#good morrow police

[itsracc]

The pathfinder campaign I'm a player in is taking a while to restart, I'm boutta start acting like my character irl soon. The withdrawals are hitting harder and harder as the days pass by.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

That One Friend…

Twisted Wonderland: Trey Clover, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Kalim Al Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Idia Shroud, Lilia Vanrouge, 

JJK: Suguru Geto, Megumi Fushigiro, Mei Mei

Demon Slayer: Douma, Shinobu Kocho, Giyuu Tomioka, Tanjiro Kamado

Obey Me: Satan, Asmodeus, Simeon, Solomon, Barbatos

Hunter X Hunter: Hisoka Morrow, Chrollo Lucilfer, Shalnark, Shaiapouf, 

OCs: Rhiana(Witch), Wille (Elite Serial Killer), Fantasy Villain

There’s always That One Friend who you pass by in the market across the street or at the cafe you frequent before work. This one friend is always sweet–a kind soul you can trust for some intelligent conversation or to sit in silence with. 

Whether you’re married with kids or dating your long-term partner something in you tends to wander. Your mind drifts to That One Friend who you know would have picked up on your silence. They would have reached over the table to hold your hand as they demanded you tell them what was wrong–letting their worried eyes never leave yours as they searched the troubled depths of your own. 

There’s just something about That One Friend who has you daydreaming about what it’d be like to be with them instead. A dark sliver of you that entertains the idea of straying from where you're trapped but you’ll shoot that down…eventually. While you’re certain you love That One Friend you do love your significant other even if they stopped saying ‘I love you.’ It would be wrong to betray them for That One Friend—who can verbally assure you that they care. Who makes an effort to tell you how much they care about you daily. Besides it’d be wrong to base a betrayal on only a side of That One Friend. 

For all you know, they could be just being a good friend–showing a side of themself that you need. Besides they have their business or another partner or their long distance relationship so even if you were brave enough to confess your little crush to that dear One Friend it would never work out. 

So when it’s finally decided that you’ll shut down these invasive feelings put more time in improving your current relationship. You’ll limit yourself from That One Friend if only to get it into your brain that they’re just not an option. Diving into work, trying with your partner, spending more time with your kids, or just visiting a different place for lunch. You’ll make an excuse when That One Friend starts catching on and hope that they don’t take offense. Finding a steady routine that no longer relies on That One Friend. 

But that all goes to shambles when something terrible happens to your significant other. A car crash, leaking gas pipe, or a mysterious drive-by shooting—they’re gone. Your world–as dysfunctional as it already was—comes crashing down. Since you can’t fall because of your kids or because you worry you’ll never begin to bring yourself up again you have no choice but to rely on That One Friend. 

That One Friend who is at your apartment the second they’ve learned what’s happened. That One Friend who comes along with you to the police station when you promise that there’s foul play. That One Friend who cooks and cleans when you just don’t feel like moving. That One Friend who will even invite you, your kids, or your pets into their home so they can look after you because they are just so worried.

That One Friend who licks their lips as they watch you curl into their bed wearing the hoodie they let you borrow. That One Friend who invites your kids to call them something closer than their first name. That One Friend who reminds you to eat while you obsess over your significant other’s case. That One Friend who encourages you to cuddle with them since you’ve been having so much trouble sleeping. 

That One Friend who has been waiting for the perfect opportunity to get them back on your market. That One Friend who is like a predator lying in wait as it becomes years before you start wanting to date again. That One Friend who will make sure they’re narrowly injured on a train accident so that their emergency contact–you comes running and kisses their forehead because you were so scared. That One Friend who knows it’ll be a matter of time before you accept or propose yourself. 

That One Friend who can’t help but relish in the way you’re attention and love belong to them. 

And That One Friend will do anything to make that happen.

[lightfeltmemories]

18+, minors, blank, and ageless blogs dni, fem black reader in mind. my first post in this format please don't kill me if someone feels ooc.

he knew you were a baddie before your relationship with him, so, he doesn't police you on what you wear, in fact, he loves your outfits, and if anything, buys (or steals) anything you desire to keep you high maintenance, when walking down the street, he loves the thought of other men feeling envious because he managed to pull such a gem, your hand in his, you both walk down the street, the way your ass jiggles with every step in your short shorts, the way your tits bounce in the tight fitting tank top, the way your makeup is always flawless and glowing in the sunlight, the way your hair and nails are always done, the way you always smell good as fuck, he loves every aspect of you, and knew exactly what he was getting into when he pursued you, because at the end of the day, he's the one thrusting his fat cock deep inside you every night, his name is the one escaping your lips as he pounds into you, moaning and screaming for more, he's the one you chose to lay next to after it's all said and done.

jjk: satoru gojo, choso, kento nanami, toji fushiguro, shiu kong, naruto: naruto uzumaki, kisame hoshigaki, hidan, kakashi hatake, might guy, deidara hashirama senju, jiraya demon slayer: kyojuro rengoku, tengen uzui, douma, giyu tomioka, iguro obanai hunter x hunter: leorio paladiknight, uvogin, nobunaga hazama, shalnark ryusei, phinks magub, hisoka morrow, feitan portor one piece: monkey d. luffy, rorona zoro, vinsmoke sanji, usopp, brook, portgas d. ace, eustass kid, donquixote doflamingo,

anyone i didn't add, this can also apply if you want it to but these were the characters that came to mind for me :)

[tumbleweed-writes]

Death and the Lady: Chibs Telford X Reader. Chapter Twelve

TAG LIST: @youngadult9016  @mrsfilipchibstelford @mamawiggers1980 @ravennaortiz @liveinsteadofdreaming @redwoodmaya

PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE

18+ Only. Crude sexual language.

======

Chapter Twelve: Lamb

The door to the deputy sheriff’s office in Charming’s local P.D., was yanked open so hard that it could almost be considered a miracle it did not fracture the drywall against the doorknob as it slammed against the wall.

Deputy David Hale stared down at Agent June Stahl, his eyes dark and narrow the words flying from his lips. “You had my guys pull records on Tara Knowles and Y/N Y/L/N?”

Stahl gazed up at the infuriated deputy, her voice calm and cool showing no regard for his anger, she not even caring enough to address the question. “Did you enjoy your lunch break?”

Hale glared down at the ATF agent spotting the files spread out across the desk, his stomach turning at the clear sight of old mugshots featuring both Tara and Y/N along with police reports.

He didn’t understand what angle Stahl was working here. If she was interested in ol ladies then surely Gemma Teller Morrow would be a better choice. 

Tara and Y/N weren’t exactly on the same level as the Queen of SAMCRO. What could they possibly provide Stahl to build a RICO case against SAMCRO?

Both Tara and Y/N having questionable taste in romantic partners didn’t exactly mean they were involved in gun running. 

Deputy Hale slammed the door shut behind him not wanting any nearby ears to pick up on the conversation he was about to have with Stahl. He knew he’d already attracted a few gazes from both ATF agents and his fellow department coworkers by bursting in here clearly pissed off. 

He spoke his voice harsh, as he glared down at her, the agent looking all too comfortable sitting at his desk. “They have nothing to do with this investigation.”

“Oh, David. How willfully naive. They have so much to do with this investigation. You aren’t seeing the possibility behind these two.” Stahl remarked an amused smirk crossing her lips at how worked up the good deputy seemed to be over the mention of these two women.

It seemed that she had struck a nerve in him, and she was unable to avoid the temptation to strike again.

Hale let out a scoff at the comment addressing his first concern. “Tara Knowles left Charming and SAMCRO behind. She might have had a wild past, but she’s cleaned up her act. She went out to Chicago and got a medical degree. She’s not opening beers for outlaws anymore.”

“Oh, we both know that’s not entirely true. All these photos Agent Kohn provided seem to indicate that Dr. Knowles is starting to get a little close and personal with one very patched in Jackson Teller. Those two have a history judging by these police reports. Arrests in the nineties for public intoxication, disorderly conduct, and possession of stolen property, all in the company of one Jackson Teller.”

“They dated back when we were teenagers. We all did stupid things as teens. She left town at nineteen and left Teller and the MC behind. She’s been gone for over a decade now. She only came back because her dad died and she got a job opportunity out here.” Hale snapped Agent Stahl rolling her eyes at the comment.

“She was out in Chicago, David. She was top of the class from the looks of it. Brilliant young woman with the accolades to back it up, just how many job opportunities must those brains and accomplishments have brought in for her? With her background she could take a job anywhere in the country at any hospital of her choice. Why’d she pick Charming? I can’t imagine it's just homesickness that led her back here. She could have stayed out in Chicago and made a hell of a lot more money than Saint Thomas is probably offering her. Why pick Saint Thomas and Charming? I think we both are well aware of Agent Kohn’s real reason for coming out to Charming. Agent Kohn is one sick puppy and I can’t imagine Tara was too keen on sticking around up in Chicago with him hanging around. Tara’s ex boyfriend becomes her stalker and she comes back to a town where her first love has a dangerous reputation. You don’t think that’s a little convenient? '' Stahl pointed out Hale gritting his jaw unwilling to admit that the answer to just why she’d come back home lay in Jax Teller.

He spoke, still refusing to admit that Tara could possibly have any possible information to build a RICO case. “I’m sure Jackson Teller’s boy being premature has made Tara and he take some walks down memory lane, but Tara is no ol lady. She’s not getting any pillow talk about gun running from anyone in SAMCRO. Agent Kohn has been taken care of. He’s heading back to Chicago to answer to his superiors. Tara Knowles isn’t looking to seek protection from Teller.”

Stahl raised a brow at the comments, shrugging her shoulders as she spoke. “That may be the case, but you do have to be a little curious about the similarities between Dr. Knowles and Miss. Y/L/N. Both young women with troubled criminally prone backgrounds who left town only to come back after losing their fathers. Both women have been seen in the company of at least one patched in member of SAMCRO. In fact, both women share some similarities in their rap sheets. Looks like they have both been arrested in the company of one Jackson Teller. I do have to wonder if Dr. Knowles knows that Jax found a new Bonnie to his Clyde in her absence.”

Hale let out a huff at this, his voice holding an edge of irritation as he glared down at Stahl. “Y/N had some difficult years in her late teens and early twenties. Jackson and she shared a bond given her brother’s accident.”

“Yes, Daniel Y/L/N. It’s a shame what happened to him. Miss. Y/L/N dutifully pays those institutionalization bills to keep him cared for.  Looks like he wasn’t on the best path though. He ran around with Harry Opie Winston and Jackson Teller from what I’m gathering from Daniel’s police record. Looks like his first few arrests weren’t anything too grand, arrests in his late teens for possession of marijuana…not enough to get him more than a fine…some drunk and disorderlies around the same time. He was arrested with both Winston and Teller for a drunken brawl out at the Hairy Dog back when he was twenty one. The arresting officer commented that Mr. Y/L/N seemed elated by the violence. Judging by the black eye and the grin on his face in this mugshot, he was in his element. Strange how he never prospected for the MC. Looks like he was as thick as thieves with Teller and Winston before the accident.”

“His father kept him on a tight leash. After that arrest at twenty one he gave him an ultimatum, some tough love to get him on the right path. From my understanding he told him to get his shit together and enroll in community college or lose access to Y/N. His father didn’t want him leading her down that path. Daniel loved his little sister dearly. She worshiped Daniel and their father knew she’d follow him anywhere. His accident was heartbreaking for her. He may as well have died with as hard as she took it. He was more than a brother to her. I'm sure she viewed Daniel as being her best friend.” Hale explained shifting in place his stomach turning at the mention of a young man he’d once considered a friend before Daniel started going down a bad path with Opie and Jax.

“Looks like the ultimatum was in vain. Daniel Y/L/N has his motorcycle accident and that same year Y/N gets arrested in the company of Jackson Teller. She got busted for public intoxication. Scandalous considering she was all of eighteen and Mr. Teller was about twenty three, a little too old to be sniffing around her, but we both know the MC isn't filled morally upstanding guys. Her being barely out of being considered jailbait must have been thrilling for the boys at SAMCRO.” Stahl provided proudly displaying the mugshot.

Hale gazed down at the mugshot of an eighteen year old Y/N, her face still holding baby fat, her hair a faded pink that had gone a peachy tone, a dazed look in her eyes; she was clearly under the influence. He could spot chipped black nail polish on her fingers and a silver stud in her left nostril. The tank top she wore was far too low cut revealing the red lace of a bra. The slight smirk on her red painted lips showed that she felt little shame for her very first arrest.

Stahl spoke again providing more information about Y/N’s arrest record. “She continued to become a frequent flier in your jail cells. Looks like she got picked up a few more times at eighteen and nineteen, drunk and disorderly, driving under the influence, driving under the influence on a suspended license, possession of the tiniest amount of pot which wasn't enough to be an issue if she wasn’t clearly drunk, an arrest for shoplifting a pack of cigarettes and a candy bar where the arresting officer noted she seemed intoxicated. You picked her up more than once for some of these arrests…that must have been awkward for you both. Looks like she got a few slaps on the wrist, some fines, and some court ordered community service along with a few alcohol education courses. Didn’t seem to faze her though as the arrests continued…gotta love a small town police department. Most of this crap would have landed her doing some real time anywhere but Charming.”

“Sheriff Unser respected her father…everyone respected her father for the good he did for the community; caring for the deceased. He was a beloved figure around Charming. People saw him as personable and caring for the bereaved and diligent about caring for the dead. He had a reputation for being charitable to those who couldn’t always afford to bury their dead…made him even more adored around town. People felt sorry for him after Daniel’s accident…people around town felt awful for the man losing his son and having a daughter who wasn’t coping well. Lloyd Y/L/N advocated for his daughter to stay out of the system…Unser felt bad given what happened with Daniel, didn’t want Lloyd to lose another kid…The judge who ordered the community service and alcohol awareness courses felt the same way given Unser’s appeals to give Y/N opportunities to get her life on the right track. I don’t know how he kept her out of any real jail time or any harsher punishments…Unser’s a slick son of a bitch. I’m sure some money passed between Lloyd Y/L/N’s palm and the judge’s at least once. Lloyd Y/L/N was morally upstanding, but when it came to his little girl…he was willing and desperate enough to break his morals…especially given the situation with his son. He couldn't bear to lose Y/N too.” Hale provided, gritting his jaw at the thought of Unser.

Stahl shook her head. “Guess it’s good to be friends with Unser. Looks like Unser’s appeals kept her out of too much trouble, but she didn’t get her life on the right track. There’s a few more arrests here at nineteen. This one is interesting; an arrest in the company of one Alexander Tig Trager and one Robert Bobby Elvis Munson at a truck stop right on the edge of Charming city limits. Looks like she was about to turn nineteen and all three were clearly very under the influence. Trager was driving erratically and the officer noted that Y/N was so intoxicated that she fell out of the passengers door when the officer opened it. Local PD couldn’t prove that either man had provided the alcohol for Miss. Y/L/N, so Trager and Munson didn’t get more than a slap on the wrist for being in the company of an intoxicated minor. You do have to admit it's troubling a girl her age was hanging out with two men that age. Rumors around town are that Miss. Y/L/N was a regular at SAMCRO’s clubhouse. Looks like she was a…croweater? Isn’t that the term the Sons use for the club whores?”

The comment made Hale see red, the man speaking his voice harsh. “She kept bad company back then, but she was not playing the croweater game. She was not spreading her legs for every single guy in a kutte.” 

Stahl smirked at the comment, quickly addressing it. “Sounds like I struck a nerve there, David. You’re getting a little defensive about Miss. Y/L/N’s promiscuous past? One might think you’re sweet on her.”

She smirked all the more as she spotted the way Hale tensed all the more at the comment. She spotted a flash of indignation in the man’s eyes at the implication that Y/N was a club tart. “You arrested her a few times back then, David? That must have been frustrating for you in more ways than one. I bet you wanted to place her in handcuffs in much different circumstances.”

Hale scoffed at this comment shaking his head, his voice tense he refusing to address the innuendo about handcuffs and Y/N the thought making him a little hot under the collar. “I was close with her brother when we were kids. Having to arrest Y/N was not something I found enjoyable.”

Stahl sighed, backing off the teasing as she pulled out another mugshot. “Looks like she was around nineteen and twenty when things got a little disturbing for Miss Y/L/N. Her partner in crime shifted from Jackson and a few members of SAMCRO and to one Nathaniel Gunner Papadopoulos. Nathaniel or Gunner as he goes by is a Son. Looks like he was a nomad at the time, but nowadays he’s fully patched into the Tacoma charter of the Sons. The first arrests with him follow the same path; public intoxication and drunk and disorderly…then things get dark. There were a few calls out to bars around town where the two had some verbal altercations, there were no arrests for these as they vacated the premises and that satisfied the bar owners. Then there was an arrest outside a gas station for being disorderly in public…Y/N is about nineteen here and Gunner is about twenty six…looks like they got into a verbal altercation once again and Mr. Papadopoulos struck Miss. Y/L/N…he was arrested. She was taken in after she tried to argue with the arresting officer and interfere with the arrest of Mr. Papadopoulos. It seems she was frustrated that he was being arrested as she did not want to press charges for the physical assault on her. That was the first arrest for an altercation between the pair where things got physical. Looks like one of the final arrests we have of the pair involved an altercation the two had outside of a diner when Miss. Y/L/N was twenty. You were one of the responding officers from what I see”.

Hale shifted in place, his jaw clenching so tight he looked as though he might crack a tooth. He cringed as Stahl continued. “Chances are you must remember the arrest, but I can refresh your memory. From the police record it looks as though Mr. Popadopoulos and Miss. Y/L/N were under the influence and having a lovers spat in the parking lot of the diner, over the waitress getting a little too friendly with Mr. Papadopoulos, when Papadopoulos struck Miss. Y/L/N. She reacted by hitting him back and it devolved into a full on physical altercation. Looks like she got him pretty good judging by the scratch marks across his face and the bruises he’s sporting. He seems to have gotten her better though given the split lip. The arresting officer who you were with noted past bruises on Miss. Y/L/N and indicated suspicion of domestic violence, but Miss. Y/L/N seemed to brush questions about it off as evidence of rough sexual encounters between Mr. Papadopoulos and her. You noted in your notes on the arrest that you tried to urge Miss. Y/L/N to press charges against Mr. Papadopoulos as her reaction could be written off as self defense..but she was not interested. The two spent the night in jail and one of the Sons, looks like one of Gunner's fellow nomads that was visiting the mother charter, bailed Gunner out the next morning…Gunner then bailed Miss. Y/L/N out…how romantic. The mugshots are not pretty”

Hale let out a heavy breath, his body filled with tension as he gazed down at the mugshot in question. Y/N looked far less proud of herself in this photo. Her right eye was swollen, the hint of a black eye starting to develop. Her lip was split courtesy of one of Gunner’s silver chunky biker rings. She was dressed in another tight tank top and it did little to hide the bruises across her skin, some markings old and some quite recent. Her eyes held an almost empty sense to them as though she was running on autopilot most of the time but disconnected from her surroundings. Her body seemed too thin and it felt as though it was from more than aging. He suspected drug use though he could not place the drug in question without testing her. Her hair had faded back to its natural tone and the nose piercing was gone. She was scowling at the camera clearly filled with rage.

Hale spoke the words leaving him before he could stop them  “I tried to get her to press charges against the bastard. I tried to convince her that he was taking her down a bad path. He had her under some kind of spell or something I don’t know…She left town a few months after that last arrest. Rumors around town said that she was seen using a phone booth near main street looking worse for wear. Her father picked her up and got her out of town.”

Hale took a deep breath, his words harsh he tearing his eyes from the mugshot. “Y/N’s past has no bearing on anything. She has straightened herself out. She’s taken over her father’s business and has stayed on the straightened arrow. She’s grown up.”

“Maybe so…those empty graves that were found back in the cemetery months ago do seem fishy though…given the bodies that disappeared from the Sons warehouse right around the time those bodies from the empty graves were found out in Lodi. Those empty graves were filled by Miss. Y/L/N’s funeral home. Lodi cops seem to have lost steam for the case…and they were satisfied with Miss. Y/L/N’s statements about the incident. Does seem interesting that she comes back to town and just so happens to get involved with a member of SAMCRO right around the time that this whole grave robbing and disappearing bodies situation happens. How convenient for SAMCRO.”

Hale cleared his throat knowing he had his own suspicions about Y/N’s involvement, but he could admit he was choosing to live in denial over the reality of the situation.

He would be lying if he tried to claim he didn’t think of Y/N and didn’t feel some sense of fondness for her.

In some way he still remembered her as the talkative little girl who followed her brother and he around when they were kids.

He thought of her as the lonely child who according to his younger sister never could fit in with their peers.

He'd always felt a sense of care for Y/N none the less. He could remember her being vibrant and brave. She was at times a little too fierce and so unapologetic that it bordered on being rude. He could remember finding the quality somewhat admirable though; her willingness to be so brazen.

As she’d grown she’d seemed determined to follow her brother’s path in the company she kept. Hale had been displeased by her rebellion. He had hoped that her brother's accident would scare her straight but it seemed to push her into a life of chaos. She'd clung to the men who her brother had once run amuck with.

Jackson Teller had seemed willing to take Y/N under his wing and lead her to destruction.

Hale would be lying if he tried to claim he didn’t feel slightly disturbed as he stood aside and watched Y/N grow into an attractive young woman who seemed to be all too comfortable around the local outlaw MC. He’d maybe gone out of his way back then to try to coax her into understanding that she was down a bad path. He'd been a rookie cop back then and had been all too aware of Y/N's bad behavior. He'd tried to reason with her using his past friendship with her brother to coax her into getting on the right path. When Gunner had gotten involved with her that coaxing had increased but Y/N had practically spit in Hale’s face at his attempts to rescue her from her situation.

He’d been grateful when she'd left town. He'd hoped that she was getting her head on straight. When she came back to town Hale had hopes that she’d grown up in her time away. He’d been relieved when it seemed she’d turned over a new leaf.

Hale could admit that he'd been hopeful that she was done with bad boys in kuttes.

He could also admit that he'd felt a sense of attraction for the young woman who had returned to run her father's funeral home. She seemed a far cry from the angry young woman who used to run around with the MC.

He had been stunned to realize that he no longer viewed her as his old childhood friend's rebellious baby sister. She had grown into an elegant young woman who was dedicated to a respectful career.

He had hopes that perhaps her taste in men had matured as well along with the more sophisticated appearance she'd adopted.

He’d maybe even tried to ask her to dinner or coffee once or twice but she’d rejected the offers. He’d told himself not to take offense to her rejection. He'd decided that perhaps Y/N was going through a difficult time, losing her father and being back in a town she probably was not thrilled to be in.

He had told himself to bide his time and be patient. He had hopes that perhaps she would settle into town and then maybe be more inclined to give him at least one date.

He had hopes that perhaps he could shoot his shot with her again, but had his hopes dashed when she clearly became involved with SAMCRO once again. 

When he’d realized she’d chosen Filip Chibs Telford of all men, Hale had been disgusted. The older Scotsman seemed so wrong for her, and she seemed blind to this fact.

It was kind of insulting realizing she'd turned Hale down and chosen Chibs Telford. Though, Hale had a feeling he'd be insulted if she'd chosen any Son after rejecting him more than once.

It was as though Stahl could read his mind because she spoke all too giddy to pull out another file from the stack. “It seems Miss. Y/L/N still favors a bad boy in a kutte and she still likes her men older. Filip Chibs Telford is an interesting man. He has past rumored ties to the True IRA. He’s been arrested a few times in Belfast, but nothing could ever stick. His wife though…he’s still very much married by the way…is True IRA Royalty. Fiona Larkin is third generation True IRA. She got Telford involved in the cause. They were childhood sweethearts from what I know. The two were living as a married couple for a few years before they had their daughter. They have one child, Kerrianne Larkin Telford. She’s about twelve going on thirteen. Looks like they were a happy little family of terrorists for a few years at least. That changed most likely when one Jimmy O’Phalen rose up in the ranks of the cause. Looks like Jimmy O’ didn’t seem to be a fan of Telford. Rumors have it that O’Phalen scarred Telford’s cheeks and took his family as his own…banished Telford from the cause and Ireland. Telford fell in with SAMBEL…guess he didn’t take the threat to get out of Belfast too seriously though it looks like he only remained in Ireland with SAMBEL for a couple of years…he patched over to SAMCRO right around the Spring of 2000. He rolled into town a few months after Miss. Y/L/N left town…can you imagine if he’d made it stateside a few months before she left…the pair would have found each other sooner. Either way it looks like the pair found each other. I spotted them out and about the other day and by the look of affection I spotted him giving her, I would guess Y/N has been given ol lady status by Telford. She doesn't appear to be sporting the crow ink some of the other ol ladies are, but all the same...the looks he was giving her screamed love…do have to wonder if she knows he’s married.”

She paused watching Hale’s jaw tense a smirk crossing her lips before she spoke again. “She knows how to pick them doesn't she? I bet Telford gives Y/N all sorts of juicy bits of pillow talk…sweet little tight thing like her must make him all relaxed and satisfied enough to get those lips moving. Pussy gets men talking; especially trusted pussy that they love. Judging by the looks Telford gives her around town; he’s dedicated. Given his traumatic past and his appearance, I bet it wasn’t hard to get him dedicated. I have a feeling that Y/N doesn’t have to do much to get him talking. Bet she only has to suck him off to get all sorts of information out of him.”

“She’s not going to say a word, if she is an ol lady, she’s been given the orders on how to handle questions about the club. Even if Chibs is giving her details she won’t betray him.” Hale snapped trying to push thoughts of Y/N and Chibs doing anything slightly sexual from his head, the thought feeling him with both disgust and envy of what the Scotsman managed to have with Y/N.

Stahl shrugged her shoulders as she spoke. “Even if she doesn’t know he’s still married? Bet if we dropped some truth on her about her boyfriend’s current marital status, we might get her pissed off enough to run her mouth. If he betrayed her then well…hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

“And if she knows he’s married.” Hale remarked what Stahl was suggesting make bile rise in the back of his throat. Call it a crush or fondness or whatever, but he didn’t like the idea of breaking Y/N’s heart to get information.

“If the tart is fine with being a mistress then I’m sure we can find some other way to get her lips moving. It doesn’t hurt to give her some pressure and see how she handles it.” Stahl provided a smirk crossing her lips at the rage in Hale’s eyes at the statement about Y/N being a tart.

She spoke again, a chuckle leaving her. “Don’t look so gloomy David, this might work in your favor. We get Telford out of the picture and you might just have a shot. Maybe we push her off bad boys, you can play white knight. You can finally put those handcuffs to use with her in a far more pleasant environment. Of course that might put a stop to the fun we’ve been having together hmm, but who am I to stand in the way of true love.”

He scoffed at the comment, his shoulders tensing at the suggestion as well as the implication of what Stahl and he had fallen into.

Stahl let out a sigh. “She can have you when I’m done. Trust me David, we can always press the ol ladies. No information is useless in RICO.”

Hale cringed at the comment, his stomach turning at this plan. 

He took a deep breath, having the feeling that Stahl was in for a challenge. Y/N was a tough nut to crack. 

Pissed off Y/N didn’t run her mouth. She just lashed out.

—----------------------------------------------

Y/N was surprised and relieved to see the roses left on her parent’s gravestones. She could admit she’d not been to the graveside since her father’s burial.

She’d been to the cemetery plenty enough thanks to her work…but she’d not had the nerve to walk over to the section where quite a few of her family were laid to their final rests.

Her paternal ancestors and their spouses were all buried close by one another. The oldest section of the cemetery held her oldest ancestors and their offspring. 

She knew that one day she herself would most likely be buried here alongside her family. There were already two plots at her parents' side that technically belonged to her.

Her father was always one to plan ahead when it came to funerals and had purchased the plots remarking Y/N could keep them for Daniel and herself or if she married and wanted to be buried with her future spouse she could sell her plot.

She had rolled her eyes at the comment about marriage of course. The idea had seemed preposterous given her tumultuous dating history and how most men who might be ideal for a future spouse showed her little interest aside from gazing longingly at her body.

She’d dated a few guys out in New York. She’d even had one pretty serious boyfriend but it had fizzled out before any serious talk about marriage and the future had come to fruition.

She knew her past held her back in her relationships in New York. How was she supposed to explain her past with the MC in Charming to prospective life partners?

She knew her most recent ex-boyfriend had some suspicions about her past…given her tendency to occasionally flinch during moments of intimacy that got a little too rough. She had never worked up the nerve to go into the full story though. She had a feeling her ex had sensed her trauma but had not been equipped to deal with it when she’d shut down any pleas for information about her past.

She was not quite ready to go into her background with that boyfriend. She was certain he couldn’t handle her past. So, she’d pushed him away the same way she did with most boyfriends. Scaring guys and pushing them out with cold behavior was easier than going into detail about her time as a friend of SAMCRO and the pain she’d endured at Gunner’s hands.

Chibs Telford was the first romantic partner who had any knowledge of what Gunner had done to her as well as her past sexual encounters with both Jax and a few other men.

She was stunned by Chibs’ reaction. He not only still wanted her, but had proven to her that he desired her.

It was not an outcome she had imagined when she’d allowed herself to imagine what might happen if she were to ever reveal the darker parts of her past to a man who liked her.

She kept thinking back to the words Chibs had said to her after he’d eaten her out; that he wanted to show her how she deserved to be treated.

It was a new and exciting concept to her; being treated well by a romantic partner.

She hoped that she’d proven to him that she wanted to treat him in kind. She couldn’t help but to think that with his own traumas he deserved to be reminded of how he deserved to be treated as well. 

She’d been more certain that he deserved all the tenderness and adoration on the planet by his reaction to the knowledge that she was planning on going to the gravesite today.

He’d offered to come along with her. He’d wanted to provide her with emotional support when she’d admitted she’d not gone to her parents' gravesite since her father’s funeral.

Y/N could admit she’d been tempted to let him tag along.

She’d resisted the urge to allow it though. She’d told herself that her first visit to the gravesite should be on her own.

Perhaps in the future though; she might let Chibs come with her.

A morbid voice in the back of her head told her it was the most depressing bring the guy you like home to meet the parents' situation, but she shushed the voice. 

She was also overtaken with the realization that she was an orphan now. She had no living parents…so that made her an orphan didn’t it?

A voice in the back of her head told her it was a dumb thought…everyone became an orphan at some point in their lives, so it wasn’t something that was that unique.

She shifted the red roses aside placing the daisies she’d purchased on either parent’s grave.

She had a feeling the roses left on each grave had been Old Charlie’s doing. Roses seemed more his taste than Skeeter’s.

She was not surprised to see that the graves had been well maintained, any flowers that had been left at her father’s funeral being taken away after they’d wilted. The area was clean and polished waiting for her.

She had a feeling that this was both Old Charlie’s and Skeeter’s doing. The men had most likely been out to the gravesite maintaining it until she felt ready to make it out. It was clear that they’d cared enough about her to make it neat and ready for her.

She found herself sitting on the ground directly in front of her father’s tombstone not caring if the dirt below her got her jeans somewhat dirty. It would be a long while before grass grew over the filled in grave. Grass had long ago grown over her mother’s filled in grave given that the woman had died when Y/N was so young.

She sighed, her eyes lingering on her mother’s tombstone for a brief moment. She rarely visited it. Her father had been the one who had gone out to maintain it.

She’d gone once or twice when she was a teenager looking for some maternal connection that she’d craved. She felt foolish for the action knowing she would not find that connection in a cold marble tombstone.

Her mother’s full name was written on the dark marble stone in neat font: Caroline Hope Y/L/N. Beloved Wife and Mother. Her birthdate and death date were written below the inscription. A small dove had been carved into the edge of the stone. It was a simple stone and Y/N had been certain her father had struggled to choose it as he’d planned her mother’s entire funeral.

She’d never quite understood how he’d had the mental strength to embalm and bury the woman he loved, but Y/N assumed that in her father’s mind it was just the last act of love he could give his wife. He’d made sure she was cared for. Y/N could distinctly remember seeing the clothing her mother had been buried in…a modest blue sundress with a white floral print and a pearl necklace. She had only been four then, but somehow her mother’s funeral dress was a core memory that had stuck. Her father had allowed Daniel and her to view their mother in the casket at the funeral. Daniel had run away from it but Y/N had remained staring at the woman. 

She was unsure if she loved or hated her father’s choice of giving her this core memory.

She tore her eyes from her mother’s tombstone, hating to admit she felt disconnected from the woman. Y/N felt a sense of love knowing that this was her mother, but she didn’t remember her clearly enough to feel the sense of grief she told herself she should feel.

She’d always held the thought in; certain it would upset her father. Her mother had been the love of her father’s life. She’d been his first and his last everything.

They’d met as teenagers and were one another’s first love. Her mother’s father had worked the funeral circuit preaching around Charming and surrounding towns and he’d brought his daughter along. Y/N’s father had been the funeral director’s son. 

Y/N’s parents had met for the first time at a funeral. It was not the most romantic meet-cute, but it was her parents. 

Her father had never remarried after her mother’s death. He’d not even dated. He’d remained dedicated to her even in death.

When Y/N was younger she’d hoped that she might be lucky enough to find love that deep with someone. 

As she’d gotten older though she’d become jaded by the concept.

She sighed, staring at her father’s tombstone, the dark marble was simple with her father's name engraved into the stone: Lloyd Oliver Y/L/N. Beloved Father. Dedicated Husband. Respected Mortician. 

The last addition had been her father’s request. Even in death he was proud of his profession.

She felt her throat grow tight telling herself this would feel cathartic even if she was just talking to a marble stone. “I’m sorry I haven’t been out here to visit…I’m actually sorry for a lot of things I’ve done lately.”

She clasped her hands together wringing them, her voice tense. “I can say without any hesitation that if you were still here right now…that saying sorry wouldn’t be enough with what I’ve done. I know how proud you were of our work…how proud you were that I followed you into the work you loved. I’m afraid I’ve sullied it though. You would hate what I’ve done…I fucked it up again, just like I always do. You know me; family disappointment as usual.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, her voice soft. “I’m sorry though, I really really am. I went down a path you’d hate. I got greedy and now I can’t get out of this…the sick thing is I was given a possible way out of it by Filip and I told him no. I am so desperate to burn in the hell of my own making. I…maybe I just like the pain. I think I deserve it in some sick way. How else do you explain why I’m so impulsive? I let the flame burn me and I never figure out that fire hurts…maybe I know it hurts but some part of me likes it. Maybe I’m sick? You did always worry about me…when I was a kid, I was way too interested in your job…Remember that teacher I had in elementary…fourth grade…she thought I was disturbed because I talked about your job so much…maybe I am. I mean what kind of person is so willing to do what I’ve done? What kind of girl prefers the company of the dead because the living scare the hell out of her? Maybe people around town are right about me? I’ve had a few boyfriends in New York tell me I’m not normal. Maybe at the end of the day I’m not right in the head…maybe I’m fucked mentally. How else do you explain the choices I make? I’ve always been quick to anger, too depressed, too impulsive, too starved for risk. I never know what’s good for me. I’ve had nice guys ask me out…back in New York…hell even Deputy Hale tried to take me to dinner pretty soon after I got into town… and I would rather scoop my eyes out with a melon baller than let a nice guy love me. I push people away because it protects me. I go for guys who don’t deserve me…I go for what hurts me. I let someone like Gunner violate me more than once and I stuck around. Maybe my brain is just abnormal.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I always felt bad for you…two bad kids. How could such a nice guy have such bad kids? I used to blame you for it when you’d scold me for whatever crap I had pulled…say that you were too damn nice and that was probably why I was so rotten. I tried to say that maybe if you were less focused on your job and more focused on Danny and me then we’d not have turned out so bad. I know it was unfair to turn it back on you. I think I was parroting the perceptions I heard from people around town though…poor charitable respected Lloyd Y/L/N dedicated to his service to the community but cursed with two ungrateful brats. You were always fighting to keep me out of jail or worse…always dealing with Danny’s health after the accident…always trying to balance the job with making sure your kids stayed alive. I know Danny and I both gave you hell…You died thinking that I was finally done giving you hell…but surprise.”

She let out a shaky sigh, her fingers reaching out to trace the birth and death date on the tombstone. “You died thinking SAMCRO was a thing of my past…you thought your biker whore daughter had finally grown up…I know you’d hate me for calling myself that. You never were fond of my choice in language especially when I used it to degrade myself. I know I always tried to take some high ground and claim that I was nothing like the girls that hung around the MC and threw themselves at anything in a kutte…was I really any better though at the end of the day? I may have been a bit more discerning in who I fucked but…I still liked a man in a kutte and a criminal record a mile long. I loved the danger…I loved the chaos. Nice guys who worked nine to five jobs just didn’t do it for me like the outlaws could. I wasn’t satisfied with a dick unless the guy attached to it had a rap sheet.”

She rolled her eyes, the words leaving her. “I know…just what every man wants to hear about, his daughter’s sex life. I guess you aren’t really here to hear it though…I hope you’re not hanging around watching me that much. That would be kind of creepy if you were just hanging around watching me 24-7.”

She let out another shaky breath as she spoke. “I met someone…Jesus, Daddy, you’d hate Filip. You would take one look at the reaper on his back and kill him on sight. You’d ship me back to New York if you were still here. You would not even give Filip a minute of your time to even attempt to win you over. You would look at his appearance and who he is and want me to get away from him. You’d see the scars on his cheeks and the kutte on his back and that would be that, no chance of accepting him.”

She shook her head, a small humorless laugh leaving her. “I know the age difference would make you less than enthusiastic. He’s forty five years old…just turned forty five. He was about sixteen when I was born. If that wasn’t enough to make you cringe…He’s got a wife and a kid back in Belfast…they’re estranged but they are still there…You’d take one look at those facts and shoot him on sight. I’m sure you’d take me for a fool…your poor damaged daughter hooked up with the married outlaw biker who is way too old for her…and if that didn’t piss you off you’d be so enraged about his past in Belfast even if I’d lie and try to tell you it's only rumors. I know you would just look at Filip and see danger. You’d see a guy who is going to destroy your kid. You wouldn’t think he’s good enough.”

She traced her father’s name, her voice soft. “I know what I’d say to you though. I’d say that he's good enough. I would tell you I don’t care about Belfast or who lives there…The age difference doesn’t bother me. I’d probably try to push your buttons and spit out some bullshit about how I am happy to call Filip Daddy even if he’s not quite old enough for that unless he was a teen dad. I’d probably tell you that a man his age has the experience to know how to make me feel so good, that he’s far more gifted in bed than guys my age.”

She paused, rolling her eyes. “I never was appropriate and I kind of lived to make you cringe back when I was having my rebellious years. I figured out that being vulgar and oversharing about anything sexual could make you back off and not suspect the reality of what I was going through. I was always capable of looking like a proper lady but my mouth and my tendency to love shocking people always ruined the prim lady disguise I wear.”

She cleared her throat, her words genuine. “I would be telling you the truth about him being worthy of me…he reminds me everyday that he wants to be worthy of having me. He’s tried pretty damn hard to woo me. I think even you’d be approving of the effort he’s put into it…the man didn’t run screaming when I told him what a trocar was. That’s impressive, you’d have to admit it. He asks me questions about my job; not to appease me or charm me, but because he wants to hear what I have to say. He’s been good to me. He makes me feel safe. I don’t think anyone has ever made me feel safe…at least not a romantic partner. I’ve never felt this protected with anyone.”

She felt her throat grow tight, spilling more of her heart. “I told him about Gunner…told him more than I even dared to ever tell anyone…even you. Pretty sure he’s the first person besides a therapist who knows all the details. I told him every last detail. He didn't run away like I feared he would. I was sure he’d run…or worse he’d look at me differently…like I am in fact just the biker groupie everyone around town thought I was back then. I was afraid if he knew about Gunner and the others…that he would surely leave. I mean…how is a guy supposed to cope with the fact that some of the men he shares a kutte with have fucked the girl he’s dating…how is he supposed to deal with the fact that one of those men, even if it’s a man in another charter…did what he did to me…I don’t know, I’ve always struggled with admitting what the lack of consent with Gunner meant…saying the word. Filip is the one who said the word…told me how wrong it was…even told me he wanted Gunner dead for what he did to me. I expected my past to be too much for him or for him to develop this weird jealousy issue…you know how guys are when they know someone else has touched their possessions… Filip though, his reaction was to feel sorrow for me…he wanted to show me what being shown love is supposed to feel like…he wanted to protect me and get retribution for what happened to me. He offered to kill for me, Daddy…and he meant it. I know you’d probably not approve of the fact that he’s capable of such a thing…but I’d have to hope that you’d approve of his desire to keep me safe…to love me. Filip doesn’t view me as a possession. I know you’d find that really really hard to believe…men in his world have some pretty fucked views of women. I’m not claiming he’s some abnormality in that world. I just think I’m as much Filip’s as he’s mine though.”

She sighed knowing she was safe to say the words here with no one to listen. “I love him…I love Filip Telford. He doesn’t know about it yet…I’m half afraid to tell him. What if he doesn’t feel the same? I keep thinking of what you’d say…you’d probably tell me that if he’s dumb enough not to love me then he’s too dumb for me. I need him to love me though…it sounds so pathetic to say it…I've never claimed to need anyone to love me...I have always been the type to say that people can love me or hate me and I don't give a damn either way...I like to think I’m independent…that I could go back to life before I met him…I, so much has changed in my life so fast over these past months. I resisted his affections so much when I first met him...I was afraid of what he'd lead me to...of falling back in with SAMCRO. He's made it clear though that he has zero intention of leading me back into the pain that I found with his world...I’m scared of how my life has changed over these past few months, of how things have changed since you died and I came back home, but Filip…he makes it feel so much less scary. I’ve opened up to him so much about my past and I have never felt comfortable enough with anyone to do that. I don't feel so alone with him around. I've never felt that...belonging. I always try to pretend that I don't mind being alone. I try to say that loneliness is just a part of life...Filip makes me want to stop isolating myself...and not accept the idea that I just have to be alone. I have never had that with anyone...the sense that they feel lucky to have me around...the acceptance of me for who I am. I don't have to pretend not to be so morbid or so quick to anger. I don't feel like I have to hide the parts of me that scare other people around Filip. I need him more than he knows. I just keep hoping that maybe he needs me just as bad.”

She shook her head reaching up to wipe at a stray tear threatening to spill from her eye. "I can’t say that you’d be fond of Filip… I can’t say you two would love each other, or even try to pretend to get along…but I think that maybe my loving him would be enough for you…I think me being happy with him would be enough. You always worried about my happiness…about me finding my place in the world. I want to be in his world…it scares me, but I trust that he would keep me safe.”

She spoke again, pulling her hand back from the stone. “I’m going to visit more often…even if you aren’t here, I know you’re not really here…I want to bring Filip sometime. He wants to come with me…to support me. I’m going to let him. I am letting him in…you’d like that…me letting someone in.”

She adjusted the daisies in front of the stone as she spoke. “Even if you wouldn’t be proud of me, I hope you’d still love me. You told me once that a father never stops loving his child. I hope that’s true.”

She stood up, wiping the dirt from her jeans as she spoke. “I love you, Daddy. I’ll see you later.”

She turned ready to make the long trek back to her car hoping that she could maybe get a latte somewhere to perk up enough to make it to the grocery store to gather the items she needed for the week.

She paused as a woman approached her. The professional looking woman was thin and tall with straight dark blonde hair and a pantsuit that screamed Fed. She appeared to be in her mid thirties at least. Her lips were thin and she wore little makeup. She had a narrow straight nose and well manicured brows. Her eyes were dark and they were fixed on Y/N.

She felt a chill run down her spine as the woman approached her giving a calm smile that did not match the intensity of her gaze. “Y/N Y/L/N?”

Y/N nodded her head, her voice tense, she doing her best to appear relaxed and calm. “Speaking.”

The woman pulled a badge from her jacket pocket revealing that Y/N was right to think fed. “Agent June Stahl, ATF.”

Y/N sighed  keeping that same relaxed demeanor as she spoke. “Can I help you Agent Stahl?”

“I’m guessing you aren’t here on business? More of a personal visit?” Stahl asked, nodding down at the dark wash jeans and gray babydoll tee Y/N was wearing. 

Y/N spoke her stomach turning at Stahl’s avoidance of the question. “I’m not here for work.”

She paused speaking again trying to sound more assertive than she felt. “How can I help you?”

Stahl spoke as she shoved her badge back into her jacket pocket. “What do you know about SAMCRO?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at the question. Stahl apparently was ready to jump right into it. She shrugged her shoulders giving the company line Chibs had taught her to give though she’d known the line long before Chibs and she had become involved. “That motorcycle club? Pretty sure they’re just a bunch of mechanics who are motorcycle enthusiasts. Pretty sure they throw a good wild party.”

Stahl smirked at the comment, not surprised by it. “Of course, Didn’t you used to be a frequent attendee of those wild parties?”

Y/N shifted in place, her arms crossing over her chest. “I did use to prefer Jack Daniels to mint tea. Didn’t everyone have a rebellious phase?”

Stahl nodded her head, not missing the chance. “And what a phase it was for you. I have to say I’m kind of annoyed but impressed, Y/N, several arrests under your belt and you served not a moment in a real jail cell. Looks like you got more than a few slaps on the wrist though…guess it helps that your daddy was buddy buddy with the local sheriff.”

Y/N held her head up high fast to respond, keeping her voice even refusing to address how her father had always been willing to appeal to Unser to keep her out of any real trouble. “I am not proud of my past behavior. If I could go back I’d change a few things.”

“Is SAMCRO one of those things you might change? I have taken a look at that rap sheet of yours, sweetheart, looks like the innocent club of motorcycle enthusiasts got you into some trouble back in the day.” Stahl remarked, stepping closer to Y/N.

Y/N stepped back a frown crossing her features. “Like I said, I indulged a little too hard back then…people do dumb shit when they’re drunk.”

“Is one of those dumb things Nathaniel Papadopoulos? Or Gunner…as he seems to insist on being called?” Stahl remarked not shy about bringing up something that she knew would make Y/N cringe.

The mention of Gunner did just that. Y/N crossed her arms tighter, her voice picking up a hint of tension. “I did dumb shit when I drank as much as I did. He was the dumbest. I was nineteen years old when I met him…I wasn’t mature enough to pick romantic partners who were the best for me. Pretty sure most nineteen year olds pick shit men. I wised up and left him. It’s ancient history at this point in my life.”

“What about now? Just what kind of men are you picking?” Stahl remarked a cool smile crossing her lips as she attempted to prod the answer from Y/N.

Y/N sighed fast to respond. “Ones who don’t beat the shit out of me.”

Stahl reached into the professional looking messenger bag she had slung around her arm as she spoke, pulling out a file. “You do pick men with records though. You should have a peek at his.”

She handed the file to Y/N watching as the woman gazed down at it searching for any hint of a chance to pounce. 

Y/N gazed down at the open file in front of her, raising a brow at what was clearly Chibs’ rap sheet. She shrugged her shoulders, keeping her calm not bothering to read past a few lines not shocked by what she saw. “Is this supposed to mean something to me?”

Stahl smirked, nodding her head down at the file as she spoke. “Filip Chibs Telford is an interesting man isn't he…if you believe the rumors around town…I find that most rumors have some truth to them.”

She paused nodding down at the file again as she spoke. “You should flip to page two…the arrests in Belfast. He was court martialed and discharged from the Queens Armed Forces at nineteen. Looks like he had a temper in his youth. The arrests in Belfast continue from there. Pretty sure he got into a few brawls on the behalf of the cause…The True IRA tends to frown upon anyone they think may be a loyalist. Looks like Telford took offense to loyalty to the crown, looks like he was not afraid to fight dirty…then there’s the suspicion of a few bombings that he may or may not have been involved in, can’t get a clear answer on that one. Any investigations went nowhere…There were a few rumors about how he may have taken part in the murder of a Northern Irish police officer but there was never any proof to tie him and his associates to it…speaking of his associates in Belfast…his wife…Fiona, she’s definitely True IRA through and through. Third generation, comes by it honestly. Her mugshot is on page three…she got arrested with her husband for one of those brawls I talked about. She is a fiery one…darker than I expected though for an Irishwoman. Pretty sure she’s the Black Irish we always hear about.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop turning the page on autopilot gazing down at the pretty young woman in the photo and a photo of a young Chibs, his face free from the scars that Jimmy O’ had left him with.

Fiona was an elegant looking woman with wild dark curls and piercing dark eyes. Her nose was narrow and her lips were pressed into a smirk that showed she had no worries about having any mugshot taken. She gave off the energy of someone who was well versed in danger and quite content to invoke it if necessary.

Stahl spoke up, a slight smirk on her lips clearly hoping to strike a nerve. “You did know he’s married right?”

Y/N glanced up at Stahl, her face not giving the reaction the woman was probably hoping for. She kept her cool not letting the information of what Chibs had done in Belfast nor the photo of his estranged wife rattle her. “Yes, I was aware. They’re estranged. Divorce unfortunately is not an option…You know how the Catholics are? I’m afraid I don’t know too much about Filip’s years in Belfast aside from the mundane fact that he was a mechanic and that he left some tragedy behind.”

If Stahl was disappointed in Y/N’s reaction she didn’t reveal it as she replied to the comment. “Yes, a true tragedy. I guess you’ve heard all the rumors that fly around Belfast…Jimmy O’Phalen took Fiona and Chibs’ and her daughter for his own…left Telford with a reminder to not even attempt to get them back.”

Y/N clenched down on the file as Stahl motioned to her cheeks lining them along where Chibs’ scars were embedded into his cheeks. She spoke again, a sigh leaving her. “Telford joined up with SAMBEL after that…Guess he was familiar with the MC before hand, so, they were happy to take him on...even though rumor has it O’Phalen banished him from Ireland…guess the banishment finally kicked in though since Telford came stateside back in 2000. He hasn’t seen Fiona or his daughter since Kerrianne was around four. I’m amazed Telford got citizenship in the states…given his record and the trouble he’s gotten into out here.”

Y/N kept her voice flat as she replied. “America is the land of opportunity.”

“That it is…and what opportunity has he found with you?” Stahl dared to ask a small smile crossing her lips hoping to make Y/N squirm.

Y/N spoke knowing the line to give a hint of snark in her voice, deciding that being vulgar might work in her favor. “I open his beers and suck his dick. Pretty sure most men couldn’t ask for more.”

“And what does he say when you wrap those soft lips of yours around that dick of his?” Stahl remarked, proving she was just as vulgar.

Y/N gave her a smile that she hoped read as confident not above continuing with the line of conversation though she was full of shit…they’d not gone that far sexually just yet. “Pretty sure he’s too busy moaning when I take him down my throat. That Scottish accent of his is hard enough to understand on its own…the second he gets is dick wet I may as well not even try to decipher Glaswegian.”

“And what about afterwards…any juicy bits of pillowtalk? Orgasms tend to make lips loose, I find.” Stahl dared to ask she stepping even closer to Y/N.

Y/N gave her a calm smile, the words sliding from her. “He tends to start snoring after he cums…You know men. You rock their world and they reward you by conking out.”

She paused lying through her teeth deciding that playing up the sexual role would work in her favor. 

It was a game she’d learned to play during her time in the clubhouse…when she wanted to entice a man into giving her what she wanted. 

She found that playing the minx could work in her favor with men and could make straight women intimidated enough to slink back. “I will say that that is the one advantage to getting your rocks off with a woman. Women are a little better at pillowtalk…too bad I like a good thick dick more than a nice wet pussy.”

Stahl smirked giving Y/N a reaction that she’d expected to get if she’d been talking to a man. She sighed, the realization hitting her that Stahl was playing on both teams. She recognized a raging bisexual when she saw one. “I can only imagine…what a shame you have your preferences.”

Y/N spoke as she stepped back, dropping the flirty tone from her voice. “I don’t know too much about SAMCRO. I can’t imagine they’re too interesting. Just a bunch of mechanics who love a good Harley and a crazy party…Like I said, any trouble they may find is usually aided by booze…people do dumb shit when they drink. I’m afraid my party days are over. Most people don’t like the idea of the local undertaker sliding around a stripper pole in a biker clubhouse. Pretty sure Filip would not be too into the idea of seeing me on any pole unless he’s the only one watching.”

“I’ll say it again, what a shame.” Stahl remarked that smirk still on her lips though Y/N did spot a hint of annoyance in the woman’s eyes at the fact that Y/N was still feeding the company line on SAMCRO.

She paused speaking again. “Telford and you make an interesting pair…a funeral director and a biker…just how did you meet?”

Y/N gave her a calm smile, the lie sliding from her lips. “My Acura got a flat tire. We got to talking and one thing led to another. I’ve always had a thing for accents.”

Stahl spoke up, nodding over Y/N shoulder at the gravestones. “You came back to Charming to a big mess from what I heard. Your father left you with some debt?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Y/N remarked her voice cool and collected she snapping the folder she’d been holding shut.

Stahl nodded her head at the comment she daring to bring out the big guns. “I’ve taken a peek at those debts of yours. You paid a little chunk of them off in cash…Just where did you get the cash? The payment was in the thousands. Lots of cash to having lying around with your debts.”

Y/N remembered the lie Chibs had told her to tell. She was relieved he’d given her enough background about Clay and Gemma’s finances, so that she could tell a believable story.  “Gemma Teller Morrow asked for my expertise. Her poor grandson having such a frightful entrance into the world got her thinking about her own mortality. Her husband and she were willing to pay me quite well for my time to discuss plans. They know my time is valuable and they took up quite a bit of it…They were willing to make it worth my while as they kept me so busy and out of reach from any of my other duties at work…pretty sure Gemma has some oil investments that give her some nice payouts. I came to them for the plans…made a trip out to the garage to discuss it all and went through the trouble of bringing all of the catalogs I have. They choose a luxury option for their caskets…mahogany and satin. I don’t do home visits for funeral planning, so they wanted to make sure I was compensated for the exception I made for them. They paid me double my usual rate plus travel expenses.”

“That is an extravagant payout.” Stahl remarked her tone of voice hinting she did not buy Y/N’s tale.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, her voice calm knowing she sounded heartless, but it was better to sound heartless than guilty. “People will pay anything to have peace of mind when it comes to death.”

Stahl dared to speak, nodding again at the cemetery around them. “I would have thought they might shy away from using your services…given what happened to those two men you buried a while back.”

Y/N let out a soft sigh shaking her head. “The grave robberies were an unfortunate incident. The families of those poor men were heartbroken over what happened to their loved ones' remains. I did everything in my power to make sure that they were cared for. The family was far more understanding than they had to be. They know I did my part when it came to the care of their loved ones before their final rests were disturbed. I hope the Lodi police find whoever was responsible for such a gruesome act. If I got my hands on them…well let’s just say I don’t approve of anyone fucking with my paychecks.”

Stahl smirked, hating to admit she was impressed with how quick the response was. Y/N was not an easy nut to crack. “And your boyfriend had nothing to do with those empty graves.”

“Why would Filip have anything to do with it? He’s just a mechanic.” Y/N remarked a small laugh leaving her she managing to make the accusation appear as though it sounded ridiculous to her.

“A mechanic with quite the record. You should hang on to that file, Y/N. Take a good look at it. There’s some really interesting bits of information there. Filip Telford is far from innocent. I think you are smart enough to know that. I am also thinking you aren’t so innocent either…that must be why he’s so obsessed with you. If that wife of his is any indication of the kind of woman he likes…then you are one bad girl.” Stahl remarked, nodding down to the folder still in Y/N’s hands.

Y/N gave Stahl a calm smile shrugging her shoulders. “I’m an absolute angel, Agent Stahl.”

She paused, giving the agent a flirty smile as she stepped around her ready to pass. “At least outside the bedroom. Now, if you excuse me. I have some errands to attend to. If you have any further questions you can find me at the funeral home.”

And with that Y/N found herself heading back to her car the folder she held clutched tightly in her hand.

She couldn’t decide if she wanted to burn the folder or not.

—-------------------------------

Chibs sighed rolling his eyes at Juice as he rounded the billiards table for what felt like the hundredth time. 

He spoke nodding down at the pool cue in the younger man’s hands. “Are ya takin yer damn shot or not? I ain’ got all day, Juicey.”

Juice scowled at the older man, his voice tight. “We put money on this okay? I don’t trust you after last time. I still say you hustled me, talked that damn croweater into distracting me and putting me off my game.”

“Aint my fault yer a shite pool player. I won fair an square.” Chibs snapped back a small smirk on his lips knowing that he had maybe talked the buxom blonde croweater Juice was recalling into helping distract Juice from the game.

It hadn’t been too selfish in Chibs’ opinion. He got Juice laid.

Chibs sighed as his cell phone began to chime he yanking it from his kutte knowing he might as well have a phone call since Juice was nowhere near getting on with the game.

He felt his heart lift at the familiar number as it flashed along his screen. He hit accept call, his voice becoming far more cheery than it had been moments before. “Hen, what are ye doin?”

“I need you, Filip.” She blurted out the comment striking him off guard.

The words were appealing but he was not hearing them in the context he would prefer. Her voice seemed panicked.

She spoke again knowing she sounded paranoid but a voice told her if Stahl was interested in her then who was to say that the feds hadn’t found a way to listen in on her calls. She had little idea how bugging phones worked outside of movies. “I need help with my lamb…seasoning it. You know what to do with lamb.”

Chibs furrowed his brow, thrown off even more by the comment. Y/N didn’t eat lamb.

He’d learned that bit of information when he’d mentioned Half Sack’s vegetarianism to Y/N as well as Gemma’s criticism of vegetarians. Y/N had commented that she was not a vegetarian and didn’t think she would be strong willed enough to be one. She did admit that she couldn’t bring herself to eat veal or lamb though. She had commented that she knew it was stupid as she’d eat the adult versions of cows at least…but she couldn’t get herself to eat lamb nor veal as they were both baby animals. He could remember finding the comment kind of sweet though amusing.

He felt his stomach turn it hitting him she was worried that someone was listening in on the conversation. 

He spoke trying to keep his calm and not fly off the handle at the thought. “Are ya safe, Love? Is anyone following ya? Are ya alone?”

“Yeah, no. You know it. I uh…just ran into someone while I was out…we got to talking as she reminded me of how much a pain lamb is to deal with. I know you know just what to do with lamb. So, I thought I’d call in the expert. I thought I might call Gemma about it…you remember what she told me about lamb back when we met to make those future funeral plans for Clay and her. I figured that you might be the person to go to though.” Y/N remarked still keeping her cool not helping but to feel like a moron for this entire charade.

She had a feeling that Chibs seemed to have caught up on the game though and was intelligent enough to decode what she was trying to say.

He spoke tossing the pool cue he’d been holding down on the table not caring if it scattered the balls and alarmed Juice. “Aye, I’ll be there, Hen. Don’t ya worry Mo ghràidh. I’ll handle the lamb fer ye.”

“Okay, be at my place…I’m headed there now.” She provided saying the remaining words in her head. I love you, Filip.

“Aye, I’ll be there soon.” He replied unaware that she was thinking the same thing he was currently thinking. I love you.

He hung up his cell sending Juice nod as he turned to leave. “Game’s over, Laddie. If Clay asks I’m goin to see my ol lady. Gotta help her with some lamb. Tell Gemma to give me a call. She knows what to do with lamb.”

Juice furrowed his brow as he watched Chibs leave the man not paying him any mind. He spoke to an empty clubhouse completely confused by the interaction. “Lamb?”

—----------------------------------------------

Her lips met his the second he walked in the door.

Chibs let himself into Y/L/N and Sons Funeral Home well past knocking and waiting for someone to allow him entrance.

He’d spent almost every night in the home this past week, so formalites like knocking had been forgotten.

He made his way upstairs nodding to Skeeter, the man giving him only rolled eyes in response.

As soon as Chibs stepped past the sliding door that led him into Y/N’s living quarters her lips met his in a bruising kiss.

He returned the kiss, his hands sliding along her body appreciating the figure he’d been shamefully admiring since their first meeting.

She pulled from his lips reluctantly, her voice sounding frantic now that she was far away from Agent Stahl. “An ATF agent ran into me at the cemetery today. Had some questions for me.”

“Shite, who was it?” Chibs dared to ask, having the feeling he already knew the answer.

Y/N took a deep breath trying to calm her anxieties. “Agent Stahl…fucking bitch tried to push my buttons by asking me about my past…Gunner and some other shit. She was eager to mention your wife…and shit that happened in Belfast. Tried to show me mugshots and your criminal record. She left a freaking file with me and told me to take a look at it so I could learn all about you. She’s trying to make me crack and run my mouth. Pretty sure she thinks that if she makes me afraid of you then I’ll turn and give her enough to go after SAMCRO.”

Chibs clenched his jaw, shaking his head, his hold on Y/N tightening. “What’d ye say?”

“I told her I know nothing about what you were up to in Belfast. I know about your wife and am unbothered by it. I know nothing about SAMCRO. I told her all I do is suck your dick and open your beers…I got pretty graphic on that last detail.”

Chibs smirked at the comment, his hand wandering down her body to give her backside a squeeze he was unable to stop himself. “Aye, ye ain given me that privilege yet, Hen. Probably had to use yer imagination on that one, aye?”

She sighed, shaking her head at the comment though it did make a hint of smile cross her features. “I thought the lewd angle would unnerve her…I have the weirdest sense that it turned her on. Pretty sure I can spot a bisexual from a mile away.”

Chibs rose a brow at the information. He spoke, shaking his head at the comment. “Ye know I would rather hear bout ye gettin a woman hot and bothered if she wasn’t a Fed.”

“I know you would…sadly I’m telling you what I told her…pussy doesn’t do it for me the same way a dick does. I have no interest in muff diving anytime soon, sorry to break your heart.” She commented, not shocked by this line of conversation. He truly was a male through and through.

“Aye, can’t say I’m disappointed…I don’t like sharin.” He remarked, surprising her by the certainty in his voice.

He sighed his hand running up and down her back as he spoke again. “Did ye look at the record? My rap sheet?”

“Not really…She mentioned a bunch of crap you pulled in Belfast. Saw a mugshot of Fiona and you…Stahl loved shoving that in my face. She tried to coax me into looking into the entire file.” Y/N explained noticing the tension in Chibs’ body at the mention of his estranged wife and of Belfast.

He felt his throat grow tight as he spoke again knowing that there was nothing he regretted in that file she was discussing. He had to fear that Y/N might find some things she was not pleased to learn about him…especially during his time with the cause. “Wouldn’t care if ye wanted to look at the entire file…ye probably should know bout the lad yer datin.” 

Y/N spoke so certain of the words that left her. “I know who I’m dating. I’m dating someone who has been so sweet and so protective of me right from the start. I’m dating someone who makes me laugh and as I recall eats me out like his life depends on it…which indicates he’s going to be pretty well versed in doing other things in the bedroom.”

She paused, pressing a kiss to his cheek catching the hitch in his breath at the mention of their bedroom activities. She spoke again, her voice soothing. “I’m dating a man who has known more pain than any human being should ever have to know, but still remains so strong and so compassionate. I’m dating a man who is loyal to his brothers and would do whatever it takes to protect what he believes in. I’m dating a guy who goes above and beyond to look out for me. He rushed all the way over here after I called him ranting about lamb like a nutcase…he offered to kill someone for me because he knows they caused me pain.”

She spotted his hold on her grew tighter at the mention of Gunner. She spoke once again, her lips pressing back to his cheek. “The man I’m dating has listened to me cry over my brother and my father on our first date and didn’t run screaming. He doesn’t care if my job scares the hell out of everyone. He treats me better than I ever believed I deserved. He proves to me each and every day that he wants me to be treated with all the adoration and security on the planet. He makes me feel safer than anyone has ever been capable of making me feel. I know just who I’m dating. I don’t need a criminal record to tell me a thing about him. I know who he is outside of shit he’s done.”

He sighed, his lips sliding along hers relief washing over him. She spoke as she pulled from the kiss her voice soft. “I don’t need a fucking ATF agent to tell me who I’m dating, because I know him better than she ever will.”

She spoke again, her voice firm. “I am not telling her shit. I’m sure it won’t be the last time she tries to press me over this. I know that ATF is up SAMCRO’s collective ass right now. I’m not telling her a thing though Filip.”

“Aye, I know, Hen. I trust ye. Ye did so good, Love. Fuckin gash doesn’ stand a chance with my lass.” Chibs praised her, the comment making Y/N preen somewhat. She was surprised by the feeling. She didn’t think she had a praise kink, but anything was possible.

He pressed a kiss to her lips he fast to speak again. “I want ye to keep tellin her the same thing, Hen. Ye don’t know shite. She ain’ got nothin on ye. She probably thought the fuckin life I was forced from in Belfast was some big secret I was keepin from ye.”

Y/N nodded her head knowing that was exactly what Stahl had been hoping for. She spoke a soft sigh leaving her. “She brought up the empty graves…Kept my story the same as always.”

“That’s my hen. Ye know yer in the clear on that mo ghràidh. Ye’d already be in handcuffs and been carted away if they had shite on that.” Chibs reassured her a sense of comfort washing over at at the words.

She knew he was right. It had been long enough. Lodi had left her alone and she had a feeling the ATF didn’t care about two empty graves when the local P.D. had failed to connect the dots between her, SAMCRO, and those bodies.

She had a feeling the ATF was more interested in the gun running that SAMCRO was secretly engaging in. 

Any pressure Stahl was placing on her was to entice her into slipping up and saying something Chibs had told her in confidence. She knew that the agent was getting nothing from her. 

Y/N would never betray the man she loved no matter how much Stahl irritated her and attempted to intimidate her.

She allowed her lips to slide along Chibs’ , the pair growing lost in the moment. She parted her lips from his knowing that there was only one thing she wanted at this moment that could make this day seem less awful. “I want you to take me to my room and love me so good that I forget all this crap.”

Chibs felt his heart rate increase at the comment, a warm flush of lust spreading throughout him. Was she offering what he hoped? “Aye, is that so? Are ye sure, Hen? Ye want it all?”

She nodded her head stunned at the realization of how badly she wanted this. She pressed her lips to his the kiss feather light before she spoke. “I am so sure. Take me to my room and love me Filip.”

He felt the moan leave his lips as she took his hands in hers leading him from the room to their destination. 

He knew he had every intention of giving her what she was asking for. 

He would give her anything. It was a realization he was quite content with.

[withcameraandpen]

Sondam Week 2024, Day 5

Here's my Day 5 submission for the prompt Sleepy! It's a fluffier entry, but that def won't last for long :)

As always, you can read on AO3 here! Enjoy!

Despite the uncomfortable mattress at the motel, despite the chill in the air that pierced her bones, despite the knowledge she was the Despair Killer’s next target, Sonia crashed the second her head hit the pillow.

She awoke bathed in sunlight streaming through the motel’s thin curtains. She tried to forget what she learned last night, wishing to cling to the warm peace, but her fear was not so easily dodged.

With a sigh, she got up and trudged to the bathroom. It was her custom to shower in the morning, but Gundham had only packed so much for her. This wasn’t the kind of place that gave out travel-size shampoo for free, so she’d have to wait until the police finished processing her apartment.

She brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and put on yesterday’s clothes. She’d just pulled her hair into a ponytail when someone knocked on her door. She knew it had to be an ally; two police officers sat in a car in the parking lot all night with their lights off, watching her door out of their rearview mirror. They’d never let anyone except one of their own get so close.

She walked over, limping heavily on her left leg, and opened the door. Gundham was waiting on the other side, tall enough to blot out the sunlight. “Good morrow, Sonia,” he began. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, or whatever ‘fine’ is for police custody.” Her stomach grumbled. “And hungry.”

“They’ve almost finished examining your residence. If you’d like, you can prepare a list of items you’d like us to bring to you for your stay here.”

She frowned. “Why can’t I pack for myself?”

“Because we must keep your location strictly confidential.” His voice was firm. “If your pursuer sees you return to your home, they will be able to follow you to this safehouse.”

Her stomach lurched. Suddenly, she wasn’t hungry anymore. “You think they’re watching my house, even with all the police there?”

“We cannot take any chances. But if the police handle it, we’re able to sneak your belongings out as evidence, and then discreetly bring them to you.”

“Can’t I go back to my own home? If I’m going to have police guarding my door, does it really matter which door?”

“I’m afraid it does,” he replied. “The longer it takes the killer to find you, the better we can protect you.”

She felt childlike impulses erupt within her: she just wanted to go home, where she could be safe and warm, where she could block out all the evil in the world. But evil had already invaded her home, so this motel room, with its thin curtains and creaking bed, were all she had anymore. “Fine.”  

“I am sorry, Sonia.” He stepped in and closed the door behind him. “I am afraid this is how it has to be, but it will not be this way for long.”

Something resonated in his warm, deep voice that made her believe him. “Thank you. I’m sorry, Gundham.”

“There is no need for apologies,” he said gently. “You had all your comforts ripped away in one night. Of course you have gratitude for escaping with your life, but that does not negate what you miss. That loss will hopefully be finite, but I wish to do what I can to mitigate it.”

It was at that moment her stomach grumbled again. “I wonder,” he continued, “if I may also help by bringing you breakfast.”

She smiled, and was relieved to find she could smile again. “I’d appreciate that.”

She had asked for a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich from the nearest Dunkin. Nothing extravagant, though what she craved was a warm waffle breakfast at Teruteru’s Diner, but that wouldn’t keep in a Styrofoam container for a twenty-minute drive.

Gundham wasn’t gone for long. When he returned, he held two bags in one hand and a cardboard tray with two coffees in the other.

“I am afraid you have excellent taste.” He smiled sheepishly, setting the bags on the table. “Temptation pierced my defenses. I ordered the same for myself.”

She chuckled as she opened the bag. The savory scent of her breakfast sandwich made her stomach grumble again as she sat down at the tiny table. Gundham picked up the second bag and made for the door, but she asked, “Please, can you eat with me? I’m going a little crazy in here alone.”

His face lit up. “By your leave, my lady.”

He pulled back the chair and sat at the table, barely big enough for one person, let alone two. She took a big, unladylike bite of her sandwich and immediately felt better, and she chased the high with a sip of the coffee made exactly how she liked it.

They ate in silence for a while. Sonia hated silence more and more, but it was bearable when chewing sounds filled the air and a nice, greasy breakfast filled her stomach. Last night, he had kissed her bandages while helping her. The whole thing had a fantastical flair to it, like the prince kneeling before Cinderella with the glass slipper. But now, she found she liked it much better when they were on the same level. She wasn’t a damsel anymore; she was the master of her fate.

As they slowed down, Gundham suddenly perked up his head and said, “I wonder if I may ask you something.

“About the break-in?” What was left for him to ask?

“No.” He sighed. “It’s about Miss Ibuki Mioda.”

A familiar but gouging weight returned to her. Her grief for Kazuichi had allowed her to forget her grief for Ibuki, for which she was bizarrely, and maybe shamefully, grateful. “What about her?”

“Did she ever mention a fear of water to you? Or perhaps of drowning?”

“Yes.” The horrible irony had struck her as soon as she heard the news. “Her family went to the beach when she was a little girl, where she got sucked into a riptide. She didn’t get hurt, but it was a bad scare, and she’s been afraid of water ever since.”

A connection lit up in her brain suddenly, like a long strand of Christmas tree lights when you plug them in. “And Kazuichi said the same thing about the hydraulic lift!”

“I remember. You shared such a thing with me at the scene.” He paused, his brow creasing. “Sonia, we have reason to believe the killer is targeting people based on their fears.”

Her stomach turned, and suddenly her breakfast sat inside it like lead. “What do you mean?”

He glanced at the door and then the window, and then turned back to her. “When you shared Mister Soda’s fears with me at the scene, I remembered Miss Mioda’s parents saying something similar about their daughter regarding swimming. That connection was enough, so I reached out to Nekomaru Nidai’s family, who told me he had a phobia of fire. Do you know if that is true?”

Now she felt a peculiar whooshing sensation in her chest, like she was falling from a great height. It wasn’t all fear; she felt thrilled, too, and like she was chasing something. “That’s the coach, right? I remember awhile back there was a scandal because he refused to come to a school fundraiser, and the event the school was hosting for it was a bonfire.”

“And he’s the one who was burned to death,” Gundham reminded her needlessly. “Three out of four victims were murdered in accordance with their greatest fear.”

It rang with truth, but the theory didn’t make total sense yet. “What about Fuyuhiko and I? I worry about break-ins as much as anyone else, but it’s not a phobia or anything like that. And Fuyuhiko was stabbed with one of his own swords. If he was afraid of them, why would he keep them in his house?”

“My understanding,” Gundham said slowly, “is that his sword collection, including the murder weapon, belonged to his late wife.”

A chill ran down her spine. He continued, “I am loath to ask you this, but I’m afraid the local police resent sharing details of that case.”

“That’s not surprising,” she said, her plastic coffee cup growing cold in her hands. “Peko’s murder is one of their greatest failures. They barely open up to locals about it, let alone an outsider. Pardon me.”

“Hardly,” he replied. “Do go on. It is unsolved, I gather?”

“Not for lack of trying.” Fuyuhiko owned half the commercial buildings in Witch Creek, becoming the closest thing to a mogul in their little town. He had an explosive temper and a short fuse, but his admirers called that determination and nerve, revering those qualities as much as his business acumen. “His wife Peko was savagely beaten and then stabbed to death five years ago. At the time, the rumor was that Fuyuhiko was responsible, but the police never arrested him or anyone else.”

“He and his wife were both stabbed.” Gundam toyed with one of the many rings on his fingers. “His wife owned the swords. That does not suggest a power imbalance on its face. The husband has financial power, and she has physical power.”

“They used to be happy,” she continued, “but Fuyuhiko had a hair trigger for jealousy. Peko was a champion fencer in college and traveled to tournaments, first to compete and then to judge. Fuyuhiko had to stop going because of his commitments here, and suddenly they were a lot less happy.”

“Did he believe she was stepping out on her?”

“I think he was afraid of it.”

“Do you know if she ever did?”

“I don’t,” she admitted. “But if he treated me the way he began to treat her, I wouldn’t blame her.”

Gundham sat back in his stiff wooden chair. “If he did, in fact, murder his wife, then perhaps his greatest fear was retribution. To be impaled upon his victim’s sword is symbolic, but only to him.”

“The killer must have known, too,” she added.

“Did they? If our killer is targeting people based on their fears, then Fuyuhiko is a perfect victim. If he murdered his wife, then the sword symbolizes his guilty conscience and his fear of the truth being exposed. If he is innocent, the sword symbolizes a regurgitation of all the old speculation, and the likelihood of being blamed for a crime he did not commit. His mysterious death would have always been mentioned in league with his wife’s, but through the choice of weapon, their murders are now eternally entangled.”

It made so much terrible sense, but there was one last knot in the thread of logic. “If it’s all about fear, why is the killer using the Despair Sisters?” she asked. “They spread despair, not fear.”

Gundham deflated a little. “I have not divined that yet, but I am certain in the other connections we made. The use of their sigils is as intentional as everything else in these cases.”

Even if the sigils weren’t a direct match, they still fit with the rest of the killer’s plans. Were fear and despair really so different? People feel fear when a bad thing might happen, but people only despair when the bad thing does<happen. The killer wants to evoke fear or despair in his victims, but why? What was it all for?

“My lady.” Gundham’s deep voice broke through her thoughts. “I must ask: what is your greatest fear?”

What had she told Komaeda? Something about suffocation, but that wasn’t what she feared, not really.

“Being alone,” she replied.

Gundham remained silent, gazing at her. She couldn’t stand it. “Please, don’t make me explain myself.”

“There is no need. I know it all too well.”

“You do?”

“Many do not understand my work.” Sonia had seen him falter and soften, but for the first time, his mysterious, eccentric air vanished. No longer was he some ethereal spirit floating through Witch Creek. He looked tired and melancholy, stuck in a world that didn’t want him. “Skeptics believe I have lost my mind, and that I believe in every cult I study. But believers – as in, people who tend to be superstitious, and who more quickly accept the existence of a higher power – think I am evil to my core.”

“People…” She paused. “People are weird like that.”

His head tilted, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. “You mentioned you used to carry more occult books in your shop, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” It was uncomfortable to rehash, but worth it if she could warm this helpless creature before her. “I was always fascinated by the occult, but my parents hated it. They called it an obsession and said it was dangerous. I inherited the bookshop from them a while ago, but I only had the courage to stock it with books I like after they retired to California.”

“Why did you stop selling them?”

“Because people stopped coming in.” The shame of nearly destroying her parents’ legacy so soon after becoming its custodian crept up the back of her neck. “People thought the books – just books! – were dangerous, that their children would become heathens, all the usual stuff. So I stripped down that section until it was only a single shelf in the back of the shop, and people came back. It – it felt like I betrayed my parents to do it in the first place.”

“For choosing to be who you are?”

“For destroying what they worked hard for,” she retorted bitterly. If only it were that simple! “My parents immigrated from the kingdom of Novoselic. They spent their whole lives trying to fit in here for my sake, and I dashed all that hard work as soon as they handed me the keys.”

“You did no such thing,” he replied. “Shoppers returned, did they not? You cannot blame yourself for acting according to your own nature.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” An unbidden jealousy flared to life in her voice. “It’s easy for you to be different and be okay with it. You don’t have to live here. This place is a hive mind – if you’re not in line, you’re not a person.”

“You are correct. I do not live here.” He leaned forward, and suddenly his speech became a lot more deliberate. “And while my eccentricities impede my bonds with my fellow investigators, I do not depend on ‘fitting in,’ as you say, to keep my job. I have the luxury of my connections with them being purely social. To that end, I always thought: if I am peeling away parts of myself to forge a bond with someone, how strong can that bond ever be?”

That shattered something in her. She always believed she could be normal enough, ordinary enough, unremarkable enough that she could blend in seamlessly with the herd, but then she would cease to be Sonia Nevermind. Being a faceless thing seemed much better than being alone, but maybe she did not have a choice.

“Is that the answer?” she asked in a broken whisper. “To be friendless for the rest of my life?”

“I never said that.” His smile grew warm. “When you live as yourself, and not what other people wish you to be, you will find people who treat your friendship as a privilege. In fact, I believe you already have.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“Mister Soda, of course.” If he realized the implication in his own words, he did not show it. “I get the sense that neither of you compromised for the other.”

“Oh, of course.” Maybe she was just hoping to feel any positive emotion, no matter how ill-timed it was, but it wouldn’t have been so bad to keep misunderstanding Gundham, would it?

“He is – was a very good friend,” she replied. “And you’re right, we did lean on each other a lot. Both our families had moved away around the same time, and all that.”

She sat back, sipping the last of her now-lukewarm coffee. “Did you find out anything from his therapy notes?”

His head tilted. “Pardon?”

“At Hope Springs yesterday,” she replied, weirded out by his quizzical look. “Kazuichi had an appointment with him the day he died.”

“Mister Soda visited him, too?” He sat up, alert and tense. “I was only there to collect Mister Kuzuryu’s records.”

“Komaeda didn’t tell you Kazuichi was already seeing him?”

“No,” said Gundham gravely, “and I had specifically informed him about Soda’s death. He never told me. That’s now three victims who sought support from Komaeda: Kuzuryu, Soda, and yourself.”

“And in a town this small,” she added, “it’s totally possible the other two were seeing him informally. Ibuki’s parents would never allow her to see a shrink, so maybe she arranged something with Komaeda privately.”

“And Mister Nidai could have done the same!”

They paused, their gazes locked. Sonia took comfort in the fact that she saw as much dread on Gundham’s face that she herself felt.

[thislovintime]

The Monkees with WIXY DJ’s, and Peter and Micky onstage in Cleveland on January 15, 1967. Photos by George Shuba. (Other photos of Mike and Micky by Shuba were also sold in an auction some time ago; you can view preview images here.)

“I think they’re four of the grooviest guys around and I know that before long they’ll be the biggest things on television. I was privileged to meet them and I want to tell everyone how nice they are. They gladly take time to talk to their fans and sign autographs. They seem to genuinely appreciate their fans — something that a lot of groups don’t do.” -Lisa G., KRLA Beat, October 22, 1966

“The legendary Jane Scott of the Cleveland Plain Dealer was there at Public Auditorium to document the mayhem, which included fainting girls, police protecting the stage, and the ejection of disc jockeys! WIXY 1260 sponsored the show and was emceed by the WIXY Supermen Al Gates, Dick ‘The Wilde Childe’ Kemp, Larry Morrow, Bobby Magic, and Jerry Brooke. WIXY 1260 just celebrated their first year on the air, and they were already taking the town by storm. A few months earlier, WIXY brought the Beatles to town as they played Cleveland Municipal Stadium, stealing the thunder from rival WHK, who first brought The Beatles to Cleveland in 1964. WHK tried to fight back as three of the WHK Good Guys snuck in backstage, perhaps an attempt to one-up WIXY and get the Monkees to record some liners or perhaps do a quick interview. They didn't make it that far because they were quickly tossed out of Public Auditorium. However, someone other than the WIXY Supermen did get to interview the Monkees before the show. Maureen McCloskey of Lakewood and Cathy Aranyos of Cleveland Heights (both 13 years old) won a contest on WIXY to meet and interview The Monkees in their ninth-floor suite at the Hotel Sheraton-Cleveland.” - basementradioshow dot com, May 27, 2021

[mariana-oconnor]

The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax pt 3

Last time we came to the conclusion that she's either dead or she's not dead. Much like Schrödinger's cat. Shlessinger's Lady Frances is in a state of superposition and is both dead and alive at the same time. However, the purchase of a coffin for what appears to be an entirely legal burial does suggest that she may not be in quite as much of a superposition as we might like.

It was opened immediately, and the figure of a tall woman was outlined against the dim-lit hall.

Does she have the eyes of a ferret? And if so what happened to the poor ferret?

“I'd be very glad if you could tell me where that lady may be,” Peters answered coolly. “I've a bill against her for a nearly a hundred pounds, and nothing to show for it but a couple of trumpery pendants that the dealer would hardly look at. She attached herself to Mrs. Peters and me at Baden—it is a fact that I was using another name at the time—and she stuck on to us until we came to London. I paid her bill and her ticket. Once in London, she gave us the slip, and, as I say, left these out-of-date jewels to pay her bills. You find her, Mr. Holmes, and I'm your debtor.”

Look, the guy is a murderous dickhead who makes overly complicated plans to commit crimes that are essentially just theft, but you've got to admit he's a competent murderous dickhead. He's cool under pressure. He has a full prepared and plausible explanation for his ownership of the stolen goods. If the woman isn't found then there's literally no evidence to disprove his statements.

I do like it when a villain is competent, y'know.

“Where is your warrant?” Holmes half drew a revolver from his pocket. “This will have to serve till a better one comes.”

There was a whisk of feminine skirts down the passage, and the hall door was opened and shut.

May I take this moment to say how ahead of his time Watson is as he specifies that the skirts are feminine. Very progressive of him. How the sound of feminine skirts differs from masculine or non-binary skirts I am unsure, he clearly has impressive hearing.

"We ordered her funeral to be carried out by Stimson and Co., of the Kennington Road, who will bury her at eight o'clock to-morrow morning. Can you pick any hole in that, Mr. Holmes?"

Oh come on, Mr Peters. You're better than this. Don't start gloating now. You've got to keep up the pretence as totally as you can. Asking provicative questions like that might be tempting, but you should be acting as though you're horrified by this man disturbing the peace of the dead woman. You should be confused that he could have any possible reason to be acting like this. Even Holmes himself should have a doubt in his mind that you've done anything wrong.

👏Commit👏to👏the👏bit!👏

“We know where to lay our hands on this gentleman if he is wanted,” said the sergeant majestically, “but you'll have to go, Mr. Holmes.”

Majestically is such a strange adverb to use here. I'm not even sure how you would say that majestically. I guess Watson is just talking up the police because they helped them out.

So ended the day, save that near midnight our friend, the sergeant, called to say that he had seen flickering lights here and there in the windows of the great dark house, but that no one had left it and none had entered.

Demons. Clearly it's demons.

Look, obviously the pair of them have gone to great lengths to procure a body that died of natural causes in an irrefutable way. Clearly they're intending to swap the bodies because once the body has been checked once, no one's going to check it again. And Lady Frances will be buried under the identity of... Rose Spender and the woman they are claiming is Rose Spender is going to be weighted down and thrown in the Thames... or something like that. Or maybe they'll just put two bodies in the coffin. idk.

“What time was the funeral? Eight, was it not?” he asked eagerly. “Well, it is 7.20 now. Good heavens, Watson, what has become of any brains that God has given me? Quick, man, quick! It's life or death—a hundred chances on death to one on life. I'll never forgive myself, never, if we are too late!”

Given that you wasted time by giving this case to Watson in the first place and could have cleared everything up far more quickly if you had remembered that Watson is not good at investigating things, then yes. You shouldn't forgive yourself if she's dead.

With a united effort we tore off the coffin-lid. As we did so there came from the inside a stupefying and overpowering smell of chloroform. A body lay within, its head all wreathed in cotton-wool, which had been soaked in the narcotic.

Soaked in chloroform in a coffin?

Chloroform does not fuck around. Sure, you can't just knock someone out immediately by putting it over their mouth. But she's been in there for a while, I assume, and she's getting a concentrated dose that's wrapped around her entire face? No ventilation. Yeah, she's dead. Or she's at least got liver failure.

What with actual suffocation, and what with the poisonous fumes of the chloroform, the Lady Frances seemed to have passed the last point of recall. And then, at last, with artificial respiration, with injected ether, and with every device that science could suggest, some flutter of life, some quiver of the eyelids, some dimming of a mirror, spoke of the slowly returning life.

Zombie Lady Frances! The miracle of modern science strikes again.

Get the woman some brandy!

"It is new to me in the annals of crime. If our ex-missionary friends escape the clutches of Lestrade, I shall expect to hear of some brilliant incidents in their future career.”

Super weird note to end on. But I guess hurrah she lived... for however long before the combined liver and kidney failure killed her. But she wasn't dead when they left her, and that's the important thing!

And our villains may or may not escape. Shlessinger's villains to join Shlessinger's Lady Frances, I guess. ACD can't have been making a Schrödinger reference because Schrödinger's cat wouldn't be thought up until decades after this story was published, but it's all very Schrödinger.

[hellenic-whore]

Had to draw a thing about organ transplants and trafficking. Took some notes about it too cause why not.

Did this partially because of the meat garden episode from the Magnus archives.

It was mostly about the middle east as it was for my middle eastern literature class, so yeah.

Notes and some interesting quotes are down below. The main source I used was "The Red Market:On the Trail of the World's Organ Brokers, Bone Thieves, Blood Farmers, and Child Traffickers" by Scott Carney.

If you want to read it yourself it's a pretty good book, you should be able to find a PDF of it pretty easily!

_____________________________________________________________

•Organ donors oftentimes are impoverished and sell their organs commercially to make money to feed themselves, afford rent etc.

•A migrant put the issue this way "If you cannot find work when you get to Egypt, you will not find mercy. This is why people sell their kidneys."

•In Egypt, an organ seller will receive 2000$ while a buyer will pay 2000$.

•Refugees are especially vulnerable to organ trafficking because of a lack of legal protection.

•People in underdeveloped countries often view their organs in the same way one might view social security or unemployment benefits- as a safety net.

•One woman who was, in essence, scammed out of her kidney, alleged a police complaint about the fraud. When the police attempted to arrest the broker for organ trading, the police also tried to arrest the donor for selling her kidney. The broker was let off with a warning.

• "Flesh... Moves up the social hierarchy, not down" (Carney 53)

•"In America, it is taboo to suggest US transplant centers are in the business of buying and selling organs. They're here to save lives." (Carney 56)

Stylized gore warning for all of you that are new to here.

Sources and the picture are under the cut.

Here are my sources in big fancy mla format cause why not

___________________________________________________________

Carney, Scott. The Red Market: On the Trail of the World’s Organ Brokers, Bone Thieves, Blood Farmers, and Child Traffickers. William Morrow, 2022.

“Human Trafficking and Trauma in the Digital Era.” Google Books, Google, books.google.com/books?hl=en&amp;lr=&amp;id=2PtWEAAAQBAJ&amp;oi=fnd&amp;pg=PA159&amp;dq=organ%2Btrafficking%2Brefugee&amp;ots=D-PcbX-U0k&amp;sig=2Fv19I115KGwnpgjAHCaq_LAIO4#v=onepage&amp;q=organ%20trafficking%20refugee&amp;f=false. Accessed 13 Dec. 2023.

Lesniewski, Matthew James. “Monitoring Human Trafficking in Displaced Populations.” eTD Explore, 1 Jan. 1970, etda.libraries.psu.edu/catalog/21347.

“Organ Trafficking in Egypt: ’they Locked Me in and Took My Kidney.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 9 Feb. 2019, www.theguardian.com/global-development/2019/feb/09/trafficking-people-smugglers-organs-egypt-mediterranean-refugees-migrants.

Osmandzikovic, Emina. “How Conflicts Turned the Middle East into an Organ-Trafficking Hotspot.” Arab News, 10 July 2020, www.arabnews.com/node/1701871/middle-east#:~:text=The%20protracted%20conflict%20in%20Syria,the%20region’s%20red%20market%20hotspots.

[aaronburrdaily]

October 26, 1809

Sat up till 1 last evening, being a little out of humor with one Gamp; made some pious resolutions. Rose at 7. At 10 to leave a card for the French minister, Mon. Didelot; in the country, not having yet returned to town. Perhaps I have not told you that the Commandant at Elsinore retained Engerström's letter to Didelot. He said he was expressly bound by his orders to do so. I learned yesterday that the letter had been delivered. All letters coming in or going out must be examined by the police. I went there (to the police-office) yesterday with my letter for Hauterive, which was examined and sealed with their seal, which is a warrant to the postmaster to receive and forward it. My letter being in English, and written stylographically, was not very legible, as you know. Yesterday, too, I went with Hendrick to the museum, of which more another time. Paid for the party 3 dollars. Remember, when dollars are mentioned in Denmark, it means the paper dollar, as before explained. At 3 went to de Coningk's to dine. Found there the son heretofore mentioned; a very sensible and well-bred man, speaking perfectly well French and English; his wife ditto; her sister; two daughters of Professor Puerari, Genevois,¹ a man of very prepossessing manners and appearance. The dinner good and abundant. No troublesome stiffness or forms. All rose at once. After coffee and tea, home at 7. Had scarcely got home before Hosack and Robinson came in. I was, indeed, very glad to see them. You may recollect that we parted on the 2d of October. They brought me a letter from Lüning; a most affectionate letter, but something more; enclosing a draught on his correspondent at Hamburg for 1,000 marks! Did you ever hear of anything to equal this except in novels? I am quite embarrassed what to do.² In the evening, to my great surprise, and uninvited, tapped gently at my door Tempe. You know I never disappoint people if I can help it and so T. was not dismissed; 4 rix dollars. With great trepidation I opened the picture on Sunday morning. It has suffered no injury. It hangs in my room; but I am quite out of humour that my visitors have expressed only commonplace admiration. La jeune M'lle de Coningk has expressed a desire to see it, and thither you go to-morrow.

1 For Génevois. Genevese. 2 Lüning's letter, under date of October 21, 1809, was as follows: "I take the liberty to send you the enclosed letter, at the producing of which Mr. H. Bauer will pay you 1,000 marks, Hamburg currency, which you will please reimburse when you arrive in England or America. I cannot tell you how much I am thankful to Providence for having given me the pleasure to get acquainted with a man whom I admired long ago. I esteemed you before; now I love you."

[whereisalicedotcom]

Where do you suppose they dock those big police blimps..? Oh! Good morrow, dear Hare ! I love you!

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"MAGISTRATE HAS HOPE FOR YOUNG ROBBERS," Toronto Star. August 3, 1934. Page 12. ---- Thinks They May Yet Tum Out To Be Good Citizens ---- Three youths, Stanley Lockock, Julius Cascone and Robert Atherky, appeared before Magistrate Brown in police court on two charges of stealing gasoline from service stations in Orillia.

They were sentenced to one year in the reformatory on charges of auto theft, by Magistrate Jones earlier in the week.

"I don't like to add to that sentence." commented the bench. "These boys may yet make good citizens."

He remanded them for sentence on the Orillia charges to which all pleaded guilty.

Michael O'Shea, alleged former member of the Toronto police force, and Cyril O'Reilly, were each remanded to Aug. 10 on charges of conducting a lottery.

Stole Milk Tickets Fred Jackson, 30, was remanded for sentence to Aug. 10. after he was convicted of stealing $45 in cash and $60 worth of milk tickets from Robert McMillan, Carlton st., whom he admitted was a former friend.

McMillan charged that Jackson had come to visit him and after he left the tickets and money were missing.

As Mrs. McMillan told a similar story accused asked permission to ask her questions.

"Didn't you ask me to go with you to find your husband who had been drinking all night?" he asked.

Witness denied the statement.

"Didn't you go with me to a hotel and didn't you stay there with me until 10 o'clock at night?" he persisted.

"I did not," the woman replied.

"Don't try to blacken these people," said the magistrate.

Jackson declared he had been at a downtown hotel accompanied by three women on the night he allegedly stole the money from the husband of one of them.

He declared he was married and had two children. His own wife was not in the party, he stated.

"Apparently you're not doing the right thing by your own family," commented Magistrate Browne.

Jackson nodded his head in agreement.

He admitted he had taken the cash but denied knowledge of the missing milk tickets.

John Tompkins pleaded guilty te being drunk last night, when he appeared before Magistrate Robert J. Browne in early men's police court to-day.

"I was drunk all right, but why they have to take you to the station and beat you up, I'd like to know," he said, when asked to plead.

Magistrate Browne remanded him until to-morrow, to await further information.

Robert Laurie and Michael McManus were each fined $50 or one month when convicted on drunk charges.

Joseph Murphy pleaded not guilty to a drunk charge but he was found guilty and fined $10 or 10 days.

John Strand and Squire Glen were also assessed $10 or 10 days when convicted of being drunk last night.

Remands were given to Norman Maiden, Frank Reid, Harry Mars, James Barson and Thomas O'Neil on drunk charges. All were first offenders.

Hit Police Cruiser As a result of a report received by police that a car had been drives over the sidewalk on Church St. en July 25, Joseph Brown was pursues in a police cruiser and arrested on College St.

This morning he appeared in traffic and liquor court charged with reckless driving.

P. C. Coathus said: "Brown ran into the right front fender of the police cruiser causing around damage."

"$20 or 30 days with permit cancelled for 10 days," pronounced Magistrate Tinker.

Testifying in the case of Wm. Willison, accused of reckless driving, P.C. McGregor said: "The accused man attempted to pass northbound traffic on Yonge St. and collided with a southbound car. At the same time he struck the car right behind him, causing $100 damage." The driver of the damaged car stated Willison had agreed to make reparation.

A fine of $30 or 30 days and ten days' imprisonment was imposed.

Richard Tomlinson, a truck farmer, charged with B.L.C.A.. pleaded that police had mistaken the smell of garlic for beer, but he was assessed $20 or ten days.

Wm. Donaghue and his wife were haled into court for permitting drunkenness this morning and the husband was fined $25 or 30 days.

"His foot may have slipped, but a well-directed penalty may put him right," said Magistrate Tinker in response to L. O'Connor's plea for leniency for his client, Wm. Farrell. accused of B.L.C.A.

P.C. Lee testified he and P.C. Forbes found accused and three others drinking beer in a house on Dundas St. W.

Farrell was fined $15 or 30 days.

Alwynne E. Thompson, husband of Mrs. Viola Thompson, whose body was found behind a lilac bush on Blythwood Rd., last month, was remanded to August 10, on a charge of per

jury, for which he has been in prison since a woman reported to police that Thompson had taken out a license to marry her. Thompson was held in the cells till his name was called from the list. He walked up the steps slowly, and stared about as his counsel.

T. B. Horkins, asked for remand. No bail was granted.

[bookoformon]

Ether 15: 20-23. "The Gagbag."

God threatens to abandon the earth because the Innocent have no way of prevailing against the Shitty People. Perhaps we could convince him to just leave His suitcase by the door since the Party has rejected Donald Trump as of this morning:

Republicans Tell Supreme Court to Rule Against Donald Trump (msn.com)

There is amazing potential in this headline, but it is one half of a step the world needs to repent of its thinking to put the old dog back on the campaign trail to begin with. How do we graduate from a nation that put a revenging terror mongering pedophile in the White House and then wantonly tried to do it again? How can we plug this hole in our hearts?

Especially after what we Americans did to Israel on October 7, and then tried to blame them for it? Anyone who has seen white people and their kids with spray tan on them hanging out in Gaza with its weapons filled shelves, or who witnessed that rogue cargo ship try to launch that Russian nuclear torpedo at us in Baltimore knows American politics need a significant overhaul. All of this and more happened because of Donald Trump and who and how he and is. And he was clearly not alone.

Disavowing this man is a good thing to do, but it doesn't give us even a crumb of the reassurances we need that the Government is on top of things around here, or that people in America are looking to turn over a new leaf. In other words, this was not a good fight.

All someone had to do was tell the country Donald Trump was not fit to hold the office of President due to his long list of Capital Crimes, please choose another candidate, thanks. But that highly moral decision did not make it to the microphone. The Department of Justice, the FBI, the Secret Service and the CIA slept on their swords and now there are lamentations being heard throughout the world. That sword is still needed:

20 And it came to pass that they fought all that day, and when the night came they slept upon their swords.

21 And on the morrow they fought even until the night came.

22 And when the night came they were drunken with anger, even as a man who is drunken with wine; and they slept again upon their swords.

23 And on the morrow they fought again; and when the night came they had all fallen by the sword save it were fifty and two of the people of Coriantumr, and sixty and nine of the people of Shiz.

Justice is supposed to be an insomniac. It must not sleep. When I saw Josh Hawley, Mitt Romney, Mike Pompeo, Rick Perry, Steve Miller, Mike Pence, Geoff Tunicliffe, and all those gay prostitutes from Capitol Hill sexing all those little boys and Steve Bannon schcrewing a little girl and told the police, Justice slept. Then these same persons engaged in a major terrorist attack on Israel. Yes, it was them we are lying to the world about this, but it was them, not a bunch of fleabitten Muslims with a mad hard on against Israel.

But it wasn't Muslims, it was the Mormons. Even as we are finding hundreds if not thousands of Mormon terror tunnels all over America, Europre, Israel and the Middle East, we are trying to propagandize this against Jewish people, who have never done anything to injure mankind, not even once.

The same thing happened with our handling of Ukraine. We have been able to beat the Russians in short order for decades. Everyone calls the Russian military a meat grinder, well no one has seen our Armed Forces at work. The US Military has weapons that could tear through their Russian adversaries like they are tissue paper.

Desert Storm was a conflict of great importance to the world and we ended by slaughtering almost every soldider Sadam Hussein possessed in thirty eight days. This thing in Ukraine has been dragging on for years and now the ice caps are melting and the world is about to drown.

I harp on this every day, but we are all asleep and we have to wake up. The Prophet says until with is unjust and impure in the world is gone, you fight noon and night. He says getting drunk on war is like getting drunk on wine when the cause is just. The beauty of war is it is supposed to be non-bureaucratic- you can do what it takes to win if the effort is right, if one is on the side of the angels. We have said that we are, now where is the effort?

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 20: They slept on their swords. What a waste of a good hard boner. The Number is 6200, ו‎בק‎‎, and beck, "the paste." The paste comes at the end after all the preparations are done. Preparation of pastes which contains no chunks must be very thorough.

v. 21: And on the morrow they fought even until the night came.

The Number is 3757, גזה‎‎ז‎, Gaza= a place of strength for those in need. That's not a word I would use for Gaza or America at this time. We have no strength of character in this country, we are lost. We have allowed the willy nillies to take over and harm innocent people by illegally banning abortions, and we did not even look back.

v. 22: And then the night came.

The Number is 11323, יאגב‎‎ג‎, jagbeg, "the gagbag." The Gagabag refers to the Seven Noachide Laws which precede the Ten Commandments. They were written as a result of the Great Flood. Nighttime in the Torah is decision time. The Seven Noachide Laws were written to provide decisive moral guidelines for society in order to prevent moral decay and another flood, AKA a World War.

The 7 Noahide Laws are rules that all of us must keep, regardless of who we are or from where we come. Without these seven things, it would be impossible for humanity to live together in harmony.

Do not profane G‑d’s Oneness in any way. Acknowledge that there is a single G‑d who cares about what we are doing and desires that we take care of His world.

Do not curse your Creator. No matter how angry you may be, do not take it out verbally against your Creator.

Do not murder. The value of human life cannot be measured. To destroy a single human life is to destroy the entire world—because, for that person, the world has ceased to exist. It follows that by sustaining a single human life, you are sustaining an entire universe.

Do not eat a limb of a still-living animal. Respect the life of all G‑d’s creatures. As intelligent beings, we have a duty not to cause undue pain to other creatures.

Do not steal. Whatever benefits you receive in this world, make sure that none of them are at the unfair expense of someone else.

Harness and channel the human libido. Incest, adultery, rape and homosexual relations are forbidden. The family unit is the foundation of human society. Sexuality is the fountain of life and so nothing is more holy than the sexual act. So, too, when abused, nothing can be more debasing and destructive to the human being.

Establish courts of law and ensure justice in our world. With every small act of justice, we are restoring harmony to our world, synchronizing it with a supernal order. That is why we must keep the laws established by our government for the country’s stability and harmony.

These laws were communicated by G‑d to Adam and Noah, ancestors of all human beings. That is what makes these rules universal, for all times, places and people:

Laws made by humans may change according to circumstance. But laws made by the Creator of all souls over all of time remain the same for all people at all times.

v. 23: And on the morrow they fought again; and when the night came they had all fallen by the sword save it were fifty and two of the people of Coriantumr, and sixty and nine of the people of Shiz.

The Numbers say 52 innocent persons died in the war but the Shitty People lost 69.

Fifty and two of the people of Coriantumr= 2634, בוגד‎ ‎‎"A traitor" +

Sixty and nine of the people of Shiz= 2070, לזי‎‎, lezi, "easy."

The Number is 12636, יבו‎גו‎ ‎, yabogo, "They will die."

Killing a traitor is easy. Moral people stay so God will love us again, but the shitty people have to leave. The persons responsible for the corruption in this world who are making mockeries of the Seven Noachide Laws must be put down. This is the Word of the Lord and if we value our lives, we will do what He says. Mankind simply must accept these laws without exceptions. They are the essence of the practice of politics and religion alike and keep us safe from all harm.

[deadman-walken]

I watch as the water mixes with the blood washing off my body, spiraling down the drain to never be seen again. Everything that I did afterwards was a direct result of no longer existing. I was a next level cleaner. Of course I had to be, I couldn’t leave my messes for someone else to take care of. That’s where mistakes happen. 

“FUCKKKKKKKKKKKK…”

My forehead fell against the soaked tile wall and I let the water finish its job by rinsing the night's affairs away, but only physically. Mentally was a whole other thing. Put a smile on, do a good job and keep everything surface level. 

I heard my fathers voice more often than I did my own, and he’d been gone from this earth for more than ten years now. It wouldn’t matter how long, his lessons had been drilled into me the minute I was cut out of my mother. 

I was saved from any more tortuous thoughts by the ringing of my phone belting out ‘Crazy Sexy Cool by TLC’ which was the tone designated to my cousin, Kris. I made quick work of getting out of the shower, grabbing a towel and draping it around my waist. It was still beating off the base when I finally snatched it off my bedside table.

“Speak or forever hold your breath, I’m dripping a lake on my wooden floors right now.”

I heard a snort and then laughter on the other end.

‘It’s not my fault that you don’t know how to carry your phone with you.’

I was rolling my eyes before she finished that sentence. Kris always said the same thing. I hated having my phone attached to me at all times, and she knew it.

“When they force us to take a shot up the ass and inject us with tracers, I will then keep an electronic device on me.”

‘HaHaHa…Maybe this is why you are single. You barely have your phone with you to receive and answer properly to calls or messages. Just food for thought.’

“And what is your reason for being single, since you have some form of phone/tablet/watch or anything with you at all times?”

Okay I am sure I heard a slight growl come through the line this time. That had me smiling in victory.

‘Meanie…anyway what are you doing tomorrow?’

I thought for a moment, it was Saturday night, I had taken care of the majority of what I needed to, and being busy tomorrow would be good for me.

“Nothing, I’m open for anything that’s legal.”

With Kris that needed to be added in, I’ve ended up behind bars or in the back of a police car a couple times because of my cousin, and I would do it again. I don’t have a large family, the ones I have I keep close to me, that includes the ones that weren’t blood but had become family along the way.

‘Perfect, wear work clothes, something you don’t mind getting trashed and I will be there to pick you up around noon.’

Questions and warning signs went off in my head but for now I didn’t have the mental capacity to ask or even broach the subject of what the fuck. Instead I just said. 

“Sounds good, I will see you then.”

‘Are you okay, Lenx?’

I could answer honestly but then that would have me with nighttime visitors that wouldn’t leave and right now I couldn’t handle being around another.

“Yes, I finished digging the trench and then went and poured the footers for Monday's job. I need my pupper cuddles, my bed and hours on hours of sleep.”

There was about forty seconds of silence before Kris finally answered, obviously appeased by my answer.

‘Okay, hug the little flea bag tight and I will see you on the morrow.’

The line went dead and suddenly I felt the exact same, giving into the exhaustion I literally fell into my bed that I had been standing by, soaking wet and all. I dropped the towel to the floor and slid under the blankets pulling them up over my head. It was right on cue that my little monster jumped on the mattress burrowed under the covers, curling up tight against my chest so I could feel his tiny heated fur ball against me.

[marjaystuff]

Interview with Karin Slaughter

After That Night

Will Trent Thriller book 11

Karin Slaughter

William Morrow Pub

August 22nd, 2023

After That Night by Karin Slaughter is typical of her books.  She intertwines a fascinating thriller with a very important relevant subject matter, drawing readers into the story from page one.

Fifteen years ago, Sara Linton’s life changed forever when she was violently assaulted and raped. With a strong support system, she became a successful doctor and is now engaged to Detective Will Trent, a man she dearly loves. She has tried to put her past behind her. But one evening changes everything.  

She is now working at Atlanta’s Grady Memorial Hospital when 19-year-old Dani Cooper is admitted with fatal injuries from a car accident. Sara recognizes signs of rape, which Dani confirms with her dying breaths. Having been raped herself 15 years earlier, Sara vows to bring Dani’s assailant to justice.

Fast forward three years and Sara is now testifying in court against Thomas Michael McAllister IV.  He is the son of two of Sara’s former medical school peers, pediatric surgeon Mac McAllister and his wife, Britt. Even more surprisingly, Britt McAllister, when Sara encounters her in the courthouse restroom, smugly informs her, “What happened to you. What happened to Dani. It’s all connected.” Sara decides to tell Will and his partner Faith and works with them to take down the bad guys.

As with all her books the story is riveting and touches on important subjects of the day. Slaughter not only shows readers the effect that rape has on victims but shows how predators get away with it. It is gripping and shocking from the very first page.  This book had a nice number of twists, turns and revelations. There are plenty of little quips, bickering, and witty banter sprinkled throughout to ease some of the tension of the story. 

Elise Cooper: How did you get the idea for this story?

Karin Slaughter:  I write about stuff I have seen going on in the world.  It was time to write more about what happened to Sara Linton, a character readers like. Now would be a good time to talk about where she is at. At my heart I am a thriller writer and that has always been my goal, to write thrillers.

EC: Can you talk about why that quote at the beginning of the book?

KS: You are referring to this one, “Remember to speak from the scar, not the wound.” It is from the trauma counseling community.  Those sexually assaulted should give themselves some distance.  It takes time to process, for a woman to get through it, to recognize and understand it, and to get to a point she can speak about it. 

EC:  This is like sex trafficking?

KS:  Sex trafficking is a good corollary.  There was this movie, “Sound of Freedom,” made about it. One of the main investors was just arrested in sex trafficking.  People put themselves in the spotlight as advocates for children and women as they speak about family values but are using it to hide their true selves.  They have an “alibi” if ever accused because they appear to be such a supportive person.  It is the same way for rape where a lot of men hide in plain sight. My point is that a predator is not someone who can be easily spotted. 

EC: There is a scene in the book where Sara says she is not sure how she should feel:  Outrage, matter of fact, emotional, or devoid of emotion.  Please explain. 

KS:  Sara is talking about how as a victim she also must manage others’ feelings around rape. It is true that this is one of the few crimes where society puts value judgements, especially other women. I think these women are not nasty, but fearful. Every woman has lived with this fear that they could possibly be raped. The fact is rape can happen no matter what a woman does. Women should not be saying ‘she should not have worn that or done this.’ 

EC:  There is a statistic in the story that fewer than 1% of rapes lead to a felony conviction. Please explain.

KS: A lot of police are driven by numbers.  They do not prioritize cases. Sometimes they ignore the cases because maybe the victim was a prostitute.  Once again, it is a judgement call. Sara feels this weight to suppress her own emotions and help others in the story work their way through what happened to them. Everyone thinks the system works until they are in the system. Rape consistently gets pleaded down to a lesser offense, so men are not put on a sex offender registry. 

EC:  How did the rape affect Sara?

KS:  I openly write about her rape since book 1, Blindsighted, and how it affected her life. Sara feels however people responded to being rape is how they should respond. She managed to rebuild her life including falling in love with a man and to be able to trust him.  She did have her family as a support structure. 

EC:  What about the relationship between Will and Sara?

KS: I have this quote in the book about her relationship with Will, “This is the miracle of her recovery.  She trusted with every fiber of her being that he will always be there. He can pick up her moods.” This is one of the strongest parts of Will’s character that he is intensely loyal. He always has Sara’s back and is very supportive.

EC:  How would you describe Britt, one of Sara’s medical school peers?

KS:  She is a ‘pick me.’  She always is talking about how she does not get along with other women, but the fact is other women do not like her. She will always choose a man over her women friends no matter what.  She has no identity outside of a man. She identifies herself only as being the wife of this powerful man. All her self-worth and power come from the fact that she is married to Mac, a top surgeon. She wants to be the cool girl, one of the guys. It is a sad way to live. She is spiteful, insecure, and bitter. 

EC:  How would you describe Mac, Britt’s husband, who was also a medical school peer of Sara?

KS:  He is a control freak. This is not a bad thing considering he is a surgeon. He needs to pay attention to the important details. 

EC:  How would you define the rapist?

KS:  He uses coercion, control, brainwashes, and false imprisons his victims. He uses charm in the beginning, the brain washing part. He does not show all women that part of himself but only the victims are showed this part of his personality. All this work is put into being the thing that they are not.

EC:  Are all the rape victims in the story similar?

KS:  Sara later talks with Sloan, another medical school peer who was raped. There were different women from different walks of life. They had different ways they chose to deal with it. There is no one way to recover. Sometimes the police have a hand in it also.  When a woman files a complaint there are some who say ‘I do not believe you and I will arrest you for filing a false complaint. I am not going to investigate.’ I wanted to show how all these women had different responses and different outcomes. 

EC:  Next book?

KS:  It will be another Sara and Will story. I am working on it now. It will be out next year this time.

EC:  What about the TV series on ABC?

KS:  I hope people are enjoying it. There will be a second season out when the strike is over. I look forward to the series continuing. 

THANK YOU!!

[visplay]

Chris: Malum is an Italian / US remake of the horror film, Last Shift, I guess that this was made in order to provide a deeper backstory, it was not as good as the original, only recommended for those who loved the original film and have time to see a less than good remake, Watch: On Subscription Service.

Richie: It wasn’t bad but it wasn’t as good as the original, Watch: When Free.