#transport furniture to another state

[theodorecanaryhood]

The Arkham Knight chapters

Part 1

Planning a new series with my man Jason Todd from Arkhamverse.

Arkham Knight / Red Hood / Jason Todd x Male Reader

18+

The Neon Light hit your eyes as you yawned, sleep fighting with you as you tried to force yourself to stay awake a bit longer.

Sleep was hard to come by lately as there was always something keeping you up at night, but the passing nights you would’ve been able to fall asleep with ease, had it not been for you being awake so long you grew adapt to it.

‘More coffee darling?’ Shelly, the waitress asked you.

You nodded as she refilled your cup, maybe caffeine would be enough to keep you going.

You saw a guy in a red hoodie sitting in the end booth. Looked as if he was smoking.

Guess he didn’t realise it’s illegal to smoke inside buildings nowadays. I mean, it’s 2015, it’s been about 20 years since the law was changed.

Spotting a man in uniform approaching the smoking man, that’s when you were surely wide awake.

Chaos broke out in seconds and there was screaming, gunshots, people tumbling into each other and the furniture surrounding.

You ducked and hid safely under the table as you witnessed Shelly and Darla, another waitress, fall lifelessly to the floor.

The terror in their open eyes, blood coming from their bodies. You covered your mouth in the hopes no one would hear you.

Silence filled the diner for a few seconds that felt like hours, then a final gunshot. The police officer shot himself after causing bloodshed and chaos.

You sat knees to chest for a while before you found the courage to move again, slowly crawling out from under the table.

Seeing the bodies laying on the ground, not knowing whether or not anyone was alive but also not wanting to make any noise, mostly in case someone bad was still there.

Just an innocent kid in a diner that night, simply wrong place at the wrong time.

The sleepless nights that followed were caused by the faces of the dead. Those who fell that night.

Gotham City was on lockdown as the crazed Scarecrow and this Arkham Knight character tried to take over the city.

It wasn’t long until you found yourself armed with guns and weapons to defend yourself, being one of the unlucky few who didn’t make it to transport away quick enough.

It also wasn’t long until you found yourself stranded in the streets, trying to get to safety.

You gasped as you shot around to see the Arkham Knight behind you, you panicked a little as he placed his finger up, signalling for you to stay quiet.

‘Find anyone?’ A militia member called out, the Knight turned his head slightly to call back.

‘That’s a negative’ he responded as he disappeared from your view.

‘The fuck?’ You mumbled a little, confused as to why you were so lucky to have gotten away that easily.

He had a chance to grab you but he didn’t, why? Everyone else had been gunned down or abducted. What made you special?

Batman saved the City and was unmasked for everyone to see, you couldn’t say you were too surprised it was Bruce Wayne under the mask.

It made sense with all the expensive gadgets he uses, only fair a rich guy was under the influence of the Dark Knight.

Then suddenly, as quick as it started, it was over and you were back home. Your house seemed so empty and different.

Your parents were lucky and got away, they were also very reluctant to come back. They made it clear they wouldn’t yet.

No time to tell how long it would be as they decided to flee the States all together, selfishly leaving you where you were. But then, not the first time they’d done that to you.

As quick as the flash could run, your night marked the rest of your life. The diner Neon lights were bright again.

The diner seemed so strange after that night, you could still remember where Shelly and Darla lay. In fact, your foot could reach the spot from where you sat.

‘More coffee sweetie?’ Angela smiled, sadly as you nodded.

You didn’t come to stay awake anymore, you came to try to forget what had happened.

It was no use, the more you sat in the diner the more you remembered the carnage from last year.

You strolled down the streets of Gotham, trying to forget the hell you’d seen until you bumped into trouble.

‘Oh look here, a little boy is lost’ a thug called out with a smile, pulling out his baton.

‘Just trying to make my way home’ you responded, half assed as the thugs approached you.

Weapons ready to make contact with your skin, your body waiting for bruises as you sighed.

A figure appeared with a red Helmet on, guns in his hands already.

‘The fuck is this clown?’ Another thug asked, amusement in his voice.

‘Don’t even talk to me about clowns’ Red Hood growled, pulling his guns up at the ready.

6 against 1 seemed too much but Red Hood pulled it off, knocking 4 down with ease and little to no effort. Taking no damage.

Red Hood turned to witness you, his eyes widened under his mask.

You were lifted off the ground and held over a thugs shoulder, you swung your leg round the thugs neck and wrestled him to the floor.

Doing a backflip as you took the last thug out with a swift kick in the jaw.

Red Hood stared at you in disbelief as he’d never seen someone take care of themselves, he’d never thought he would not have to save someone completely.

‘What?’ You asked, Red Hood continued staring as he cleared his throat.

‘Where’d you learn to fight like that?’ He asked, you shrugged.

‘Last year after the lockdown, I learnt to fight to protect myself’ you replied as Red Hood nodded.

It has been sometime and you were not just there to help Red Hood as a partner or a sidekick, but you were also there to be his friend.

‘Jason, you need to be more careful’ you said as Jason stripped from his shirt.

‘Do you care that much y/n?’ He asked you, pants dropping to his ankles.

You bit your lip at the sight, Jason had been there before as a friend but he was playing with your mind.

‘Yes’ you replied, Jason smirked as he walked a little closer to you.

‘Why?’ He asked, looking deep into your eyes.

It marked the new chapter to you two, Jason took you in his arms and showed you a different side of him. Made you feel things that you’d never experienced.

2016 was a year that changed, but to now in 2024, so much time had passed by.

You still thought about those long nights from nine years ago, the night you spent in the Diner when you changed.

Jason had told you everything, he was Robin, the second one to Batman. He got taken by the Joker and everything that followed.

He was the man in the Red Hoodie that night when your life started to turn dark, he was the Arkham Knight. That was the reason he saved you that night in the alley.

It wasn’t only time that changed but Jason too, he became more comfortable with his skin, he got tattoos to fill his body. Some covered his scars, some didn’t. He grew his hair out a bit and grew a beard to make himself look better.

‘How’s this look?’ Jason asked you, walking into your shared bedroom.

‘Great, then you look good in anything’ you wink, Jason smiled as he blushed a little.

Jason rubbed oil in his beard as he hummed quietly to himself, spraying himself with cologne as he placed his wedding ring back on his finger.

It had been a while, a function for Wayne Enterprises in loving memory of Bruce. Lucius Fox wanted it to be special, he wanted all of the Wayne’s there.

Dick, Jason, you, Tim and Barbara all standing waiting for the function, welcoming guests as you acknowledged the fact you’d never met Bruce.

Jason never spoke about him much, but when he did he had a hint of sadness in his voice. Jason’s eyes watered a little from the pictures up of Bruce.

‘You wanna head out of here?’ You asked Jason as he nodded sadly, asking for you to wait as he said goodbye to people.

The front doors to your home opened as you walked in, Jason grabbed you by the throat as he shut the door.

He bent down a little to greet your lips with his, he kissed you aggressively as you panted into the kiss. Heat rushing down to your groin as you felt yourself standing up.

Jason lent himself into your thigh, pressing his length into you.

‘I don’t want to do anything right now, apart from fucking the shit out of you’ Jason growled as he stripped your clothes off.

Jason stripped his off next as you both stood in the hallway. Jason wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you up as you wrapped your legs around his waist, arms around his neck.

Your naked bodies pressed together as your lips connected and locked together, Jason carried you through to the nearest room and held you against the wall.

‘Fuck, Jason’ you gasped as Jason forced his way in, no lube or spit, just went in raw.

‘Fuck’ you cried out as Jason pounded into you dry, sinking his teeth into your neck.

You couldn’t lie it wasn’t comfortable with Jason in dry, but you could just happily take it where you were.

Jason thrusted into you as you remained held onto him, climbing him like a tree. Jason’s muscles flexed as he felt himself getting harder and harder.

‘You still wanna walk?’ Jason asked as he took you to the bedroom.

Throwing you in the bed, lubing himself up as he slid back inside you, you on all fours as Jason pounded away. His hips slamming, balls clapping, dick dripping.

Jason dug his nails into your ass cheeks as the ricochet of his force made your ass ripple. Jason threw his head back, he clenched his teeth as he sped up even more.

‘Oh God Jason, fuck me, fuck me’ you nearly screamed as Jason hammered into you.

Jason smiled, loving it when you lose yourself and just don’t care about the noise levels.

‘Turn around’ Jason said as he rolled you over and slid back inside.

You held onto his back as Jason slowly stroked inside you, your dick got harder and harder and Jason made you gasp.

‘Right there, there, please don’t…right there’ you struggled to speak.

Jason smiled a little as he witnessed you coming undone as he made you come while hands free. You nor Jason needed to touch you or stoke your length to get the seed to spill.

‘Goddamn’ Jason said as he watched your seed spill out of your head, spilling all over your stomach.

‘Fuck, fuck’ Jason yelled as he pulled out and jerked himself off onto your chest.

Taking a few breaths to catch himself, Jason then went lower in the bed to lap up yours and his spilled seed all over you.

Jason’s tongue left trails on your skin, his teeth marked your neck again. His lips on yours.

‘Let me know when you’re hard again’ Jason whispered in your ear.

You held Jason closer to you as the two of you suck into a deep kiss. A kiss that tasted like sex, a kiss mixed with what Jason had licked off of you.

A few minutes went by and you were getting hard again, Jason hummed as you pushed Jason down so he lay on his back.

You sink down onto his hard length again as you lifted your hips slightly, Jason held onto your waist as you began to bounce a bit quicker.

‘Y/n, you’re so fucking tight. God, you’re so fucking hot’ Jason panted as he let you take control.

You bounced up and down as you ran your hand down Jason’s body, he interlocked his fingers with yours on one hand while the other hand ran down your body.

‘This feels so good’ you called out as you sped up and jerked yourself off.

‘Fuck, fuck, baby you’re gonna make me come if you keep that up’ Jason smiled as you continued doing what you were doing.

‘Uh, Jason’ you called out as you could tell he was getting closer, his grip got tighter as his muscles flexed again.

‘Fuck, I’m gonna come’ Jason called out as he shot inside you.

You slowed the pace down and only stopped when you were sure Jason had emptied himself inside you.

You continued jerking yourself until you spilled on Jason’s chest and neck, him smiling as he held your hand. Running his hand up and down your body.

Jason’s eyes burned into your skin as he admired the view, sitting up and giving you a quick kiss as you wiped some come from Jason’s neck and licked it off your hand.

Jason threw you back over onto your back as he bit your pec a little, growling into it.

‘Let’s take a shower’ Jason smiled as he rushed to turn the shower head on.

Cleaning each other off in the hot water, kissing every now and then and feeling yourselves getting hit and hard again.

Nights when Jason wanted to forget something was always like this, he just wanted sex and unlimited physical contact.

Jason used sex to show he truly loved you unconditionally, but also treated sex like therapy. He wanted to forget a bad memory or distract himself from feeling like shit.

You accepted every inch of Jason, physical and emotional. And he the same for you.

Nights like this ended with you buried under Jason, or held in his arms all night. Jason sleeping heavily as his body pressed against you. Holding you with him.

[ashnwolves]

He invites me to stay, it cuts like a knife / Saying it like he's entitled to a place in my life!

I got to (read: had to) replace my laptop today, which means I got to (read: had to) sort through my old files and decide what to transfer and what to erase. While doing so, I found this old Kaveh solo I wrote and wanted to share, if only so I don't have to copy one more MP3 over.

Lyrics under the cut! More music in a state of actual polish coming soon, I swear.

"Finding My Place"

My room is too small, the house is too wide. The walls are painted that incessant grey The furniture's muddled, these rugs improperly dyed. I hit my head again on the doorway

And there's food on the table, the seat is still warm The earth feels too stable, I'm geared for the incoming storm

He invites me to stay, it cuts like a knife Saying it like he's entitled to a place in my life.

And we pick up like we never said goodbye He says I'll find my place, and I guess I'll try All I can do is try.

My whole world in a box, unpacked in one small room Skittish like a desert fox without a hint of prior gloom I'll make it work somehow, even if his taste in decor spells my doom So much for no gloom.

And there's books on the bookshelves, a key by the door There's a… Huh. I could've sworn I saw a key there before.

And he swans right in with unreadable eyes Disappearing with a book--guess that's not much of a surprise Leaving for who-knows-where without saying goodbye But he says I'd better find my place…

And soon enough, I'll find a place Somewhere within the forest Where I won't have to see his face As Kusanali promised

To decorate with my own taste Where who I am won't be erased Where I won't be transported back to times gone by Of you and I A place exactly as I like it Exactly as I left it Exactly how things were before I came here

There are snapshots in the study I never would have thought There's a shelf above the cupboard With some books he must have bought And I'm starting to remember Who we were before we were… not.

And there's music in the morning, And company at night I never thought I'd get used to That unfamiliar sight And we pick up like we never said goodbye

But I'm leaving just as soon as I raise the Mora Soon as I find another place with such a nice, welcoming aura Or not. I swore I'd find my place… Maybe it's closer than I thought.

[tumbleweed-writes]

Death and the Lady: Chapter Seven: Chibs Telford x Reader

PREVIOUS CHAPTER FOUND HERE

Slightly NSFW 18+

TAG LIST:

@youngadult9016  @mrsfilipchibstelford @mamawiggers1980 @ravennaortiz @liveinsteadofdreaming @redwoodmaya

--------========

Chapter Seven: Unconventional

Y/N was thankful that Skeeter had been willing to allow her to borrow his Toyota pick up truck as she was quite sure the old hearse would not even manage to make the short thirty mile drive from Charming to Lodi. 

Although it should reasonably only take her a couple of hours to travel from the funeral home in Charming to Saint Elizabeth’s Institute in Lodi, Y/N was not willing to take the risk of anything happening to the old hearse. 

Given that her Acura was still in the care of TM Auto, and would be for a while at least according to Chibs, she was not looking to add another broken down vehicle to her problems. 

Skeeter had not seemed to mind her borrowing his truck for a few hours at the very least. He knew she’d been putting this off for far too long now. 

Y/N would be lying if she tried to claim she had not been tempted to use her lack of reliable transportation as a reason to avoid making this trip today, but she knew she’d been putting it off for far too long now. 

The last time she’d made the trip had been two Christmases ago when she’d visited home for the holidays.  

She adjusted her coat pulling it closed tighter against her body as she made her way through the long hallways of Saint Elizabeth’s. 

It was a plain looking building, a little dull to be honest. It was a large structure that looked very much like any other hospital. The sign out front simply stated Saint Elizabeth’s Institute and stated the year it had been established. 

The inside of the building felt sterile and always held an odor of bleach and an undertone of something quite unpleasant that someone had attempted to cover with lavender air freshener. The scent always gave Y/N a headache. 

The entire place actually made her feel ill. The building always felt far too cold even in the winter. The sparse furniture in the hallway and the lack of decor only added to the feeling of cold. The walls were all either white or a pale blue. She’d assumed the color choices were meant to be calming, but it just made her feel lethargic.

The overhead lights gave the hallway a far too bright tone and patients and nurses alike passed Y/N on occasion as she slowly made her way through the halls, though the patients for the most part seemed to be escorted by a nurse or some other aide.

Y/N cringed as she neared the hospital’s recreation room having been told by the nurse on hand that this would be the best place to visit with her brother.

Lunch had ended not long ago and medications had just been given out. Most of the hospital’s residents were in their rooms or off to their daily therapy sessions. Y/N had been told simply to head to the recreation room and a nurse would fetch Daniel and bring him to her.

She sighed as she reached the room trying not to cringe as she took a seat in a plastic chair by a small table. She’d never grow accustomed to the strange furniture in the institute. It was all plastic and mostly bolted down to the floor.

She knew the reasoning of course; some patients might be prone to violent fits and it wasn’t wise to have heavy furniture that was not attached to the floor. A nurse had reassured Y/N, the first time she’d noticed the strange furniture, that it was intended both for the safety of the staff and residents alike.

The recreation room didn’t seem to have much for recreation. There was a television which was bolted up high against the wall, a few board games in a cabinet, a few books and magazines, and a few jigsaw puzzles. Y/N guessed that the staff kept most of the recreation locked away until it was time to use it. 

Y/N adjusted the visitors badge that had been attached to her coat, briefly debating taking the coat off but deciding against it as she noticed a chill to the air as the air conditioner switched on making the cold space all the more icy.

She shifted in her seat crossing and uncrossing her legs. She frowned slightly regretting not wearing something more casual. 

She’d chosen to wear an outfit she might usually wear at work; a black dress, tights, a dark coat, and a pair of black ballet flats. 

She was technically making this trip during a work-day after all, so she’d dressed for the work day.

She sighed, staring down at her hands as she placed them on the table in front of her. She resisted the urge to pull out the pocket mirror she carried in her purse and check her appearance. She silently debated if she should have worn her makeup a little lighter. The darker lipstick most likely made her look all too much like a woman in her late twenties instead of the girl Daniel at times remembered her as being.

A voice in the back of her head warned her that Daniel might not entirely recognize her today, though she’d been told by the nurse that he was having a good memory day.

Y/N knew that most of the time though Daniel most likely still pictured her as that eighteen year old girl with a nostril piercing and an honestly peachy tone of pink hair that had faded over the summer, her roots all too noticeable. He remembered her as she’d been back when he was 24 years old, the year he’d had his accident.

She knew she’d grown since then. She no longer appeared to be that rebellious punky teen girl. She looked like an elegant young lady. 

It felt strange to realize that though she was the younger sibling it felt as though she'd somehow taken the role of the older sibling. She was older now than her brother had been when he'd had his accident.

She was certain her more professional adult look might seem alarming to him if his memory happened to be struggling that day.

Y/N wouldn’t lie, at times she feared that a day would come where Daniel would no longer recognize her as his sister. As they grew older she knew her appearance would change all the more. 

The doctors didn’t seem to have any clear answers as to whether his memory would decline further with his head injury. For the most part she felt that the doctors seemed to stick to the line that no head injury was exactly alike. She’d heard the promise that they would monitor his symptoms but only time would tell what the future held for him. 

All they knew was that her brother struggled with his impulse control, his emotional control, and occasionally short term memory. He also struggled with self-care; remembering to do something as simple as bathing and brushing his teeth. Then there was the issue of the seizures, though they were rare. 

The medications he took were meant to control the seizures as well as his emotional outbursts.

For the most part Y/N felt that the medications only made him drowsy and slow. They’d caused him to put on weight as they increased his appetite. That was why he would not stay on them if he was left to his own devices. He didn’t like how they made him feel, but without them his symptoms only worsened. 

She knew that because of all of these issues that the hospitalization was necessary. It didn’t stop her from feeling guilty as hell though.

She tried to appear as though she was carefree as the nurse she’d spoken to entered the room guiding her brother over to the table.

Y/N hesitated to reach for him as he was sat down at the table across from her. She always feared touching him first, almost certain that one day he would only see her as a stranger.

Her brother was clean shaven; it was a stark contrast to how he’d been before the accident. He usually always wore some scruff. His hair was no longer shaggy the same way he’d once kept it; instead it was cut shorter than he’d ever keep it if it was entirely up to him. He seemed far too pale and the dark circles under his eyes were far too noticeable. He was wearing the same thing he usually wore each time she saw him; gray sweatpants and a white t- shirt with socks and houseshoes. 

He was at least clean; the staff made sure he bathed. 

Y/N at least made sure to send him clothing as often as she could, always initialing the tags with his name so that it would hopefully not be misplaced when the laundry was done. The hospital bracelet he wore on his wrist alerted staff of his name and his level of care along with some other information. The print was always too fine to read without making her feel like she had to strain her eyes. 

She was relieved as he seemed to recognize her after a moment of uncertainty. He spoke his voice a raspy sluggish tone as his hand reached out for hers. “What are you doing here?”

Y/N spoke her voice soft as she tried to pretend the nurse wasn’t lingering nearby clearly monitoring the situation. “I was in the area. I thought I’d come for a visit.”

“Is dad here too?” The question spilled from Daniel’s lips Y/N doing all she could not to outwardly grimace.

Telling her brother that their father was dead was not something that had stuck in his memory. He went back and forth between remembering their father was dead to forgetting it entirely.

His doctors had advised her not to tell him that their father was dead during the times he seemed to forget. It was too upsetting to him, she’d been told. It would only make him relive the fresh grief over and over again.

“No, he couldn’t make it…work is busy. Skeeter and he had a big funeral they had to prep for.” Y/N lied through her teeth hating that it had to be like this.

She knew it was the best case scenario of course. It was cruel to keep making him relive that grief in times like this.

However it was difficult to pretend that their father wasn’t dead and buried in Charming’s cemetery where he’d been for months now. She knew well enough he was dead. She’d embalmed his body at his request in his final wishes. She’d chosen the casket and the flowers as well as the pamphlets for the funeral. She’d found a minister to speak at his funeral. She’d written the obituary and paid to have it posted in Charming’s local newspaper. She had stood in a receiving line for mourners playing the role of the bereaved instead of the funeral director. She’d had to take on the emotional and financial burden of the funeral. She had to read his will and realize her life was changed forever. 

She had to do it all by herself, and now she had to carry on this act pretending that none of that emotional turmoil had happened. 

Daniel twisted his lips, his brow furrowing. “He’s mad at me.”

“Why would you say that, sweetheart?” Y/N asked managing to give his hand a gentle squeeze trying to keep her voice level.

She winced a voice in the back of her head taunting her that she was an awful sister, lying to her brother carrying on this charade that their father was alive.

Daniel scoffed at the question, his brow furrowing further. “I don’t know…he’s just mad at me. I must have done something awful. That's why he never visits.”

Y/N sighed that cruel voice in the back of her head insisting if their father was still living and had any reason to be mad at anyone then she would probably be the one in deep shit at the moment given her current ties to SAMCRO. She was quite sure she would be the reigning champion of being the family disappointment at the moment. 

She pushed the thought from her mind, her voice cracking somewhat as she struggled not to start crying. “That isn’t true, my darling. He’s not mad at you. He loves you very much. He loves both of us more than we know. Even if we upset him, he’d never deny us that love. You know he’s always been there for us…even when we mess up. That’s the kind of dad he is. Remember that time I broke that brand new urn that we had in the display room because I kept playing in the display room after he told me not to. He was so upset but he didn’t even yell or spank me. It was a super expensive urn too…uh had the gold edges to it…it probably cost a fortune, but he only gave me a firm talking to and didn’t make me feel bad for it for too long. I was barely grounded. You know dad’s heart. He wears it on his sleeve. Even if you upset him, he wouldn’t be a jerk about it.”

She paused, taking a deep breath once again lying through her teeth. “You know how he is, Danny. He’s a workaholic. Once he gets caught up with work there’s no pulling him away. I’m sure he’s going to visit soon…maybe once work slows down.”

“When can I go home? I want to go home.” Daniel remarked, apparently moving on from the subject of their father on to another difficult subject.

She sighed, shaking her head, not surprised by the choice in subject. They had this talk often and it was always difficult.  “I don’t know when, Danny. You’re still not well. You have to stay here a little longer. Just until you get better. I know it’s hard, but you have to stay here a little longer.”

“I feel fine though. I feel okay, I just want to go home. Please, Y/N take me home.” He insisted his voice cracking, he squeezing her hand almost hard enough it hurt.

She took a deep breath shaking her head, a stray tear working its way down her cheek. She wiped it quickly with her free hand. “I can’t. I wish I could, but I can’t…not yet.”

“Why not?” He snapped, squeezing her hand even harder enough to make her flinch the pain shooting through her nerve endings.

She sighed as the nurse stepped forward ready to step into action if things got too out of hand. 

She spoke, taking a deep breath. “Because you aren’t well. I know you think you feel fine, but you aren’t ready to go home yet. Just be patient, sweetheart.”

“It’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to stay here.” He snapped again his grip on her hand not loosening even slightly.

She took another deep breath, shooting the nurse a glance of reassurance before she spoke again. “I know. I’m so sorry. I would take you home if I could, in a heartbeat. We have to wait though.”

She spoke again trying to distract him knowing it was the best method to take when he got worked up like this. “In the meantime try to find things to keep you busy. The grounds here are nice, aren’t they? I saw some flower beds the last time I was here. I know you like going outside and seeing them when it's nice out. You should see the greenhouse back home. The tomatoes and cucumbers are getting big…the strawberries are looking good too. I can bring you some strawberries next time, if they’ll let me. You like those right? The strawberries were always your favorite. I know you didn’t care much for the gardening part of it…except for that time you grew that marijuana plant that you tried to hide behind my tomato plant. I was so annoyed when I found it…and it didn’t really work anyway because you couldn’t keep enough light on it to actually do anything. Remember that?”

“I don’t care, I want to go home.” Daniel snapped at her squeezing all the harder she audibly letting out a gasp the pain becoming a little too much to ignore.

With this the nurse stepped forward two orderlies seeming to appear out of nowhere.

Y/N cringed as her brother was yanked from her by two large orderlies while fighting against the pull. She held her aching hand trying to ignore the pain and keep her voice soothing as she spoke to him. “Daniel, please. Don’t fight them. Just take a deep breath and calm down. It’s okay, just calm down, please, my darling.”

Of course, her soothing did little good, her brother struggling against the hold. Y/N shrank away as the nurse stepped forward placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ve got this handled, Miss. Y/L/N. Don’t worry. We’re going to give him something to relax him.”

Y/N parted her lips tempted to snap that she didn’t want him doped up more than he already was, but she kept the words at bay

She turned her eyes to the floor feeling helpless as the nurse guided her from the room. She felt the tears begin to fall at the words that were shouted at her by her big brother as she left the room. “I hate you! I don’t want you to come back! I hate you!”

—---

She didn’t allow the tears to fully fall until she left the building, practically collapsing against a bench on the walkway up to the entrance.

She took a deep breath trying her best to keep her composure as she wiped at her eyes furiously. 

She was thankful that there were seemingly no other visitors nearby though she had a feeling if there were they would not pay her any mind. She had a feeling her reaction was a normal one for those visiting loved ones at the institution.

She took another deep breath trying hard to push the last words she’d heard her brother say from her mind.

She knew he didn’t mean them, not really. That was the thing about his condition. The filter that should stop him from saying the first thing that came to his mind just didn’t exist anymore.

Y/N stared down at her purse, opening it and searching through it for the travel sized container of tissues she always carried, her hands brushing across her cell phone.

She was stunned as a thought crossed her mind; she wanted Filip.

It felt odd to admit, even if it was only in her head.

It had been a few weeks since that date they’d had and surprisingly Chibs had called her loyally every single day. Although the calls were never quite at the same time each day, they still managed to be a daily occurrence.

It was strange to admit that she’d found some comfort in the calls.

The calls were something she actually found herself looking forward to.

It was almost funny to consider how a few weeks before she had just wanted her admittedly criminally prone Scottish admirer to get lost, but now she happily anticipated the daily phone conversations they had.

She was a bit surprised that he had not pushed her to plan the second date she’d promised him. A small part of her had to wonder if perhaps he was waiting on her to make the next move. It felt almost amusing to consider that the scary outlaw was feeling nervous and waiting for her to make the next move. 

The phone conversations they'd had felt light, especially considering the way she’d practically dumped her past traumas into his lap on that first date.

They’d talked about their days, Y/N discussing whichever body she was prepping or her frustrations with the local florist who was always screwing up orders for funeral flowers. He’d talk about something dumb Half-Sack or Juice had done and a bike or car he was working on at the garage.

She’d found that she liked the clear sense of adoration she heard in his voice when he discussed his brothers even when he called them idiots. She’d also discovered that she liked the passion in his voice when he talked about whatever motorcycle he was repairing. 

She’d enjoyed listening to him discuss a terrible but healthy smoothie Juice had tried to get him to drink or something truly awkward Half-Sack had managed to say right in front of Clay. 

She was surprised to find that Chibs made her laugh. Even when she was stuck in the gloom of embalming a difficult case that felt honestly depressing; she was able to place Chibs on speaker phone and feel some sense of light through the gloom. 

The conversations had felt easy with him though they hadn’t necessarily been deep conversations.

It still felt nice; discussing her day with someone. It wasn’t something she’d had with someone in a very very long time.

She was stunned to admit that she had found a sense of comfort with Chibs. It was such a contradiction when she said it outloud; the dangerous outlaw biker felt comforting. 

She was surprised to find that he was sweet; it was something she’d not expected. She knew no one would believe her. It sounded like another huge contradiction; the admitted criminal was sweet.

She wasn’t naive of course. She knew that Chibs most likely had a side to himself that was far from sweet. She was aware enough to know that he had most likely done horrible things in the past and was capable of doing terrible things in the future.

It was a simple fact that she was surprised failed to invoke fear in her. If anything, a voice in the back of her head was quick to remind her that she’d done a few awful things of her own lately…even if those awful things were at SAMCRO’s request.

That voice in the back of her head still taunted her of course that Chibs would only lead her back to being the unhappy girl she was living in the chaos of SAMCRO. The voice was all quick to call Chibs a devil who’d tempt her back into being in that dark place she’d been in almost a decade before. The voice insisted he’d lead her right back into hell. It reminded her of something her grandmother used to say; you can’t dance with the devil and then keep wondering why you’re in hell. 

Another voice snapped that it was hard to believe she would be unhappy though. She certainly didn’t feel unhappy around him. Being around him didn’t feel like she was in hell. Sure, she was aware that the world he existed in came with a level of chaos. 

She reasoned that in a way she had already signed herself back up for that chaos. She’d signed herself up for it the second she’d agreed to help SAMCRO out and had insisted she would be their new funeral home contact for future favors.

She had asked the devil to dance first hadn’t she?

She was still surprised she’d felt so comfortable explaining everything with her brother and dumping some of her childhood traumas onto Chibs. She was even more surprised that he’d not run screaming.

Y/N could admit she’d not exactly been open about the darker aspects of her childhood and teen years with past boyfriends.

She had only mentioned that she’d been raised in a funeral home and her brother was special needs. She’d casually mentioned she’d been rebellious at one point in her life not going into too much detail.

With Chibs, she’d realized that he’d find out the reality of her brother eventually. If she didn’t say something, surely someone around town would mention it. 

She’d guessed telling him herself would at least let her control the narrative. At least if it came from her lips then he’d get the truth and not whatever wild tale he might hear from someone else.

Somehow even with the truth about her brother and the darker aspects of her childhood, Chibs had not seemed to shy away.

It was something she was astonished by. She was accustomed to people leaving when she was too much.

She’d more often than not been told she was too exhausting to be around. She’d more than often been referenced to as being difficult by boyfriends and friends alike. She was too morbid, too snarky, too moody, and just flat out too much to put up with for the long-term.

Chibs didn’t seem to think that she was too much.

So maybe that was why she reached for her cell phone dialing the familiar number.

She let out a breath she’d not even realized she’d been holding at the sound of his voice on the other end of the line. “Hen, I was jus’ thinkin’ bout ya.”

She managed to feel a small tight smile cross her features at the statement. She was no longer tempted to tell him that he was full of shit and just trying to flatter his way into her pants.

He’d often started out the phone calls he made to her the same way I wanted to call because I was thinking about you.

It felt nice to believe that he thought about her enough to want to hear her voice.

She managed to speak grimacing as she realized her voice felt as weepy as she felt. “Hey.”

“What’s wrong? Ya sound rough, lass.” The concern was evident in his voice. She could distinctly hear the sounds of the garage in the background hinting he was at TM Auto.

The noise grew fainter indicating he seemed to be moving further from the garage most likely wanting to find some privacy for their conversation.

“I just…I’m out in Lodi…visiting my brother.” She admitted staring down at her lap the stark black of her clothing looking inky and harsh against the pale concrete below her feet.

“Aye, wasn’t a good visit I’m guessin’?” Chibs was fast to respond that concern still so clear in his voice.

She let out a weak laugh shaking her head as she responded. “No, no it wasn’t”

Chibs was fast to speak his voice taking a softer tone, the sound feeling soothing. “Ya wanna talk ‘bout it?” 

“I kind of want a good stiff drink to be honest…but uh…yeah…I mean, it’s just difficult. He doesn’t remember our dad is…gone…and he doesn’t get why he can’t go home. It’s just…it’s a shit situation. The last thing he said before I left was that he hates me and never wants me to come back.” She remarked a shaky sigh leaving her, her eyes still focused on the pavement below her trying hard to not let herself break down again.

“Oh, Hen, ya know that ain’ true righ’. He doesn’ mean it. He’s jus’...confused, love. Yer his sister. He loves ya.” was the reply she received. She was a bit surprised to hear a hint of shakiness in his own voice.

“I know, I know…he’s no longer has the ability to stop himself from saying the first thing that comes to his mind…I mean most people if they’re upset might first think they hate someone…but usually that filter in their head will stop them from just blurting that out…his filter…it just doesn’t do what it should. I just hate it…today was allegedly supposed to be a good memory day too…so much for that.” She remarked another shaky sigh escaping her lips.

She swallowed the lump developing in the back of her throat before she spoke again not having it in her to hate how needy her voice sounded. “Can you talk to me about something different…anything? Something nice?”

She was surprised by the response she got. “Ya ever had shortbread? Scottish Shortbread?”

“Uh, I mean…I’ve had shortbread cookies…from the grocery store.” She admitted, a bit thrown off by the conversation choice, but she had requested that he talk about literally anything else other than her current situation.

She rolled her eyes, unable to stop the hint of a genuine smile from crossing her lips at his quick reply. “Nah, not that. That’s pure shite, Hen. Leave that grocery store prepackaged stuff alone. I’m talkin’ real Scottish shortbread.”

“I guess, I’ve never had it then. What’s so special about it?” She dared to ask the misery she felt a moment before lifting by the second.

Chibs didn’t waste a moment to reply. “It’s amazin’, one of my favorites. My ma used to make it the best…I can’ get hers round here of course. The trick is ya gotta have it fresh, with tea or milk on the side. I’m gettin’ ya some real shortbread. Ya gotta try it at leas’ once.”

She spoke, shaking her head the words falling from her lips. “Maybe you should take me to get some then. I apparently need to see what I’m missing.”

“Aye, ya askin’ me out on a date, Hen?” The response came so naturally a flirty tone entering his voice.

She smirked it not taking her long to answer. “I am…and I won’t even bribe you with car repairs.”

She felt as though the misery she’d felt just moments ago was long gone as Chibs managed to laugh at the response he fast to respond. “Aye, ya don’ gotta bribe me to take ya out, love.”

She shook her head ignoring the cruel voice in the back of her head that claimed she belonged locked up right alongside her brother if she was agreeing to another date.

She distinctly remembered the comment Gemma had made the day she’d given Y/N a ride home. It's never just one date.

It would seem indeed that it was not destined to be just one date.

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

Chibs sighed, his stomach churning as Tig gazed up at him as he passed by the bar in SAMCRO’s clubhouse. “You going to see Y/N again?”

Chibs let out a huff knowing that the cologne he’d put on had most likely given him away. He’d only worn it once afterall the last time he’d taken Y/N out. He was certain Juice must have blabbed his big mouth all about Chibs’ big date and the effort he’d put into his appearance for said date . “Aye, I am.”

“You’ve been talking to her a lot lately. Lots of phone calls.” Tig observed the comment making Chibs feel uneasy.

“Aye.” He kept the response short, shifting the box of shortbread he’d rode out to pick up from a bakery early this morning before they had a chance to sell out.

It wasn’t his mother’s shortbread but it was the closest thing he could find all the way out in California.

“So, you hitting that?” Tig dared to ask, Chibs narrowing his eyes at the question, his free hand that wasn’t holding the box of cookies forming a fist.

He pushed back the desire to throw a punch as he replied. “Ain’ none of yer business.”

Tig smirked, clearly spotting he’d maybe struck a nerve with his brother. Occasionally he could admit he liked pushing his brothers’ buttons…mostly out of boredom.

He’d taken notice of course, that Chibs had been skipping out on Friday night parties and had definitely been neglecting the croweaters.

There was only one possible thing keeping Chibs so distracted. He’d definitely noticed the little looks Chibs had sent SAMCRO’s new asset that night at the crematorium. 

Tig didn’t particularly care to be honest. He was struck by a sense of curiosity though.

He had been around almost a decade before when Y/N had been a frequent visitor to the clubhouse. He could remember the mouthy girl who had been more than willing to drink and smoke a joint. He could also distinctly remember that she’d been less than interested in letting him in her pants….and he’d tried quite hard to charm his way into them.

He could admit it was a bit of a knock to the ego to think that Chibs might very well be traversing territory Tig had failed to explore. He had to admit he felt envious of the Scot.

Tig shook his head. “Just saying, brother. Be careful with that one. She knows a million ways to get rid of a body. I wouldn’t piss her off.”

“Ya ain’ got nothin to worry bout.” Chibs snapped thinking back to the tense conversation he’d had with Clay before that first date he’d had with Y/N.

Tig shook his head a sigh leaving him not helping but to prod a little more even if he knew his next statement was an asshole move. He could admit that a sense of jealousy was maybe pushing him to run his mouth. “I’m guessing little Miss. Death doesn’t know about your wife back in Belfast…pretty sure you’d already be in a casket somewhere if she did. Didn’t think she’d be cool with being a mistress. I mean, she was wild back in the day, tight as hell and a great set of tits from what I heard too, but she still had some moral backbone.”

Chibs moved forward, his fist partially raising but he didn’t have a chance to get far, Juice taking enough notice to step in between Chibs and Tig. Juice maneuvered Chibs away quick to speak. “Let’s take a walk man, come on.”

“Ya keep yer fuckin mouth shut bout her. Ya don’ know what yer talkin bout.” Chibs snapped sending a warning glare at Tig's direction as Juice pushed him away.

Chibs yanked from Juice’s attempts he glaring down at the younger man. “I don’ need a fuckin’ walk. Ya tell that prick if he ever mentions her body or calls her a mistress again I’ll fuckin’ bash his head in.”

Juice groaned as he watched Chibs storm off towards his bike. He rolled his eyes as Tig approached him, the man shrugging his shoulders apparently not minding the death threat. “Was it something I said?”

Juice shook his head as he watched Chibs ride off. He sent Tig a look he speaking. “Really?”

Tig shrugged, playing innocent. “I’m just looking out for him. She finds out about his wife, he’s dead meat. Not to mention, if he pisses her off real good then we lose our funeral home contact.”

Juice shook his head, not responding as he made his way back into the clubhouse. He had to hope that if Chibs continued whatever he had going on with Y/N that he explained his complex past and she didn’t murder him.  

Even with as crude as Tig had been, Chibs most likely would be buried alive if he kept that tidbit of information from Y/N.

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

Y/N sighed as a firm knock sounded at her office door, cracking slightly Skeeter’s head barely peeking in. 

The man spoke, his eyes rolling ever so slightly at the information he was about to share with his boss. “You have a gentleman caller.”

Chibs frowned, unable to see past Skeeter as Y/N let out a groan from behind the half closed door. “I can’t decide if that’s worse than calling him the outlaw biker. It sounds less panic inducing to anyone that might overhear it, but it makes me sound like I’m some sort of freaking Southern Belle.”

She paused before speaking again. “Well, let him in.”

Skeeter did as he was told though he looked as though he’d much rather deny Chibs entry. Chibs didn’t miss the stern look of disapproval as he passed by the mortician.

Y/N spoke, spotting that Skeeter was still lingering. “You can go, Skeet. I promise I’m fine all on my lonesome.”

Chibs didn’t miss the glare Skeeter sent his way before he shut the door behind him.

He took a deep breath trying to calm any rage that was still lingering around in his gut after his confrontation with Tig. He refused to let her see the enraged parts of him.

He studied her, the sight of her soothing him. She was dressed in another work outfit, another black dress similar to the one he’d seen her wear the first time he’d come to the funeral home.

He had to wonder how many black dresses she owned. He had a feeling it had to be quite a few.

She pushed back her chair standing up from her desk and rounded it as she made her way over to him.

She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, the action soothing him further. She spoke, spotting the tension practically vibrating off him. ‘Are you okay? You seem…agitated.”

Chibs did his best to give her a smile though he knew it came out as more of a grimace. “Jus’ Tig bein a fuckin’ prick.”

She let out a small bitter laugh rolling her eyes at the comment. “I guess he hasn’t changed much in my time away.”

Chibs took a deep breath tempted to ask her if she’d ever been intimate with Tig, but he bit his tongue.

He had a feeling she’d not given Tig had only commented on what he’d heard about her.

Chibs silently reminded himself that he didn’t care what her past with SAMCRO was. She had said it herself. She was no longer a club hangaround.

A possessive little voice piped up in the back of Chibs’ head insisting she was his now. Another voice piped up that he’d meant what he’d said to Tig. He’d kill the man if he ever commented on her body ever again. He didn’t care if the man was his brother, he’d bash his face in. 

He took a few more deep breaths trying to calm himself. 

Another thing Tig had said had troubled Chibs; the mention of Fiona. It was something Chibs knew would have to come up sooner than later.

Chibs knew Tig was right about one thing…if he kept that part of his past hidden from Y/N she’d probably shove him in the ground. In fact, Chibs was sure that if he withheld this information from her then Y/N would bury him so deep that the devil himself would need a shovel to dig him back up again.

He took a deep breath holding out the box of shortbread he’d gotten; he was no longer as giddy about presenting it to her as he’d been moments before. “I got ya somethin.”

She took it from him, a soft laugh leaving her becoming distracted from his clearly tense mood. “Shortbread. I’m supposed to drink it with tea right, or milk?”

“Aye, whichever ya want. Try it tonigh’ and let me know what ya think.” Chibs replied, his strained mood fading by the second. 

She placed the box on her desk giving him a soft smile. “You didn’t have to come all the way over here just to give me some cookies.”

“Aye, I wanted to…I was hopin’ I could take ya out fer lunch too.” Chibs insisted, having made up his mind on the way to the Funeral Home.

He had to come clean about his past. He had to open up and pray she didn’t hate his guts or assume he was attempting to make her into the other woman.

She gave him a soft smile nodding down to her clothing. “Do you mind if I change shoes? I don’t think heels are a smart idea on the back of a bike.”

He nodded his head trying his best to give her a smile and hide the anxiety beginning to bubble in his stomach. “Aye, heels are probably not a good idea, Hen. I’ll wait on ya.”

She pressed another kiss to his cheek, that warm feeling washing over him again soothing a bit more of his agitation and anxiety.

He watched her leave the room, taking a deep breath as he dropped down into one of the chairs across from her desk.

He stared around the office studying the multitude of items. He clasped his hands together spotting a thick binder sitting on a shelf behind her desk that was labeled casket catalog 2007-2008.

He prayed to any God that might be listening that she wouldn’t shove him in any of those caskets after he broke the news about the life he’d been banished from in Belfast.

Chibs tried to find something less distressing to focus on. His eyes caught a photo on the wall it lifting his spirits momentarily. 

He barely recognized Y/N in the photo. She was so young, clearly barely a teenager. He could distinctly spot a pair of braces on her teeth and a t-shirt emblazoned with Charming’s nearest high school’s mascot. He guessed that perhaps it was a photo leftover from when the office had belonged to her father.

Another photo was framed beside it. Y/N was even younger in this one sat on the front porch of the Funeral Home with a little boy beside her. She looked quite miserable in the soft pink dress she was wearing judging by the clear scowl fixed into her little features. He felt his stomach turn realizing the boy sitting beside her had to be her older brother.

He sighed thinking back to the phone call they’d had the day before after she visited her brother, hoping he wasn’t about to give her another reason to cry. 

He didn’t have long to focus on the fear as the office door opened the object of his adoration reentering the room, a pair of black converse on her feet and a dark coat over her dress.

She spoke nodding to him. “Okay, I’m ready when you are.”

He stood up taking her hand in his once again praying to anyone who might happen to be listening that he wasn’t about to lose the woman he’d just barely managed to start winning over.

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

The taco stand was a bit of a surprise. Y/N didn’t think much of it though, deciding that she was just happy to have a second date with Chibs even if it was a little more spontaneous than she’d expected.

They sat outside on benches the weather thankfully not cool enough for the outdoor space to feel uncomfortable. They seemed to be the only patrons at this stand and she hoped that this wasn’t a sign of the quality of their meal. 

Chibs himself was debating if the taco truck was the best plan. He’d decided that an outdoor space was probably best for the bombshell he was about to drop on her. 

He sighed as she spoke, raising an eyebrow at him taking notice of the fact that he seemed distracted. He’d not even touched his food yet and had seemed dazed as he’d ordered. “Are you sure everything is okay? I mean, how bad did Tig piss you off?”

She cringed worrying that she was pushing it. She imagined it had something to do with the club. She wasn’t sure if they were at the level where Chibs was going to be that open with her about anything related to the club despite her partnership with SAMCRO as a provider of favors.

Chibs let out another sigh deciding he wouldn’t repeat exactly what Tig had said. He had a feeling she’d probably kill the man for commenting on her body in that crude of a manner especially in relation to her past. “He’s jus’ an arse sometimes. It’s jus…I got somthin to tell ya.”

She felt her stomach roll hating that statement. It sounded so ominous. “What’s going on?”

Chibs sighed, deciding to ease into this. “I know I ain’ told ya much bout my family.”

Y/N spoke her cheeks flushing the words falling from her. “I haven’t given you much of a chance. I mean…I kind of turned our first date into a trauma dumping session. I didn’t leave you much room to talk about your own family.”

Chibs spoke, shaking his head reaching out his hand pressing over hers. “It’s fine, Hen. I didn’ mind it.”

He took a deep breath speaking again the words falling out of his lips. “I have a daughter.”

She widened her eyes, not expecting that. She guessed it shouldn’t be too surprising though. He was in his forties. He had to have some life before her. “How old is she?”

“Thirteen…Kerrianne…her name is Kerrianne.” Chibs responded a small smile crossing her features.

“That’s a pretty name, I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before. What’s she like?” Y/N asked genuinely curious to know.

She was surprised she didn’t mind the concept of dating a guy with a kid. She’d never really been around children, but she liked them. She had never really put much thought into if she wanted children of her own. She found that she liked Chibs enough to accept that he was a parent and to accept whatever role she played in that if their relationship should progress to that point. 

Chibs cringed the words falling from him. “I don’ know…I ain’ seen her since she was bout four.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop at this information. He was a deadbeat? She felt her stomach sour at the thought. 

Chibs sighed, shaking his head, spotting the look on her face only able to imagine the thoughts running through her mind. He had a feeling none of them were positive. He spoke again the words sliding from his lips before he could stop them. “She lives in Belfast…with my wife.”

Y/N was certain if she had a drink in her hand she would have tossed it in his face. She glared at him, yanking her hand from his her voice harsh. “You’re fucking married? Are you serious?” 

She scoffed getting up from the bench before he had a chance to register what was happening. 

She spoke, snatching up her purse and her coat as she prepared herself to leave her temper rising by the second. “What am I then? Am I just some stateside fun? Was I meant to be the girl you fucked in the US while your wife and kid sit back in Ireland? I mean, I knew you SAMCRO guys were kind of dysfunctional when it came to relationships and monogamy but this really takes the cake on fucked up. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me from Jackson and all your little friends down at the clubhouse. I know I haven’t always been smart about the guys I’ve hooked up with in the past, but I have developed way more of a sense of self worth than I had almost a decade ago. I am no one’s fucking mistress. Have a nice life Chibs…actually, no, you have the life you deserve. You are such an asshole.”

Chibs scrambled up from the bench moving quick to follow her. He reached out taking her hand in his not shocked as she yanked it away her voice raising. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

Chibs moved fast moving in front of her placing his hands on her shoulder he fast to speak. “Just give me five minutes…Jus’ five minutes to explain.”

“Explain what? You’re a married deadbeat dad, I’m the other woman. End of story. Good riddance.” She snapped moving aside trying to move past him.

Chibs moved just as fast stepping in front of her. “There’s more to the story, lass. Jus’ please, hear me out. If ya still hate me after I tell ya the entire story, I’ll fuck off.”

She groaned tempted to tell him that there was not a story on this planet he could tell to explain away the bombshell he’d just dropped on her.

She gazed up at him, hating to admit that she noticed the longing in his eyes. There was a sense of desperation there that she didn’t like. 

She let out a huff crossing her arms over her chest. “You have five minutes. If I sense even an ounce of bullshit, I’m leaving and not looking back.”

Chibs nodded his head nodding over to a nearby bench. “Can we sit?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Fine, but the time to go to the bench and sit deducts from the five minute timeline I set.”

He spoke as they sat he sighing. “Fiona an I are estranged. I ain’ seen her in close to a decade now. I ain’ even spoke to her on the phone.”

“But you haven’t divorced her and you don’t see your kid.” Y/N snapped not entirely impressed if this was his attempt to explain himself.

Chibs cringed fast to speak again. “It ain' an option… neither the divorce or seein my Kerrianne.” 

He paused, spotting the look of annoyance on her features as she spoke. “Let me guess? Getting divorced is a huge Catholic no no? Is being a deadbeat dad just a passion project for you?”

Chibs let out a huff shaking his head. “I ain’ exactly practicin’ So, no’ entirely and I ain’t a deadbeat by choice.”

She glared at him her words harsh. “ Don’t you dare try to feed me that my ex is nuts and won’t let me see my kid bullshit. I have heard it from a guy before and I don’t believe the story.”

He spoke shaking his head. “This ain’t me being some arsehole da abandonin his kid. Fiona ain’t the one keepin me away.”

He paused, clearing his throat knowing he had to tell the entrie story, every painful detail. “I met Fiona when I was sixteen. I’d moved to Belfast with my ma an my sister Cait. We moved from one housin’ estate to another…we were poor…My da…he was a real prick…mean bastard who no one missed when he walked out…my ma worked herself to the bone to barely scrape by. I was angry, mad at the world. I was pissed at the government and establishment in general. Fiona…er family was involved in the cause. Third generation…True IRA.”

He paused not wanting to meet Y/N’s eyes as he explained this bit of information. He spoke again, a sigh leaving him. “She talked bout the cause…bout her family. Told me grand tales of the figh’ fer a free Ireland. I was entranced with her stories…entranced with her. By the time we were married I was fully involved in the cause.”

He took another deep breath taking a chance to peek over at Y/N not liking that a hint of fear had joined the rage in her eyes.

He spoke again hoping that even if she understood the history behind Fiona and him that the mention of his involvement with the cause wouldn’t destroy things anyhow. “There was this lad…an ol’ friend of Fiona’s…they were childhood friends. He knew her before I did…Jimmy O’Phalen. He loved her before I did…He hated me…hated that I won Fiona…hated that she loved me…hated my background. He claimed I couldn’t be loyal to the cause given my ancestry…I wasn’ Irish, so I wasn’t as dedicated…I didn’ pay him any mind. I kept on with the cause. Life went on. The years passed by. Fiona an I somehow survived all of our twenties intact..made it to our thirties.”

“Kerrianne…she was born and it was like my life…it got brighter. I loved bein’ her da. I saw it as a chance to be a better lad than my bastard of a da. I stopped bein’ so angry…I…Jimmy O’ called it a weakness…He rose up in the ranks of the cause…got himself into a pretty high spot on the food chain…He started sowing distrust among others involved…started sayin’ I was a loyalist to the crown…sayin I was not truly dedicated…and then when my Kerrianne was barely a year old…Jimmy O’ did this to me.” Chibs explained reaching up to slide along the scars embedded into the flesh along his cheeks.

He paused his throat growing tight still not wanting to meet Y/N’s eyes. He spoke again a shaky sigh leaving him. “I gotta nother scar, along my belly. He tried to gut me too…it was…I almost died…I los’ a lotta blood, lost consciousness. I think the face…the attack was a play on my birthplace…Glasgow…He…he changed his mind toward the end I guess, decided not to kill me. Decided to give me a chance to live. Had his crew drop me off at the front steps to a hospital. He excommunicated me from the cause.”

“Fiona…your daughter?” Y/N dared to ask amazed she found the words as she tried to absorb everything he’d told her thus far her mind going a million different directions all at once.

Chibs let out a shaky breath the words falling from his lips. “Jimmy O’ took em as his…Fer over a decade now…they’ve been with him. He took my wife an’ raised my little girl as his own. Told me if I ever tried to get em back he’d kill em.”

He shook his head a sigh leaving him. “I wished I’d died tha’ nigh’ fer a long time….i wished he’d just killed me instead of keeping me alive to torment me. I joined up with SAMBEL…Belfast Sons. I knew em from business with the cause. I was their firs’ prospect. They took care of me. I found my place in that world.  I…I tried to watch my Kerrianne from a’far…Jimmy O’ let me fer a wee bit…guess he liked dangling her round me…tormenting me with seein’ her from far away…I lasted in SAMBEL fer a few years…but it jus’ it got so…it hur’ seein’ my sweet wee Kerrianne…not bein’ able to even go near her. The chance to patch over to SAMCRO came up an I took it. I wanted to escape.”

He dared to look over at Y/N as he spoke, explaining himself. “Divorcin’ Fiona ain’ an option. Jimmy O’ won’ even let us speak on the phone…I ain’ seen her since I left Belfast. Ya ain’ my mistress. Ya can’t be the other woman when the only reason I ain’ divorced is ‘cause I can’t even talk to my estranged wife to start a divorce.”

Y/N let out a shaky sigh, her mind and her heart feeling heavy. She let everything he’d just told her soak into her brain, her mind going a million different directions. 

The rage she’d felt left her body making her feel exhausted. She felt as though she’d been hit by a mack truck. She felt so drained that all she wanted was to lie down and not move again for a long while. 

Those pesky voices in the back of her mind that screamed that Chibs would lead her to ruin were so fast to speak up insisting that everything he’d just told her was the only evidence she needed to know that he’d lead her to destruction.

Her heart spoke up easily picking up on the pain in his voice as he recalled the story. She thought of him lying in a hospital recovering from the attack all alone wishing for death knowing he’d lost everything. 

She thought of his reaction each time she’d kissed his cheek thus far, the look on his face that told her that no one had shown him that kind of softness. It hit her that she’d kissed a reminder of all that he’d lost.

She let the realization that he was still legally married roll through her brain debating his insistence that she was not his mistress. 

She thought of his daughter and his wife, what their lives must be with the man who had harmed Chibs. She questioned why Fiona had not fought for him though she cursed herself for having such a thought. She didn’t know how she would react if it had been her…if she’d been a mother. 

She felt her stomach turn, her mind flashing back to what he’d said about the True IRA. The thought frightened her. 

She sighed knowing that she’d already realized that Chibs had most likely done horrible things in the past and would do horrible things in the future. She knew he’d never pretended not to be a criminal…at least to her.

She felt a voice in the back of her mind perk up pointing out that Chibs had not given her a reason to think he might harm her. If he was going to harm her he would have killed her that night in the cemetery when she was burying those cremains.

Yes, his past involvement with the cause definitely made her stomach turn and she had a feeling that SAMCRO was still involved given his mention of SAMBEL being involved with the True IRA.

A voice in the back of her head piped up that she wasn’t exactly innocent. She’d done some pretty heinous things for the club lately.

The realization hit her that she didn’t feel afraid of him even with the past misdeeds he may have done for the cause. Even with what he’d done…what he would do in the future for the Sons; she was shocked to find that she didn’t fear for her life. 

Chibs felt as though he was the last person on this planet she expected might harm her. Filip Chibs Telford was no monster. 

She thought of how sweet he’d been on that first date and how lovely he continued to be. 

A monster wouldn’t hold her hand so gently while she spilled her heart about her brother  and her past. A monster wouldn’t bring her shortbread. A monster would never look at her like she was a fine work of art. 

Chibs dared to speak knowing he had to spill his heart as a last ditch effort to hopefully not lose her. “I ain’ been interested in a woman fer more than sex since I…since Fiona…I took advantage of all that came with the clubhouse.”

Y/N cringed decoding that he meant the croweaters. 

Chibs spoke again, a sigh leaving him. “I let myself get swallowed up by life in the Sons...I didn’ want to feel…din’ want to let my heart get involved…Then I met ya. I didn’t expect ya…didn’ expect I’d like ya as much as I do. All I know is yer the firs’ woman I met in over a decade who I wan’ more than just sex with. I like bein’ with ya. I love talkin’ to ya. I think bout ya more often than not. I feel good with ya around. I’m havin a good time with ya and I want to see where it takes us. I don’t want to lose ya when I’ve jus’ barely gotten to have ya. I know I ain’ conventional…I may not be able to give ya the traditional path mos’ relationships take…I jus’ know that when I’m with ya…I don’ want get swallowed up by chaos to escape the misery. So, all I’m askin’ fer is the chance even if it ain’ conventional.”

Y/N let the words marinate in her mind. She picked up on what he said about wanting to be swallowed by chaos to escape feeling awful. Wasn’t that what had led her to hanging around SAMCRO almost a decade before?

She sighed at the realization that no, Chibs would not exactly be able to offer her the stereotypical relationship path. If he was still married there would be no white wedding in the future.

She furrowed her brow knowing she wasn’t exactly in the place in this relationship with him to even consider marriage. The concept of even thinking that far into the future this soon in a relationship that was barely even beginning to bloom was preposterous. 

She glanced over at Chibs her heart telling her that she’d had fun with him. She didn’t want to sink into misery and isolation when he was around. 

She recalled the thought she’d had that first date when she had to leave to attend to the deceased that had fallen into the care of her funeral home.

For the first time in her life she preferred the company of someone living and didn’t want to avoid life to tend to the dead.

Her heart screamed that she didn’t want to go back to isolating herself and spending all her time with the dead.

She wanted to live. Chibs made her want to live.

She reached out, making up her mind, her hand sliding over his as she spoke. “Do you promise me every single thing you just said to me is the absolute truth? I am not the other woman?”

“I swear to ya. You are not a mistress. I may be a bastard, but I ain’ goin to lie bout that.” Chibs insisted his heart daring to lift just the slightest.

Y/N sighed telling the fears in the back of her head to shut up, deciding to listen to what her heart screamed. “Okay. I’m here…I’m not going anywhere Filip.”

She paused, shaking her head as she spoke again. “I’ve never been the conventional type…I don’t expect traditional from you…at least not in the white picket fence stereotype ... .I do expect monogamy, Filip. If you want someone who’s fine sitting by while you get your dick wet somewhere else then I’m not the girl for you.”

“I am fine with that. I don’ want anyone else, Hen. I haven’ even considered it since we met.” He replied being completely honest with her, surprised to find that he didn’t think he’d miss the freedom of not being committed. 

She paused, deciding to be honest. “Just promise me something Filip…Swear to me that I’m not a cheap replacement or a fill in for your estranged wife. I can’t be a substitute for what you want ... .I can’t just be the girl you bide your time with while you wait for what you really want to come back to you.  I have already filled the role as a substitute pussy for a guy in the past. I refuse to do that again. I don’t want to be used to fill a void in a man. I’m worth more than that.” 

Chibs furrowed his brow surprised by the anger that bubbled up in him at her admission about this man from her past. 

He gave her hand a squeeze, the words leaving him without hesitation. “Yer not fillin any void fer me…ya ain’ a substitute fer Fiona.  I ain’ bidin my time with ya. I want ya fully and completely fer exactly who ya are. Ya ain’ filling a spot fer anyone else.” 

She let out a shaky breath, her heart insisting that this was all she needed to know.

She leaned in her lips close to his cheek as she spoke. “Is this okay?”

He widened his eyes as he realized what she was asking. He nodded his head quick to reply. “Yes, please.”

She pressed her lips to his cheek he surprised by the dampness gathering at the corners of his eyes.

The kiss remained lingering, Y/N reaching up to wipe a stray tear from his face as she finally pulled back.

She spoke her voice soft, finding some humor in the moment. “Okay, next date no trauma. We aren’t allowed to cry on the third date.”

Chibs let the laugh leave him, he nodding his head agreeing wholeheartedly.

He wrapped an arm around her waist not helping but to tease her the horrible mood he’d been in all afternoon lifting. “So, I’m gettin a third date?”

She leaned into his embrace a small laugh leaving her. “So long as you promise we don’t cry.”

“Aye no tears from me.” He insisted, squeezing her all the tighter.

She relaxed against him, her eyes closing her body feeling lighter than it had felt in so long.

She knew this was far from conventional but she wasn’t lying. She’d never been a conventional girl.

[daughterofcain-67]

𝙾𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙾𝚞𝚛 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 : 𝙴𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎

(Soldier Boy x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: just a conclusion of this story where Y/N finally get their happy ending and Ben gets the life he’s always wanted 🩷

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Ben being self conscious of future parental abilities, Y/N being reassuring, the smallest amount of angst if you squint, but mostly just pure fluff 🥰

One Year Later

You hadn’t dreamed of returning to the states. You and Ben have had such a blast exploring the world together, seeing places you had only wished you could have seen before. You had no idea how beautiful other countries were.

You and Ben had visited France, Italy, Greece, Scotland, Ireland, Switzerland, Costa Rica, Peru, Thailand, and New Zealand. The two of you had seen so much over the past year and it had been the best experience you’ve shared in your life, and the best part that you were able to share it with Ben with no one chasing either of you. Neither of you had to be on constant guard for Vought or The Boys, neither of you were on any watch lists because both of you were presumed dead in America. So that gave you and Ben the freedom to roam wherever you wished.

It genuinely seemed to help Ben too. He didn’t have as many flare ups and there weren’t any other explosions. The nightmares he had seemed to subside at least a little. You truly thought that this adventure was helping Ben, that retirement looked good on Ben.

For the past couple of days, you and Ben had gone to Canada after hitching a ride on some cargo plane - your main form of transportation at this point. The two of you were staying in some cabin in the mountains. It must’ve been some sort of guest home to someone because there was still furniture in the cabin despite there. Not being any sign of anyone staying in the building for a while.

Ben was asleep and you were currently laying in bed beside him, staring at the ceiling. You knew it I would only be a matter of time before you and Ben would be on the move again. Maybe a different part of Canada, maybe a small area so the two of you could finally have that fresh start. Maybe the two of you could end up having a cabin like this of your own. After all, you still had some money left - before you and Ben left the country you went back to your bunker where you had a safe full of savings. You were glad you never touched it because well, it would now give you and Ben a start for wherever you both decided to permanently retire.

Suddenly, you could feel movement from beside you and when you looked down you saw Ben’s eyes shut tight. You could tell he was grinding his teeth and when you looked down, you noticed he was clutching down on the bedsheets tight, so tight that his knuckles looked white.

Another nightmare.

You moved to where you were laying on your side and you placed your hand on Ben’s chest as you tried to shake him awake.

“Ben? Ben wake up! Come back to me, Babe.” You urged and you shook him a little harder and his eyes finally shot open.

You let out a breath of relief before you lifted a hand and gently caressed his cheek, causing him to look at you and his gaze softened.

“I woke you up, didn’t I?” He said before he looked away from you but you shook your head and kissed his cheek.

“I’ve been up for a while. You didn’t wake me.” You promised sweetly as you wrapped your arms around his torso as best as you could as you laid down again.

“Want to talk about it?”

“It’s just the same stuff… Little less intense than before. Not by much.” He told you and you frowned softly, knowing he was dreaming about his time in Russia then his time with Mallory.

You snuggled closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder, only to feel him move and he kissed the crown of your head.

“Less intense is a good thing… right?” You asked softly and you felt him take a hold of one of your hands before he flipped it upward.

“It is. And they getting fewer and further between.” He reminded you and pressed his lips against your palm, causing you to smile a little.

“Well… why don’t we find something to do to get your mind off of it?” You asked and he shifted his head so he could look at you.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well I was thinking…” You trailed off, a little hesitant to bring it up because you weren’t sure how he was going to take the suggestion.

“Y/N, you know I’m not good at these guessing games. I’m not a mind reader.” He told you and you bit your lip a little. Then you moved your hands away to sit up while you formulated your thoughts.

“I was just thinking that… well, we’re close enough to the states without crossing the border again. Vought, Homelander, they all think we’re dead so they aren’t a threat and they haven’t been one for the past twelve months. Do you think it would be possible to finally… I don’t know… settle down maybe?”

Ben heard the delicate tone in your voice and he could tell that this must’ve been on your mind for a while. It was comforting to know that you were beginning to think the same thing that he was. The former hero slowly sat up with a little groan before he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his lap before he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“How long have you been thinking about it?” He asked gently.

“Not long honestly… right before we cane to Canada actually. Middle of the flight on that cargo plane.” He heard you confess and he smiled a little, wondering what got you started on thinking about it on a flight of all places.

“So… where is you’re thinking of settling down?”

“I dont know.. I like this cabin, maybe we can build one a little bit bigger though. Just incase.” He heard you say and Ben lifted a brow.

“Just incase of..?”

“Oh you never know. Maybe we can make some friends here in time and maybe we could have little gatherings and what not.” You said a little too quickly, making Ben a little skeptical. But he decided to shrug it off for now.

“You really think people are going to want to he friends with former American supes turned fugitives?” Ben asked and you smiled.

“No, but I’m sure they’ll want to be friends with Ben and Y/N who are just a couple that moved into the community.” He heard you say and he grinned a little before he looked down at your hand, admiring the band on your finger.

He recalled how happy the two of you were when you both had your simple wedding. Nothing too extravagant but you both ended up getting your rings a little later but it was perfect. You had the little ceremony in New Zealand, bought the rings in France, and had your honeymoon everywhere else. All of this was definitely a unique experience for him but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

“So we won’t be telling them about… well everything.” He said and you nodded.

“The point of a fresh start is to leave everything behind, remember? A clean slate, one where we aren’t heroes and we can just enjoy retirement.” You reminded and he nodded a little.

“Well… I suppose I like the idea of a cabin here. It’s peaceful and quiet.” He said as he thought about it.

“Why don’t we go into town today and see if we can find somebody to talk to about the cabin and everything?” He suggested and he watched as your eyes lit up with the idea.

“Okay! I’ll go get ready.”

Ben felt you start to move away from his touch and he smiled at how happy you seemed to be. Although for the past week or so you had seemed happier than usual. He couldn’t help but wonder why but he was assuming that it was simply because you were thinking of staying here in Canada. It must’ve been something simple.

As he watched you scramble around the room to get dressed, you turned around and looked at him and you smiled beautifully at him.

“Are you gonna get dressed or am I gonna have to drag you out of bed?” You asked him, causing Ben to chuckle to himself before he finally sat up and tossed his legs over the side of the bed before he started to stand up.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. You’re much too energetic for me this morning.”

“I told you, I was already awake before you woke up.” You reminded him before you finished getting dressed.

“Yeah I guess that’s true.” Ben agreed before you spoke again.

“By the way, we should go to the grocery store while we’re going to town. I need to pick up a couple of things.”

You and Ben had been in town for the past couple of hours and you’ve already looked into a couple of people to discuss buying property. Price checking never hurt anyone after all.

But when you and Ben both found a price you could work with the both of you made the arrangements. They gave you an estimate of when the cabin would be done so you and Ben would have some sort of time frame. You just had to hope the owners of the cabin you and Ben had been crashing in wouldn’t be making an appearance anytime soon while your new home was being built. So you two were on the way to the store.

While you were at the store, you and Ben grabbed some groceries. Naturally Ben grabbed a liquor of his choosing, not much to your surprise.but as the two of you roamed around the store you noticed a couple with the woman carrying a stroller. You happened to glance and you saw the most beautiful little girl sleeping with a stuffed blue dog from some cartoon. It warmed your heart and filled you with serotonin, but you tore your gaze away and started to think.

“Do you think you and Homelander would have had a good bond if you were there to raise him?” You asked as you started to step towards the baby clothes.

Ben glanced toward you and realized you were looking at some of those onesies, the tiniest clothes he had ever seen really but he wondered why you were bringing all of this up. Then he started to grow suspicious and wondered if he should wait about asking about his suspicions.

“I’d hope so. I didn’t have any kind of bond with my old man, so I’d hope that I’d do something different and be better for Homelander. But obviously Vought had other plans.” He said.

“What about Ryan?” You asked and you gazed up at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Well if you had the chance, if you chose not to listen to Butcher… would you have stayed with Vought and helped raise Ryan?” You questioned.

“I really don’t know. I don’t think that option would have been open anyway even if I wanted it to be. Vought got rid of me once because they didn’t want me to know about Homelander. I doubt they would have let me stay just because I’m the runt’s grandfather.” Ben said and put his hands in the pockets of the jeans he wore.

“I think it would have gone well. If you had the chance anyway. I’m sure that you could have raised Homelander well and had that father-son sort of bond.” You insisted but you could tell Ben wasn’t really convinced.

“Look at the way things turned out with my team. No wonder they left me to rot with the Ivans without a second thought. If that’s how I am as a leader of a team then what the hell kind of a father would I be?”

Your heart sank at his words and you reached out before you took one of his hands. Ben intertwined your fingers out of habit and you spoke again while giving his hand a soft squeeze, “You’d be the kind of father that learned from the mistakes of his past. The kind of father that would be able to help your child get past similar issues if the time ever came up.”

He didn’t exactly respond but he looked at some of the clothes you were looking at. Then you placed a hand on his arm.

“Ben, the fact that you’re think about all of this now and the fact that you don’t want to end up like your father only proves that you’re stepping in the right direction.” You encouraged. He nodded hut you could tell that he wasn’t fully convinced. There were times when Ben was sort of a hard man to persuade. You figured this would be one of those things that just needed some time for him to adjust to.

“On a different note… what do you think we should have for dinner tonight?” You changed the topic, to which Ben let out a hum.

“Well… what about burgers or something? That seems like it would be pretty simple.” Ben suggested, though you couldn’t help but feel nauseated by the amount of grease that came with eating a burger. Ben must’ve taken notice.

“Why the cringe? I thought you liked burgers.” He said.

“I do, normally. Lately I think the grease from certain things has been messing with me.” You admitted, causing Ben to tilt his head a little. You noticed the concerned expression on his face.

“Is it something you need to go to a doctor for? Maybe we should find one while we’re in town.” You shook your head.

“No, I don’t think it’s bad enough to need a doctor. I think it’s one of those things that will be resolving itself soon.”

“How can you be so sure about that? What if it’s something serious?”

“Ben? Trust me, I’ll be okay. It takes a lot more than a little sickness from grease to kill me.” You promised.

Ben grunted with skepticism and reluctance but he wouldn’t fight you on this. Not unless it would get worse and he needed to drag you to a doctor himself. But he couldn’t help but wonder when things changed. He cleared his throat as he tried to think of some other suggestion.

“Well there’s always spaghetti, something easy. Maybe we could grill some chicken or something.” Ben said.

“That could work. Why don’t you pick up the ingredients for that? I have something I have to look into.” You told Ben before you leaned up and kissed his cheek. Before Ben could say anything, you were already gone.

Ben watched you leave, checking you out before he shifted his attention and went to get the groceries.

He thought about the pieces of the conversation where you started asking him about Homelander. He wasn’t sure how he should feel about his son anymore, even in your little hypothetical world where Vought as out of the equation. Would he be well equipped? He knew you were trying to be encouraging about his parental abilities, but he still felt like he wouldn’t be a good father, even if he wanted to be.

However, what Ben was wondering the most was what brought that conversation on in the first place? Sure he supposed neither of you had talked about Homelander within the past year so he supposed you had the right to be curious about it. But he wondered why you wondered about it now. Maybe he’d ask you about it on the way home.

Or rather the place you would be calling home until your cabin was built.

He couldn’t wait until the both of you had a cabin though. He was ready to finally have a permanent little spot to call home. Ready to have a special place where you both could reside for the rest of your days, a fortress of solitude, a place where you could finally be alone and unbothered by anyone. It most of everything he wanted.

You found yourself at the vitamin section and you picked up what you needed. You definitely had some news to share with Ben, but you weren’t exactly sure how to tell him. You knew that Ben was growing suspicious of you though, and you were glad he didn’t exactly question you further about the problems you had with grease. It wasn’t your fault the smell of it made you queasy now that you were pregnant!

After you grabbed the prenatal vitamins, you walked over to the register and bought them yourself separately and double bagged the bottles before you started looking for Ben again somewhere in the grocery section.

You wished he believed in himself a little more. Sure he had some issues with his leadership, but you hoped that once he would find out about his kid he would start becoming a little more confident in his abilities.

You found Ben looking at different pasta sauces as if he couldn’t decide on which one he wanted to pick. You smiled to yourself before walking over and you slipped your hand into his. He looked down at you and your heart still seemed to flutter at the sight of his smile but then he looked at the shelves once more.

“Can’t decide if we should get normal spaghetti sauce or if we should get Alfredo.” He admitted.

“Well, why don’t we get both? Whatever we decide to use tonight we can use the other one sometime during the week.” You suggested.

“I think that’ll be fine.” Ben agreed and he grabbed both and put them in the basket but then he noticed the bag in your hand.

“You went and bought something already?” He asked.

“I did. But it’s just some personal stuff that I didn’t want you to wait on me for.” You said, hoping he’d buy the excuse. Luckily for you, he didn’t pry.

“If you say so.” He seemed a little short and you could tell he wasn’t sure if he should necessarily trust your behavior. You didn’t blame him for the skepticism but you still wanted to figure out the right way to tell him the news, you wanted to make sure he would take things well which was why you brought up Homelander.

By the time you both got back to the cabin, you decided you’d go and take a shower before you’d get a head start on dinner for you and your husband. Ben stayed in the kitchen to put the other groceries away.

As Ben was putting groceries away, however, he noticed one of the bags were double-bagged. Growing curious, Ben decided to peek inside and when he did he found something he hadn’t expected to find.

“What the hell?” He muttered to himself as he picked up a bottle of vitamins and when the label, he was shocked.

“Prenatal vitamins?” He read the label out loud and he looked at what else was in the bag you bought.

Inside the bag, he found a some pens and some stickers that looked like they belonged in some sort of scrap book. There was a book that was sort of a week by week guide of what to expect when you had a baby on the way. Ben heard the bathroom door upstairs and he knew you were coming. He ran a hand through his hair before he put everything down on the table.

Ben turned around when the footsteps stopped and he found you there, clutching the towel you must’ve been drying your hair with and you were dressed in one of his shirts and some leggings. The look on your face was nearly unreadable. From it looked like, Ben thought it was some sort of fear, but what did you have to be afraid of?

“So… I guess I forgot to bring the bag upstairs with me.” You finally said and he watched you walk over, draping the towel over one of the chairs as you started picking up the items Ben put on the table.

“How long have you known and decided not to tell me?” Ben asked.

“Ben, I didn’t decide not to tell you. I’m not shitty enough of a person to do that to you.” You began, feeling kind of offended that he would phrase it like that.

“I know this is something you’ve always wanted and we’ve talked about it before. I wanted to figure out just how to tell you, wanted it to be, you know, at least special. But I wanted to know if you still even wanted kids after you found out about Homelander and Ryan.” You explained.

“Which was why you were asking about it at the store…” Ben finally realized.

“Yeah… that about sums it up.” You sighed and you sat down in one of the chairs in the dining room and you looked back up at him, “Are you upset with me?”

“Upset?” Ben questioned, unsure why you’d ask a silly question.

“No, Sweetheart. I’m not.” He finally answered and he reached out and moved the chair you were sitting in before he knelt down in front of you, “I’m honestly thrilled. I’m still not quite sure about how my parenting skills will be but I think I’ll have some time to figure it out.”

You smiled when Ben took one of your hands and gave it a comforting squeeze, “I’m kind of disappointed that you didn’t get to tell me in the way you wanted to.”

You laughed a little, “Well, it’s not like you can forget about it now for me to find a way to tell you. So I guess this kind of saves me some brain work.”

Then it was Ben’s turn to let out a little chuckle. Afterwards he stood up and you snickered when you heard the way his knees popped. You looked at him and he pulled you up by the hand before he wrapped your arms around you in a sweet embrace. You smiled as you let your head rest on his chest. You heard the way his heart seemed to beat faster than normal, making you wonder if it was excitement, nerves, or some other emotion he was feeling.

“You still haven’t told me how long you’ve known.” He commented before he planted a kiss on the top of your head, you hummed softly.

“I don’t know… maybe a week and a half now?” You said in more of a questioning tone since you couldn’t remember exactly.

“You mean before we hitched a ride on the cargo plane?!” Ben said and he pulled away from you, looking at you as if you’d gone mad, “Are you crazy? We could have stayed in the last country we were in before we came here. Isn’t that dangerous for you to be flying in the condition you’re in?”

Somehow you knew Ben would get protective the moment he found out you were expecting. Although you couldn’t complain about it too much. It was sweet in its own way.

“It would have been dangerous if I were further along. I know I’m less than a month in, at lest I think so. So it couldn’t have been that bad.” You tried to reassure and you watched Ben’s jaw tighten, displeased with the response.

“We need to find a doctor and they’ll tell us how far along you are. It’s a good thing you suggested we settle here this morning.” He said and you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Well I wasn’t exactly going to suggest we go somewhere else anytime soon.” You admitted with a slight chuckle trying to lighten the mood. Ben exhaled a little before he leaned down and tried to kiss you on the forehead, but you pulled away.

“Nope. I want one on the mouth.” You pointed your finger to your lips.

When Ben leaned down to grant your little request, you ducked down and got out of his grasp. Ben gave you a look of confusion and you had a mischievous look on your face. “Gonna have to catch me first, Soldier Boy.”

Ben watched you turn on your heel and you scurried out of the front door into the cabin. He wasn’t sure where the sudden playfulness came from but he thought it was cute that you thought you could slip away and get away with it. He gave you a few seconds of a head start before he ran after you.

He continued to run until he caught sight of you running through the trees. He smiled to himself and he picked up the pace a bit and he watched as you stopped at a creek. You looked to either side as if you were trying to figure out which way to turn but by the time you stepped foot in one direction, Ben turned you around to face him and he had a smirk on his face.

“Caught you.” He smirked and you giggled before you cupped his cheek just as he leaned down and captured your lips with his.

You smiled against his mouth and you felt one of his hands roam down just to settle at the small of your back as he pulled you closer, as if he didn’t want you to run off again. When you pulled away, his forehead was on top of yours and your thumb caressed the top of his cheek.

“Why don’t we stay here for a while? It’s a pretty day and we’ve never sat here at the creek since we’ve been here.” You suggested softly and Ben smiled and rolled his eyes.

“You’re something else, aren’t you?” He said.

“What?”

“Nothing, Sweetheart. Just quit running off like that. Especially right now. Or there may be consequences.” He said, making one of your brows arch upward.

“What kind of consequences?” You smirked.

“The kind of consequences where I make sure you won’t be able to run anywhere.” Ben said with a smirk, causing your cheeks to turn a deep shade of red. Ben chuckled deeply at your embarrassment but then he held your hand and he walked with you a little closer to the creek.

You were right. It was a beautiful day and Ben sort of wished the two of you had come out here sooner. He sat down in one spot of grass before he pulled you down into his lap. You sat between his legs and Ben had his arms wrapped around your smaller figure. One of his hands were on your lower abdominal area while his chin rested on your shoulder.

His mind started swirling again as he kept you in his arms. He couldn’t believe this was real. What if he wasn’t good enough to be a father? What if all of his worries he talked with you about earlier would come true? He knew he would never lay a hand on his kid like he did his teammates, you would definitely find a way to kill him if he ever did that. But Ben knew his father never his him but he was still an abusive fuck. He didn’t want to turn into a monster like that.

He’d never forgive himself if he did.

You could feel the way Ben was starting to tense up and you placed your hand on the one he had over your stomach. You knew he was worried about what would happen, you knew he had so many doubts in his mind, but you hoped that the further along you would get, the more confident he would be in himself.

“For the record, Ben…”

“Hmm?”

“You won’t turn into your father…”

Ben lifted his chin off your shoulder before he turned and looked at you. You turned your upper body to face him and you saw the look on his face, knowing he had so much self doubt in his mind.

“You’re going to be an amazing father without any of his influence. Our baby won’t end up anything like Homelander because they’ll have two parents who love them dearly. They won’t ever need for anything, and they’ll love you and admire you for everything you are just as I admire you for everything you are.”

Ben’s gaze softened, as did his demeanor, and he lifted a hand to caress your face, “And they’ll love you and admire you for the amazing woman you’ve always been. They’ll be lucky to have you as a mother.”

You hummed softly before you leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips once more.

When you pulled away, you leaned against his chest before you looked outward into the sky, admiring the sunset and the way it seemed to bounce off the water from the creek. You and Ben had a new journey ahead of you and while you and Ben may be from an older era, you knew this journey came just at the right time.

Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @nancymcl @jackles010378 @hobby27 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @prettyinplaid94 @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @capricxnt @k-slla @david-tennant-obsessed-blog @deangirl96 @mimaria420 @ashdoctor @muhahaha303 @angelbabyyy99

[7association-was-here]

Faust shall keep this simple, though of course the “grand finale” of this case could not be referred to as such in consideration of length and complexity (it is very, very long). But the following is the report and conclusion of the business at District 12, L corp.. summarised in a slightly more unique manner than previous reports.

-

The scent of the deceased reeked forth, sharply throughout our whole surroundings. Faust has very rarely visited this fallen wing but it was exactly as described countless times before; A near wasteland.

We considered searching for the individual whom identified themselves with the symbol, or perhaps title is more fitting, “SnakeHead”. But with the life of Heathcliff on the line and in the hands of an unknown threat Faust calculated that it is improbable to spare the time in searching for a guide in these unpredictable circumstances and territory. Not to mention that they have done enough help for us already. It would only be a burden.

Therefore we pushed onwards towards the center of the District instead where that infamous facility once stood. The head of Lobotomy Corporation and the Library Phenomenon. There was not much left of it except for mostly the underground entrance, for the upper half was supposedly transported by The Head into the outskirts.

Leaving behind multiple back-ups to watch and secure the surface, we descended, to the depths of the fallen wing.

As reported previously we encountered many of the “Abnormalities” and “Peccatula”, most of which were not a hassle to deal with. They are unpredictable yes, but manageable. (We shall need to observe them more sometime later..)

Pushing that aside as we traversed those ruins, the crackling of faulty wires, the dripping of blood, the flickering lights and the damp musty air were all that accompanied us passively. All else were hostile. We were thankful not to run into higher classed abnormalities though that much was sure. And Faust thought that the presence of some form of remaining energy being utilised is quite strange. It might have been flickering unevenly but the lights were very bright, unlike ones commonly found in abandoned buildings.

Of course that might have been from the remaining Enkephalin source somewhere within but the lights themselves seemed suspiciously brand new. I might be wrong, but it felt like a sign of recent inhabitants.

-

Proceeding forwards, and deeper into the facility, that was when the situation began to shift. As we descended to a new floor we noticed the surrounding seemed much cleaner than the previous upper floors. Much more sanitised and well-kept. In fact a few pieces of new furniture (most used for storing items, such as shelves and drawers) had been installed. All lined with research documents as well as what seemed to be various liquids in small containers. Faust doubts they were normal medication.

And not much to our surprise, moments later we spotted individuals ahead discussing a topic very heavily. I directed everyone to stay low, wait for them to pass, and in the meanwhile do their best to catch what it is those people were discussing. People in mostly lab coats..

”Yes, the substance reverts things to their original state…”

“So if we tamper it together with those alternate realities do you think..”

It was difficult to decipher what they spoke of. But those two sentences were what Faust remembers very clearly. And as they passed a revelation came to me as well, Faust recognises those lab coats. Or some of them at the very least, had the K corp emblem embedded at the side of their sleeves. What does this imply? That K corp is aware of the ordeal? Or were these simply stray traitors of the wing? Whatever this was Faust knew it was a sign that another of our cases was about to be answered. The missing former K corp employee.

I shall spare the details of how long we searched these floors but eventually we found him. The individual known as “Dongrang”, or so we believe. As his corpse had been altered very severely beyond recognition, and sealed within some form of glass incubator. A unique coffin inside one of the emptied chambers. This was certainly something K corp was not going to be pleased with as we couldn’t possibly retrieve the body from inside that device. Instead we could only take a photograph of it which shall be deemed classified and cannot be shared here.

-

With one of three cases dealt with I focused next on finding Heathcliff. The most important of them all.

Going deeper once more revealed that only the middle floors have been fully inhabited by this unknown faction. The final lower areas seemed more desolate… Not even abnormalities were spotted in these depths. Perhaps someone had cleared them out previously, as some traces did remain.

It was wholly uneventful for the most part, until we ran into an encounter. A familiar face, one which I immediately rushed upon, but was greeted with a strange disappointment right after.

Slumped on the wall lay a terribly injured individual. Heathcliff, but not my Heathcliff. It was one of the “mirror” versions of him, one we’ve indirectly met before in fact. The one from Shi Association. It is with regret to say that he was in a nearly irreparable state when we found him. A miracle he hadn’t immediately died, Faust will say.

And in thanks to that he was able to use those final precious moments to relay some information about our Heathcliff’s whereabouts along with information of another individual possibly with him. He claims that he was led here by a prescript (similar to how our Heathcliff was), and boldly followed along. As is later found out the prescript was a fraud and simply a trap for someone he described as “The Erlking Bastard” to ambush them. He recalls there being exactly 3 victims, aligning perfectly with the amount of Heathcliffs that we are aware of.

Though sadly… The Shi association fixer could not make it and later parted way right there with our eyewitness. A very mixed feeling it was. To watch someone I both know dearly and did not know at all the same time, perish just like that. A dear stranger.

We will contact Shi Association of their loss…

-

A trail of red string led us forth in this final floor, into a narrow hallway and into several more corridors, eventually from the distance we heard the clashing of two blades and of screams or shouts. A fight was in motion somewhere and Faust had to locate it immediately.

Now running through as best as we could in fear of being “too late” we pursued the red ribbon hastily and at last landing us in front of the entrance to one of the abnormality containment chambers. The door itself was fastened tightly, but peaking from behind the glass was still manageable and behind it lay a very strange and equally concerning sight.

Heathcliff, our Heathcliff, battered and bleeding though still holding on as he faced against yet another familiarly unfamiliar man.

A man seemingly at the end of his wits, his face worn and consumed with nothing but hatred and a single goal in mind. He seemed to be saying something, a speech perhaps to our Heathcliff. But with the noise canceled out not a proper word was made out. Afterwards he raised his weapon as though for a final strike, but I could not allow for that to pass. Pushing with all our might to get the door to open, just somehow, in some desperate miracle of hope, I could not simply stand to watch another—

“V.R.O.O.M way.” “Very Ridiculous, Out Of My”

And that “miracle” we desperately needed had revealed itself in the form of Ryoshu and her golf cart, ramming right into the containment chamber.

..Faust knows many things, but she does not know one thing right now. And that one thing is how can she describe the events which followed after the golf cart in a professional and sane way. To say the least Ryoshu’s ambushing was enough to pierce through the chamber and practically hit our foe point blank. Unfortunately as soon as we all began surrounding him, he vanished somewhere somehow amidst everything. Ryoshu quotes “Coward.”

It is anticlimactic yes, but I am certain things will properly come to an end eventually regarding his case in the future, all things in consideration. In other words that won’t be the last we see of him.

I instead turned to Heathcliff with many things to say, but we eventually left just as we had entered.

Faust would have said “carefully as to not be spotted” but we exited with the golf cart. No elaboration is needed on that.

-

And at last, after long sufferings that case comes to… A rather strange and unfulfilling close. Many strings did not tie together as Faust expected, such as the deal with K corp and the identity of this unknown faction remaining as it is. But for now,

I am glad that Heathcliff is finally safe. We lost one unfortunately, but he died a fairly noble death just as I would have wished for my own Heathcliff. He shall be remembered. And as for the other, the Öufi fixer has been returned safely to his own section. It will be awkward to explain what happened to their fixers, but nonetheless.

Ah. And I’ve received some additional information from Heathcliff… The fraudulent prescripts were indeed sent by “The Erlking”, in fact the murder of the workshop owner was also a part of the trap. And he explains too that this “Erlking” is another mirror occurrence of himself it seems.

The reason why he acted the way he did in attempting murder against the other Heathcliffs though… Our Heathcliff seems hesitant to explain. Whatever the reason may be I will not force it out of him right now if he does not wish to. Instead Faust will focus more on how “The Erlking” has anything to do with the unknown faction as well as K corp. What were their goals? What were they doing with the corpse of the K corp employee? And was the workshop murder truly a simple red herring, considering the strange mirror room within the warehouse? There were more questions produced than answered from this occurrence.

It is a very complicated matter indeed… Although now, I suppose that is all I can report. Faust shall take her mind off of this for a while and…

See if Heathcliff would like a cup of tea?

[pumpkincurryelote]

Furthering the world-building thought experiment of Midwives as an independent organization or governing body in a stateless/moneyless world: Imagine their purview extending not just to birth, but to abortion, women's health, women's history, and women's liberation by force where necessary up to and including the execution of rapists. Exclusively female membership, living in facilities akin to non-religious convents. In fact the most powerful of any large organization. How their services/protection might be engaged would vary depending on region. If this be a post-patriarchy world, they would be the first line of defense against the resurgence of said disease.

Farmers would be second most powerful. As permaculturists in a world where everything is locally sourced, and they would be responsible for protecting biodiversity of both flora and fauna in their biomes. There is no mass production of anything in this model. Wild animals are respected members of the community alongside domesticated ones. They monitor and survey the land, on guard for outbreaks and potential disasters, tending the food forests and keeping the biome healthy. They deliver non-human medical care to every creature in the land. Their voices are heard first on the floor of any development project and they can set hard boundaries or veto projects outright. While not explicitly stated to be female only, females would nonetheless outperform males in this field. Even in hunting.

Next up is Libraries. Librarians collect, organize, and administer all manner of public resource, not just books. Knowledge, tools, furniture, clothes, technology, seeds, genetic material, whatever is needful. They keep mundane records of everyone in their community, and community members can deposit personal logs for safekeeping here. Indeed anything the community deems of utmost value may be stored here. Every library is built to withstand assault, and to protect its contents-- a last resort lockdown would fully seal the library from the outside world for 100 years, killing anyone inside. The identities of chief librarians with access to sensitive collections (and the ability to lock their library down) are shrouded in secrecy. Field librarians go out on expeditions to collect data, specimens, etc where permitted by a region's Farmers (and always with a Farmer in attendance).

Hospitals are fourth, and we all know what they're supposed to do. Universities are arguably fifth, and bosom buddies with Libraries. Universities would be the only "large cities" you ever see, and are major transportation hubs. Any large scale project happens here-- rocket to the moon large. Trains occupy this status bracket as well, being the main arteries of civilization/transportation. Ocean cargo could be an extension or a symbiotic relationship.

Of equal influence are Mail and Sanitation. The postal service delivers through whatever means necessary. Any interference with another person's mail results in brutal application of force. No matter how isolated or alone you think you are, the post service will find you. If anybody at all sends you a message, you WILL receive it. They're the best trackers in the world. Many have working dogs as companions. Some have birds. All of them tend to be loners unless someone has done them dirty or behaves dishonorably.

Sanitation encompasses recycling/repurposing of non-compostable goods, composting itself (composting toilets are the norm), janitorial work, pandemic/outbreak containment, and burials (where applicable). If there's a landfill or old oil spill that needs remediation, they're there. Many have skill in repairs/fabrication, and choose this life to have first pick of scavenged parts. Many are also skilled at soapmaking, extractions (Greek oregano, eucalyptus, wintergreen, etc.), and distillation (vinegar).

[kajaono]

I had the most shit day ever:

Ordered a sofa for a few hundred euro, never got a confirmation, money got booked anyway. No one of costumer service answered

Got my box, for my tea shelf, its smaller then stated on the website so I have to send it back. Any even pay for the shipping

Hit my head so hard I got a bloody bump

Missed my train because the local train broke while I was already in it.

Had a horrible coffee

Ordered furniture to my new home, in another city, and then found out the trains will be on strike so I have no chance to pick them up personally so I had to book another transportation last minute.

And found out my fav restaurant will close

And because I will get my period tomorrow I hissed at everyone and am close to tears

Please tell me something funny or good that happened to you today, please!

[thegreenleavesofspring]

.

I kicked my husband out in the beginning of December '21 when he finally went from just taking a swing at me to taking a swing at the four-year-old for the crime of asking for help. Earned myself a broken nose and broken glass that day but he was finally out. Moved back in with his messed-up family.

For the year after that until December 31st 2022, he came over on the weekends to take us to the store (the car was entirely in his name and he took it with him. He also never permitted me to get a driver's license, so) and to see the boys. I told him all year that he could move back in if/when he got counseling and shaped up. He always had an excuse why he couldn't.

On December 31st he was physically abusive to me and the boys in the self-checkout corral of Walmart. Police were called. CPS got involved. As of January he is not permitted to have any contact with me and the boys at all.

This has been a massive improvement in our day to day lives (his abuse wasn't limited to only the physical.) My children are more stable, happier, and learning more effectively.

But it also left us without transportation and also he took it as permission to entirely cut us off financially. No phone, no internet, no renters insurance, no rent, nothing. All in one day. And I went from not being permitted to have a job to being solely financially responsible for the boys - I have been trying and trying to get child support but none of my filings have come to aught.

And too my severely disabled mother has needed me to take care of her as best I can a city away without transportation every single day, which is its own kind of wearing...

A very dear out-of-state friend purchased us a Walmart membership so I could order food and diapers. Another very dear out-of-state friend proposed an arrangement where I work online for her and her husband.

All of which is just background and lead-up. I have been struggling with depression and overwhelm and sometimes suicidal tendencies for eight months now. Like I have been slowly sinking into a black mire and all my thrashing is just barely keeping my head above. And I have no one else to whom I can reach out for help. Every time I try it's... it only makes it so so much worse.

But the depression and overwhelm are morphing. Into misandry (men are useless, men are incapable of love, no man will ever protect a woman, men are faithless and cruel and selfish and violent and and and - SHUT UP SHUT UP IT'S LIES I KNOW IT'S LIES THEY'RE NOT ALL MY HUSBAND SHUT UP--) into distrust and disbelief of God (servant and slave of Jesus Christ but not a beloved daughter, He does not want you happy, He is displeased with you, the best you can hope for is to sneak around unnoticed in a corner while everyone else receives their crowns) and that one... I can't shake it. I read the Bible and I sneer. Those promises are for other people. Not me. I can't even justify that mindset (because it's unjustifiable) but I believe it with my whole heart anyway and I can't... help it. I can't help it.

...anyway that was depressing, sorry.

Anyway I was flopping around angsting last night, the usual sulking Nobody loves me, I'm so tired, I'm so bored, I'm so tired of being trapped inside, I am the worst mother ever and my children will hate me and follow the family tradition of moving out the minute they can, I am sick of living in a cluttered mess and not having real furniture, I am no Daughter of God but only a reject from the church, pushed out the house, no place for me at the Communion table blah blah blah. And I went and made a bunch of reckless impulse buys online.

Now, ordering from Walmart is a bit like playing Russian Roulette. Will you get someone picking out your food who is awake, cares about their job, and is competent? Or will you get someone who is half-asleep, just doesn't care, and/or is a flaming idiot? So normally I order the same few things that can survive sleepy careless idiots over and over.

But I went a little manic last night and ordered a whole bunch of produce (apples and a cantaloupe and spinach and Stuff) as well as a new pair of earbuds that are usually $20 but went down to $18 for back to school (I have a pair of the same kind I got years ago and they still work 90% of the time but that 10% is Annoying and also the volume controls and the replay/previous song functionalities don't work anymore.)

A little treat. ^_^

And it all came first thing this morning and... whoever picked my produce out was a literal angel. The apples are pristine and the spinach is bright green and not slimy and the potatoes are perfect and the cantaloupe is GORGEOUS and - it must've all just come off the truck? Because Walmart produce NEVER looks this good anyway?

And it was like a little whisper. Of course I care about you, even when you can't see it. Of course I can provide fresh produce for you if you'll have faith in Me. Do you think that getting good produce from Walmart is impossible for Me? I love you. I love you.

And I still can't quite believe it. Even with the evidence right in front of my eyes. I still can't make myself believe it. But I am trying oh I am trying...

Anyway I hope nobody actually read this pity-party riddled angst fest. XD

[beguines]

With the collapse of both the rural and urban economies, millions, including many children, took to riding the rails. In 1932, Southern Pacific, just one of many railroads, threw almost seven hundred thousand people off its trains. Shantytowns, aptly dubbed "Hoovervilles," emerged in major cities around the country, especially in those like Chicago that were transportation centers. Spontaneous struggles, including group raids on food stores, emerged. And into this environment stepped the Unemployed Councils (UC), led by the Communist Party (CP). In a matter of months, hundreds of militant mass organizations had been organized around the country. On March 6, 1930, Communists worldwide took part in unemployment demonstrations. In the United States, where more than a million demonstrated, it is estimated that fifty thousand protestors turned out in Boston, thirty thousand in Philadelphia, twenty-​five thousand in Cleveland, twenty thousand in Pittsburgh and Youngstown, and one hundred thousand each in New York City and Detroit. Active UCs existed around the country, including the South; Atlanta, Birmingham, Richmond, and Chattanooga were early centers. Yet isolated areas were not immune. Especially militant and well organized were groups in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. In the iron mining town of Crosby, Minnesota, the Communist leader of the UC won election as mayor, began hiring unemployed miners, and led a hunger march on the state capital. Yet as Lorence notes, although Michigan was among the most active places, with large, influential unemployed movements not only in Detroit and the Upper Peninsula, but in Flint, Saginaw and Bay City, and Pontiac, the more conservative western part of the state was less militant and confrontational.

Piven and Cloward call it the "largest movement of the unemployed the country has known". As a contemporary social scientist, Helen Seymour, argues, "Every large city, most small cities and towns, practically all states . . . witnessed the growth, with tremendous variation as to type, duration, method of accomplishment, of relief pressure groups". The Musteite Unemployed Leagues claimed a hundred thousand members in 187 branches in Ohio alone, and another forty to fifty thousand members in Pennsylvania in 1933, and they were dwarfed by the much larger Communist-​led Unemployed Councils in members and branches. Of course, some areas were passed over, and even when they did emerge, they did not approach high levels of militancy. Nevertheless, what is most striking is the ubiquity and range of unemployed struggles and active groups.

One of the richest accounts of early unemployed activity is given by Nathaniel Weyl. The UCs were organized by blocks and in tenements, and also in breadlines, flophouses, and relief centers, all with their particular demands and forms of action. One of the major activities of the neighborhood committees was to fight evictions: they amassed crowds, fought evictors, including police, moved furniture back when it had been removed, and re-​hooked up utilities. By 1932, in some cities evictions had all but ended. All over the country, unemployed groups organized marches on relief stations, city halls, and even state capitals, demanding greater relief. In Chicago, where the Socialist Party (SP) was especially strong, the UC initiated a joint demonstration of tens of thousands of unemployed, demanding no cut in relief and an end to evictions. Chicago and Illinois officials rushed to Washington, DC, to borrow 6.3 million dollars from the Reconstruction Finance Corporation in order to meet the demands. Mayor Anton Cermak responded to critics by highlighting the seriousness of the growing radicalization of the masses: "I say to the men who object to this public relief because it will add to the tax burden on their property, they should be glad to pay for it, for it is the best way of ensuring that they keep their property". The central national demand of the UCs was unemployment insurance at the expense of employers and the state, embodied in the Frazier-​Lundeen Bill and eventually supported by unions as well as all unemployed groups.

In addition, many of the unemployed groups were industrially oriented. United Mine Workers of America (UMWA) locals in West Virginia, Ohio, and Pennsylvania established active unemployed organizations of their laid-​off members. Communists organized unemployed stockyard workers for hunger marches. The CP-​led Auto Workers Union (AWU) led marches and picket lines at auto plants protesting layoffs, the most famous of which was the March 7, 1932, Ford Hunger March in Detroit and Dearborn, Michigan. As the subsequent chapters demonstrate, active, mass-​supported groups of unemployed in steel towns and wood centers were widespread and played important roles in union organizing.

Michael Goldfield, The Southern Key: Class, Race, and Radicalism in the 1930s and 1940s

[caffeineivore]

Medianoche

Liminal spaces, pt 2. M/N, PG13-ish

Everything they said about Texas was fucking true, and he'd been driving through the damn state for a day and a half with a shitty four-hour nap somewhere in the middle, and he was still within its borders.

Working for a moving company means that Noah sees a lot of time on the road, hauling anything from furniture and electronics to someone's fancy-ass fish tank complete with tiny underwater castle, Nemo, Dory and the whole gang. This trip includes curio cabinets full of highly-insured antique knick-knacks and fine china and some fancy artwork, all from some dearly-departed old lady's grand estate in Aspen, en route to her son's home in Freeport, and honestly, he would rather have hauled another damn fish tank. The responsibility of transporting old, fragile, irreplaceable rich-people shit sits differently than hauling someone's generic IKEA set cross-country.

Texas traffic is an absolute nightmare in the greater Houston area, and in the interests of saving time, Noah powers through what would have been dinnertime to continue on well into the outskirts, but by time the roads around him are finally in some semblance of "normal", it's full dark outside and his stomach is growling louder than the hard rock he's blasting on the radio. He's in the middle of freaking nowhere, of course, and for another fifteen miles, doesn't see so much as a freeway exit. Finally, though, a blue road sign with the fork and knife symbol for food pops up ahead, and he signals, turns right onto an exit ramp that leads down into a small side street.

There's a tiny tin can of a building ahead, where his truck takes up three spots in the stingy little parking lot, and in place of a name, there's simply a neon sign with a picture of what might optimistically be called a sandwich. But every single light inside is lit up, and the door pulls open easily. A faded handwritten sign tells Noah to sit anywhere he likes, and he makes his way to the deserted counter, rings the bell.

"Buenas noches," The woman who emerges from behind the swinging double-doors is tall and tanned and buxom, wearing a candy-pink blouse just a few shades lighter than her smile. She says something else in Spanish, and Noah only surmises that it's a question based on the quizzical look in her forest green eyes.

"Do you have a menu, darlin'? I'm hungrier than a bear out of hibernation."

That only earns him another quizzical look, but damned if she's not a sight for sore eyes. There's an endearing spray of freckles across her nose and when she tilts her head, the lights pick up the glossy chestnut tints of her hair, tied back in a practical ponytail. Noah mimes eating a sandwich, taking a sip of a drink.

"Tienes hambre," she says slowly, and he nods in agreement. Whatever that means.

"Sure. Surprise me. I trust you."

She hums something to herself, then pours him a cup of coffee in a sturdy white mug, slides it across the counter. It's hot and strong and he gulps it down black as he watches her disappear back through those double-doors.

It's perhaps a few minutes later when she reappears like a benevolent goddess, and sets down a generous-sized sandwich in front of him, its bread crisp and crossed with grill marks and still slick with melted butter. "La medianoche," she tells him, and waves a hand at the wall clock which reads the hour of midnight.

Noah is too busy inhaling possibly the best fucking thing he's ever tasted before in his whole natural life to look at the time. The bread is grilled crisp on the outside but is sweet and pillowy-soft around decadent slices of ham and roast pork, sharp mustard and melty cheese punctuated with the sweet-salty bite of sliced pickles. In his peripheral vision, she refills his coffee cup, then leaves the bill at his elbow. He pulls out a twenty-- roughly twice the bill-- and shouts a "Keep the change, sweetheart!" over his shoulder as the food and coffee give him a new lease on life. Maybe with luck, Grandma's creepy antique shit will make it to its new home before whatever undoubtedly haunted artifact decides to rise up and possess his soul from the trailer of the truck.

He makes it to his destination sometime the next day, and takes the night off to rest at a decently nice hotel, and his dreams sound like lightning storms and smell like roses and fresh bread. He sees her in his mind as he sleeps-- that gentle smile, that statuesque figure draped in emerald silk rather than pink calico. The next trip takes him west, and somewhat impulsively, he passes through that stretch of lonely Texan road again. It's not too much out the way, after all.

In broad daylight, though he's quite certain it's the same exact road, there's no blue road sign, and no neon sandwich atop a tin can diner shining like a beacon anywhere on that stretch. It's as though the place and the girl sprung to life, only at midnight.

Only when he needed them.

[todaysdocument]

Document asking that the Brigantine Minerva be seized, having carried  “ . . .  Slaves from one foreign Country or place, to wit from Africa which is a foreign Country, to another foreign Country or place, to wit to the Havannah, which is another foreign Country . . . .“ June 7, 1803

Record Group 21: Records of District Courts of the United States

Series: Case Files

File Unit: U.S. v. Minerva, Brigantine, 1803 Jul

Transcription: 

To the Honorable David Leonard Barnes

Judge of the District Court for Rhode Island

District.

       The United States of America give your

Honor to understand & be informed that within

two years last past the Brigantine called the

Minerva of the burthen of

were built, fitted, equipped loaded or otherwise

prepared within some port or place of the

United States, or caused to sail from some

port or place within the same United

States, by some citizen or citizens of the

United States, or foreigners, other persons

coming, .... or residing at that time within

the United States for the purpose of

carrying on a trade or traffick in Slaves

to some foreign Country-or for the purpose

of procuring from Africa, being a foreign

country, the inhabitants thereof to be

transported to a place called the Ha-

vannah, being another foreign Country

to be there, to wit at Havannah, Sold

or disposed of as Slaves-contrary to

a Statue of the United States, entitled

"an act, to prohibit the carrying on the

Slave trade from the United States

to any foreign place or Country", passed

at the first Session of the third Congress of

the United States begun & held at the

City of Philadelphia in the State of

Pennsylvania on Monday the Second

of December in the year 1793.

                                                             turn over

[page 2]

The said United States further give your

Hon to understand & be informed that

within two years last past,  to wit on the

fifth day of February A. D. 1803, this Bri-

gantine called the Minerva was em-

ployed , or made use of in the transpor-

tation or carrying of Slaves from one

foreign Country or place, to wit from

Africa which is a foreign Country, to

another foreign Country or place, to wit

to the Havannah, which is another

foreign Country--and that the said

Brigantine which employed or made

use of as upon way owned by & belonged

to a citizen or Citizens of the United States

or to some other persons or persons residing

at that time within the United States-

contrary to the Statue of the United States

entitled "An act in addition to the act

entitled our Act to prohibit the carrying

on the Slave trade from the United States

to any foreign place or Country" passed

at the first Session of the Sixth Congress of

the United Stated begun & held at the

City of Philadelphia in the State of

Pennsylvania on Monday the Second

of December 1799-

  And the United States further levy

that the Brigantine is now in the

Port of Brithal, or some other port or

place within the District of Rhode

Island & within your Honor's jurisdiction

                                                              as

[page 3]

as judge of Court-and that by reason

of the premises the s[']d [abbreviation for "said"] Brigantine called

the Minerva  & her Tackle, apparel &

furniture are forfeit & liable to be

leased & condemned as such [?] the one moiety

thereof to the use of the s[']d United States

& the other moiety thereof to the

use of Isaac Shearman [?] of Boston

in the County of Suffolk & Commonwealth

of Massachusetts,the Informer.

And the United States pray your

Honor to give orders for due process

to issue for the trial & condemnation of

s[']d Brigantine, her tackle, apparel & furniture

accordingly.

                                 by David Howell

                                     Attorney of the United States

                                     for Rhode Island District.

Providence June 7th

A. D. 1803--

[following below a "horizontal"-looking fold in Image:]

Rhode Island District ss June 8th 1803 -

The foregoing Libel is allowed & ordered to be

filed - It is further ordered that a warrant ^be^ issued [?]

directed to the Marshal of Rhode Island District

to take into his custody the said Brigantine

Minerva, her tackle apparel furniture

[page 4]

[left side of trifold]

and other appurtenance  [word struck through] and that a trial be had

on said Libel  [word struck through] [illegible word] a special District Court

to be holden at the Court House in Providence in said District

on Friday the fifth day of July next at ten o'Clock in the forenoon - and

that notice be given thereof in the Herald

of the United States printer at Warren in

said District three weeks successively

& by posting up notifications

for the space of

Fourteen days on the

outside of the Court

House in Providence.

David Leonard Barnes

District Judge

[center fold]

Information   70

       VS

Brigantine Minerva

       to

Honbl Judge Barnes

June 7th A.D. 1803

                   D. H.

[right column]

Filed June 5th 1803-

Special Court July 1 1803 Providence

Warrant issued 8th [struck-through: "July"] June 1803

[urbanyardstudios]

Coworking Space in Brooklyn: Urban Yard Studios

Welcome to Urban Yard Studios, where creativity meets productivity in the heart of Brooklyn! As a premier Creative coworking space brooklyn, we understand the unique needs of artists, freelancers, entrepreneurs, and small businesses. Nestled in one of New York's most vibrant boroughs, Urban Yard Studios offers an inspiring environment designed to fuel your imagination and foster collaboration.

A Space Designed for Creativity

Urban Yard Studios isn’t just another coworking space; it’s a community where creativity thrives. Our space is thoughtfully designed to provide a perfect blend of functionality and inspiration. From our open work areas to private studios, every corner of Urban Yard Studios is crafted to spark innovation and encourage productivity.

Our open work areas are filled with natural light and feature modern, ergonomic furniture, ensuring you work comfortably and efficiently. For those who need a bit more privacy, our private studios offer a quiet retreat to focus on your projects. Each studio is soundproofed and customizable to fit your unique needs, providing a perfect canvas for your creativity.

A Community of Creatives

At Urban Yard Studios, we believe that collaboration is key to creativity. Our community is composed of like-minded individuals from various creative fields, including graphic designers, writers, filmmakers, and more. This diverse mix of talents creates a dynamic environment where ideas can flow freely, and collaboration happens naturally.

We regularly host networking events, workshops, and seminars to help you connect with other members and learn from industry experts. Whether you’re looking to find a collaborator for your next project or seeking advice from a seasoned professional, Urban Yard Studios is the place to be.

State-of-the-Art Amenities

Urban Yard Studios is equipped with everything you need to bring your creative visions to life. Our facilities include high-speed internet, state-of-the-art printing and scanning equipment, and fully equipped meeting rooms. We also offer a variety of tools and resources for digital and traditional artists, ensuring you have everything you need to succeed.

Our on-site café provides a comfortable space to take a break, enjoy a cup of coffee, and connect with other members. With a range of healthy snacks and beverages, you can stay energized and focused throughout the day.

Convenient Location

Located in the bustling neighborhood of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, Urban Yard Studios is easily accessible by public transportation. Our prime location offers a plethora of nearby dining, shopping, and entertainment options, making it a convenient and exciting place to work.

Join Us at Urban Yard Studios

If you’re searching for a creative coworking space in Brooklyn, look no further than Urban Yard Studios. Join our vibrant community and discover a workspace designed to inspire, collaborate, and create. Visit our website to schedule a tour and see firsthand what makes Urban Yard Studios the perfect place for your creative endeavors.

[sunburnacoustic]

An interview with Matt Bellamy in the Guardian, 17 August 2001. By Will Hodgekinson.

Matt Bellamy is the slight, angular, 23-year-old lead singer of the rock band Muse. He's sharing a flat in north London with a friend from his hometown of Teignmouth and the band's drummer, Dom. The flat has the air of a temporary home with only the bare necessities present and standard regulation furniture fills up the space between a piano in one corner and a computer in the other. For a flat occupied by three rock'n'roll-involved young men, it's surprisingly clean.

"We've been here a couple of months," says Bellamy, who talks in a rapid monotone. "I lived in Exeter for six months and I'll probably be here for six months before hopefully moving to the States. I'm living my life in six-month chunks at the moment."

Laying down roots is not on the current agenda. "If I'm in the same place for too long, I can't write anything. When things are changing, that's when the writing kicks in, whether that change be moving house, or losing a girlfriend, or making a new bunch of friends. Because that's when I get the urge of wanting to be in touch with the one thing that is constant, which is the feeling I get from making music. That's why the last album was called Origin of Symmetry - it's important to have that base when everything is in flux."

Being a child of the 21st century, Bellamy has dispensed with the notion of a record collection for something far more transportable - music stored on computer. "Since Napster went, the program you need is Morpheus, which can not only download music, but films and other computer programs as well. Perhaps I shouldn't be saying this, but I've got AI and all these films that haven't come out yet downloaded on to my computer. And with songs, you download the ones you want from somebody else's machine and form your own playlist."

When he's away from the computer, Bellamy uses a wristwatch-sized MP3 player to listen to music. "You plug a lead into the computer and put on the songs you want, so you can walk around with this and the quality is brilliant. It costs about £250. I'm on planes a lot and they always tell me to turn off my Walkman during take-off, but this is so small that they can't even see I've got it on. When you put these headphones on, it's absolute cut-off from the outside world. You can't hear kids crying or anything."

On the little MP3 player is a catholic range of music. Along with tracks by Rage Against the Machine, Weezer, American lo-fi favourites Grandaddy and funk-rockers Primus are blues tracks by Robert Johnson and European classical excerpts. "When I was about 10 my dad played me Robert Johnson, and that was the first time I heard music that made me feel something, even though what I'm playing on piano these days isn't blues but music from European history, be it folk, classical, or flamenco. I'm into Jeff Buckley's voice a lot too, as he was one of the first male singers who made me comfortable about singing in a female range."

Another favourite is the Belgian rock band Deus. "One of the best rock bands from Europe. They're too experimental for radio here so they've never made it, but they're huge in Belgium. They jump across all kinds of styles and will play anything from blues to disco in the same track. They've been around for about 10 years, and they did a tour supporting PJ Harvey in England, but apart from that, they've never had much exposure."

All of this feeds into Muse's own sound - emotional, heartfelt rock popular with troubled young men. "Chris, the bass player, is into his metal, and for some reason he's also obsessed by the Beach Boys, and he's got all those outtakes of Beach Boys tracks that you can get. Dom's into percussive things like Buddy Miles and the Aphex Twin. We all like Rage Against the Machine, while I listen to a lot of classical music and the other two don't really go there. We meet in the middle of all our tastes with what we do in the band."

From playing us noisy American rock on his computer, Bellamy goes to knocking out some astonishingly accomplished classical piano. "I play the piano for ages because I enjoy the experience of doing it. It's always been something of an escape, if you like," he says. "Then something will come from that and there will be the start of a new song, even if at that point it's just expressing a state of mind, a feeling of loneliness or whatever. I wrote a lot of the last album on tour, so I would often find a piano backstage at a venue, and just play it all day."

Occasionally, there's time for that most traditional of listening pleasures, the record. "Our producer, John Leckie, has opened me up to people like Tom Waits and Captain Beefheart, and even Jimi Hendrix who I don't think I would have listened to otherwise. After a day's session he would pull out a few records and play them in the dark. It was cool."

[paintedscales]

WoLstinien Week 2024 :: Day 5 :: Time Apart

Thankfully, when it comes to Nomin and Estinien, time apart never really is as bad as it could be. Not when there are methods and ways to get letters or other things that help to let each other know that they are both thriving in their own, respective ways.

Word Count: 1,596

Lonely days and nights were not uncommon on the island sanctuary. Nomin often busied herself with getting more furniture built that could improve the cabin, or tending the gardens and creatures that she curated for herself since she had been left to her own devices. The experience was all quite relaxing as opposed to venturing elsewhere to combat any threats.

Quiet relaxation…

Nomin breathed out a sigh of relief as she buried the last seed in her personal garden. The soil beds were all filled with seeds not of the island itself. Each little plot was instead seeded with those that were gifted to her from Estinien. He had often brought back seeds  that he found in the markets for Nomin to take care of.

Getting up, Nomin traveled to a different side of her garden, looking down at the soil bed that had been seeded at least a couple moons ago at this point. A row of trellis had been erected alongside the seeds, and vines were now snaking their way up along them. Seeing how healthy and green it was all looking, a smile spread across Nomin’s lips.

Crouching, Nomin was just glad to see how everything was coming together. She was glad that she had mixed cinnamon and clove together to mix with the soil, because the grape vines were looking great aside from small chewed up leaves from vilekin that could fly and avoid the ground.

Bringing out a small phial, Nomin took her watering can and tapped a couple drops of the solution into the water. She then made sure to water the smile thoroughly before finally feeling finished with her garden chores.

When the telltale clamor of a mammet walking up the pathway reached her horns, Nomin walked over to the fence and peeked around. The mammet that acted as courier was approaching, its wig bouncing with each ambling step it took. A sealed letter was clutched in its hand, and Nomin opened the gate so that she could meet the mammet before it reached the cabin proper.

“A lEtTeR hAs CoMe iN fOr YoU.” The courier mammet paused, lifting the letter abruptly.

“Where from?” Nomin asked as she approached and took the letter.

“RaDz-At-HaN.”

“Ah… Thank you.” Nomin then waved off the mammoth, turning the envelope over and breaking the wax seal. Taking out the letter revealed handwriting she did not immediately recognize, but the signature at the bottom tipped her off. The letter had been written by Vrtra -- or rather, his simulacrum, Varshahn.

Skimming the contents that she could read, Nomin had some difficulty parsing the handwriting. It was far more fanciful writing than she was used to. However, the gist of it was clear: Vrtra wanted to let her know the state of Radz-at-Han and the efforts going toward rebuilding. There was also an apology for making extra use of Estinien’s time in Thavnair, keeping him away for an extended period than what may have been discussed between him and Nomin in the past.

Shaking her head with a small sigh, Nomin folded the letter and tucked it away. Nothing to have been done about that. Even she herself had been getting the mammets on the island to help with relief efforts by making things that could be transported toward those in need. It was better than trying to turn a profit for the time being at any rate. That would have felt like turning a blind eye toward everyone and everything that still needed aid.

There was much and more to have been done, certainly, but at least Nomin could have solace knowing that everything at this time was rooted in aiding one another and setting aside differences. Much as the notion made her feel like a hypocrite at times. After all, there was still much and more to be said about her feelings regarding the Jhungid and her past with them.

No matter…

Nomin headed into the cabin, taking her boots off before entering, and went to look for some ink and parchment. At the very least, she could send back a response. Maybe she could have even sent a small care package along with it. While she mulled over that, she did wonder how exactly Estinien was doing during his time back under Vrtra's employ.

A small smile found its way onto Nomin’s lips once she procured her writing supplies and took a seat at the dining table. All things considered, this era that was spreading itself across Etheirys was a welcome one.

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

“Apply your body into the actions of wielding your lance. ‘Tis not just upper body strength alone that you need, but the ability to remain steady on foot.” Estinien stood close to a younger member of Vrtra’s Radiant Host, arms folded over his chest as he gave instruction. He recalled that in Coerthas, the art of the lance evolved from being something that was primarily done on chocoboback to needing to be practiced steadily for being on foot after the Calamity struck. Chocobos were less of an accessible beast of war since that had happened.

Hraesvelgr’s imparted information of dragoons fighting alongside dragons also hung in the back of Estinien’s mind. Surely, lancers at the sides of dragons must have been something. Alas, the only dragon that Thavnair had was the satrap himself.

Returning his mind to the lessons he had undergone, Estinien thought about how the Knights Dragoon mastered aspecting their aether to the winds so that they could assist in guiding their movements. It even allowed the miraculous jumps that would leave many people looking on in awe. It sure did when Estinien performed such techniques for the recruits of either the Temple Knights or the Radiant Host to watch and take note from.

A familiar presence pulled Estinien from his thoughts, and he looked over his shoulder. Walking his way was one of few simulacrums Vrtra used for himself that held the name ‘Varshahn.’ A bag was slung over his shoulder, and Estinien figured that it must have been supplies or goods for the Radiant Host.

“‘Tis unusual to see you out here,” Estinien said, foregoing a greeting.

“More unusual that we receive letters and goods for a particular dragoon who happens to find himself in Thavnair,” Varshahn replied in kind. There was a slight smirk upon the simulacrum’s face as he came to a halt not too far away from one of the nearby tents that served as a place of rest for any of the recruits who were done with training.

Estinien’s eyes narrowed momentarily.

“... If these letters and goods come from Aymeric, I request they be sent to my lodgings instead. I am not want for letters nor the potential bribery of returning to Ishgard,” Estinien said, looking back toward the Radiant Host he was overseeing that day.

“Ah, but they are from someone else,” Varshan replied. He walked further to meet with Estinien, shrugging the bag from his shoulder and handing it off. “I would not think you would wish to be kept from Nomin’s words and gifts. So I endeavored to get them to your hands as soon as they were received at the Meghaduta.”

Estinien’s attention went right back to Varshahn after learning who the sender was, and he dropped his arms to his sides. Taking up the bag, he glanced down at it and then replied, “I suppose she’s enjoying her time at the island Tataru got for her… No matter. My thanks for taking the time to make such a delivery.”

“Of course,” Varshahn said. His attention soon went to the Radiant Host. “I trust that everything has gone well otherwise?”

“I’ve no complaints.” Estinien walked over toward the shade of the tent, unclasping his gauntlets as he did so. “Your Radiant Host are ever eager to improve upon their technique. You may very well have your own set of Radiant Dragoon ere long.”

A chuckle escaped Varshahn. “Would that we would have need of dragoons in Thavnair. Were my sister, Ratatoskr still among us, perhaps she would wish to see dragon and man fight side by side once more and help aid those efforts. Here in Thavnair, however…it is just me and Azdaja. Spearmen who are capable are more than enough.”

“... Aye… With luck, Thavnair won’t have need of them.”

“Indeed…” Varshahn glanced over at Estinien. “It gladdens me that you have been looking out for my Radiant Host. I shall not keep you any longer. You are surely eager to read of Nomin’s writing.”

“A strong sentiment, but aye…” Estinien grimaced at the idea of sitting down to skim over the written word. But, having something of a physical item from Nomin was appreciated nevertheless.

“Then I shall leave you to it.”

Estinien watched as the small version of Varshahn began his journey back toward Radz-at-Han before opening the bag that had been given to him. New clothes had been provided, as had snack items of varying kinds. Eventually, Estinien reached in and pulled out the sealed envelope. Breaking the seal, he set to reading the letter that caught him up on what Nomin had been up to and the little drawings she included of some of the seeds she had planted thanks to him bringing them to her.

A small smirk found its way onto Estinien’s lips as he glanced over Nomin’s words. She kept things to the point, and had more sketches than paragraphs to share, thankfully.

All-in-all, Estinien was simply glad that Nomin was getting all this time for the rest and enjoyment she deserved.

[dzthenerd490]

File: Elfen Lied

SCP#: ADY

Code Name: The Clone Plague/ The Diclonius Invasion

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: All contained instances of SCP-ADY-Alpha are contained at Site-AB. They are to be contained within metal coffins and have headsets that project memetic images into their eyes. The memetic agents send their minds into a dream-like state within the mind allowing them to indulge in whatever desires they want without limitations. Meanwhile the metal coffins hook them up to Pygmalion Bio Editor Station that keeps their bodies paralyzed while also injecting them with the medication and nutrients needed for their bodies to stay alive. The only exception is Lucy.

Lucy is contained at Site-AF and is to be given any furniture, books, and games she desires. Any Foundation staff that show scorn or hatred towards her are to be punished with cleaning duty of SCP-035's containment cell. There are no exceptions. 

SCP-ADY-Beta instances are contained depending on their mental state and allyship with the Foundation. Though for obvious reasons none are allowed within Site-AM even if they have confirmed to have no violent tendencies or desire to spread infection. Those that prove they are not a threat, but allies are sent to the higher levels of Site-AF and given treatment similar to Lucy. Those with the worst personalities and most violent tendencies are contained within one of the sublevels of Site-AF. There they are used for testing weapons and armor that are supposed to be useful against metaphysical threats. They are typically used until they die and are later dissected and harvested for testing purposes. Under no circumstances are any SCP-ADY instances in the higher or lower levels ever to interact with one another even through eye contact and even if it's just once. 

SCP-ADY-Delta instances are to be killed on sight and have their bodies transported to the nearest Foundation site for dissection, harvesting, and testing. There are no exceptions. 

Most SCP-ADY-Gamma are Contained at Site-AD, though depending on their mutation it's possible for them to be sent elsewhere. Dr. Wicked and administrative staff at Site-AD are to be debriefed on what exactly the anomalous properties of each SCP-ADY-Gamma instance so that they can make proper containment for each instance. Please see Addendum X-32 for details.

Description: SCP-ADY is a virus that once infecting humans causes any children, they convince to not be born as a human but instead an entirely different species. The most common of these instances are SCP-ADY-Beta instances. SCP-ADY-Beta instances take on the appearance of young and beautiful girls with red eyes, pink hair, and horns growing out of their head. Despite being horns they can often be perceived as cat ears from a distance further making the SCP-ADY-Beta instances look adorable and pretty as a result. 

However, despite looking cute, SCP-ADY-Beta instances are extremely dangerous. Upon reaching a certain age, normally 10 years old, each SCP-ADY-Beta instance gains the anomalous ability to manifest four arm-like appendages from their back. These appendages are metaphysical in nature, being invisible and able to phase through all forms of matter. SCP-ADY-Beta instances can control the physical state of these appendages in whether they can phase or become solid, the maximum length of these appendages are normally 2-4 meters. These appendages, or meta-arms, despite resembling arms, move around like tentacles and can do so with incredible speed. Once solid, they are strong enough to bend steel easily, rip apart flesh effortlessly, and can even infect humans with SCP-ADY upon contact.

SCP-ADY-Beta instances are very good at absorbing knowledge and thus can become a genius in a matter of hours upon being born. It's not uncommon for SCP-ADY-Beta instances to act innocent, cute, and fragile in order to get the drop on humans they plan to infect or kill. When an SCP-ADY-Beta instance infects a human with their meta-arms, the resulting child from pregnancy is an SCP-ADY-Beta instance exactly like themselves. However, they will always start off with the same personality the original SCP-ADY-Beta instance started off with the same desires and views on humanity regardless of how much the parent SCP-ADY-Beta instance has changed in personality and desires since then. The only exception is SCP-ADY-Alpha instances.

SCP-ADY-Alpha instances are considered the Queens of the overall species. Each SCP-ADY-Alpha instance is similar to SCP-ADY-Beta instances though they all have the ability to create unique SCP-ADY-Beta instances with their infection and can summon more of these meta-arms either by the age of 10 or over time through various other means. The normal count of meta-arms they can grow is anywhere between 8-32 and can extend anywhere from 3-30 meters, possibly longer.

SCP-ADY-Alpha instances are the true progenitors of all other variants within the SCP-ADY species and the carriers of the true pure form of the virus. SCP-ABY-Beta instances are not necessarily obedient to SCP-ADY-Alpha instances, but they normally do not attack one another regardless. Each SCP-ADY-Alpha instance is born the same way as a SCP-ABY-Beta instance, they are like a mutation that has a 10% of happening for every SCP-ADY birth. 

Currently the Foundation is in possession of eight of these instances. The most important on record is one named Lucy. Lucy has the particular ability of accelerated thought, allowing her to perceive and remember everything she sees around her with great efficiency, accuracy, and speed. This with the added bonus that all SCP-ADY metaphysical arms can move at incredible speeds means she could essentially do hundreds of things around her at once. It's even possible for her to use her metaphysical arms to block hundreds of different bullets around her. Thankfully being raised with Foundation staff she has grown a kinship with humanity and all life as a result. She has no desire to kill non-SCP-ADY life and no desire to spread the infection. She does get aggravated when the occasional Foundation staff member bullies her but thankfully it never gets too violent, she normally just plunges them headfirst into the nearest toilet. 

SCP-ADY-Delta instances are extremely rare male counterparts of all the SCP-ADY instances. They sometimes have pink hair, red eyes, and horns like their female counterparts but more often than not, they are bald with just the horns. Most of the time they are unable to manifest the metaphysical arms. The best they can do is manifest one, two if they are lucky; their length is normally 1 meter or lower. SCP-ADY-Delta instances are considered not a threat on their own; however, if an SCP-ADY-Delta instance were to mate with an SCP-ADY-Beta instance the result would be a naturally birthed SCP-ADY-Alpha instance. Furthermore, if one was to mate with an SCP-ADY-Alpha instance, the result would be an even more powerful SCP-ADY-Alpha instance. As such, every SCP-ADY-Delta instance is to be killed on sight, there are no exceptions. 

SCP-ADY-Gamma are extremely peculiar instances, in that they are not supposed to exist. SCP-ADY-Gamma instances are the result of the SCP-ADY infection spreading unknowingly to non-humans. The resulting mutations have led to an abundance of abnormalities. Please see Addendum X-32 for details. 

SCP-ADY was discovered in Japan in 1917 when the National Research Institute on Human Evolution tried to form into power by capturing and sharing research on SCP-ADY with the Japanese Government. It was quickly destroyed by the Global Occult Coalition and most of the SCP-ADY instances captured there were killed as well. Over the years survivors of the Institute as well as escaped SCP-ADY instances have been hunted by the GOC. 

Unfortunately, under law of the ACPA, the Global Occult Coalition has complete reins over the subjugation of SCP-ADY. As such, the Foundation's Japanese division is to merely wait for SCP-ADY instances to show up at their doorstep in order to have any rights to containment. This is why no specific MTF has been assigned or created to deal with the threat. 

SCP-ADY was considered a massive threat upon discovery; However, as of 2005 a vaccine has been created and secretly distributed to the public through normal vaccines. Naturally without the virus, the population of SCP-ADY instances are slowly dying out. Though unfortunately there are SCP-ADY-Gamma instances that are able to create a different strain of the virus making the vaccine worthless against them. Thankfully the Foundation was able to gain reign over these instances, though that is not to say it's always been successful. 

The SCP-ADY-Gamma infection has proven extremely impossible to properly predict and is extremely dangerous to the point multiple MTF have been created for even a single instance and the Foundation has suffered massive damage and casualties as a result. It's unknown if the situation will ever get better or become progressively worse as a result. It is solely because of SCP-ADY-Gamma instances that SCP-ADY is still given the Object Classification of Keter.

Update 2008 - Lucy and the few confirmed non-hostile SCP-ADY-Beta instances have been employed by the Foundation. Though unknown to them, chips have been placed on the back of their necks so that if they start going on rampages they will be killed instantly. Though thankfully such a scenario requiring the devices has never occurred, it is with hope this will continue long into the future. Furthermore, Lucy has joined MTF Alpha-9 Division "Sword" and with the help of Dr. Talic has managed to control her murderous instances to reserve it towards hostiles instead. 

Side Note: SCP-ADY instances have unfortunately fallen into the possession of other groups of Interest such as The Black Queen's Insurgency; Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd; Herman Fuller's Circus of the Disquieting; SAPPHIRE; The Reliquary; IJAMEA; The Fifth Church; The Serpent's Hand; Shark Punching Center; and The Dark Dragons. Some have even been reported trying to help restore the SCP-ADY population for various different reasons. The ACPA's efforts to stop this are ongoing.

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[siberian-xanadu]

First page of An American Odyssey

Hope you guys like it!

Los Angeles, the city of angels. The only angels there, however, are the long-forgotten, long-dead dreams. Of course, there's the random success story of a young person going out West, seeking fame and fortune, and actually stumbling upon it. Other times, people make it through connections, either from relatives, friends, or sex work. Both of these cases are far and few between. Most of the time, people go out there, expecting success to come to them due to a mythologized perception of Hollywood being a magical place, a myth that Hollywood perpetuates, and some grandiose feeling that they are somehow the lucky one. Instead, they end up doing endless openings at bars, performing on street corners, or doing commercials for products that end up being a sham. By the time their dreams are dead, they’ve been chewed up and spit out. Many end up becoming addicted to various substances, offing themselves, penniless, or some combination of the three. Some, if they’re still young enough, might attempt to make their way back to their hometown, or somewhere like it, to settle for comparative mediocrity. Octavian James, frontman of a psychedelic rock band that has long faded into obscurity, is one of the latter. 

The band, Bad Bodies, had spent ten years chasing fame out in Los Angeles, after Octavian dropped out of high school. They spent ten years opening for slightly less obscure bands at shady, seedy bars and clubs. Tens years packing in the backs of cars, along with the piles of heavy equipment, the smell of stale beer, stale sweat, and stale vomit, and the heavy miasma of disappointment, trying to cough up enough gas money to trek to their next gig. Ten years of trying to get record companies to notice them, of sucking up to older, blading producers, smoking Cubans, with the same old tired phrase: “Sorry, kids, you’re not what we’re looking for.” Ten years, with nothing to show for it except their worn-out instruments, the clothes on their back, and some new gray hairs. Octavian, his bassist Walter, and their drummer Rick, had finally gotten that little yellow eviction notice on their apartment door,  after missing rent and allowing their guitarists, Robby and Jack, to sleep on their couch after they had been kicked out a month prior. Octavian had long been sick of the L.A. heat, anyhow. He had been just waiting for a reason to get out of that town, to finally lay to rest his fly-by-night teenage dream, and that yellow, slightly greasy piece of paper might as well have been gold. He wouldn’t be leaving much behind this time, just a dingy, overcrowded apartment with a slight rat infestation (as if a rat infestation could be “slight”), some cheap furniture from Sears, and his dreams, washed away with time and sunken deep in the waters of the grand Pacific. 

The last time he left was quite different. The memories of afternoon sunlight, filtered through trees in the late summer, a creaky wooden porch, the sticky humidity of that last day in Ithaca… No, not the island of Ithaca in Greece, Octavian had never so much as had the chance to leave the United States, but of its namesake in western New York. That was his hometown, and despite ten years and roughly three thousand miles of distance, he could instantly transport himself there with a thought. What he had left behind then was two loving, supportive, albeit confused parents, a steady part-time job and another job lined up for him at his parents’ store, and a beautiful young lady, his high school sweetheart. Chasing the highs of Ashbury in 1967, he left that all behind, now sentenced to mere memory. Since the reality of his decision had hit him, he consistently chided himself on making such a foolish gamble. He found himself stuck with a druggie, a restless vagabond, a jester, and an emotional outcast. He was spent, and in some form or another, his compatriots were too. 

“Alright, buckle up you fucks, we’re going home,” he said, after ripping off the piece of paper and crumpling it in his hand. His voice was passionless yet firm. He was not to be swayed nor argued with.