#the new york house of refuge

[glitter-ink]

PORTRAITS of the REFUGE FACULTY.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

The Island Teachers & Instructors, the Vocational School & Divinity School Teachers, the Preachers to the Island, and a Group of Eminent ex-teachers. 1893-1899.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

(character inspiration)

[revoltedstates]

Some of you may know that one of my focus areas of Civil War research is the military service of former reformatory inmates. I was recently amazed to stumble across this image of the officers and NCOs of Co. I, 38th New York Infantry. The drummer boy is Lewis Simons, a young German Jewish immigrant who spent time incarcerated at the NY House of Refuge for vagrancy prior to the war. Simons was just 14-15 when he enlisted in 1861. He ended his service in 1865 as a corporal in the 34th New Jersey. More info about Simons' life and service can be found at the Shapell Roster of Jewish Service in the American Civil War.

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #14

April 12-19 2024

The Department of Commerce announced a deal with Samsung to help bring advanced semiconductor manufacturing and research and development to Texas. The deal will bring 45 billion dollars of investment to Texas to help build a research center in Taylor Texas and expand Samsung's Austin, Texas, semiconductor facility. The Biden Administration estimates this will create 21,000 new jobs. Since 1990 America has fallen from making nearly 40% of the world's semiconductor to just over 10% in 2020.

The Department of Energy announced it granted New York State $158 million to help support people making their homes more energy efficient. This is the first payment out of a $8.8 billion dollar program with 11 other states having already applied. The program will rebate Americans for improvements on their homes to lower energy usage. Americans could get as much as $8,000 off for installing a heat pump, as well as for improvements in insulation, wiring, and electrical panel. The program is expected to help save Americans $1 billion in electoral costs, and help create 50,000 new jobs.

The Department of Education began the formal process to make President Biden's new Student Loan Debt relief plan a reality. The Department published the first set of draft rules for the program. The rules will face 30 days of public comment before a second draft can be released. The Administration hopes the process can be finished by the Fall to bring debt relief to 30 million Americans, and totally eliminate the debt of 4 million former students. The Administration has already wiped out the debt of 4.3 million borrowers so far.

The Department of Agriculture announced a $1 billion dollar collaboration with USAID to buy American grown foods combat global hunger. Most of the money will go to traditional shelf stable goods distributed by USAID, like wheat, rice, sorghum, lentils, chickpeas, dry peas, vegetable oil, cornmeal, navy beans, pinto beans and kidney beans, while $50 million will go to a pilot program to see if USAID can expand what it normally gives to new products. The food aid will help feed people in Bangladesh, Burkina Faso, Burundi, Chad, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Djibouti, Ethiopia, Haiti, Kenya, Madagascar, Mali, Nigeria, Rwanda, South Sudan, Sudan, Tanzania, Uganda, and Yemen.

The Department of the Interior announced it's expanding four national wildlife refuges to protect 1.13 million wildlife habitat. The refuges are in New Mexico, North Carolina, and two in Texas. The Department also signed an order protecting parts of the Placitas area. The land is considered sacred by the Pueblos peoples of the area who have long lobbied for his protection. Security Deb Haaland the first Native American to serve as Interior Secretary and a Pueblo herself signed the order in her native New Mexico.

The Department of Labor announced new work place safety regulations about the safe amount of silica dust mine workers can be exposed to. The dust is known to cause scaring in the lungs often called black lung. It's estimated that the new regulations will save over 1,000 lives a year. The United Mine Workers have long fought for these changes and applauded the Biden Administration's actions.

The Biden Administration announced its progress in closing the racial wealth gap in America. Under President Biden the level of Black Unemployment is the lowest its ever been since it started being tracked in the 1970s, and the gap between white and black unemployment is the smallest its ever been as well. Black wealth is up 60% over where it was in 2019. The share of black owned businesses doubled between 2019 and 2022. New black businesses are being created at the fastest rate in 30 years. The Administration in 2021 Interagency Task Force to combat unfair house appraisals. Black homeowners regularly have their homes undervalued compared to whites who own comparable property. Since the Taskforce started the likelihood of such a gap has dropped by 40% and even disappeared in some states. 2023 represented a record breaking $76.2 billion in federal contracts going to small business owned by members of minority communities. This was 12% of federal contracts and the President aims to make it 15% for 2025.

The EPA announced (just now as I write this) that it plans to add PFAS, known as forever chemicals, to the Superfund law. This would require manufacturers to pay to clean up two PFAS, perfluorooctanoic acid and perfluorooctanesulfonic acid. This move to force manufacturers to cover the costs of PFAS clean up comes after last week's new rule on drinking water which will remove PFAS from the nation's drinking water.

Bonus:

President Biden met a Senior named Bob in Pennsylvania who is personally benefiting from The President's capping the price of insulin for Seniors at $35, and Biden let Bob know about a cap on prosecution drug payments for seniors that will cut Bob's drug bills by more than half.

[fatehbaz]

Some updates from the past twelve-ish months:

-- Late 2022: Portland and its mayor (Wheeler) started a major push to ban "street camping". Headlines in major media outlets also described "Portland's first sanctioned mass homeless camp" and how "Portland moves forward with $27 million plan to build mass shelters". In December 2022, Portland-area authorities used the so-called "aggressive landscaping" tactic, installing hundreds of hostile architecture boulders to prevent sitting/sleeping. Also in December, homeless advocates and Disability Rights Washington advocates attempted to halt Spokane's (Washington) clearing of a major camp for hundreds of people, and a federal judge sided with advocates to put a temporary restraining order on the sweep.

-- January 2023: Even in the immediate aftermath of historic cold as far south as Miami and Monterrey, sub-freezing temperatures across the Deep South, and sub-zero-Fahrenheit blizzards sweeping North America for a week or longer around Solstice/Christmas 2022, convenience stores "in Texas, California, New York use classical music to shoo homeless".

-- By March 2023: "Portland Mayor Wheeler unveils first location for city-run homeless camp".

-- April 2023: San Francisco and Mayor Brand announce a major "five-year plan" costing over 600 million dollars "to cut the number of unsheltered homeless in half". (Not a plan to put people in homes or find stable housing, but just to technically put them under the roof of shelter, keeping them out of sight, therefore qualifying them for the strange designation of "the sheltered homeless".) At the same time, San Francisco opened a "long-term homeless shelter on Treasure Island", pushing homeless people onto an isolated island mostly composed of concrete and asphalt.

-- Summer 2023: In May, the city of Phoenix (Arizona) began its project to clear and eliminate its largest homeless camp, known as the Zone, a refuge for hundreds of people. During the record-breaking heat of the summer of 2023, Phoenix cleared the camp systematically, block by block. At the beginning of September 2023, as "Phoenix breaks heat record as city hits 110F [110 degrees Fahrenheit] for the 54th consecutive day", the city cleared the block of the camp where most seniors and the elderly lived.

-- January 2024: About one week ahead of winter holidays (Solstice/Christmas), the City of Edmonton pursued plans to sweep 130 homeless encampments as part of what has been described as a "shocking" eviction plan. In January, the city was clearing camps amidst sustained deadly severe weather, during a polar vortex event with temperatures of negative 50 degrees Fahrenheit and daytime highs of negative 25F. When a court case presented by Coalition for Justice and Human Rights tried to slow the sweeps, a judge sided with them and shut down the evictions.

-- March 2024: Florida's governor signs a new law. NPR describes: "law that seeks to move unhoused people off public property altogether and into government-run encampments".

-- April 2024: The U.S. Supreme Court begins hearing a case from Grants Pass (Oregon) with major implications and potential to incite nationwide "banishment race" and "homelessness crackdown". Lower courts have previously said that city policies (like Grants Pass, Boise, and others) were "cruel and unusual" for fining and/or jailing people for sleeping on public land if no adequate accessible shelter is available. But now?

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week - November 28, 2023

🐑 - Why did Fiona the sheep become a mountaineer? She was tired of the "baa-d" jokes at sea level!

1. Pope Francis dines with transgender women for Vatican luncheon

Pope Francis hosted a group of transgender women — many of whom are sex workers or migrants from Latin America — to a Vatican luncheon for the Catholic Church's "World Day of the Poor" last week.

The pontiff and the transgender women have formed a close relationship since the pope came to their aid during the COVID-19 pandemic, when they were unable to work. Now, they meet monthly for VIP visits with the pope and receive medicine, money and shampoo any day, according to The Associated Press.

2. New York just installed its first offshore wind turbine

The first wind turbine installation at South Fork Wind, New York State’s first offshore wind farm, is complete.

The 130-megawatt (MW) South Fork Wind will be the US’s first completed utility-scale wind farm in federal waters.

3. Anonymous businessman donates $800k to struggling food bank

But this Thanksgiving, a longtime prayer of food bank leaders was finally answered: an anonymous benefactor donated the full $800,000 they needed to move out of a facility they've long outgrown. That benefactor, however, preferred to stay anonymous.

"Very private company, really don't want attention," said Debbie Christian, executive director of the Auburn Food Bank. "It's a goodhearted person that just wants to see the work here continue, wants to see it expand."

4. Empowering woman saving hopes and mental health of suffering Ukrainian kids

Kenza Hadij-Brahim is at the forefront of promoting Circle of Toys

Hadj-Brahim is helping to launch the Circle of Toys initiative. A project that provides Ukrainian children in need of some normality with preloved toys. This new initiative connects people with old toys they might otherwise throw away, with Ukrainian families in need who want to provide some comfort to their children in this distressing time.

Find Refuge said : “The endeavour is driven by a sincere purpose: spark joy, foster play, and bring a hint of normalcy back to the young lives in Ukraine.”

5. TWO LOST CITIES HIDDEN FOR CENTURIES WERE JUST DISCOVERED IN BOLIVIA

Researchers have found these areas not only housed structures and pyramids but it has been uncovered that there were advanced irrigation systems, earthworks, large towns, causeways, and canals that cover miles.

Dr. Heiko Prümers from the German Archaeological Institute, who was also involved in the study comments that “this indicated a relatively dense settlement in pre-Hispanic times. Our goal was to conduct basic research and trace the settlements and life there. The research sheds light on the sheer magnitude and magnificence of the civic-ceremonial centers found buried in the forest”.

6. Sheep dubbed Fiona rescued from cliff in Scotland where she was stuck for more than 2 years

And at last, some positive climate news:

7. Three positive climate developments

Heating

When the Paris Agreement was adopted, the global reliance on fossil fuels placed the world on a path towards a 3.5C rise in temperature by 2100. Eight years on, country commitments to reduce their carbon footprints have pulled that down slightly, putting the world on a path for a 2.5C to 2.9C by the end of the century.

Peak emissions

Annual greenhouse gas emissions responsible for climate change have risen roughly nine percent since COP21, according to UN data. But the rate of the increase has slowed significantly. Recent estimates by the Climate Analytics institute find global emissions could peak by 2024

Rising renewables

Three technologies—solar, wind and electric vehicles—are largely behind the improved global warming estimates since 2015.

---

That's it for this week :)

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Also don’t forget to reblog this post with your friends.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crash and Burn 2

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Tony Stark

Summary: a powerful man comes crashing into your life. Literally.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Darlene, you never did have sense!” Your grandmother yawls.  

Your eyes roll to the ceiling and settle on the wall. Your mother snarls back, “it wasn’t my fault!” 

“It never is your fault, is it? But it’s always my mess to clean up.” The old woman barks. 

You sigh and turn off the lamp. Despite the devastation of your home, the rest of your life remains in place. You have a shift at the deli and you can’t afford to miss a single minute now. You know your grandma won’t put up with you for long. You don’t think you can stand her either. 

The venomous back and forth continues as you pull a pillow over your head. It’s impossible to drown out. When it stops, your mom crashes through the door and stomps around. Your adrenaline spikes again. You haven’t really calmed down since the trailer folded into dust. 

She flops onto the bed and scrolls through her phone. The brightness seeps in below the edge of the pillow. The double futon isn’t very spacious. 

The speaker crackles and she cackles at some shitty video. The noise has you rolling to face the wall. She’s so oblivious. Or maybe she doesn’t give the shit. It’s not so different than the trailer. She never did try to keep it down. 

You get no peace even as she falls asleep. She snores like a broken lawn mower. You toss and turn as your grandmother’s cigarette smoke tickles your throat. 

Your life wasn’t grand before. The double-wide was no palace but it was better than this. You huff and give in to insomnia. You stare at the ceiling as frustration boils to rage. 

You can still hear his laughter. Tony Stark is in his fancy robotic suit with his overpriced haircut and blatant nonchalance. He didn’t give a shit that he just destroyed a home. To him, the idea of living in that is laughable. And laugh he did. 

The echo of his amusement irks you until you can no longer lay still. You shimmy to the bottom of the bed and climb off. You snatch your phone from the charger and pace around. The floor creaks under your feet. 

Didn’t he say he’d replace it? Maybe some things can’t be bought but you still own the lot, at least for another month. You just need something to put there. He said so. He owes you. 

So, where the heck is your trailer? 

You push your thumb down without thinking. You type, letting the vitriol stream out of your thumbs.  

‘Tony Stark destroyed my home and my life.  

Right now, I’m at my grandma’s house. Again. Me and my mom have been forced to seek refuge in her guest room. The smell of tobacco and cat piss is so pungent I could choke. I can’t sleep on the futon shared between the both of us and in the morning, I’ll turn in for a minimum-wage job and when I get my check, I still won’t be able to replace what he ruined. 

Four walls. That’s all we had and now we have nothing. Because that playboy, billionaire, douchebag didn’t look where he was flying. He may have saved New York but he has burnt our life to the ground. Literally.’ 

You attach one of the photos you snagged of the wreck. You took as many as you could hoping that the park might be able to use it for an insurance claim. Your heart thumps as you hit post. The little blue line fills up and the check mark flashes. 

You feel better. It’s always nice to be able to vent your problems and you can’t do so with your mom. She’ll just pick apart your words until it’s your fault. And your grandma can’t be bothered to listen either. She would only rant about how she’s stuck with a bunch of losers. 

You plug your phone back in and crawl back onto the futon, fitting in between your mom and the wall. You can get a few hours in before you have to drag yourself to the deli. Tony Stark can take whatever he wants but he won’t steal any more of your sleep. 

After another bout of restlessness, you sink into a shallow haze. You awake with a stone behind your forehead. You take some Advil as you climb out of bed. Your mom continues to snore as you dress in the musty clothes borrowed from your grandma. She’ll begrudge you those along with that the water you use to shower and brush your teeth. 

You leave the house in silence. You yawn and light up your phone on the way to the bus stop. You have to transfer from this route to your usual.  

Huh. That can’t be right. 50k? That’s absurd. You press down on the notification and it brings up your post. 

Oh. It’s real. Your post has blown up. Fifty-thousand. That’s pretty good but it’s hardly viral. If anything, the fanfiction girlies probably think it’s a fic preview. 

You put your phone away as the bus approaches. You dumb a handful of change in the machine as you board and find a seat near the front. Your head bobbles as your eyes droop. Now you can sleep. Huh. 

You open the deli as usual. You set to slicing the days orders and get the breads in the oven. The doors unlock just after eight and the usual customers mill in. When John gets there after ten, you step aside to check your phone. 

No way. A million. It’s impossible. 

It doesn’t matter anyway. A post on the internet isn’t going to get you your trailer back. It will die out soon enough. Maybe you should just delete it. No, that feels wrong. A shitty thing happened and you have a right to be unhappy about it. So, you will and you’ll scream it at your phone screen. 

You put your phone back in your apron and go back to work. The virtual world doesn’t matter. Esther wants her turkey breast. 

[straight-from-gaza]

Following Israeli relentless bombing on northern Gaza in October, around 1.2 million Palestinians now seek refuge in Rafah, a city home to approximately 250,000 residents.

With a population density of 20,000 people per square kilometer, Rafah is nearly twice as densely populated as New York City. Approximately half of Rafah's population consists of children, many of whom have experienced multiple displacements and are living in tents or unstable housing.

(Source: QUDS News)

[softdoctorreid]

warm hugs | spencer reid

summary: another agent makes a comment about spencer’s ‘dad-bod’, but how can he want to change that when being a dad is his favorite thing? anon requested platonic dad-bod spence whose kid says he’s comfy like a teddy bear 🥺🧸

• mentions of body image, food

+++     +++     +++

When your name lit up on his phone, it was a welcome sight in the midst of a day that had Spencer feeling down. “Spence, I’m so sorry,” you said. “I’m gonna be stuck at work a little later today. Could you pick Lily up from school?”

“Of course. Is everything okay?” he asked, leaning back against the wall of the empty office he’d taken refuge in.

“Yeah, just a last-minute meeting, it’s all good. How about I pick up some dinner and dessert on the way home as a treat?” He hesitated, and while he was the profiler in the relationship, you’d gotten good at reading him over the years. “Babe, is everything okay with you? You’ve never thought about turning down something sweet before.”

“No, it’s fine,” he said, trying to backpedal. “I don’t know, it was just a stupid comment another agent made.”

“What did they say?”

“Just pointing out that I don’t look the way I did a few years ago. Something about domesticity and putting on weight.”

Agent Hill had once been an assistant agent around the BAU bullpen until his transfer up to the New York Office. A training seminar had him back in the area for the first time in years, and he’d popped by Quantico to make a round of reunions. While he was chatting with everyone and making quips, he’d locked eyes on Spencer. “SSA Reid,” he’d said. “Haven’t seen you in a while! Looks like there’s a little more of you to see, huh? Domestic life must be treating you well.”

Spencer knew it was meant to be some sort of joke, but it didn’t lessen the way he felt suddenly too much, too conscious of the little extra weight he’d been carrying around his midsection since their daughter Lily had been a baby. It wasn’t something that normally bothered him, but then again it wasn’t something other people normally commented on, outside of you resting your head on his tummy and waxing poetic about how comfortable he was.

Spencer pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he drove to the school. Lily was always a welcome distraction from whatever he was ruminating on, but the way the four-year old was frowning in the backseat demanded particular attention. Her answers about her day were short and vague, unlike her usual cheerful self. It wasn’t until they got home that he finally got her to admit what was on her mind.

“I just wanted to finish my book during nap time, but Teacher got mad at me and she said I wasn’t allowed. The she took it for the rest of the day. It wasn’t fair,” she grumbled. “I just wanted to read my book!”

Spencer would talk to her later about rules, and maybe try to get permission from her teacher to let her read instead, but that could wait. Right now he just needed to get his little girl out of this funk.

“So you had a bad day, huh? And you’ve got some bad feelings now?”

Lily nodded, sticking out her lip in a perfect pout.

“Then I guess it’s up to me to turn that frown…” - he snatched her up in his arms, maneuvering her over his shoulder - “upside down!” Holding tight to her he spun them around until she was giggling, her little feet flailing, hands clutching at his sweater.

The moment he dropped her back onto the couch he began to tickle her, ensuring her laughter had no chance to subside. When she seemed to have tired herself out from laughing he finally let up. “That’s much better, isn’t it?” he asked. “I like seeing your smile. So tell me, what would help make these bad feelings go away?”

Lily thought for a moment, pressing her lips together in a thin line the exact way her father did when he was deep in concentration. “Can we make brownies? And maybe watch the Elsa movie?”

“Of course we can.” Both tasks had once been a challenge for him, but he’d learned to make a box mix without burning the house down over the years, and had long since surrendered to the fact that he could not escape the endless loop of children’s movies. While Frozen was ingrained in his memory after the first watch, he learned to tolerate the repeat watches and soundtrack plays for the joy it brought to his daughter. She in fact treated him to her own rendition of the songs while they stirred the brownie mix, her energetic demeanor returning as he probed her with questions about the movie’s characters and what was happening in her favorite books. Just before he placed them in the oven, she insisted on adding handfuls of brightly colored sprinkles into the mix, saying it was a magic ingredient.

Lily insisted on changing into a pair of pajamas with Anna and Elsa on them while Spencer set up a cozy nest of blankets and pillows on the living room couch. He started the movie while the brownies baked, slipping away to take them out of the oven while Anna sang about the impending coronation. With one brownie on a plate and two cups of hot cocoa, he returned to her side on the couch. “Here you are, princess,” he said with a small bow, placing the plate in front of her.

“Where’s yours?” Lily asked.

“Oh, I’ll have one later,” he lied. “After all, princesses have first dibs.” The truth was he hadn’t stopped thinking about Agent Hill’s comment. Maybe it was time to get back in shape, shed the new-dad weight he’d never quite lost. That would mean cutting back on sugar - his favorite of the food groups - and the time he spent lying on the couch instead of hitting the gym.

Lily inched close to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, her head resting on the top of his tummy. Spencer pulled the blanket up over her and draped an arm around her. It was his job to make her feel better, but cuddling with her on the couch was helping to dispel his own sour mood as well.

 “I think Olaf would like your hugs, Papa,” she told him. “You give the best hugs.”

“Is that right?” he asked.

She nodded, the movement tugging his shirt. “Yeah. I like hugging you. You’re soft.” That kernel of shame swelled up again at the comment only a child could make with such innocent bluntness. “And warm. Good for snuggling. You’re like a teddy bear! I love teddies, but I love you better, Papa.” As if for emphasis, she squeezed him in a tighter hug.

That bit of shame immediately began to melt at her words. Lily continued, her eyes never leaving the screen. “Cuz you can do all the things a teddy can’t, and you make brownies with me and you carry me when I’m tired and you’re the most comfy ever. That’s why your hugs are magic.”

They sat on the couch, Lily enraptured by the movie on the screen, and Spencer ruminating over her words. Warm, soft, good for snuggling. Wasn’t that what you were always saying too?

“Papa, are you going to eat a brownie?” Lily asked. “I put the sprinkles in so they’d be extra good!” The puppy dog-eyed pout was another expression she’d picked up from him, and he just couldn’t resist this time. Maybe he didn’t need to. He ventured back into the kitchen, returning with three brownies on the plate. She watched as he took the first bite.

“You’re right!” he told her. “These are the best brownies I’ve ever had!” And they certainly were when saying so produced such a huge smile on Lily’s face. She returned to her position snuggling up with him and he was content to indulge in the sweet treats before them. So maybe it wouldn’t help with the problem of his tummy, but maybe it wasn’t such a problem after all. How could it be when that softness was something his daughter and partner found endearing? If his hugs could make Lily happier and eating desserts was a moment he could share with her, why would he want to change that?

His body was proof of the thing he was proudest of in his life - being a dad. A dad who was always there, who loved lazy weekends snuggled up with his family and treating Lily to sweets she always offered to share with him. He loved that he was someone his daughter felt safe with, that his arms could offer comfort on the bad days and the good days and all the days in-between. 

When you returned home, you found them like that on the couch watching the end of the movie, Spencer caught red-handed with a brownie in his hand. Lily rushed over to greet you with a hug, happily babbling about her day as Spencer quickly finished the brownie before walking over to join you.

Distracted by the closing credits, Lily wandered back to the couch to sing along while Spencer welcomed you home with a kiss.

“Mm, you taste like chocolate. So you’re not still upset about that comment today?” you asked.

Spencer shrugged. “I don’t want to cut out the things that make life sweeter. Lily says my tummy makes me good to hug. Like a teddy bear. How could I give that up?”

You smiled. “She’s right, of course. I mean, I liked hugging you even when you were practically a bean pole. But you are much more comfortable with a little extra padding.” You gave his belly an encouraging pat. “And it’s nice to have more of you to hold onto.”

So his cardigans were a size larger these days, and he had to buckle his belts a couple notches looser than he had before. But those were signs his life had changed, his world had grown, filled by the presence of so much love and sweetness. Maybe there was a little more of him now, but he didn’t care so long as he had a little more to love in his life.

+++

tell me what you think here!

[tainted-liquor]

☆‧₊˚Cat N' Spider ⋆.˚[1.7.24]- e42!Miles x Reader 🕸˖°.TWs || Miles is lowkey a pottymouthhh

What makes a villain? Is it their frigid, pompous attitude tailored to mask that sentimental wound from past trauma? Or is it the narcissistic qualities that wash away the blood of the innocent from their fleeting, voided sense of memory? No matter the man or lady behind the mask, they all unite under one common umbrella- shielding themselves from the icy rainwater that forces them to heed the treacherous callback from the rain…

A desperate covet to be acknowledged…no…remembered.

Villains aren’t born; they’re created. There was no such thing as “good” or “bad”, there was survival, and there were morals. And when you were only thirteen, you became the victim of a team of scientists determined to create a “better” world for you and the Brooklyn, New York population. So emerged Plan 42-J, where a spider was sucked up from your world and engineered on another.

And when that spider found itself back in your world, guess whose teeth it found refuge in?

Little old you!

“Yeah…I’ll be there at like seven. You want somethin’ from the store?” Your boyfriend, Miles grunted, his scarred and sculpted shoulder blades facing the camera as he made himself look presentable in his bathroom mirror. “Uhhh, you don’t have to…Actually, wait, get me a pineapple Fanta and some chips,” you muttered, tugging on your pretty little red Converse with as much force as physically possible. 

“Bet–...I might be a little late actually,” Miles sighed, turning around to face the camera and picking up his phone as he began to tap away at the miniature keyboard. Your face pulled into a deep frown, jet black brows furrowing as you pulled your face up from the invisible string connecting you and your shoelaces. “Miles, come on now…this is like the hundredth time you were late to shit we planned!” You grunted, rolling your eyes in slight sorrow and annoyance.

“I know, I know. I’ll try to wrap this shit up as fast as possible, I’m sorry mama” he sighed, running an exasperated hand across his face. “It’s just thirty minutes, ok?” He reassured, his gentle and wispy eyelashes batting softly as he toyed with the gifted gold-clad locket that nestled perfectly between his collarbones. You sighed, pressing the end-call button before falling backward on your couch, sinking into the comfy beige cotton and sighing deeply.

It wasn’t even 20 minutes before you were prompted to spring up from your couch, turning on the TV to monitor whatever was happening in Brooklyn today. Crime rates are dropping, cities are being rebuilt, and smiles are all around. A sense of gratitude washed over you– you weren’t too fond of being Spider-Girl ever since you found out about HQ, but it made ‘fixing�� your world much more satisfying.

But alas, good things don’t last forever. The news reporters' eyes widened as they cupped their ears with what looked like shock and fear, cutting themselves off mid-script to announce a new threat down Kings Plaza. “Oh hold on– give me just a second, Brent, but we’re just now receiving word that the infamous ‘Prowler’ has been spotted down at the abandoned Kings Plaza shopping outlet. Witnesses say he was seen breaking through the window of the old building, presumably chasing after a taller man.”

You groaned loudly, throwing two unfortunate pillows off the couch as you stomped back upstairs to throw on your crimson and white Spider-Suit. “Stupid fucking prowler…ruining my fuckin’ date night,” you grumbled, angrily pulling the mask over your face before calling out to your mom.  “Hey, mom? I’m gonna make a store run before Miles gets here! I'm gonna grab ingredients for cookies!” You shouted, quickly opening and closing the door so it’d seem like you left the house.

You slipped out the back window, climbing your way up the fire escape before swinging through the night, wind cascading across your masked face, taking deep gulps of air through your nostrils. Your blood boiled like overboiled soup stock, salt and muck bubbling to the surface as you grumbled under your breath. That stupid fuck ass had a habit of somehow ruining your quality time with your boyfriend, postponing dates and meetups in a futile attempt to put away your irksome ‘nemesis.’

You’ve had a couple of encounters with the Prowler, with him being the most determined villain since the ‘Rise of Spider-Girl’. Of all the many villains you’d put away, he seemed the most persistent in riding his wave of crime to fruition. The air, filled with its normal hubbub, voices clamoring together as car engines blended to create the everyday atmosphere of Brooklyn.

You dipped down in between the abandoned subway, scanning the topography of the old station before hearing an uncomfortably loud–

BANG! 

You got up on your feet, quickly scanning the areas as you attempted to squint through the thick veil of darkness that covered your eyes. The soft, meshy fabric of your red and white spider mask made everything increasingly more difficult as you attempted to analyze every small detail of your location. Blurry pipes, massive trash bags, debris, and a run-down train that had been claimed by rust and nature.

You walked down the wide tunnel, clicking on the flashlight that you had attached to your tactical belt a couple of months ago. You smiled to yourself, glad that one of the many trinkets you’d created since becoming Spider-Girl was proving to be useful. It was freezing, your jaw clenching as you lumbered forward, running your gloved fingertips across the rusty metal walls.

“Yo! Come on, man. I know you’re down here somewhere, and I don’t wanna be in this cold-ass tunnel!” You shouted, not even sure if you were actually talking to anyone else. “I mean, hero to…villain? Anti-Hero? I’m sure you’ve got people to get home to. And I’d hate to send your busted ass home to your wife and kids with new bruises,” You threatened, voice low and serious as you began to do another routine scan around your new surroundings. 

“My wife is none of your business,” A stern and rather agitated voice spoke from the far distance, causing you to whip your head around and assume a battle stance. You sucked in a large breath of air, lungs expanding and burning with each passing second as you ran forward at half your usual speed. “And I’m not going home with shit. From you.” He enunciated, the static overlay coating his voice like molten lava and burnt sugar.

“Man, wrap this up! All of the other villains are putting their shit away, why can’t you! Have you ever considered a job?” You spat, stopping mere inches away from the source of the loathsome voice before squinting up at the Prowler. “You’re the most desperate bitch I’ve ever fought with, you know that? I’ve never felt the need to prove something this bad,” You spat, growing more and more agitated by the second. 

“You funny as shit for real. Now If Ian have no human decency, I’d have been sent yo lil’ass to the hospital but ion put my hands on women cuz my daddy raised me betta’ than that. So we can do it like this– you can get the fuck out of my face and I can keep my hands to myself, or I can show all of Brooklyn how you nothin’ but a lil girl playing pretend in tight spandex,” He grunted, dropping down from the tall ceiling and hitting the ground with a sickeningly heavy thud.

His mask illuminated about 6 inches in front of him with bright purple, advancing towards you slowly as he invaded your personal space. You were sure that had he not worn his signature holographic mask, you would’ve felt his breath ghost the tip of your nose. He was so close you could lift a finger and make immediate contact with his chest.

“You piss me the fuck off.” You grunted, staring back at the monster in front of you as you let the thick, discomforting silence fill the lack of space between the two of you. He was menacing, it made you wanna get as far away from him as possible and go home to your kind, and loving boyfriend. But a job’s a job, no matter how intimidating the ‘client’.

“And you give me a fuckin’ headache. ¿Lo sabes, verdad?” He rasped, quickly landing a sharp blow straight to your gut as he sent you flying backward almost one foot. It hurt like hell, your stomach suddenly felt tight and uncomfortably empty as you struggled to regain control over your breathing. “Mira, me estás haciendo sentir mal. You think I wanna hit you?” he muttered, slowly backing away from you before taking off in the opposite direction.

What a fucking dickhead.

You swallowed the bile that threatened to erupt from your gullet, regaining your footing and taking off after the arrogant man once more. You focused on your breathing, drawing long and stable breaths that you allowed to ease the pain that plagued your gut. The wind whistled around your ears as you charged forward, gentle howls and soft rustles caressing your ears with each step.

You followed the harsh neon purple lighting, giggling slightly at how obvious was when you actually got up close to the guy and were able to see his mask. Your footsteps echoed across the tunnel, the heavy thuds mingling with your dull pitter-pattering as you managed to catch up to the unknown man, tackling him from behind as you made a futile attempt to pin him to the ground. And for a second it felt as though he had relaxed into your hold, his usual tense and guarded posture faltering for only a fraction of a second before you felt a painful grip on your wrist.

You went flying forward, narrowly avoiding landing on your neck as you scrambled to land on your feet. Throughout this entire confrontation, your spider-sense seemed to fail you time and time again to warn you of your opponent's attacks, making it increasingly harder to dodge any sort of blow he would deliver. Your right cheek, neck, shoulders, and gut all ached with pain as you struggled to memorize his attack pattern. 

He was unpredictable; switching his style of fighting with every new punch while you went through trial and error of pattern memorization. There were claw marks in your suit near your sides that revealed your skin as you finally found a solid fighting technique against the taller man. You finally found your perfect balance, landing disgustingly heavy blows to any part of him that you could reach.

He was lean. He may be built like a twig on the surface, but his entire body was fortified by nothing but pure muscle mass. He felt nearly hard to the touch as you threw your body weight into every strike. “You’re solid. You could put your…odd level of strength to much better use, c’monnnn,” you half-whined, groaning as you resorted to low blows and a style that consisted of legwork.

The white slits on his holographic mask narrowed, indicating his clear disgust as he jumped over your smaller form. “I have things to do. You’re in my way, little bug…” He spat, making a break for the surface as he ran onto the platform and seemingly glided up the stairs. Fuck, how annoying can someone get? He was faster than a bullet train and had incredible levels of stamina.

He was everything you needed in battle. Each time you found yourselves tangled in each other's path, there was an unexplainable tension that stuck each of you together with a bond stronger than any glue. Not to mention the way he managed to evade every single sense that spider had given you; almost like he wasn’t a threat.

You watched him dart up the block, getting ahead start on a taller building as he dug his claws into the sturdy brick. He climbed like a hungry panther chasing their next meal, starving for some sort of adrenaline as you followed closely behind him. The moon illuminated his figure in a ghostly white hue, highlighting the scratched metal of his suit components.

The frigid air left gentle kisses across your clothed limbs, provoking goosebumps as you pulled yourself up on the rough, concrete roof of some random building. You looked at the man, who rested an annoyed hand on his wounded shoulder as his mask mimicked an eye roll. “No quiero lastimarte. Pero, tengo una esposa en casa,” He grunted before quickly advancing towards you with pure anger.

Suddenly, as if they couldn't be late enough, that familiar tingle ran down your spine as you saw his next move in real-time before it happened. You grabbed his left wrist, which began to outstretch in your direction, and forced pressure onto his trigger point. He released a pained groan before you lunged forward, sending the two of you tumbling forward as something fell out of the collar of the neckline of his shirt.

The white eyes widened as a pretty little gold-clad heart locket dangled around his neck, spinning wildly before settling on his chest without so much as a sound. His eyes widened, kicking you off of him before tucking the locket back in his shirt with a relieved sigh and a silent prayer. “Weird. I gave that same locket to my boyfriend,” You muttered.

There was a low chuckle that sounded more annoyed rather than amused before he shuffled back to his feet and stood underneath the pale moonlight. “My wife gave this to me. Touch it, and i’ll fuckin’ kill you this time” he enunciated, a narrow squint to add insult to his words. “Anniversary gift. I hope you not trynna get personal, cuz I’m still gon whoop your ass”

The gears started turning in your brain as you stopped, your posture relaxing as your closed fist came to a rest on your upper left hip. “June 2nd?” You asked, eyes widening a fraction as you slowly backed away from…the boy? In front of you.

He stopped dead in his tracks, looking down at you with a mixture of confusion and fear before nodding slowly. “Yeah…why?” He murmured as he walked towards you, quickly closing any distance between you that you worked so hard to make. “Mozz?” You asked, gentle curiosity laced in your tone for the first time that night.

Miles looked dumbfounded. His sudden aura of anger and nonchalance melted before your very eyes before quiet forced giggles erupted from his throat. Quiet giddy chuckles quickly became cries, babbles of “I'm sorry” quickly leaving his lips as he lowered himself to the ground and became consumed by regret. “Ma I’m so fucking sorry I would’ve never put my hands on you…” he whispered, shaky breaths leaving his lips as you quickly came to his aid.

“Wait nononono don’t cry!” you pleaded, checking your surroundings to make sure there weren't any cameras, helicopters, or paparazzi before pulling off your mask. “This doesn’t even hurt! It’s fine! C’mon don’t cry, get up,” You pleaded as you scooped up your weeping boyfriend off the floor. His mask collapsed as he leaned into your hold, wetting your suit with salty tears as he grasped at your hand.

“It’s not fine! Since when is me hurting you fine!” He gasped, “I never wanted to do this prowler shit! I only did it so Mamí wouldn’t have to worry about bills…”  he confessed as you peppered gentle kisses to his face. You nodded as he came apart in your arms, feeling your heart shatter into a million pieces as he practically died upon hearing his nickname.

“Miles, I’m not mad! I know you wouldn’t ever hurt me. It’s my JOB to stop villains. It's YOUR job to…be a villain! I still don’t know what you do I’m sorry boo,” you confessed, giving his head gentle pats as he chuckled into your side. “I’m not no villain. I just do what people tell me,” he shrugged, pulling you down to the ‘ground’ with him.

“ ‘m sorry. You know that right? I’ll quit all of this prowler shit Ma I just never wanna hurt you again” he whispered, pressing his lips to yours and pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“You miss a date again and I’m turning you in,” you joked in between kisses.

“Yeah Yeah my bad”

Tags below <3333

@ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasgoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x  @we-loveebony @kae2kaee @dxrlingcc @al3xwqz @l0starl @hobiebrownismygod @luv-kae @moriellis @daydreaming-en-pointe @malinashiftss @imjustagirlintheworld777 @edevotion

[frogmanfae]

I did some research on the NYHoR a few months ago and would just like to add some things

It was on an island with no bridges leading anywhere. If you wanted to go to/from there, it had to be by boat. Eventually, in the mid-late 19th century, a single bridge was built between the island and NYC

Inmates went missing often for a variety of reasons. Maybe they escaped (which was damn near impossible considering the island thing), maybe they got released, maybe it was a little bit darker than that

There was time set aside for lessons to "better their characters" but it predictably led to the guards and "teachers" belittling them and finding excuses for more abuse (i.e. not being able to read/write)

There was also something I read be referred to as "labor hour" in which the inmates were forced to do hard labor, usually making a product. These products were oftentimes woodwork like chairs and tables, but it did change sometimes, and the Refuge was able to sell them for profit. Obviously, none of this profit went to the inmates to "better their characters."

Inmates would be forced to stay silent during the night but also during sometimes random times of the day

It didn't actually close down in the 30s, it was burnt to the ground and they just never bothered to rebuild it

It wasn't actually this bad and it worked as intended (a form of nonviolent Reformation and a jail for children so they wouldn't be placed with adult criminals) but it went really down hill really fast after the Civil War, likely because less kids in the street=less inmates=less funding

Some common punishments I read about included:

Obviously, starving and dehydrating the inmates

Solitary confinement for prolonged periods of time

Hanging the inmates by their thumbs. If the guard was in a mood this was sometimes done with piano wire

Forced nudity

Regular beatings and general brutality

Doing research about the New York House of Refuge and here are just a few findings

TW Abuse

Inmates were distinguished by different uniforms which signified different “classes” (unclear if this uniform system survived into the 20th century but it was at least used in the 1850/60s)

Class No. 1: shall include the best behaved and most orderly boys and girls; those who do not lie, or use profane or indecent language or conversation; who attend their work and studies, are not quarrelsome, and have not attempted to escape.

Class No. 2: Those who are next best, but who are not quite free from all the foregoing vices and practices.

Class No. 3: those who are more immoral in conduct than Class No. 2.

Class No. 4: those who are vicious, bad, or wicked.

The superintendent was supposed to treat the children as his own and show parental kindness to “win their confidence and affection” but if the children didn’t adhere to their rules there were “more severe measures… available” however, “less severe violations of the rules merited deprivation of play time or being sent to bed supperless at sunset. For more serious offenses, bread and water for breakfast, lunch, and supper might be ordered. Assaults upon officers or fellow inmates, or attempted escapes, generally resulted in confinement in solitary cells or corporal punishment.”

“Reformed inmates” were often signed to contracts working outside of the city until they turned 21. These contracts as you could probably guess were basically just great excuses to exploit children and usually resulted in heavy abuse

In the 1850-1860s some interviews were conducted with folks in the rehabilitation system (who’d been signed to contracts which revealed major abuse happening within the system (wow. What a surprise /s) won’t get into details but. Zoinks Scoob.

Boys in the system often said if you did something wrong you’d get “stars and stripes” in reference to the scars you would get from punishments

[senso1954]

jacobean england dashboard simulator

☔️ melancholic-donquixote

london bridge is congested again. what if we all killed ourselves

100k notes

🌎 goodpilgrim Follow

⛪️ normalprotestant

get thee out of our country

17 notes

📐 peterpaulrubens Follow

lange nie mì gheziejn

894 notes

⚾️ lustfulmaiden

ben jonson's new masque was exquisite. if you care

#don't ask me how i saw it lest i doxx myself and bring dishonour to my noble family but i saw it. #his poetry illuminates some deep deep crevices in me 🤤 #diary

1 note

💀 oedipusdevotee

i want to watch twin peaks so bad but it hasn't been invented yet

54k notes

🤡 julietcapules Follow

so, they're finally taking up those fucking alehouse patents in parliament. here's what i'm hoping will happen:

Read More

👺 faustusthegreat

it still baffles the mind how our king let himself be tricked by such a knavish device lmao. either he is that foolish... or the pamphlets are right.

#house of commons for ts #idek what to say at this point when it comes to his divine right... #actually idk what i expected from a foreign king who basically only consorts with foreigners... #glad tumblr is so irrelevant i won't be executed for treason 😝

30 notes

⚔️ learnedworker because you follow #calvinism

i swear by my weakest brother's life that the old man from york is that most behated beast, a catholic... but what do?

#i wish i could turn him in to the authorities but he might tell them about what happened behind the woodshed #much to consider #calvinism

24 notes

🪦 coronaregia

not my white ass being executed for treason....

🪭 erosbittersweet

RIP to my wife's special friend's husband. his widow and their 8 children will find refuge with us so i may be too busy to update the tract for a while, sorry men.

78 notes

✍️ poetessanno1590

interested in my manuscripts? want to support me? why don't you become my patron?

11 notes

📌 Pinned Post

[glitter-ink]

↬ randall’s island uniforms & rogue’s gallery for different girls’ wards, featuring some original characters.

↬ thank you @annaw8799 for letting me include katerina ‘kate’ russo.

↬ names of some characters taken from or inspired by nineteenth century new york census records.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Lil Kalish at HuffPost:

The first-ever mobilization of trans voters around a presidential candidate took place on Zoom on Tuesday, as around 1,000 transgender people, including lawmakers, advocates, health care workers and celebrities, logged on to show support for Vice President Kamala Harris’ bid for the presidency. Trans Folks For Harris was one of numerous identity-based webinars to support Harris after President Joe Biden dropped out of the race last month. Over the last few weeks, many LGBTQ+ advocates have embraced Harris, touting her decadeslong record of supporting LGBTQ+ rights, and her decision to make Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz, who transformed the state into a “trans refuge,” her running mate. This came just after Advocates for Trans Equality released a report showing that 75% of eligible trans voters turned up to the polls in the 2020 presidential election, compared to 67% of the general U.S. population — and that trans voters make up a crucial part of the electorate.

“We know our rights and our progress are on the line, but so is our very sense of belonging,” said Delaware state Sen. Sarah McBride, who was elected as the first openly transgender state senator in the country. If McBride wins her bid for Delaware’s open House seat, she would become the first transgender member of Congress. “We have the opportunity, but more importantly, the responsibility in this election to show a trans young person who fears that the heart of this country is not big enough to love them too, that no matter what extremists say or do, our next president and vice president continue to have their backs,” McBride continued. The Harris-Walz campaign has yet to release any concrete policy plans on civil rights ahead of the Democratic National Convention in Chicago next week, but advocates say Harris and Walz have demonstrated their commitment to supporting LGBTQ+ rights, access to abortion and the rights to bodily autonomy overall. A draft of the Democrats’ platform, which was released in July, outlines their fight to restore reproductive rights, address racial inequalities, and protect democracy.

“It’s a step forward to ensure that trans people, especially Black and Brown trans women, have the representation and the resources they need to live with dignity and pride,” Zahara Bassett, CEO of Chicago trans advocacy organization Life Is Work, said on the call. “We need to make sure that our future is one of equity, justice and liberation for us all.” Harris was one of the first elected officials to publicly back marriage equality in 2004, and she refused to defend Proposition 8, California’s same-sex marriage ban, in 2008. As a prosecutor, she also led the charge to end the so-called gay and transgender “panic defense,” a legal strategy often used to seek a lesser offense for perpetrators of anti-LGBTQ+ violence or murder by claiming that the victim made same-sex sexual advances. In June 2023, Harris became the first sitting vice president to visit the Stonewall Inn, the birthplace of the modern gay rights movement, and the site of the historic 1969 uprising of LGBTQ+ people fighting back against police raids in the New York City bar. And earlier this week, Harris released a video on X outlining how former President Donald Trump vastly restricted LGBTQ+ rights while in office — and how he would do so again if elected. Trump has already promised to roll back several policies, including blocking access to gender-affirming care for minors and rescinding the Biden administration’s Title IX rules that expand protections for transgender students. Trump’s running mate, Ohio Sen. JD Vance, introduced a bill in the upper chamber to criminalize gender-affirming care for trans youth.

[...] Today’s embrace of Harris is in stark contrast to how some LGBTQ+ voters remembered her last bid for president in 2019. Back then, some advocates took issue with Harris’ tenure as a prosecutor for how she pushed for criminal penalties for parents of truant children and which led to the arrest of many Black and brown people. Many also noted how as attorney general, Harris’ office denied an incarcerated trans woman’s request for gender-affirming care. Harris has since apologized and said she takes “full responsibility” for her office’s actions. But still, not all LGBTQ+ voters are convinced. Harris’ support for the Biden administration’s policies towards Israel’s war in Gaza has alienated some of these voters. In the Democratic primaries this year, hundreds of thousands of voters cast “uncommitted” ballots as a form of protest to push for a cease-fire and end U.S. weapons transfers to Israel.

For the first time in American Presidential history, an organized mobilization effort for trans Americans to support Kamala Harris’s Presidency bid has cropped up, featuring a Trans Folks For Harris Zoom call. 🏳️‍⚧️

[noxexistant]

ai-less whumptober; day three

@ailesswhumptober 3 — shared trauma, survivor’s guilt, “It’s not your fault.” ↳ october, 1899 word count; 1.5k

cw; sibling death, implied alcohol abuse

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Jack thinks about Michael every day of his life. Maybe that's a good thing. He can't imagine the guilt if he didn't. But he also, really, can't imagine being able to…not. The thinking is one thing, but the nightmares are another.

And then there's the reminders.

Jack is all too aware his brother's death had had witnesses, all those boys watching out of the Refuge windows as they'd hopped the carriage, as Michael had slipped — and witnesses talk. Newsies talk, every shoeshine and street rat in New York talks; there ain't much else to do when they're working dawn 'til midnight or locked up behind those barred windows under Snyder's heel. Everyone knows. But it's one of those things most folk don't dare talk about — not when he's Cowboy, not when he's got the mask of being a leader to hide behind. Folk don't mess with him, though it's not the same way they don't mess with Spot Conlon. It's not fear.

They just…like him. Too much to bring up his dead little brother every time the urge might strike, whether they're pissed off with him — Jack thinks about his photograph, silently torn to shreds after he took the money — or they're just curious.

The Delanceys have no such reservations.

"Hey, Kelly," Oscar calls out from a little way down the alleyway Jack had just turned down. "Happy anniversary."

It's not. It's in a couple weeks. But Oscar's never been good with numbers.

"Fuck off, Delancey," he responds.

It's fucking cold. Too cold for October, too cold to be outside all day, but Jack doesn't have a whole lot of choice. He'd sold like shit, the way he always does in that lull between the cold weather starting and Christmas coming in — it's late and he's only just sold his last pape, he just wants to be done. But there Oscar is, leaned against the wall of the alleyway Jack's trying to cut through to get back to the lodging house, cigarette in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. He smells like the stuff, but it isn't the sharp, acrid smell of the cheap booze that can usually be found amongst the newsies. It smells good. It looks good.

Oscar grins at him, lopsided. Jack can guess that what's been drained from the bottle has all been drank by him tonight, and his suspicions are confirmed when Oscar brings the bottle to his lips and takes a long, easy drink.

"How long's it been now, eh?" he asks as he draws the bottle away, voice still a little tight as he swallows, utterly casual. "Since Michael. Ten years?"

His tone is lazy, something smug and amused and utterly infuriating in his face. Jack rolls his jaw.

"C'mon, Oscar, get your fingers up. Try an' count it out."

Of all the possible reactions, he isn't expecting Oscar to laugh.

Violence would be expected, normal, but Oscar laughs, the way he usually only does when he's beating someone into the pavement or ruining their day.

It makes something in Jack's gut curl, burning hot and angry.

"Y'know, I really don't get it," he says. "Why you're like this. Why you act like all that time in there was nothin' to you, jus' somethin' to crack jokes about now. I saw you. Every day. Saw you go through Hell with me. An' your little brother."

Oscar takes a slow drag from his cigarette, still sort of smiling around it. One side of his mouth curled up to bare a canine that gets covered when he exhales the smoke into the cold night air.

"Been through worse," he says with a shrug. Takes a swig of his whiskey. "An' clearly I did better in there 'n you did. Got my wee brother out alive an' all."

The noise he makes when Jack throws him into the wall is satisfying, at least. A grunt from deep in his chest as the air is knocked out of him, a dull crack of his head hitting the brick last. His cigarette tumbles to the floor, and Jack takes no small amount of satisfaction in catching it beneath his boot and scraping it hard, mangling it into a spread corpse of tobacco, though Oscar keeps a firm hold on his whiskey.

And then he smiles again, lazier this time.

"You always been jealous."

Jack had seen Morris go through Hell in the Refuge. As much as if not more than Jack himself and Oscar had faced. He'd been tiny when Jack first saw him. A tiny, malnourished little kid who'd clearly been brutalised all his life. For the first few years, Jack had believed Morris to be a lot younger than he is — Michael's age, maybe. Never could've guessed that he's only a few months younger than Jack himself. But Morris was always well looked after by Oscar, regardless of the circumstances in there, or the circumstances of wherever they'd come from. Morris was forever under the protection of his older brother. Oscar, who would start fights with the other boys to wrench their rations from them to give to Morris. Who'd stay awake all night and curl himself around his brother, vicious and protective like a dog, or sit vigil at his bedside to ensure nobody dared come close. Who'd walked out of the Refuge, freshly eighteen, with his hand clasped around his little brother's bony wrist when their uncle had arrived, looking for boys to put to work.

Maybe Jack thinks about them near as much as he thinks about Michael. It's a fact he fucking hates.

He'd compared himself to Oscar at every possible turn as they grew up, confined together, the only other older brother he'd ever known to compare himself to.

He'd wondered, in the wake of Michael's death, if he could've kept him alive, protected him better, if he was only more like Oscar. More vicious, more controlling, more willing to bide his time and take it for as long as he had to until it was over, instead of always having to try and run. Maybe he could've been stronger.

"'M'glad," he says, without. Really thinking about it. Means it, at least. "That you got your brother out."

He's still got Oscar pinned to the wall, leaning his weight against him with hands balled into the worn fabric of his jacket, but finally he forces himself to let go. Staggers a step backwards, skin feeling heavy on his body. Grief feeling heavy on his aching shoulders.

There's a brief stretch of silence. And then Oscar wordlessly holds out the bottle of whiskey between them.

Jack takes it without hesitation, and tips it back to draw a long swig from the bottle. It's good. Rich and warm, burns down his throat right to his empty stomach. Oscar's looking at him.

"You expectin' me to lie to you?" he says, but his voice is softer now. "Tell you it's not your fault?"

Jack shakes his head, and takes another swig, maybe half because he can and half because he's cold. Mostly because he needs it.

"Know it is," he says forcefully. "'Course it's my fault."

It had been October then too, and he knew then how utterly miserable winters in the Refuge were. He'd just wanted to get out before the cold set in, wanted to get him and Michael somewhere they could stay warm. Boys always died during the winter in the refuge. And isn't there a sick irony to that.

"I—" Oscar says suddenly, then stops himself. Swallows, and drops his head back against the brick again, pale eyes looking up at the sky. "Dunno how you kept goin'," he says. "Dunno that I could. 'f Mo…"

Jack swallows too. He can't help but look at Oscar, closer than he usually ever gets to be, something. Sickeningly intimate about the vulnerability in this moment. The older boy looks tired. He looks sad. And then seems to experience his own wave of grief, as if realising in an instant that he's said more than he wanted to — revealed too much, like Jack hasn't already seen everything. Hasn't seen Oscar holding Morris' limp body and screaming. It was just the fact that Morris woke up.

"Fuckin'. Whatever," Oscar mutters. "I gotta get home."

Jack imagines Morris is waiting for him.

It's how it always is, when the two of them are apart. They're just waiting to be reunited, two broken halves of a whole. Oscar goes suddenly, without another word, and Jack watches him walk away with his hands shoved in his pockets, boots crunching. He's still got his own hand around the neck of the bottle that Oscar had left with him. There's still a warmth to it where Oscar had held it.

Jack takes another swig, and starts heading his own way home, trying not to think about Michael waiting for him somewhere.

[the1920sinpictures]

1914 Man being vaccinated at the Municipal Lodging House at 432-438 East 25th Street, Manhattan. The Lodging House was a refuge for the destitute, unemployed and homeless. From New York City-Vintage History, FB.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Pretty Like A Devil

Part 2: The Hard Deck

San Diego, California was a far cry from the northeast corner of the United States that you had come from. You traded the Great North Woods that spanned from Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont to New York in the New England area, for the infamous golden state.

The Sunshine Coast, as you’d heard Vida call it, was the place where you would find refuge and escape your broken engagement.

You were leaving behind the beauty of thick dense clusters of trees, and inescapable fall beauty for endless sandy beaches. You would be trading the kind of nature that raised you, for the oceanic siren’s call.

The Great North Woods had been part of the process, and a necessary change to help you heal. It was a transposition of scenery, a part of your past, as you shifted your focus to piecing yourself together.

There was little you knew about the golden state, apart from the things you had learned in school, and you’d never been to the West Coast. You were getting a first-hand account of San Diego, Fightertown according to some, the city that Vida had fallen in love with.

It was indescribable, the first view you’d gotten of the coastal shorelines from the plane—both sandy beaches and towering rocky cliffs.

There was an undeniable draw that you had felt to the state already, and that was before the plane had even touched down. Though you had been expecting to be swept away by the state like Vida had, you didn’t expect for it to happen so quickly. Nevertheless, even after just touching down, you felt as if you could breathe deeply and cleanly for the first time.

The deadweight of your broken relationship and your ex-fiancé had felt as it was left behind in your home state.

Even if the feeling was cliché or as overdone as it may have seemed.

“Our place is literally five minutes from the beach, you could walk there. It’s remarkable.” Vida’s own harbouring excitement had almost boiled over when she picked you up from the airport.

You had suffered from lingering anxiety you had felt at the beginning of the flight. It had come from a mild fear of everything that could go wrong would go wrong, though it seemed to be replaced with eagerness once you saw the coast.

And now that you were out of the airport and in Vida’s Jeep on the way to her house, the remaining anxiety had dissipated.

You hadn’t just left behind your ex-fiancé and the relationship that had been broken by infidelity, you had left behind your family. While your mom and your sisters had understood your need to leave, to find an escape across the country, they would miss you. And you would miss them.

The goodbye you shared with them was difficult to swallow, regardless of you having your best friend to lean on in California, it was still tearing at you.

“You said you know someone whose looking for help?” You wanted as many distractions from your thoughts as possible, and having yourself thrown headfirst into work was the start.

You wouldn’t have cared if you worked as a waitress in a cheap and greasy diner, or if you were scrubbing floors in a school. You wanted to find work, you wanted to throw yourself into a job to start earning money, to find yourself a place of your own. Even if Vida and her fiancé told you that there was no rush for you to get your place.

“It’s a bartending job, I know you said you’d never bartended before, but it’s a real relaxed place. The owner is wonderful, her name is Penny. Trust me, this will be good for you.” Vida’s bright reassurance was effective, it had given you a greater sense of reprieve to know that you wouldn’t have to search long.

“Does she know….” you hesitated to finish your question, you had rendered yourself quiet as you glanced out the window of her Jeep. The coastline was beautiful, it was something you were eager to explore.

It had been another draw, another captivating sight that had pulled you further into immediate fondness for the San Diego sights.

“We’re going to go there now, if you’re okay with that.” Vida was asking you for permission as if she weren’t the one controlling the vehicle, and you were.

“Is she that desperate for work, or is it a favour?” You had finally rehashed your question, giving it a new light.

As it was asked, you turned your head and looked at Vida, your eyes sweeping across her as she hummed under her breath. Whether she was ignoring your question or she simply hadn’t heard you, it had come to the same result: verbal silence above the muffled background of the radio.

“Vida—“

“We take care of each other, we’re family.” She had talked over you after you spoke her name, her eyes, and tone of voice casting reassurance on you. “Penny is a fantastic person, Rooster and I are really close to her and Mav.”

“Rooster?” You seemed surprised, again, by the name her fiancé went by. You had known his name, Bradley Bradshaw, but it never ceased to catch you off guard when she called him by his callsign. “Right, that’s what you call him.”

“Everyone has a callsign. Bradley’s is Rooster, Pete Mitchell’s is Maverick…” Vida seemed to grin to herself, giggling under her breath with a shake of her head. “Oh, just wait until you meet Hangman.”

“Hangman? What kind of name is Hangman?” You mumbled under your breath, your eyes drifting toward the sand parking lot Vida was pulling into.

The bar she was speaking of, The Hard Deck, was a solitary building on the smooth and warm sand with its back to the ocean.

The front of the building seemed to be made of medium-dark wood shiplap and had a small porch at the front with an overhanging cover. The HARD DECK signage was written with faded red LED lights that matched the faded white trim.

“Wait until you see inside, it’s so much better inside.” Vida had parked and turned the engine off, slipping the keys into her jean pockets.

As you got out of the vehicle and followed her, you felt like you were craning your neck to try to get a look at everything before you.

Your cheap, worn shoes had sunk lightly into the sand as you made your way to the front door, climbing the two dark stained wooden steps that led to the entrance. The main door to the Hard Deck was made of light-medium wood with heavy hinges, and you’d grabbed the brass handle and yanked the door open, allowing Vida to pass first.

Your first impressions on stepping into the bar was nothing short of amazement. There was nothing insignificant about the bar, nothing that wasn’t completely captivating. To your left, once you stepped inside, was a booth tucked into the corner of the bar, the leather U-shaped seats and small wooden table looked intimate and comfortable.

On the walls were memorabilia and artwork depicting the kind of jets and fighter pilots that manned them. There was a single light hanging above the table, a pale yellow light ensconced in a brass fixture.

Across from the front entrance was a series of smaller seating areas with matching tables and blue leather chairs. There was a series of them along the wall, leaving a space between the seating arrangements and the bar to walk, though.

Though the floor was seamlessly laid out with dark grey wood to match the aesthetic of the dark wood, there was nothing about the bar that didn’t draw you in.

The Hard Deck was beautiful, unabashedly so.

“This is incredible.” You were in complete awe of this place, and you truly didn’t know where you wanted to look first.

Maybe you were drawn toward all the artwork on the walls, or the endless white cups bearing the images of different airplanes on the side, hanging from certain areas of the bar.

“Wait until you see it when it’s officially open,” Vida nudged you with her elbow, directing you toward the main feature of the building.

The bar itself was a seamless and large oval in the centre, one which had been set up with beer on tap at a station in the middle. There was an equally respectable set of liquor bottles that had been arranged to the left of the beer.

You had taken a seat beside Vida on the side of the bar that was closest to the door. As you sat and slowly took another look around, you heard the door opening to the kitchen. Although, you had still been looking around when you heard a woman speaking to you.

“Penny Benjamin,” the woman standing on the other side of the bar extended her hand.

Her long dark brown hair was loose and free-falling over her shoulders and down her back, her blue eyes were settled on you in an interested and speculative glance. You had extended your hand for her to shake, giving her name in exchange for hers, and then you withdrew your hand and fell into silence.

It was only after a minute of the silence that she spoke with nothing less than a cordial tone and a kind smile.

“So you are my new bartender. Have you ever worked as a bartender before?” It appeared that she didn’t have any previous expectations that you had, and you were sure Vida would’ve already told her that you hadn’t—it seemed, however, that she wanted to hear it from you.

“I have more experience on the receiving end than I have making drinks.” You’d felt that unsettling bubble of minute panic rising beneath your skin. It was an after effect that had seemingly worsened since you caught your ex cheating, though it was intensified in certain situations.

“You’ll start easy on the beer, and you’ll be my runner.” Penny’s attention had been cast behind her, at the sign she had posted on the wall that was hanging beneath a large bell.

“Disrespect a lady, the Navy, or put your cellphone on my bar you buy a round…” You read the sign slowly, processing the message slowly and with interest. “That happen often?”


“More than you think.” Penny had offered you another smile and then crossed her arms over her chest, her attention briefly falling to a clock on the wall. “Come back tomorrow at 5. I’ll run you through the system, and we’ll get you thrown right into it.”

“Thank you.” You were grateful for the opportunity to have work sooner than you expected, especially in a place that seemed so relaxed and close to the beach.

It seemed like just as soon as you had gotten to The Hard Deck, you were gone again and heading to the house.

While Vida had mentioned that her and Rooster’s house was five minutes from the beach, you hadn’t expected it to look or be as cozy as it was.

Though Vida made sure to tell you that Rooster had lived on base when he was considered to be on active duty, and spent his time here when he was free. There was a certain charm and character to the house that hadn’t fit the aesthetic of the houses surrounding Vida’s, and you enjoyed it.

The house had charm, and it was clearly well-loved if the personal touches were anything to go off. On the front porch, with an overhanging roof, there was a porch swing set against the wall decorated with nautically designed pillows. There was a rumpled blanket between the armrests and the pillows, and a book resting on the material.

On the front of the door was a hanging sign. It was a standard welcome sign that had been made with thick rope against a black background.

“There are four bedrooms, and I have your guest room all set up.” Vida had stepped by you to unlock and open the door, welcoming you into the front entrance.

While the decor was simple, it was clearly embossed with personal touches from both Vida and Bradley—one of his coats was draped across the couch, and there was a stack of books Vida had clearly just bought.

“Up the stairs are two of the bedrooms—the main bedroom and the room Rooster is using for an office, of sorts.” Vida had taken off her shoes before she stepped aside, allowing you to drag in your luggage.

You set it by the front door before you took off your shoes and set them aside, taking a slow look around the room that had exuded personal charms that fit both Vida and her fiancé. There was a picture of Bradley, you assumed it was him, as a child with his mother and father.

The three of them sitting on the bottom steps of what you assumed was a boardwalk. Besides the first picture you had seen, was another picture of his father, someone who was also a pilot, standing outside the plane he likely flew.

“It’s just going to be us tonight.” Vida had broken your silence with a gentle prod, directing you to follow her to the guest room she set up for you.

The room you would have would be off the main living room and down a small hall, a private space for you. It was far enough away for you from Vida and Bradley, when he was here, wherein you wouldn’t be able to hear them.

“Thank you, Vida. For everything.” You had recalled your gratefulness and extended it again, with a tight and lingering hug.

She was your best friend since childhood, and she had helped you more than you could ever quantify. You didn’t think you could have ever thanked her enough for the way she and Bradley had given you a fresh start.

“We’re best friends, we’re practically sisters. It’s what we do for each other.” She pulled away and rested her hands on your shoulders, her eyes searching yours and yours searching hers. “I missed you, Y/N. I’m damn sorry for what happened, but I’m glad you’re here.”

********************************

The Hard Deck was a popular place, as you had come to find out when you had started your first shift as a runner and waitress.

While Penny had managed mixing drinks and taking care of the people sitting at the bar itself, you had been busy on the floor. You hadn’t known what to expect when you had started at The Hard Deck, however both Vida and Penny had told you how popular the place was—with both the navy and locals.

While you had known that before you started, and you had been told that by Vida herself, there was nothing like first-hand experience.

Your first shift and day as the new bartender and waitress had begun at 5 pm, like Penny had stated. You had been given a rundown of the tap systems, the POS system and anything you might have needed to access during your shift.

It was a quick rundown before the first few people had entered the bar and taken seats near the back.

“You weren’t kidding when you said it was popular.” You had remarked to Penny after you stepped behind the bar to start pouring beer, the glass in your hand cooled from the alcohol and the chilling station.

As you focused on pouring beer from the tap, you had raised your head as the door to the bar opened. Your eyes were fixated on the appearance of three men and a woman in khaki uniforms from the navy, bearing their ranks and last names.

Of the three men, only one seemed to carry an air of arrogance that was easily detectable even from where you were standing. You had set the filled glass down and reached for another once, watching the arrogant navy man from the corner of your eyes as he seemingly hung behind his friends.

“They’re a little wild, but they won’t give you trouble.” Penny had commented on the place your attention landed, specifically on the man who remained behind.

“Hangman,” Penny greeted him with a sly grin, her hands on her hips and her blue eyes focused on him, “you survived your last flight.”

“Penny, my dear, nothing can take me out.” His voice was teeming on the edge with a slight twang of a southern accent, Texas was your best guess. “You’re new.”

You finished pouring the third glass, setting it on your tray, before you finally looked at the cocky pilot. He was leaning against the bar, forearms resting against the edge, with a cocky grin on his face.

His dirty blonde hair was pushed back out of his face in a soft yet small coif, and his blue eyes were flitting between yourself and Penny as if waiting for an introduction. His jaw was strong and firm, almost angular, and he almost certainly was the kind of man you could have called a fuck boy.

You turned your head, glancing at him with furrowed eyebrows and your lips pursed. Penny called him Hangman, a person Vida said she couldn’t wait for you to meet, and that made you question why she wanted you to meet him.

“Wow, Sherlock, you’re something else.” You responded to his flagrant claim with a sarcastic bite, and a roll of your eyes.

Was it possible for someone you just met to already get under your skin and invigorate your irritation?

It seemed probable for the cocky pilot, the man who seemed to radiate pretentiousness and confidence to a fault.

It shouldn’t have been possible for someone you had barely spoken to, someone you had met for less than five solid minutes, to aggravate you like he had.

“Got a name, new girl?” He rebuffed the sarcastic remark with a grin, and leaned closer to you. “Or should I just call you sweetheart?”

Your pursed lips became a scowl, and your teeth had ground together. You grabbed the tray of beer and carted it off in your hands, ignoring him and his air of arrogance.

“Don’t like sweetheart? How about sugar?” He called after you, and you knew you could feel his grin as you walked away.

You wove in and out of the crowd of people to deliver the ordered beer, your irritation at the pilot only growing when you noticed him still sitting there when you got back.

“Gonna give me an answer, sugar?” He was pressing with that stupid grin still on his face, only now he had an empty shot glass in front of him.

“Hangman,” you replied to his flirtatious laced comment with his callsign, further aggravated by him, “I’ve heard of you.”

Really, all you had heard was his callsign and Vida’s eagerness that you meet each other. Though she hadn’t given you much to go on, you couldn’t posit why she was so excited for you to meet, you’d barely spoken to him and you already wanted to deck him.

“Good things, I’m assuming.” He was shameless when he ordered another drink, a beer this time, and laid a bill on the counter. “Sweetheart, a beer.”

“You know how to use your manners? Or you think you’re above saying please?” You swiped the bill from the counter and handed it off to Penny. Your eyes narrowed in contempt when his grin only seemed to widen into a full bore and bright smile, and a laugh had slipped from his lips.

“I like you,” Hangman, as you’d only known him, had stood up straight when his beer had been set on the bar top, winking at you before he stepped away. “Keep the change, sweetheart. Maybe it’ll lighten your mood.”