#East 10th Street

[northameicanblog]

Snowfall, Abe Lebewohl Triangle, New York: Snowfall morning at the corner of Stuyvesant Street and East 10th Street in the East Village. Abe Lebewohl Park across the street,... Abe Lebewohl Park is a public park in the East Village neighborhood of Manhattan in New York City, in front of the St. Mark's Church in-the-Bowery. Wikipedia

[eastvillagetripster]

Standing Guard

Lion statue outside Saint Mark's Church-in-the-Bowery, 131 East 10th Street (at Second Avenue), East Village, New York City.

[manwalksintobar]

Mugging (I)  // Allen Ginsberg

I Tonite I walked out of my red apartment door on East tenth street’s dusk— Walked out of my home ten years, walked out in my honking neighborhood Tonite at seven walked out past garbage cans chained to concrete anchors   Walked under black painted fire escapes, giant castiron plate covering a hole in ground —Crossed the street, traffic lite red, thirteen bus roaring by liquor store,   past corner pharmacy iron grated, past Coca Cola & Mylai posters fading scraped on brick Past Chinese Laundry wood door’d, & broken cement stoop steps For Rent hall painted green & purple Puerto Rican style Along E. 10th’s glass splattered pavement, kid blacks & Spanish oiled hair adolescents’ crowded house fronts— Ah, tonite I walked out on my block NY City under humid summer sky Halloween, thinking what happened Timothy Leary joining brain police for a season?   thinking what’s all this Weathermen, secrecy & selfrighteousness beyond reason—F.B.I. plots? Walked past a taxicab controlling the bottle strewn curb— past young fellows with their umbrella handles & canes leaning against a ravaged Buick —and as I looked at the crowd of kids on the stoop—a boy stepped up, put his arm around my neck tenderly I thought for a moment, squeezed harder, his umbrella handle against my skull, and his friends took my arm, a young brown companion tripped his foot ’gainst my ankle— as I went down shouting Om Ah Hūm to gangs of lovers on the stoop watching slowly appreciating, why this is a raid, these strangers mean strange business with what—my pockets, bald head, broken-healed-bone leg, my softshoes, my heart— Have they knives? Om Ah Hūm—Have they sharp metal wood to shove in eye ear ass? Om Ah Hūm & slowly reclined on the pavement, struggling to keep my woolen bag of poetry address calendar & Leary-lawyer notes hung from my shoulder dragged in my neat orlon shirt over the crossbar of a broken metal door   dragged slowly onto the fire-soiled floor an abandoned store, laundry candy counter 1929— now a mess of papers & pillows & plastic car seat covers cracked cockroach-corpsed ground— my wallet back pocket passed over the iron foot step guard and fell out, stole by God Muggers’ lost fingers, Strange— Couldn’t tell—snakeskin wallet actually plastic, 70 dollars my bank money for a week, old broken wallet—and dreary plastic contents—Amex card & Manf. Hanover Trust Credit too—business card from Mr. Spears British Home Minister Drug Squad—my draft card—membership ACLU & Naropa Institute Instructor’s identification Om Ah Hūm   I continued chanting Om Ah Hūm Putting my palm on the neck of an 18 year old boy fingering my back pocket crying “Where’s the money” “Om Ah Hūm    there isn’t any” My card Chief Boo-Hoo Neo American Church New Jersey & Lower East Side Om Ah Hūm    —what not forgotten crowded wallet—Mobil Credit, Shell? old lovers addresses on cardboard pieces, booksellers calling cards— —“Shut up or we’ll murder you”—“Om Ah Hūm    take it easy” Lying on the floor shall I shout more loud?—the metal door closed on blackness one boy felt my broken healed ankle, looking for hundred dollar bills behind my stocking weren’t even there—a third boy untied my Seiko Hong Kong watch rough from right wrist leaving a clasp-prick skin tiny bruise “Shut up and we’ll get out of here”—and so they left, as I rose from the cardboard mattress thinking Om Ah Hūm    didn’t stop em enough, the tone of voice too loud—my shoulder bag with 10,000 dollars full of poetry left on the broken floor—

  November 2, 1974

[sixx-sixx-sixx]

THE TRADER’S DAUGHTER — cooper “the ghoul” howard x female!oc

EDIT; FOLLOW @bonafideyapper FOR FUTURE PARTS

warnings(?): dbf!cooper, female!oc, oc is described as brown eyed (but feel free to picture whatever you want), proofread to the best of my ability (correcting capitalization is not my priority on my phone, this is hard enough to format as is), this series will have smut at some point but let me work up to writing that (meaning, let me smoke this joint and see where the wind takes me), there’s allusion to smut in this towards the end but it’s nothing wild

(this is part one of some) - part 2

Daisy hadn’t seen Cooper for a very, very long time. She’d never forgotten the charismatic cowboy that told her stories of the old world and of his encounters with creatures in the wasteland. The ghoul that would bring her little trinkets from his travels, gifting her a pearl necklace for her 10th birthday. A single pearl on a dainty silver chain that she would wear every day until it wore out. She was 13 when that happened, and was utterly devastated. Thankfully, she had charmed a local boy for a new chain, sneaking behind her dad’s back to go on a few dates with the kid. She’s continue to flirt with men and make empty promises to them to replace the chain each time it broke.

Cooper had gotten himself into some thick shit, spending a good time locked up by some raiders and other bullshit that got him sidetracked. On the other side of the goddamn wasteland, on the fucking east coast. How did he even get to the fucking east coast? By the time he made it back to the trading post, over a decade had passed, and it showed in the size of the once-familiar settlement. More gambling, more fighting in the streets, whole lotta bad shit that he didn’t have time to get involved with. He made his way through the town, his gaze trained on the old trading post at the center of town. He took careful notice of how men sneered at him as he passed by them, mumbling some racist bullshit about his ghoulishness.

Fuck them, he thought as he stepped up to the door of the trading post. He opened the door to hear the old bell jingle to alert his presence, watching as a young woman walked out from the back room with a routine “Welcome to Jo’s Shack, what can I get you?” leaving her pretty pink lips.

Daisy was almost in shock, seeing the ghoul standing in her doorway. She had assumed the worst over the years, as his visits had become less and less until they were not at all. She figured he was dead, shriveled up and baking in the sun. Or worse, she worried he had gone feral, which was always going to be inevitable in his case. Either way, she would keep extra chems stocked for the day he returned.

Cooper strolled towards the counter and looked at the girl, recognizing those big brown eyes from a mile away. “Hey, little flower. Your daddy around?” He asked her, his eyes flickering down to look at the pearl around her neck. Huh, he didn’t know she’d have kept it all those years. Pretty things were hard to keep around these parts.

Daisy’s face broke out into a grin and she gave him a little nod, leaning forward to get a good look at him. “Sure is, I’ll go get him for you. he’s not gonna believe this.” She had to fight to maintain her composure and keep her excitement at bay, going through the back room and up the stairs to the second floor of the shack to where her father was sleeping. In the ghoul’s absence, Daisy had grown to be a respectable trader, taking over the face of her father’s shop after growing up learning from the best. Although the population was tougher, she was just as tough, and nobody dared to fuck with Jo’s Shack or the woman running the place.

She stepped back out to the main room and leaned against the newly-reinforced counter, a bright smile on her face as she gazed up at him. He was just as handsome as she remembered, though she was never truly able to capture how his eyes lit up at the sight of her.

“Flower, you are just as pretty as a peach.” Cooper flashed her a wide grin, unashamedly flirting with the girl who he had essentially watched grow up. And whew, did she grow up good. He couldn’t help himself as he let his sunken eyes roam over the smooth, exposed skin of her chest, the tank top she wore under her unzipped jacket left little to the imagination.

Daisy thought his southern drawl was absolutely intoxicating as she slid a little box of chem vials across the counter to him, “Thank you, Coop. Don’t tell dad I gave these to you.” She winked and leaned back as her dad came out to greet his old friend, letting the two men greet each other like they hadn’t spent any time apart.

“Cooper Howard, you son of a bitch! I hope you brought me that Brahmin you still owe me.” Josiah grinned as he pulled the ghoul in for a hug, giving him shit over some long-forgotten wager on a card game. Coop patted him on the back with a shit-eating grin, “Yessir, why, yo’ momma’s waitin’ outside!”

Daisy watched Cooper closely as she stood beside her dad, taking in the way his skin had started to redden in places she didn’t remember being scarred over before. She had spent her whole adolescence infatuated with him, playing it off as a silly little girl crush on a big strong man (who had killed for her, but that’s a story for another day.) Her pulse quickened as she overhead her father invite the ghoul inside for a drink and to rest, watching him come around the counter to push through the curtains leading to the back.

It was fucked up, Cooper knew that. He knew it was fucked up to already be thinking about the woman behind him. Thinking about how sweet she sounded when she said his name, thinking about that little pearl necklace dangling in his face as she skillfully sat atop his—

He really needed that drink, and maybe a puff of his inhaler before he went feral at the thought of something as soft and pretty as his Daisy having anything to do with something as scarred and distorted as him.

a/n: okay yall what do we think about part one? I got to the app to post it and immediately rewrote the ending because I hated the original, so I hope this was good!

taglist: @savanahc @one-of-thewalkingdead @silverose365 @neverendingdumptser

[sgiandubh]

Oh, hello

The Sibyl of Tydavnet was supposedly back home, and we finally have something to speculate upon, after a week-end with no news from both of Them (go figure). So much so that it's been very, very quiet in here:

This is, of course, a latergram, When being the important question, here. I have to say I was a bit surprised, after two hours of research (and cooking, but that is a separate story).

Let's unpack:

From 1974 to 2023, the Monaghan County Museum has been open and free to visit. Until 1981, in the old Courthouse building of Monaghan Town, then temporarily hosted by the Christian Brothers Secondary School, and since 1986 in this building on Hill Street:

I am not inventing anything, this info comes straight from their official website:

On May 18th, 2023 (on International Museum Day), the venue was closed and the collections were planned to be moved at the new Monaghan Peace Campus:

The Peace Campus is a very important local initiative, funded by the City Council, the Irish Department of Rural and Community Development and the EU, via the Irish SEUPB (Special EU Programs Body - ironically, the counterpart of my new job, starting next Friday, LOL). It was inaugurated on May 10, 2024:

Where was C, in this clip, posted today and suggesting a recent trip to Ireland?

In the old building, of course, exactly as it was on May 18, 2023:

Apparently taken on an extensive private tour that included the storage area, where this pic was taken:

How do I know it? I simply combed the meager social media accounts of the Museum, that's all. See and compare for yourself, with this screenshot of the moving operations, from the old Hill Street to the new premises (posted on Facebook, on June 14th, 2024, but very likely shot slightly before):

In April 2023, the new Peace Campus looked roughly like this. There is no way that clip would have been shot there. Not then...

...and not later, because the new display in the new venue looks totally different:

And it was completed around May 10th 2024, when this picture was taken, separately from the rest of the released info:

The pic was taken by Laura Hogan, the North East Correspondent for RTE News, a subsidiary of the Irish public TV and Radio broadcasting company:

But perhaps even more interestingly, the Museum shot several clips of people featured, like C, in the new inaugural exhibition. Such as this guy, back in June 2023, on their old premises:

Ardal O'Hanlon, Irish stand-up comedian and actor, based in Ireland and London:

This is a very, very, VERY late latergram. My best guess would be anytime between May 2023 and most probably around June 2023. Simply because it would be logical that the clip shooting be completed with all the people involved at the same time, for logistical reasons, and before the packing of the exhibits would have started in earnest.

As always, I could be wrong. As always, people will bitch around, especially the divas and those who know strictly nothing. But I'll be damned if C were in Ireland anytime near this last week-end!

[scopophilic1997]

scopOphilic_documentary_108 - scopOphilic1997 presents a new micro-messaging series: small, subtle, and often unintentional messages we send and receive verbally and non-verbally.

Memories of places in the past (former gay-lgbtq+ bars/clubs) (L-R, T-B): Crow Bar (East 10th Street - East Village), Pyramid Club (Avenue A - East Village), Danceteria (West 21st Street - Photo District/Chelsea), & Limelight/Chapel Entrance (West 20th Street - Photo District/Chelsea)

These posters were all over the Lower East Side for many years in the 1980s/1990s when Dean Johnson's Rock 'N' Roll Fag Bar was happening at The World, The Pyramid Club, and other venues later on. Dean also did the door at the Limelight (Chapel entrance) for some wild parties with Michael Alig & the Club Kids. Dean also had two great bands: Dean and the Weenies and the Velvet Mafia. Dean was the ultimate showman at whatever he did. Sadly, Dean was murdered in Washington DC in 2007.

(Both posters are part of my collection. The photo one was cut off a wall around 1987. The illustration was given to me by a close friend of Deans.)

[lonestarflight]

"The prototype space shuttle orbiter Enterprise drew thousands of spectators on a chilly winter day as it was towed along 10th Street East (now Challenger Way) near Lancaster Boulevard in Lancaster, Calif., on its overland journey to NASA's Dryden Flight Research Center at Edwards, Calif., on Jan. 31, 1977. Never destined for actual space flight, the Enterprise would soon be the focus of the in-atmosphere Approach and Landing Tests that would validate the shuttle's capability to make a precise runway landing following return from space."

Date: January 31, 1977

Photographed by Jerry Isham

NARA: 6375234

NASA ID: EC77-6679, EC77-6682, EC77-6680, EC77-6683

Intrepid Museum Archive: P2011.48.12, P2011.48.09, P2011.48.15, P2011.48.11, P2011.48.13

[federer7]

10th Street & Avenue C. Lower East Side. New York City. ca. 1974

Photo: Helen Levitt

[allthecanadianpolitics]

The owner of an East Vancouver apartment building badly damaged by a fire last summer has been fined $4,500 for numerous fire code violations.

Flames broke out at the building at East 10th Avenue and Prince Edwards Street on July 27, 2023. The damage left 30 people homeless.

In November, owner Fu Ren pleaded guilty to six of 20 code violations of which he was accused. Alleged violations included failing to maintain the sprinkler systems and fire extinguishers and allowing fire hazards such as exposed wires.

Ren represented himself in court, and argued the fire department hadn’t followed proper procedures.

The citations stemmed from a November 2022 inspection of the Mount Pleasant rental. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 Scenes of dead and wounded Palestinian men, women and children lay sprawling everywhere in a field hospital with minimal supplies after the Israeli occupation forces bombed the Al-Taba'een School sheltering thousands of civilian families in the Al-Daraj neighborhood, east of Gaza City, during Fajr (dawn) prayers on Saturday morning, killing more than 100 civilians and wounding scores of others. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

ISRAELI GENOCIDE IN GAZA DAY 309: THOUSANDS DISPLACED AGAIN WITH LATEST EVACUATION ORDERS, YAHYA SINWAR DEMANDS FULL ISRAELI WITHDRAWAL FROM GAZA, JOURNALISTS TARGETED BY ZIONIST ARMY, MORE THAN 100 KILLED IN ISRAELI MASSACRE AS GENOCIDE CONTINUES WITH NO END IN SIGHT

On the 309th day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 3 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 40 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 140 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or whose bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally the number of those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

Newly appointed leader of the Hamas Islamic resistance movement, Yahya Sinwar, has penned a letter to the Egyptian mediators negotiating a hostage exchange and ceasefire deal between the Islamic resistance in Gaza and the Zionist entity.

In the letter, Sinwar demanded a full Israeli withdrawal from the Gaza Strip as part of any agreement between the two warring sides.

Additionally, according to Palestinian reporting, Sinwar is demanding the release of Palestinian prisoners with long sentences in Israeli prisons, including Marwan Barghouti and Ahmed Saadat, to which the newly elected leader of the resistance group refuses to give up on.

Sinwar reportedly also strongly opposes the administration of the Gaza Strip by the Palestinian Authority after the war, and rejected the idea of the deployment of a multinational force in Gaza to maintain security following any ceasefire agreement.

Following the assassination of Ismail Haniyeh, who previously headed Hamas's political bureau, Yahya Sinwar was elected to lead the movement by unanimous consensus, selecting a resistance commander who has shown he is capable of shouldering the responsibility of leading the war on the ground while under constant Israeli assault for more than 300 days.

In other news this Saturday, August 10th, the United Nations announced today that at least 60'000 Palestinian civilians have been displaced from the western areas of Gaza under evacuation orders by the Israeli occupation forces, fleeing to so-called "humanitarian" safe zones that are repeatedly bombed by the occupation army.

According to Turkish news outlet, Anadolu News Agency, the Israeli occupation uses forced displacement of Palestinians as a weapon of war, and that more than 80% of Gaza's 2.3 million residents have been displaced since October, 2023.

This comes after the occupation army demanded the evacuation of the residents of Khan Yunis earlier this week, forcing tens of thousands of civilians to leave their homes and shelters once again in preperation for yet another Israeli incursion into the city.

According to United Nations data, 9 out of 10 people in the Gaza Strip have been forcibly displaced, with many Palestinians forced to make impossible decisions between death and repeated displacement, even as the Zionist entity continues to block the entry of humanitarian aid into Gaza.

On Saturday, the spokesperson for the United Nations Secretary-General, Florencia Soto, gave a press briefing where she told reporters that "It is estimated that more than 80% of the Gaza Strip has been subject to Israeli evacuation orders since October of last year."

She went on to warn that the amount of humanitarian aid entering the Gaza Strip has been cut by more than half since the beginning of May following the closure of the Rafah and Karm Abu Salem border crossings.

According to Soto, back in April, the number of trucks transporting aid into Gaza averaged 169 daily, while since the crossing's closure, the number of trucks entering the enclave has dropped to less than 80 per day for the months of June and July.

Meanwhile, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) renewed its massacres of civilian targets and "safe zones" in the Gaza Strip, killing and wounding hundreds of Palestinians and leaving widespread destruction across the Strip.

In the latest horrific massacre yet another crime against humanity, the Israeli occupation army dropped three American-made 2'000lb (907kg) bunker-busting bombs targeting the Al-Taba'een School sheltering more than 6'000 Palestinians in the Al-Daraj neighborhood, east of Gaza City, resulting in the immediate fatalities of at least 100 civilians and wounding scores of others, including many that required amputations.

The Director of Gaza's Media Office, Ismail Thawabteh, said in a statement that the latest massacre coincided with the "complete destruction of the health system in northern Gaza," leaving the area with no remaining hospitals capable of handling the large numbers of casualties resulting from the strikes.

Thawabteh added that there continues to be a severe shortage of medicines, hospital beds and medical supplies to treat the wounded, and pointed out that the bombing of the Al-Taba'een School marks the 175th shelter to be targeted by the occupation army since the start of the war, with 155 of those being Schools that were directly targeted.

Thawabteh went on to hold both the Zionist regime and the United States fully responsible for the slaughter, calling upon the International community to "pressure Israel and the US to halt the ongoing massacres and genocidal campaign against the Palestinian people.”

Earlier today, the Gaza Government media office said that “the Israeli strikes targeted the displaced people while performing Fajr (dawn) prayers, [which] led to a rapid rise in the number of casualties.”

The Israeli occupation's war crimes continued when Zionist warplanes bombed several areas of Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, killing at least 14 Palestinians, including two journalists, and wounding a number of others.

Local medical sources reported they'd received the bodies of 14 Palestinians at Nasser medical complex in Khan Yunis after intense bombing and shelling targeted various areas of the city.

According to local reporting, occupation fighter jets bombed a residential house belonging to the Muammar family in the Tahlia neighborhood of central Khan Yunis, resulting in the deaths 5 civilians, including Tamim Muammar, a journalist with Voice of Palestine Radio.

In another crime, Zionist snipers shot and killed a Palestinian citizen in the vicinity of the Ailabun School in the town of Al-Qarara, northeast of Khan Yunis.

Local reporting also announced the death of journalist Abdullah Al-Soussi in an occupation bombing raid that targeted the Al-Soussi family home in the city of Khan Yunis.

Following the murder of the two journalists, occupation artillery forces shelled a house in the Al-Shahaida area in the town of Abasan Al-Jadida, east of Khan Yunis, injuring several Palestinians.

Zionist warplanes also bombed a residential home belonging to the Abu Khalifa family in the Jabalia Refugee Camp, in the northern Gaza Strip, killing 6 Palestinian civilians and wounding at least 15 others.

Occupation aircraft later bombed a civilian residence belonging to the Hamada family, west of the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, resulting in the deaths of 4 Palestinians and wounding several others, while two other homes belonging to the Abu Rahma and Al-Hawari families were also damaged in the strike.

Similarly, at least 4 civilians were wounded as a result of the occupation's artillery shelling of a residential house belonging to the Al-Qarnawi family, south of the Nuseirat Camp.

Occupation warplanes went on to bomb a civilian tent at Site-14, adjacent to the Al-Mazra'a School, east of the city of Deir al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip, killing 4 civilians and wounding several others.

Yet another occupation airstrike targeted a gathering of civilians in the Ma'an area, east of Khan Yunis, in the south of Gaza, resulting in the deaths of more than 7 Palestinians.

Additionally, a Zionist drone bombed a group of civilians near the Sunnah Mosque in Al-Nuseirat in central Gaza, murdering 3 Palestinians and wounding a number of others.

At the same time, another occupation drone bombed a residential house belonging to the Al-Aklouk family in the Al-Baraka area, south of Deir al-Balah, killing one civilian and wounding several others who were transported to Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in the city.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination in the Gaza Strip, the infinitely rising death toll now exceeds 39'790 Palestinians killed, including more the 10'980 women and over 16'315 children, while another 91'702 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

This brings the total casualty count to more than 131'492, or the equivalent of 5.71% of Gaza's 2.3 million residents.

August 10th, 2024.

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#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[joeinct]

77 East 10th Street, Photo by David Vestal. 1949

[ereardon]

Friends Don't || Chapter 13

Synopsis: Bob Floyd has been your best friend for almost a decade, ever since he quietly agreed to tutor you in college. The two of you have spent years chasing each other around the globe – Bob as a WSO, you as a travel blogger. You’ve always been the anywhere-but-here girl, and he’s been your rock. But when a surprise diagnosis threatens to crumble your picture-perfect life, you’re on the first flight back to San Diego, desperate to put down roots for the first time. Will Bob finally have it in him to admit that you could be the love of his life? What will he say when he finds out the secret you’ve been skillfully hiding from him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t find out until it’s too late? 

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x OC [Reid] 

Tropes: Friends to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, cancer, alcohol, mentions of death, fertility discussions and pregnancy, surrogacy, mentions of IVF and clinics/hospital testing, fucking ANGST, medical inaccuracies because I am not a fertility expert or a physician

WC: 2.6K

Chapter summary: Phoenix's pregnancy progresses; Reid tells Bobby she's ready to get married; Reid forgives Jake for being a dick; Bobby and Reid prepare for Baby Floyd

Series masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here

Bob had always wanted kids. 

He wanted to be a dad, long before it was a popular idea. He remembered being eight and his little sister falling on the playground. He was the first one to get to her, to bandage her knee, to wipe away her tears and say it was going to be OK. 

He knew then what he knew now: he was meant to be a dad. He just had to find the right girl to build a life with. 

Everything happened fast. Before you knew it, you, Bob and Phoenix were on a commercial flight back to New York, meeting with your doctors at Mount Sinai about the viability of the eggs. Bob looked a little pale as they handed him a cup at the fertility specialist and showed him a private room in the corner. They asked if you would like to join him and the blush that crept over his face had you and Phoenix laughing for hours. 

You got to show Bob and Phoenix around New York for two days while you waited for the results from Bob’s tests, the egg viability tests, as well as Phoenix’s screening exams. You took them for bagels and walks in the park all the way up to the Met. You snuck out early from the AirBnB in the morning to get chocolate babka from Breads Bakery before it sold out and you and Bob wandered the aisles of The Strand before meeting Phoenix for dinner at your favorite tapas bar tucked away on west 10th street. 

And then you got the call. The three of you sat in the waiting room of the clinic on the upper east side, your hand swaddled in Bob’s. 

“Everything looks good,” the doctor said. “We can start fertilization and bring you in for a transfer in a few days.” 

You looked at Bob with wide eyes. He pulled you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. When you leaned back you reached over and grabbed Phoenix, holding her tightly. “Thank you,” you whispered. 

The three of you left five days later with explicit instructions that Phoenix wasn’t to take a pregnancy test for two weeks. 

The two longest weeks of your life. Finally, two Fridays later, you sat in the back seat while Bob drove Phoenix to the clinic on base to get a blood draw. 

Later that night, the phone rang. You looked over at Phoenix, eyes wide. She reached out, hand steady and even, and swiped it open, hitting the speaker button. “Lieutenant Trace.” 

“Lieutenant Trace, it’s Dr. Marly. We have your results. Are Lieutenant Floyd and Ms. Coleman there as well?” 

“They are.” 

“Great.” There was the sound of shuffling paper. “Congratulations. You’re pregnant.” 

Your jaw dropped. For a moment, no one knew what to do. But then Bob pulled you into his arms, twirling you around in a circle before bending you backward, pressing his lips to yours, smiling. 

“You’re going to be a mom,” he whispered as he pulled back. 

A tear slid down your cheek. “And you’re going to be a dad.” 

He grinned. You turned to Phoenix who ended the call and looked up at you with a surprised look. 

Before she could say anything, your arms were wrapped tightly around her, your face buried in her neck. “Thank you,” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheek and wetting her hair. “I just, thank you.” 

She swallowed the lump in her throat and Bob stepped closer, wrapping the aviator in his arms and you watched the two of them, your heart threatening to crack in half. 

Bob called the rest of the team, inviting them over, and less than twenty minutes later the house was full of shouting aviators. You watched and laughed as Bob jumped up and down with Coyote and Bradley hugged Phoenix tightly, one hand over her flat lower stomach before she swatted him away playfully. 

Jake entered the room and zeroed in on you immediately, crossing the living room and coming to stand in front of you. “Reid,” he said softly. “I just–”

You closed the gap between the two of you, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into an embrace. The room went quiet and Jake’s arms circled your waist hesitantly. 

You pulled back slightly, still holding onto his shoulders. 

“I forgive you,” you said. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Grudges don’t matter. I’m going to be a mom. That’s what matters.” 

And then you pulled him back in for another hug, and felt the relief fall from Jake’s back. He felt lighter and you swore you almost heard him sniffle against your neck.

After the two of you broke apart, Bob crossed the room, wrapping his hands around the side of your neck, pressing his lips firmly against your forehead. You closed your eyes and let go. 

Everything was going to work out. 

***

The waiting was the worst part. First it was for the first scan. And then it was for the heartbeat. 

Every time, you’d sit in the back as Bob drove the three of you to the clinic, his hand firm in yours as you sat on the chairs against the wall, waiting for the tiny bean to show up on the ultrasound. 

Sometimes you felt like you were married to Phoenix. Always asking her if you could do anything for her, rub her feet, get her ice cream. 

“Reid,” she laughed as you flitted nervously around the kitchen, looking for a snack. “You’re going to worry yourself into a coma.” 

You turned to her with a sigh. “I just, I don’t know what to do,” you admitted. “I don’t even know what my role is.” 

She stood and pressed her hands against the tops of your shoulders. “We’re all just figuring it out as we go.” 

You nodded softly. 

You couldn’t help but be jealous as you saw Phoenix’s body begin to round out softly. And you were thankful that she let you in on the experience, lifting her shirt, pressing your hand to the delicate curve without you ever asking.

But it didn’t stop you from tearing up in Bob’s arms at night as he held you. Perhaps you were crying for a lot of things. Not only the fact that you so desperately wanted to be the one to carry his child. But because you knew that at some point, somewhere, you would leave them. And it would be Bob and the baby. 

“Bobby?” you whispered quietly in the dark, your naked limbs tangled with his, his fingers threading softly through your hair. 

“What is it, honey?”

“Are you going to forget me?” you asked. “When I’m gone.” Then, “What if the baby never remembers me at all?” 

“Darlin’.” Bob tipped your chin up so you were looking at his soft blue eyes. “I’ll never forget you. Not as long as I live. You’re unforgettable, Reid Coleman.” 

“Floyd,” you said and Bob squinted. 

“Why are you calling me by my last name?” he chuckled.

You shook your head. “I want to be Reid Floyd. Let’s do it. Let’s get married.” 

“Are you serious?” he asked quietly. Bob knew you weren’t one for marriage or all the bureaucracy involved in a wedding. 

You nodded with a smile. “Yeah, I am. Just you and me. Maybe Phoenix. And Bradley can come.” 

Bob laughed, pressing his lips to yours, absorbing your laugh through his body. “So everyone,” he murmured. 

“Fine,” you said and he chuckled again, pulling you in tighter. “We can have a party after, a small one.” 

“Or just us,” he said softly. “Whatever you want, I’ll give you. Anything.” 

“You,” you whispered. “I want you. I want to be yours. That’s enough.” 

***

In the end, you had a small ceremony out on the beach near where Bob first asked you to marry him. You wore a white chiffon dress that floated in the wind, and Bradley officiated following a short online course to get ordained. 

You and Bob had agreed that writing your own vows were cheesy. The truth was, you didn’t think you’d be able to get through them without crying off your makeup. 

So when Bob pulled out a small sheet of paper, folded neatly into a square, your breath caught in your throat. 

“Bobby,” you whispered, shaking your head. "I didn't write anything."

He smiled. He was wearing a light tan suit with a white button up left slightly unbuttoned at the top, bare feet in the sand, hair slightly longer but brushed back neatly. Bob grinned at you. “Please, Sunny,” he said softly. “Let me do this.” 

You nodded and took his free hand in yours. 

“Sunny,” Bob said, smiling down at you. “I always knew that I loved you. I think in the beginning I wasn’t sure, all I knew was that I wanted to spend all of my time with you. That you were my best friend, the one person I trusted would always have my back. And then, slowly, I realized it wasn’t just that. I love the way you laugh and the way your eyes crinkle at the corners as you read and how you always have a huge bag of mints in the car that spills all over anytime you try to get one out while you’re driving, and I love the way you always make my birthday so special because you know I would never make a fuss about it myself. 

“I have loved you every day for ten years. Being your husband is going to be the most important thing I’ll ever do. You’re my whole world, Sunny. I hope I can make you even one percent as happy as you make me, simply by being yourself. You’re the best part of my day, you’re my best friend, you’re my soulmate. I love you so much, darlin’. And I always will.” 

You were sobbing. Bob slid the note back into his pocket, grabbing both of your hands with his, drawing your knuckles up to his lips and kissing them softly. 

Bradley pushed a tear off of his cheek and read the rest of the ceremony. You slid a solid gold band onto Bob’s finger. He placed the gold band he had originally given you back onto your finger where you had slipped it off earlier that morning and given it to Jake for safe keeping. 

“You may now kiss the bride.” 

Bob stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you, one hand on your neck, supporting your head. He grinned and leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. You closed your eyes, savoring it. 

That was a moment that would last forever. 

***

You sat on the beach under an umbrella, wearing one of Bob’s old shirts over your swimsuit, drinking from a bottle of water. 

In the distance, along the shoreline, the team was playing a game of pickup dogfight football. You had become accustomed to the yells, the grunts, the almost blinding parade of abs. 

Next to you, Phoenix sat on a matching chair, reading a book. 

You looked over at her. “How are you feeling?” She was fifteen weeks along. Her lithe, gorgeous body had taken on a small rounded stomach which she rubbed with suntan lotion. 

“I’m OK,” she said, leaning back slightly and sighing. “Feeling huge.” 

You chuckled. “Well you look great.” 

Phoenix turned her eyes on you, your gold ring glinting in the sun as you slid on a pair of sunglasses over your eyes. “How are you, Reid?” she asked softly. 

“I’m good.”

“How are you really?” 

The truth was, you were tired. Small things felt like they were taking longer. You had started to scrapbook. You and Bob had both agreed that you’d quit your job, time was too precious, so you did, shortly after the wedding. It gave you time to think. Time to shop for a nursery, which you set up in your old room. Funny that only a handful of months before, you had been redecorating it as your room. Now, you and Bob shared the master, his nightstand impeccable and clean, yours littered with mint wrappers and dog-eared books and leftover bottles of half-full kombucha.

You needed more time. You were worried that one day they would forget you. That’s why you had a large photo of you and Bob printed and framed and hung it in the entryway. The two of you on the beach on the day of your wedding. Happy. You hoped that look would last forever. 

You smiled at her. “I want him to be happy,” you said softly. “Even when I’m gone. I want him to always look like this.” 

The two of you looked out over at the group. Bob sat on Bradley’s shoulders, proudly holding the football, a wide smile stretched over his entire face. 

“He deserves to be happy forever.” 

She reached out and grabbed your hand. “He’s happy now,” she said. “Let’s focus on that. That's all we can do.” 

***

The days were slow and fast, all at once. 

You and Bob had fallen into a rhythm. He made coffee while you slept in, and the two of you would sit in bed and drink the coffee when it was ready, the blinds pulled open. You filled your days with activities like painting the nursery or going to the farmer’s market, Phoenix’s doctor’s appointments, your own doctor’s appointments. 

There was a conflicting feeling in your chest every time you walked into a medical office. 

The doctors were adamant everything about the baby was perfect. You heard the heartbeat on the ultrasound monitor, you opted in for genetic testing. 

They were less convinced about your own prognosis. 

One day, you and Bob left an appointment and drove home in silence. You excused yourself to go outside, read in the backyard. 

When you crept inside an hour later, you heard soft sobs coming from the direction of the nursery. 

Your heart squeezed as you tiptoed nearer, Bob’s soft cries plainly heard through the cracked door. The nursery wasn’t finished. You still needed to get a glider and a dresser for a changing table, and you hadn’t bought nearly enough clothes so there were just empty tiny hangers in the closet. 

Bob sat on the floor near the crib, the one item of furniture you had managed to buy, his face buried in his hands. You watched from the doorway as his shoulders shook. The way he tried to silence himself. 

He couldn’t even hear you over his own tears as you made your way across the room, putting one hand on his shoulder. Bob startled under your touch, refusing to look at you until he wiped under his eyes furiously. 

“Bobby?” you whispered softly. 

He shook his head. “I’m fine. What do you want for dinner, darlin’?” 

“You’re not fine,” you said, sitting down next to him, one of your thighs overlapping his. You ran a thumb beneath his eyes, flicking away the tears. His glasses were smudged and foggy and you felt your heart break. “It’s OK, you know,” you whispered. “It’s OK not to be fine. It’s OK to be sad. It’s OK to mourn the things we’ll never have.” 

“How is any of this OK?” he demanded. 

“You’re right. It’s not.”

“Why did you wait so long?” His voice was climbing. Anger poured out of him. You would take the anger over the sadness. “To tell me? We could have had more time.”

You shook your head. “We had as much time as we needed,” you murmured. 

“No amount of time is enough,” Bob insisted, his hands warm in yours. “It’ll never be enough.” 

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his. “Let’s just be happy with what we have,” you said softly. “I’ll love you forever, Bobby. No matter what.” 

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[eastvillagetripster]

Eyes on 10th

Detail from the community mural on the Charas community center, East 10th Street off of Avenue B, East Village, New York City.

[scotianostra]

Happy Birthday James “Midge” Ure born October 10th 1953 in Cambuslang.

Born to a working class family Ure attended Cambuslang Primary School and Rutherglen Academy in Glasgow until he was 15 years old. For the first 10 years of his life he lived in a one-bedroom tenement flat. After leaving school Ure attended Motherwell Technical College and then began to work as an engineer, training at the National Engineering Laboratory (NEL), in nearby East Kilbride.

Midge started playing music in a Glasgow band called Stumble in 1969, before joining Salvation, a Glasgow-based group that became the bubblegum band Slik in 1974. Upset in the change of direction, Ure left the band to join the Rich Kids, a punk-pop group led by former Sex Pistol bassist Glen Matlock. The Rich Kids only released one album, 1978’s Ghosts of Princes in Towers, before breaking up later that year. Ure spent a brief time with the Misfits (not the American band) before forming Visage with drummer Rusty Egan and vocalist Steve Strange; he left the group to replace Gary Moore in Thin Lizzy, who had left in the middle of an American tour. After the tour was finished, Ure fulfilled an agreement to join Ultravox as the replacement for John Foxx.

Once he joined the band in 1980, Ure helped make Ultravox a mainstream success; during this time he also worked as a producer, making records with Steve Harley and Modern Man. In 1982, Ure released a solo single, a cover of the Walker Brothers’ hit “No Regrets”; it climbed into the U.K. Top Ten. Ure and Bob Geldof formed Band Aid, a special project to aid famine relief efforts in Ethiopia, in 1984. The two wrote the song “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” and assembled an all-star band of musicians to record the single; it sold millions of copies over the 1984 holiday season.

In 1985, Ultravox was put on hiatus and Ure began to pursue a full-time solo career. Recorded entirely by Ure, his 1985 solo debut, The Gift, launched the number one single “If I Was,” as well as the minor hits “That Certain Smile” and “Call of the Wild.” The following year, he recorded the final Ultravox album; in 1987, the band broke up and he began recording his second solo album. The resulting record, 1988’s Answers to Nothing, was less successful than The Gift in the U.K., yet it charted in the U.S., which is something Ure’s previous album failed to do. Three years later, Ure released his third album, Pure; while it didn’t do any business in America, the album featured the Top 20 British hit “Cold, Cold Heart.” He attempted a comeback in 1996 with Breathe, which went ignored by both the American and British markets. Four years later, his score for the Jon Cryer drama-comedy Went to Coney Island was issued by the Evenmore label.

Ure’s recording activity during the 2000s began with Move Me, which featured some surprisingly hard rocking material. A few years later, he published an autobiography, If I Was, and then, with Geldof, arranged the Live 8 concerts.

Following the release of the covers-oriented 10 IN 2008, Ure participated in an Ultravox reunion and continued to record as a solo artist. Fragile was issued in 2014, and featured the Moby collaboration “Dark, Dark Night.” In 2017, he collaborated with composer Ty Unwin on the album Orchestrated, which featured orchestral reworkings of Ultravox songs, as well as songs from his solo career.

In 2020 Midge released an album Soundtrack 1978-2019, he was one of the lucky artists to have completed his tour promoting this in February that year.

Midge has recently revealed why he turned down an offer to join the Sex Pistols, telling The Telegraph that he considered that taking up the invitation from the band's manager Malcolm McLaren would have been like "joining a slightly edgier Bay City ­Rollers". He received the offer to join the fledgling punk band back in 1975, while on a visit to McCormack’s instrument hire shop in Glasgow.

In an interview published in the Telegraph he said;

"I was stopped in the street by the Clash’s manager, Bernie Rhodes, who then introduced me to Malcolm McLaren, I didn’t know who either of them was, but they literally asked me to join the Sex Pistols without even asking what I did. To me it would have been like joining a slightly edgier Bay City Rollers, so I turned them down.

Last October Midge celebrated seven decades of music with a concert at the Royal Albert Hall.

Concerts coming up for Midge are, 24th October: Tvonica Culture - Zagreb , 31st October: Stadfeestzaal - Aarschot, Belgium with Lena

Lovich, before 27 dates in Scotland, England, Ireland and Wales ending in December, he then travels to United Arab Emirates for a gig in February, March sees the hard working Scot play 11 nights in Sweden and Germany.

Midge Ure is one of Scotland’s all-time most successful musicians. He is married with four daughters and lives in Somerset.

The video is Midge, with Pilot,s David Paton from a Live Hogmanay show in 1995.

[southeastasianists]

Penang is well-known for its vibrant Straits Chinese Peranakan culture, but if you know where to look, there’s another chapter to its history. While the focus is often on the marriage between overseas Chinese traders marrying local Malay women, the truth is, the Chinese were not the only traders conducting business in George Town. Merchants from around the region were familiar with Penang, having already flowed through Penang on various trading missions.

Between the 10th and 18th centuries, traders and migrants from India, Persia, and the Middle East arrived in Penang. Their marriages with local Malay women gave rise to a new branch of the Peranakans, known as Jawi Peranakan, with Jawi denoting Southeast Asian Muslims, and Peranakan taking its meaning from the Malay word ‘anak’, or child. Over time, this group expanded to include those who had Arab-Malay ancestry. In Penang, they were also once known as Jawi Pekan. 

The Jawi Peranakan cuisine, much like its Chinese cousins, draws on cultural exchanges between Malay cuisine and its Indian, Arab, and Persian influences. Jawi Peranakan dishes tend to feature ingredients from India and the Middle East, including ground almonds and cashews, saffron, and rosewater. The cuisine of the Jawi Peranakan was generally recognized to be more lavish, and was often served during feasts and special occasions. 

To get a taste of this chapter of Peranakan history, visit Jawi House, located on Armenian Street in the heart of George Town’s downtown heritage district. The house was recently renovated in 2012 according to UNESCO World Heritage Guidelines, but it has existed for six generations. It was established by the Karim family of Punjabi-Jawi Peranakan history, and today functions as not just a restaurant showcasing a modern take on Jawi Peranakan cuisine, but also as a small gallery charting the family’s history as well as classic handcrafted art. Helmed by Chef Nurilkarim Razha, a descendant of the Karim family, the restaurant offers up iconic Jawi Peranakan fare. Popular dishes include lamb bamieh, a fragrant, aromatic Persian-inspired okra and tomato-based lamb stew; serabai, a Malay kuih which resembles a tangy, spongier pancake made from fermented rice batter and served with caramel kaya (coconut jam); and nasi lemuni, an herbaceous rich rice dish cooked with butterfly pea flowers and the herb Vitex trifolia.

[s4bbatical]

YOUR GIRL | Part 4. Patrick Zweig x Female!Reader

Pairing: Patrick Zweig x female!reader, Tashi Duncan x female!reader (platonic)

Summary: After your parents announce their divorce, you're sent to New York to pursue your passion for the arts at NYU. Your cousin, the infamous tennis player Tashi Duncan, introduces you to her insufferable colleagues at a house party in the upper east side. Already a sore thumb from rural Canada, Patrick can't help but find interest in an untouched territory.

Word Count: 5,5k

Warnings: Foul language, mention of cannabis.

MINORS DNI

Notes: The timeline is inaccurate in comparison to the film, this is an AU. All characters introduced are barely in their early 20s, unless stated otherwise. No use of y/n.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

CHAPTER FOUR: “Sutphin Boulevard”

"Believer - monologue exemplifies a lust. It's so true."

You didn't really like November.

The month between Halloween and Christmas was as useless as a trust fund kid hosting a charity event, which you did in fact have to attend with Tashi right after your exam week. Thankfully, you were not obligated to be present on campus besides exams and classes, giving you the excuse to not face your problems anywhere. You knew running away from it wouldn't last forever. However, it was the only thing you could do for now.

The first two weeks of November, Tashi and Chloe take turns spending time with you, making sure you weren't alone with your thoughts for too long. You tried to focus on your studies, excelling in them due to the lack of outside obstacles. You no longer wanted to attend gatherings as it was another way to run into him, only leaving your house if it was necessary.

Tashi had told your grandmother about the reason why you had taken the life of a hermit, so she gave you a position at her flower shop, thinking it would be nice to distract yourself from the noise.

All you could do was think about it, really. What you would do if he apologized, what would he say, and what would you say if he really wanted you. Or wanted nothing to do with you. You couldn't help it. You even made a pro and cons list on your phone when you were on the subway earlier that day, swearing to yourself as you thought you saw him sitting in the next cart over. It was not him. You weren't even in his neighborhood, for god's sake. It was you who had chose to cut contact with him, and you knew it was up to you if you wished to reconcile.

You stood behind the counter at work, busying yourself with bouquet assembly as Chloe wandered around the shop aimlessly.

"How many orders can you possibly get in one day?" Your best friend says, grabbing a lily and sniffing it before putting it back in it's place.

"The people are very grateful for Thanksgiving, you know." You say, tying up your 10th order of the afternoon. "If you're bored then you can help me out." You suggest to Chloe, who pretends to think in deep thought for a moment.

"I'm okay, thanks though." She smiles, taking bite of her shawarma wrap that she bought across the street. She had gotten you one as well, which you already devoured about an hour ago. "So," She starts speaking, swallowing her food. "You feel like coming out of hiding for the Manhattan holiday market? We could go skating, too. Tis the season!" She says in a sing-song voice, shimmying her shoulders.

You laugh, starting another order. "Yeah, sure. I used to be a figure skater when I was younger, actually." You admit, putting away the last order of the day.

"Seriously? How am I hearing about this now?" Chloe asks, taking another bite of her wrap.

You shrug. "I haven't done it since I graduated high school. My parents..." You trail off, recalling the pain and anger of the divorce. It tore your house apart. "They didn't wanna pay for it anymore." You simply say, smiling slightly.

Chloe nods, finishing her last bite. "Well then it's settled. When's your shift over?" She asks.

"Well... technically I'm done the orders for today, but I have to stay around for another two hours." You say, glancing at the time on your phone.

"That's fine. I'll just do my homework here then." She says, grinning. "That okay?"

"Course, Chloe. You know I appreciate your company, I love ya." You say, deciding to pull out your new read from your bag.

"Awe, I love you too." She giggles. She takes a moment before speaking again. "Have you.. heard from him at all?" She asks timidly.

You frown slightly, your heart dropping. "No. Why?"

"Oh, okay." Chloe says, fiddling with her hands. "He asked me about you the other day." She looks up at you. "He's really sorry about what happened, you know."

"Good, he better be." You say curtly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I think you should talk to him." Chloe says abruptly. "I-I know you don't want to see him and you know I don't like the guy." She laughs before continuing. "But he looked devastated dude. Like, really upset that I wouldn't tell him anything about you." She says, pursing her lips with a sympathetic look. She stares at you, but you say nothing. "Just think about it, okay? It might be nice for you guys to resolve things. I know you're not happy about it either." She says.

"Yeah, I will." You say flatly, trying to focus on your novel. "I have more important things to do than think about that."

"Sorry but, were you there when you literally complained about it for half an hour over margaritas for movie night two days ago?" She recalls, raising a brow.

You shift your body from one foot to the other. "I was drunk, everyone complains about stupid shit when they're drunk." You argue, trying to read your book.

Chloe scoffs. "You're really stubborn, you know that?" She says, closing your book.

"Hey I was reading that!" You say, glaring at her.

"You can't keep avoiding him forever." Chloe says sternly. She sighs when she sees you frown. "I'm sorry, I just care about you a lot dude. I don't want you to keep feeling this way. You care about him, and he cares about you too. I can tell." She says softly, crossing her arms.

You hold your face in your hands, groaning like an overstimulated child. "If it'll make you happy," You throw your arms out in defeat. "I'll talk to him! Fine!" You exclaim.

"Thank you! Finally!" Chloe exasperates, mirroring your actions. "Jesus, Tashi owes me twenty dollars." She breathes out.

You gasp. "You guys betted on me?!"

Chloe stammers. "I-I uh, nooo..." You squint your eyes at her. "...Yes?" She squeaks. "Please don't be mad! We both wanted this to be over with!" She explains, holding your arms. "It's out of love."

A customer then walks in, causing the both of you to go quiet.

"We'll talk about this later." You mutter. "Hello! Welcome!" You greet the customer warmly. "Can I interest you in our Thanksgiving arrangements?"

-

"Do you think I should get this ornament for her? She likes cats." Chloe asks, holding up a felt ornament that resembled an orange tabby cat.

"You've literally been on one date." You point out.

"And? Have you ever heard of lesbianism?" Chloe retorts, putting the decoration back down.

"I thought you were all for breaking stereotypes, not becoming the definitive version of one." You jest, looking around.

Before hitting the rink, you and Chloe decided to see the Christmas market in downtown Manhattan. The various different stalls of gifts and treats galore were very alluring, but god was it expensive. You had decided to buy a hot coco the size of your hand made from pure chocolate, and that alone was creating a dent in your wallet.

"God Christ everything is so expensive." You say, although you knew your statement didn't make any difference. Most of the vendors were trying to make an income, it wasn't their fault. Well, for the most part at least.

"That's what makes it a New York Christmas, baby." Chloe states, doing some weird shake with her hands that resembled jazz hands.

"The closest thing we had to this back at home was my next door neighbor selling mulled wine for ten dollars." You explain flatly. "Capitalism is a beautiful thing." You hum, already finishing your hot chocolate. "I already finished my three ounce drink, what a pity." You say sarcastically, discarding it in a nearby bin.

"Let's just go skating then. I'm kind of over this too." Chloe says, rubbing her hands together. "Fuck my hands are cold." She complains, breathing on them heavy to warm them up.

"Didn't I remind you to pack gloves like four times this morning?" You recount, pulling out a spare pair from your messenger bag. "Take these."

"How would I survive with you?" Chloe says, kissing your cheek gingerly.

You grimace, wiping your cheek. "I'm surprised you haven't died yet, to be honest." You joke, the both of you laughing.

-

The two of you make it to the Wollman rink in Central Park, and to no surprise, had to buy admission.

"I can't believe it costed ten dollars to skate for an hour." You complain, tying up your rental skates.

Chloe doesn't respond right away, distracted by texting someone on her phone. You clear your throat.

"Huh?" She says looking up from her phone and putting it away in her pocket. "What were you saying?"

"Nevermind man." You say, dismissing your statement.

The two of you climb onto the ice, only taking a few strides before your skills came back to you. You held back a laugh as Chloe's legs wobbled, unable to let go of the railing.

"Chloe, it's not that hard I promise. Just push yourself forward." You say, reaching out to her. "You can hold onto me if you want!"

"Fuck no, I'm chill." She states firmly, putting a hand up. "Just give me some time to warm up. Go do some laps or something." She reassures, gesturing for you to go ahead.

"Alright then." You shrug, turning away. You glide gracefully across the ice, feeling the spirit of the holidays warm you up as Last Christmas By Wham! plays over the speakers. You're doing forward and backward spins, overjoyed by the reconnection of your old passion. You're grinning madly as you smoothly skate between people, nearby children very entertained by your moves.

You try to find Chloe, who seems to have disappeared. Confused, you slow down your pace, yet keep gliding in circles. You turn and face one of the entrances to the ice, seeing the last person you'd ever expect to.

Patrick is standing there, watching you from the edge of the rink.

You forget how to stop yourself, causing the loss of balance. Before you realize what's happening, you've landed on your back. You groan loudly as the ice makes contact with your body, knowing you were going to feel it tomorrow. "Shit." You whisper, wincing as you sit up and hold your head. That's what you get for being too cocky with your strides.

You hear the scuffling of shoes beside you, looking up to make eye contact with Patrick.

He looks at you with concern, a sheepish smile on his face. "If I was supposed to catch you, I did not get the memo." He jokes, offering a hand.

You glare at him, getting up by yourself and ignoring his offer to help. "Why are you here?" You ask passive aggressively, skating past him to step off the ice.

"To talk to you!" He exclaims, trying to keep pace with you. He nearly slips at least three times before stepping off the rink.

You're flustered, and very annoyed with his presence. "Well, you've spoken! You may leave now." You say bitterly, walking over to the worker in charge of shoe rentals in order to get your boots back.

"No, don't do this right now." Patrick pleas. He awkwardly waits for you as you ignore him, retrieving your shoes then sitting down on a bench to change out your skates. "Chloe said you wanted to talk, so I came here." He admits, crouching in front of you to meet your eyes. He places a hand on your knee.

You glare at him. "Chloe told you to come here? No wonder she was on her phone so much." You mutter, taking off your skates and also knocking off his touch from your knee.

"Can we please go somewhere else and talk?" He asks, nearly begging you on his knees. You continue to pretend you don't hear him, putting on your shoes then getting up to hand over your skates to the worker, thanking him.

"You can't ignore me forever." Patrick exasperates, getting up and following you as you start walking away from the rink.

"Where's Chloe?" You ask yourself, looking around for your friend.

"She's with Art," Patrick explains. You finally look at him, confused. "He came with me." He says.

You roll your eyes, readjusting your scarf as the two of you continue to walk through the park. You finally decide to sit down on a nearby bench, allowing space for Patrick to sit beside you. You didn't feel like walking away from him anymore.

He does so hesitantly, looking at you from the corner of his eye. "We've both been avoiding each other," He says calmly, sighing. "I don't understand why."

You stay quiet, looking forward.

"Are you choosing to become a mute right now?" He asks, still no response from you. "Fine, alright then." He says, leaning back against the bench. "I've missed this, you know. Your stubbornness." He says, now looking right at you, the side of your face at least. "And you." He adds quietly.

You then finally look at him, your heart skipping a beat as the two of you make eye contact. "Anything else?" You say flatly, as if it was obvious that he would miss someone as great as you.

Patrick scoffs, laughing as well. "Nope, that's it." He jokes, sitting up straight. "I um, I wanted to apologize." His tone switches, sounding very sincere. "What happened last month was very out of line, and I shouldn't have done what I did. I guess I didn't like the fact that your attention wasn't on me for some selfish reason, but that doesn't mean I should've kissed you." He admits, sighing. "That was very uncool, and I shouldn't have led you on like that." He finishes.

You look down at the ground for a moment, taking in his words. You wanted to tell him that you wish he'd kiss you like he meant it, not that he was being selfish and thinking with his groin. You knew what was best, and feeling a little hesitant about accepting his apology.

"Can you please say something?" He says quietly, frowning at you slightly.

You look back up at him. "I'm not sure what you want me to say." You mumble, tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear. "I have been thinking this over a lot, you know." You look up at him. "I'm also sorry for how I reacted. You didn't deserve for me to just cut you off without explanation." You reason.

Patrick smiles weakly at you. "Don't apologize please. I deserved that. Made me more insightful if anything." He tries to joke, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yeah, you needed that more than most." You joke, nudging Patrick. He chuckles slightly. "I forgive you." You finally say, smiling at him. "I-"

"But-" He starts to say.

"Sorry, go ahead." You say.

"No, you first." He insists.

You nod, taking a moment. You're grateful for his apology, that is evident. However, you have to make a decision for the better. You're not just looking to fill the void of what you thought could've been, but rather to move forward in a healthy way. If he didn't feel the same, it wasn't worth confessing to anything.

"I want us to be friends, Patrick." You say adamantly, looking at Patrick for a response. You watch as his face falters, quickly covering it up with a meek smile.

"I think that's a good idea, yeah." He says, although not sounding very confident in his own words.

You search in his face whether or not he was lying. You couldn't read him, you were never good at it. "You don't sound so sure of yourself." You say, laughing awkwardly.

Patrick shakes his head, smiling even more. "Sorry, I am. I want us to be friends." He says affirmatively, although he wasn't sure if he was just saying out loud to convince himself.

"Good." You smile. "I missed you too, dumbass." You say, raising your hand for a high five.

Patrick stares at you for a moment, laughing before smacking your hand with his own. "You're so fucking weird."

You gasp. "What? I'm not a big hugger." You say in defense.

"That's fine." Patrick says, sticking his hands in his pockets and leaning back. "I didn't wanna hug you anyways." He shrugs.

You eye him closely for a few moments before going in, hugging him from the side hastily. His eyes widen, letting your warmth fill him up before he slowly hugs you back. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he really liked the sensation of getting a hug from you, even if it was against your own wishes.

-

A few days later, Patrick is spending the night at your place. You had both met up to do homework together earlier that day, you suggesting if he wanted to come over to watch some comedy movies together.

"How is a sheet of moist supposed to make my skin look better? I feel like a snail has ran across it." Patrick asks monotonously, trying not to move his face so much.

You both were wearing sheet masks that resemble cartoonish animals, managing to convince him to do some self care together to rewind on a Sunday evening.

"Wait, don't move." You pull your phone out and take a photo of him.

He simply stares up at you from the desk chair.

"Oh Jesus." You say, laughing manically as you look back at the photo. Your facemask starts coming off, deciding to discard it entirely.

"What? Do I not look beautiful like you promised?" Patrick asks, feigning being upset. He also takes off his mask, throwing it away.

"You look just fine, now hold on."You exit your room and grab a face towel from the bathroom, dabbing the excess moisturizer before returning to your room and handing it over to him. "I also have a gua sha I'm gonna use on your face, is that okay?" You ask.

He furrows his brows at you, dabbing his own face now. "A what now?" He says, utterly confused by the item he's never heard of before.

You retrieve your gua sha from your desk drawer. "It's to de-puff your face and make sure you have good circulation. I'll be gentle, I promise." You say in a taunting manner, grabbing ahold of his chin to tilt his face up towards you.

He stares at you as you glide the rose quartz stone across his face slowly, focusing on his bone structure. "It feels cold." He whispers, staring into your eyes a little too intensely.

"It's supposed to feel good, Patrick." You tell him.

"It does." He simply says, keeping eye contact with you. The both of you stare at each other for a moment as your movements cease.

You clear your throat, walking away to sit at your vanity and use the gua sha on yourself. "This is what a lot of women do every day, you know." you say matter-of-factly.

"Why? It makes no sense. These extra serums and shit, it's like witchcraft or something." He mumbles, his face flushed red. You assume you may have put too much pressure on his skin, not that he was flustered in any way. No, surely not. "All women are beautiful." He states, moving over to your bed.

"I know you think that, most of them can't escape your wrath." You say smugly, putting away your skincare.

"What? You jealous or something?" He says playfully, laying on his side with his arm holding up his head. "You had your chance."

"Oh how will I ever live?" You sigh dramatically. "Oh right, peacefully." You remark, getting up to join him on your bed.

Patrick sticks his tongue out at you in response.

"Very mature, Zweig." You say, leaning against the headboard as you grab the remote and turn on a streaming service.

"Have you seen the new Thor movie yet?" He asks, sitting up to lean his back against the wall.

"Nope, why you ask?" You say, putting on Glee.

He groans. "Glee? Seriously? You're just like my sister."

"It's fun! just watch a few episodes with me."

"I have no options, I know." He says in defeat. "But I was wondering if you wanted to see Thor on Friday." He asks.

You almost say yes, but realize very quickly that you were unavailable, because of a date. "I can't, sorry. I'm actually already going to the movies with someone else." You say, shrugging as you focus on the television.

The day after you and Patrick reconciled, a very attractive man you recognized from campus came into your work. He hung around for an hour, simply conversating with you before asking you out on a date later on in the week. His name was Seth.

"And who's more important than me?" He says, pointing to himself.

"If you must know, I have a date." You state, grabbing your diet coke off the coaster and taking a sip.

Patrick smirks, eyeing you closely. "Ooh, a date. With who?"

"Does it matter?" You quip. "It's just some guy."

"It can't be just some guy if you, the pickiest person of all time, said yes to him." Patrick states, poking your leg. "Just tell me! Maybe I know the guy."

You purse your lips before deciding to tell him. "His name is Aaron, he studies Art History at school."

"Hmm, doesn't ring a bell. Sounds like a total fucking nerd if you ask me." He mumbles, turning his head to face the television.

"Well good thing I didn't, Patrick." You say in annoyance.

"Why are you always so defensive? I'm just asking you a question." He whines, tilting his head back.

Sorry, I just didn't think you'd care so much." You say, repositioning yourself.

"I'm your friend, I think it's fair give a shit about you sometimes." He argues. "Especially if you're dating randos."

"He's not a rando, I met him at work. Not on the internet mom." You say sarcastically, causing Patrick to laugh in response.

"Still, he could be a weirdo and you just don't know it yet." He tries to explain, speaking mainly with his hands. "He could lead you to a vacant parking lot at midnight then kill you, or other evil things." He says.

"You're starting to sound like those podcasts you've been listening to. Fucking relax." You say firmly. "Nothing is gonna happen. He's taking me to see Gravity at the movies and that is all. Dinner too, I think. I don't know where because he's surprising me." You simply state.

"Gravity? I thought you had a fear of space." Patrick says quizzically, furrowing his brows.

"Well I tried suggesting that remake of Carrie, but he hates horror movies." You admit.

"But you love horror movies?" Patrick says rhetorically, scoffing. "He already sounds like a horrible match, maybe I'm just crazy though." He says, putting his hands up before clasping them together in his lap.

"If I didn't know you already, I'd say you're jealous." You mutter.

Patrick reaches over you, taking the remote and pausing the television. "I'm not." He says firmly. "I just don't want you to waste your time on someone not worthwhile and you're ignoring the fact."

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?" You snap, laughing out of annoyance. "It's just a fucking date, it's not like I'm gonna marry the guy. Christ Patrick." You exclaim, standing up from your bed.

Patrick sighs. "I know, I know." He says. "Calm down, you're taking my word too seriously!" He argues, staying on your bed.

"Just drop it, okay? I don't wanna talk about it anymore. Clearly it's a sensitive topic for some reason."

"It's not! God, no it's not." Patrick tries to reason. "I'm sorry, it's not that serious. I just care about you."

You glare at him, crossing your arms. "You mean it?"

"I mean it." He heavily accentuates. "I hope it goes well, for your sake." He says.

"Yeah, me too." You say, although now unsure of yourself. "Me too." You whisper to yourself.

-

It's Friday, November 29th. The cusp of the true holiday season, and the end of a drought for your romantic conquests.

The date was going great, incredible even. The two of you got along swell, and any worries you had about him has dissipated as the night went on. You and Aaron just had some Italian dinner at a restaurant a block away, and had just set foot into the movie theatre. It was small, but had its unique charm that has stood against time.

"You excited for the movie? It has great reviews so far." He grins, hand in hand with you.

"I'm not great with space stuff to be honest, but I'm stoked nonetheless." You admit, smiling shyly.

"Really?" Aaron's eyes widen. "You should've told me, we don't have to see it..." He says, halting the two of you in front of the snack counter.

"No, it's fine. It's not a bother." You say, smiling.

The two of you are now in the screening room, waiting patiently as advertisements cross over the screen. Aaron is already eating his popcorn, and you're scrolling aimlessly on your phone. You see a new Instagram post from Patrick, recognizing the photo had been taken by you.

pat_zweig 【┘】 4 hr

❤︎‬ 213 likes, 9 comments

pat_zweig: naughty or nice?

You laugh quietly to yourself, leaving a comment on his post.

loverg1rl: you're getting coal in your stocking. photo creds btw? hello

You put away your phone, turning it off as the movie begins. You can't help but redirect your thoughts over to Patrick, wondering if he was enjoying his evening. Maybe you'd be watching Thor: The Dark World with him, and enjoying it a lot more than the motion sickness you're about to endure due to the outer space set up.

You start thinking about how this date would go if it was with Patrick instead, finding yourself slowly imagining him instead of Aaron. You knew it was bad, horrible even. You couldn't help yourself, he's left such an impact on you since you moved to the big apple.

Patrick Zweig was something you could not have, no matter how much you wish you could. It was pointless, everything would end in flames if you tried. Why not? You'd ask yourself, but why? You also say.

You look over at Aaron, smiling when he makes eye contact with you. Without thinking, you lean in and kiss him. He kisses you back, and it feels wonderful. This is how it's supposed to be; no pain, just pleasure. You ignore the feeling that you're forcing yourself, you just aren't used to Aaron yet.

You'll learn to like someone else, even if they're not who you really want.

The movie ends. You find yourself outside with Aaron, the cold air engulfing the two of you.

"That was insane, maybe of my favorite movie of the year." Aaron says, smiling wildly.

"It was good, yeah." You say casually, checking your phone. Patrick texted you, his name saved as the one he put in your phone as.

Patrick the Almighty: how's the date? i'm at art's. chloe's here, we're watching glee. thinking of you

You smile fondly at your screen.

"How are you getting home tonight?" Aaron asks, taking your attention away from your phone.

"Oh, my cousin is picking me up." You say, putting your phone in your pocket.

"I see, the tennis star right?" He says, referring to your conversation from dinner.

"Yes, the tennis star." You laugh. "I'm sleeping over at her house, so." You add.

"That's very cute, I haven't had a sleepover with my cousins since I was a kid." Aaron says, looking off to the side for a moment before returning his gaze to you. "I can wait with you, if that's okay." He suggests.

"Sure, I'd like that a lot actually." You say, grinning madly.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Aaron asks, pulling out a pack of what you presumed to be cigarettes.

"Go ahead, I smoke too." You say.

"Weed?" He asks, almost giddy to hear you say it.

"Oh, no... cigarettes." You say sheepishly.

"Oh!" He says, raising his brows. "These are joints, sorry." He says, referring to the pack in his hands. He takes one and sticks it in his mouth. "Is that alright still?"

"Yeah, course. I've had it a few times before, back in Canada." You say, zipping up your jacket as the cold breeze creeps under your blouse.

He nods, lighting up the joint. "Did you... Want some?" He asks, inhaling then exhaling the joint.

You stand in silence for a moment, debating. "Yeah, sure."

He hands the joint over, allowing you to take hold of it.

You bring it to your mouth and inhale, holding it like a cigarette. You exhale, coughing a few times but holding your composure. "Fuck. That shit bites." You wince, taking another hit before handing it back to him.

Aaron laughs, taking the joint back gingerly. A vehicle pulls up beside the two of you, Tashi revealed in the driver's seat as the window rolls down.

"Gotta go." You say, tilting your head towards the car. "I'll see you, yeah?" You grin, giving Aaron a wink as you open the passenger seat.

"Yeah, see you." He says, inhaling his joint and giving you a small wave before you close the door.

"Well well well," Tashi grins, driving away. "He's fucking hot." She says, tapping on the wheel in sync with the music.

"Oh, I know." You say, the joint taking over your senses. "I smoked weed with him." You say abruptly, giggling profusely.

"Are you high?" Tashi asks, gasping as a smirk grows on her face.

"Mmm, a little." You grin, pressing your cold hands to your warm cheeks.

"You must've had a good time then." She laughs, looking over at you quickly. "My mom has some news to tell us once we get to the house, so I hope you can keep it together."

"What?" You gasp, turning to face Tashi. "What is it? Tell me now!" Your urge, grabbing her arm.

"Hey, I'm driving!" She exclaims, swatting your arm away.

"Sorry, sorry!" You apologize, sitting back in your seat. "Is it to celebrate your exam results?" You ask, your stomach grumbling. "I'm hungry." You whisper.

Tashi laughs profusely, trying to hold it together for the rest of the ride. "Well, kind of. It's to celebrate us both." She says, her smile never leaving her face.

"Can we go to Mcdonalds? I want a happy meal." You say, rolling the window down.

"It's cold! Don't do that!" Tashi warns, rolling the window back up with her driver control.

"But I'm too hot!" You exasperate.

Tashi groans, turning off the heat in the car. "You're too high." She argues, turning into the closest Mcdonalds.

-

You enter the Duncan household with Tashi, managing to sober up a bit after your nugget meal and finishing off the bottle of water your cousin keeps in the car as always.

"Mom! We're here!" Tashi yells, leading you into the living room.

Diane and Mike were sitting on the couch, Diane with a book and Mike with amaretto on the rocks, his usual. The radio plays in the distance.

"Hello girls." Diane grins, putting her book down. "How was the date?" She asks you directly, catching you off guard.

"Oh, it was great, yeah." You say quietly, looking down at your hands.

"He's very nice to look at, and seems to be very nice mom. He's good friends with Emeline, from my ethics class." Tashi adds, sitting down in a nearby armchair. You quickly sit down as well.

"Has Tashi told you the big news yet?" Diane grins, clasping her hands together.

"Erm, no. No yet... What's going on?" You ask, giggling awkwardly.

"We are going... To Italy!" She exclaims, waiting for your reaction.

You gasp, covering your mouth with your hands. "No fucking way!" You exclaim, cheering with Tashi.

"We're going with Michelle and her family, we hadn't gone travelling together since we were in college so..." Diane adds, watching both of your faces falter slightly.

"Michelle? As in the Zweigs?" You ask, mouth slightly agape. You quickly pull out your phone to text back Patrick.

"Yes, that Michelle." Diane says, laughing. She notices the look on your faces. "That's fine, right? You're both good friends with Patrick I figured it was okay?" She says.

You: we're going to fucking italy????

He texts you back instantly.

Patrick the Almighty: my mom just called me about it. isn't this fucking awesome??

You forcibly smile towards Diane, still a bit too high to comprehend it. "No, it's great." You say through gritted teeth, exchanging worried glances with Tashi.

Great. Fucking awesome.

-

this took awhile sorry guys,,,,, ive been watching rivals and my mind is running with ideas. see you in the next one!