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porcelainseashore · 6 months

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Ghosts from the Past (2)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Agent! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Informant! Fem! Reader

Summary: 7 years after leaving behind everything you’ve known, you’re suddenly thrust into facing a ghost from your past, Leon. Navigating where you stand with him brings up old memories, painful truths and countless questions. At the same time, you have to deal with a bunch of strange occurrences at your dance company. Set after Resident Evil 4 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Canon-Typical Horror and Violence, Blood, Injury, Torture, Infection, Medical Experiments, Psychological Trauma, Nightmares

Content: Post-Resident Evil 4, Exes to Lovers, Partners to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Romance, Fluff

Author's Note: This chapter is a lot more dialogue-heavy to set up the scenes for the next ones. It was originally going to be angstier, but my heart wouldn’t let me. Oops. I hope you still like it though.

AO3 Link

Chapter 2: Baptism

Outside the embassy, Leon hailed for a cab to get to the bar. The journey there was in complete awkward silence, except for the occasional question raised by the cab driver, who quizzed you on why you were headed to such an unsavory place. Somehow he could tell that Leon didn’t quite belong and cautioned about certain areas being unsafe for tourists. Leon just snorted in response, while you laughed inwardly at the irony of his cover story, where he was meant to be your American tourist friend embarking on a Eurotrip.

To be honest, it really wasn’t as bad as people made it out to be. Berlin was a smaller city and felt safer than New York. However, you still carried around that Swiss Army knife Leon had won and given to you back in the day wherever you went, just in case. You ran the tip of your finger along its metallic surface in your pocket. The world could be cruel to little girls after all.

As you exited from the cab, you were greeted by a lively, eclectic neighborhood, sprinkled with night markets, kebab and shisha shops, independent art spaces and late night bars. The buildings were noticeably more rundown than Mitte, the district you had traveled from, and the community a lot edgier. With both of you now dressed casually, you had no problem blending into the midnight crowd.

You swung open the doors of an unmarked establishment and found yourselves shrouded in thick wafts of cigarette smoke upon entering. Leon frowned, coughing as he swatted the air in front of him. Even though you were used to smoking being allowed pretty much everywhere in Germany, your eyes still watered as you pressed up against and squeezed past the mass of bodies in the dimly-lit, dingy bar. The smell on your clothes and hair would take days to get rid of later. It was noisy and chaotic, with nearly every inch of the space occupied by chatty, drunk customers, some more boisterous than the others. You were lucky to find a small, rickety table with two precarious-looking stools at the extreme corner of the room.

Setting your coat and day bag down on one of the stools to claim it, you folded your arms, turned to Leon and remarked, “So… an agent, huh?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Whiskey first. Then, we’ll talk.”

You rolled your eyes at his standoffish reply, wondering what his problem was. After all these years where he had led you to assume he was dead, and with the circumstances both of you had found each other in, this was the kind of attitude he took with you? A prickling feeling of agitation grew in your chest as you pushed past him, storming towards the bar in annoyance.

Upon approaching it, you breathed out a sigh of relief when you saw that you knew the bartender who was on shift tonight. He usually popped a little extra into your drinks whenever he sensed you had a shitty day. Tonight was no exception.

“Zwei doppelte Kurze Whiskey.” (Two double shots of whiskey.) You raised two fingers at him to spell out your order.

He grunted out an acknowledgement as he got to work, filling two empty glasses with the fiery amber liquor, one glass topped up significantly more than the other.

“Macht er dir Probleme?” (Is he giving you any trouble?) He asked, without looking up from pouring the shots. It seemed like he had noticed your little commotion with Leon from just before.

“Aktuell nicht,” (Not for now.) you answered guardedly.

At this point, Leon had caught up to you, watching as the bartender placed the glass with more whiskey on the counter top in front of you and the one with less before Leon.

Leon huffed at the slight and shook his head. “I’ll take the bottle too.”

The bartender eyed him suspiciously as he plonked the whiskey bottle on the counter loudly, like there was an unspoken competition going on between them.

“Here,” Leon mentioned coolly, sliding a couple of euro bills along the counter to pay for all the drinks. “Keep the change.”

You sighed at the childish display before you, giving the bartender an apologetic look as you took your glass without a word, and settled in at the small table you had informally reserved earlier. The people around you were far more interested in drinking than any conversation you were about to have. Occasionally a fight started, but those responsible were easily cleared out by the staff.

There should be no issues with privacy here, you thought, as you downed your first round of drinks simultaneously with Leon.

The sharp alcohol burned your throat, warming you from the inside. You noticed Leon wincing as he brought the glass to his cut lip, finishing its contents in one clean gulp and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Did he get hurt in the field? You wondered, but chose not to question it, instead pouring yourself another shot as Leon did likewise.

Frustrated by the ongoing silence between the two of you and Leon’s seeming reluctance to speak, you decided to break the dead air, stating sarcastically, “Anything else you need before we get started? Room service? A hot bath, perhaps?”

He threw back another shot, twisting his lips into a wry smile. “Hm, don’t tempt me.”

“Leon, what happened? All these years… I thought you had died.” You were getting tired of this game and wanted an honest exchange for once.

“I did,” he replied softly.

“Huh?”

Averting his gaze quickly, he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “It doesn’t matter.”

But you wanted answers. You needed to know what had been haunting him too. “It does to me.”

You reached out to him cautiously, but just as your fingers ghosted the back of his hand, he moved it away, his voice turning cold as ice. “Look, I don’t know what you’re expecting, but it’s been a long time-”

His reaction took you by surprise as you interjected defensively, “Yeah, I can count.”

A long time? If anyone should be able to comprehend that, you were more than qualified.

“I’m not the same guy you used to know back then,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard you.

“And I’m not the same girl you knew either,” you countered, in a mixture of anger and confusion. He was talking to you like he was blaming you for something. It wasn’t fair and you weren’t going to put up with it anymore. “Stop avoiding the question, Leon.”

“Still as stubborn as hell though,” he muttered.

Your blood boiled at his non-answer. “Is this some kind of joke to you?” You seethed, raising your voice. “I mourned you. The past 7 years. I heard nothing. Your parents heard nothing.” You emphasized each point, taking another shot afterwards to calm your nerves. Your face scrunched up in response to the harsh bite of the liquor. “And now this?”

He paused for a moment, fiddling with the empty glass in his hands, before hesitantly responding, “I got out of Raccoon City. Then, the government asked me to work for them.”

You caught the drift of what he was implying when he stressed the word ‘asked’, like it wasn’t by choice. But you didn’t understand what hold they had on him.

“That’s all you need to know.” Placing his glass back down on the table, he took a swig from the bottle itself this time. The few sentences he gave you had taken a toll on him.

“Why? How did they-”

“The rest is classified,” he snapped through gritted teeth, as a form of warning not to push it any further.

You slumped back in your chair in defeat, realizing that you weren’t much closer to understanding him and what he had gone through.

“Why did you join Silje’s company?” Leon questioned out of the blue, his tone filled with resentment, so much so that you bit your lip in reflex as guilt seeped into your heart.

“After you… die-disappeared, I-I didn’t know what else to do.” You cast your eyes downwards, your voice choking up with emotion as the memories you had suppressed came flooding back, like a gaping wound in your side.

“I had to leave. Everything just-” you paused, clenching your fists so hard that you could see the imprints of your fingernails against your palms. “-reminded me of you.”

At this, his stony gaze faltered slightly and a look of despondence slowly spread across his face.

“You could have gone anywhere else, but you just had to choose her, didn’t you?” He uttered somewhat accusingly. “You really shouldn’t get involved in this.”

“A bit too late for that,” you argued. Did he think you couldn’t hold your own?

“You can still walk away,” he offered.

Shaking your head, you peered back at him defiantly. “I’m not leaving you.”

“That’s what you said last time,” he retorted bitterly, his brows etched together in a frown. “Look at how that turned out.”

Your mouth ran dry, and it felt as if you had been given a tight slap across your cheek.

So this was what it was all about? He still faulted you for what happened in the past? The most troubling thing was that you had nothing to say to that. You truly held yourself accountable for whatever that had gone wrong.

“Is this why you want to get rid of me?” It came out as a bare whisper.

He shrugged impassively, unable to meet your eyes like he was hiding something. “It’s just better this way.”

Your mind was going round in circles as you were put on the spot. However, something inside you kept rebelling against what Leon had to say. You couldn’t abandon him again. Not like this, even though he claimed it was the better route to take. Didn’t he once tell you to trust him to make his own decisions? Then, he should offer you the same courtesy. You weren’t about to throw in the towel and give up now.

So instead of running away like he expected you to, you pushed back. “No.”

Leon narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I said no,” you repeated again resolutely. “We have a job to do. I’m helping you to infiltrate this base whether you like it or not.”

His lips were drawn into a thin line as he brooded quietly in the corner, but he continued to hear you out.

“Once that’s done, we can go back to our own separate lives if you want,” you stated. “Just like how it was.”

A fair compromise. Although deep down you hoped it wouldn’t mark the end of your interactions with Leon. Well, you’ll cross that bridge when you come to it.

After a while of considering your suggestion, he agreed warily, “Ok.”

His gaze was impenetrable while both of you drank in silence. At some point, you decided to call it a night, since you had an early start with him tomorrow to go over your next plan of action. It was drizzling when you came out of the bar, the water droplets falling on your face like a baptism of a new chapter. You had made your bed, now you had to lie in it.

As Leon called for another cab to take him back to where he was staying, you left without a word, walking on your own to the nearest U-Bahn station. He watched you until you were just a tiny speck in his vision, lost amongst the sea of people and glowing street lights.

━━━━━━━━━━━

You and Leon were standing in front of the dining table of his service apartment, a mess of papers sprawled across every surface. He rested his curled fingers under his chin, eyeing the diagrams and notes scribbled on the sheets like a hawk, analyzing them for any obvious patterns.

He picked up a report that you had drafted recently. “So Silje told you all of this?”

You yawned and sipped at the instant coffee Leon had offered you when you had arrived. It was a couple of hours earlier than when you were normally up, as you’d have to head over to the theater to train after this meeting. You had pushed away whatever thoughts you had resulting from the conversation with Leon last night to the back of your mind, in favor of professionalism. Afterall, it wasn’t your first rodeo pretending things were fine, and neither was it Leon’s.

“Some of it, yes. Though in her own way of speaking in riddles,” you explained. “The rest I had overheard or tailed her without her knowing.”

“Are you sure you weren’t spotted?” It sounded like a mixture of concern and him questioning your abilities, the latter of which irritated you a little.

“If I was, would I still be standing here?” You stated brusquely.

“Fair enough.”

You pointed at the blueprint map again, tracing the outlines of your markings with your fingers as you explained, “From what I gathered, the site has two main sections beyond the theater space. The upper levels are easily accessible, but shaped like a labyrinth. I haven’t explored everything yet, but if my gut feeling is right, I would say that the entrance leading further down might be all the way over here.” You tapped at the red circle with a question mark drawn on the map.

“The lower levels are only accessible via keycard. Obviously Silje has one, but there must be others too,” you reasoned.

“That said, I’ve seen her bringing in the same man more than once. Business type, probably in his 60s, speaking German with a Swiss accent.” Then, you proceeded to describe his outward appearance in further detail.

“Silje always passed him off as being part of the company board. I doubt it though,” you shrugged.

Leon hummed in response, and the corners of his mouth turned slightly upward, as if he was trying to hold back a smile. It was the first sign of approval he showed you since you had reconnected.

As he thumbed through the rest of the papers, he cocked his head to the side, tapping his fingers on the table absentmindedly. “One thing I don’t get from this is why she’s confided in you.”

You nipped your lip, swallowing anxiously, as you were afraid of disclosing what you might have committed yourself to.

“She wanted to offer me a gift,” you whispered.

“A gift?” He tensed up noticeably at the word. “Did you accept?”

“Um… yes?” You replied uneasily, but tried to persuade him that nothing else had happened yet. “She only told me it would come soon.”

The drumming of his fingers on the table stopped abruptly, as he gripped the edge of it, clenching his jaw as he spoke, “Why the fuck would you do something like that?”

“I-I thought it would help,” you stuttered, caught off-guard by the sudden shift in his mood.

“What exactly has Bergmann told you about this case?” He hissed.

“That Silje was suspected of harboring some bioterrorists.”

You flinched as he cursed a second time loudly, before muttering a quick, “Excuse me for a minute.” With that, he darted out of the room into the hallway to make a call.

So here you were, left alone without answers again. The secrecy surrounding the entire mission and Leon’s erratic behavior was starting to grate on you, but there wasn’t much you could do about it.

Past the hallway, out of sight and earshot, Leon had connected with Hunnigan on comms.

“Leon,” she greeted. “Any news?”

“Our old friend, the Plaga,” he stated. “Seems like our suspicions might be right.”

“You have the source to back that up?” She asked out of habit, even though she already knew the answer.

“I went through the documents. I’m not 100%, but it’s close.”

He detailed an abnormality that stood out during the investigations. “A few days ago, some people on site experienced temporary psychotic episodes where their veins turned black, but reverted back to normal after.”

“That’s aligning with whatever intel we’ve already picked up. It could be a new strain of the Plaga,” he concluded.

Hunnigan nodded. “We’ll require a sample for the labs when you’re in the base. Anything you need me to do?”

“Run some files on any surviving Los Iluminados members. Focus on trade routes with Germany,” he requested. “The informant mentioned Silje entertaining a particular ‘business partner’ on a regular basis.”

“On it.” She typed away furiously at a computer keyboard off-screen.

“Another thing,” Leon commented. “Why wasn’t the informant told about the real nature of this situation?”

“That was under Bergmann’s discretion.”

He scoffed derisively. “She’s putting her in danger. The informant has no idea what she’s risking here. Silje just offered her the ‘gift’ and you and I know what that means.”

“Leon, you know the rules,” Hunnigan sighed sympathetically. “We don’t really have much say in this jurisdiction.”

“What do you mean? She reports to HQ!”

“Yeah, and they’ve given her free reign,” she explained, without batting an eyelid.

“In-fucking-credible.” He rolled his eyes.

“You need to press on. The informant has the best chance of getting you in,” she reasoned, giving pause and contemplating her next choice of words before speaking. “I would suggest not getting too attached to her.”

“I’m not,” Leon deadpanned, despite the look on Hunnigan’s face, like she didn’t believe him.

“At the rate this is going, she may not be around long enough to do her job,” he clarified.

“You know we have a cure for that,” she rebutted. “The girl will be fine.”

He pursed his lips, changing the subject. “Hm, just send me the updates later.”

With that, he shut off his comms device and headed back into the living room, only to be accosted by your snide remark, “Let me guess, another convo that’s classified?”

His mouth twisted into a smirk. “Not quite.”

“Whatever Bergmann has been feeding you is bullshit,” he began. “We’ve been suspecting that the theater is being used as a front for developing a new batch of bioweapons they’re about to ship into the US.”

Your eyes widened at the newfound information. The whole time you had assumed that Silje was just providing a safehouse, not a full-on experimentation chamber. But with the recent events that had occurred, you should have considered it earlier.

“So the labs must be underground.” He thumped the pad of his index finger on the sketchings of the lower levels of the site on the map. “And they’re not just hiding people down there.”

Casting over a solemn glance, he revealed, “I’m telling you this, because you need to be careful.”

“And stop making deals you shouldn’t be making,” he warned.

You let the words sink in. “I see,” you nodded slowly. “Thanks, I… appreciate that.”

“The minute you feel something is off, or your veins start to darken, you contact me straight away and get the hell outta there. Understood?”

“Ok, I will,” you promised.

On the one hand, you were grateful that Leon had the courtesy to inform you about what you were getting into, but on the other, you were scared of what was to come. You had heard about the Terragrigia Panic and the B.O.W.s that devastated the floating city a year ago. The gruesome scenes were splashed across the news for weeks. Would the same happen here?

As if he could read your mind, Leon placed a hand on your shoulder to reassure you. “I won’t let them get you.”

“I trust you.” You said it as if it was clear as day.

His eyes bore into yours and his hand made its way towards your cheek, but stopped short in midair, a hair’s breadth away from touching your skin. Then, it fell to the side as he turned away, like he was ashamed of what had just transpired.

You cleared your throat in awkwardness, trying to recall the next point on the meeting agenda. Ah yes, Till.

Till was a fence you got to know from the parties you frequented. He was a friend of a friend of a… you got the idea. At first, you bought your drugs from his minions in the clubs, but then became a regular client of his the moment you started your informant career.

“As requested, I’ve arranged a meeting with Till.” You grabbed your day bag from the seat you had left it on. “He operates out of a nightclub that has a pretty strict door policy. So you’ll have to look the part.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Which would be?”

You sighed, unsure of how this would go down. “Um, your usual black get-up will do,” you mentioned tentatively. Unzipping your bag, which unveiled a sneak peek of its contents, you peered back at him. Here goes nothing. “So are you a more of a latex or leather kind of guy?”

What you would have given to permanently capture the look of shock on Leon’s face.

“Are you fucking serious?” He blurted out.

Perhaps you should make the decision for him then. Giving him a once over, you identified a common theme with his casual leather jacket and fingerless gloves.

“I’m guessing leather,” you discerned, rummaging through your bag for a studded harness and tossing it over to him.

He caught the chunky material in his hands, looking at it with apprehension whilst shaking his head.

Fishing out a translucent, black crop top, you displayed it in front of Leon as you walked over to him. “Maybe over this and a pair of leather boxers.”

He grimaced. “No.”

Well, he sure wasn’t making your job easy. “I’ll be doing most of the ass-kissing at the door,” you argued. “You just have to wear this and keep your mouth shut.”

Please go along with it, you prayed. There was only so much magic you could pull to get him in at the club door.

Examining the outfit you had picked out for him gingerly, he muttered, “Jesus Christ, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

At least he wasn’t protesting any further.

“I’ll meet you there at 4 in the morning on Sunday,” you reminded him. “You’d better have something substantial to trade with.”

“That’s the least of my concerns right now,” he grumbled, to which you snickered in amusement before departing for the theater.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fluff #re4 leon #re4 remake #resident evil 4 #resident evil #fic: ghosts from the past #porcelainscribbles

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sunflowerrosewood · 4 months

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Take a Bullet For You ~ Mafia! Bucky Barnes

Author's Note: Since my other account @cheekyredwillow got deleted. I am adding some of my favorite fanfictions to this account and revamping this one with new ones. I hope to make an actual list of fandoms I am still a fan of! NO requests for the time being.

On to the one shot! This is a mafia alternative universe

You just moved into the New York area to open your coffee shop under your apartment. You knew it was insane to move into an area where one of the roughest mafia gangs resided. The big mafia leader was named James Barnes nicknamed Bucky the Sniper. You knew all of this but continued to move in and set up shop. You didn’t think he was near.

While you were moving in, Bucky was watching from across the street with his right hand man, Steve. From what he gathered was that you were just a coffee shop owner but he still was intrigued you picked a shitty neighborhood. You seemed confident even though most of your customers would be his mafia.

“Why are we watching her?” Steve asked. “She’s not important to what we need done.”

“She’s interesting.” Bucky said.

“Oh no! Don’t get all lovey dovey on me. She wouldn’t walk two seconds in our direction.” Steve snapped.

You continued to set shop up so you could open in the next few days. You opened the shop two days later and a bulky gruff man was your customer. You figured you’d see sketchy people but not the head of the mafia game. He was wearing all black. Combat boots, leather jacket, tighter jeans.

“Good morning. How may I help you?” You asked, feeling a bit of nervousness settling in.

“Just a cup of black coffee with a spoonful of sugar ma’am.” He said as he put a $20 on the counter.

“Okay let me get your change.”

“Wait. Just keep it. You’re new, arntcha?” The guy said.

“Just moved in a few days ago. I’m Y/n. You must be Bucky the Sniper?” You said putting two and two together.

“You’re not scared?” He asked.

“At first. But you haven’t done anything to make me think worse of you.” You mentioned before pouring his cup of coffee.

“You’re definitely different. Not in a bad way of course.” Bucky said nonchalantly before taking his cup to leave. “I’ll be around Y/n.”

You watched Bucky leave the coffee shop. You knew from this moment that nothing would be the same. You did not think you’d meet the mafia leader so soon but c’est la vie I guess.

But you did not know that you had infiltrated Bucky’s head. For some reason he couldn’t get your e/c eyes filled with wonder. He couldn’t help it. Something about you attracted him. He would tell the rest of the mafia to protect you.

You wouldn’t notice this in the week. An opposing mafia team tried to kidnap you but before they could even act, Bucky’s mafia members got rid of them. What did make you question is a guy asked for your number at the shop within the same week and never called back. But Bucky was always your first and last customer.

It had been a week since this and it was a Thursday night. You were closing up shop when Bucky came in groaning.

“Oh Bucky, I was wondering when y- what happened to you?” You yelled as you heard a few more gunshots.

A blonde haired guy and a dark skinned guy came in. They were panting. The blondie looked at you.

“Do you know first aid?” He asked.

“I d-do.” You stuttered.

“Then get to work.” He snapped.

“Steve, quit scar-scaring her. Just focus on protecting us.” Bucky coughed.

“Bucky is right. She knows what to do. That other mafia will be here shortly.” The dark skinned guy snapped.

“Sam, have any of the others called?” Steve asked.

You quickly ran to the back to grab the first aid kit. As you ran back, Steve and Sam were outside with a few others. Gunshots rang out as you sat by Bucky’s side.

“I need to remove your shirt.” You said softly.

“Already undressing me sweetheart.” Bucky drawled out but took off his shirt.

“Oh shut it.” You snapped but chuckled a bit.

“Good. Keep that smile. I’ll be okay with you.” Bucky said as he placed his hand on your thigh. “After this, we are going to finally have that date.”

“Wh-what?!” You exclaimed before washing his wound.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice my affections.” Bucky teased as you pulled the bullet out that was lodged into his side. “Warn me next time!”

“How about not throwing surprises out?” You said as you grabbed the disinfectant. “Okay this will sting.”

Bucky hissed for a minute as you continued to clean. The gunshots slowed down and finally stopped. You helped Bucky sit up as Steve and Sam came back in.

“We told the others to go home. Do you want us to stay?” Steve asked.

“I’ll be better shortly. I still have to discuss some things with Y/n.” Bucky said as Sam cackled.

“Are you going to quit acting like a lovesick puppy?” Sam cackled. “Hell that bullet was suppose to hit her but you got in the way.”

“What?” You exclaimed.

“I guess that’s our cue to leave.” Steve said as he was pushing Sam out the door.

“So when were you going to tell me that?” You questioned as Bucky shakily stood up. He laughed softly as you saw a warm blush appear on his face.

“I guess I should explain that.” Bucky said. “I was trying not to fall for you. But when I did, the other mafias saw you as a toy or token to me.”

“So you just decided to take the bullet?”

“Aren’t we forgetting the whole “taking you on a date”? I would take any bullet for you to be safe. I have fallen for you.” Bucky explained as your face flushed with heat.

Bucky pulled you into his arms and kissed your cheek. You smiled at him and squeezed his neck for a hug.

“After you heal, you can take me on that date anytime.” You said as you felt him squeeze back.

You felt Bucky chuckle against the hold. You two broke the hug and Bucky began to leave. You felt a piece of paper in your back pocket. It was his number but before you could say anything, Bucky had left.

#marvel au #marvel winter soldier #marvel fluff #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel bucky barnes #marvel bucky barnes x reader #marvel mcu #mcu bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky banes x reader insert #marvel reader insert #marvel headcanons

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izzabela · 13 days

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In the Mafia's Eyes - Lin Kuei Siblings x GN!reader

in which the deadliest mafia group's leader and two brothers have you in their sight

a/n: i was scrolling through and i laid my eyes on the most beautiful fanart EVER, so i asked permission to use it (as you can see, i got permission) BIG UPS TO @moonbay1cn for letting me use their art (i cropped it to fit my blog formats, if you don't mind)

ships: tomas, bi han, kuai liang x GN!reader

warning[s]: mentions of blood, suggested violence, suggestive, you're delusional

p.s. mafia au! the Lin Kuei are based in the U.S. instead of Arctika/China

You should have realized who the men you served were. Every single clue and hint was there, pointing you in the right direction, yet you ignored the obvious flags that waved in your brain.

New York City is insidious: places to be, things to do, dreams to achieve. There's a reason why it's called "the city that doesn't sleep." People are up at all hours of the day and night to do things, and the night was a tad more active than the day. For you, however, the days seemed to blur together. Working at a 24/7 shop isn't rare. What made it rare was that it was a 24/7 tea house/café/eatery.

In the middle of Manhattan.

Upper east side, Manhattan.

In a rundown building that was browner than poop stains and long-deceased rat corpses.

That should have been your first hint.

The building was old, needing constant repairs here and there, yet it was untouched by the most powerful real estate agents, landlords, and other money-grubbing losers that would love to tear the building down to replace it with a painfully sleek and sterile one.

You were grateful for Madame Bo's persistence against this modern era of sad, beige modernness, but were also confused. How did she make so much money to keep them away? And if she had such money, why wouldn't she do the renovations herself? She could easily update the internals and externals of the building if she wanted to.

"Oh dear," she had said, "The charm is in the age of the building."

The second clue to the enigma of the tea house café were the customers.

When you were first hired by Madame Bo, you didn't really notice the patterns of people coming in and out, nor the lackeys that would round the block. Despite how old this building was, it was a popular stop for both the middle class and the privileged snobs residing in the upper east side. Over time, you knew who were regulars and who weren't.

When you worked the day shifts, you made note of four men who would be walking outside the building. On other shifts, they switched it up on you and they were paired with women, posing as couples. However, you knew better than that. Sure, to the untrained eye they would have just been randoms working out, but your gut told you otherwise. They were tall, slightly beefed with muscle, and walked faster than a normal New Yorker- yeah, definitely not normal.

What also peeved you out was the fact you always felt... something on you. You couldn't figure out if it was safety or protection, but what you definitely felt were eyes on you.

It didn't stop there, though.

On the very rare, and desperate, occasions you had a night shift, you kept a mental tab that two people would enter the empty eatery. They would sit on opposite sides of the room, laptops open and untouched. While you didn't judge the work ethics of others, you certainly judged people who had questionable habits of work. Even so, Madame Bo made drinks for them- free of charge!

"My dear," she said to you one fateful night shift, "They do a lot more for us than we know."

The last hint was as obvious as a clown in disguise. Scratch that, it's not even a hint anymore- it's a big red "x marks the spot" on a treasure map. And the "treasure" came in a pack of three hot guys.

Every month since you began working with Madame Bo, three men in luxurious suits and tuxes came to visit the shabby tea house. One of them with gray-colored hair, while the other two matched in black colored hair. You also noted their style of face covering, two of them opting for a face mask while the other remained bare-faced.

Every month without fail, these three men came to visit and sit down for some tea. There were times where they just sat in comfortable silence together, other times they were discussing the mundane in their lives. Most of the time, though, they simply sat together and spoke with Madame Bo, laughing and engaging in hearty conversation.

Every time they spoke with her, you couldn't help but stare at them. Madame Bo and the three mystery men were more different than the poles in a magnetic field, yet they spoke to her with such respect and joy. You thought it was just a rare case of rich people being kind. During a day shift when they visited, you asked Madame Bo for the origins of the three men.

"Oh them? I used to watch them when they were little," she explained to you, Raiden, and Kung Lao, "All three of them are brothers, with Tomas being adopted."

You remembered that you zoned out during the explanation of her ties with them, the only thing you got were their names: Tomas for the ash colored hair, Bi Han to the navy suit, and Kuai Liang in his amber-rust colored suit. As you zoned out, your eyes wandered over to the three.

They were engaged in their own conversation, chuckling quietly as they spoke about their business. While the air within them was pleasant, you felt a bit of fear and excitement. Something about them made you want to straighten up, look presentable, and be on your best behavior. You wanted to give them the best customer service in their lives- actually, maybe more than just "service".

You remembered catching the eyes of Kuai Liang, who briefly looked away from his siblings to catch you staring at them. His gold-black mask covered the bottom half of his face, but the way his eyes wrinkled a bit signaled some sort of smile that lied underneath.

You blushed and turned away, trying to zone back into the conversation with Madame Bo and the other boys you worked with.

"Woah! So like, are they super rich, Madame Bo?" Kung Lao asked innocently.

Madame Bo nodded, stating something about how they own a couple of stores in the upper east side thanks to a family business. You, however, still did not get the memo about who they were until later that day.

This was the answer to your dilemma on who these ferocious and fine men were.

After a night with some of your close friends, you were walking home alone following a sketchy back-path. It was supposed to be a shortcut, provided by the maps app on your phone. However, it died after you forgot to charge it, leaving you wandering the unruly city during its worst. As you walked, you fell into trouble with some sleazy idiots.

You remembered how close they were to you, their alcohol-stained breath and sleazy style of walk. The way they slithered over your shoulder to try and get you to come home with them. Not only were you sober, but willing to fight. You had punched one of them in the nuts to escape, but the grasp of one of the disgusting men was too strong for you.

You remembered four of them surrounding you, and you really thought you'd meet your end in the alley that night. You closed your eyes, but heard gun shots and the sounds of bodies hitting the damp concrete. What once was creepy and dangerous men surrounding you, you found them lying in their own blood, clean shots through the head.

You fell to your knees, threatening to cry, but you saw a familiar color on a suit. Okay, a few familiar colors: gray, navy, and rusty amber. You saw a gloved hand reach out to yours, leading to Bi Han's broad figure. You took it, and he effortlessly brought you to your feet. You noticed his other gloved hand was getting replaced, Kuai Liang replacing the soiled mitten.

Tomas snuck behind you (you didn't even feel him get there) to offer his coat. He gently placed it on your shoulders, his eyes peeking down at your round, doe, startled ones. Despite what happened in front of you, and despite you finally learning who they really were, you weren't afraid.

Each man held something in their eyes that promised you safety, security, and protection. Like a guardian angel, these men made a promise with their eyes to you. A promise saying that no matter where you are, what you're doing, that you'd always be safe.

As the saying goes, "It's in the eyes, chico," and boy they aren't wrong.

=================

It's been a couple of months since that incident, and the games you've played with them and your mind have been infectious. The brother's visits to the café have begun to happen more frequently, they even visit you alone sometimes, which didn't help your brain's delusions.

Every time one of them came to the cafè, you were afraid they would see right through you and into your horny thoughts. Whenever they visited and watched you work, you felt their eyes not leaving you once. It got so bad that you would bring Raiden or Kung Lao to distract you while doing stuff, or simply have Madame Bo make them leave.

Even so, it didn't stop your mind at all.

On the day's Kuai Liang came to the café, his gaze on you was steady and still, like a constant fire during a winter storm. The way he looked at you was full of wanting, desire, and desperation- like he needed you more than oxygen. Your brain imagined that his body was warmer than most, and that he would keep you in a dizzying trance.

Your mind played scenarios in which Kuai Liang would explore every part of you, with no intent of letting you go either. His hands leaving hand-shaped slap marks and bruises, marking every part of you to let the world know that you were his alone to worship. His loyalty to you and your body would leave you overwhelmed, melting under his constant affection and love.

Your mind concluded he'd be a gentleman and a rough lover, and you had to shake the thoughts out before he knew.

When Bi Han came to visit, you didn't have to know it was him at all. While Kuai Liang's presence was warm and welcoming, Bi Han's aura was chill to the bone. Whenever you were working, Bi Han's eyes never left your body. You figured his stares felt more...cold: persistent, chilly, and never-ending. Like a blizzard in the cold tundra of the arctic.

With Bi Han, your mind played vignettes of how he'd take you to bed. He would be rough, not like Kuai Liang. He'd pull your hair, smack your perky behind, and tell you how much of a degenerate you really were- all for him of course. He'd leave hickeys everywhere on your body, a mosaic of pink, purple and red on you to remind you who belonged to who.

Your mind also thinks he'd be great with aftercare. All that rough-housing and such, you needed to calm down and collect yourself. Your brain fills your mind with him putting you in a bath, rubbing your back, shampooing your hair too. He'd whisper "I love you's" in your delusions, peppering each hickey with kisses.

For him, your mind finalized he'd be the roughest of the three, while also caring for your wellbeing post-sex.

Your brain was working in serious overdrive.

Finally, when Tomas came to visit, you always felt sweet with him around. Not only would he stare at you with such love in his eyes, but he'd engage with others around him.

Like a butterfly, he'd go around and spread joy; however, he loved floating around you the most. You found that talking to him was easier than talking to his brothers, so you talked to him about the basics of who you were. When you tried to bring up that night, he told you that it would stay between you four- a private business transaction.

He'd also ask why you spoke to him more, and not his brothers. He assured you that they wouldn't bite, but you simply said it was out of respect.

And to keep your thoughts at bay.

Despite all of this, you weren't fooled by him at all. The way he looked at you, when people weren't present, was filled with a primal hunger, a desire to have you. He was the predator, and you knew damn well that you were his prey- not able to get away from his trapping gaze. His stares were sharp and clear, like a hunter ready for the kill.

And by the elder gods your mind was ready to be hunted.

You imagined his grip on you being tight, like you'd disappear and he'd never find you again. He would be intentional with tour body, exploring every part of you in more depth and detail than his brothers. His touch would make you feel sensitive, flinching at how feathery and flighty his fingers were as he took every part of you for himself.

He'd kiss you like he'd leave forever- full of longing, desperation, and wanting. Your brain thinks he'd need you more than oxygen, that he would love nothing more than to breath your natural scent in like the necessary element.

If Kuai Liang made you dizzy with heat, and Bi Han made you shiver with his chill, then Tomas would have you writhing under him like a poor animal in heat.

You prayed to the elder gods silently, hoping the men wouldn't see your perverse thoughts as they came by the shop.

Unfortunately, your pleas were ignored.

During their monthly visitation, you saw to the brothers yourself and sat them down, took their order, and made their drinks. Tomas took an Earl Gray with a pastry, Kuai Liang with some matcha, and Bi Han with Oolong tea.

You quickly gave their drinks to them, paired with an even quicker "thanks for waiting" and retreated behind the counter.

You watched them only for a bit, your brain playing new scenarios, but you distracted yourself with chores. Deep into them, you didn't even feel them leave until Raiden and Kung Lao tapped your shoulder, money in the latter's and a note in the former's.

"Looks like our prettiest barista got some tip money," Kung Lao teased, "A crisp twenty dolla bill too!"

You gasped, but who could have gifted you with such a generous tip? Raiden hands you a slip of paper, which answers your question and fills your head with more of them.

"Uhh..." he fidgeted nervously, "I am not sure what this means, but it definitely makes me wonder..." he handed the note to you and you flush the deepest shade of red ever.

It's in the eyes, little barista

=====================

once again, big ups to @moonbay1cn for letting me use their beautiful piece of media for this post!

see yall in the next fic ;)

#mortal kombat #kuai liang #tomas vrbada #bi han #mk1 #x reader #tomas x reader #kuai liang x reader #bi han x reader #x you #too much caffeine #my sleep schedule is fucked #brain rot #suggestive

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leeenuu · 1 year

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Streets are flooded in Kherson, Ukraine, Wednesday, June 7, 2023 after the walls of the Kakhovka dam collapsed. Residents of southern Ukraine, some who spent the night on rooftops, braced for a second day of swelling floodwaters on Wednesday as authorities warned that a Dnieper River dam breach would continue to unleash pent-up waters from a giant reservoir. (AP Photo/Libkos)

Russian rockets are launched against Ukraine from Russia's Belgorod region, seen from Kharkiv, Ukraine, late Sunday, June 4, 2023. (AP Photo/Vadim Belikov)

Volunteers evacuate dogs and goats from the flooded city in Kherson, Ukraine, Wednesday, June 7, 2023. Floodwaters from a collapsed dam kept rising in southern Ukraine on Wednesday, forcing hundreds of people to flee their homes in a major emergency operation that brought a dramatic new dimension to the war with Russia, now in its 16th month. (AP Photo/Libkos)

A woman identifying the body of her 34-year-old daughter, who was killed in an overnight missile strike in Kyiv on Thursday, June 1, 2023. (Nicole Tung/The New York Times)

Local resident Tetiana holds her pets, Tsatsa and Chunya, as she stands inside her house that was flooded after the Kakhovka dam blew up overnight, in Kherson, Ukraine, Tuesday, June 6, 2023. Ukraine on Tuesday accused Russian forces of blowing up a major dam and hydroelectric power station in a part of southern Ukraine that Russia controls, risking environmental disaster. (AP Photo/Evgeniy Maloletka)

People look at a fire on the top of residential building following a drone attack, in Kyiv, Ukraine, Saturday, May 20, 2023. Russian air attacks have escalated to near-nightly raids over the last month. The attacks come at night, when most in Kyiv are sound asleep. The sirens wail across the Ukrainian capital, rousing bleary-eyed residents, who, after 15 months of war, have customized individual routines to cope with Russia’s latest air campaign. (AP Photo/Alex Babenko)

Dead fish are seen on the drained bottom of the Nova Kakhovka reservoir after the Nova Kakhovka dam breached in the village of Marianske in Dnipropetrovsk region, Ukraine, Wednesday, June 7, 2023. (REUTERS/Sergiy Chalyi)

Children attend a group therapy class at the recovery camp for children and their mothers affected by the war near Lviv, Ukraine, Wednsday, May 3, 2023. A generation of Ukrainian children have seen their lives upended by Russia's invasion of their country. Hundreds of kids have been killed. For the survivors, the wide-ranging trauma is certain to leave psychological scars that will follow them into adolescence and adulthood. UNICEF says an estimated 1.5 million Ukrainian children are at risk of mental health issues. (AP Photo/Vasilisa Stepanenko)

Police evacuate local residents from a flooded area after the Nova Kakhovka dam breached in Kherson, Wednesday, June 7, 2023 (REUTERS/Ivan Antypenko)

Ukrainian emergency workers wearing radiation protection suits attend training in Zaporizhzhia, Ukraine, Wednesday, June 7, 2023. The Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant, Europe’s biggest, relies in large part on water from the now-emptying reservoir at the Kakhovka dam. The U.N.’s International Atomic Energy Agency reported “no immediate risk to the safety of the plant,” whose six reactors have been shut down for months but still need water for cooling. (AP Photo/Andriy Andriyenko)

#war in ukraine #russian world #i know the last post i made was a month ago #but i honestly had a 'block' bc even if i post these pics what difference does it make?#the ppl who rb are ukrainians and the ppl who know what r*ssia is #the rest just have the luxury not to care #and that pisses me off so bad #im just tired and angry #i want ukraine to win and r*ssia to be sent to mars or wherever so i never have to hear from them again #i want them to fck off once and for all

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 year

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This Brooklyn, New York City firehouse was turned into a duplex with 2 very colorful residences. In 1895 it was a water tower, converted to a firehouse in 1903, and in 1974 it was the live/work for film maker Spike Lee. In the mid-1980s, the building was converted into two duplex loft apartments–and a multi-car garage. It’s currently for sale for $4.35M.

I like that copper ceiling.

See how colorful it is, plus I love the pink. Though legally a two-family dwelling, the entire four-level townhouse–including two mezzanines–is currently being used as a 5,775-square-foot home.

On its main floor, the lower duplex offers an open great room and a colorful and fabulous open kitchen anchored by a solid wood island.

A convenient sleeping area is a perfect guest space.

In the upper duplex, the building’s third floor is suspended between two mezzanines in a loft-like layout.

This airy central space has a kitchen, a dining area, and a living room.

From the dining area, step through a glass block wall and custom sliding door onto the fabulous upper deck.

On the ground floor are two large bedrooms, a living room, and a full bath.

Through an impressive pair of wrought iron gates, a multi-car garage is a rare perk in the city.

https://www.6sqft.com/from-firehouse-to-spike-lees-movie-hq-this-4-35m-fort-greene-home-has-a-century-of-stories-to-tell/

#fireplace conversion #houses #house tours #home tour

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leviathan-supersystem · 1 year

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A looming Supreme Court decision could end up making it easier for the railroad giant whose train derailed in Ohio this month to block lawsuits, including from victims of the disaster. In the case against Norfolk Southern, the Biden administration is siding with the railroad in its conflict with a cancer-stricken former rail worker. A high court ruling for Norfolk Southern could create a national precedent limiting where workers and consumers can bring cases against corporations. The lawsuit in question, filed initially in a Pennsylvania county court in 2017, deals with a state law that permits plaintiffs to file suit against any corporation registered to do business there, even if the actions that gave rise to the case occurred elsewhere. In its fight against the lawsuit, Norfolk Southern is asking the Supreme Court to uphold the lower court ruling, overturn Pennsylvania’s law, and restrict where corporations can be sued, upending centuries of precedent. Oral arguments in the case were held last fall, and a ruling is expected from the Supreme Court in the coming months. If the court rules in favor of Norfolk Southern, it could overturn plaintiff-friendly laws on the books in states including Pennsylvania, New York, and Georgia that give workers and consumers more leeway to choose where they take corporations to court — an advantage national corporations already enjoy, as they often require customers and employees to agree to file litigation in specific locales whose laws make it harder to hold companies accountable. Limiting lawsuits is exactly what the American Association of Railroads (AAR), the industry’s primary lobbying group, wants. The organization filed a brief on the side of Norfolk Southern in the case, arguing that a ruling in favor of the plaintiff would open up railroads to more litigation. It is also apparently what the Biden administration wants — the Justice Department filed its own brief in favor of Norfolk Southern. Should Norfolk Southern prevail, the company could use the ruling to challenge other lawsuits on the grounds that they’re filed in the wrong venue, said Scott Nelson, an attorney with the Public Citizen Litigation Group, which filed a brief backing the plaintiff in the Pennsylvania case. Such a decision could affect lawsuits filed by residents exposed to hazardous chemicals as the result of accidents in other states — such as the East Palestine, Ohio, derailment disaster, which occurred five miles west of the Pennsylvania state line. “[Norfolk Southern] might say, ‘You can only sue us in Ohio or Virginia [where Norfolk Southern is headquartered],’ even if you were injured at your home in Pennsylvania from an accident that took place five miles away in Ohio,” Nelson said.

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lamaisongaga · 9 days

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FASHION CREDITS: JAZZ & PIANO SHOW 4.0

Lady Gaga made a triumphant return to Las Vegas where she'll be staying until July to complete another round of her highly sought-after Jazz & Piano residency shows! And of course, she brought a whole new batch of costumes styled by Sandra Amador and Tom Eerebout along with her.

Makeup by Sarah Tanno-Stewart using custom 3D lashes by Face Lace.

First, we‘re hopping onto our virtual plane where I‘ll be taking you to Marbella, Spain to once again meet with young fashion designer Adrián Manceras who‘s kind enough to let us take a look in his atelier where he crafted Gaga‘s opening number: a fabulous cocktail dress showered in champagne sequins, finest crystals and delicate fringe trimmings!

I can‘t help but notice how Gaga sticks to the same designer when it comes to the opening number‘s look. From headpiece down to the shoes. Yet, she changes the design every time she comes back to Vegas.

Here, she‘s donning yet another insane showgirl-inspired headdress with turkey feathers and Swarovski crystals by the ever-so talented Arturo Rios who sent me this image JUST for your eyes!

The Italian-American entertainer topped her look off with a new custom pair of Laruicci crystal statement earrings

Her favorite Jimmy Choo metallic silver Anouk stiletto pumps provided the finishing touches.

The choice of purple was as unexpected as the combination of sequins, feathers (provided by Mother Plucker Feather Company), and PVC. Yet, this look struck me the most, standing out in a sea of bold fashion statements!

Delving into La Maison Gaga reveals an intriguing history behind her glamorous wardrobe. LA-based designer Michael Costello has been crafting stunning caftans for Gaga for a decade. His journey with her began in 2014 when he designed a sequined piece similar to this one for her "Cheek to Cheek! Live" performance . This collaboration marked the start of a creative partnership that has since produced numerous iconic looks, each more dazzling than the last.

Michael also collaborated with Gladys Tamez Millinery on the halo-like black feather pillbox headpiece!

New York City-based heritage jewelry brand A.JAFFE created some of the earrings, including these teardrop stunners!

Gaga surprised her audience last night with a special rendition of "Americano". It‘s been 12 years since she performed that song!

For this act of the show, Perry Meek whipped out a stunning dress even Jessica Rabbit wouldn't pass upon.

Crafted from red crystal mesh, this dress features an off-the-shoulder hourglass silhouette, trimmed with red ostrich feathers. And it comes with a matching coat!

Her Harriet wired red feather fascinator is a hand-made piece by Carrie Jenkinson Millinery ($331.79), one of the UK's leading fashion milliners.

This white-gold crescent earring set surrounded by differently cut diamonds is another A.JAFFE design.

And I hope I’m not the only one who‘s drooling over these Jimmy Choo Romy crystal-encrusted red pumps.

Eat your heart out, Dorothy!

Then, Gaga stuns on stage in a total Giorgio Armani look which comprises this plush black velvet strapless bustier column dress with crystal band embellishment ($4,777) and the Fall/Winter 2018 Privé Haute Couture pink ostrich feather coat she previously wore for her V Magazine 2019 cover!

LG debuted a bunch of new looks on her second night and the uber-talented Michael Costello had another wonder up his sleeve when he revealed this stunner to me yesterday morning - a custom sparkly black and gold sequin silk chiffon caftan with incorporated metal belt, shoulder pads, plunging neck and daring open sides, based on Michael's upcoming "DNA" collection!

He also created her matching custom ruched faux leather gloves and feather boa in collaboration with Mother Plucker Feather Company.

What's a good jazz stage look without a fun plummeted hat to top it off? British milliner Carrie Jenkinson Millinery made sure to exceed stagewear standards with her Spring/Summer 2024 Selina feather hat (£520).

Her go-to performance shoes: the timeless Jimmy Choo Anouk black patent leather pumps ($675).

Malaysian couture design house Rizman Ruzaini joined the game by crafting a show-stopping red chiffon cape dress showered in Swarovski crystals. Thanks so much for these exclusive behind-the-seams photos!

She also brought back her Larisa Barrera vintage 1993 crystal necklace from The Way We Wore.

Gaga gave us an epic performance of "La Vie En Rose", dressed in rose silk satin caftan-style layered dress with stripped coque feathers, custom-made for her by Ukrainian fashion label Santa Brands.

This look was completed with a bunch of stellar accessories, including the Carrie Jenkinson Millinery Spring/Summer 2024 Valencia exploding feather fascinator (£579)...

...the Swarovski Millenia octagon-cut crystal bib necklace...

... and the Cornelia James Melissa opera-length black velvet gloves (£160).

If the dress from the third night's opening seems familiar to you, it's because she's worn this custom Natali Germanotta x Debra Cooper blue sequin fringed cocktail number back in 2019 before!

This look got a black version of the aforementioned Arturo Rios turkey feather and Swarovski crystal headpiece.

It‘s Michael Costello‘s world and we‘re just living in it! His third custom dress for our girl's third night is this uuuuuultra sexy black satin number with one-shoulder caftan silhouette, trimmed with luxurious ostrich feathers by Mother Plucker Feather Company and featuring beaded appliqués on the shoulder and waist.

It was finished off with this vintage Philip Treacy 1996 black feather firework headpiece which has already been previously worn by Gaga back in London in 2015!

The same night, Lady Gaga left tongues wagging as she entered the stage in a bespoke Michael Costello fuchsia pleated cape gown with bejeweled neck and matching belt.

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sterek8nights · 7 months

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Our Future In These Photographs

Another Hanukkah fic!

For the Sterek8Nights Bingo squares: gift exchange, combining, family

on ao3 here

Please check out the prompts and the bingo card and join me in Hanukkah-ing Sterek!

____

Derek looked around the store forlornly. Nothing here was right, and he was starting to panic. Hanukkah started in three days, and he still didn’t have anything for Stiles.

So, he did what he usually did when he had a problem he needed help with and he couldn’t call Stiles: he called Stiles’ dad, and texted Boyd.

“Still can’t think of what to get him, huh?” John answered in lieu of a greeting, and Derek groaned. The man may be the actual Sheriff, and his kind of father-in-law, but it was often irritating how much he noticed.

“No. And I am this close to just giving him my credit card and setting him lose at that little occult shop on Denton that has the actual magic stuff in the basement,” Derek not-quite whined.

John chuckles, and even though Derek’s annoyed, the sound is comforting in its familiarity. “As much as he’d enjoy that, I’m not sure that your bank account, or his bookshelves, really need to take that hit, son.”

It’s Derek’s turn to laugh then. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

That’s when he sees it, tucked under a little stack of sweaters, clearly discarded by a customer that couldn’t be bothered to return it to its proper place. A silver picture frame with intricate designs set into the metal. Derek snatches it up and says a hasty goodbye to John, citing an epiphany and barely catching the “Good luck, kid,” that he tacks on before Derek hangs up and shoves his phone into his pocket.

After a quick stop at his family’s vault, and another to the Stilinksi residence, he rushes home, glad to beat Stiles there, and hurries to his office to wrap his gifts.

***

The first night of Hanukkah is spent with John at his house, with just the three of them, starting the week off with a relative calm before various combinations of friends and co-workers, and the pack all invade Derek and Stiles’ house for the other days.

After lighting the menorah, and eating the latkes they had all made together, they head to the living room to exchange gifts, Derek and Stiles give John a trip for the three of them to see the Mets and a stay in a really nice hotel for a few days. He tries to protest, but Stiles has already arranged the time off for him, so he hugs them both and starts talking about what else they can do while they’re in New York.

John commits to what he insists are “traditional Hanukkah gifts”, and gives them both packages of novelty socks and matching t-shirts with photo realistic wolves howling at the moon on the front. Stiles cackles and hugs his dad even as he complains about not being a kid anymore, but John waves his protests off. “You know how this works, kid. Socks are tradition! I just picked a package at random, you could’ve just as easily gotten an art kit, or something surprising!” he defends with a smirk, knowing that they all not-so-secretly find it hilarious to get three or four nights of “useful” presents amid all the rest.

“At least it’s not underwear,” Derek jokes, only for Stiles to look him in the eye and waggle his eyebrows in a way that never fails to make Derek feel fond, even though it’s objectively ridiculous.

“Maybe not from dad,” Stiles replies, making Derek blush, eyes darting furiously to John, and then back to Stiles.

John groans, loud and long-suffering. “That’s more than I need to know, son,” he complains good naturedly, tossing the balled-up wrapping paper from his gift at Stiles and hitting him square on the nose. After a few moments of shared laughter and a brief wrapping paper war, John announces it’s time for the two of them to exchange their gifts.

Stiles scrambles to grab his box, wrapped in shimmery blue and surprisingly heavy for its size when Stiles sets it in Derek’s hand. He watches expectantly as Derek unwraps it carefully. Inside the box are two stones; one is about half the size of Derek’s palm, the other is quarter-sized and on a necklace, they’re both practically glowing, and Derek realizes it’s the same shimmer the wrapping paper had.

“They carry the most powerful protection spell I could find,” Stiles explains. “The big one, you bury in your yard and it will keep the house and a good amount of the surrounding forest safe. The small one you wear,” he says, wrapping his hands around Derek’s. “As a bonus feature, if you hold the pendant, it sends a little buzz to me through my spark, so you can tell me you’re thinking of me, or hold it longer, and it’s like the Bat-signal signal.”

Derek manages a slightly awed smile as he looks up at Stiles from where he was watched they tangled hands, and a “I love it, thank you,” that’s a little more choked up than he’d like to admit before Stiles pulls him close for a brief, chaste kiss.

“You’re welcome. Happy Hanukkah, Der,” Stiles says into the small space between them. “Now where’s mine?” he asks with mock-seriousness, successfully resetting the mood.

Derek scoffs and rolls his eyes, as is expected of him, and carefully hands Stiles his meticulously wrapped box.

Stiles is not a careful-unwrapper, but he takes his time with this one, maybe he picked up on Derek and John’s excitement.

When the wrapping paper is off, Stiles looks between Derek and John quizzically, his fingers hovering over the edges of the outer box. “What did you two do?” Stiles asks, eyes narrowing.

John puts both hands up in a calming gesture, but Derek barks out an anxious “Open it,” and then immediately regrets it when they both look at him like he’s lost his mind. Derek huffs out a laugh and ruffles his own hair. “Sorry. I was really anxious about what to get you; your dad helped when I figured it out.”

Stiles grins wide. He loves that his dad and his boyfriend get along so well. He is also insanely curious about what’s in the box.

He lifts the lid off the box and runs delicate fingers over the tissue paper folded over the contents, peeling it away slowly. Once it’s out of the way, Stiles gasps, a hand flying to his mouth.

Inside the box are two not-quite identical silver frames.

In one, is a picture of Stiles, John, Derek, Cora, and Peter with the rest of the pack, on the giant porch at Stiles and Derek’s house. In the other, is a similar picture, except it’s on the porch at the old Hale house, and the pack in the picture is Derek’s family. Derek is maybe three years old, Peter barely a teenager, and Cora and Stiles are technically there, too, because in the middle of the photograph are Talia and Claudia, both very pregnant, with their arms thrown around each other. John is on the other side of Stiles’ mom, absolutely beaming at the camera.

Stiles looks up at Derek and his dad, eyes wet with unshed tears. He knew that his parents were friends with the Hales, had seen the occasional photo – mostly in boxes of his mother’s things in the attic – but he’d never seen this specific picture before, never a picture of him and Derek together, because the Hales had distanced themselves when John got promoted at the Sheriff’s department, not wanting him to have to lie about the supernatural in any official capacity, so they’d missed out on being in each other’s lives until they met again as teenagers.

“Der,” Stiles whispers, tracing the edges of the frames.

“I found that frame, the newer one, and I remembered a similar one from the vault that I’d seen years ago. With that picture. It, uh. It didn’t mean anything at the time, it was so long ago, but I brought it here, and your dad told me a little about that time–”

“There’s an envelope in the box, with some things your moms both wrote, and some I wrote out,” John interrupts gently. Derek nods at him gratefully.

Stiles has the envelope out and open before his dad finishes speaking, not exactly reading, more just tracing the shape of his mom’s handwriting, taking in the curl of Talia’s and John’s neat, tight lettering. He looks up again, carefully placing the precious papers back in the box, and half launching-half falling into Derek’s arms. Derek wraps his arms around Stiles without having to think about it.

“I love you,” Stiles says into Derek’s neck.

“I love you, too,” Derek replies mostly into Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles spreads out one arm towards his dad and waves his hand around. “Come here, Pops, get in on this family hug STAT,” he demands, slightly muffled from how he hasn’t quite turned his head out of Derek’s neck. John obliges with minimal grunting and groaning about being too old to be on the floor, and Derek and Stiles tug him into the hug, all of them a little sniffly. “Love you, dad. Thank you.”

“Aw, hell, kid, I love you, too,” John replies, “Have I told you recently that you did alright with picking that Hale kid to marry?” he teases.

“We’re not married, dad.”

“Yet,” Derek corrects, and Stiles pulls away quickly, only managing to avoid whacking Derek and his dad with his head because of Derek’s reflexes.

“Yet?!” he squwaks. When Derek only shrugs, he adds “Derek Hale, if you are planning on making me cry again this Hanukkah, I am going to be so mad at you.”

John laughs, knowing full well that Stiles has a ring and a whole plan for sometime before New Year’s. Derek though? Derek pulls Stiles back in, says “I promise, no more crying presents,” and wracks his brain for what to get for Stiles for the next seven nights.

Maybe he can move up his proposal plan?

#sterek fic #eternalsterek #sterek8nights #sterek event #sterek prompt #sterek bingo #sterek holidays

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homomenhommes · 5 days

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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … June 24

1730 – Amsterdam: Five men who had been found guilty of sodomy two days earlier are executed. Pietr Marteyn, Janes Sohn, and Johannes Keep are strangled and burned. Maurits van Eeden and Cornelis Boes are drowned in a barrel of water.

1850 – Horatio Kitchener, the 1st Earl Kitchener of Khartoum and British field marshal was born on this date (d.1916). Brits howled in outrage at the publication of Douglas Plummer's Queer People, a general history of homosexuality that sought to prove to the English people that Gayness was not limited to Oscar Wilde and a few assorted French couturiers. The book named names, among them, Kitchener, one of the great heroes of English Imperialism.

The proponents of the case point to Kitchener's friend Captain Oswald Fitzgerald, his "constant and inseparable companion," whom he appointed his aide-de-camp. They remained close until they met a common death on their voyage to Russia. From his time in Egypt in 1892, he gathered around him a cadre of eager young and unmarried officers nicknamed "Kitchener's band of boys." He also avoided interviews with women, took a great deal of interest in the Boy Scout movement, and decorated his rose garden with four pairs of sculptured bronze boys. According to one biographer, "there is no evidence that he ever loved a woman."

A contemporary journalist remarked that Kitchener "has the failing acquired by most of the Egyptian officers, a taste for buggery". J. B. Priestley noted in his book on "The Edwardians" that one of Lord Kitchener's personal interests in life included planning and decorating his residences. He was also known to collect delicate china with a passion (such allusions to an 'artistic temperament' were a common code for implying homosexuality at that time).

In Canada, in a surge of patriotism in 1916, in the middle of WWI, the town of Berlin, Ontario, even with strong German ties among its populace, voted to change the name to Kitchener. The British general had receently died.

1901 – The American composer and instrument builder Harry Partch, was born on this date (d.1974). Partch was one of the first twentieth-century composers to work extensively and systematically with microtonal scales, writing much of his music for custom-made instruments he built himself.

It is said that Partch was sterile, probably due to childhood mumps. Although he seemed to consider himself bisexual, most of Partch's loving relationships were with men, including with the actor Ramón Samaniego.

Samaniego is better known as the actor Ramón Novarro. This affair occurred in Partch's youth, while he was working as an usher for the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Samaniego/Novarro broke off the affair when he started to become successful in his acting career.

Partch supported himself during in his youth doing a variety of jobs, including teaching piano, proofreading, and working as a sailor. Under the pseudonym Paul Pirate, he wrote pop songs which he tried to sell to publishers; for a time, he wrote a song daily. Only "My Heart Keeps Beating Time" (1929) found a publisher, and is the only of these songs to survive. In New Orleans in 1930, he decided to break with the European tradition in music entirely, and burned all his earlier scores in a potbelly stove.

In 1934, The Carnegie Corporation of New York granted him $1500 so he could do research in England. He gave readings at the British Museum and travelled in Europe. He met W. B. Yeats in Dublin, whose translation of Sophocles' King Oedipus he wanted to set to his music; he studied the spoken inflection in Yeats's recitation of the text. He built a keyboard instrument, the Chromatic Organ, which used a scale with forty-three tones to the octave. He met musicologist Kathleen Schlesinger, who had recreated an ancient Greek kithara from images she found on a vase at the British Museum. Partch made sketches of the instrument in her home, and discussed ancient Greek music theory with her.

Partch returned to the U.S. in 1935 at the height of the Great Depression, and spent a transient nine years, often as a hobo, often picking up work or obtaining grants from organizations such as the Federal Writers' Project.

He kept a journal which was published posthumously as Bitter Music. Partch included notation on the speech inflections of people he met in his travels. He continued to compose music, build instruments, and develop his theories, and make his first recordings.

After taking some woodworking courses in 1938, he built his first Kithara at Big Sur, California, at a scale of roughly twice the size of Schlesinger's. In 1942 in Chicago, he built his Chromelodeon–a 43-tone reed organ.

He had a disdain for the "gay liberation" bandwagon when it reached him in the–and his– seventies. For Partch, his homosexuality was a purely personal concern, not political. "Coming out" seemed to him less an avowal of personal liberty than a political alignment, as well as falsely assuming a "fixed sexual identity that could be confidently declared in public."

1919 – Michael Schofield was at the centre of British social reform in the 1960s and 70s, well known in law pressure groups and, in his quiet way, a figure of considerable influence through his books, reports and articles. He produced pioneering work about gay people, and his best-known book was the Sexual Behaviour of Young People (1965).

His first book, Society and the Homosexual (1952), was published under the pen-name Gordon Westwood, since homosexuality was then a criminal offence. It was the first non-medical book on homosexuality, a thorough study of its social aspects much quoted by journalists, politicians and sociologists during the discussions that led up to the Wolfenden report (1957), whose recommendations that homosexual acts be legalised came into effect 10 years later.

Born in Leeds, Schofield was the fourth child of a large, happy family. He obtained a degree in psychology at Cambridge University, where he also led and played the saxophone with the Footlights dance band. After spending six years as a fighter pilot in the RAF (1940-46), he went to Harvard Business School, expecting that he would join his brothers in the family business, Schofields, the well-known department store in Leeds. But after two years in the firm, he left. Part of his personality, he realised, was at odds with his conventional middle-class upbringing; it puzzled him that people found it so hard to accept his homosexuality.

This was the start of his career as a researcher and writer on sociological subjects. In 1960, another book, A Minority, was the first detailed research into the lives of homosexuals who had had no trouble with the law and who had not felt the need for medical treatment.

He campaigned to make contraceptives free on the NHS, and on behalf of the Abortion Law Reform Association. An early supporter of frank sex education, gay rights and a more tolerant attitude to marital infidelity, in the 60s and 70s he was often to be found opposing the current standards.

He retired in 1982 to spend his remaining years in private life with his partner Anthony Skyme. He died in 2014.

1973 – The Tragedy of the UpStairs Lounge in New Orleans: (adapted from Eric Ose's blog post at the Huffington Post)

On the last Sunday in June, 1973, a gay bar in New Orleans called the UpStairs Lounge was firebombed. The resulting blaze killed 32 people. At the time, the bar served as the home for a fledgling New Orleans congregation of the Metropolitan Community Church. Founded in Los Angeles in 1968, MCC was the nation's first gay-welcoming and affirming church.

The Upstairs Lounge firebombing was the third fire at a MCC church during the first half of 1973 and the church's Los Angeles headquarters was destroyed in January. That Sunday was the final day of Pride Weekend and the fourth anniversary of the Stonewall Uprising of 1969. There was no Gay Pride Parade in New Orleans in 1973 as gay life in the Crescent City remained mostly underground.

The Upstairs Lounge had one entrance up a wooden flight of stairs. After a day of festivities, there were 60 people left in the bar, mostly members of the congregation. Members had prayed and sung in the bar and every Sunday night they gathered around the piano for a song they had adopted as their anthem, "United We Stand," by The Brotherhood of Man.

They sang the song that evening, with David Gary on the piano, a pianist who played regularly in the lounge of the Marriott Hotel across the street. The congregation members repeated the verses again and again, swaying back and forth, arm in arm, happy to be together at their former place of worship on Pride Sunday, still feeling the effects of the free beer special.

Around 8 pm a buzzer from downstairs sounded, the one that signaled a cab had arrived. No one had called a cab, but when someone opened the second floor steel door to the stairwell, flames rushed in. An arsonist had deliberately set the wooden stairs ablaze, and the oxygen starved fire exploded. The still-crowded bar became an inferno within seconds.

The emergency exit was not marked, and the windows were boarded up or covered with iron bars. A few survivors managed to make it through, and jumped to the sidewalks, some in flames. Rev. http://www.canadiangay.org/GHist/May/09.html, the local MCC pastor, got stuck halfway and burned to death wedged in a window, his corpse visible throughout the next day to witnesses below.

Bartender Buddy Rasmussen led a group of fifteen to safety through the unmarked back door. One of them was MCC assistant pastor George "Mitch" Mitchell. Then Mitch ran back into the burning building trying to save his partner, Louis Broussard. Their bodies were discovered lying together.

29 lives were lost that night, and another three victims later died of injuries from the fire. The death toll was the worst in New Orleans history up to that time, including when the French Quarter burned to the ground in 1788. It was almost assuredly the largest mass murder of gays and lesbians to ever occur in the United States.

Yet the city tried mightily to ignore it. Public reaction was grossly out of proportion to what would have happened if the victims were straight. The fire exposed an ugly streak of homophobia and bigotry. It was the first time New Orleans had to openly confront the existence of its own gay community, and the results were not pretty.

Initial news coverage omitted mention that the fire had anything to do with gays, despite the fact that a gay church in a gay bar had been torched. What stories did appear used dehumanizing language to paint the scene, with stories in the States-Item, New Orleans' afternoon paper, describing "bodies stacked up like pancakes," and that "in one corner, workers stood knee deep in bodies...the heat had been so intense, many were cooked together." Other reports spoke of "mass charred flesh" and victims who were "literally cooked."The press ran quotes from one cab driver who said, "I hope the fire burned their dress off," and a local woman who claimed "the Lord had something to do with this." The fire disappeared from headlines after the second day.

A joke made the rounds and was repeated by talk radio hosts asking, "What will they bury the ashes of queers in? Fruit jars." Official statements by police were similarly offensive. Major Henry Morris, chief detective of the New Orleans Police Department, dismissed the importance of the investigation in an interview with the States-Item. Asked about identifying the victims, he said, "We don't even know these papers belonged to the people we found them on. Some thieves hung out there, and you know this was a queer bar."

In the days that followed, other churches refused to allow survivors to hold a memorial service for the victims on their premises. Catholics, Lutherans, and Baptists all said no.

William "Father Bill" Richardson, the closeted rector of St. George's Episcopal Church, agreed to allow a small prayer service to be held on Monday evening. It was advertised only by word of mouth and drew about 80 mourners. The next day, Richardson was rebuked by Iveson Noland, the Episcopalian bishop of New Orleans, who forbade him to let the church be used again. Bishop Nolan said he had received over 100 angry phone calls from local parishioners, and Richardson's mailbox would later fill with hate letters.

Eventually, two ministers offered their sanctuaries - a Unitarian church, and St. Mark's United Methodist Church in the French Quarter. It was here that a July 1 memorial service was held attended by 250 people, including the Louisiana's United Methodist bishop, Finis Crutchfield, who would die of AIDS fourteen years later at the age of 70.

Although called on to do so, no elected officials in all of Louisiana issued statements of sympathy or mourning. Even more stunning, some families refused to claim the bodies of their dead sons, too ashamed to admit they might be gay. The city would not release the remains of four unidentified persons for burial by the surviving MCC congregation members. They were dumped in mass graves at Potter's Field, New Orleans' pauper cemetery.

No one was ever charged with the crime, and it remains unsolved.

1976 – Gay activist Stuart Russell, along with four others, are fired from COJO (Olympic organizing committee) in Montreal for political activity and sexual orientation.

1977 – Kristian Digby (d.2010) was an English television presenter and director who was best known for presenting To Buy or Not to Buy on BBC One.

Kristian Digby was born in Torquay, Devon to a family of property developers. In 1997, Digby's film Words of Deception won him a Junior BAFTA. The following year, his film Last Train to Demise which featured actress and model Lucy Perkins, won the Melbourne Film Festival Award for Best Student Film.

Kristian Digby started his television presenting career for ITV presenting Nightlife. At around the same time, he directed television programmes Homefront, Fantasy Rooms, She's Gotta Have It which also featured actress and model Lucy Perkins, Girls On Top and The O-Zone. In 2001, Digby presented That Gay Show on BBC Choice (now BBC Three).

In 2006 he appeared in Simon Fanshawe's The Trouble with Gay Men and bemoaned the lack of gay role models and how he refused to camp it up on TV - although his presenting was often characterised by a playful campiness. In the September 2006 edition of AXM he appeared nude for charity.

Kristian Digby was patron of gay youth homeless charity the Albert Kennedy Trust. He was also open about his struggles with dyslexia, which created problems for him at school and in the early days of his television career, so severe were his difficulties with reading and writing.

Kristian Digby was discovered dead in his London flat early on 1 March 2010. Police have initially described the circumstances surrounding his death as 'unexplained'. He was just 32.

His body was found by a neighbour when a friend became concerned that he could not contact him. Police sources said that they believe he died in a solo sex game which went tragically wrong. A belt and a bag were taken away for examination by officers, they told the Daily Mail. There are no suggestions his death was suicide. A first post-mortem on his body was 'inconclusive' according to a Metropolitan Police spokesman, and further tests were awaited. His inquest opened on 4 March 2010 at Walthamstow Coroner's Court; both his parents attended. The inquest was adjourned later the same day.

Cuomo signs same-sex marriage bill

2011 – Albany, New York – Lawmakers voted late Friday 24, 2011, to legalize same-sex marriage, making New York the largest state where gay and lesbian couples will be able to wed and giving the national gay-rights movement new momentum from the state where it was born.

The marriage bill, whose fate was uncertain until moments before the vote, was approved 33 to 29 in a packed but hushed Senate chamber. Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo of New York signed the same-sex marriage bill into law late Friday in his office at the State Capitol.

2016 – President Barack Obama announces the designation of the first national monument to lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender rights. The Stonewall National Monument encompasses Christopher Park, the Stonewall Inn and the surrounding streets and sidewalks that were the sites of the 1969 Stonewall uprising.

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beeblelady · 5 months

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Mary Colette Fontaine (Andrew's Listener)

Full Name: Mary Colette Fontaine

Nickname(s): May, Coco, Darling (By Andrew)

Birthday: August 27 / Virgo

Age: Early 20s

Birthplace: Liverpool, England

Parents Names: Edwyn and Grace Fontaine

Parents Occupation: Owner of a Large Fashion Label

Former Residence(s): Liverpool, England (4 Years), New York, USA (16 Years)

Current Residence: London, England

Living With: Andrew Marston

Right or Left-Handed?: Right-Handed

Words/Phrases: "Ummm.", "Sure."

Habits: Tapping Objects When Nervous

Appearance

Height: 4'11

Weight: Secret

Skin Tone: Fair

Body Shape: Hourglass

Hair: Blonde and Wavy

Eyes: Green

Face Shape: Round

Everyday Dress Style: Academia (Anything in Particular such as Light and Romantic), Skirts, Button Up Shirts, Ballet Flats

Formal Dress Style: Dresses and Hair Barrettes, Flat Shoes

Any Jewellery: Emerald Choker and A Custom Made Necklace Andrew Gave Her, Silver Star Earrings

Facts About Mary

Mary's parents are very famous, but Mary wants to keep it low profile and wants to be seen as a normal person

Mary is a fan of old literature and especially Jane Austen books (Her Favorite is Pride & Prejudice)

Mary has friends from New York who still keeps in touch with her and visits her in occasions their names are Lina Holt, Brian Roffe, Honey Kennedy and Abigail Jennings

Her friends gave her a Collection of Butterfly Hair Pins before she leaves for college.

Originally, Mary plans to go to college to NYU with her friends but she got rejected. Her other plan is to study in London and That's where her journey starts.

Mary had interacted with Bernadette (Isaac's Listener) considering they were friends but drifted away as year passes by.

The Emerald Pearl Choker was a family heirloom but stops wearing it as years passes.

During her spare time, Mary would do hobbies she loves like painting, knitting, practicing ballet, writing and reading

Unfortunately, she has a strained relationship with her father and she already knows that her father is very hostile towards Andrew. (Hopefully it gets resolved)

Her Favorite shows are Gilmore Girls, The Crown and Cheers.

Her Favorite Film is definitely Shark Tale without a doubt

Favorite Singers and Artists are AG!, The Beatles, Anything Easy Listening Singers

Favorite Music Genre: Classic Rock and Easy Listening

Favorite Candy are KitKat and Candy Floss

Her Favorite Beatle is George Harrison

She drinks Affogato and Bubble Tea for relaxing.

Before meeting Andrew, Mary never dated anyone and her life in New York she's more of a third wheel on dates.

Andrew is her first. 😉

She owns an old vintage camera to capture memories as she discovers "Anemoia"

When she's depressed she drinks alcohol.

Her Possible Careers can be an aspiring Author or Curator.

Mary is a bit homesick and misses New York, but she does receive presents from her friends from time to time.

She says the things she misses about New York is shopping at Macy's and getting her birthday cake at Magnolia Bakery.

Her Favorite AG! Member is Mizyu

Mary cannot stand Coriander.

Her worst fear is being alone.

Mary does not like confrontation but if someone wants to confront Andrew it's different.

She does sometimes wears Andrew's glasses as she would playfully tease him.

Mary and her best friend Honey have matching friendship Bracelets.

Mary is Bipolar

#zsakuva #sakuverse #andrew x listener #andrew marston #dianna agron #Spotify #mary colette fontaine #andrew zsakuva #zsakuva andrew #andrew x mary

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doctorguilty · 11 months

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Product Recall of Produce and Fresh Items at Stop & Shop (July 21, 2023)

Stores affected are located in New York, Connecticut, and New Jersey (USA) If you reside in any of these states, please click this link for a comprehensive list of exact store locations.

"The product recall is because the items were potentially stored at temperatures that were too high at C&S Wholesale Grocers’ distribution center. Customers who purchased these impacted products should discard any unused portions and bring their receipt to the store for a full refund."

Click this link for a comprehensive list of all recalled products.

I would like to note is is NOT standard leafy greens and fruits etc, this is cold packaged items you'd find in the refrigerated section near salads and the likes, such as tofu, guacamole & dips, kombucha, salad dressings, vegetarian/vegan meat substitutes, vegan cheeses, juices, and more, so please check the list if you're in the affected areas and you buy ANYTHING from that section (or anything temperature sensitive, just in case!!) to see if it's on the recall list.

(Source)

#seth speaks #food recall #food safety #recall #product recall #connecticut #new jersey #new york

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pattysplaceofplaces · 2 years

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CARMEN X FEM READE PLS OLS PLS PLS THANKS BYE

-anonysnuts

The Red in Blue Star Cafe

Classic Carmen Sandiego x Fem Reader

[Author’s Note: You decided not to be specific and I’m using that to my advantage. Enjoy! 💗]

“Alright gumshoes!” Both the siblings took a moment to steady themselves from the sudden teleportation to ACME headquarters from their comfortable homes. “We have a big problem!” Ivy sighed, shaking her head with a hand on her forehead. “Oh no…What did Carmen steal this time?”

“That’s the problem!” Chief screamed causing Zack to lightly flinch. “She hasn’t stolen anything in weeks! She could be planning something big! There’s been a change in her routine for the last three weeks she’s stopped at a cafe in New York without fail every morning.”

“It could be a Trojan Horse.” Ivy suggested. “Player, C-five us to that cafe!” A bluish glow filled the room as the Zack and Ivy ran through the portal.

You peaked into the dining room from the kitchen, scan the area for someone specific.

…

There she was!

The mysterious woman became the best part of your shifts. She enjoyed a black coffee with little sugar and preferred the booth near the table close to the top left corner. She usually read a love story along with her coffee yet not any love stories. Sapphic ones. You couldn’t help but admire her boldness, you rarely told others your sexuality in fear of how you would be treated. Maybe things would be better in the future, to see people like yourself on tv without being the butt of any jokes.

Shaking off your thoughts you go up to the woman in red who patiently resided in the waiting area. Another reason why you enjoyed her company so much. You had to deal with crying babies, flirtatious old men, and that one woman who always wanted to speak to the manager. You got yelled at for the smallest mistakes yet this woman was a breath of fresh air.

“Welcome back Carmen!” You don’t have to put on your customer service smile, this one is real. “The usual?” She nodded and followed you to the table. Yet before you could leave to get her coffee brewed she spoke up. “Actually…Could I get another coffee? Whatever you would recommend for a date please.”

Ouch…It hurt yet you weren’t surprised. Carmen was the perfect woman. You were just some waitress, you couldn’t sweep the girl in red off her feet. In fact you should be happy for her! It was selfish for you to be acting like this. “Right away!” You rushed to the kitchen where you could show your true expression. Even if it was for a moment.

“I hope this one is okay, I chose my personal favorite.” A smile graced those red lips as she nodded. “It’s perfect,” Carmen said softly. “Now please, sit down.” You froze looking at her with a questioning glance. “But ah…your date?” God she was making this so hard on you! “You are my date, if you will kindly accept my feelings.” How could you say no to that?

“I guess criminals need love to.” Ivy commented as she hid in a booth with her brother behind a comically large newspaper with an eyehole cut out of it. She pushed by her brother. “Let me see! Let me see!“ Ivy elbowed him. “She’ll hear us and you’ll ruin their date!”

Zack had ended up tuning her out, being more distracted by the sniffling. “Umm…Chief?” Who knew a hologram could cry. “She grew up so fast!”

#Peanut anon #Carmen Sandiego #Classic Carmen Sandiego #where on earth is carmen sandiego #Carmen Sandiego x reader #Carmen Sandiego x Fem reader #Classic Carmen Sandiego x reader #Classic Carmen Sandiego x Fem reader #Wlw x reader

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mariacallous · 7 months

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When Liebman’s Delicatessen opened on 235th Street in 1953, the Bronx was still sometimes called “the Jewish Borough.” More than half a million Jews lived between Mott Haven and Riverdale, and according to the 70-year-old deli’s website, they were served by 100 kosher delis. Today, Liebman’s is the last one standing.

“I ask myself a lot: ‘why are we the one that survived?’” Yuval Dekel, who has owned the deli for 20 years, told The Nosher. “Certainly because we’re in Riverdale, which is still a Jewish community.”

He surveys the restaurant, where nearly all 60 blue naugahyde seats are occupied by neighborhood regulars over 60, noshing on pastrami to the strains of ‘50s jukebox hits. “We’re a deli that has regular New York City resident customers. We’re not a tourist destination.”

Dekel, one of the youngest people in the room, took a circuitous route to becoming a deli man. Born in Haifa in 1978, he arrived in the Bronx two years later with his father, who immigrated with hopes of becoming an entrepreneur. A business broker helped the family find Liebman’s, which had foundered under a string of owners after Joseph Liebman sold it in the late ‘50s.

Though Dekel’s father (also named Joseph) was of Romanian descent, he knew little about the Ashkenazi foodways of New York. “I don’t even think he knew about delis,” Dekel said. “In Israel, there’s no deli culture.” Joseph Dekel added Israeli dishes like falafel and hummus to the menu, but took pains to preserve the deli classics, too.

For his part, Yuval Dekel was a metalhead. He was the drummer for Irate, a well-loved New York City thrash band, touring up and down the East Coast, throughout Europe and Japan, and playing at iconic downtown clubs like CBGB in the ‘90s.

“It was pretty hardcore,” Dekel laughs. “Very serious moshing going on. Quite a different environment from this.”

But during his entire stint as a metal drummer, Dekel also supported himself by working as a baker at Amy’s Bread and the original U.S. location of Le Pain Quotidien, developing a serious commitment to artisanal foods. When his father died in 2002 and Dekel took over Liebman’s, his first priority was the quality. He wanted to make sure that every dish on the menu, from sandwiches to stews, got its due.

“One thing that differentiates us from — let’s say Katz’s — is we pay a lot of attention to not just the pastrami,” Dekel said. “Don’t get me wrong, I spent years figuring out how to make our own. But there’s this whole other side to us, which is basically a full-service kosher diner.”

Liebman’s excels in the kinds of homey dishes that tend to be afterthoughts for the best-known pastrami pushers. Stuffed cabbage, stewed in a sweet-and-sour sauce and piled with melting onions and plump raisins, falls apart at the slightest pressure from a fork. On Fridays, Dekel serves cholent, the slow-cooked Shabbat stew.

That’s not to say the deli classics can be missed. Dekel began curing his own pastrami several years ago, after the number of high-quality suppliers had dwindled. The deli slices it thin so that slivers of the smoked meat’s dark crust are evenly interspersed on a sandwich. On the Liebman’s Favorite platter, pastrami is piled high on an open-faced slice of rye, accompanied by fries — thick-cut, pleasantly greasy shards of potato — and kishke (stuffed derma) slathered with brown gravy. It’s an unbelievably hefty plate of food that reminds you the object of a Jewish deli is excess.

Daintier deli classics abound. Liebman’s tender matzah balls float in a rich broth slicked with beads of schmaltz. Hebrew National franks sizzle and blister on a foil-lined griddle in the front window, ready to be garnished with sinus-clearing brown mustard, sauerkraut, coleslaw or — a Liebman’s favorite — a scoop of potato salad. Old timers pick at artfully arranged cold cut platters of sliced tongue, corned beef and kosher salami.

Homemade knishes are of the circular variety, bearing little resemblance to the squared-off “Coney Island” knishes provisioned by wholesalers to hot dog carts across the city. Like all knishes, they are dense starch-delivery systems. But a Liebman’s knish is well-seasoned, and its crust is flaky and pastry-like.

With all of his attention focused on food, Dekel says he struggled with the business side of the operation originally. But a loyal base of customers helped him through his mistakes, and the deli has hit its stride again, getting attention from critics and influencers, and even making an appearance on “Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown” in 2014. Dekel is planning to open a Westchester County location this year, marking the first expansion of Liebman’s in its seven-decade history.

It seems only right that Liebman’s should be the last deli in the Bronx. A mid-century time capsule, it was reinvigorated by Israeli cooking and by Dekel’s do-it-yourself spirit.

“In some cases, being the last one standing doesn’t mean you were the best,” he says. “But I happen to think that we deserve it.”

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devourngs · 7 months

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“don’t be fooled because she may seem like your typical selfish, back-stabbing, slut-faced ho bag, but in reality, she’s so much more than that…” (read: not really).

001. GENERAL

name reina igarashi. nicknames rei, by the very select few. despises nicknames otherwise. age thirty-five. date of birth june 11, 1988. zodiac gemini. place of birth minami-ku, yokohama, japan. current residence greenwich village, manhattan, new york (no visitors, pls and thank u). gender cis woman. pronouns she/her. sexuality $$$. occupation banker, a general pain in the ass, loyal customer @ the local turkish bakery.

faceclaim meisa kuroki. height 168 cm / 5'6". tattoos various fine line tattoos scattered all over her body. piercings 15 — ears (5 x standard lobes, triple flat, couch, 3 x helixes), both nipples, navel. distinguishing features that her outfits are 🔥 and she’s wandering around like she’s gonna end up on the cover of a high fashion magazine. the concept of casual wear is one she doesn’t understand. positive traits observant, assertive, inquisitive, decisive, independent. negative traits selfish, possessive, distant, apathetic, machiavellian. labels / tropes the façade, the grifter, the hell cat, the intangible. likes brainteasers, quaint cafes, ikea furniture, winter, long car rides, reorganising her closet for the umpteenth time, the concept of brunch, tuna onigiri, art exhibitions. dislikes humidity, meetings that could've been an email, over-dramatic people, loud noises, americano coffee, peak hour traffic, social gatherings, deep conversations, greasy/spicy foods. fears a regrettable death. hobbies learning new languages, reading, shopping, holding grudges, travelling. habits twirling pens, smoking (when in a ~contemplative~ mood), cracking her joints (neck and knuckles), tapping her fingers.

002. EXTRA ORDINARY

near death experience: it could be said that this is just case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time—or, more likely, that her father has chosen to avoid confrontation (again), unknowingly leaving his daughter to bear the brunt of his cowardice. the last thing sixteen year old reina expects to arrive home to is a pair of men in the living room, intent on locating the whereabouts of a man who owes them more money than she thought possible. nor does she expect to nurse a wound or two when they lose patience with her responses and take it as a pathetic cover up. (“lies,” they claim, “don’t you know better? hasn’t he raised you to know better?”). but whilst reina doesn’t know where her father may be lurking, or the true extent of his financial issues, what she does know is that she has no intentions of taking her final breaths on the floor of her cramped, mouldy apartment, in the presence of strangers who view her as a lesser being. she won’t give them the satisfaction, not now, not ever.

it’s when they leave for a brief moment does she drag herself up and stumble out, and the rest is a mere blur. reina is adamant that she must’ve had an outer body experience somewhere — how else could she remain undetected, somehow, when the men return and push on right past her, eager to deliver the final blow? as if she doesn’t exist? as if she’s suddenly become someone else?

power: shape shifting (into humans, only). after studying a person for a moment—to capture any details, mannerisms—reina can shift her body to imitate/impersonate another from appearance to voice. over time, she’s grown more comfortable into transforming into people, but only those who she’s personally seen (e.g. she can’t become an individual who is a figment of someone’s imagination as there is nothing for her to base her transformation off). there is the slight possibility that, with further training, she may be able to adopt a person’s ability (if they have any), although reina doesn’t see a point in exploring this just yet, preferring to stick to people who are ability-less since she doesn’t need to be too concerned about the risks.

drawbacks / vulnerabilities: shape shifting, in general, is just an all round complicated mess. rushing with the shifting process ushers in a whole set of problems: missing details (e.g. wrong hair colour, missing freckles, tattoos located in a completely different area), and not to mention, the final change may look a little "gruesome" or frankenstein-esque in nature. when shifting into a person with notable physical attributes for the first time (e.g. someone significantly muscular), the pain can be highly uncomfortable. think: straining a muscle, but multiply that discomfort by at least ten (and then some). additional practice can assist in easing the pain, though ideally, reina should refrain from shifting into multiple people at a time/restrict the times to short periods of an hour to avoid unwanted bedrest or hospitalisation.

codename: after feeling left out upon noting the nicknames bestowed on others, reina’s since adopted the codename obake after the transformational creatures in japanese folklore. she feels it captures her abilities the best, while it also pays homage to her japanese roots ✌️

003. STORY

the beginning is nothing unusual: an absent mother, a struggling father, and the general expectation that reina is destined for nothing more but further misery.

bright, clever yet all too familiar with her shortcomings, the majority of her youth is trying to play catch up with the rest of her peers. she takes ten steps forward, they seem to take twenty. no matter how much she desperately attempts to remain on equal footing, life is all too keen in reminding her of where she truly stands.

her innocence is ultimately ruined, courtesy of her father's looming debts and people who quickly tire of his excuses of a next time. for them, they choose to strike now — and unfortunately for her, she's perceived to be the perfect message to send to her father that debts are to be paid.

it’s with the assistance of the kind grandmother next door that she hightails it out of japan at the next opportunity. a scholarship proves to be the perfect way to bid farewell to a past ridden with false hopes and a cowardly father.

in her quest to shed her past and cultivate a new image, reina turns into a relentless and ruthless social climber. blackmail and manipulation is the norm to cull the competition, but with a cushy job and apartment to her name, she can’t deny that the deception has all been worth it.

004. MISC

with everything that she's done to get where she is, reina is very much aware that actions have consequences— not that it's not enough to persuade her to change her ways, and she's in far too deep to do a 180 anyways. if she is gonna be taken down (lol), then she's gonna make sure to bow out in style baby!!!

suffers from gastrointestinal issues as a result of the poor diet during the majority of her youth. she's an absolute nightmare to dine with (definitely the type to study and critique the menu beforehand. 10/10 do not invite).

upon arriving in new york, reina consumed all kinds of media. as a result, she'll slip a few pop culture references into conversations here and there, mostly for the lols, and occasionally to see if anyone actually remembers mtv's welcome to my crib.

harbours a soft spot for the grandmother who lived next door to her in japan. she made reina onigiris everyday, throwing in extras in the lead up to exams and other important events. considering she was responsible for getting reina out of japan to essentially save her ass and future, reina’s grateful, always.

005. PLOTS

friends: reina's not the type to have genuine bffs (sad, i know), but there may be a few whose company she enjoys, and they can catch up over drinks and discuss #lifestuff and complain about the youths of today.

enemies: honestly, take a number! there could be a long of list of reasons why they don't get along, and i wouldn't object to reina being the cause for most of it. maybe it was a misunderstanding, the realisation that she really is a two faced ho bag wow, she dumped you out of the blue, etc etc.

fellow villains: for bonding over world domination and stuff yknow 💗

flings: she can't do relationships for the life of her, but flings? all good, all good, all good.

past encounters: someone who's vaguely familiar with the reina igarashi from yokohama and is trying to understand why the reina igarashi from new york is a little bit... off. prying into her past? best way to piss her off (also like, let's do it fam).

cerberus agents: she’s popped up on your radar, and reina’s less than pleased with the extra attention. cue: fun and dangerous game of cat and mouse.

i do better with brainstorming!!! just send me a smoke signal and we’re good.

#cc.intro #cc.task #i haven’t slept since 4 am so if this doesn’t make sense #pls pretend it does thank u 🙏🏼#tw death #tw gore

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