MAKE THIS HEART

russell johnson; sgt at arms for the rebels, rebels.

[russjohnson-blog1]

@eodstarters​

He thought he should show up sober to the bar at first, finding the first member of the Wolves that he could and telling them that he was sober. He had changed! He was embarking on a new journey of his life without alcohol and his second step, after quitting drinking, was that he wanted to leave the Rebels and join the Wolves. He wanted to come back home.

However, he failed on two counts. The first being is he took two shots of tequila as soon as he walked into the Hole in the Wall. The second being that he couldn’t get through ‘I’m sober’ without bursting into laughter. Someday, maybe he’d be a good actor. Or he’d keep being a biker cause he was halfway decent at that.

Nonetheless, he had only appeared to see what was left of the Wolves and really screw with them. Tapping the shoulder of the first person he found, he started to ask, “Isn’t this place the best?” before promptly, accidentally to be sure, spilling his drink on them. Was it petty? Yes. Was it amusing? Also yes.

[russjohnson-blog1]

Like everyone else, Gen had been surprised when she learned that the Wolves had left town months ago. Good riddance, she told Russ while celebrating their cowardice. With the Wolves gone, and the Vixens laying as low as they could, it meant that there was only one thing in the Rebels’ way. And since they were playing nice with them, at least for now, it meant things were quiet. Too quiet for Gen who thrived on the chaos. Seeing the Brotherhood terrorize the town was not enough. But then the Wolves came back, rode into town as if nothing happened, and decided that it was a good idea to invite everyone to the reopening of the Hole in the Wall. Apparently, their time away did not make them any smarter. “So, how long before they realized this was a mistake?” Gen asked, talking about the Wolves. “Do they really think they can just come back and act as if they still owned the place?”

After staying silent for a few moments and simply playing the observing game, Russell had become bored. It was easy to see everyone was playing nice, drinks were being bought, and even he couldn’t deny: the Wolves always knew how to throw a good party. Maybe he could blame them for him being an alcoholic, another way to free himself of his sins. It was genius. He’s upset he didn’t think of it sooner. 

Thankfully, before he got too unhappy with unrest, he found Gen and found himself quickly rolling his eyes at her words. At least he’d knew she would never change. “They have the deed, Gen, of course they own the place. Don’t be so stupid.” He let a smirk take over his face, knowing she wouldn’t be too pleased with how literal he took her words. But he thought it was funny. “Don’t get all riled up, though. They’re doing what they do. Ride in like the heroes they are, here to save little Jericho from the thumb of the Brotherhood. It’s noble, really. We should commend them. Give ‘em something nice for their good deeds.”

[russjohnson-blog1]

( @eodstarters​ ) — Hole In The Wall reopening

Isla didn’t want to admit it, but she was tipsy. The new businessman in town, Javier…she couldn’t recall his last name, but she remembered him paying for all the drinks. As many of the reservations she had about showing up, and talking to people in general, she was still human and she wouldn’t turn down a free drink. 

And all the free drinks had gotten into her system, and loosened her inhibitions about being at the Hole In The Wall. She had memories of this place, when she was barely eighteen and sneaking in with her friends for one night. There was a table in the corner, that the lawyer drifted towards, to find the carved letters they had left on the surface of the wood. 

“You know…even though it was a drive away from good ol’ Tempe suburbia, this place was magical. I mean, for a house mouse like me, everything was. But you know…” The woman trailed off, eyes looking off into the distance, bleary with booze and nostalgia. 

Russell Johnson hated this bar. At one point he loved it. At one point, it’s possible he lived in it. He can’t remember anymore, but he does have a vague memory of sleeping on top of the bar a couple times. He had practically grown up in this place. And yet, walking through the doors, his stomach churned.

It wasn’t that he shouldn’t be here. Russ loved going places he shouldn’t, which was about 90% of Jericho at this point. It was more of what it meant that the bar was open again. He had gotten used to the last year, screwing around with the Brotherhood with a distinct lack of Wolves running around. It had given him a taste of freedom he had never known before. And now they were back. To be a drag. 

However, he had walked in just as some tool was buying everyone drinks, so things could be worse. He hoped the guy had poisoned all of them. Finding a corner where he could go a few moments without being recognized, he stumbled over into some woman mumbling to herself. Maybe he’ll be semi nice at first, call her crazy in a few moments. “Magical?” he asked, raised eyebrows and a look of skepticism on his face. “Did you just escape from the nut house?”

He never was a patient man. 

[russjohnson-blog1]

Aldebaran, Cigar Galaxy, Asteroid

Aldebaran: What’s something you care desperately about?

People that don’t matter.

Cigar Galaxy: How’s your flirting skills? 

If I’m not slurring, they’re halfway decent. If I am slurring… well, I probably say worse things sober. 

Asteroid: What does your dream life look like?

The most cliche answer you could think of. Somewhere of a beach, with a margarita, with not one fucking person in my sight. Completely alone. Except for my dog. Oinkers can come. He lives forever.

[sentencestarters-and-asks]

Send a space thing for questions

[russjohnson-blog1]

Planets: Life

Mercury: What’s your full name? 

Venus: What’s your first language? 

Earth: Where’s your home? 

Mars: What’s your sexuality? 

Jupiter: Do you have any siblings? 

Saturn: Any pets? 

Uranus: What’s your hobby? 

Neptune: When’s your birthday? 

Pluto: What time is it right now where you are? 

Moon: What are you currently studying/hope to study? 

Stars: Experiences

Sun: Have you ever had alcohol? 

Sirius: Have you ever failed a class? 

Rigel: Have you ever gone on a rollercoaster? 

Deneb: Have you ever been out of your home country? 

Arcturus: Have you cried out of something other than sadness? 

Betelgeuse: What’s something you can never forget about? 

Aldebaran: What’s something you care desperately about? 

Canopus: Have you ever broken a bone? 

Bellatrix: Have you ever been forced to lie/keep a secret? 

Alphard: Have you ever lost a friend?

Vega: What’s something you’ve done that you wish you hadn’t? 

Constellations: Favourites

Centaurus: Favourite holiday?

Orion: Favourite month?

Cassiopeia: Favourite book?

Delphinus: Favourite study?

Hercules: Favourite instrument?

Gemini: Favourite song?

Pegasus: Favourite place to be?

Libra: Favourite colour? 

Phoenix: Favourite thing to wear?

Aries: Favourite movie? 

Cygnus: Favourite weather? 

Hydra: Favourite sound? 

Galaxies: Love/Friends  

Milky Way: Who’s your oldest friend?  

Andromeda: Do you consider yourself social? 

Black Eye Galaxy: Do you believe in love at first sight? 

Cartwheel Galaxy: When was your first kiss? 

Cigar Galaxy: How’s your flirting skills? 

Comet Galaxy: Have you ever had to leave a relationship because someone changed too much? 

Pinwheel Galaxy: Would you date the last person you talked to? 

Sombrero Galaxy: Do you have a crush right now? 

Bode’s Galaxy: Have you ever had a secret admirer? 

Sunflower Galaxy: Would you date/make friends with someone out of pity? 

Tadpole Galaxy: Would you deny a relationship/friendship? 

Whirlpool Galaxy: Have you ever cried over a breakup? 

Other stuff: Wishes 

Comet: What’s your big dream? 

Asteroid: What does your dream life look like? 

Meteor: What’s something you wish you could tell, but can’t? 

Nebula: If you could undo one thing in your life, what would it be? 

Shooting Star: If you could bring back one thing, what would it be? 

Pulsar: What do you hope to do in the next 10 years? 

Supernova: What’s one thing you want to do before you die? 

Quasar: If you could spend the rest of your life with only one person, who would it be? 

Wormhole: What’s something you wish would happen, but know won’t? 

Black Hole: What’s the last thing you want to see? 

[russjohnson-blog1]

CHAPTER THREE.

[russjohnson-blog1]

Alison took a moment, pondering over what exactly to say next. This pondering didn’t last very long, as she decided to drop the topic entirely. She had learned over the span of a number of years, there was no point in disagreeing with these things. It not only saved potential arguments, as well as migraines. “I believe a lot of things. Like, how you’re an idiot. But… I might be biased on that end,” the blonde lets out casually, shrugging her shoulders and leaning to rest her elbows upon the table. “I don’t know about any of that though, Russ,” she chirps, deciding to ignore her earlier thoughts of dismissing that topic. “I seem more babies than bikers. Battle of the Babies… that kind of sounds like a Rugrats thing.” 

If everyone in this town didn’t already think he was an idiot, Russell Johnson would be uniquely surprised. Luckily for him, chances were everyone already thought that, family members included. They would never be rid of him, however, as much as they probably wanted to be. He wasn’t sure on that fact anymore, if he would admit to it. He had always thought Carlie would give up on him eventually and obviously, she disproved him of that. Who knew with his big sister, too? “You say the sweetest things,” he snorted at her response, his own voicing dancing between sarcasm and seriousness because really, she wasn’t wrong. “Battle of the Baby Bikers? We should really get a camera crew in here. We’d make millions and there’s nothing more babies love than millions. Wait, I meant bikers-- well, I can’t really ask any baby if they love money, so maybe they do too.”

[russjohnson-blog1]

“I’ll keep this short, guess you could say I’m not much of a late night conversationalist — so if it’s a distraction you’re after it’s probably best you look elsewhere.” The male remarked, whiskey in hand as his gaze drifted to meet that of another whom had slid into the empty booth opposite him. Brow cocked in their direction, a small part of the eldest Johnson was almost amused at the balls of the other. “Unless you have something to say..” He goaded, tone one of intrigue.

“Yeah, you suck at talking,” Russell agreed, his own drinking in his matching hand though his held scotch instead of whiskey. He hadn’t spoken to his brother in a good minute, having become quite talented in avoiding the man. But every conversation they had usually turned to shit. Maybe he was just in the mood for it today. “Something to say?” he asked, leaning back, trying to look as innocent as he could. “Your hair looks nice today.”

[russjohnson-blog1]

“I can’t believe what happened–can you believe…?” Alison trails off, motioning on with her hands in hopes that the person before her would understand. Jericho had always been quite the explosive town, while there had been a period of time that things were much more calm, the chaos came back as if it had never left. Part of this saddened Alison; for the town that she grew up in, the people around her of whom she adored to no end. For whatever reason, no one could seem to escape, even if they tried. “I just hope things don’t escalate. The last thing we need here is the ‘battle of the best bikers’.”

Finding a seat next to his sister, Russ seemed more relaxed than anyone else in the town they lived. He was a little annoyed about the details of the explosion, but all in all, what needed to get done did. Not that he could tell Alison that. He could still make fun of her, though. “Can you really not believe?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “Everyday is a battle of the bikers. Which, y’know, the Rebels are the best.” He nodded along with his own words, looking down at his own leather vest that was adorned on his chest. “But I am biased.”

[russjohnson-blog1]

Recently, Carlie realized that she was the happiest she had been in a long time, despite all of the horror going on around them. While Russ continued to push others away, he let her in. It was what she had always wanted and never thought she would get, if she ever really thought about it at all. Carlie believed that people had the ability to change. she believed in second and third chances. She believed that nearly everyone was redeemable, no matter what they had done, no matter what they thought of themselves. All she wanted was for him to realize that he wasn’t the monster that he thought himself to be, the monster that he tried to convince other people he was. He wasn’t his father, he wasn’t his brother, he was his own person. With all of the wonderful things that entailed. She believed all of that, yes. But how did you tell someone that despite everything they thought, you thought they were perfect?

His hand holding hers felt different than it had ever felt before. It wasn’t the hand that she held when she was crossing the street to the bus stop for school. It wasn’t the hand that she reached for when she fell off her bike for help in getting back up. It wasn’t the hand that gave her an encouraging squeeze before a school concert or a graduation or the first day of a new job. It wasn’t the hand she held at too many funerals. It wasn’t the hand covered in blood from a gaping leg wound that just needed something to hold onto. It wasn’t, but it was.

She shut up. She let him lead her out to his bike and she wondered what he possibly could have hidden out there; it wasn’t like he had a lot of cargo space. “I’m sure it’s not stupid-” she started, but she stopped when she saw what he held.

Time stood still. Her vision shifted, the roses in the foreground, his face blurred in background. And then he came into focus and it was like she was seeing him for the first time. The words were familiar - he always spoke in a self-deprecating way that she always wished he would grow out of - but there was a vulnerability in his eyes…in the way his feet were planted on the ground, in the way his arm extended to present the flowers to her. It was as if everything she had always seen inside of him, everything she had always known he was and could be, was finally peeking through.

In twenty-seven years, Carlie Knight had never once found herself speechless.

She wanted to laugh. And cry. And laugh again. Instead she found herself reaching for the bouquet. She didn’t take it from him. She wrapped her hand around his and decided not to overthink. Her toes pressed against the ground and before she knew it, her lips were on his.

Finally, the thought of the thorns occurred to his brain as they stabbed his fingers. Better him than Carlie, whose hand had returned to his all over again, and he wondered when he became so aware of her touch. She had patched him up numerous times, but that wasn’t the same, of course it wasn’t the same. She had done that because she cared about him and he knew that, taken advantage of it. He had probably taken advantage of Carlie’s care for him more than he should’ve, but his negative traits were his best friends. None of those, however, could be found at the moment. He was all positive-- all light, all hope, all-- oh. 

And then she was kissing him. He was kissing Carlie. The same girl he had helped across the street, the same girl who he had taken on her first bike ride ( which had pissed off her father, which had only made him laugh ), the same girl who never believed any of the shit that spewed from his lips. If he had known a couple roses would’ve gotten him in this position, he would’ve handed them over years ago. 

That wasn’t true, though, because even as his fingers loosened around the flowers, dropping them on the road, Russ wished he could take it all back. He should’ve gotten her the golf club. Carlie deserved better. Much better. Anything better than him. But now with his hand free, he rose his arm to place his hand on the side of her neck, bringing her closer closer closer. He shouldn’t be kissing her, but oh, how he kissed her.

She tasted like sweetness and alcohol and he couldn’t help but grin into her lips because how fitting was that? Russell thought back to when he was young, when he thought about the woman he eventually would fall in love with, just as his parents had fallen in love. He had always imagined it’d be someone like Carlie. Someone strong, someone loyal, something who would know when to take his bullshit seriously and when not to ( although, admittedly, in more child-like wordings ). He knew it’d be tied to someone in the Desert Wolves, even if he could’ve never imagined he would wear another MC’s patch. Someone like Carlie. Never believed it would be Carlie. 

And yet, here he was, a Rebel by name, a Wolf by blood, an idiot of his own making, already in love with the woman whose birthday it was. 

As he went to deepened the kiss, he heard a small tick. It came from the background, it was a sound he recognized, but he couldn’t place it because his mind was more than distracted. Timing answered it for him-- he opened his eyes just as the explosion set off and the only thought that ran through his mind was I thought I had more time. Because of course he knew what had happened. Had helped plan it. But something had either gone wrong or someone had screwed him off.

He could take a guess.

With as much swiftness as he could manage, he ended the kiss that should’ve gone on forever if the world was just, and spun Carlie away from the bikes which were full of fires and shielded her with his body to the best of his ability. He had parked far away enough so his own wouldn’t be damaged, but a few scraps still managed to find their way over to them and he vaguely thinks a piece of metal flew into his shoulder. Honestly, at this point he didn’t feel much.

“You okay?” he asked, more calm than his tone should be, his eyes searching Carlie. He looked over her for injuries and as he got to the bottom of her feet, he noticed the roses were suddenly burning away. What the fuck was symbolism? 

[russjohnson-blog1]

@romcnramirez

It was more than obvious he hadn’t cared where the golf club he had brought with him had swung. It certainly at wasn’t any balls-- considering there was none, and if there were, they were too low for him to reach. That had been until the object had almost come in contact with his best friend’s face ( kind of best friend. not really best friend. old best friend. ). “Shit,” he spun quickly, dodging Roman’s face and hitting another person’s nose. Russ took a side step behind the police officer’s back before the victim could find the guilty. “You gotten taller? You’re a great shield, if no one has ever told you that before.”

[archivedblogposts]

[carlieknight]

@russjohnson

[russjohnson-blog1]

He was smiling more than usual lately. Every time she saw him, actually. Was that her doing? Carlie unconsciously shook her head to clear that thought from her mind. He’d always had a nice smile, though, when he chose to show it.

A passerby walked straight into the head of the club and she did her best to stifle a laugh. “Even when I turned six and our dads somehow got that sparkly yellow motorcycle cake.” That atrocious cake had been the highlight of her life for many years to come. He was right, though - Carlie didn’t have a single birthday memory that didn’t include him. She had very few childhood memories period that didn’t include him. 

I prefer having you to myself. If he hadn’t already had her full attention, he would have gotten it with that. A present was enough to grab her interest (she was nothing if not a child at heart) but when Russ said things like that, she paid attention. Not that she didn’t pay attention to everything he said anyway. “Is it the golf club? Because I think I’ll pass on that,” she joked. It was loud and it was crowded and Carlie suddenly really needed to not be in the middle of all of it. “Let’s go outside then. Is that appropriate present-giving territory?” Before waiting for an answer, Carlie slipped off the barstool and cocked her head toward the back door.

In the past year, his world has changed. It wasn’t as much as the Desert Wolves from the past fighting with the Rebels of the present. His heart and mind wasn’t torn on those things anymore. The Wolves, his family, the names and bonds they had once shared-- they weren’t there anymore. He’s left them behind. He can be at peace with that. Russell had done enough to push himself away and no one would ever mistake him for anything but the tipsy monster he was.

No one, anyone, everyone; but Carlie.

It was her versus his club. He had tried the stay away game, the only go to her apartment if he got stabbed game. It was a fair game. And then she started brightening his day, everyday, and he started bringing her food on the way, at least twice a week, and he’d often bring his dog with him. He made her laugh and they made a bubble and they didn’t make conversation on anything that went on in Jericho besides what her apartment held. He’d become softer, with her, only her. And then the image of her swaying him outside, away from everyone else about killed him right then and there. If only she meant for them to go in the back alleyway and do dirty things he could barely imagine her doing. He could, though. He very much could. 

“No,” he answered, a low voice and his regular smirk gracing his face, “it’s not a golf club.” Russell figured: screw it. His gift was kind of already a risk, a little romantic, and so he grabbed her hand again, this time grasping her fingers and leading her outside, thinking about having her against the outside walls, before instead leading her over to his bike where it was parked in the shadows, with only a street light from the short distance lighting it. “It’s-- I couldn’t think of what to get you. So it’s probably stupid and.. y’know, whatever.” He brought out a bouquet of roses: a solid dozen, a perfect red, still with the plastic wrapped around them. He hadn’t cut the stems or worried about the thorns and hadn’t even thought about it. Russ still held them out to Carlie, embarrassed, and most likely blushing if anyone could see. “They’ll die, but. I thought you’d like them.”

[russjohnson-blog1]

Did she expect him to be there? Kind of. But Carlie had learned a long time ago that expecting Russell Johnson to do anything was pretty stupid. So she’d turned the dial down from expecting to hopeful, hopeful that he wouldn’t go rogue on her birthday. He could take one day off of shenanigans, right?

It only made sense that he would make a ridiculous entrance. Carlie spotted him the moment he walked through the door, golf club and all, disgruntled shouts from other patrons trailing behind him. “Yeah, you’d have to find your own first,” she teased with a sugary sweet smile. She was suddenly happier, if that was possible, and it wasn’t just the alcohol catching up with her. “I’m not little,” was shot back without missing a beat. “But thank you. For coming. And for promising not to intentionally hit anyone with that thing.” Carlie’s eyes went from his face to the golf club and back. “Promise.”

It killed him, absolutely killed him, how bright she was. She fuckin’ shone. It was insane. He felt like shielding his eyes away from her, just for a moment, to see how dark the rest of the world was in comparison. He let his own expression share the emotion of brightness she had, amused at her words and softened at the same time. “I had a moral compass once. It broke.”

Broke like he did, broke like she would be if he didn’t return back to his hiding. Russell was a coward if he was nothing else. “I, uh, yeah,” he scratched the back of his head and nodded, somehow managing to tune out another person that had taken a hit from his golf club on accident. It wasn’t on purpose if he wasn’t paying attention, right? “Of course I came. I see you every year on your birthday. Haven’t missed a one.” Even when they were young and he didn’t want to go, selfish kid he was. Hadn’t changed a ton into adulthood. “I got you a present, but I didn’t want to give it to you in front of all these people. I prefer having you to myself. So until that... no, I can’t promise that. These people are really loud.” 

[russjohnson-blog1]

Turning twenty-seven was not a big deal. Turning twenty-seven was pretty much the opposite of a big deal. And it wasn’t even an even number or a multiple of five. Still, there was nothing Carlie loved more than a celebration, so of course she had not resisted when Jo said that she was planning her birthday party. Carlie smiled as she looked around the bar of happy, on-their-wait-to-being-drunk people and shoved her own bar golf card into her pocket. Caught in the act, she pointed her finger right at the other person’s face. “It’s my party and I’ll ignore the rules if I want to!”

No one should ask him where he found the golf club. Russ, honestly, was surprised he hadn’t owned one until now. They were great weapons. He hadn’t used it as one yet, but the night was still young. As well as the night, the birthday girl was still just as young despite gaining another year under her belt. He had come for her and only her. Not that he didn’t enjoy getting drunk because everyone in Jericho knew he was fond of that activity. However, he had taken to going under the radar the last year. Burning down the Pit hadn’t been his worry, but rather the sister of the Brotherhood president who still lived and who could give him up at any time. It was for the reason he shouldn’t have shown up to begin with, but Carlie is and always will be a soft spot to him.

All the more reason to not show.

And yet he walked in with the golf club slung over his shoulder, taking no care of whether it hit other patrons in the bar or not. He was a tall guy, they should learn to duck. It didn’t take long to find the one he was looking for, already shouting about cheating -- and smelling about four holes in. “I’m not here to be your moral compass,” he took the finger pointing in his face with his own hand and brought it down to her side, only lingering for two seconds too long before letting go. “Happy birthday, little Knight.”

[russjohnson-blog1]

queen of the meadow; ever been in love?

“Not in the way that... like-- yes but no. There’s loving someone and then there’s the kind of thing my parents had. It was, that was something crazy. That was trust. No one will ever trust me, no one should ever trust me. The kind of trust it takes to be in love with someone is something I shouldn’t get and no one deserves to have that put on them.

I’ve fallen for bodies, I’ve fallen for liquor. I can’t fall for like.. perky brunettes or whoever. They will always be better than that. I’m in love with my club, my bike. 

And the bike vibrates.”

[russjohnson-blog1]

💌 - what’s your biggest regret?

“Sometimes it’s my dad not knowing I joined the Rebels, left his club behind. Sometimes it’s knowing my mom has to see, has to know what I do. Sometimes it’s letting the Wolves get shot and injured and broken, and the Vixens, too. Sometimes it’s letting people close to me that are just gonna get hurt after awhile.

Sometimes, I have no regrets at all and would do everything again without even thinking about it.”