#Committee of Twenty Five

[ausetkmt]

Knights of Liberty - Wikipedia

Pictured here is Moses Dickson, from the frontispiece illustration of the 1879 book A Manual of the Knights of Tabor and Daughters of the Tabernacle. In 1872, the Rev. Moses Dickson founded the International Order of Twelve of Knights and Daughters of Tabor, an African-American fraternal order focused on benevolence and financial programs. Dickson was born a free man in Cincinnati in 1824, was a Union soldier during the Civil War, and afterwards became a prominent clergyman in the African Methodist Episcopal Church. Dickson showed an interest in progressive fraternal organizations early on – in 1846 Dickson, with others, founded a society known as the Knights of Liberty, whose objective was to overthrow slavery; the group did not get beyond the organizing stages. Dickson was also involved in Freemasonry – he was the second Grand Master of the Prince Hall Grand Lodge of Missouri.

Dickson’s International Order of Twelve of Knights and Daughters of Tabor – or Order of Twelve, as it’s more commonly know – accepted men and women on equal terms. Men and women met together in higher level groups and in the governance of the organization, although at the local level they met separately – the men in “temples” and the women in “tabernacles” (akin to “lodges” in Freemasonry). The Order of Twelve was most prominent in the South and the lower Midwest. The major benefits to members – similar to many fraternal orders of the time – was a burial policy and weekly cash payments for the sick.

What many people today remember about the Order of Twelve is an institution founded in Mound Bayou, Misssissippi in 1942 – the Taborian Hospital. Michael Premo, a Story Corps facilitator, posted his appreciation for the impact that the Taborian Hospital had on the lives of African-Americans living in the Mississippi Delta from the 1940s-1960s. The Taborian Hospital was on the Mississippi Heritage Trust’s 10 Most Endangered List of 2000, and an update to that list indicates that the hospital still stands vacant and seeks funding for renovation. Here are some photos of the Taborian Hospital today.

Want to learn more about the Order of Twelve? Here are a few primary and secondary sources that we have here in our collection (with primary sources listed first):

Dickson, Moses. A Manual of the Knights of Tabor and Daughters of the Tabernacle, including the Ceremonies of the Order, Constitutions, Installations, Dedications, and Funerals, with Forms, and the Taborian Drill and Tactics. St. Louis, Mo. : G. I. Jones [printer], 1879. Call number: RARE HS 2259 .T3 D5 1879

—-. Ritual of Taborian Knighthood, including : the Uniform Rank. St. Louis, Mo. : A. R. Fleming & Co., printers, 1889. Call number: RARE HS 2230 .T3 D5 1889

Beito, David. From Mutual Aid to the Welfare State: Fraternal Societies and Social services, 1890-1967. Chapel Hill, N.C. : University of North Carolina Press, 2000. Call number: 44 .B423 2000

Skocpol, Theda, Ariane Liazos, Marshall Ganz. What a Mighty Power We Can Be : African American Fraternal Groups and the Struggle for Racial Equality. Princeton : Princeton University Press, 2006. Call number: 90 .S616 2006 (1)

(1)  From The National Heritage Museum -   http://nationalheritagemuseum.typepad.com/library_and_archives/2008/05/moses-dickson-a.html

SOME ADDITIONAL INTERESTING INFORMATION ABOUT MOSES DICKSON

Moses Dickson, prior to the Civil War was a traveling barber.  Later he became an AME minister and was known as Father Dickson.

He was one of the Founders of the Lincoln Institute, now Lincoln University in Jefferson City, Misouri.

In 1879 along with others such as James Milton Turner, John Wheeler and John Turner he helped create the Committee of Twenty Five, organized to set up temporary housing for the more than 10,000 travelers who passed through St. Louis each year.

He was President of the Refugee Relief Board in St. Louis which helped to shelter and feed 16,000 former slaves who relocated to Kansas.

Moses Dickson was the first Grand Lecturer of the Most Worhipful Prince Hall Grand Lodge of Missouri upon its foundation in 1865.  He was the second Grand Master of this Grand Lodge and the Grand Secretary in 1869.

In 1876 Companion Moses dickson was elected Deputy Grand High Priest of the Grand Chapter of Holy Royal Arch Masons of Missouri and Jurisdiction.

Moses Dickson wrote the Ritual of Heroines of Jericho penning the “Master Mason’s Daughter,” the “True Kinsman,” and “Heroines of Jericho” degrees. It was sold and distributed by the Moses Dickson Regalia and Supply Co., Kansas City, Missouri and entered into the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C. in the year 1895.

The Knights of Liberty was organized by 12 Black Men in secret in August, 1846 in St. Louis, Missouri.  They were also known as the Knights of Tabor or the International Order of Twelve. Tabor is a Biblical mountain in Israel where the Israelites won a big victory over the Canaanites.

Moses Dickson was a leader of the Underground Railroad.  He and 47,000 other Knights enlisted in the Union Army as soon as Linclon authorized Black men to sign up.

Disbanded by the Civil War many of the Knights of Liberty reformed after the War was over into a benevolent fraternal society named the International Order of the Twelve Knights and Daughters of Tabor. Moses Dickson authored “International Order of Twelve 333 of Knights and Daughters of Tabor,” a book outlining the Constitution, Rules and Regulations of the Temples of the Uniform Rank of Tabor and Taborian Division.

Moses Dickson died on November 28, 1901. A truly remarkable man!

Originally published at the National Heritage Museum’s blog. The National Heritage Museum is an American history museum founded and supported by 32° Scottish Rite Freemasons in the Northern Masonic Jurisdiction of the United States of America.

#Moses Dickson and The Knights of Liberty #Moses Dickson #Knights of Liberty #Black Revolutionaries #International Order of Twelve #Twelve Knights and Daughters of Tabor #International Order of Twelve 333 #Committee of Twenty Five #St Louis #missouri #freedom #Freedmen #Refugee Relief Board in St. Louis #Ritual of Heroines of Jericho #oes

[kelin-is-writing]

fwb!touya who despite your agreement on not necessarily having to stop seeing other peoples, has deleted the contacts of the two or three girls he used to occasionally hook up with, when you weren’t around, the moment you two had started your relationship and everytime he crosses paths with them at school he barely even acknowledges their existence. why? ohh that’s because the moment you, the girl he desires on a soul-type of level, has agreed to be in all this with him touya’s eyes haven’t been able to look away from you, not even for a split second.

fwb!touya who a mere call or text for you telling him how much you miss and want to see him, is enough to make him skip practices with his rock band only to run over to your place and spend time with you. be it doing homework, watching movies or those weird reality shows that secretly pique his interest, playing games that usually end up in heated makeout sessions, you putting on nail polish while he styles your hair, cooking together, napping together, having sex four or five times. just you two basically being all over each others at any given occasion. touya wanted you close to him as much as possible and he was going to have exactly that.

fwb!touya who keeps telling himself you two are just ‘friends with benefits’ but from time to time he finds himself playing the guitar, compose and writes songs while thinking about you. he would’ve never wanted to admit it, for the moment, but you’ve been his muse since the first day you guys meet and the major reason for it was your smile, your laugh, your voice… that beautiful spark in your eyes whenever you looked at him… it made his heart warm up and a pleasing emptiness take over his stomach… shit… this wasn’t good at all, he was going into a dangerous territory right there and it wasn’t supposed to happen.

fwb!touya who has never marked any girl he’s sleep with before nor has he ever permitted them to mark him, because he has never felt the need to do that with his past flings; yet it took only one week, three days, fourteen hours, thirty-two minutes and twenty-six seconds in your relationship to make him go around the campus proudly, a shit-eating grin on his face, with your glossy lipstick imprint onto the side of his neck right where everyone could see it while you walked around with his teethes’ mark on your neck; a statement dedicated to everybody in the school that told all of them he is yours and you are his.

fwb!touya who never holds back from showing off to everyone your close relationship. you could be talking to a classmate and he would walk up to you surrounding your waist with an arm, pulling you flush against his side, and ask genuinely curious and interested what you guys were talking about while leaning his cheek against your head as he hummed along to the explanation you gave him with that voice of yours that is as beautiful as you are, completely smitten and mesmerized. once you were talking with another classmate of yours, that was assigned as a committee with you for a school festival, about some preparations when he came up to you ignoring the other person’s presence and just fixing his intense gaze on you while asking if everything was alright and if you needed any help while delicately moving a strand of hair behind your ear and then rest it gently on the back of your head to let you know that it was fine to lean on him whenever things became too much.

fwb!touya who keeps telling you and himself that the two of you are just ‘friends with benefits’, but the way he fucks you, talks to you and overall treats you are far from being those of an actual ‘friends with benefits’ and he doesn’t notice until a random guy who’s a schoolmate of you two and fan of his band starts asking him about you, throws glances your way, tries (but fails) to flirt with you and touya is watching over you two seething as he smokes by the fences outside the school’s building, tomura being the one who makes him notices that he’s clenching his jaw so hard they can hear his teethes scratching together. it’s right then that he realizes that the reason he had suggested all that thing between you two wasn’t only because he was attracted to you, but because he has been in love with you the whole time since the start of your friendship.

#boku no academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #dabi #touya todoroki #bnha smut #mha smut #dabi smut #touya todoroki smut #bnha x reader smut #mha x reader smut #dabi x reader smut #touya todoroki x reader smut #fwb!touya #— ❥ kelwrites; #I’M BACK WITH ANOTHER FWB!TOUYA PIECE BECAUSE I WAS RECENTLY LISTENING TO A SONG AND IT INSPIRED ME ALL THESE #also you guys seem to like A LOT the previous piece i wrote about fwb!touya so i told my self ‘why not??? if peoples likes it!!’ #and yeah guys… fwb!touya is 1000‰ the type of fwb who’s BOUND to become a huge ass simp for you. that’s a fact actually. #he would be so in denial for the longest time EVVVER but that’s too late because it just comes naturally to him to act like a simp over you

[txttletale]

how do ml's reconcile with lenin going for a bigbrainhaver hierarchy which just so happened to place him at the tippy top? most of the things he's quoted for writing make a kind of sense in that longwinded academic philosopher way, but, like, russia went from having a revolution against monarchy to having a monarchy, essentially, and what folks do tends to align with their desires, yeah? wouldn't that make everything he said, idk, suspicious?

we reconcile with this because none of this is even remotely true. lenin did not 'happen to be placed at the tippy top' but was in fact elected by the soviets, who worked in a very simple electoral system by which workers and peasants would elect representatives to their local soviet, who as well as administering local services would also elect members to higher bodies. the quote unquote bigbrainhaver hierarchy system in question was as follows:

The sovereign body is in every case the Congress of Soviets. Each county sends its delegates. These are elected indirectly by the town and county Soviets which vote in proportion to population, following the ratio observed throughout, by which the voters in the town have five times the voting strength of the inhabitants of the villages, an advantage which may, as we saw, be in reality three to one. The Congress meets, as a rule, once a year, for about ten days. It is not, in the real sense of the word, the legislative body. It debates policy broadly, and passes resolutions which lay down the general principles to be followed in legislation. The atmosphere of its sittings is that of a great public demonstration. The Union Congress, for example, which has some fifteen hundred members, meets in the Moscow Opera House. The stage is occupied by the leaders and the heads of the administration, and speeches are apt to be big oratorical efforts. The real legislative body is the so-called Central Executive Committee (known as the C. I. K. and pronounced "tseek") . It meets more frequently than the Congress to which it is responsible-in the case of the Union, at least three times in the year-passes the Budget, receives the reports of the Commissars (ministers), and discusses international policy. It, in its turn, elects two standing bodies: (1) The Presidium of twenty-one members, which has the right to legislate in the intervals between the sittings of the superior assemblies, and also transacts some administrative work. (2) The Council of Peoples' Commissars. These correspond roughly to the Ministers or Secretaries of State in democratic countries and are the chiefs of the administration. Meeting as a Council, they have larger powers than any Cabinet, for they may pass emergency legislation and issue decrees which have all the force of legislation. Save in cases of urgency, however, their decrees and drafts of legislation must be ratified by the Executive Committee (C.I.K.). In another respect they differ from the European conception of a Minister. Each Commissar is in reality the chairman of a small board of colleagues, who are his advisers. These advisory boards, or collegia, meet very frequently (it may even be daily) to discuss current business, and any member of a board has the right to appeal to the whole Council of Commissars against a decision of the Commissar.

—H.N. Brailsford, How The Soviets Work (1927)

you might notice that the congresses of soviets were not directly elected -- this is because they were elected by local soviets, who were directly elected, in a process that many people have given first hand accounts of:

I have, while working in the Soviet Union, participated in an election. I, too, had a right to vote, as I was a working member of the community, and nationality and citizenship are no bar to electoral rights. The procedure was extremely simple. A general meeting of all the workers in our organisation was called by the trade union committee, candidates were discussed, and a vote was taken by show of hands. Anybody present had the right to propose a candidate, and the one who was elected was not personally a member of the Party. In considering the claims of the candidates their past activities were discussed, they themselves had to answer questions as to their qualifications, anybody could express an opinion, for or against them, and the basis of all the discussion was: What justification had the candidates to represent their comrades on the local Soviet. As far as the elections in the villages were concerned, these took place at open village meetings, all peasants of voting age, other than those who employed labour, having the right to vote and to stand for election. As in the towns, any organisation or individual could put forward candidates, anyone could ask the candidate questions, and anybody could support or oppose the candidature. It is usual for the Communist Party to put forward a candidate, trade unions and other organisations can also do so, and there is nothing to prevent the Party’s candidate from not being elected, if he has not sufficient prestige among the voters. In the towns the “ electoral district ” has hitherto consisted of a factory, or a group of small factories sufficient to form a constituency. But there was one section of the town population which has always had to vote geographically, since they did not work together in one organisation. This was the housewives. As a result, the housewives met separately in each district, had their own constituencies, and elected their own representatives to the Soviet. Here, too, vital interest has always been shown in the personality of every candidate. Why should this woman be elected ? What right had she to represent her fellow housewives on the local Soviet ? In the district next to my own at the last election the housewife who was elected was well known as an organiser of a communal dining-room in the district. This was the kind of person that the housewives wanted to represent them on the Soviet. Another candidate, a Communist, proposed by the local organisation of the Party, was turned down in her favour.

[...]

The election of delegates to the local Soviet is not the only function of voters in the Soviet Union. It is not a question here of various parties presenting candidates to the electorate, each with his own policy to offer. The Soviet electorate has to select a personality from its midst to represent it, and instruct this person in the policy which is to be followed when elected. At a Soviet election meeting, therefore, as much or more time may be spent on discussion of the instructions to the delegate as is spent on discussing the personality of the candidates. At the last election to the Soviets, in which I personally participated, we must have spent three or four times as much time on the working out of instructions as we did on the selection of our candidate. About three weeks before the election was to take place the trade union secretary in every department of our organisation was told by the committee that it was time to start to prepare our instructions to the delegate. Every worker was asked to make suggestions concerning policy which he felt should be brought to the notice of the new personnel of the Moscow Soviet. As a result, about forty proposals concerning the general government of Moscow were handed in from a group of about twenty people. We then held a meeting in our department at which we discussed the proposals, and adopted some and rejected others. We then handed our list of pro¬ posals to a commission, appointed by the trade union committee, and representing all the workers in our organisation. This Commission co-ordinated the pro¬ posals received, placed them in order according to the various departments of the Soviet, and this co-ordinated list was read at the election meeting itself, again discussed, and adopted in its final form.

—Pat Sloan, Soviet Democracy (1937)

Between the elections of 1931 and 1934, no less than 18 per cent of the city deputies and 37 per cent of village deputies were recalled, of whom only a relatively small number — 4 per cent of the total — were charged with serious abuse of power. The chief reasons for recall were inactivity — 37 per cent — and inefficiency — 21 per cent. If these figures indicate certain lacks in the quality of elected officials, they show considerable activity of the people in improving government. The electorate of the Peasants' Gazette, for example, consisted of some 1,500 employees, entitled to elect one deputy to the Moscow city soviet and two to the ward soviet. For more than a month before the election every department of the newspaper held meetings discussing both candidates and instructions. Forty-three suggested candidates and some 1,400 proposals for the work of the incoming government resulted from these meetings, which also elected committees to boil down and classify the instructions. These committees issued a special four-page newspaper for the 1,500 voters; it contained brief biographies of the forty-three candidates, an analysis of their capacities by the Communist Party organization of the Peasants' Gazette, and the "nakaz," or list of "people's instructions," classified by subject and the branch of government which they concerned. At the final election meeting of the Peasants* Gazette there was literally more than 100 per cent attendance, since some of the staff who for reasons of absence or illness had not been listed as prospective voters returned from sanatoria or from distant assignments to vote. The instructions issued by the electorate in this manner — 1,400 from the Peasants' Gazette and tens of thousands from Moscow citizens — became the first business of the incoming government.

—Anna Louise Strong, The New Soviet Constitution (1937)

does this mean that the soviet project was some utopian perfect system? no. there were flaws in the system like any other. it disenfranchised the rural peasantry (although not, i would like to add, to any extent greater or even equivalent to the extent to which the US electoral system disenfranchises the urban working class) -- the various tiers of indirect selection created a divide between the average worker and the highest tier of the executive -- and various elements of this fledgling system would calcify and bureaucratise over time in ways that obstructed worker's democracy. but saying that it was 'a monarchy' is founded in absolutely nothing except the most hysterical anticommunist propaganda and tedious orwellian liberal truisms.

even brailsford, in an account overall critical of the soviet system, had to admit:

Speaking broadly, the various organs of the system, from the Council of Commissars of the Union down to the sub-committees of a town Soviet, are handling the same problems. Whether one sits in the Kremlin at a meeting of the most august body of the whole Union, the "C.I.K.," or round a table in Vladimir with the working men who constitute its County Executive Committee, one hears exactly the same problems discussed. How, be-fore June arrives, shall we manage to reduce prices by ten percent? What growth can we show in the number of our spindles, or factories, and in the number of workers employed? When and how shall we make our final assault on the last relics of illiteracy? Or when shall we have room in our schools, even in the remotest village, for every child? Was it by good luck or good guidance that the number of typhus cases has dropped in a year by half? And, finally, how can we hasten the raising of clover seed, so that the peasants who, at last, thanks to our propaganda, are clamoring for it, may not be disappointed?

—H.N. Brailsford, How The Soviets Work (1927)

genuinely, i think you should take a moment and think about where you learned about the soviet union. have you read any serious historical work on the topic, even from non-communist or anti-communist sources? because even imperialist propagandists have to make a pretence at engaging with actual facts on the ground, something which you haven't done at all -- and yet you speak with astounding confidence. i recommend you read some serious books instead of animal farm and reflect on why you believe the things you believe and how you know the things you think you know.

#ask #barkmoon

[janeyseymour]

hiii!! i hope you’re doing well. i was hoping to request a melissa x reader. where the reader is really struggling with mental health and her gf (melissa) is starting to notice it.

one day during work (they school) the reader gets into an argument with one of the other teachers and the teacher says some rude stuff to her which hurts her a lot. the reader leaves the school for the day w/o telling melissa.

(hurt, comfort, some fluff)

Hi! I'm so behind on writing because of my school situation at the moment... but I hope this is what you were looking for! As always, not edited in the slightest

Good Days, Bad Days

wc: ~2.6k

You’ve been struggling lately. You hate to admit it to even just yourself, much less anyone else. But you are struggling. You don’t really know why.

Okay. You do know why. 

You’re taking on too much- school is overwhelming between the kids and the extra tasks you���ve decided to take on (why you thought being part of the curriculum development committee is beyond you), things are getting more serious with your girlfriend, and you have to admit you aren’t doing a great job of balancing everything. You’re trying your best, but it’s getting really hard. Your ideas are shot done more and more. You feel like you barely see Melissa, and when you do, the two of you are arguing about God even knows what. It always ends up with the two of you in bed holding each other and promising you aren’t upset with each other and that you love each other, but it’s becoming a sick cycle- and not a cycle the two of you necessarily want to be in. 

And the fiery redhead is starting to notice the way that your mental health has been declining. She’s been watching it steadily for the last month or so. The way you haven’t been eating as much, the way you can barely keep your eyes open at times, how you fall asleep almost every time you’re sitting still. You’re constantly irritable, and you burst into tears at least once a day.

“My love,” she whispers as she pulls you closer. 

You sob into her shoulder. “I just- I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!” you blubber.

“You aren’t doing anything wrong, honey,” she tries to reassure you, although her words fall upon mostly deaf ears. Your tears are uncontrollable, and at this point, you’ve lost yourself. You don’t even know why you’re crying this time.

“C’mon, amore,” she rocks you gently. “Let’s get you up to bed. You need some rest.”

“I- I can’t!” you whine. “I have to come up with more ideas for the curriculum meeting tomorrow, and I have to grade the kids’ social studies projects, and I- I-” You struggle to catch your breath as you hiccup out a sob.

She takes a few deep breaths, hoping you’ll follow her motions. You do, just barely. She smiles softly and praises you. “Good. Keep breathing, honey. You’re okay,” she mumbles against your head.

After a bit of calming yourself down, you reach for your students’ social studies projects and start to grade them again. Melissa settles on the barstool next to you and grabs her own stack. She helps you grade them, and then the two of you head to bed. She holds you until she falls asleep, and then she reaches for her laptop that’s on the nightstand. She finds a few new ideas for curriculum that might help to benefit the students, emails them to you, and curls up around you again. 

You wake up the next morning dreading the day. You have your meeting during your prep, meaning you won’t have time to prep the materials you need to for the science experiment today and will instead be setting everything up during your lunch. You have recess duty today, so you really won’t be able to settle at all today. 

“Y/N,” Melissa shakes you awake gently. She’s already ready for school, makeup and all. “It’s time to wake up, hon.”

You whine as you roll over. “Five more minutes, babe.”

“I already let you sleep twenty extra minutes,” she tells you gently. “You gotta get up. You can eat breakfast in the car, but you’re eating breakfast today.”

You sigh and roll out of bed. You get yourself ready for the day before stomping off towards the vehicle. Melissa brings you a bowl of breakfast casserole and gets into the driver’s seat. You only take a few bites before you start to feel nauseous and close your eyes for the rest of the drive. Your girlfriend rests her hand on your thigh as she drives, and she gives it a gentle squeeze once she parks the car.

“We’re here, amore,” she sighs quietly. “I know you’ve been stressed about your meeting today, so I sent you a few curriculum ideas last night. Why don’t you look over them and finish up your breakfast?”

“You did that for me?” You tear up at her thoughtfulness.

“I did,” she smiles at you softly. “But you don’t have time to cry about it right now, hon. You have to prep, and finish breakfast.”

You groan, but you know she’s right. You grab your bags, take the bowl, and head into the school. You settle at your seat in the teachers lounge and start prepping for your meeting at 11, forgetting about your breakfast. The only reason you remember is because Melissa is sitting next to you holding the fork up to your mouth. You blush and take the bite gratefully.

Before you know it, everyone else has filed in, Jacob is playing the news all too loudly, and you pack up your things to work in your classroom. You give the redhead a kiss to the cheek before heading out.

You don’t expect her to follow- you know how much she loves watching Channel 6. But she does with a confused look on her face.

“You okay, hon?” she asks you softly as she pulls up a chair next to your desk.

“Just can’t get distracted today,” you sigh. She doesn’t know how much is riding on this one meeting. 

“You can usually work with the news on?” she furrows her brows and purses her lips.

“I- It was just a little overstimulating today, okay?” you tell her, hoping this smooths everything over. “Go watch the news with them. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” she sucks a breath in. Melissa gives you a soft kiss before seeing herself out. She knows when to leave you be at this point, and you clearly need to be alone right now.

The kids come in far before you’re ready for them. But still, you stand from your desk and meet most of them at the door with a bright smile and a hug if they want one. But Melissa can see the tension in your shoulders and your body language.

Your students are genuinely pretty well behaved today. They’re quiet, they get their independent work done, and you continue to prep for your meeting. You silently thank God for that. You don’t know what you would’ve done if you had to handle behaviors on top of your meeting today. 

They line up, head down to music, and you head into one of the meeting rooms in the office for curriculum development. The lights are too bright. You can hear them flickering. You don’t feel okay in your own body right now- your clothes are itchy, and you can’t stand the way that the chair feels against you.

None of your ideas are received well, and you struggle to hold back tears at this point. Shaina, One of the older teachers upstairs is just digging into every little bit of your being now. You don’t even know what to do- you aren’t even talking about curriculum anymore.

“Maybe, and hear me out guys,” the woman addresses the group. “Instead of focusing so much on developing a new curriculum, when this one works so well for most of us already, we address the actual issue in the room: the shit teachers we have here.” She looks directly at you. You can feel your cheeks flush red and the tears spring to your eyes.

“Hey,” one of the kinder teachers sighs.

“No, no!” Shaina argues. “I’m being serious! We can get rid of the new teachers who think they know everything and can’t teach for the life of them with better ones!”

“I- I think I teach well,” you mumble. “My kids love my lessons that I do with them.”

“Oh please,” the older teacher laughs in your face. “Your kids only pretend so they don’t hurt your pathetic little feelings, Miss Sensitive.”

“I-If they didn’t like my lessons, I think I would know,” you mutter. 

One of the other teachers tries to get back to the focus of this meeting, but Shaina just won’t quit. 

“The only reason they kept your lazy, pathetic ass around here is because of that stupid, bitchy girlfriend of yours,” she comments. “No one wants to fuck with Schemmenti, and certainly no one wants to fuck with you. Hm… maybe that’s why the two of you found each-”

You don’t even bother gathering your notes or laptop. You just head out of the meeting. You can’t stop the red, hot tears that begin to pour over as you run down to your classroom to grab your purse. You can’t be here right now. You just can’t.

You head back into the office, and you can hear the committee still in the conference room now going after Shaina for upsetting you, but you don’t care. You head straight into Ava’s office.

“Ava, I- I need to go home.”

“I don’t have time for-” the principal sighs as she doesn’t even bother to look up from her phone.

“Ava,” you say emphatically. “Please.”

Only then does she look up at you, and she takes in your appearance. She has a bit of a soft spot for you. “Oh, Y/N, girl, what happened?”

“It- it doesn’t matter. I just can’t be here right now, please. I need a sub right now, I’ll even take Mr. J.”

“Should I pull Melissa for you?” she asks, clearly concerned.

“N-no. She was excited to teach her math lesson with them today, so just… she’ll figure it out,” you stutter out. “I’ll just take the bus home. I just- fuck. I need to go home.”

The principal nods and starts making the announcement over the intercom that the janitor needs to report to her office immediately. She gives you a sad nod, and you head out. 

Melissa, not knowing that you’ve gone home, heads into the staff room for lunch. She pulls your lunch out and sets it at your spot for you. But you never show. You’re already about half a bottle deep in wine and drowning your sorrows. When you don’t show after fifteen minutes, she sighs and heads down to your room, fully expecting to find you asleep at your desk. But your bag is gone, your laptop isn’t there, and your mug of coffee is still sitting on your desk half finished. She raises a brow as she heads back down to the teachers lunch room.

“Anyone seen Y/N?” the second grade teacher asks.

“Not since this morning,” Barbara says. “Was she not in her room?”

“No. Her bags are gone too, and her laptop isn’t there?”

“Maybe check the conference room?”

“She does like to work in there sometimes,” Melissa mulls it over as she leaves again. She makes her way down the hall and towards the main office. She finds your laptop, but you’re still nowhere to be found.

“Oi,” she grumbles. “Woman’s lost her damned mind.”

Ava appears behind her. “Your girl went home.”

“She what? She couldn’t have. I drove us in today?”

“She said something about taking the bus,” Ava shrugs. “I ain’t never seen that girl cry the way she was crying. Must’ve finally snapped.”

“Who has her kids?” your girlfriend asks, and she’s immediately fumbling for her phone to call you.

“Mr. Johnson,” the principal shrugs. “She said she would even take him, and I sure as hell don’t got the time to wrangle a bunch of third graders today.”

You see your phone light up with Melissa’s name and the sweet picture you have of the two of you. You send it to voicemail.

“She’s not picking up,” Melissa grumbles.

“She looked pretty beat, like she could fall asleep standing up,” Ava shrugs. 

“She did that the other night,” your girlfriend sighs. “Poor thing.”

“Well, what’re you waiting for? Go save your princess,” the principal chuckles.

“I don’t got no one to cover my class,” she points out. 

“I got it,” Ava tells her. “Anything for Y/N.”

The redhead, while shocked, doesn’t have to be told twice. She heads into the teachers lounge to grab the rest of her lunch and your lunch.

“I’m heading home for the day,” Melissa tells the usual crew. When they give her a questioning look, she just shrugs and continues to pack up your things. It’s none of their business why she’s leaving early.

She rolls through most of the stop signs on the drive home, and only once does she run through a red light where she sure a cop isn’t lingering out of sight. 

When she pulls in, she notices that all of the lights in the house are off, and your car is still sitting right where you left it last night.

“Amore?” she calls softly as she kicks off her shoes at the front door. She enters the living room, and there you are, eyes rimmed red. Your curled up under your favorite blanket, wearing one of her Flyers sweatshirts, with a glass of wine and a carton of ice cream and an empty Wawa hoagie wrapper at your side. Your comfort movie is playing, and you sigh deeply.

“Why are you home?”

“Because when my girlfriend disappears midday and Ava tells me she has me covered, I come home,” Melissa tells you gently as she drops her bags on the bench. She hands you your lunch and settles in next to you. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

You explain what happens, but only after your girlfriend promises you she won’t murder Shaina for upsetting you. When your finished, she’s fuming.

“Babe, you promised you wouldn’t-”

“Yeah,” she grits out. “I lied. That’s worse than what I thought you were going to say.”

“I-it’s not a big deal,” you sigh, trying to smooth it all over. “Today was just a lot for me in general. I was going to get set off no matter what.”

“No, I’ll show her who the shit teacher is… in a non-threatening way,” she adds on. 

“Mel, it just isn’t worth it,” you tell her. “I’ll get over myself, and the other teachers were trying to get her to back off. I’m sure someone will go to Ava about it, but for now… I just want to wallow in my self-loathing and self-pity, okay? I’ll be fine.”

“Can I do anything to help?” she asks softly as she wraps an arm around you and tugs you in. Your head falls on her shoulder, and you sigh.

“Can we have a day in? Just sit with me and let me wallow?” you ask quietly. “I just need today to be sad, and tomorrow I’ll be okay.”

“Let me change, and then I’ll do whatever you need me to do,” she promises you. With a kiss to your head, you let her up. She’s back quickly in a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt- leather pants now gone. Her hair is tied up in a messy ponytail, and you can’t help the small smile that appears on your face.

“What, hun?”

“Just… you,” you tell Melissa as you reach for her. She settles in next to you.

“What about me?”

“I can’t believe I got you by my side,” you mumble as you curl into her side. “Having you makes everything so much better.”

“I’m always here for you, my love.” The redhead kisses your head again as she takes your hand in hers. “Through the good days, through the bad days… all of it.”

#abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti

[haggishlyhagging]

On March 9, 1977, Francine Hughes returned from business college to her Dansville, Michigan, home and put a frozen dinner in the oven for her husband, James. He didn't like it. Francine, he said, should be at home preparing meals for him, not running off to school. He beat her up, as he had done many times before; and to drive home his point he tore up her schoolbooks and term papers and forced her to burn them in the trash barrel. Twelve-year-old Christy Hughes called the police, who came to the house long enough to calm James down but declined, as they had many times before, to arrest him. They left James, tired from beating Francine, asleep in his bedroom. Determined to "just drive away," Francine piled the children into the family car. "Let's not come back this time, Mommy," they said. She carried a gasoline can to the bedroom, poured the contents around the bed where James lay asleep, backed out of the room, and set a match to it The rust of flame sucked the door shut.

Francine Hughes drove immediately to the Ingham County sheriffs office, crying hysterically, "I did it. I did it." She was charged with first-degree murder.

Dansville adjoins East Lansing, home of Michigan State University and consequently of many social-action groups. Within two months feminists and other interested people in the Lansing area had formed the Francine Hughes Defense Committee to raise money and public awareness for her defense. They were careful to say that they neither advocated nor condoned murder, but they held that women confronted with violence have a right to defend themselves. They argued that "Francine Hughes—and many other women facing similar charges—should be free from the threat of punishment," for Francine Hughes was a battered woman.

At the time wife-beating was a growing feminist issue, following close on the heels of feminist attacks upon rape, a crime it resembles in many ways. Both rape and wife-beating are crimes of violence against women. Both are widespread, underreported, trivialized, and inadequately punished by the legal system. Both are acts of terrorism intended to keep all women in their place through intimidation. In fact, rape is often part of wife abuse, though so far only a few states acknowledge even the possibility of rape within marriage. The chief difference between the two crimes is that while the victim of nonmarital rape must live with a terrifying memory, the abused wife lives with her assailant. Rapists are, in Susan Brownmiller's phrase, the "shock troops" of male supremacy. Wife-beaters are the home guard.

American feminists took up the issue of wife-beating when they learned in 1971 of the work of Erin Pizzey, founder of Chiswick Women's Aid, the first shelter house in England exclusively for battered women and their children. Rainbow Retreat, the first American shelter for abused families of alcoholics opened in Phoenix, Arizona, on November 1, 1973; and in St. Paul, Minnesota, Women's Advocates, a collective that began with a phone service in 1972, opened Women's House to battered women and their children in October 1974. Rainbow Retreat, during its first two and a half years, sheltered more than six hundred women and children. In St. Paul the five-bedroom Women's House sheltered twenty-two women and fifteen children during its first month of operation; less than a year later Women's Advocates were negotiating to buy a second house. Across the country the shelter movement spread to Pasadena, San Francisco, Seattle, Boise, Albuquerque, Pittsburgh, Ann Arbor, Boston, New York. To open a shelter was to fill it beyond capacity almost overnight. Suddenly it seemed that battered women were everywhere.

While activists opened shelters, researchers and writers set about documenting the problem of wife-beating or, as it came to be called more euphemistically in the academic literature, "domestic violence." The records showed that 60 percent of night calls in Atlanta concerned domestic disputes. In Fairfax County, Virginia, one of the nation's wealthiest counties, police received 4,073 disturbance calls in 1974. During ten months in 1975-76 the Dade County Florida Citizens Dispute Settlement Center handled nearly 1,000 wife-beating cases. Seventy percent of all assault cases received in the emergency room at hospitals in Boston and Omaha were women who had been attacked in their homes. Eighty percent of divorce cases in Wayne County, Michigan, involved charges of abuse. Ninety-nine percent of female Legal Aid clients in Milwaukee were abused by men.

The FBI guessed that a million women each year—women of every race and social class—would be victims of wife-beating. Journalists Roger Langley and Richard C. Levy put the figure at more than 28 million. Some said that one in four women married to or cohabiting with a man would become a victim; others said one in three. In some areas the incidence seemed even greater. In California the experts said one of every two women would be beaten. And in Omaha, the Mayor's Commission on the Status of Women estimated that 95 percent of women would be abused at some time. There scarcely seemed need of additional evidence, so the same statistics began to turn up in every new account, but repetitious as they were, they showed all too clearly that wife-beating is a social problem of astounding dimensions.

-Ann Jones, Women Who Kill

#ann jones #amerika #male violence #domestic violence #female killers #feminist history

[ana-chronista]

Meow there 😸💛💛, I hope you are well 💛.

For the kiss prompt i would love bojure 17 ... to distract + 48 ... out of habit, please.

Have a nice day 💛💛💛💛💛

First, sorry for the delay - one of these came easier than the other but I wanted to wait until I could share both! (The one that was harder actually went through a whole premise change...) Secondly, thanks for the prompts - this is my first time writing Bojure! I hope I did it justice.

17 ... to distract

The thing about Jure is that he doesn’t get nervous. Bojan’s certainly never seen that look on him, and he’s fairly sure Jure would need a dictionary definition of the word before being able to confirm that he’s never experienced it in his life. “What time is it now?” No, what Jure gets is impatient. “It’s five minutes after you last asked, Muca.” Right now he’s little more than a vibrating ball of energy, hunched over and drumming on his thighs with his palms. “So why haven’t they called yet?” And Bojan gets it, he really does. The committee had told them they’d call by 11am to let them know if they’d been picked for next year’s Eurovision – because for all that there’s no national selection this year, there’s still a process to follow – and there’s nothing that puts you on edge quite like waiting to hear if you’ve managed to land the biggest opportunity of your career so far or not. Jan and Nace are at least twenty minutes into their stress smoke somewhere outside, and Kris is busy pacing the practice space below, organising and reorganising their equipment while speaking rapidly with someone on his phone in a voice too low to catch. Bojan had retreated to the loft to focus on his breathing, and Jure had joined ten minutes later, muttering something about feeling better from a higher vantage point. The fact is, they’re all more than a little tense as the seconds drag by, and he understands fully, a hundred and ten per cent, what Jure is feeling right now. “They just said around 11. It doesn’t mean they’re always going to be dead on, you know?” But his bouncing on the couch next to him is doing nothing to soothe either Jure or himself – in fact, it’s only agitating them both worse. “You’ve definitely got the volume up on your phone?” Bojan’s not sure he’s ever felt so incredulous as he does in that one moment of looking over at his friend. “Seriously, Jurček?” “Well, I don’t know!” Jure huffs in protest. “You might not.” “Do you not think that’s the first thing I would have checked?” He hates that his fingers are now itching to actually do just that. Irritation flares up white-hot inside of him, gritting his teeth and tensing his muscles. “I don’t know! Knowing you, probably n-” Bojan has moved before he even realises it, the only thought in his head that Jure needs to not be talking right now. Suddenly he’s pulled Jure close by his shoulder and the back of his head, crushing his mouth against the drummer’s to cut him off. There’s barely any time to register anything past the warmth of his lips before he breaks away “Boj-” Before he can start up again, Bojan reels him back in for another kiss, this time less hurried but more forceful. He can take it all in properly this time: how Jure’s mouth falls open for him, how he reaches up to brush Bojan’s hair back behind his ear, how much he pushes right back. Jure’s body has stilled now as though all of his energy is just being channelled into this one point of contact, and Bojan can’t pretend it’s not the same for him. His heartrate steadies and his muscles uncoil. It’s like the whole world has narrowed down just to the man next to him on the couch. In fact, it’s narrowed so much that it takes Kris calling him from the floor below to make him jolt back. “Bojan, answer your phone!” It’s only then that he registers his phone ringing at long last. Cursing, he fumbles to answer the call, answering Jure’s laughter only with a dig in the ribs that makes him squeal and squirm away even as Bojan does his best to sound professional and mature. When he next kisses Jure just five minutes later, it’s in celebration instead.

48 ... out of habit

Bojan can’t remember when, or even exactly how, the whole kissing thing had begun. If he had to guess, he’d put it somewhere within the first few months after Jure officially joined the band, probably at some party or on a night out with the others. He’s not even sure if he made the first move or if Jure did, but one of them must have done, because suddenly the tradition was born. Greeting each other for the first time after weeks apart? A kiss on the cheek. Saying goodbye after a night out? A kiss on the cheek. Congratulating one another after a successful gig? A kiss on the cheek. There were rules, of course, unspoken but still there. It had to be as over the top as possible. Why bother if it didn’t involve sweeping in, grabbing the other one dramatically, and landing the biggest, loudest, longest kiss on the cheek known to man? That was all part of the fun. Then, naturally, it became too funny not to do it all the time. Managing not to misplace a suitcase while travelling? Welcoming each other back to the room after five minutes? Celebrating a win in the never-ending Joker Out Uno tournament? No incident was too small to mark with another kiss on the cheek – jokingly, of course. And sometimes it might evolve to a kiss on the lips instead. Bojan did remember how that one had started, the time he’d come in too quick and accidentally caught Jure’s mouth instead as he turned his head. But the laughter had been instantaneous, and Jure had returned it with even more spectacle, so it was all fine. The rules remained the same for the odd time it happened, though usually it devolved into them wrestling to dip the other one first and laughing too much for them to ever make it to each other’s mouths.

And if anyone had ever asked, he’d have to say he’s never really thought about it. It’s not like he hasn’t kissed each of his other bandmates at one time or another, and he knows they’ve all done the same. They’re all just that tactile with each other, like good friends tend to be. So what if he and Jure have this long-running joke just between them as well? That’s also something that good friends do. And he carries on never really thinking about it – except for maybe the odd plan to ambush Jure in ever increasingly over the top ways – until one night in London. Or early one morning, really. It’s just after three, and while the others had dispersed to their rooms after they all bundled in from the pub, Bojan had decided to sit up for a while to work on the rest of the lyrics for their new song. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but the buzz of enthusiasm had long since dried up once the words pinging around his mind decided that they just didn’t want to go onto the page properly. All he had to show for the last couple of hours were pages of increasingly frustrated scribbles and crossings out. “You’re still up?” Bojan jolts at the sudden noise, head whipping up. Jure is in the doorway, dressed for bed and hair all over the place. He’s clearly just woken up. “I thought I heard something.” he explains before Bojan can muster a reply. He nods towards the pages that Bojan had already given up on, torn from his notebook and now crumpled up and scattered by his feet. “Not going so great, huh?” The sound Bojan heaves in response as he buries his head in his hands is somewhere between a groan and a sigh. Caught up in his own frustration, he doesn’t realise that Jure has crossed the room until he feels the couch dipping next to him and a hand wrapping around his, pulling it from his face. All of a sudden he’s aware of just how much his own hand hurts from scratching away with the pen for so long as Jure smoothes out his fingers, kneading at cramped tendons and aching muscles. But before he can say anything – a protest that he should really get on with these lyrics or a joke that Jure should open a massage business as a sideline – Jure brings his palm up and presses his lips to it gently. The touch is barely there but it lingers for a moment longer than a joke should and Bojan finds that any and all words die in his throat. This isn’t something either of them have ever done before, but Jure’s eyes are still locked with his, calm and almost challenging. And then the moment is over. Jure gives his hand one last squeeze but doesn’t let go as he stands.   “Come on. Come get some sleep. This can wait until actual morning.” It sounds so straightforward, so matter of fact, that all Bojan can do is nod and let him pull him to his feet. He’s right – there’ll be plenty of time later, and for now he’s got too many other questions on his mind to be able to concentrate.

#ana answers #fanfic #bojure

[somedaylazysomeday]

Good Intentions Part Twenty-One

You finally have to make good on your promise to Silco.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5,300

Warnings: Shifting morality, mentions of drugs, spit as lube, unprotected piv sex, double penetration (both kinds), anal fingering, creampie.

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

The first meeting of the Undercity Innovation Committee took place a little later than expected. 

The original meeting had been canceled, and the explanation Jazper had given you was that everyone wanted to wait until the other businesses were completed. The second meeting had been canceled as well. That time, it had been because the businesses that had opened were training their staff and focusing on the early days of their businesses. 

You had started to suspect that the Committee was nothing more than a dream, a hypothetical idea that would be pushed further and further off until it eventually faded. It wasn’t ideal, but the Committee itself wasn’t what mattered. You were overjoyed to see commercial businesses and properties move into the Lanes, and you didn’t care whether you got to be a part of their growth beyond watching it happen. 

The Undercity was changing; that much was undeniable. It had been well over a year since Silco had pulled Shimmer from the streets around the Haven, and there were noticeable changes. One of the biggest was the steady flow of recovered addicts flowing from the Haven to Stonesea and beyond. You rarely saw patients who relapsed - most of them seemed vehemently anti-Shimmer as soon as they were free of its grip. 

It typically took around six weeks for people to fully recover from the effects of Shimmer and examine the forces that had driven them toward the drug in the first place. When caught early enough, the physical effects of a Shimmer addiction were minimal. The psychological effects lasted far longer - feelings of powerlessness and frustrations at the limitations of a human body were common. But with help from the therapists and psychiatrists you kept on retainer, you often saw the average stay end after two months. 

The HexTech donations had been put to good use. You received a new check at the start of every month and you sent back summaries of the work you had done with the previous month’s money. 

One of the larger changes was that you were able to find a surgeon for the Haven. They didn’t perform surgeries in-house or take funding from the Haven, but they consulted with patients whose Shimmer addictions had left unwanted physical scars. The reminder that their permanent marks could be removed helped your patients’ mental state tremendously. 

Silco hadn’t mentioned joining the Undercity Innovation Committee since you had agreed to his terms. Your meetings with him had continued and neither of you brought up the HexTech donations. Silco hadn’t pushed any more donations on you, either. 

The slow and steady pattern of improvement had been interrupted when you received a note from Jazper. The first official meeting of the Undercity Innovation Committee was to happen a week from that day, barring any outstanding events. To your surprise, the meeting was not canceled as the previous two had been, and you soon found yourself in a room with the other five members of the Committee. 

Ronid was the one responsible for building a second apartment complex. They were building it from the ground up, drawing heavily from Jazper’s plans both for structure and intended operations. Ronid was the only member of the Committee whose business had yet to open, but they were eager to get started. They split their time between observing operations at Stonesea and training their own recently hired staff. 

Micah and Nimi were the couple who owned the grocery store. Micah - a round-faced, perpetually smiling man - was an expert cook who delighted in trying new recipes with local ingredients. The grocery store had been a small vacant building before the couple had started the renovations. They had an apartment on the top floor while the second story was taken up by a commercial kitchen. Micah offered cooking lessons for anyone who bought an unfamiliar food item and wanted to learn how to prepare it. He was filled with stories of strange and adventurous foods he had tried, and children delighted in listening to him. 

Nimi - a tall but muscular woman - was in charge of ordering new shipments of stock for the store. She had spent much of her early life working with different shipping companies, loading and delivering stock in Upper Piltover, and she had retained those connections. “A lot of them don’t recognize me anymore,” Nimi had explained with a laugh, “but they know I know where to get the best deals!” 

Cipanni was the last of the new business owners. She was short and stocky, but her small hands were incredibly skilled with repairs. She owned and operated the newly opened mechanic’s shop. Though the store had been open a relatively short time, she had started hiring employees and training them before the renovations had even started. Her mechanics were hired throughout Upper Piltover and the Undercity, performing the repairs they could and reporting any challenges back to her. Cipanni could often diagnose the problem without seeing it in person, then give advice on how to make the necessary repairs. 

They were a delightful group, and you were grateful to Jazper for letting you join the Committee, even though the Haven wasn’t a business. Other than the section about profit margins, you were able to follow along with or participate in the other parts of the meeting. 

“Well, that’s everything on the agenda,” Jazper summarized, glancing down at the paper he had been making notes on. “We should have more to discuss when the Rise opens.” 

“If the Rise opens,” Nimi muttered, tossing a teasing grin at Ronid. 

Ronid gaped theatrically, clasping a hand to their chest. “Well if the electrician would work a little faster…”

Cipanni splayed her hands helplessly. “Hey, I convinced Crow to wire the building and take on a few apprentices. I’m not going to ask him to work faster as well.” 

You beamed at that. Crow was a Piltover electrician, one whose work was highly in demand. Cipanni had convinced him to take on three of her shop’s employees who were interested in learning to do electrical work. Electricity was not Cipanni’s specialty, and she had insisted that they would be better off with Crow. For his part, Crow had been so impressed with the apprentices that he had agreed to two of their requests to come back to Upper Piltover to continue their apprenticeships. 

The third apprentice hadn’t asked yet, but there were good odds she would. Crow had already told Cipanni that he would accept her as well. 

“I’m surprised you’re not worried about anyone leaving your shop to start their own,” Micah said to Cipanni, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

Cipanni shrugged. “I wrote a clause into their employment contracts. If they leave my shop, they can’t start another shop in direct competition within a five block radius.”

“I thought we agreed on no non-compete clauses?” Jazper asked with a frown. 

“I know,” the mechanic admitted, rubbing guiltily at the space between her brows. “But, if it helps, I didn’t make one just to keep my business running. I did it because I want them to spread what they’ve learned, just not right next door. My hope is that they’ll start their own shops in other parts of the Undercity. Preferably with the same anti-Shimmer rules we all have in place.”

You watched Jazper closely. He had been on-edge lately - he was spending most of his time working on another apartment building in the Undercity. The construction site was near the Haven, but on the opposite side of the rest of the businesses. You loved the idea, and wanted to watch development spread, but it was clearly wearing on Jazper. He had his businesses in Upper Piltover along with Stonesea, and he was trying to help Rovid with the Rise whenever possible. He was spread thin, and it made him a little erratic. 

“That makes sense,” you decided, cutting through the tension in the room. Cipanni’s shoulders relaxed. “After all, we’re all here because we want to see the Undercity continue to change for the better. We want those changes to happen in other places than just the Lanes.” 

At last, Jazper nodded. “That brings me to our last topic of this meeting: we’ve had a request to join the Committee. It concerns all of us, so I want everyone to have a say. However, there is one person who gets to make the final decision.” 

Everyone glanced around curiously, but your stomach sank. You already knew exactly who wanted to join the Committee and why it could be a problem. 

“Silco has submitted an official request to join the Undercity Innovation Committee.” You had already known what was coming, but it still sent a pang through your chest. Jazper glanced at you before he continued. “He made the case that he runs a small business in the Undercity, contributes to the local economy, and employs two dozen people. He would be joining based on his ownership of The Last Drop, not because of any rumored ties to Shimmer.”

Loaded glances and murmured conversations filled the room, but Jazper’s gaze stayed firmly fixed on you. “If there are any objections, we will not allow him to join us.”

“If there isn’t any concrete evidence linking him to Shimmer production or distribution…” Micah mused, “it doesn’t seem like we have a choice.” 

“It might legitimize us to have a business owner who’s actually from the Undercity,” Ronid interjected. 

“And he’s a well-known name down here,” Cipanni agreed, folding her arms. 

“I don’t love the things I’ve heard about his business practices,” Nimi said with a foreboding frown. “But maybe we could influence him to treat his employees better if we let him join the Committee. I vote we let him in.” 

“And you?” Jazper asked softly. “We hear what we hear and know what we know, having worked in the Lanes as long as we have. And you’ve been here longer than me. What do you think about Silco’s request?”

You sighed, letting the sound dangle in the room for a moment. You had already made a deal with Silco about this very issue, but you longed to refuse, if for no other reason than that these people didn’t know what they were getting into with Silco. They all seemed like practical people - they might listen if you warned them about him.

But you didn’t. 

“He has brought jobs to the Undercity. Many jobs,” you added in a sulky mutter. “He probably does have a right to a seat on the Committee.”

Jazper continued to watch you for a long moment. When you didn’t add anything else, he gave a decisive nod. “Then it’s decided: we will allow Silco to join us at next quarter’s meeting.” 

It was strange, you reflected as you watched the room. The Undercity had a way of taking a toll on its residents, even when nothing had seemed to change. You and Jazper were the only ones who seemed to understand the momentousness of what had just happened - you held eye contact even as the other began to gather their belongings and leave Stonesea. 

Eventually, Ronid caught his attention with something else and Jazper looked away. The spell had been broken, but the implications echoed through your mind. Did Jazper know about you and Silco? Did Silco have some kind of leverage over Jazper? There was no way to know for certain on either count, but you were filled with an inexplicable sense that something had been lost when you failed to argue Silco’s entry into the Committee. 

But there was nothing for it. 

You rose, leaving Jazper and Ronid to their private chat in the near-empty room. You could feel Jazper watching as you left, but there was nothing to say. Nothing to do. Certainly nothing that could be said or done with Ronid in the room. 

The tangle of your thoughts kept you occupied on the short trip back to the Haven, but an odd tension reigned on the street in front of the building. That was enough to pull you back to yourself - the streets of the Lanes were never quiet. Children played and laughed, vendors hawked their wares, and there was usually at least one fight happening at any given time.

A single upward glance told you exactly what was going on: Silco was standing on the street in front of the Haven.

With his calf-length coat on and his hands clasped behind his back, Silco cut a lean and menacing figure. He looked mysterious and sharp, deadly as any blade. His Shimmer eye glowed in the gathering dusk, the orange pinpoint of its light visible from halfway down the block. 

There was a swath cut through the crowd, a half-moon of space that was almost comically wide. At least, it would have been comical if you felt the least bit like laughing. 

You walked up to the Haven’s doors, watching as Silco straightened at your approach. You didn’t have any way of knowing how he reacted when you moved past him without an acknowledgement. 

He called your name, referring to you by your title and last name, as if you were strangers. You would have appreciated the attempt at distancing himself if he hadn’t come to your outreach at the busiest time of day in full view of the entirety of the Lanes. 

“What do you need, Mr. Silco?” you responded, turning to face him at last. 

Silco’s mouth was set in a displeased line. “I need to speak with you. Privately.” 

“Now is not a good time.” You hauled the door open and tried to dart inside, but Silco’s arm barred the entrance at the last possible moment. 

“You may find endless trips across the entirety of Zaun to be ceaselessly entertaining,” Silco said loftily, “but I do not. Now may not be particularly convenient for either of us, but we will meet regardless.” 

He dropped his arm, you stepped inside, and he followed you in. 

“What is all of this-?” 

“Your office,” Silco interrupted. That seemed to be all of the explanation he was willing to offer, so you clenched your jaw and started for the privacy of your office. 

You rounded on him as soon as you finished closing the door behind you both. There was an ugly admonishment bubbling on the very tip of your tongue, but it disappeared in a cloud of confusion as Silco seized you by the shoulders. 

Instinctively, your muscles went taut as you braced for an attack of some kind. The proud smile on Silco’s lips was your first hint that things were not going quite as you had expected. 

“You did it, my clever little darling,” Silco congratulated warmly. “I received word that I am to join the Undercity Innovation Committee, and no one is the wiser about any connection between the two of us. You could not have accomplished the task in a more effective manner.”

“How-?” 

“And your manner outside of the Haven?” Silco continued, the lavish praise sounding simultaneously natural and utterly alien coming from him. “Perfection itself. The protesting philanthropist dreading a meeting from the chem baron she cannot stand, but agreeing anyway for sake of keeping the peace.” 

“What are-?” 

“I must confess that I am impressed,” Silco interrupted again. “And because of that, I have a special offer for you.”

You watched him sharply. Not just because of his newfound generosity, but to see if he was going to interrupt you a third time. He seemed to be waiting impatiently for your response, but you decided to keep things short just in case he was determined to drive you up the wall. “An offer.” 

“Yes, pet,” he confirmed. “We can have our meeting today. I know you enjoy being together in your office when possible, and I enjoy the confidence it gives you.” 

You narrowed your eyes. “Your offer is to let me have sex with you now that you’ve pushed your way into my office?”

“Precisely.” 

The scoff you gave held more laughter than you wanted it to, but it was only because of his daring. “And if I decide to pass?” 

Silco shrugged. “Then we will postpone our meeting until the original date. And, of course, you will have to come to the Last Drop and risk being seen.” 

You fought back a snarl. The Committee meeting had been a wonderful breath of fresh air until the reminder that you were connected with Silco. And now he was here, pushing for you to fulfill your payment early. Perhaps worst of all, his arguments made sense. 

“What do you get out of this?” you demanded. “Why move up the date?” 

Silco watched you steadily. “I believe in rewarding good behavior as soon as it happens. And your increased comfort here was a factor I considered.” 

Before you could answer, his brows furrowed and he took a slow step toward you. “If I didn't know better, pet, I would believe you don’t want to see me.” 

Was there actual hurt in his eyes? Surely not… You shook your head slowly, letting yourself look somewhere other than Silco. “It’s been a long day. It’s not that I don’t want to see you. It’s just… a surprise.”

“I understand that much,” Silco told you. “But I would think moving up our meeting could provide an excellent distraction.” 

“Sometimes, sex can’t distract you,” you countered with a shrug. 

Instantly, you knew it had been the wrong thing to say. Silco’s face took on a relishing sort of expression, like you had offered him an irresistible dare. And you may as well have. You were fully expecting the motion when he moved closer, especially since it left your bodies brushing each other’s. 

“Is that so, pet?” he murmured, close enough that you could feel the slight rumble of his velvety voice. 

“Silco,” you warned. At least, you had meant it to be a warning. It came out breathy, more an anticipatory exhalation than a stern reminder that he needed to behave. 

He leaned closer, delight filling his expression. “My original aim was to reward you, but perhaps you would be best rewarded by urging your thoughts away from your difficult day. Does that sound like a fair reward?” 

You nodded, mouth dry. Yes, you were still discomfited by the way Silco had managed to worm his way onto the Undercity Innovation Committee - not to mention the role you had played in his place on the Committee - but your body was crying out for a distraction. In your own defense, you rarely had him so close to you unless you were making a payment. It made sense that you had conditioned your libido to be ready for him. 

“Apologies, darling,” Silco said, sounding utterly unapologetic. “I couldn’t hear you.” 

When you tried to speak, a rasping croak was the only thing you could force out. 

Silco managed to force his expression into one of regretful confusion, but you could see the amusement glittering in his mismatched eyes. “I don’t understand.” 

You scowled, but Silco ducked and pressed his mouth to yours in a deep, searing kiss. When he pulled back, he was smirking openly. “I believe I now understand your opinion on my proposal. If you-” 

You interrupted him, grabbing fistfuls of his elegant jacket and towing him back down until you could kiss him again. Silco’s noise of surprise was muffled against your lips, but he responded eagerly. 

As desperate as your kiss got, Silco never walked you anywhere specific. You were just standing in the middle of your office, lost in each other’s kiss. It was an enjoyable way to pass the time, but you were confused when you finally pulled away and found him watching you expectantly. 

“Do you want to move this somewhere more… horizontal?” you asked. 

“Wherever you want, pet,” Silco agreed, eyes darkening. “So long as I get to decide what we do when we get there.” 

The prospect - along with the lethal promise in his voice - made you shiver and you led the way to the chaise lounge you kept in one corner.

You would die rather than admit it to him, but you had been influenced by Silco’s couch when you had chosen the chair. Not necessarily because you expected to spend time with him on it, but because it was convenient to have a comfortable place to sit or catch a quick nap if you were working long hours. 

And you especially wouldn’t tell Silco how the sturdiness of the chair’s frame had played a large part in your decision to purchase it. 

There was no point in subtlety, not when you had been ready for him for so long. You undressed quickly, spreading a dark throw blanket over the material. It was soft and plush, and you only hoped it would protect the lounge as well it kept you warm during your occasional office naps. In any case, a blanket was infinitely more washable than a chaise lounge, so you were willing to take the risk. 

By the time you tucked the ends of the blanket around the cushion of the lounge, Silco had undressed as well. He was fully bare, something that had been happening more and more often as your deal stretched on. The sight of his lean body was still enough to take your breath away, and you bit your lip to keep from making an embarrassing noise. 

“Lovely blanket,” Silco complimented. “Perhaps you should take a seat on it.” 

You did as he suggested, lowering yourself down until your hips and ass were cradled against the softness of the blanket. From that newly intensified angle, Silco looked even more imposing… all of him did. 

When you managed to pry your eyes from his hardening cock, Silco was smirking openly. You made a face at him, but you couldn’t be too irritated. He was just as stunned by your body and you knew how great that admiration was for your ego. How could you fault him for feeling the same way about your reaction?

Silco joined you on the lounge, crawling onto the seat with a dangerous grace that made your body tighten. Your reaction didn’t have a chance to ebb before he leaned up to capture your lips again. 

At the same time, he let his lower body drape across yours. Silco’s slender form was still heavy, certainly heavy enough to push your knees apart. In an instant, the hard length of him was pressed between your legs and you were lifting your hips to grind up against that pressure.

“Distracted enough already?” Silco asked, releasing your lips with a savoring lick across the full curve of your bottom lip. 

You pretended to think about that. “Not yet. Maybe with a little more…”

“Your wish is my command,” Silco assured you. When he leaned down again, he ducked toward your neck, fastening his lips against a particularly tender place. His hand crept between your hips, fingers finding their way unerringly toward your clit. 

In only a moment of that combination, your hips had jumped toward Silco so violently that he had to use his free hand to hold you against the chaise lounge. He stroked everything not currently pressed against his cock, and you were writhing as much as you could manage while being pinned down in so many places. 

“Silco,” you gasped at last, hands locking around his wrists. 

“Close, darling?” he asked, fingers slowing minutely. 

“Need you,” you panted, trying not to let out a desperate sob. “Inside.” 

Silco’s expression softened for a moment before he gave a determined nod. “Very well.” 

You weren’t entirely sure of the mechanics of what happened next. One moment, you were on your back with Silco on top of you. The next, he had wrapped both hands around your thighs, holding you against him. A moment later, you were on top of him, staring down with wild eyes as he held you poised on your knees. The very tip of him was pressed against your entrance, but he wasn’t letting you sink down yet. 

The whine that was ripped out of you didn’t hold a single word, but your point came across clearly enough. 

Silco’s hands loosened, releasing you instead of forcing you down onto him, but you seized the opportunity. The moment you could move, you sank onto his length, letting him fill you almost to the root in one decisive stroke. 

He arched beneath you, shoulders lifting from the surface of the bed in a combination of shock and pleasure. Your head fell back, leaving you staring at the ceiling of your office with a sense of overwhelming fullness wreaking havoc on your muscle control. It was only by happy accident that the twitching of your leg muscles left you sinking down more firmly onto Silco. 

When you managed to look down at him, Silco’s lips were parted, revealing flashes of chipped teeth behind them. His natural eye was heavy-lidded and his chest rose and fell quickly with the speed of his breathing. The expression on his face held too much to be easily deciphered, especially when you were distracted by other things, but it seemed to be made of mingled pride, possession, and adoration. 

If you had been thinking more clearly, that combination would have worried you. But with your focus on how good he felt inside of you, all you could think about was how good that expression looked on him. Instead of concern, you felt only need.  

It was enough to spur you onto your trembling muscles. You planted your knees more firmly to either side of Silco’s hips and lifted yourself slowly up from your seat. Your hands were splayed on his chest, helping you balance your weight as you experimented with finding the right angle. 

Silco shuddered with the feeling of his body leaving yours. You could relate, but your focus was firmly set on controlling your movements. 

You surged up and forward, lifting yourself almost free of him before slamming your hips back down. The drive of him up into you was breathtaking, and the impact left your fingers trembling against Silco’s chest. 

He clutched at your hips, a garbled word bursting from his parted lips, but the motion was its own reward. You started a steady, driving rhythm, thrusting Silco’s length into and out of you as quickly as you could manage without losing your balance. 

Silco’s hands were steadying your hips, but you noticed that one was creeping steadily around the back of you. The stroke against the top of one buttock could be normal, but when he started to work his way toward your rear entrance, you gave him a look. 

“If you’re going to do anything ass-related, you’ll have to figure out lubrication yourself,” you warned him. If you weren’t so distracted, you would have been embarrassed by your matter-of-fact tone when discussing such delicate matters. “I don’t keep lube in my office.” 

“You have quite a store nearby,” Silco wheedled, thrusting his hips upward slightly so you would be sure to know what he meant. “I only need you to pause for a moment.” 

You slammed yourself down, gasping even as you watched the way Silco’s lashes fluttered. “Do you really want me to stop? Because I don’t want to. Figure it out.” 

Silco’s natural eye narrowed. As you kept moving on top of him, he brought his hand to his mouth, sucking one finger between his lips. You watched his jaw muscles work, and the sight made your own mouth go dry.

When his hand disappeared around your body once more, you tensed with the expectation of being pierced with a finger that was only slick with spit, but Silco’s finger didn’t press against your rear. Instead, he waited until you were at the top of your stroke, then placed it alongside his own shaft. 

You didn’t realize what was happening until you had sank halfway down his length. The extra stretch provided by his finger made you cry out as the muscles in your body frantically worked to figure out whether the intrusion was a punishment or a reward. 

Pulling up and off of him was a longer process than usual. The way your core muscles were squeezing around him, you were almost shocked that you had managed to lift off of Silco at all. 

The man himself was smirking at you, clearly proud of himself. “Thank you, pet.” 

Then with a slight sense of pressure and a twist, his finger speared into you just as you lowered back down onto him. 

The stretch of being impaled in two places at once was intense. When you were finally fully settled on Silco’s lap, you squirmed as you tried to get used to the feeling. 

Silco gave a half-muffled groan. “The way you feel around me, darling… I could live here forever.” 

You couldn’t think clearly enough to do anything as ambitious as speak, but you were surprised at just how strongly you agreed with that. Whether you were determined to show him what you were feeling through ways other than speech or because your body demanded not to balance on that precipice any longer, you started to move. 

You worked up and down on Silco’s length, your inner muscles working over him as you went. Silco’s hand - minus a single finger - gripped your ass as you rose and fell, feeling the muscle bunch and release with your movements. His finger stayed buried inside of you as you went, an ever-present reminder that you had been fully claimed by him. 

With everything going on, you couldn’t be surprised when you felt your orgasm approaching quickly. Your hands clenched against Silco’s chest and your rhythm started to falter. In only moments, you had slowed to the point that you were hardly moving. 

“Up, pet,” Silco ordered, hissing the command through bared teeth. 

You stared blearily down at him and his free hand anchored on your hip, pushing you up to full extension on your knees. The tip of him was barely inside of you, but your orgasm was so close that it was nearly inevitable.

Silco started thrusting up from under you. His cock drove in and out of you, your breath stuttering with every harsh punctuation of his hips. Your head tipped back again, but your view of the ceiling was interrupted when Silco grabbed your chin, pulling your gaze down to meet his. 

With your eyes locked, you both came. 

Simultaneous orgasms were rare, so much so that you had largely considered them to be a myth, or used to show the perfection of a couple in a romance novel. But this one felt almost like a death knell. Coming at the same time with your eyes staring into each other’s soul? It felt like you were binding yourself to Silco, in a way somehow more permanent than your deal or your slow softening toward him had done. 

The pulsing of him matched the throbbing of you… or perhaps vice versa. By the time your orgasm drew to a close, you weren’t entirely sure where you ended and he began. Your elbows trembled and Silco welcomed your gentle collapse onto his chest with a pleased hum. 

The slide of his finger from your ass made you squirm, as did the pull of his cock from the depths of your core. His cum followed in a thick rush, but neither of you moved. 

There would be time enough to face reality later. Just then, you wanted to live in that moment a little longer.

---

Author's Note - I'm so excited! I'm working a few chapters ahead and things are really starting to wrap up. I think this story will end up around 30 chapters long and I love how things are turning out. I hope you'll feel the same way.

Thanks for reading and I'll see you next month!

#good intentions #good intentions fic #arcane netflix #arcane silco #silco #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fic #silco x reader #silco x fem!reader #silco x you #spicy #lemon #not suitable for minors #minors dni

[transgenderer]

israeli abortion law is kind of weird:

Under a 1977 abortion law, a termination committee can approve an abortion, under sub-section 316a,[10] in the following circumstances:

The woman is younger than the legal marriage age in Israel (which currently is 18, raised from 17 in April 2013),[12] or older than forty. (This was later amended to also include women under the age of twenty.)[11]

The pregnancy was conceived under illegal circumstances (rape, statutory rape, etc.), in an incestuous relationship, or outside of marriage.

The fetus may have a physical or mental birth defect.

Continued pregnancy may put the woman's life in risk, or damage her physically or mentally.

In practice, most requests for abortion that qualify for the above are granted, and leniency is shown especially under the clause for emotional or psychological damage to the pregnant woman. The committees approve 98% of requests.[15]

this part says its very lenient, but...

It was reported in 2012 that about half of all abortions in Israel were performed in private clinics, i.e., without committee approval. Women who undergo such an abortion do not face criminal penalties, but physicians who perform them face a fine, or up to five years' imprisonment; however, there have been no known prosecutions of physicians for performing non-committee-approved abortions.[9]

so presumably a lot of women know theyll be rejected and so dont bother applying

allowing it in the case of unmarried women seems really odd to me, from like...an ethical behavior. either abortion is murder, in which case its definitely not okay in the case of an unmarried woman, or its not murder, in which case its obviously fine for a married couple.

[todaysdocument]

A bill for the relief of Oklahoma settlers--Sooners--many of whose titles to homestead entries had been questioned and a "Statement of the Case" of the Oklahoma settlers

Record Group 46: Records of the U.S. SenateSeries: Committee Papers of the Committee on Public Lands and Committee on Public Lands and SurveysFile Unit: Committee Papers of the Senate Committee on Public Lands from the 53rd Congress

53D CONGRESS, 2D SESSION S. 2038. IN THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES. MAY 21, 1894. Mr. COCKRELL (by request) introduced the following bill; which was read twice and referred to the Committee on Public Lands. A BILL For the relief of Oklahoma settlers. 1 Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representa- 2 tives of the United States of America in Congress assembled, 3 That every person who made a homestead entry in Oklahoma 4 Territory under the President's proclamation of March twenty- 5 third, eighteen hundred and eighty-nine, and who has ever 6 since resided upon and improved the same, and who now so 7 resides thereon, shall be entitled to a patent to said home- 8 stead upon making the proof usually required in homestead 9 cases, unless it shall be made to appear by a preponderance 10 of evidence that he willfully entered upon and occupied said 11 homestead prior to noon of April twenty-second, eighteen 12 hundred and eighty-nine, with the intent to violate the law 13 and the proclamation. STATEMENT OF THE CASE. On the 23rd day of March 1889. Mr. Harrison, who was then President of the United States, issued his Proclamation, announcing, that the lands of what is now known, as Oklahoma proper, would be thrown open to public settlement, at 12 O'clock M. on the 22nd day of the April. Following. Being in pursuit of homes, for ourselves, and families, we in common with thousands, of other citizens, in order to be within reach, when the time should arrive, moved to, the line of the Terri- tory, and went into Camp, at different points, as close as possible but outside of the line. While so in Camp near the line, and after the proclamation had been issued, and before the arrival of the day for the opening, we in common, with hundreds of others, (in fact), we may say, every one, made daily incursions over the Territory, looking at the Country, and gathering what information we could, of it; from observation. After the arrival of the day and hour designated for the opening, we starting from the lines, joined the great throng, in the race for a homestead, and finding such quarter section as suited us proceded [sic] to establish our residences thereon, and after filing the usual and proper homestead papers - in the proper offices entered at once upon the task of building our homes, and improving our farms, and have been on them, ever since. (Now Five Years). Another class of these Citizens were such as were already within the Territory, and in many cases, had been there for some years be- fore. They were either employees of the Government or of the Santee Fee R. R. CO., mostly however, the former, very few of the latter. Serving as Post Masters- or Deputy U. S. Marshals, some of them under contract to get wood for the use of the Military Posts others under -1- [full document and transcription at link]

#archivesgov #may 21 #1894 #19th century #oklahoma #sooners #homestead act

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 6 February 1919, perhaps the most spectacular strike in US history took place: the Seattle general strike. Nearly 100,000 downed tools in support of striking shipyard workers but, more importantly, then elected a general strike committee and began running the city and essential services themselves. While the shipyard workers did not get their pay increase, the five-day general strike was a historic and successful experiment demonstrating that workers could run society ourselves. After the strike ended, the newspaper of the Central Labor Council, the Union Record, explained its importance: "We see but one way out. In place of two classes competing for the fruits of industry, there must be, eventually only one class sharing fairly the good things of the world. And this can only be done by the workers learning to manage. "When we saw in our General Strike: The Milk Wagon Drivers consulting late into the night over the task of supplying milk for the city’s babies; The Provision Trades working twenty-four hours out of the twenty-four on the question of feeding 30,000 workers; The Barbers planning a chain of co-operative barber shops; The steamfitters opening a profitless grocery store; The Labor Guards facing, under severe provocation, the task of maintaining order by a new and kinder method; When we saw union after union submitting its cherished desires to the will of the General Strike Committee: then we rejoiced. For we knew it was worth the four or five days pay apiece to get this education in the problems of management. Whatever strength we found in ourselves, and whatever weakness, we knew we were learning the thing which it is necessary for us to know. "Someday, when the workers have learned to manage, they will begin managing. And we, the workers of Seattle, have seen, in the midst of our General Strike, vaguely and across the storm, a glimpse of what the fellowship of that new day shall be." https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.296224173896073/2203657846486020/?type=3

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Joe Lopez, assistant chef at the Paramount Hotel, serving Thanksgiving turkey to servicemen in 1941. Twenty-five soldiers and sailors dined free through the cooperation of the NYC Defense Recreation Committee.

Photo: Matty Zimmerman for the AP

#vintage New York #1940s #Matty Zimmerman #Thanksgiving #vintage Thanksgiving #World War II #wartime Thanksgiving #Thanksgiving dinner #Paramount Hotel

[ishipallthings]

Cap-IM Rec Week 2023 (Tues)

It's About the Yearning Tuesday, July 18 for @cap-ironman Rec Week!

Today I'm reccing fics based on my favorite trope of all time - pining 💜

Remember to show some love for your hard-working creators!

take my heart clean apart by mistymountainking @stovetuna

Tony comes home exhausted after an SI event. Steve acts as welcoming committee. It's an old, careworn routine they've perfected over the years, but tonight ends up going in a very different direction.

Take A Number by 51stCenturyFox

So what if Tony Stark is sleeping with everybody else (except him)? Why would Steve care? He doesn’t even like Tony, and certainly not like that...

for you I’ll pretend (to fake it) by AvengersNewB @avengersnewb, Lacerta

Steve doesn't think twice when he agrees to help Tony out, even if it kills him inside to attend a gala as Tony's fake date. Tony doesn't know if he can keep up the pretense on this evening out as friends but it's as close as he can get to an actual date, so he takes it. Things don't go as planned though, with all the pining, the pent-up feelings, and bumping into Tony's horrible, obnoxious ex, Ty Stone.

Can't Write One Song (That's Not About You) by FestiveFerret @festiveferret

Ten years ago, Tony fell in love with his roommate: funny, handsome, kind, smart Steve Rogers, who also happened to be the lead singer and guitarist of a band, The Howlies. Then The Howlies made it big, Steve moved away, and Tony vowed to avoid any mention of the band, their songs, and the man he missed his chance with. But chance has a way of giving you exactly what you need, even if you don't know it yet...

you'll be mine and i'll be yours by complicationstoo @ifmywishescametrue

Five words ruin Tony's life. “He doesn't love me back,” Steve says, and Tony feels his world crumble to pieces at his feet. Steve loves someone, and Tony knows it isn't him.

in my head by brucewaynery

Tony tells Steve about solipsism, the theory that everything is merely a figment of your own imagination, and Steve lets something slip.

ignorance is (not) bliss by earliebirb @earliebirb

One of Tony’s hands shoots up to grab his wrist, gripping it tightly. Slowly, Tony opens his eyes. Steve’s blood freezes in his veins. His heart sinks with dread.  “Tony?” Steve hopes that this is just some weird bout of sleepwalking, but Tony doesn’t sleepwalk, and from the thoughtful way Tony regards him, Steve knows that Tony is somehow very much awake, which means— Tony swallows, his eyes wide and alert in a way Steve didn’t think they were capable of being twenty minutes ago.  “Steve,” he says, the single word carrying too much weight.

now I worship a celestial sun by haemodye (616)

A mostly-comedic farce involving: 1 obedience spell, 2 pining Avengers, 1 long-suffering Sorcerer Supreme, and 1 single, extravagant Saint Patrick's Day float.

Not a Perfect Man by Neverever @captainneverever (616)

Steve and Tony are back on track as friends and spending a lot of time together as they form a new Avengers team. But Steve is again in a rocky relationship with Sharon and Tony is dating a new woman. Steve struggles as his long-dormant crush on Tony comes back with a vengeance because he's supposed to be a good man and he doesn't want to lose Tony as a friend. What is he supposed to do as a friend when Tony's new girlfriend turns out to be not good for Tony?

The Culling of the Stars by dirigibleplumbing @dirigibleplumbing (616)

Tony dies saving Steve's life on the courthouse steps. Now Steve is left with the fallout of their Civil War, expected to take charge and preserve Tony's legacy. He doesn't know how he can do it alone—not when he can't stop thinking about Tony, or keep track of the days, or even feel.

What Was It You Wanted by sheron @sheronm

"C'mon, a kiss from Captain America is not so terrible." According to the alien custom, Steve had to kiss each teammate on the mouth, and some kisses come with more aftermath than others.

Down in Lonesome Town by resurrectedhippo

“Why do I always find my way back to you?” Maybe Tony didn’t necessarily return to Steve, but fate is a funny little thing, and after living a life of loss, Steve wants something that’s his to keep. After the universe is restored, Steve is lost without any direction. Retiring from the Avengers, he moves across the country and ends up building a house by a misty blue lake. Across the bridge is Tony Stark’s new workshop.

Hope you guys enjoy the recs, and stay tuned for more! Please mind the tags before reading. Check out my tag for previous years’ rec lists :)

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #steve x tony #capimrecweek #my rec lists #fic rec #pining #hope you guys like this! #it was iNSANELY hard to limit this to 12 fics

[mishapocalyse]

hii!!¡ ✨so i hav an idea for a request!!¡ and it just came 2 me but yegh I wud love if u cud do a lil sumthin wiv female reader wher ur at the fairground? mayb tryin rlly hard 2 win a game so u can get a huuge teddy n who else shud come along but soldier boy himself n he wins it 4 u n ofc ur starstruck!!🤩🧸✨ idk mayb he's ther 4 publicity prob but do whatever i luv ur writing so hav fun n run wiv it lol💕🍭 tysm bby!!✨υ´♡⁠ ﻌ ♡⁠`⑅υ

Three in a Row and You Can Get The Girl

Description: You wanted that giant teddy bear and you were not going to leave the fairground until it was yours. It really helped when America's masked crusader comes to your aid.

Pairings: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Soldier Boy is his own warning, language. Sweet, toothache cuteness

Note: This request is another fave and I love it so much. My heart yearns for sweet Soldier Boy. Also to add--some do not understand the idea of fan fiction and how you can ultimately change a bit of the character's personality to your liking. That is the entire idea of fan fiction. Yes I know Soldier Boy is as a whole-a butt, and is overall written as a terrible person. However, I like to think that in the presence of women- from what I have seen from small parts of the show, he had some potential to be super sweet to women.

Also...I can do what I want.

"Ah, I'm sorry pretty lady, but you need about five more wins if you're wanting the 62" teddy." The service worker at the ring toss stand politely told you, as you deflated, a bit disappointed.

You stepped to the side not wanting to get in the way of others, but you were seriously eyeing that teddy for yourself.

You had come to the fairgrounds alone since your date had stood you up for the third time this week.

You didn't care though. You only knew the guy a few months.

Besides, you were at the fair, having fun. Riding rides, eating the amazing food from some of the vendors, and playing the games with such confidence that probably by the end of the night you will win that huge teddy.

Hopefully.

"Wanna try again? " The service work from the ring toss said.

You thought about it for a second before nodding and putting away the container of food you had gotten earlier. Stepping up to the plate, you readied yourself for yet another round of ring toss.

-------

Soldier Boy huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"We are so sorry that this happened. We had no idea that Homelander would be here. He didn't even book a venue-" The super soldier held up a hand to his PR committee.

"Shut up-just shut the fuck up. Christ on a cross, I need a fucking minute." With that, he stumbled out of the tent and out towards the rest of the fair.

It was supposed to be his publicity "Welcome Back" stunt, but the caped dickhole had to come and ruin it. Soldier Boy grumbled as he walked around, trying his best to collect his thoughts before he did something stupid. Rounding a corner, he stumbled into the rows of games.

"Ah, you almost got it honey! I'll let you try one more time for free okay?" Soldier boy heard loud and clear.

Then his eyes landed on you.

You were leaning forward trying to throw the rings on the bottles in front of you. You would get a couple and lose on the last throw. It was always the last throw with those things.

"Sorry sweetheart. You played a good game! Maybe next time you'll win the big guy. I mean, you could get it in a different way- if you know what I mean" You smiled sweetly in return until he had said that last part and you immediately frowned.

Soldier Boy didn't know what he was doing, but before he know it he had walked right up to the stand and wrapped his arm around you instinctively.

"Howdy there darlin'. Been looking everywhere for you. Which one are you trying to get?" They way you stared at him made him feel a different type of way. The service worker stumbled over his words while Soldier Boy placed a twenty dollar bill onto the counter.

"I got you, Princess." he says as you continued to rack your brain around what had occurred.

---

"Uh, good game...sir." Soldier Boy plucked the giant bear off of the hook and held it towards you. You grinned as you hugged it.

"I'm taking both of these--show some goddamn respect to the ladies. Get fucked." Soldier Boy said as he plucked another bear off of another hook to carry and to give to you later.

You had thanked him profusely and stumbled over your words. You told him he did not have to do any of that.

"I wanted to. Saw the way you looked when you tried your hardest to win that stuffed animal."

"It was pathetic." You finished his statement with a laugh.

He chuckled along with you.

"Not exactly. Thought it was mighty cute if I'm being honest." He reached over to pat your head.

"Hey! Soldier Boy! We need you for photo-op! Where the hell have you been?" The two of you looked at each other, before Soldier shook his head.

"I have to get going. Mind taking my place with the other big guy?" He asked holding out the similarly fashioned teddy bear.

You nodded quickly as you reached out to grab the bear from his hands.

"What was your name again?" He questioned, not yet letting go of the bear in his hand.

"Oh, I never told you my name, It's Y/N. Y/N L/N. You?" A spark in eyes appears as he lets go.

"The hero name is Soldier Boy, you probably already knew that. But you can call me Ben, Princess." Smiling a goofy smile you shake your head and wave your goodbyes. Turning, you could hear him call after you.

"Meet me at the concession stands near the Funhouse later! Wanna' win some more things for ya'." You gave him a thumbs up, as you finally decided that maybe, just maybe, getting stood up was not such a bad thing to happen as you had thought.

#soldier boy #soldier boy the boys #jensen ackles #jensen ackled #askmishapoc #answered #the boys #the boys soldier boy #the boys season 3 #homelander #mishapocalypse

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Today, President Joe Biden signed the continuing resolution that will give lawmakers another week to finalize appropriations bills. Lawmakers will continue to hash out the legislation that will fund the government. 

Republicans have been stalling the appropriations bills for months. In addition to inserting their own extremist cultural demands in the measures, they have demanded budget cuts to address the fact that the government spends far more money than it brings in. 

As soon as Mike Johnson (R-LA) became House speaker, he called for a “debt commission” to address the growing budget deficit. This struck fear into the hearts of those eager to protect Social Security and Medicare, because when Johnson chaired the far-right Republican Study Committee in 2020, it called for cutting those popular programs by raising the age of eligibility, lowering cost-of-living adjustments, and reducing benefits for retirees whose annual income is higher than $85,000. Lawmakers don’t want to take on such unpopular proposals, so setting up a commission might be a workaround.

Last month, the House Budget Committee advanced legislation that would create such a commission. The chair of the House Budget Committee, Jodey C. Arrington (R-TX), told reporters that Speaker Johnson was “100% committed to this commission” and wanted to attach it to the final appropriations legislation for fiscal year 2024, the laws currently being hammered out.

Congress has not yet agreed to this proposed commission, and a recent Data for Progress poll showed that 70% of voters reject the idea of it. 

This week, a new report from the Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy (ITEP), a nonprofit think tank that focuses on tax policy, suggested that the cost of tax cuts should be factored into any discussions about the budget deficit. 

In 2017 the Trump tax cuts slashed the top corporate tax rate from 35% to 21% and reined in taxation for foreign profits. The ITEP report looked at the first five years the law was in effect. It concluded that in that time, most profitable corporations paid “considerably less” than 21% because of loopholes and special breaks the law either left in place or introduced. 

From 2018 through 2022, 342 companies in the study paid an average effective income tax rate of just 14.1%. Nearly a quarter of those companies—87 of them—paid effective tax rates of under 10%. Fifty-five of them (16% of the 342 companies), including T-Mobile, DISH Network, Netflix, General Motors, AT&T, Bank of America, Citigroup, FedEx, Molson Coors, and Nike, paid effective tax rates of less than 5%.

Twenty-three corporations, all of them profitable, paid no federal tax over the five year period. One hundred and nine corporations paid no federal tax in at least one of the five years. 

The Guardian’s Adam Lowenstein noted yesterday that several corporations that paid the lowest taxes are steered by chief executive officers who are leading advocates of “stakeholder capitalism.” This concept revises the idea that corporations should focus on the best interests of their shareholders to argue that corporations must also take care of the workers, suppliers, consumers, and communities affected by the corporation. 

The idea that corporate leaders should take responsibility for the community rather than paying taxes to the government so the community can take care of itself is eerily reminiscent of the argument of late-nineteenth-century industrialists. 

When Republicans invented national taxation to meet the extraordinary needs of the Civil War, they immediately instituted a progressive federal income tax because, as Representative Justin Smith Morrill (R-VT) said, “The weight [of taxation] must be distributed equally, not upon each man an equal amount, but a tax proportionate to his ability to pay.” 

But the wartime income tax expired in 1872, and the rise of industry made a few men spectacularly wealthy. Quickly, those men came to believe they, rather than the government, should direct the country’s development. 

In June 1889, steel magnate Andrew Carnegie published what became known as the “Gospel of Wealth” in the popular magazine North American Review. Carnegie explained that “great inequality…[and]...the concentration of business, industrial and commercial, in the hands of a few” were “not only beneficial, but essential to…future progress.” And, Carnegie asked, “What is the proper mode of administering wealth after the laws upon which civilization is founded have thrown it into the hands of the few?”

Rather than paying higher wages or contributing to a social safety net—which would “encourage the slothful, the drunken, the unworthy,” Carnegie wrote—the man of fortune should “consider all surplus revenues which come to him simply as trust funds, which he is called upon to administer…in the manner which, in his judgment, is best calculated to produce the most beneficial results for the community—the man of wealth thus becoming the mere trustee and agent for his poorer brethren, bringing to their service his superior wisdom, experience, and ability to administer, doing for them better than they would or could do for themselves.”  

“[T]his wealth, passing through the hands of the few, can be made a much more potent force for the elevation of our race than if distributed in small sums to the people themselves,” Carnegie wrote. “Even the poorest can be made to see this, and to agree that great sums gathered by some of their fellow-citizens and spent for public purposes, from which the masses reap the principal benefit, are more valuable to them than if scattered among themselves in trifling amounts through the course of many years.”

Here in the present, Republicans want to extend the Trump tax cuts after their scheduled end in 2025, a plan that would cost $4 trillion over a decade even without the deeper cuts to the corporate tax rate Trump has called for if he is reelected. Biden has called for preserving the 2017 tax cuts only for those who make less than $400,000 a year and permitting the rest to expire. He has also called for higher taxes on the wealthy and corporations, which would generate more than $2 trillion. 

Losing the revenue part of the budget equation and focusing only on spending cuts seems to reflect a society like the one the late-nineteenth-century industrialists embraced, in which a few wealthy leaders get to decide how to direct the nation’s wealth.   

[LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN: MARCH 1, 2024]

Heather Cox Richardson

+

“The crucial disadvantage of aggression, competitiveness, and skepticism as national characteristics is that these qualities cannot be turned off at five o'clock.” —Margaret Halsey, novelist (13 Feb 1910-1997)

#poverty #trickle down economics #corrupt GOP #Letters From An American #heather cox richardson #ecoomy #wealth #“debt commission” #corporations #Margaret Halsey #government for the people

[narrans]

A Tall and Small Collection | S2 |

It has been some time since Ashlynn has seen her Borrower companions - Soren, Dorian, and Rey. Why did she leave? Will she come back? What will have changed? Soren has been living with his brothers in the same old apartment for years, even after Ashlynn left that day. So much has changed. How is she doing? Will they see her again? Read and find out.

Chapter One | Snippet/Tease

Chapter Two | One Word

Chapter Three | Recognition

Chapter Four | Reunited

Chapter Five | She's Back

Chapter Six | Soren

Chapter Seven | Last Night Home

Chapter Eight | Good Bunny

Chapter Nine | Moving into the Unknown

Chapter Ten | Welcoming Committee

Chapter Eleven | Is Honesty the Best Policy?

Chapter Twelve | Tense

Chapter Thirteen | Baby Sitting

Chapter Fourteen | Settling In

Chapter Fifteen | Dorian's Small Forte

Chapter Sixteen | ... Have You Been?

Chapter Seventeen | Feeling Loopy

Chapter Eighteen | Dorian's Lament

Chapter Nineteen | Unspoken Confession

Chapter Twenty | An Unexpected Guest

Chapter Twenty-One | Confronted on the Countertop

Chapter Twenty-Two | Afraid to Catch Feels

Chapter Twenty-Three | Making A Musician

Chapter Twenty-Four | Sick Day

Chapter Twenty-Five | Recovery and Discovery

Chapter Twenty-Six | Ambushed

Chapter Twenty-Seven | Confessions to the (Un)Conscious

Chapter Twenty-Eight | Worth the Wait

Chapter Twenty-Nine | Forward Together

Chapter Thirty | Cloud Watching and Admissions

Chapter Thirty-One | Mailroom Promises

Chapter Thirty-Two | From Fun to Fright

Chapter Thirty-Three | A Jarring Night

Chapter Thirty-Four | Music and the Prelude

Chapter Thirty-Five | Saving Our Hero pt. 1

Chapter Thirty-Six | Saving Our Hero pt. 2

Chapter Thirty-Seven | Saving Our Hero pt. 3

Chapter Thirty-Eight | Harrowing Heroism

Chapter Thirty-Nine | A Little Theo-ry

Chapter Forty | Inventors Exchange

Chapter Forty-One | Field Trips and Feelings

Chapter Forty-Two | True Colors Revealed pt. 1

Chapter Forty-Three | True Colors Revealed pt. 2

Chapter Forty-Four | True Colors Revealed pt. 3

Chapter Forty-Five | True Colors Revealed pt. 4

Chapter Forty-Six | True Colors Revealed pt. 5 (FINALE)

Chapter Forty-Seven | Epilogue

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

One-Shots An A-Mayzie Christmas Wish

#borrower #g/t #g/t community #borrowers #giant/tiny #handheld #giant tiny #tiny #giant #gianttiny #A Tall and Small Collection #Season Two #Season 2 #g/t fluff #g/t writing #size difference #micro/macro #g/t scenario #g/t sfw #g/t story #g/t author #g/t angst #g/t concept #g/t comfort #g/t characters #found family #love #The borrowers #gt community #gt

[fanficimagery]

Hello, Welcome Home

When you left Charming all those years ago, you never thought you'd ever be going back. But the Chambers of Commerce reached out, asking if you'd perform for a new festival they were putting on. You were always a sucker for a good festival, especially if there was a carnival involved, and you couldn't say no. Especially since you were hit with a sudden wave of nostalgia and wanted to see a few faces you had left behind.

Words: 7.2K Author's Note: SOA AU! Again, no Clay. Sorry for those who love the man. Reader is also of Spanish descent.

Jax is sitting at the bar, nursing a beer after working a shift in the garage. Ever since he'd taken up the gavel, he'd worked hard to bring peace between the MC's in California, Oregon, Nevada, and Arizona. It took several grueling months of arguments and transfers of power to get it done, but eventually everyone else started to want a bit of peace for themselves. There was still plenty of illegal activity going on, but everyone was less hostile if another MC was rolling through their turf so long as they called ahead to let them know.

Nearly done with his beer, Jax's phone rings and he slides it out of his pocket. He checks the name before flipping it open to answer. "Bishop," he greets. "What's going on, brother?"

"Hola, presidente. I got a favor to ask."

"Sure. You guys runnin' some guns through or what?"

"Not that type of favor, compañero. It's actually about the festival Charming is putting on next week."

"Oh yeah? You guys heard about that down in Santo Padre?" He chugs the last of his beer, gesturing for the prospect to grab him another. "My ma's on the committee that's helping out. Everyone's losing their goddamn minds over it."

Bishop chuckles down the line. "I'm pretty sure it's the concert line-up because that's what I'm calling about. Coco's daughter Letty is obsessed with one singer that's going to perform and she would rather pay the thirty-five-dollar entrance fee to see her perform than spend hundreds of dollars on a ticket for an actual concert."

"Ah. Got it," Jax says. "You're calling ahead to see if it's alright to roll up."

"Si."

"Yeah, brother, I don't see any issue with it. We're all gonna be out there as well. My ma's pumped about one of the entertainers too."

Bishop chuckles. "We're gonna scare all your locals, presidente, with so many kuttes walking around."

It's Jax's turn to chuckle. "Nah. We'll be fine. The locals here know what's up. We keep the streets clean and their kids safe. We're fuckin' kings up here."

Bishop and Jax share another laugh before hammering out the details of who'll be making the drive up to Charming for the festival.

The festival that Charming is putting on is anything unlike Jax has ever seen. It's a four-day festival and so far, they've witnessed two of those days. The first day garnered a good size crowd since the entrance fee was free, and a twenty-dollar wristband gave unlimited access to the rides. The second day had a fifteen-dollar entrance fee since the concerts started at noon and lasted up until midnight, and all rides were a dollar each. There were numerous games, arts and crafts vendors, and food booths- food of all kinds that left the entire festival area smelling unlike the Sons had smelled before.

Now it's the third day and the entrance fee has jumped to thirty-five dollars since the entertainment was more well-known than the previous day's entertainment. Today also happens to be the day of the concert that the Mayans were rolling into town for. So, after spending some time with Tara and Thomas, watching Abel get on a few kiddie rides, Jax leads them over to the main stage towards the back of the festival grounds where the concert is to take place.

When he and Tara get to the stage, their eyes widen at the size of the crowd that this performer has garnered. He's about to lead her and his kids to a set of bleachers at the back of the crowd, not willing to risk pushing his way through so many people, when Gemma catches sight of them.

"Heya, Jackson. These are for you." Gemma hands him four neon orange wristbands that are stamped with the letters VIP.

"VIP?" Tara arches an eyebrow at her mother-in-law. "How'd you score these?"

"The performer is YN YLN." She smirks as Jax's eyes widen.

"No shit?"

"Shit." Gemma smirks before she takes in her daughter-in-law's pinched expression, Tara having been filled in about Jax's girl after she had left for college, and then rolls her eyes before slinging an arm around Tara's shoulders. "Don't be like that. YN knows all about you and Jax, and she's happy for you. She actually wants to meet up after she's done."

"You promise you won't stir shit up?" He asks his ma.

"I promise, baby." She smiles, eyes sparkling. "Everyone's all grown up now and she really does just want to catch up. You weren't her only friend here in Charming, you know."

"Yeah, I know. Just didn't think I'd ever see her again. I broke her heart." Jax winces as he recalls said breakup.

"Breaking her heart was the best thing you did for that girl, Jackson. She got out of Charming and made it big in the music industry." Jax slowly smiles then, realizing his mother is right. "Now I gotta go find some Mayans to give them their bracelets. Opie and Juice are already in the VIP section."

Jax chuckles and waves his mother off, he and Tara then putting the bracelets on their kids before helping each other put their own on.

Gemma walks around for twenty minutes before spotting more kuttes in the crowd, smirking as she approaches them. "What are you guys doing way back here?" The three Mayans and the girl all glance at her, one of them tugging the girl a little behind him. Gemma mentally rolls her eyes at that. "Relax. I'm Jax Teller's mother." They seem to relax at that. "My son tells me the girl is a fan of the next performer. I figured you'd wanna be as close as possible."

"Gemma, right?" One man asks. She nods. "I'm Angel, this is EZ, Coco and Letty." She smiles at each of them.

EZ sheepishly rubs the back of his head. "We got here a bit late. Didn't think the crowd would be this big."

Gemma huffs. "You and me both." She glances around the crowd, shaking her head. Then facing the Mayans, she reaches into her back pocket while pulling out more VIP bracelets. "It's a good thing I have these then."

Letty pushes past her father's protective stance, causing Gemma, Angel and EZ to laugh while Coco glares at his daughter. "Are those- are these for us?!"

"'Course, baby. Now come on. Let's see that dainty wrist of yours."

Gemma helps Letty put her bracelet on while passing out the other three to the men.

"How the hell did you swing this?" Coco asks once Gemma's leading them towards the front of the stage, flashing her bracelet smugly to the security guard on shift.

"Believe it or not, YN and Jax used to date."

"The president of the Sons?" Letty asks. "No way!"

"Yes way. She actually grew up here in Charming, you know," Gemma tells her. "Friends with Jax and Opie. Dated Jax when she was nineteen and then left after she turned twenty. I kept in touch with her even though my son broke her heart and she gave me VIP bracelets to pass around as I saw fit."

In front of the stage, the Sons of Anarchy and the Mayans greet each other like brothers that haven't seen each other in a while. Coco introduces his daughter Letty to everyone as Jax introduces his wife Tara to them as well. Abel and Thomas have been outfitted with noise cancellation headphones since they're so close to the stage and speakers, and Opie's doing his best to calm down Juice who is apparently a fan of YN's as well.

In the time that they wait for the mini concert to begin, Letty and Juice bond over their love of YN's music and their awe over the fact that Jax dated her when they were teenagers. And though Tara was uncomfortable in the beginning knowing her husband's ex was the performer they were all waiting for, she couldn't help but find amusement in their situation. Hopefully Gemma wasn't playing them and there was no drama at the end of the night.

The lights on stage suddenly dim and the crowd cheers in anticipation, Letty and Juice included, which makes the other bikers chuckle in amusement. They can see several people taking the stage, settling down behind instruments or taking up a spot behind mic stands to sing backup.

The music suddenly starts, the crowd goes wild, and a lone figure takes center stage. As soon as the first word is spoken, the lights come on full force. "Take a hit, shoot me down, shoot me down. I will never hit the ground, hit the ground. Playing dead, I'll never do. Gotta keep an eye on you."

YN walks to the front of the stage, singing as lights pulse along to the beat behind her. As Jax takes her in, he can't help but realize that she really did grow up. She looks completely at home on stage, letting the crowd amp her up. She grins as she steps up on a long rectangular speaker, voice getting a little louder as she grins behind the mic in her hand.

"Oh, won't wave my white flag, no. This time I won't let go. I'd rather die than give up the fight, give up the fight, give up the fight, give up the fight!"

Jax is surprised that the crowd behind his back sings along, YN feeding off the energy of the crowd as she sings her heart out. The lights pulse brighter, and YN walks up and down the front of the stage, not staying in one spot for too long.

When the song comes to an end, YN is back in the middle of the stage and laughing. There's a stool there with a bottle of water sitting atop of it, and YN takes a hearty gulp from it. Only when the crowd dies down does she address them. "Wow." The crowd chuckles at her awe. "I mean, wow, guys!" She laughs. "When my hometown asked me to perform for this festival, I did not expect this turn out. Holy shi-" She cuts herself off, shaking her head in awe as the crowd cheers yet again, laughing along with her. "For those of you who don't know who I am, my name is YN YLN and I grew up here in Charming. And for those of you who do know who I am.. let's party!"

The beat for the next song starts, and the crowd goes wild yet again. The song then cuts out and YN laughs as their whines.

"I apologize in advance for the foul language, but well.. if you're that worried about it maybe you should put some earmuffs on the little ears like these parents have done up here." YN points right at Jax and Tara, smiling and waving at the two of them. "Kudos to you guys because I drop f-bombs in some of my songs."

Tara chuckles as Jax calls out, "I figured! You dropped f-bombs all throughout high school too!"

YN's jaw drops as she laughs. "Touché, Teller." Then glancing back at the crowd, she says, "If you haven't guessed by now, this next song is called Happier Than Ever. If you know it, I wanna hear you scream it!"

The beat starts again.

"You called me again, drunk in your Benz. Drivin' home under the influence. You scared me to death, but I'm wasting my breath 'cause you only listen to your fuckin' friends." The crowd screams at the f-bomb, Jax and Opie shaking their head at the high school friend. "'Cause I'd never treat me this shitty. You made me hate this city."

The crowd erupts into song, riling themselves up as YN rocks out on stage. Front and center, Letty and Juice scream the lyrics right back at her. "And I don't talk shit about you on the internet. Never told anyone anything bad 'cause that shit's embarrassing. You were my everything, and all that you did was make me fucking sad."

Coco can't believe his daughter is losing her shit over this singer, but he can't deny how happy it makes him to see Letty be so carefree. Even if she is hanging off the shoulder of a Son.

"Hey, 'mano," Angel nudges Jax, "was she this hot in high school too?"

Jax snorts. "You interested?"

Having heard the conversation since they were shouting it, EZ worms his way in between them. "Please," he scoffs. "She's famous. There's no way she'll slum it with a biker from Santo Padre."

"Well, she did slum it with a biker from Charming," Opie muses.

"Will you four knock it off?" Gemma elbows her way between the four men. "Enjoy the show!"

YN sings a few more songs, back-to-back, and by the time she takes a breather she's panting and heaving on stage. The smile hasn't left her face, but it's obvious her set is coming to an end.

Dragging her stool to the very front of the stage and taking a seat in front of the fan blowing air on stage, YN runs her fingers through her hair before fanning herself as if it'll cool her off faster. She exhales roughly, laughing as the crowd is still in titters. "So, I debated how I wanted to end my set and I think I have it all figured out now," she says. The crowd whoops and YN takes a beat to collect her breath. "The night is winding down so I'm gonna go out with a slow song, but not just any 'ol song. The song I'm going to sing was actually written for me by someone who was very close to my heart. I've held onto it for years and I think it's time I share it with the world." YN glances over her shoulder, watching as a man steps forward, dragging his own stool to take a seat and settling his guitar in his lap. Once he's settled, YN nods at him before addressing the crowd once more. "Sorry in advance if I start bawling."

"It's okay! We love you!" Letty screams.

YN hears and chuckles, looking directly at Letty. "Thank you. I love you guys too." She glances at the guitarist then and nods again, and his fingers start plucking the strings to emit a calm tempo.

"Take it," she sings. "If she gives you her heart, don't you break it. Let your arms be a place she feels safe in. She's the best thing that you'll ever have."

Gemma and Jax glance at each other at the same time. "Near and dear?" He muses.

Gemma shrugs. "She never mentioned anybody."

"She loves pop songs and dancing and bad trash TV. There's still a few other things. She loves love notes and babies and likes giving gifts. Has a hard time accepting a good compliment."

"Yep. Sounds like her," Opie mutters.

As YN sings, she sways side to side on her stool, eyes closed. Then as the chorus is sung again, she reaches up with her free hand and quickly swipes under her eyes. Tara glances at Jax and he shrugs, smiling sadly before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and bringing her close to his side. Whoever wrote this song for her must have really loved her and they wonder if she ever got to experience that love.

"Kiss her with passion as much as you can. Run your hands through her hair whenever she's sad. And when she doesn't notice how pretty she is, tell her over and over so she never forgets."

The chorus comes up again and YN's voice cracks, and the backup singers are quick to pick up right away. She pulls the mic away, trying to smile through her heartache and tears. The crowd picks up on her emotional state and cheers for her, but YN quickly pulls herself together to finish the song.

"She'll love you if you love her like that."

As the song comes to an end, the crowd erupts. YN smiles before bursting into tears, setting her mic down on the stool as her guitarist quickly stands to hug her so she can hide her face. The crowd continues to cheer, some wiping tears of their own, and then YN collects herself long enough to take a bow and thank the crowd for coming.

Jax glances at Tara, only to find her wiping her own tears away. He chuckles at her before pressing a kiss to her forehead and then outright laughs when he sees Juice trying to subtly rid himself of his tears as well.

"This was the best night ever," Letty says, tucked under Coco's arm now. "Thanks for letting us roll up, Jax."

He smirks. "Don't even worry about it, kid. I'm glad you got to enjoy the concert from the front row."

"Night's not over, kiddos," Gemma cuts in. "We're VIP. We get to do a meet and greet."

Letty perks right back up and Gemma leads the group towards the back of the stage, opting for all of them to go last since they had a personal connection to YN.

. .

. .

After cleaning yourself up and making yourself presentable, you have a brief meet and greet with those who had scored VIP bracelets. You take pictures with them all, accepting a few gifts here and there, before a large group comes in together. When you see Gemma leading them, you can't help but laugh and rush up to hug her.

"Hey! I'm so glad you could make it."

"Baby, I wouldn't have missed it for the world." Gemma pulls back, looking you up and down before nodding in approval at whatever she sees. "I even brought some old friends and new ones."

"I can see that." You glance up and over her shoulder, smiling at the two troublemakers you remember from your youth. "Jax. Opie."

"YN." Both men step forward, pulling you into a group hug. Though one of the men broke your heart long ago, you feel nothing but platonic love for your blonde ex.

"God, it's good to see you boys." As you pull back, you catch Jax sheepishly smiling at you.

"I, uh, I want you to meet my wife Tara."

As he reaches for someone just behind him, you smile at the pretty brunette. "Ah. So, you're the infamous Tara." Her smile falters and you wink at her, offering her your hand to shake. "It's nice to finally meet you, even though I'm pretty sure we graduated the same year."

"Likewise." Tara grins. "And can I just say, you're a great singer."

"Thanks." Your eyes slide to the boy in her arms and it takes everything not to coo. Your gaze slides down further to the boy who's holding both Tara and Jax's hands. "Jesus, the Teller genes are really strong in those two."

Jax laughs. "This one standing is Abel and the one in Tara's arms is Thomas."

"How the hell did you end up with angels for kids while I birthed the spawn of Satan?"

Nearly everyone in the room snorts with the exception of Gemma who arches an eyebrow at you. "You got a kid?"

"Mommy!"

You wince. "Speak of the devil." Turning around, you bend down and scoop up the dark-haired terror making a beeline for you. "Luna, mi amor!" You hug her, kiss her cheek, and then pull back to playfully narrow your eyes at her. "Why aren't you asleep, young lady?"

"Because you sang my favorite song!"

"All my songs are your favorite songs."

"Mhm."

Your eyes narrow further. "They gave you candy, didn't they?"

Luna's eyes go wide in her excitement. "So much!"

The room's occupants laugh again and you shake your head. Hitching your daughter on your hip, you turn to face everyone. "Everyone, this is Luna. Love of my life, pain in the butt, but all around a pretty decent kid." She giggles as you tickle her stomach. "Luna, these are mommy's friends from school Opie, Jax and Tara. Tara's boys Abel and Thomas, and then Jax's mommy Gemma."

"And what about them?" Luna points out the other individuals in the room you've yet to meet and your eyes go wide.

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry! Hi! Hello." You lurch towards the group of five grinning at you. You shake each of their hands. "Thank you for coming. I hope you enjoyed the show."

"Don't even worry about it, hermosa. And we did." You smile at the handsome man, trying not to blush under his gaze. "I'm Angel."

You glance at the man next to him and he smiles, sticking his hand out. "EZ. Or Ezekiel."

"Hi, EZ."

"Coco. And the whole reason why we're down here is because my daughter Letty is a huge fan." He gestures to the petite brunette beneath his arm and you smile at her.

"H-Hi. It's so cool to meet you. I'm a huge fan."

"Hi, Letty. And thank you. It's always nice to hear that someone enjoys the music you put out."

"I'm, uh, I'm Juice," the final person says. "I came with Jax and the others, but kinda didn't wanna interrupt the whole reunion going on."

"You should have." You chuckle. "I don't think anyone would have cared."

"Mommy," Luna suddenly pipes up, suddenly shy. "I need to potty."

"Alright, babe. One more minute." She nods and you kiss the crown of her head. "Mommy duty calls."

"Don't sweat it, baby," Gemma says.

"Hey, uh, if no one is in a rush to head home, is there a place we can hang out? I really would really like if we could catch up."

"Yeah. The clubhouse is free," Jax says. His gaze then slides over to the Mayans. "You guys are more than welcome to come hang too."

Letty perks up, attention snapping to her dad and expression pleading. He groans, and EZ and Angel laugh. Angel agrees for their group and YN promises to meet them at the clubhouse once she tends to Luna.

"I actually need to put the boys down," Tara says. "Sorry."

You smile reassuringly at her. "Don't be. Thanks for coming. It was nice to meet you."

"Same."

As Jax walks his wife out, Opie calls out to the Mayans and tells them he'll take the lead on the way to the clubhouse. You wave off Gemma when she offers you a ride and tell her you'll be there as soon as possible, and to make sure no croweaters are around because Luna will be tagging along. She laughs, but agrees to kick everyone out.

After tending to Luna and making sure she's okay with visiting with the people she had just met, you buckle her into her car seat and wind through the familiar streets of Charming until you're pulling up outside of Teller-Morrow Automotive.

Hand in hand with Luna, you walk into the clubhouse and shake your head in bewilderment. "Wow. This place hasn't changed a bit."

"I do not believe it," a voice rings out. "YN, as I live and breathe." The owner of the voice stands up from where everyone had congregated, and you beam at the man you used to tease about marrying when you were younger. Chibs. "And with a wee lass of her own? Times really have changed."

"Hi, Chibs." You walk forward, hugging him with only one arm as Luna refuses to let your hand go. "It's been a while."

"I'll say." As he steps back to take you in, he crouches in front of your daughter. "Hello, lass. Name's Chibs. I used to bail your mom out of jail."

You kick out at him as your daughter's eyes light up and you mentally groan. You know she'll remember that for the rest of her life. "If she blackmails me with that, you're dead."

"She's a bit young for blackmail, isn't she?" Jax calls out.

You shake your head as you find a seat in the corner of a sofa, pulling Luna down next to you. "It's all the Spanish blood running through her veins. She's a menace."

"Wait, you're Spanish?" Angel asks.

You glance at him, grinning. "Yeah. Could you not tell?"

"Well, I didn't want to assume, querida. In this day and age, people are really sensitive about that stuff."

You open your mouth to retort before snapping it shut. He wasn't wrong.

"So, what the hell have you been up to?" Opie asks.

Settling into your seat, you grin. "After I left Charming, I applied for college. Spent four years in school and in my last year is when I met my husband."

"Yeah? And where is he now?" Gemma asks.

Your smile falters, but before you can answer, Luna does. "Daddy's in Heaven with the other angels." Everyone looks at you in surprise and you shrug. "Mommy, I'm thirsty."

Immediately, Juice stands up. "Hey, kid, come on. I think we got something you can drink in the refrigerator."

Luna looks at you for your direction and you grin at her, nudging her to go. She hops off the sofa and walks towards Juice, reaching for his outstretched hand. You smile gratefully at him and when he disappears behind a door, you say, "Andres had a brain aneurysm. Went to bed one night and never woke up."

"Jesus, baby, I'm so sorry."

You nod at Gemma, smiling softly. "Thank you. I've come to terms with his passing long ago, but sometimes I'll do something or someone will say something and I'll get emotional all over again."

"He's the near and dear person you were talking about when you sang that last song, isn't he?" Letty asks. Everyone looks at her and Coco nudges her. She winces and punches him back. "What? I just- I'm sorry. I just assumed because the lyrics were that of someone truly close to her."

You smile at the teenager. "You assumed correctly. Andres wrote that song and he sang it at our wedding."

"So what are your plans now?" Jax asks, changing the subject. "Luna's at that age where she can start school. You going to homeschool her or..?"

You sigh before admitting, "I want to get her enrolled into a school. I'll have to take a major break from the music industry so she can have a normal childhood, but that's all part of being a parent so.."

"Abel's starting school this year too," Gemma muses. "I'm sure he and Luna can use a familiar face in school when they start."

"A Teller and a YLN?" Opie groans. "The teachers won't know what hit them."

"We'll be called for a parent/teacher conference by the end of the week," you mumble.

The group chuckles and when Luna reappears, a little too bright eyed for having just something to drink, you put Juice on babysitting duty. He happily accepts and it isn't long before Opie, Chibs, Gemma and Jax are regaling the Mayan crew about your youth.

Opie tells them all about your stints in detention because of some chick fight you always seemed to be in, Gemma tells them about you and Jax hotwiring a car during a dare, and Chibs tells them about when he had to bail you out of jail for public indecency.

"I was peeing on the side of the road! It wasn't like I was flashing my kitty cat to the world," you grumble.

As the night continues on, you learn about Jax taking over for the Sons and how he made peace with everyone. You muse about wondering how they were at complete ease with the Mayans because the last you remembered, they were on different sides of a war. Then you end up taking pictures with everyone- Juice and Letty getting their own solo pics with you, but everyone else groups together. Gemma and Chibs stand on either side of you, arms wrapped around your shoulders and waist, for one pic. Opie and Jax for another. And then Angel and Coco stand on either side of you with EZ standing on Coco's other side.

When your time is coming to an end, you're surprised to see your daughter on the lap of a Mayan. Angel looks smug as can be that Luna chose him, sitting sideways on his lap with her forehead pressed to his neck as she's half awake, half asleep.

"Well, it seems that's my cue to go and check into our hotel room," you say, gesturing to your daughter.

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" Gemma asks.

"Luna and I are going to be at the festival. I have loads of food coupons and wristbands for free entrance and unlimited rides."

"Lucky," Juice grumbles.

"I have more than enough if anyone wants to tag along. I wouldn't mind some of you guys coming, actually, to keep the people at bay."

"Sorry, darlin'," Jax slightly frowns. "We got a run tomorrow."

"And I have errands," Gemma mutters.

"I'm not doing anything tomorrow!" Letty immediately perks up.

You glance at her and then at her dad who's shaking his head. "I gotta get back to make a run for Bishop."

"I'm free," EZ says. "I can give Letty a ride back if the Sons are okay with us staying in Charming."

"Yeah. That's not a problem," Jax says.

Letty turns a pleading gaze to his father and he sighs. "Fine. You can stay."

"One call and I'm free," Angel muses. "I doubt my baby brother will be enough to keep anyone at bay all on his lonesome."

"Thanks. I'd appreciate it."

You spend a few more minutes hammering out the details, trading numbers with EZ, Angel and Letty so you can meet up with them tomorrow and give them their wristbands. Jax offers up a few dorms for the Mayans there at the clubhouse so they don't have to worry about booking any rooms anywhere, and then Angel's offering to carry Luna to the car you had rented when you stand up to retrieve her.

You spend a few minutes hugging your old friends, promising Gemma you would be in touch because you were serious about settling down and wanted her help looking into houses. She was more than ecstatic to hear that and promised to start looking around Charming first.

As you're walking towards your vehicle with Angel at your back, you open up the back door for him. He moves to settle Luna into her seat and her hand drags across his beard. "Mommy?" She sleepily calls out.

"Yes, baby?"

"This one's pretty. Can we keep him?"

Both you and Angel snort at her words, and you can only shake your head at your daughter's audacity. "Well, mami, what's it gonna be?" He asks, crossing his arms over his well-toned chest.

"¡Cállate!" You huff a laugh. "We already have un perro, we don't need another."

"Ouch, querida, that hurt." His shoulders shake as he tries not to laugh too loud and disturb your daughter's sleep.

"Just call 'em as I see 'em, guapo." You smile at him, softening your previous words. "Thanks for carrying her. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Buenas noches, hermosa."

You grin at him. "Buenas noches."

You and your daughter Luna sleep in the next day, only waking up when the urge to pee can no longer be ignored. Luna is still dead to the world when you finish up your business and then decide to shower when she won't be fighting for your attention while you're naked.

You're ordering some brunch when she finally wakes and then afterwards you help her through her morning routine so she's awake enough to eat without fuzzy teeth. Then once she's full, you help her bathe and dress, and put her hair up into two buns with the ends of her hair sticking out at the bottom to give it a fun and crazy look.

You somehow end up with the same hairstyle as Luna since it made you look a little different and you hoped it was enough to deter any fans from approaching. Then you put on a pair of Aviator sunglasses that had a blue-ish, purple tint, and grabbed up all the wristbands and food coupons you had left over after distributing some to your tour crew.

When you meet up with your group for the day, Letty squeals over your and Luna's hairstyle and immediately busies herself with your daughter. You laugh, shake your head at her, and then greet Angel and EZ with hugs.

"You boys ready for today?" You ask. You gesture for Angel to raise his hand and he does, and you're quick to wrap two bands- neon green and orange- around his wrist. "Someone better get on the SlingShot with me."

"Count me out." EZ chuckles as he offers you his own wrist so you can wrap two bands around him too. "I'll take Luna when you get on though."

"Gatito," you mutter. The brothers laugh as you move onto Letty and Luna, wrapping wristbands around their wrists as well. Then when you're done, Letty wraps the wristbands around your own wrists. "So," you sigh, addressing the group at large, "the plan is for you guys to follow me so you can park the bikes where no one will mess with them. Letty, if you want, you can ride with me and Luna."

"Hell yes."

Once you get Luna situated back in her car seat and Letty buckles up in your passenger seat, you drive towards the festival grounds. You have access to the private parking in the back and you briefly stop to tell security that the two men on motorcycles are with you.

"Alright." You clap your hands excitedly once you're out of your vehicle and everyone is gathered around once again. "Who's excited for some thrills and the most unhealthiest of foods?"

"Me!" Luna screams.

You divide up a handful of food coupons between you and Letty, the two of you shoving them into your pockets since you had a less chance of losing them with how tight your shorts were. Plans were made so that the adult who didn't get on a ride would hold all the phones and then you were off, Luna holding onto your and Letty's hands while Angel and EZ walked a step behind the three of you.

Luna doesn't waste a second before choosing a ride of her choice, choosing a miniature roller coaster in the shape of a dragon that merely went in a loop with a few hills here and there. You can see the horror on her face at the first small drop, but the cheering from you, Angel, EZ and Letty ends up making her laugh and forget all about it.

She goes on the swings and then the train by herself, and then you and Letty get on the enormous slide and the carousel with her much to Angel's amusement. But then the tables are turned when she wants to get on the spinning pool balls, and asks Angel and EZ to get on with her. You and Letty get on as well, phones at the ready to record the broody Reyes brothers on the cheerful spinning carnival ride.

When Luna starts to be uninterested in getting on rides, you decide to feed her. Everyone eats something small while your daughter stuffs her face, and then she gets her face painted and manages to get the Reyes brothers to compete for one of the large plush unicorns for her. Angel wins it and becomes unbearably smug about it, and then the rest of you decide to hit up the funhouses before opting for a ride since the corndogs and lemonade were still heavy in your stomachs.

You and Letty laugh your heads off in the House of Mirrors when Angel walks into a mirror and hits his forehead pretty hard. In another funhouse that has a few different obstacles to overcome, you and Letty stumble over a conveyor belt hallway that changes direction every few seconds. EZ pokes fun when you stumble out of the spinning tunnel at the end, and then you and Letty urge him to do better.

And better he does not do.

The moment EZ steps onto the conveyor belt and it changes direction, he hits the ground with his knees. The look of surprise on his face has you, Angel and Letty losing your collective shits. The belt jerks forwards and backwards, and EZ curses up a storm as he tries to get his feet beneath him while holding onto the railing. By the time he's stumbling out of the spinning tunnel at the end and glaring at the funhouse operator, you and Angel are practically holding each other up with tears in your eyes.

The Ferris Wheel buckets are enough for all five of you to get on and Letty takes plenty of photos of all you inside the bucket plus an aerial view of the carnival all lit up down below. You drag Letty onto the Zipper and the Fireball with you, and before you decide to eat dinner, you beg Angel to get on the SlingShot with you.

Angel's as confident as can be until he actually sees what the SlingShot is and then you can see his confidence waver. But EZ steps in, calls him a coward, and then Angel's dragging you to the line. There are not too many adrenaline junkies so you make it to the front of the line fairly quickly, and all too soon you're being strapped into the spherical seat.

You have to bite back a laugh when Angel makes absolutely sure the ride operator has him secured in properly, but end up caving when you hear Letty and EZ teasing him from the safety of their positions. And when you glance at them, your heart melts a little to see Luna happily seated on EZ's shoulders as Letty holds onto her unicorn for her.

You and Angel are waiting in your seat when you notice a little red light on the camera in front of you turn on. The spherical seat you're in gets reclined backwards so you're now looking up at the darkened sky and you snort when you see Angel cross himself from the corner of your eye.

Glancing directly at the camera, you wink and completely school your expression. "Hey, Angel?"

"Yeah, hermosa?"

"I think we fucked up. I'm having second thoughts."

"Jesus fuckin'- don't tell me that. I didn't even want to get on this ride to begin with!"

You laugh as he starts to curse and then the ride operator starts a countdown. You can hear EZ and Letty join in as you grip tight to the bars that are sitting over your chest, and then the ride operator green lights the ride. You and Angel shoot upward, your scream of terror soon turning into screams of laughter as Angel curses up a storm next to you.

As your seat continues to bounce, turning this way that way and slowing down, you decide to mess with him some more.

"Angelito?"

"What?"

You smirk at the hint of a bite in his tone. "I think I'm gonna hurl."

"¡Hijo de puta!" He curses and you snort, shaking with suppressed laughter. "You better not, querida. You better lock that shit down right now."

You're still giggling when the ride comes to a complete stop and the ride operator releases you from your restraints. Angel hurriedly stomps off the platform and you rush to a set of TV monitors to see the pictures. They're absolutely hilarious and you quickly shell out money for the pictures and the DVD video of it all.

With your purchases in hand, you finally rejoin your friends and daughter.

"Did you seriously buy all that bullshit?"

"You bet your sweet ass I did," you tell Angel, causing Letty and EZ to laugh some more. "Now who's hungry?"

With Luna on EZ's shoulders, he leads the way to all the food booths. Everyone takes their time figuring out what they want to eat and after waiting in line at a couple different booths, everyone gathers around a picnic table to eat their findings.

And after eating a cheeseburger with chili cheese fries and half a funnel cake, you can barely manage to keep yourself upright. Your elbows are on the table, chin resting on the palms of your hands as you watch Luna eat and exhibit far too much energy than you think she should be capable of right now.

As soon as Angel finishes his last taco, he wipes his hands off with a napkin and stands up just enough to turn in his seat. Now straddling the bench, he pulls you in so you're resting against his chest. You happen to catch EZ's gaze across the table and he wiggles his eyebrows at you. You roll your eyes and practically melt into his brother.

"So, what's the plan now that you've done your obligation to the festival committee?" EZ asks.

You shrug. "Find a house and plant roots, I guess."

"You were really serious about that?" Letty asks. "Would you still be making music?"

"I want to," you admit. "I love writing, but after tonight- after having a normal night of fun with you guys and my daughter, I just want her to have a semi-decent childhood where people aren't crowding us."

"Where are you going to look for a house at?" Angel asks.

"Most likely here in Charming. Gemma wasn't wrong when she said it would be nice for Jax's kid and my kid to have a familiar face with them when we leave them on their own."

"You don't think that'll be weird? Your kid and your ex's kid going on playdates and shit."

"No." You laugh. "While I can admit Teller aged like a fine wine-" Letty snorts across from you, "-I can also admit that there is no longing or what if's when I look at him. I'm happy Jax and Tara found their way back to each other. Luna wouldn't be here if Jax hadn't broken up with me, so for that I'm also kind of grateful. I don't think I can picture my life without that tiny terror."

"So that's that, huh? You're just gonna be a mom now?" Letty arches an eyebrow at you.

"Sort of. I'll still write, but most likely just sell the songs. I have to keep the cash rolling in somehow," you muse. "And when Luna's old enough, then and only then will I think about getting back into a recording studio."

"Well, whatever you decide, querida, we'll support you."

"Yeah? You think you'll still be around that long down the line, huh?"

"Of course. You've got blackmail material on me. I ain't goin' nowhere."

EZ laughs at his brother. "I need to see that video, YN. The boys back in Santo Padre would pay to see it too."

"Fuck that." Angel frowns. "No one's seeing a goddamn thing."

"Little ears, Angel!" Letty glares at him, covering Luna's ears with her hands. "Shut up."

"I'm pretty she's heard worse or have you not heard her ma?"

You smirk and wink at Letty. "I can't wait until I can attend those PTA meetings. These Charming mothers won't know what hit them."

"Yeah?" EZ chuckles. "I've heard stories about Teller's wife. I have a feeling the two of you are going to piss off a lot of these PTA moms."

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

Songs used in this fic are White Flag by Bishop Briggs, Happier Than Ever by Billie Eilish, and If You Love Her by Forest Blakk.

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