#my baby bread.. my war criminal

[renesassing]

throws some semi-old sketches at y'all as proof of life

[fdelopera]

Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, borei p’ri hagafen.

Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’ratza vanu, v’shabbat kod’sho b’ahava uv’ratzon hinchilanu, zikaron l’ma’aseh b’reishit. Ki hu yom t’chila l’mikra-ay kodesh, zaycher l’tziat mitzrayim. Ki vanu vacharta v’otanu kidashta mikol ha’amim. V’shabbat kod-shi-cha b’ahava uv’ratzon hinchal tanu. Baruch ata Adonai, mi’kadesh ha Shabbat.

(Blessed are you, Lord our G-d, Ruler of the Universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.

Blessed are you, Lord our G-d, Ruler of the Universe, how has sanctified us with his commandments and favored us, and given us in love and favor his holy Shabbat as an inheritance, as a remembrance of the act of creation. For this day is the beginning of all holy days, a remembrance of the Exodus from Egypt. For you have chosen us and you have blessed us from among all the nations. And you have bequeathed us your holy Shabbat in love and favor. Blessed are you, Lord, who sanctifies Shabbat.)

.

Feel this, to all those races, colors, and creeds, every man bleeds

For the countless victims and all the families of the murdered, tortured, enslaved

Raped, robbed and persecuted — Never Again

To the men, women, and children who died in their struggle to live

Never to be forgotten, Reuven Ben Menachem, yo…

.

My own blood dragged through the mud

Perished in my heart, still cherished and loved

Stripped of our pride, everything we lived for

Families cried, there's nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide

Tossed to the side, access denied

6 million died, for what?

.

Yo, a man shot dead in his back

Helpless women and children under constant attack

For no reason 'til the next season and we still bleeding

Yo it's freezing and men burn in Hell, some for squeezing

No hope for a remedy, nothing to believe

Moving targets who walk with the star on their sleeve

Forever marked with a number tattooed to your body

Late night, eyes closed, clutched to my shotty

Having visions, flashes of death camps and prisons

No provisions, deceived by the Devil's decisions

Forced into a slave, death before dishonor

For those men who were brave, shot and sent to their grave

Can't awaken, it's too late, everything's been taken

I'm shaken, family, history in the making

.

Never again shall we march like sheep to the slaughter

Never again shall we sit and take orders

Stripped of our culture, robbed of our name

Raped of our freedom and thrown into the flames

Forced from our families, taken from our homes

Removed from our G-d then burned of our bones

Never again, never again, shall we march like sheep to the slaughter

Never again leave our sons and daughters

Stripped of our culture, robbed of our name

(Never again) Raped of our freedom and thrown into the flames

Forced from our families, taken from our homes

Removed from our G-d and everything we own (Never again)

.

Some fled through the rumors of wars

But most left for dead, few escaped to the shores

With just one loaf of bread, banished

Called in for questioning and vanished, never to be seen again

I can't express the pain, that was felt in the train

To Auschwitz, tears poured down like rain

Naked, face to face with the master race

Hatred, blood, and David, my heart belongs to God and stays sacred

Rabbis and priests, disabled individuals

The poor, the scholars — all labeled common criminals

Mass extermination, total annihilation

Shipped into the ghetto and prepared for liquidation

Tortured and starved, innocent experiments

Stripped down and carved up or gassed to death

The last hour, I smelled the flowers

Flashbacks of family then sent to the showers

Powerless, undressed, women with babies clumped tight to their chest — crying

Who would've guessed — dying

Another life lost, count the cost

Another body gas-burned and tossed in the Holocaust

.

Never again shall we march like sheep to the slaughter

Never again leave our sons and daughters

Stripped of our culture, robbed of our name

Raped of our freedom and thrown into the flames

Forced from our families, taken from our homes

Removed from our G-d and everything we own

Never again, never again, shall we march like sheep to the slaughter

Never again shall we sit and take orders

Stripped of our culture, robbed of our name

(Never again) Raped of our freedom and thrown into the flames

Forced from our families, taken from our homes

Removed from our G-d then burned of our bones (Never again)

.

Never Again. Never Again.

.

From the USA to Afghanistan

From Israel to Pakistan

From Iraq to Iran

To Russia, Poland, and France

From China over to Japan

Worldwide

Never Again

.

Shema Yisrael Adonai eloheinu Adonai ehad

(“Hear O Yisrael, the Lord is our G-d, the Lord is One.” The Shema is the most important prayer in Judaism. It is the declaration of our faith in one G-d. Jews say the Shema prayer every day, in the morning and evening. And we also say the Shema before we die.)

FIRE!

*GUNSHOT*

[reynita9]

I can’t stop thinking about how Cocomelon is damaging babies because the fast pace scene changes can “interfere with the development of executive functions”, and how thin parents are spread in capitalism that they rely on television to entertain/keep their babies company just so they have some time to complete domestic tasks. I am thinking about disintegrated Community Care/structure. I am thinking about how Instagram, Tiktok, Twitter, Tumblr, all media are engineered to be addictive and alter the executive functioning of kids, tweens, teens, and adults of all ages. How malleable our minds are..bread and circuses. Everything we consume has the power to heal or destroy us. I think about Congress Bill 686, and feel discouraged and powerless. You may have heard of it as “The TikTok Ban” of course, the media intentionally oversimplifies it as a ban on TikTok, but really it is the means for The State to restrict the sharing of information on the internet and to censor us, keep us misinformed and suppressed. The State knows that knowledge is power so they keep us intentionally in the dark and distracted, plucking away human rights one by one while we are watching the stage. The Restrict Act would require the Department of Commerce to “identify, deter, disrupt, prevent, prohibit, investigate, and mitigate transactions involving ICT products and services” 🤳🏼👁️ (ICT means Information and Communications Technology, ICT Products and services refers to social media) When COVID first hit, my friend said “this will be like 9/11, there was the world pre 9/11 and post 9/11” I am not one to believe we are “post-covid” because we are still in the grips of the Covidian information wars, which I feel will be one of the main long term take aways from The-Covid-Years. Bill 686 harms all, because any group of 1 million people organizing or sharing information online can be persecuted, banned and shut down under the guise of “prohibiting certain transactions between persons of the United States and foreign adversaries” Congress Bill 686 establishes both civil and criminal penalties for violations of the bill, meaning anything that they consider an “unacceptable risk to national security.” Please don’t forget we live in a police state which is meant to protect the empire. In The United States privacy is not sacrosanct, and actually American big brother corporations like Meta and Google are investing millions into anti-TikTok propaganda, because it clears their competition and allows them back into the palms of citizens, so they can personally be the ones to steal our time and data. It makes me angry, it’s painful. How can we organize against the faceless enemy? It’s all subversion and censorship, anything to get the undiluted power to be placed back into the hands of an American corporation. It will always be The State, Corporations, and Colleges keeping information tucked away and inaccessible to the masses. We must do what we can to preserve the internet as a place of free information sharing and connection. The infrastructure of our communities in real life are generally weak. Weekly I hit a paywall online, and I have seen my own words be instantaneously given an AI generated COVID misinformation banner before. It’s insane, and most people are not comfortable admitting out loud that we are alive during fascism. What’s funny in a way is, I have long hated TikTok, but now that it risks being banned in this “land of the free” I find myself urgently realizing how important it is to preserve and protect.. It is on the individual to use the internet wisely and with boundaries, not the state to restrict people’s access to information. Privacy is important and data-preservation is important, obviously, but if this is what 686 was truly about, we would be having different conversations. All legislation is created to build a precedent.

[wen-kexing-apologist]

10 Characters and 10 Fandoms

I was hoping this day would not come. I had hoped I would fly free and clear from having to choose between all the people trapped in my television. But alas...I can avoid it no longer...thanks @lurkingshan

Cause here is the thing, when I think of what drives me batshit, crawling up the wall, tearing at the curtains it is not the characters but the dynamics that I love and cherish.

Rules: name 10 of your favourite characters from 10 different fandoms, then tag 10 people to do the same.

So I guess, without further ado, and in no particular order, here are 10 of my faves and why

Wen Kexing - Word of Honor

I mean...this one seems pretty obvious (coughs in username) but this is my dumb slut, okay? He's beauty, he's grace, he's got Zhou Zishu Derangement Syndrome harder than anyone.

Wen Kexing, how do I love you? Let me count the ways:

Unhinged

Fashion Icon

Crazy Bastard Man

Yi Baiyi's Number One Nuisance

Gay As Hell

And most importantly HE HAS NEVER DONE ANYTHING WRONG IN HIS LIFE.

Not Once. Not Ever.

Akk - The Eclipse

Oh Akk, my favorite little war criminal. If I had to pick one single favorite character, it's my boy.

Can't put my finger on why but for some reason I am obsessed with this emotionally repressed gay boy who has difficulty accepting himself and feels pressured to perform actions far outside what a teenager should be allowed to do because adults put pressure on him and because he doesn't want people to be disappointed in him...

Unlike Wen Kexing, Akk has done many things wrong, but he's my sweet cheese, good time boy, and he deserves to be harassed by his rat bastard boyfriend at all times. He's learned, he's grown, he's free of Suppalo and I want nothing but the best for him forever and alwas.

Jim Jimenez - Our Flag Means Death

Ohhhhh Jim. The Swagger, The Sex Appeal, The Being The Only Competent Member of Stede's Crew. I mean, what is not to love about The Orphan Raised By Nun Grandmother To Be a Killer?

As a fellow Studier Of The Blade, I would welcome the chance to let Jim kill me. Besides the fact they would lay waste to many, as an enby, they automatically earn a spot in my favs list.

Guillermo de la Cruz - What We Do In The Shadows

Tumblr Users, name a sexier character that Guillermo de la Cruz. That's right! YOU CAN'T!

Gay, serial killer...mmm you know what I'm beginning to sense a trend in my favs list...

eh, we can unpack that later!

My lovely, bumbling, dumbass with posession of the only brain cell in the household. So bright and smiley in the beginning you almost forget that he is 10 years in to literally hunting people to feed to his best friends/mortal enemies/family/tormenters/employers/bumbling idiots that stole him away from Panera Bread. There is no greater personification of the Duality of Man than the man who can lay waste to an entire theatre full of vampires and also spending literal hours closing every possible loophole in Nandor's Dick Length Wish. No greater personification of the Duality of Man than the man who can best Nandor in a gay little fight, and then immediately get pushed into a coffin and shipped to England.

Keyleth - Critical Role

My beloved, all powerful awkward disaster of a Druid. Keyleth helped me through some difficult fucking parts of my life, and I really appreciate how heavily Marisha allowed Keyleth to embrace and exert her anger where it needed to be released. I love how Keyleth can both bring a building down with her bare hands (literally) and turn into a goldfish and splatter along the rocks (also literally)

I love when character who are hurt or in pain or grieving continue to be kind, and I love when that composure starts to slip.

Ellie Williams - The Last of Us

I love my baby dyke with all my heart. She's a killer, she's a track star, she makes grown men weep and young kids laugh. She's immune from being mushroomified, and she horrifies Joel's Southern Table Manner Sensibilities. What more can you ask for out of a character?

Tankhun Theerapanyakul- KinnPorsche

Serves cunt.

Kaz Brekkar - Six of Crows

Kaz Brekkar is the walking contradiction, and that is why I love him.

Kaz, External Monologue: murder. murder. crime. crime. heist. heist. fuck pekka.

Kaz, Internal Monologue: Inej. Inej. Inej. Inej. Inej. Inej. Inej.

There is just something so juicy about a character who yearns desperately to touch, to hold, to love and is physically incapable of doing so. Also like, shout out to having disabled characters in media of all forms

Raine Whispers - Owl House

Again, enby, therefore automatically on the fucking list. But also like. COME ON. Look at them. They are so precious, they are so awkward, and they are so badass. This motherfucker can't talk on a stage to save their life, but can lead a goddamn rebel organization?

ALSO LIKE, LET'S DISCUSS THE FUCKING WHISTLE AND THE MONTHS OF FAKING MIND CONTROL?!?!?!??!?! Y'all seriously want to sit here and not claim them as a fav? Okay, but couldn't be me :)

Zuko - Avatar: The Last Airbender

It's Zuko. Need I say more? I will never not love Zuko because I lived through his redemption arc live on my TV. I went from hating this motherfucker's guts to truly deeply loving him in real time and that's all I have to say on that. He's a runner, he's a track star, he's a war criminal, and a baby girl, and truly is the king of kings for doing one nice thing and nearly dying from fever about it.

Well, this has made me realize that most of my favs are gay murderers. Teehee. Please never make me choose my favorite characters again.

If someone tags me in one of these, ask me to do my Top 10 Character Dynamics, please I beg you!!!!1

Tagging:

@bengiyo , @shortpplfedup , @kyr-kun-chan , @moonspiritmars

[grumpy-zane]

(9I need to put this down before I forget it

Ray and Maya doing mail delivery nearing the end of the war. Just passing out letters to towns that's saying 'hey wars is over ! expect people to come home soon!'

They get jumped and tied up to a tree. Ray is about to retaliate and shoot fire from his mouth but the captor shoves a loaf of bread in his mouth.

Said captor starts rummaging through their letters and Maya snaps at him that he's doing a crime and that Chen is gone and stuff- The guy doesn't care about that he's very much so was not on any side of the war. He mind is elsewhere as evident by his rambling through his face covering about how excited he is to be a dad, catching them both by surprise. 'So I need some advice on baby names. How does Junior sound? I think it'll work great! Ugh but Mary, she's real tough to budge you know? She wants to name our Kid 'Dareth', what kind of name is that? I mean, that's the name you give someone who's gonna be launched outta cannons for a living!.. Actually, that sounds pretty cool...' And while he's rambling he's delicately unsealing letters and reading them, resealing them perfectly and putting them back.

Ray can't say anything, he has bread in his mouth, but he and Maya exchange looks of utter speechlessness.

'Say you two think its okay if I set up camp here for tonight? Seeing that you're already having some of my meal. Either of you allergic to plums and fish?'

Maya keeps asking him questions and he keeps giving half-nothing answers until he finally admits that he's just trying to make sure that some of his fences are getting to the right spots. Maya reiterates that he's doing criminal things and that they are EMs and he's once again thinking about baby names. He cooks them a meal and cuts them loose and runs off into the woods.

The encounter is jarring and leaves them perplexed. Not often have they ran into thieves who leave an apology meal. ))

[fyodior]

Hi, my favorite thigh humpers it's me 🪱 again. omg, two asks back to back? and not literally three months apart? guys therapy is working. actually, I haven't had a therapy appointment in three months! not because I don't need it but because I keep forgetting 🥰 also Flora I know you're busy and need time to go through your inbox and reply so don't worry about getting back to me!

anyways do you guys like fictional war criminals' cocks? I bet you do! (if not why tf are you on this blog 😭 ) Well boy do I have the thing for you! unhinged HC about Fyodor featuring me describing his dick at random throughout the post.

-Fyodor is a regular customer buying body butter on Etsy, his favorite scent is sweet alpha musk.

-Fyodor only uses the towels he bought at a garage sale that has like the cupid babies embroidered on them and has "Love" sewn into them.

-Fyodor calls the stem of a grape the butt plug of nature.

-Fyodor won't admit it but all he wants to do is take a warm bath, while ABBA plays in the background.

-Fyodor once kidnapped a 4-year-old during the 2011 Olympics at 8:07pm in Shanghai China. He took to a restaurant because kids under the age of 10 get to eat for free and he lost his wallet while bike riding. The kid had tons of fun and Fyodor even got her a stuffed bear from the arcade. He is now on a watchlist. Fyodor's dick is a 6.9889 inches

-Fyodor has like ten pairs of shoes and each one of them is embroidered with FBGM, or Fuck Bitches Get Money. Nikola said it was an abbreviation of a famous passage in the bible. Fyodor is an idiot lmao anyways fuck bitches get money RAHH

-Fyodor likes to eat his bread rolls as if he's a starving victorian child. Sigma doesn't know if he doesn't because it's funny or if it's a trauma response. Fyodor's dick leans about 20 degrees to the right. \

-Fyodor likes talking and strolls through parks quite often :)

-Fyodor was a head campaign manager for Obama's re-election year! he also embezzled 100,000 USD from the US government.

-Fyodor dresses up all his pets in clothes every day. and on holidays he comes up with matching outfits

-Fyodor half the time doesn't know what he's doing when he's hacking, he kinda just presses random buttons and hopes he doesn't accidentally doesn't shut down some country's water system. He's smart enough to easily learn and pick up on patterns of code but is just too lazy some days. His dick is rather skinny but he knows how to use it

-Fyodor is a fan of Kafka's work so one day he decided to read letters to Milena, Fyodor no longer believes in love because know has ever told him that "in a way, you are like poetry material; you are full of cloudy subtitles I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out." lmao he literally was so dramatic afterward. Nikola complimented his outfit and he said: "if you don't tell me I am like poetry that you're willing to spend your life figuring out then don't fucking say anything."

-Fyodor may or may not have had a bbl. his tip is a light flush pink and the base is slightly tanner than the rest of his body not by much but it's noticeable enough.

-Fyodor thought S&M by Rihanna was about getting arrested. LMAO

-Fyodor one time had to go pee so bad he used a Gatorade bottle to pee in and left it on the side of the road that said: 'for those with a piss kink'

-Fyodor has fought an 11-year-old at Mc Donalds because, in their BTS meal, they got a Namjoon photocard. (they only did the photocard thing in Korea I think)

-Fyodor ran up two flights of stairs passed out and ended up taking care of some old lady's apartment while she traveled through Europe

-Fyodor can't pronounce the word pronounced. I want his cock shoved down my throat.

-Fyodor collects stickers but doesn't know what to stick them on too so now he has two drawers of stickers. his balls are about average darker than the rest, and he's well-trimmed.

-Fyodor has thought about marrying his hat, and having sex with it! he was on acid at this time.

welp, that's all for today, sorry if this was short, and also sorry if this is like spamming? again no need to answer me right away mwah

Sincerely your one and only fuckable hat

-🪱

literally no words there is nothing i could say to make this any better im just gonna sit here and cackle thank u so much

the random descriptions of his cock thrown in genuinely kill me

[missallanea-archive]

a not-so-brief, utterly useless guide to the muses on this blog:

UPDATED VERSION ( 08/10/23 )

AGNES DRACHINA REUBEN. first born daughter of the royal house of drachium. powerful sorceress who made a name for herself during the dragon campaign. a mischevious young woman with a penchant for drinking and getting into trouble.

BABYDOLL. institutionalized against her will. sweet girl but will not hesitate to end you if you're a creep. sincerely wishes to empower the other women around her. slowly losing herself to fantasy in order to escape from her unpleasant reality.

CARRIE WHITE. patron saint of the bullied. powerful telekinetic with religious trauma. generally a sweet kid, if not extremely shy and socially awkward. she honestly just needs a hug and a cheese sandwich.

CATIANA FREESPARK. swashbuckler rogue turned storm cleric. she's confused about how that happened too. died fairly recently, but she got better. will steal your shit. highkey feels like the divorce baby between procan and umberlee. 

CHROME DOKURO. a powerful illusionist currently in the employ of the vongola mafia family. occasionally shares her body with the criminal mukuro rokudo. learning to stand on her own two feet. a bit of a strange girl, but sweet and undyingly loyal.

FREYA. the once queen of asgard and leader of the valkyries. reclaimed her warrior spirit and found her wings. seeking to reunite and repair the realms following ragnarök. not a woman to scorn, or she will burn you to the ground and salt the earth behind her.

KAGAMI TSURUGI. a recent transplant to paris from japan. loves fencing and being right. she can be a bit cold upon first meeting but she's actually just very bad at making friends. if you take the time to get to know her, she is fiercely loyal and dedicated and will fight for you.

LIAN NICHANG. the white haired demoness. lives alone on a mountain. really only comes down to get rid of people who are harassing the village at the base of the mountain that leaves her the fuck alone. master swordsman. not actually a witch or a demon, no matter what people call her. 

LUNA. magical moon cat. has a crescent moon bald spot on her forehead. trying to keep the protectors of the universe on track but they're just teenage girls so it goes about as well as you would expect. really tired of being the voice of reason but this is what she signed up for. 

LUNASOL GALANODEL. honestly, the worst. burned down her abusive childhood home with her twin brother. basically sold her soul to the queen of air and darkness. pretends to be sweet but she is cruel and cold. typical elvish attitude toward other races, too. really, really likes flowers.

MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG. my god she is doing her best. normal girl turned superhero turned guardian of magical artifacts. just needs one day of peace ffs. currently going through a crisis due to teenage romance and also ptsd. always smells like fresh baked bread which is a plus. 

MAXIMILIAN CALYPSE. a small, stuttering lady of noble birth. married off to keep her father from having to go to war against dragons. considers herself to be useless and has a good deal of anxiety, but is generally one of the sweetest nobles you will ever have the pleasure of meeting. currently learning to use healing magic.

MIYU. vampire who tried to run from her destiny and made it worse. has to hunt down god-demons called shinma that she accidentally let escape. literally cannot die until she finishes her job, and she would very much like it to be over now. usually accompanied by her mask wearing servant, larva. she's cute and cruel in equal parts.

NATHALIE SANCOEUR. for fuck's sake she needs a vacation. and a raise. personal assistant to a supervillain. seriously questioning that relationship at this point. literally dying. trying to beat the current record holder for most akumatizations. she's pretty and could kick my ass. 

PERSEPHONE. our lady of the underground. literal goddess. known for bringing springtime and overseeing torture in the deepest depths of tartarus. the mom friend, she probably already loves you. does not put up with her husband’s bullshit. really loves her weird dog.

PIKE TRICKFOOT. gnome cleric of the everlight. she may be a holy woman but she has the spirit of a barbarian. will definitely try to drink you under the table. overestimates her own strength, but loves to surprise others when they doubt her. precious angel baby.

REINA "GLITCH" CROWNE. student at a prestigious art school with a focus on fashion design. acts like she's tough and untouchable, but she's actually just soft and trying to figure out who she is. loves meshing traditional fashion with digital media. known to the other students as "glitch" due to her first year freeze up.

RIZA HAWKEYE. military sharpshooter and right-hand-woman of the guy who wants to take over the military. likes like two people and her dog. usually smells like gun oil but it's not unpleasant. has no sense of self-preservation and will definitely die for the people she cares about. does not get paid enough. 

ROGUE. the poster child for "look don't touch." mutant and working on the proud part. literally too powerful for her own good. comes with the added bonus of her cajun husband who makes things explode by touching them. the og power couple. 

RYOKO HAKUBI. half alien, half goddess, all trouble. a literal science experiment. crash landed on earth 700-or-so years ago after a space battle with the guy she tried to steal a tree from. recently resurrected and free from the mind control that made her destroy 28 planets. she's doing her best okay? 

RYUKO MATOI. teenage girl who wants to fight. has a magical schoolgirl uniform powered by her blood. wields a giant scissor. could kick your ass, could kick my ass, could kick her own ass. secretly a softie. 

SADAKO YAMAMURA. a very, very angry ghost with the telepathic ability to project her thoughts onto physical media. the switch to the digital era has not slowed down her curse whatsoever but she misses VHS tapes. very wet. is honestly just a scared young woman who doesn't understand why bad things happened to her. will fucking kill you if given the chance. 

SIF. the unwaveringly loyal wife of thor, mother to magni, móði, and thrúd. trying desperately to hold what remains of her family together. can come across as somewhat cold. while not a warrior by any means, she will do anything to protect her children.

TABITHA DELAINE. monster hunter and general know-it-all. was part of a cult at one point but she doesn't want to talk about it. lowkey a witch but tries to use her magic sparingly. the biggest lesbian you will ever meet, next to her girlfriend van. lives in van's van. 

TIKKI. kwami of the miraculous of creation. has existed for as long as the universe has. sincerely loves humans and how wonderful they can be. helps to turn her current owner into the superhero known as ladybug.

VEX'AHLIA. ranger and rogue. sneaky and shooty. just trying not to die again, thank you very much. once stabbed a tree because it made moves on her. the champion of a god. will probably call you darling and wink at you. also, she has a bear named trinket and a husband with too many names for me to bother listing here.

[blondeboyfriend]

Palm tree for the ask game!

thank you for the ask, Mrs. Yoshikage Kira.

palm tree ⇢ do you have a fictional villain you shouldn’t like but love regardless?

NUMEROUS. Villains/antagonists are my bread and butter. Most of my favorite characters fall under that umbrella. like Dio's a messy bitch that lives for drama and made a woman eat her baby. Zeke, Ogata, and Tsurumi are war criminals. Makima is a fucking mind terrorist. Toji is Toji.

I can't help but love fictional bad people.

get to know me asks

[brandonwayneb]

DONT ACCEPT WHITE CRIMES INTERNATIONAL MURDERS

those illegal hospital white only clubs slammed my head and body upside down and said I was DUMP STER DUMPED, at PEDRO PETS PIT TONS of SEALS,

by they almost murdered me from using my body as dumping me upsidedown from illegal hospitals in Mckinney Texas, and their still trying to call me a Mac Donalds Hamburger Manager dumpster dive, package meals

genocides of white crimes,

dumping upsidedown ER homicide trucks, stolen white medical teams being used as FRAT rat poison houses.

those illegal hospital white only clubs slammed my head and body upside down and said I was DUMP STER DUMPED, at PEDRO PETS PIT TONS of SEALS,

by they almost murdered me from using my body as dumping me upsidedown from illegal hospitals in Mckinney Texas, and their still trying to call me a Mac Donalds Hamburger Manager dumpster dive, package meals

genocides of white crimes,

dumping upsidedown ER homicide trucks, stolen white medical teams being used as FRAT rat poison houses.

im so mad and disappointed that america so easily lets white criminals murder or genocide people saying Lambs Wool and stamming peoples bodies upsidedown while their sea dates, sedated, a bunions and purple date onions Kim banging

those illegal hospital white only clubs slammed my head and body upside down and said I was DUMP STER DUMPED, at PEDRO PETS PIT TONS of SEALS,

by they almost murdered me from using my body as dumping me upsidedown from illegal hospitals in Mckinney Texas, and their still trying to call me a Mac Donalds Hamburger Manager dumpster dive, package meals

genocides of white crimes,

dumping upsidedown ER homicide trucks, stolen white medical teams being used as FRAT rat poison houses.

im so mad and disappointed that america so easily lets white criminals murder or genocide people saying Lambs Wool and stamming peoples bodies upsidedown while their sea dates, sedated, a bunions and purple date onions Kim banging

victims responses Mckinney Texas homicides in america children packing death to babies,

at bread rail road barstools hands and slamming bodies upsidedown

yeah im really mad babe,

thats so disgusting, i really want witness protection without white illegal undercover teams,

white undercover teams in america causing global homicides,

i swear my life, I vow on my life that’s how their washing and bedding crimes on victims bodies

their trying to attack us again at saying CD PLAYERS, and PIZZA BISCUITS BABY GOLDS

dont deal with cd players!!

hard drive wires!! white crimes,

don't accept white crimes,

theyre war homicides at them massing CD pizza cutters and saying EAT BAY GHOALS and BISCUITS SCOTTY POTTY TEA

not snow capsules,

not pack man pudge

just listen cody…. theres too many white crimes occurring,

get a new telephone anchor if you wish, but PLEASE please dont accept white people’s injustices against humanity and myself too, everyone,

they’ve systematically stacked gang homicide teams in stolen false roles, lab assistants, doctors, police, only white explicit crimes

and they all try to hide stacking pizza slicers and pancake CD dick disks, about saying DIZZINESS at

DEE DAY ZZZZ MEAT DOUGHNUT

just dont accept derogatory, white explicit crimes,

please dont disbelieve…

or they could try to come back to hurt me again, and they’re already farming lots,

fights at Mayo Nasal crushing bodies and lungs,

because they said if anyone outbreeds their crimes they try to have them subbedded with pokemon throw balls and childrens MAC MIC rat donalds,

at says CD player and KIM MIC,

trying to say Kim Banging and slander camp dumping bodies

they dropped me down backwards and acted like I naturally fell backwards, after purposely trying to rip my heart slander crimes,

just dont accept white cimes,

PLEASE cody.. okay. dont panic too much, I promise MY LIFE, only white people did that towards me and many people,

MANY people, not MAYO NAZZZE

frat house homicides purple pazye

i had to tell cody the building manager before they try to come back here, or before they try to smash farm more white crimes on us, me, you, all innocent lives

they are all trying to say CD player pizza slice homicides, and mac donalds MIC MAC micro phone homicides…

Kim Mic,

at saying Kim, they blamed at RAT cheerleaders homicides on cheerleader squads,

please dont accept white crimes

and please dont betray anyone locally or internationally.

they've said TWIST his YOUR REEF THA, your Reatha

says white crimes hidden all those HIGH DENS at your Reatha frank cull lenses, homicides and genocides WHITE ONLY slander dumps stealing essential life functions,

white crimes, please dont mistake those events for anyone else, because I promise MY LIFE that those are illegal WHITE only

victims laws,

please dont accept white crimes, because theyre ruining peoples lives of smashing generational poverty crimes

dont accept Poll Volt either

sideways motorcycle poll volt

lightning bikes, turn a pole sideways, and thats a lightning bolt bike homicide

dont accept Poll Volt either

sideways motorcycle poll volt

lightning bikes, turn a pole sideways, and thats a lightning bolt bike homicide

they were smashing my lungs

and chest, to suppress my voice,

and stealing cheerleaders and commander voices

[scentedchildnacho]

She told me a few more meal sites so money wasn't spent on food so much.....and told me I would have to have documentation at women's shelters......

So I told her online it said they do have programs that reduce the attractiveness of gang life....and that path programs are suppose to offer choice..

.she told me down town does get violent it's a lot of drug addiction....so I told her I had been in Florida Arizona Texas so I have seen a lot of what can happen to people.....

Aids documentaries on progression politics just said if I want to live this way I have to go to South America because north is only for euthanasia suicide programs

I told her there are south west legalism groups that are trying to abolish documentation politics.....I was born in Wisconsin so I do still have a few citizenship rights though a judge in Georgia told me under mkultra Joseph mengele twin theory white is an indigenous classification

I was told in Florida emigration though the snitch found out about and it was too heinously violent for state id to restrict people from their lives it's considered frietal terrorism in europe

I don't enjoy hospitality under anti emigration

State id is a constant contradiction you have to have an address to get it but you can't have an address without it

I don't competely know what happened to me...but permissioning policy is viewed as baby killing.....do you want to have a baby under you may pee or not

Jerry told me in Biloxi Mississippi I was going to have to understand it's civil abuse case as white artificial intelligence beguines like me meditate a non trespassing power so

They want personal power all the time and I'm not sure it's necessary to keep tolerating jap bombs like clear cutting and car malfunction a lot of Americans waiting to cross the border or suribachi

Uhm I'm not sure we weren't liberated to become nuns from beguines and anchoresses and the children maybe have a.i. community fosterage they may be do not have to occupy the school anymore......my daily bread told me there will be no land ownership for my people I was called for God.....

I think constructivists maybe could tell you what happened to me....but I think scacco the police don't work in sanitary ways and when it's sex trafficking by police then they shouldn't have to cell study all the time the police unions are suppose to get public torture like more outside oxygen to train for urban combat abroad

I'm 42 so it's just to force the white light system here your blinding me that really fucking hurt

My cell criminal told me about neo Nazism that she had to go to jail for gang conduct because to her they were going to blow up the whole world or nana ho.....

London just said they had to study Hindus women about their strategies with violence and cow worship it's to keep warring on Christians and Muslims and causing deformisms because we could be a strong people and it scares japs and germs

I'm not sure we aren't liberated to tell Texas that it's cows have to be more Wisconsin like...their cows not royal land

Anyway the neo Nazi wants to scrape white matter off my eye ball and some of the cosmetic surgery here is maybe like a European concentration like they tried to study broken glass shoved in her.....upper thighs after.........selling stem cells from unborn fetus

[transformezzzzzz]

Alright, looks like I’m back on a transformers binge so fluffy, nobody is dead au where oopsie doodle magic science shit happens and all the clones get to teleported to the transformers universe and get to hang out on Griffin Rock.

( for y’all that don’t know what the hell im taking about griffin rock is the town these 4 transformers are assuming to protect after they come out of stasis to find that their planet can no longer sustain life after their 4 million year war and their mission is to serve and protect the humans and learn from them now that their calling earth their new home and they live with a family of rescue workers, the show is called transformers rescue bots and it’s a really cute light fluffy show filled with adventure I think you all would like it, you can pirate it just about anywhere)

Reasons they should go there:

Ghosts

Dinosaur island

Mad scientists

The blob

Dream gremlins

Hella robots

Conspiracy theorist news reporter

A cross eyed lion

Expired bunker meat that turns people into Bigfoot

Realistic family and friend interactions

Mayor with a fake toupee

Teleportation via bugs

Weather machines

Time travel

Constant volcanic eruptions

A cat named Mr. pettypaws

Optimus Prime gets hunted for sport as a dinosaur

Meteorites

Twin shoplifting criminal masterminds

The main antagonist is from like, the 1920’s and is quite fruity and wears a monocle and he ends up walking into the sunset with Jules Verne

Local man who gets around via helicopter jet pack

Constant natural disasters

Robo babies

Bread Santa clause

Local grouchy old lady who believes in fairies

Spelunking

Multiple dooms day devices

Island of misfit tech

The liberty bells Lind lost cousin

The Bermuda Triangle

Space worm vampires

Sports car James Bond

Pirates

Virtual reality

FLYING LOBSTERS

Mark Hamill

Crazy uncle you only ever see once a year

Jungle tower

Helicopter that’s afraid of heights

Bulldozer that likes to pain with mashed up peas

Police car that would jail you for not using the cross walk

Fire truck with anger issues

SHRINK RAY

SERBO THE ROBO DOG

So Mr.Burns is the police chief and the father of the Burns family and he is a lot like plo Kloon and I really think y’all would love this show

but I think this would be a really great place for the clones to be safe in and relax, have some shenanigans. HELLA SHENANIGANS. But the 501st, the 212th, the 104th and the Coriscant guard are definitely in this, fuck it the alpha arcs are there too.

But I really want waxer and boil to interact with mr. petty paws the cat, and for whatever reason unbeknownst to the locals Ms.Neaderlander loves the two boys. Waxer: *picking up the cat and petting him* Boil: huh, that’s a funny looking loth cat.

Or the one kids nickname is Cody and I want a scene she his dad, Chief burns is trying to find him and yells ��CODY” and commander cody who was near by just turns on his heels and is like “yes chief burns?” And the chief is like no not you, my son, thank you tho. And Cody’s like :( what am I chopped liver and chief just sighs.

Bolder trying to teach the clones how to pain and Dogma loves it. Dogma would also love Chase and not at all because they would talk about da rules, no no, I think they have that somewhat in common but Dogma would more find comfort in the fact that Chase isn’t very spontaneous, he’s calculated, trustworthy and likes to do things step by step and I think Dogma would vibe with that.

When Danny cooks everyone crys except Sinker because he will eat anything, I think he would also eat the expired bunker spam on purpose.

Oddball and the other pilots help Blades be less afraid of flying and teaching him different maneuvers.

The 501st getting lost in the tunnel system and accidentally end up walking all the way over to dinosaur island and get to see cool crystals and almost get eaten by the dinosaurs. Hardcase when he finds out the crystals are highly flammable: *explosion thoughts intensity*

Heatwave and Wolffe would get into a snark off contest.

I fell Alpha-17 might enjoy the trails that run through Griffin Rocks wilderness. He would maybe make friends with the local black bear population on accident because he didn’t know what they were and that they were not friendly and he walked into one on a hike and he was like🧍damn that’s a big ass dog, a funny looking fellow really, ay buddy do you want this cliff bar? And the bear is like 🧍wtf is this guy doing, should I eat him? But eventually 17 and the bear are buddies and he brings the bear back and is like “hey chief check out the dog I found “ and chief is like “how many times do I have to tell everyone no dogs-👁👄👁”

Wooley,soup, and toast would be fascinated with the bakery

They all participate in the Burn family tradition of game night weather they like it or not

Kix, Fives, Hardcase, Jesse, Hevy, Boost, Gree, Oddball, Gregor, Neyo, Thorn and Barcara would participate in helping test doc Greens weird little machines

Every Friday is disco and karaoke night at one of the local bars and they all go out and party. They also like going to the roller skating rink where they can also jam to 2011 type pop.

Rex, Monnk and Ponds enjoy chief Burns company and like going fishing with him and going out on the boat.

Pls I could go on and on but please feel free to add onto this, Griffin Rock is already so god damn weird so the sky is the limit go crazy

I know this is very much a crack au but It makes me so sad when the clones suffer and they deserve to be happy damn it, I apologize to my many followers who have no idea what the hell im talking about.

[wkemeup]

By Any Other Name (2)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra… you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6.7k warnings: descriptions of a controlling relationship, bucky is undercover as james, a wild peter appears, brock is an asshole 🌹series masterlist 🌹

“I thought I told you to keep these out of sight.”

Brock held up a copy of Jane Eyre, waving it around impatiently as you crossed the room to take it off his hands. You held the book close to your chest, brushing your hands along the fabric of the aged binding and took in the comforting scent of the pressed paper and ink. There was a slight aroma of aged brandy that burned in your nose and you looked down at the book to find a splash of Brock’s drink seeping into the cover of the near two century year old novel.

“Sorry,” you muttered, thumb brushing against the stain, a slight tremor in your voice. You turned to leave the room but Brock’s hand caught on the edge of your dress, grabbing a firm hold of the fabric and you stilled instantly. Your grasp on the book ached in your hands.

“You forgot something, baby.”

Muscles tensing, body clenching, you took a deep breath and pushed out a smile as you turned around to face him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips. He tasted of cigar smoke and liquor despite the clear blue of the morning sky outside. You held onto the book pressed against your heart like it was a lifeline as he caged you with a hand gripped into your hair.

He let you go with a satisfied hum and you exhaled a breath of relief. He turned back to the papers on his lap without another thought to you and you quickly disappeared from the living room to return the book to its home.

Chills pressing bumps into your skin, you rushed down the hall until you found the sanctity of the library and closed the doors shut behind you. Leaning against the frame, you glanced down at the book, running a hand across the blue cover, tracing along silver lettering.

The stain had dried, a slight discoloration in the cover and you clenched your teeth so tightly it ached in the muscle. You set the book back on the shelve, squeezing it in amongst The Tales of Angria and Emma, your favorites in Bronte’s collection.

You stepped back from the shelf, admiring the precision of it, the colorings of the aged fabric of the covers and the intricately designed lettering on the bindings. It was beautiful; hundreds of years’ worth of knowledge and art and most brilliant creative works of humanity all gathered in a single room. Hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on these shelves. It was the only thing you put your time into these days; all that Brock would allow you access to the accounts for, so you didn’t get any… ideas.

You groaned, falling onto the couch and tucking your knees to your chest. A half empty cup of tea from the night before sat on the end table still seeping. There was a light ring forming under the cup, but you didn’t mind. It would add to the collection. Something about this place needed to feel imperfect and homey, unlike how polished and clinical as the rest of the mansion was.

It hadn’t always been this way, your relationship with Brock. You didn’t always feel so trapped in your own home, restricted to putting everything you had into a single outlet and spending your life locked away in a room your husband didn’t bother to ever step inside.

You had met Brock when you were a professor at Columbia in one of the cafes down by your office building. He had a charming kind of smile and was impossibly sweet for his stature and the scars littering his skin. He was easy to fall in love with and you supposed just about anyone would be if they were purposely catering every thought, feeling, and behavior to mold into what you wanted him to be.

He played the part of a loving boyfriend for nearly three years. You’d married quickly, with a short engagement, because he insisted he was just so in love that he couldn’t wait another second. You’d believed him because you were a girl who had grown up with an elusive father who spent more time in his office than at your recitals and scholarships ceremonies and poetry nights.

His disappointment in your love of the arts and literary fiction left a hole in your chest that Brock easily filled. Brock was the one who built the library in your shared home and encouraged you in your work at Columbia. He bragged incessantly about your accomplishments and joined you at every departmental fundraiser. He was perfect in every way, if only on paper.

Everything changed the night your father died and his millions were inherited to you, his only living child. Brock became distant and cold, and you had convinced yourself that he was grieving. He had been close with your father, after all, but the darkness never went away. He convinced you to transfer your inheritance to a joint account so he could take care of you, so you could take a step back and mourn without having to worry about paying bills and funeral costs and mortgages.

You never saw a penny of that money again.

It didn’t take long before you learned of Brock’s connections to Hydra, his apprenticeship under Alexander Pierce, and the crimes he committed in the dark cover of night when he slipped from your bed for nearly five years.

You supposed it was your own ignorance that let it go on for as long as it did or perhaps you were simply too naïve to see it, but Brock had held you down, tied and bound for years before you even felt the ropes.

You confronted him with the pieces you’d put together on his connection to the criminal world and he had threatened to turn you over to the police. It had been your money funneling Hydra and you were complicit, an accessory to every crime he’d committed and the blood money he’d made since.

He had you exactly where he wanted you; trapped, with nowhere to go, no friends or family to turn to. You hadn’t even realized how isolated you’d become until you were desperate to leave. He’d found a way to separate you from the last remaining friendships you’d had before you even knew they were gone.

So, you played the part of the doting wife. You did as he asked and kept up appearances when necessary. You went to his black tie events in expensive dresses and heels because it was what he demanded. You watched as he turned your father’s wealth into hundreds of millions of dollars through drug trafficking and weapons manufacturing, all while fighting off turf wars and ordering the executions of dozens of men.

He wanted you to conform to his life. He asked it of you every once in a while, for you to take your rightful place by his side and rule the city of New York together, but you told him to shove it. You wanted no part in the world he dragged you into, kept you locked away in by threat of extortion. He was a monster by your standards.

Your relationship with him was surface level. It was a political move to marry you, seeking out your father’s money. He’d forced you to step down from your position at Columbia, isolating you from the last remaining ties you had. He controlled every aspect of your life.

So, you kissed him when he asked, slept with him when he came onto you, because you were going through the motions. You kept yourself secluded to the one place that still managed to bring you joy; your library.

You were content. Numb, but content.

But something was different now. You couldn’t place what it was, but the unsettled need for more was returning to the surface and you were desperate to crawl your way out again.

A cool breeze swept in through the window, startling you out of your memories, and you shivered, turning to quickly close the draft as to not disturb the delicate temperatures needed to preserve the books. Locking the window shut, you turned and leaned against the wall, gazing out at the walled lined with countless novels, though your eyes kept falling back to a certain Bradbury novel with red flames intricately designed on the cover.

You sighed, grabbing your bag from the table and quickly made your way out to the car before Brock could notice you were gone.

***

You had the driver drop you off in Brooklyn, a few blocks off from the Queens border. It was part of your Sunday routine as much as you could manage to sneak away, to come into the softer side of the city and visit the shops and storefronts you’d frequented in your time before Brock.

You reveled in the feeling of the cold breeze against your every step, hands pressed into your pockets and nose tucking into a scarf when the chill started to bite.

You stopped in at your favorite bagel shop, the one with a few of the letters missing from the sign, and ordered your usual from the kind, middle-aged woman at the register. She smiled as she saw you, giving you a quick wave, as she finished up with the customer across the counter.

Stepping up to the counter, you took in a heavy breath of the fresh baked bread and the bacon sizzling on the table fryers. It was heaven in a shop.

“Hey, Mrs. Marselli,” you greeted, eyeing the order board though you had no intentions to change your mind, “I’ll take a—"

“Oh, don’t you worry, dear, I know it by heart,” she grinned, calling your order down to the last detail to her husband in the kitchen. You hadn’t changed your order in nearly three years and she winked at you. The bagel came only a few moments later wrapped up tight in tin foil.

“It smells amazing, as usual,” you grinned and slid a few extra dollars over the counter.

Mrs. Marselli picked up the cash and narrowed her eyes on it suspiciously. It wasn’t the first time you gave her more than what the bagel was worth. “This is too much, dear. I might need to send you back to school with my grandson!”

“Hmm, guess so,” you shrugged as you backed away, giving her no chance to hand you back the change and excess dollars. “Have a good day Mrs. Marselli! Tell Jim thanks for the bagel!”

“Will do, honey! Stay warm!

The next stop was down at the coffee joint on the corner of the block. It sat next to a Starbucks that usually had a line out the door, but you liked the family who ran Café Ramos and wanted to hear about whether Neftali’s son made the school musical.

The bell rang as you walked inside, a short blast of warm air pushing through the frame and you let out a sigh of relief and pulled the scarf down from your mouth. A messy mop of brown curls jumped up from the register where it looked like Mateo was trying to take a mid-morning nap.

“Y/n’s here!” Mateo shouted back to the kitchen, waving you over and quickly preparing your cup of hot warm. “What can I get you this time? We just got a gingerbread tea in time for the holidays? What about a chocolate lavender? Could always go apple caramel, too…”

“Whatever you think, Mateo,” you laughed, handing him the usual cost of the drink and told him to keep the change. He turned to grab a tea bag from the tin box with a small gingerbread drawing in brown crayon on the front label. “So, did you get the part of Bernardo or what? Don’t hold out on me, kid!”

“Who knows?” he sang with a huge grin, right in tune with the classic song ‘Something’s Coming’ straight from the West Side Story score. You squealed and gave him a high five, though he tried to play it cool. Most high school juniors did.

“That’s amazing, kid! I’m so happy for you,” you bit on your lip, trying to keep in your excitement. You’d known him since he was in elementary school and he talked nonstop of wanting to nab a lead in the high school play. This was his dream. “I want a ticket when you open, you hear me?”

Mateo’s cheeks flushed pink as he pressed the lid to your tea. “Bernardo doesn’t really sing a lot but I’ve got a lot of dance numbers and we all know the Sharks are way cooler than the Jets.”

“Well, count me in as team Shark,” you laughed, taking the tea as he handed it to you. It was piping hot but the smell was intoxicating. “Don’t forget to tell your mom I said thank you for the flowers she delivered to my aunt’s house last week. They were lovely.”

“Sure thing, Y/n!” Mateo called after you as you made your way to the door. He was a sweet kid.

There was as reason you looked forward to Sundays.

Most of the stops you made on your trips alone were filled with interactions like the sweet couple at the bagel joint and the Ramos family at the café, smiles and quick questions of how their day was going, but sometimes, you’d run into people on the street who recognized you for another reason, who knew of your connection to Rumlow and Hydra and they’d take one look at you before crossing the street or disappearing into an alleyway for an escape.

You clenched your jaw as it happened for the third time in only fifteen times.

This time, it was a young man, maybe in his college years with a dark purple bruise on his eye. He was walking with his head down, he almost didn’t notice you until he bumped hard enough into your shoulder to send you spiraling to the ground, trying to escape an oncoming biker who shouldn’t have been on the sidewalk in the first place.

The rest of your tea spilled to the sidewalk and the last bite of bagel was lost to the road. You only had a few sips of the tea anyway and it would give you a decent excuse to grab another on your way home, so it was no loss to you. Though, your tailbone would beg to differ.

“Oh shit! Sorry about tha–” The kid froze dead in his tracks when he finally got a look at you. He reached out quickly and pulled you to your feet, stepping away to give you distance.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” you said, trying to laugh it off but you recognized that petrified look in his eye. He almost certainly knew your husband you wondered what he part of Brock’s world he could possibly be involved in at an age so young. He didn’t seem to be hearing a word you said, so you tried again. “No harm done, kid. Really. I’m perfectly fi–”

“Please, ma’am, I wasn’t lookin’ where I was going,” he begged suddenly, hands shaking now as he glanced around the street nervously, like he was waiting for an attack. “Please, don’t tell Mr. Rumlow. I didn’t– I didn’t mean to–”

He didn’t even give you a chance to convince him that you’d never tell Brock something so trivial and that he had no reason to be afraid, but he bolted off before you could.

“Wait!” you called after him, but it was no use. He was already down the block, glancing back at you over his shoulder like he was running from enemy fire. A frown pushed at your lips, aching in your cheeks as you picked up the empty cup and the foil from the bagel.

Murmurs of bystanders hung in the air around you and you noticed an elderly couple whispering amongst themselves and pointing in your direction. They knew who you were and gossiped amongst themselves. You just hoped word didn’t get back to Brock, but still, these sorts of things always did.

***

When you finally made it to the bodega in Queens, you spotted your cousin sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, mindlessly scrolling through his phone, though his mess of brown hair popped up at every horn that blared in the streets, which was pretty often.

“Parker!”

Peter’s head snapped up in your direction, smiling bright in relief, and he jumped up from the sidewalk, rushing the rest of the way and crashing into you at the center of the crosswalk. His grip around you was tight and he nuzzled the cold of his nose into your shoulder.

“I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show,” he mumbled. Voice muffled as spoke against the lining of your coat. It was a rough time of year for the Parkers. The anniversary of his uncle’s death had just passed last week. You let him hang onto you longer than usual.

You chuckled, glancing around at the pedestrians as they sent you irritable glares in their efforts to step around the two of you. You ushered Peter back over to the sidewalk, not daring to pry his arms from around you.

“Come on, Pete, you know I’d call if I couldn’t come,” you reminded him. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on you, huh?”

He laughed a little, pulling himself away from your embrace and nodded.

“What’s on our agenda for today?” you inquired, nudging his shoulder to pull that smile out of him again.

“Aunt May wanted me to deposit some checks,” Peter said, gesturing to the lump in his coat pocket. They must be condolences from the funeral. It was nearly five years ago now, but May had a hard time bringing herself to deposit them. Looked like Peter finally convinced her to let them go. “The banks out in Brooklyn though, and I know you just came from there so it’s okay if you don’t want to walk that f—”

“I don’t mind,” you replied with a shrug, hoping to ease some of his tension. “It’s a nice day and I’ve got time.”

That got him smiling, at least.

As you followed Peter along the sidewalks back to Brooklyn, you were relieved to find that he still had the energy to talk a mile a minute, telling you everything from how school has been, his progress on his latest project for the science fair, his escapades with his buddy Ned, and the kid named Flash who had some kind of vendetta against him.

“How’s Michelle?” you asked him suddenly. He nearly choked on air, coughing to alleviate his surprise and you laughed into your scarf, trying to hold it back for the sake of his ego.

“Oh, she’s—uh—she’s good,” he stuttered, chuckling nervously and running a hand through his hair. “I was thinking I might try and find this necklace for her, actually. She really likes the Black Dalilah. You know, like the murder?”

You raised an eyebrow, listening intently as Peter explained and you couldn’t help but feel grateful you weren’t in high school anymore. All these rules about how to interact with everyone and constant pressure to say the right thing. It was exhausting. Though, if you were honest with yourself, your life wasn’t much different now as it was then.

“What about you? How are things with Brock?”

You blinked a few times, surprised to look up and find you were a few blocks past where you’d last checked. You brushed a hand through your hair, shaking out the knots.

“Oh, you know, same as usual,” you said, not willing to give Peter any more detail than he needed. He knew nothing of the underground world your husband operated in and you planned to keep it that way. As far as Peter knew, Brock was the owner of a dance club in midtown. Nothing more.

There was an ache in your voice though, a slight sort of tremble that Peter usually picked up on though he didn’t force it. You felt his eyes as he glanced over at you, hands tucked into his pockets and shoulders hunched up by his ears to hide from the cold, trying to find evidence of your hurt upon your face. Your eyes were downcast, lips pressed to a frown.

He’d seen the change in you after your father died and he had thought it was grief, even for a man who wasn’t around much to begin with. He had tried to give you space but even you knew you had lost pieces of yourself that never healed again and it wasn’t because of your father.

“Come on, kid,” you huffed, swatting at his arm enough to trip him a few steps and get him laughing again, “I’ll race you to the bank.”

It was only two blocks away and you were on back alleys with minimal traffic anyway. It was something you used to do when you were younger and you’d be the one watching him after school. It was all you could do to get the energy out of the little pest.

“What do I get if I beat you?”

“Pride, Peter.”

“How about donuts from McQueen’s?” he pressed, grabbing tight to your elbow and bringing you to an abrupt stop. Alright – so he was serious now.

You narrowed your eyes. “Fine. When I win, I want churros from the street vender across the block.”

“Done.”

***

An hour later you dropped Peter off back at Aunt May’s there was sweet sticky residue of cinnamon sugar on your fingers as you waved goodbye. You pulled the second churro from your bag, half eaten, and bit down on it with a triumphant smile.

Peter laughed, shaking his head as he brushed past Aunt May and slipped inside the house. She waved at you, leaning against the frame, reminding you to not be such a stranger, before you made your way home.

It had been a while since you’d spent time with Aunt May, especially after Uncle Ben passed. Hell, it had been a while since you’d spent time with anyone, really. You worked hard to keep Peter and Aunt May out of Brock’s world.

You never told him when you met up with Peter on the Sundays you were able to slip out of the house, giving excuses of your errands in Brooklyn and spending time reading in the park. He never questioned you, never thought that you would lie to him because he thought you to be feeble and submissive.

He confused you for the character in which you played for him. You weren’t the only one who could be fooled by someone who was supposed to love them.

You sighed as you pushed your way into the front door of the home, the chill of the inside no warmer than the flutter of snow falling outside. You reluctantly unwrapped your scarf, hung your coat, and eyed the emptiness of the living room. There was a loneliness in this home you were never quite able to shake, even in the moments Brock was around. It was never his company you craved.

A chill swept up your spine and you tugged your cardigan across your chest. Hoping there might be something in the kitchen you could throw together to make soup, you kicked off your shoes by the door and scurried your way across the living room. Hell, you’d even settle for a cup of tea and a PB&J if it was all you had.

Humming to yourself, you didn’t notice the murmured voices beyond the door as you pushed your way inside.

You froze in your tracks, nearly stumbling over your feet to find Brock and a few men in suits you didn’t recognize sitting around the table, eyes all trained on you.

James stood in the corner of the room, observing, and if you hadn’t already known what he did for your husband, you would have thought he was out of place.

Even the limited interactions you had with him had been decent, kind almost, and certainly nothing like the rest of the men your husband kept under his payroll. He nodded at you in acknowledgement, hands clasped behind his back. It was subtle, but it was there. It was more than any other Hydra members offered you.

Brock’s jaw was clenched when you finally dared to look in his direction, a silent warning for you to leave the room, but you huffed, letting the door close behind you as you made your way to the stove and turned on the top right burner. You usually had a bit more defiance in you after your time with Peter. He reminded you of who you used to be.

“Gentlemen, this is my wife,” Brock announced, forced smile and tight in his tone. He never offered your name, like withholding it was another lock he kept you under; dehumanized and alone.

You could hear the murmurs of approval from his business associates as you put a pot on the stove. Just as you were reaching for a can of broth from the pantry, Brock cleared his throat. You gritted your teeth and turned to face him.

“Why don’t you let Clara make something for you, baby?”

He wasn’t asking to be kind. He wanted you gone.

Clara quickly stepped in from the adjoining room, a sweet woman in her early seventies who had been working for the Rumlow family for decades and put up with far more than she should. You shook your head at her, offering a small smile as you held up your hand.

“I can manage just fine, thanks,” you replied.

“Baby,” Brock urged, the threatening nature of his voice masked under the pet name you despised, “we’re in the middle of a very important meeting.”

“You’re also in the middle of the kitchen and I’m hungry,” you snapped back, pleased by the flash of shock on his face. “You have a thousand other rooms in this house, you can’t go anywhere else?”

You’d come to regret that jab later, but the satisfaction of the way his forced smile faded down into an aggravated frown was too sweet to resist. As you turned back to the stove, you spotted James in the corner attempting to suppress a smile, though he quickly pushed it aside when Brock called his name.

“Karpov, please escort my wife somewhere she’ll be more comfortable. I’ll have Clara bring her dinner when it’s ready.”

James nodded, stern features replacing the softness of the smile and he stepped forward, gesturing for you to follow.

“You can’t be serious,” you gaped, glancing at James before you turned back to Brock.

You weren’t a child and you didn’t need to be treated as such, but with the look on Brock’s face, the redness burning in patches on his neck and the glare in his eyes as he stared you down, warning you to shut your damn mouth, and you silenced immediately.

You’d seen that look before. It wasn’t one you enjoyed being on the receiving end of.

“Ma’am, please come with me,” James requested, voice low, soft, and he placed a hand on your arm to lead you away but you yanked it from his grasp harsher than you intended.

It wasn’t him you were angry with but he was just as much a part of Hydra’s world as your husband was. He chose this life. You were forced into it. It didn’t matter how sweet and gentle he was, or the fact that he seemed to care about your books or your wellbeing. He was still a man following orders.

Frustration was etching in your skin, leaving you feeling antsy and shaken, but you stood your ground. You met Brock’s eye from across the room, a challenge of wills between you.

“Don’t make me ask again,” Brock growled, slowly standing from his position.

It was then you felt another soft touch on the mid of your shoulder blades. Gentle, guiding, and entirely unlike the hands of his men before who had yanked you from the room with a firm grasp around your wrist that left red marks and aching. You turned to find James watching you carefully, offering a nod in encouragement, and you shivered away from his fingertips.

His hand fell immediately and he made no efforts to touch you again.

You glanced back at your husband, and then to Clara who had already starting preparing the soup with the ingredients you had taken out of the pantry. With a roll of your eyes, you turned on your heels and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Brock with a satisfied, prideful smirk you’d come to loath.

“Keep an eye on her, Karpov,” Brock called out to James and you turned your shoulder to find him following you into the living room.

There was an apologetic look about him, with his hands stuffed into his pockets and his hair falling down into his face. He offered you a tight-lipped smile despite the hardened frown on your face, and it only seemed to add to the confusion he elicited in you.

“I don’t need a babysitter, just so you know,” you said, arms folded over your chest as you leaned against the back of the couch.

“Oh, I am fully aware,” James nodded, a slight chuckle escaping him. “Think you can do me a favor and let me stick around for a bit though? Just so I don’t piss off the boss?”

You laughed despite yourself. The tension quickly fading from your shoulders and your arms unfolded from your chest. Hands gripping at the suede fabric of the couch, you turned to see James smiling at you. It was bright, leaving dimples on his cheeks and wrinkles by his eyes. He was really quite beautiful if you stopped and let yourself think so, which you did not.

“I suppose I can be fine with that.“

A silence took over for a moment and he shifted in his stance. He didn’t care for the quiet, you noticed, watching the way his eyes glanced down to his watch and he started to tap his toe against the hardwood floors. It took you a few years, but you’d come to savor the silent moment likes these. They meant you were alone, out of Brock and Hydra’s reach. They were a blanket of warmth and safety.

James seemed to find them unsettling.

“I actually have something for you,” he said suddenly, a slight jolt in his body as the realization came back to him and he quickly made his way to a black backpack sitting in the corner of the living room.

You narrowed your eyes on him, wondering what your husband’s enforcer could possibly have in that bag. You watched as he dug around the inside and tried to steal a glance over his shoulder when he stood up abruptly with a sudden nervous energy about him.

He didn’t say anything as he extended his hand to you; in his grasp was a copy of A Farewell to Arms.

You swallowed, stilling immediately, as you stared at it for a moment, giving yourself just a moment to process exactly what this was before your eyes trailed up to his.

He was swaying on his feet and it surprised you to watch a man who had been hired by your husband, to have dozens of pounds of muscle on his frame, and standing at six feet tall to be so nervous. You carefully took the book from his hands, running your fingers along the print of the title before you flipped through the pages.

It was faded on the cover and the binding was near in pieces from over stretching and cracking down the middle with use, but it was still readable, even with the ring of coffee stained on the first page of chapter one. The back cover had a high school library sticker adhered to the page that looked like it had been picked at relentlessly, though it won out in the end.

Worn over the years of being passed from student to student until ultimately James took it home and kept it more than a decade ago. It was a relic. A memory. It was perfect in every way and suddenly there was a lump in your throat you couldn’t quite explain. It had been years since you’d known kindness like this inside this home.

You had Peter and Aunt May, but they were like treasured secrets; ones you kept at the furthest distance from Brock as you could. This – this book in your hands – was something else entirely. You couldn’t remember the last time Brock brought you something simply because it reminded him of you.

James managed to make your heart ache and your stomach twist all at once, and you’d only known him a few weeks. You were at a complete loss.

“I know it’s not a first edition but,” he stumbled nervously, scratching at the back of his neck, “it was one of the few classics I liked back in high school. It’s, uh, seen some things… clearly.”

He chuckled anxiously, gesturing to the worn-down binding, and after a moment of what seemed to be pure shock, you tugged the book to your chest, hugging it close to your heart. A smile lit up your face, sparkling like gold and glitter and magic in your eyes. It was like a rush of heat in your veins and breath of fresh air.

“Do you want to see the library?” you asked suddenly and he seemed surprised by that as he raised an eyebrow, taking a step back. Now it was your turn to shift nervously on your feet as you stole a glance back over to the kitchen. “You know, if you’re stuck with me for a little while?”

James smiled, the corners of his lips curving slowly into his cheeks, and he nodded.

You grinned, turning on your heels and allowing him to follow you. You kept the Hemingway classic close to your chest the entire walk and tried not to think of the implications of it or the fact that Brock never once took any interest in your books or that you’d only known James a few weeks and he already seemed to be more interested in your love of fiction than your husband ever was.

You pushed all those thoughts aside. At least, you tried to. James wasn’t making it exceptionally easy with the way he was stunned into near silence as you pushed open the heavy oak doors and led him inside your sanctuary.

“I know you said you saw it before, but–”

“Not like this,” he said with a heavy sigh, shaking his head in disbelief as he stepped inside.

You knew a forced smile when you saw it and the way James walked around the room, his hand trailing along the shelf and closely examining the titles and the intricate detailing in the woodwork, every ounce of the bewilderment on his face seemed to be entirely genuine. He paused at the end of the first row, chuckling to himself as he pulled out a novel you quickly realized was among your Bradbury collection.

Fahrenheit 451. The book he asked you about the second time you ever spoke to him. There were smiles in between, careful glances and slight nods of acknowledgment in a way none of Brock’s men ever offered to you before, but the first time he talked to you, really talked to you, without the presence of your husband, was the first time you’d laughed in that home in a long time.

“You can borrow it, if you like,” you offered, leaning against the shelf as you watched him flip open the pages, studying the near translucency of the paper and the sculpted gold framing of the font on the cover.

“Think I might be a bit too rough around the edges for something as delicate as this,” he replied and it made your stomach twist in knots with the way he laughed to himself. The feeling was so foreign to you, you almost didn’t recognize it. It had been years since anyone brought those kinds of butteries around.

“I don’t believe that’s true,” you shrugged, stepping closer. “There’s no use in having a library full of books you can’t read. It’s what they’re here for.”

“Not sure that applies to ones worth thousands of dollars,” he mumbled awkwardly, though he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the first page, like he had already started reading. His eyes were scanning the page, a slight curve of his lips as he read, and you swore your heart fluttered, but you shoved the feeling deep down because it wasn’t one you were allowed to have.

“It does, actually,” you countered and he looked up from the page to find you standing just a few feet away.

He sighed, clearly reluctant. His eyes trailed from the pages to your face, and back to the pages again. “Only if you’re sure.”

“I insist.”

You smiled at him and he closed the book, letting his hand fall to the side with the novel pressed to his hip. He nodded in appreciation.

“Guess it’s the least you could do now that I’ve gifted you such a relic,” he grinned, nodding to the novel in your hands nearly torn at the seams, with pages bending in the corners from unwanted moisture and cracks in the cover.

“Hey!” you laughed, swatting his arm playfully, “don’t knock my new favorite book.”

“Favorite, huh?”

Your cheeks hurt. Blushing and heart pounding. It was suddenly five years earlier and you weren’t tied down by rope and duty and bound to a home and husband you wanted nothing to do with. It felt like, for a short impossible moment, that maybe you could start again, maybe want something for yourself.

But James was just as much a part of Hydra as Brock was; maybe even more so because it was his hands carrying out orders. It didn’t matter that the soft hue of bright blue eyes and the sweetness in his smile seemed to contradict everything you knew about him. He was still Hydra.

Realizing you had been staring too long, standing too close, you quickly cleared your throat, stepping back and James let out a heavy sigh, looking just about everywhere around the room but at you.

A sudden knock at the door made you flinch, hand darting to your heart to hold you steady.

“Miss Y/n?” a voice called. Clara. You could smell the homemade soup from across the room.

“Just a moment,” you called back.

You were hidden behind an aisle of books, shielded by the abundance of thick covers and pages, hiding this stolen moment – or whatever it was. You glanced back at James nervously, a silent apology in your eyes and he seemed to understand immediately. It was time for him to leave.

He offered you a short smile, holding up the Bradbury novel in his hand with a slight nod of appreciation, before he quietly slipped from the library. Clara eyed him as he left, keeping a careful distance as she usually did when Brock’s employees were around. When you emerged from behind the row of shelves, she had already set up your tray on the coffee table, folding the napkin into a beautiful design.

“That one’s new around here, isn’t he?” she asked, referring to James, a slight tremor in her voice that came with age. She smiled at you, saying more between the lines, but you knew what she meant.

James didn’t seem to be anything like the other men Rumlow kept company with. He was kind, with bright eyes and a warm smile. He cared about your library and your novels without forcing his way through a conversation for the sake of politeness.

He brought you a book, one from his own home, one he kept since his school days and must have dug through old boxes for, simply because he thought it might make you smile.

He was genuine. It had been a long time since you’d known anything like that within the walls of this home.

And it terrified you.

[hollenka99]

Not The Boy He Once Knew

Summary: Even if he’s not the best at always showing it, Phil cares about his sons. But when one leaves home and goes down a dark path, all Phil wants is for his little soldier boy to come home safely.

Warnings: Death, stabbing

This is based on Obscuritea’s Little Soldier Boy animatic. You can find them on Twitter at @/0bscuritea.

Phil remembered holding his children for the first time. He could have watched Techno's little snout twitch for as long as his eldest would allow him. Wilbur stared at everything, as if it was mandatory for him to visually absorb as much of the world around him as possible. This included the young pig boy hovering by door, unsure whether he wanted to meet the one who was had made him a big brother. Tommy was a wriggler, that was for sure, always trying to get into a better position within the blanket. Wilbur certainly didn't help things when he clambered onto the sofa in order to push himself through the space under Phil's free arm so he could get a better view of the baby.

Many summer afternoons were spent sitting in the shade of trees, watching his sons play with each other. Sometimes, he'd even be out there strumming on his guitar while doing so. The older Wilbur and Techno got, the more they liked to engage in rough play. More than once, Tommy would be happily sitting on his lap before finding himself caught up in the latest rough and tumble session.

One day while his two eldest are 12 and 9 respectively, Phil is horrified to see them return home from a night time adventure in the nearby woods with blood on their person. It would seem that they'd run into a number of zombies and skeletons. Wilbur had tripped and this had caused Techno to make use of his axe. Most of the blood wasn't even theirs so they argued it wasn't a big deal. As Phil retrieves the bread he has on hand for situations like these, he scolds his boys for being reckless. There wouldn't have even been any mobs about if they'd gone out in the day. Just because death was a three strikes and you're out kind of deal didn't mean they could risk injury or worse for the sake of fun. Now, were there any cuts or scrapes they wanted him to look at? Just the one on Techno's snout? Well alright, best get that sorted then off to bed.

During a week where his attention had been directed perhaps everywhere except towards Wilbur, he notices the light is still on in his room. Good. With a knock, he gets invited in. An apology is issued, after which Phil pulls out some wheat and cocoa beans he had lying around. The boy in his early teens acts as if his eyes don't momentarily light up once it clicks what those ingredients are for. When he makes excuses about being too old to be bribed with cookies as well as pointing out that it was getting late, Phil calls his bluff. Come on, let this be his way of saying sorry tonight then he promises tomorrow morning they can have a guitar session, just the two of them. Wilbur rolls his eyes but heads to the kitchen regardless. Phil's glad he does because that is the first time Wilbur plays an original song he was in the process of creating with him as the audience. It was only a shame that incidences like these were becoming few and far between. He wasn't going to catch every time Wilbur felt ignored, especially if the kid slowly stop attempting to get his attention as often in the first place.

It's an odd feeling when Wilbur says his goodbyes. The years have passed so quickly it's hard to believe his little boy isn't quite so little anymore. However, his second son had been a budding musician for as long as he'd had the dexterity for it. It would be impossible to forget how he had beamed with such intensity upon being gifted his first guitar, so much so that Phil had slightly worried he might injure his mouth or jaw somehow. He'll be fine. Phil had nothing to worry about. Besides, Tommy had already made the journey himself a few weeks ago and it sounded like he was already making friends.

Life carries on with Techno helping out with the farming and the occasional correspondence arriving from the other two. When he hears about drugs in a van, he rolls his eyes. Trust them to do something ridiculous like that. It's less humourous when the word 'war' begins to get thrown around. Then shortly afterwards, Techno is leaving to assist his brothers in their endeavours. This results in an argument as Techno packs. By all means, help Wilbur and Tommy but don't get involved in a war that wasn't his to fight. Phil's anxiety regarding his sons' wellbeing grows due to talk of plans to win back L'Manburg after a failed election resulted in an apparent dictatorship. The more days that passed, the stronger his desire to have all his boys back home safely with him grew.

He sits alone at a table that had once been abundant with life. Once again, Tommy has sent him a letter regarding the situation over there. He was getting scared of his brother's apparent obsession with potentially destroying the nation in a blast. Wilbur had even been heard wondering if Phil would be proud of him. Given the current circumstances, he wasn't so sure how to answer. Tommy had even confessed that both he and Wilbur were on their last lives which petrified Phil more than any of the bad news he'd gotten so far. However, his son was right. Enough was enough.

It was time for Phil to make his way to L'Manburg.

He almost finds it funny how Wilbur's voice immediately morphs into the defensiveness of a child as soon as he realises his father has entered his secret detonation room. It was honestly reminiscent of times such as when he got caught stalking a chicken to gain the egg necessary for a pumpkin pie, said pumpkin being dragged behind him by the stalk. However, his son wasn't 4 anymore. Wilbur was a grown man who had proven himself to maintain less than innocent thoughts and motivations.

But Phil was his father nevertheless. And he would talk him out of this 'blow up L'Manburg' plan like others such as Tommy had previously done. Besides, he knew Wilbur. Deep down, that boy didn't have it in him to cause that much destruction, let alone risk instigating any potential loss of life. All he had to do was calmly talk him down.

L'Manburg had been won back. Even with Wilbur yelling in frustration about the several times he came close to pressing the button, that could be seen as a sign of strength. They could agree to not do anything rash then gradually dismantle the vast quantity of TNT hidden in the walls. The notion that Wilbur would risk triggering the button to see if it was actually rigged is so absurd it makes Phil laugh aloud.

He's certainly not in the mood to laugh within a minute of that moment. By the time thirty or so seconds have elapsed, he is on top of his son, both of them on the ground with only dust and rubble left of what had been the secret underground room. Wilbur had been talking about Eret one second before uttering the infamous line of "it was never meant to be" the next. Phil doesn't think it had truly registered in his mind that the explosives were about to go off when he leapt to protect his son from them.

This couldn't be happening. He knew Wilbur, he knew that he would never be capable of blowing up L'Manburg. Except Wilbur was. He... he had.

It's as Wilbur is screaming into the sky about his unfinished symphony remaining forever unfinished that the reality of his personal mistake makes itself known to Phil. Tommy had warned him that Wilbur was going off the rails. He'd said that Phil shouldn't let his guard be lowered around his brother. The second born of their family was currently not to underestimated.

That grin, that sheer ecstasy upon achieving his goal, the way Wilbur revelled in his 'victory'. Well, what more proof did Phil need to know he'd done the exact things he'd been warned against?

He barely has the chance to acknowledge that before Wilbur is demanding the unimaginable from him. No, perhaps 'demand' isn't the right word. Begging might be more appropriate. A sword is tossed at his feet, an invitation for it to be used. He can't though. Not this. Anything but this. The punishment for reversing countless hours of dedicated hard work should not be a death sentence. That simply does not equate.

"God, you're- You're my son! No matter what you do, no matter what you act like, I can't..."

And it's true. This was the kid who would (along with Tommy most of the time) go on epic adventures to claim treats in chests which were placed high up for the exact purpose of deterring such behaviour. He was the one who'd be found sneaking off to the surrounding caves and mines for the sake of exploration. It was him who practised his rallying speech skills on his brothers and father. More than that, Wilbur was a talented musician who liked writing songs and loved his family. He wasn't some irredeemable criminal who deserved to die to pay for the pain he'd caused.

Phil was not going to give Wilbur what he wanted. At least, he was against it until he realised this was about more than punishment or penitence. This was him asking someone he trusted to free him from the burden of all his wrongdoings. Wilbur wanted peace in his life again. And what kind of father would he be if he couldn't give his son that?

He grabs the sword. If he's going to do this, he'd rather make it as fast as possible. The last thing he wants is the suffering of a loved one. Wilbur tenses as the blade finds its way into his chest then exits. The gasps and stuttered breaths are worse than his son begging for death a minute ago. It's okay, he mutters. Just breathe through it. It'll be alright in a moment. Phil doesn't know whether him stroking Wilbur's hair is helping at all but somehow, it's helping Phil himself so that's good enough. The hand gripping his side begins to lose strength. He lets out a grief-stricken groan as he holds his son as tightly as he can.

"You couldn't just let- you couldn't just win?" There is no response, not even a hint of it.

The walls blown apart, he knows everyone can see him. But what does he care? Wilbur's head rests against his father's chest, arms loosely drooping towards the floor and body slumping alongside it. When he inevitably forces himself to let go, to leave the remains of this godforsaken room and... and bury his son's body back home, he's aware he'll have to face the fact his lap is stained with blood. But that can wait for as long as he can delay it.

For now though, he'll sit here with his eyes closed. Maybe that way he can somehow convince himself he's just holding the little boy who loved finding his way into his father's arms whenever he was drowsy, albeit an enlarged version. It's all he can do to keep the tears and questions of how this could have been prevented at bay.

[systemjournal]

Out of context quotes said by alters.

Well, we talk to some people, an' honest to god, our conversations are the fuckin' weirdest. There are all out of context quotes by someone in this system, an' I couldn't tell yous the context even if I tried.

"My hobbies is drawing, writing poems, voice acting, MEMEING, being gay, role-playing, and harrassing people in DMs with pictures or raps."

"Only real men are solidified."

"I dont care about the ballerinas"

"listen. im stucky bot crunchy.." "gushers!"

"No, you overpriced piece of rotten ham."

"EAT HIS MORAL AMBIGIOUS FINGERS"

"hes a nasty little bread boy aint he mr deets"

"Never take Lucky's lucky charms."

"my fuckin caprisun aj is gone im going to sob the rage of a thousand screaming donkeys right after fiona removes puss n boots from the narrative right after takin a royal shit in her shoes i mean how the fuck did she find the right shoe size her feet must be fuckin gigantic and its alarming how she and shrek can find anything in their size can you imagine the pants thick thighs big waist no ass lookin motherclucker"

"I could oppress the youth if I wanted to."

"im gonna cry what food kingdom does seaweed belong to"

"i pimp slapped beethoven you see me yeah hes my bitch now"

"i have been baby too much i kill people now"

"i will delete you"

"shut up you committed tax evasion"

"Petition to include Grandmothers."

"PINATA"

"dont make hair live a life"

"leave the scooter boy alone"

"The war criminal strikes again."

"RATTLE ME BONES AND CALL ME PELVIS"

"i feed the boneless on a saturday evening"

[suzey8888]

“I cannot tell you that Hitler took Austria by tanks and guns; it would distort history. If you remember the plot of the Sound of Music, the Von Trapp family escaped over the Alps rather than submit to the Nazis. Kitty wasn’t so lucky. Her family chose to stay in her native Austria. She was 10 years old, but bright and aware. And she was watching. “We elected him by a landslide – 98 percent of the vote,” she recalls. She wasn’t old enough to vote in 1938 – approaching her 11th birthday. But she remembers. “Everyone thinks that Hitler just rolled in with his tanks and took Austria by force.” No so. Hitler is welcomed to Austria “In 1938, Austria was in deep Depression. Nearly one-third of our workforce was unemployed. We had 25 percent inflation and 25 percent bank loan interest rates. Farmers and business people were declaring bankruptcy daily. Young people were going from house to house begging for food. Not that they didn’t want to work; there simply weren’t any jobs. “My mother was a Christian woman and believed in helping people in need. Every day we cooked a big kettle of soup and baked bread to feed those poor, hungry people – about 30 daily.’ “We looked to our neighbor on the north, Germany, where Hitler had been in power since 1933.” she recalls. “We had been told that they didn’t have unemployment or crime, and they had a high standard of living. “Nothing was ever said about persecution of any group – Jewish or otherwise. We were led to believe that everyone in Germany was happy. We wanted the same way of life in Austria. We were promised that a vote for Hitler would mean the end of unemployment and help for the family. Hitler also said that businesses would be assisted, and farmers would get their farms back. “Ninety-eight percent of the population voted to annex Austria to Germany and have Hitler for our ruler. “We were overjoyed,” remembers Kitty, “and for three days we danced in the streets and had candlelight parades. The new government opened up big field kitchens and everyone was fed. “After the election, German officials were appointed, and, like a miracle, we suddenly had law and order. Three or four weeks later, everyone was employed. The government made sure that a lot of work was created through the Public Work Service. “Hitler decided we should have equal rights for women. Before this, it was a custom that married Austrian women did not work outside the home. An able-bodied husband would be looked down on if he couldn’t support his family. Many women in the teaching profession were elated that they could retain the jobs they previously had been required to give up for marriage. “Then we lost religious education for kids “Our education was nationalized. I attended a very good public school.. The population was predominantly Catholic, so we had religion in our schools. The day we elected Hitler (March 13, 1938), I walked into my schoolroom to find the crucifix replaced by Hitler’s picture hanging next to a Nazi flag. Our teacher, a very devout woman, stood up and told the class we wouldn’t pray or have religion anymore. Instead, we sang ‘Deutschland, Deutschland, Uber Alles,’ and had physical education. “Sunday became National Youth Day with compulsory attendance. Parents were not pleased about the sudden change in curriculum. They were told that if they did not send us, they would receive a stiff letter of warning the first time. The second time they would be fined the equivalent of $300, and the third time they would be subject to jail.” And then things got worse. “The first two hours consisted of political indoctrination. The rest of the day we had sports. As time went along, we loved it. Oh, we had so much fun and got our sports equipment free. “We would go home and gleefully tell our parents about the wonderful time we had. “My mother was very unhappy,” remembers Kitty. “When the next term started, she took me out of public school and put me in a convent. I told her she couldn’t do that and she told me that someday when I grew up, I would be grateful. There was a very good curriculum, but hardly

any fun – no sports, and no political indoctrination. “I hated it at first but felt I could tolerate it. Every once in a while, on holidays, I went home. I would go back to my old friends and ask what was going on and what they were doing. “Their loose lifestyle was very alarming to me. They lived without religion. By that time, unwed mothers were glorified for having a baby for Hitler. “It seemed strange to me that our society changed so suddenly. As time went along, I realized what a great deed my mother did so that I wasn’t exposed to that kind of humanistic philosophy. “In 1939, the war started, and a food bank was established. All food was rationed and could only be purchased using food stamps. At the same time, a full-employment law was passed which meant if you didn’t work, you didn’t get a ration card, and, if you didn’t have a card, you starved to death. “Women who stayed home to raise their families didn’t have any marketable skills and often had to take jobs more suited for men. “Soon after this, the draft was implemented. “It was compulsory for young people, male and female, to give one year to the labor corps,” remembers Kitty. “During the day, the girls worked on the farms, and at night they returned to their barracks for military training just like the boys. “They were trained to be anti-aircraft gunners and participated in the signal corps. After the labor corps, they were not discharged but were used in the front lines. “When I go back to Austria to visit my family and friends, most of these women are emotional cripples because they just were not equipped to handle the horrors of combat. “Three months before I turned 18, I was severely injured in an air raid attack. I nearly had a leg amputated, so I was spared having to go into the labor corps and into military service. “When the mothers had to go out into the work force, the government immediately established child care centers. “You could take your children ages four weeks old to school age and leave them there around-the-clock, seven days a week, under the total care of the government. “The state raised a whole generation of children. There were no motherly women to take care of the children, just people highly trained in child psychology. By this time, no one talked about equal rights. We knew we had been had. “Before Hitler, we had very good medical care. Many American doctors trained at the University of Vienna.. “After Hitler, health care was socialized, free for everyone. Doctors were salaried by the government. The problem was, since it was free, the people were going to the doctors for everything. “When the good doctor arrived at his office at 8 a.m., 40 people were already waiting and, at the same time, the hospitals were full. “If you needed elective surgery, you had to wait a year or two for your turn. There was no money for research as it was poured into socialized medicine. Research at the medical schools literally stopped, so the best doctors left Austria and emigrated to other countries. “As for healthcare, our tax rates went up to 80 percent of our income. Newlyweds immediately received a $1,000 loan from the government to establish a household. We had big programs for families. “All day care and education were free. High schools were taken over by the government and college tuition was subsidized. Everyone was entitled to free handouts, such as food stamps, clothing, and housing. “We had another agency designed to monitor business. My brother-in-law owned a restaurant that had square tables. “Government officials told him he had to replace them with round tables because people might bump themselves on the corners. Then they said he had to have additional bathroom facilities. It was just a small dairy business with a snack bar. He couldn’t meet all the demands. “Soon, he went out of business. If the government owned the large businesses and not many small ones existed, it could be in control. “We had consumer protection, too “We were told how to shop and what to buy. Free enterprise was essentially abolished. We had a planning agency

specially designed for farmers. The agents would go to the farms, count the livestock, and then tell the farmers what to produce, and how to produce it. “In 1944, I was a student teacher in a small village in the Alps. The villagers were surrounded by mountain passes which, in the winter, were closed off with snow, causing people to be isolated. “So people intermarried and offspring were sometimes retarded. When I arrived, I was told there were 15 mentally retarded adults, but they were all useful and did good manual work. “I knew one, named Vincent, very well. He was a janitor of the school. One day I looked out the window and saw Vincent and others getting into a van. “I asked my superior where they were going. She said to an institution where the State Health Department would teach them a trade, and to read and write. The families were required to sign papers with a little clause that they could not visit for 6 months. “They were told visits would interfere with the program and might cause homesickness. “As time passed, letters started to dribble back saying these people died a natural, merciful death. The villagers were not fooled. We suspected what was happening. Those people left in excellent physical health and all died within 6 months. We called this euthanasia. “Next came gun registration. People were getting injured by guns. Hitler said that the real way to catch criminals (we still had a few) was by matching serial numbers on guns. Most citizens were law-abiding and dutifully marched to the police station to register their firearms. Not long afterwards, the police said that it was best for everyone to turn in their guns. The authorities already knew who had them, so it was futile not to comply voluntarily. “No more freedom of speech. Anyone who said something against the government was taken away. We knew many people who were arrested, not only Jews, but also priests and ministers who spoke up. “Totalitarianism didn’t come quickly, it took 5 years from 1938 until 1943, to realize full dictatorship in Austria. Had it happened overnight, my countrymen would have fought to the last breath. Instead, we had creeping gradualism. Now, our only weapons were broom handles. The whole idea sounds almost unbelievable that the state, little by little eroded our freedom.” “This is my eyewitness account. “It’s true. Those of us who sailed past the Statue of Liberty came to a country of unbelievable freedom and opportunity. “America is truly is the greatest country in the world. “Don’t let freedom slip away. “After America, there is no place to go.” Kitty Werthmann ***Re-read the part where she says “everything was free” - healthcare and so on. Very much worth reading twice.****

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 3

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 3: Amelia questions the Shelbys actions as they establish themselves as bookies. 

March 1909

             Polly said that Amelia wasn’t feeling well and wouldn’t be joining the family for dinner. The only one who seemed hung up on this fact was Tommy. The others were happy to go about eating and chatting about their day. As John had predicted, Ada seemed to forget what she was crying about that morning. She was all too excited to tell everyone that she had been the best at double-dutch in the schoolyard. Even better than that no-good-pigtailed-bratty-stuck-up-snob Ingrid.

            Tommy wasn’t too interested in the mundane details of his family’s life. His mind was elsewhere, so he finished dinner quickly and headed upstairs.

            When Amelia arrived, Polly had to rearrange the Shelbys to make room. Tommy had to camp out on the couch a bit longer than he would’ve liked because none of his siblings could agree to any proposed arrangement. John and Ada didn’t want to bunk together. Arthur argued he was the oldest and should have his own room. And none of them wanted to be placed with Finn. Finally, Polly put her foot down. Tommy and John would share a room and that was that.

            But when Tommy passed what once was his room, the door was open and it was empty. He frowned and continued down the cramped hall. The bathroom door was closed and he could hear retching from inside. He lightly knocked on the door. “Mel? Alright?”

            The young woman cleared her throat and stood up from her spot kneeling at the toilet. She rinsed her mouth out in the washbasin and opened the door. “I’m okay.”

            “Sounded like you were getting sick.”

            “It’s normal with the baby.” She assured him; a bit embarrassed that he’d heard her.

            “Oh.” He nodded and could remember times when his mother was ill with his siblings. But he hadn’t thought much of it. She had always put on a brave face for her kids. “Pol said you weren’t feeling well.”

            “Long day, I guess.” She moved past him and went back to the bedroom.

            Tommy followed even if she didn’t really invite him to. He leaned up against the doorframe. “Anything you want to talk about or I could fuck off ‘n leave you be.”

            She laughed softly and waved him into the room. “Close the door, would you?”

            He obliged, going to sit on a chest across from the bed, by the nearly empty desk. Even if it was his room, he didn’t want to invade her privacy.

            Amelia sat down on the bed and leaned down to remove her stockings. She felt so sluggish and weary but couldn’t tell if it really was just because of her busy day or because her mind was a factory of worries. She tossed the stockings toward the hamper and began to unpin her hair.

            “What’s on your mind? You look-concerned.”

            “Do you think that not having your father around really…well, I guess that’s a stupid fucking question. I just…” She groaned when she couldn’t find the words to voice her distress. She realized she wouldn’t get anywhere if she was asking rhetorical questions in some roundabout way. “Do you think that my child will hate me because they won’t know their father? Honestly, be honest.”

            Tommy was surprised. He expected she would go to Polly with such a problem. True, they were longtime friends but what did he know about children and parenthood? “I don’t think your child would hate you for anything? You’ll be a great mother, Mel, you know that.”

            Amelia tipped her head up to the ceiling. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes and she didn’t want them to fall. “I want you to be honest with me, Tom, not to say nice things. We both know nothing in this fucking world is nice.”

            “Hey, now. Look at me. Amelia, look at me.”

            She did so, reluctantly. A tear slipped down her cheek as she met his blue eyes.

            “Yeah, so the world’s a pile of shit. But there are nice things if there weren’t then what would be the point of living, aye?” He pointed out. “I don’t know what your child will say ‘bout anything. But I know that they’ll think the world of you because you did everything for them. That’s something, right?”

            She shook her head. Everything in her wanted to stay miserable. She wanted to torture herself because she felt she deserved it. All of her actions had led her to that moment. She deserved what she got. But Tommy’s words coaxed her gently to a nicer place. A place where there was hope. There was the possibility that she could succeed in raising her child.

            “I’ll say it again but you’ve got a family here. We’re gonna help you out. And-and if I need to step in as some sorta father figure than I will.” He straightened up a bit as he finished. Suddenly determined to take on the challenge he’d thrust upon himself.

            “Tom…”

            “I’m serious.” He reiterated with a half-smile. “I mean, I may not be any good at it, but I’ll try. I said I’d take care of you and I intend on doing that. I’m not some good for nothing like-” He purposefully didn’t finish his thought. It didn’t need to be finished; they both knew they were talking about Arthur Sr. Tommy strove to be the exact opposite of his father. He wouldn’t beat his children, wouldn’t drink their money away, would provide for them, would make sure dinner was always on the table, would give them a sense of safety and love. He could give that to Amelia’s child, they both deserved to be treated well. Why shouldn’t Tommy be the one to do so?

            “I can’t ask you to do that.” Amelia looked hesitant. Would it be nice to have a strong male figure in her child’s life? Of course. She worried what would happen without one. But to put that responsibility on someone else her age? They were both still so young.

            “You don’t have to ask.” He shrugged and stood up. “Are you feeling a bit better? I could see if they spared you any leftovers downstairs.” He offered as if it were the first thing he could do to prove he was fit to help her out.

            She smiled. “Maybe a bit of bread.”  

            “Alright, just be a mo’.”

May 1909

          After his talk with Amelia, Tommy was more intent on setting up the betting shop as soon as they could. The empty place offered so many possibilities in his eyes. Possibilities that could lift him and his family out of poverty. Both he and Arthur knew it would be an uphill battle. There were already plenty of betting shops tucked away in the dark corners of Birmingham and elsewhere. Using fronts as laundry, pubs, or even butchers. Beyond that, there were men who controlled the tracks. They fixed races to their heart’s delight and didn’t take kindly to others who tried to do the same. Without explicit permission, of course. Their bookies were violent and no one in their right mind would go after them. Maybe that’s why everyone thought Arthur and Tommy were mad.

            And perhaps they were, but that didn’t stop them from beginning to take bets out of the shop attached to the flat.

            Polly wanted to be upset that her nephews were bringing trouble so close to their home. But she couldn’t deny the income that they were starting to bring in. It wasn’t much at first, but it was something. Something that could be counted on for groceries or unexpected expenses. And since Tommy and Arthur had stopped attending school around thirteen, they made mistakes with the odds. So, Polly felt she could step in and mind the books better than they could. She never claimed to be a saint.

            Being a charming man meant Tommy could count on a lot of people joining his little setup. People he’d known for years and could trust. Danny Owens was a good friend with a good heart, Freddie Thorne knew him from Greta’s meetings. Jeremiah attended church with Polly but he wasn’t shy of a little criminal behavior to survive. There were others, but there was a hierarchy of trust that Tommy took very seriously. Family always came first.

            But with the betting shop came trouble. Other bookies weren’t so keen that the Shelbys were starting to dip their toes in the business. There was already enough competition in Birmingham alone. So, trouble started to brew.

            It started with just some harassment. A few threats and taunts. The Birmingham Boys apparently weren’t going to chalk the Shelbys up to just some amateurs. Even if there was a whiff of a potential threat, they learned to step in and snuff out the problem.

~~~~~~~~~~~

            That’s why, a few months after the betting shop was established, Tommy was jumped by five men. Luckily, they hadn’t roughed him up too badly. But he did look to be in bad shape when he staggered into the flat. He was limping and held a blood-soaked handkerchief to his nose

            “Tom!” Amelia gasped in horror when he came inside and ran into her at the base of the stairs. Six months pregnant, Polly had warned her to be a bit more cautious when it came to surprises and overexerting herself. But of course, she couldn’t be prepared for everything Tommy decided to get into.

            “S’alright, s’alright.” He grunted and made his way into the kitchen. He was certain one of his ribs was broken and his nose might have been too. It hadn’t exactly been a fair fight. He was taken completely by surprise as five of the Birmingham Boys popped out around a dark corner and immediately pummeled him to the ground. Once the initial blow wore off, Tommy tried to fight back but there wasn’t much use. Had Arthur been there, maybe they would’ve had a chance. But alone, he was knocked to the ground and had his ribs kicked in as the older men shouted slurs at him.

            “What happened?” She followed him, still in shock.

            “Got attacked.” He answered through the cloth over his nose and mouth. He went to the water pump and tried to get it going but the pain in his side was too much. He winced in pain and stifled a yelp.

            Amelia quickly dragged a chair over to the pump and made him sit. She filled up the basin with a bit of water and found a dishcloth to use. “Can I see?”

            Tommy removed the bloodied handkerchief. The blood seemed to have ebbed by the time he limped home.

            She carefully began to wipe the blood away from his face. “What else hurts?” She asked. They could talk about what happened when she was sure he was okay.

            “Me ribs.” He rested a hand over the painful spot.

            “Alright, well, let me clean you up and I can have a look.”

            Tommy took a few deep breaths. His heart was still racing and of course he was still pissed off that he’d been bested. Of course, he could take some solace that he was severely outnumbered and at a disadvantage. Still, it bruised his ego.

            Amelia tried to lighten the mood a bit. “You looked like this after you beat up Ben Hearn because he kissed me.”

            It drew a smile from him as he remembered the event from when they were around ten-years-old. Tommy was heartbroken when he heard around school that Ben had kissed his best friend and secret crush. But when he got word that Amelia hadn’t wanted to kiss Ben in the first place, Tommy decided to get retribution. Ben had gotten a lucky punch and made Tommy’s nose bleed. But that only angered him more to the point where Arthur had to pull his younger brother off the other boy because it looked like Tommy had murder in his eyes.  

            “You knocked out his tooth.”

            Tommy shook his head. “I knocked out two of his teeth.” He corrected with a familiar smirk. “And he deserved it.”

            Amelia sighed. “You were always getting into trouble back then. I thought maybe it would change when we got older but…” She rinsed the cloth and watched the red water trickle into the basin. “Maybe this betting shop idea is too dangerous.”

            “Mel-”

            “I know why you’re doing it, and I admire your initiative but you have to know what you might be risking. Money won’t do us any good if you’re injured or-”

            “It’s alright. You don’t have to worry.”

            She hung the wet cloth against the side of the basin and turned back toward him. “Tom, if you’re coming home like this then I think I have a reason to be worried!” She exclaimed.

            “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll sort it out.” He promised.

            Amelia wanted to scold him further but didn’t have the heart to. Besides, once Tommy set his mind to something, there wasn’t much hope for swaying him. Getting beat up never stopped him before, it likely wouldn’t stop him in the future. “You said your ribs hurt too?” She asked quietly.

            He nodded.

            “I can take a look at them but if they’re broken you ought to go see a doctor.” She washed any stray stains of blood off her hands and the washbasin.

            “Can’t afford a doctor right now.” Tommy stood up with a grunt and returned the chair to the table. He didn’t want Polly asking questions the next morning if she found the kitchen in disarray.

            “What do you mean? I thought Arthur said you had a good week. Said you had extra money.” Amelia dried her hands.

            “We did.”

            “So, where’s the money?” She questioned further.

            “I spent it.” Tommy grabbed a bottle of stout and uncorked it.

            “On what?”

            “You’ll see tomorrow, Mel.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

            The next day was Saturday and Amelia had the day off. She watched over John and Ada to give Polly a well-needed break.

            The weather was unseasonably warm so she took the two kids outside to play so they wouldn’t be cooped up indoors. Amelia sat on the steps darning one of her stockings while Ada skipped rope and John played football in the street with other neighborhood kids.

            There was a small group of people next door waiting to place bets for the next day’s race. To the untrained eye, they looked fairly inconspicuous. Amelia hadn’t asked what might happen if the cops would catch wind of the operation. No one mentioned it, so she assumed they either had it handled or intentionally didn’t want to think about it. Still, Polly had instilled in everyone that if the police were to come around, no one knew a thing about betting shops.

            “S'cuse me miss, is Tommy Shelby ‘round?”

            Amelia looked up from her stockings and smiled. “Danny?”

            The young man’s face broke into a look of disbelief. “Mellie? Is that you?” He removed his hat and got closer. “Tom said you’d come back; wasn’t sure I’d recognize you.” Danny Owens had been a longtime friend of the Shelbys. As a boy he was much taller than anyone in class but was quite awkward and quiet. He was from a very poor family, just like the rest of them. He was painfully shy from growing up with an abusive father. But once Tommy and Arthur took him under their wing, he became a bit more confident. He wasn’t much for fighting but if it was necessary to protect his friends, he would step in. Though, most kids wouldn’t even try to fight him because of his size and broad shoulders.

            Yet, Amelia had always known him as someone with a gentle side. “It’s been a while.” She agreed. “How’s your family?”

            “They’re good. Yeah, everyone’s good.” Danny fidgeted with his hat as he spoke to her.  

            She could tell he didn’t really want to talk about his family which was all well and good. Amelia didn’t want to talk about hers either. “You were after Tommy?”

            “You haven’t seen him ‘round have you?”

            “He should be in the shop. You can go through the kitchen if you’d like.” Amelia scooted to the side so Danny could get by.         

            “Thanks, Mel. Glad you’re back.” He smiled and walked into the flat.

            As he passed, she noticed his knuckles were bruised and there was a bit of blood smeared over the top of his hand. It sent a shiver down her spine as she realized it wasn’t just Tommy getting into trouble. Everyone she once knew as a child was getting caught up in this violence. It might’ve been small skirmishes, akin to the ones they used to get into in the schoolyard. But Amelia reasonably knew that there were much larger stakes at risk. None of them labeled their actions as organized crime, but that’s what it was. Amelia had heard about large scale gangs in London who controlled a lot more than just horse races. They had control over pubs and other businesses, paid off the police, and there were rumors that they had influence over government too.

            She wasn’t sure that was Tommy’s end game but she also didn’t know if he had any control over that. Could someone remove themselves from the lifestyle? Or were they in it for life?

            With a sigh, she set her stockings aside and checked on John and Ada across the street. There were so many questions about the future that she couldn’t even try to begin to answer. All she could do was see what came of it.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

            That same night, Amelia was in the kitchen making dinner while Ada rattled on about how she was going to go riding tomorrow and how Uncle Charlie might let her try to jump.

            The front door opened and Tommy poked his head inside. “Mel?” He called.

            “In the kitchen!” She replied.

            “Right, stay there, don’t come upstairs ‘til I say.”

            She raised an eyebrow but listened and continued peeling potatoes while Ada went on about horses.

            There were a few bumps against the wall and the staircase railing after the front door shut.

            “Fucking hell, this thing weighs a ton!” Arthur cursed.

            “Oi, be careful.” Tommy chided.

            “Be careful? It’s gonna damage me ‘fore I damage it!”

            A couple bangs and thumps and swears later, Tommy called Amelia upstairs.

            She and Ada went up and found him and Arthur in the bedroom. She looked confused until she saw the cot in the corner. Her mouth popped open in shock. “Tom?”

            He smiled a bit sheepishly. “For the baby.”

            “But I thought…I thought we would just move Finn’s in here.” She walked over to the new piece of furniture.

            “That thing’s older than any of us.” He shook his head. “Ought to toss it once Finn’s done with it.”

            Amelia ran a hand over the smooth oak wood. It was pristine, no nicks, or peeling varnish to be found. There were even intricate designs in the solid wood side and legs. She felt herself getting teary-eyed. She was didn’t even notice as Arthur herded Ada out of the room and back downstairs. “This is what you spent the money on?” She asked.

            Tommy nodded and shrugged. “The baby needs one, so why not?”

            She sniffled and went to hug him tightly. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

            He hugged her back, feeling a sense of accomplishment. Then adoration swept over him. He hadn’t realized how much he loved making Amelia happy. He was always fond of her, but seeing her smile was one of the best things to see, in his opinion. Maybe he was still too young to know what love was, but he had a hunch that what he was feeling was love.

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