#buy unlocked phones nyc

[antiqueestatebuyers]

Unveiling the Legacy of D&J Antique Buyers: Premier Antique Buyers in NYC

In the bustling metropolis of New York City, where history and culture intertwine, D&J Antique Buyers stands as a beacon of excellence in antique acquisition. With a rich legacy of expertise and integrity, D&J Antique Buyers has earned a reputation as the go-to destination for individuals seeking to sell their prized antiques. Specialising in a diverse range of treasures, including Chinese antiques, D&J Antique Buyers offers a seamless and transparent process for sellers looking to unlock the actual value of their items. In this article, we delve into the world of D&J Antique Buyers and explore their unparalleled services, commitment to excellence, and the unique allure of Chinese antiques.

Discovering D&J Antique Buyers: A Legacy of Excellence

Nestled in the heart of Manhattan, antique buyers in Manhattan boast a legacy of excellence spanning decades. Founded on principles of integrity, professionalism, and personalised service, D&J Antique Buyers has become a trusted name in the antique industry, serving clients from all walks of life with passion and dedication.

Services Offered by D&J Antique Buyers

Antique Buyers NYC: D&J Antique Buyers offers comprehensive antique buying services in New York City, catering to individuals looking to sell their treasured possessions. From rare collectables to fine art and everything in between, D&J Antique Buyers provides expert appraisals and fair offers for various antiques.

Chinese Antique Buyers: With a deep appreciation for Chinese art and culture, D&J Antique Buyers specialises in acquiring Chinese antique buyers. From intricately carved jade sculptures to delicate porcelain vases, D&J antique recognise Chinese artefacts' beauty and historical significance and offer competitive prices for these coveted items.

Why Choose D&J Antique Buyers?

Expertise: Backed by a team of seasoned professionals and appraisers, D&J Antique Buyers brings unparalleled expertise to every transaction. Their in-depth knowledge of antique valuation, market trends, and historical significance ensures sellers receive accurate assessments and fair valuations for their items.

Transparency: D&J Antique Buyers operates with transparency and integrity in all their dealings. From initial consultations to final transactions, they provide clear and honest communication, ensuring that sellers are fully informed and comfortable throughout the process.

Personalised Service: At D&J Antique Buyers, clients are treated with the highest care and attention. Their personalised approach means sellers receive individualised guidance and support tailored to their unique needs and preferences.

Fair Offers: D&J Antique Buyers is committed to offering fair and competitive prices for their purchase items. Their goal is to ensure that sellers receive maximum value for their antiques while providing a smooth and hassle-free selling experience.

The Allure of Chinese Antiques

Chinese antiques hold a special allure for collectors and enthusiasts around the world. With a history spanning thousands of years, Chinese art and culture have produced some of the world's most exquisite and sought-after artifacts. From stunning jade carvings to elegant silk paintings, Chinese antiques are prized for their beauty, craftsmanship, and historical significance.

Selling to D&J Antique Buyers: A Seamless Process

Selling your antiques to D&J Antique Buyers is a straightforward and convenient process:

Consultation: Schedule a consultation with D&J Antique Buyers to discuss the items you wish to sell. Depending on your preference and location, this can be done in person, over the phone, or through email.

Appraisal: D&J antique buyers nyc will thoroughly appraise your items to determine their authenticity, condition, and market value. This appraisal is free of charge and without obligation to sell.

Offer: D&J Antique Buyers will present a fair and competitive offer for your items once the appraisal is complete. If you accept the offer, they will proceed with the purchasing process.

Transaction: Depending on your preference and logistical considerations, the transaction can be completed in person or remotely. D&J Antique Buyers will handle all aspects of the transaction, including payment and transportation of the items if necessary.

Conclusion

In conclusion, D&J Antique Buyers is a premier destination for individuals looking to sell their antiques in New York City. With their expertise, transparency, and commitment to customer satisfaction, D&J Antique Buyers provides a seamless and rewarding experience for sellers seeking to unlock the actual value of their items. Whether you have a single antique or an entire collection to sell, trust D&J Antique Buyers to provide the highest level of service and integrity at every step.

[theplatinumplayboy]

Making Amends // Max & Kris

It had been quite awhile since Max had fucked up this badly- and here he'd thought he'd left that side of him in the past. Well, not completely- he got into shit, it was just in his nature. But the part of him that seemed to have a natural inclination to get into shit that hurt the ones he loved... he'd thought that was a door that had closed.

Apparently, he'd been wrong. And even worse, he was the one that had ripped that door right back open, flung it wide and let all that ugliness pour back out.

He didn't even know why he'd done it. When Kris had accused him of not wanting to talk because he didn't have any answers... he hated to admit it, but she was right. He really didn't have any good answers. Shit, he didn't even have any bad ones, not really.

All he knew was that he'd been out of sorts ever since he'd quite literally bumped into Kaleb backstage at Dark the previous week. He'd been walking and texting, not paying attention, when he'd accidentally shoulder-checked someone in the hall. He'd looked up to apologize, and there he fucking was, that smug, ugly face of his, the man reaching out a hand to pat Max firmly on the shoulder, congratulating him on becoming a father.

And the worst part of it was that Max hadn't done anything. Despite everything he'd said over the years about wanting to kick the guy's ass if he ever saw him, he'd frozen. He'd been caught completely off-guard, had had no idea Kaleb had even been there, and the ice-cold of his shock had rendered his limbs useless, unable to do anything more than gape at the man as he'd walked away.

The anger had come eventually, replacing the shock in a burning hot wave, but it was too late- by the time it showed up, Kaleb was gone and Max had no idea where he'd went. The anger had lingered, Max trying to push it aside to no avail, to ignore it, to will it away.

But it just wouldn't leave.

And now here he was, in the same place his anger always got him- lashing out at people he shouldn't, hurting those he cared about. It had escalated far beyond what it should have, ending with Kris going home and Max in a hotel room by himself.

Once he'd had a few hours to cool down, the regret had set in, the realization of how deeply he'd fucked up... and the worst part, the guilt. Part of him had wanted to call Kris, to apologize right then and there, but he knew that was a bad idea- she wasn't really someone you wanted to be around when she was mad; neither of them needed her alien instincts taking over and making her do something she'd regret.

He'd thought of texting her an apology, but he was afraid she'd find that a cop-out, a bandage, and that it would only make things worse. And so he'd forced himself to set his phone aside and tried to sleep. Tried was the key word, most of the night spent miserably tossing and turning, falling in and out of fitful sleep.

The first thing he'd done when he'd woken up way too early was booking the soonest flight he could back to NYC. The second thing he'd done, once the flight had landed, was buy the biggest bouquet of flowers he could find. And then he'd headed home, stopping only once more to pick up two glazed donuts for her, reminiscent of their first date all those years ago.

He'd be lucky if she didn't smash those donuts in his face before beating him over the head with the flowers.

Actually, he'd be lucky if she didn't just unhinge her jaw and eat him alive. Literally.

Nervously adjusting his cap on his head, Max left his stuff in the car, opting only to bring the apology offerings inside with him. He thought of maybe knocking, ringing the bell and waiting for her to come to the door... but then again, maybe she wouldn't come to the door at all.

"Kris?" Her name was spoken as he unlocked the door, letting himself tentatively inside and dropping his keys on the end table they had by the door. "You home?"

@maxsbitch

[astoriaphonerepair]

Benefits of Getting Your Phone Repaired Than Buying a New One

It feels difficult to even think of spending an entire day without our mobile phones. This is due to the fact that we have integrated these smart devices in our lives in a demanding way. Our phones serve various purposes that are almost impossible to derive from any other gear or gadget.

 Today's smartphones are really smart devices with tons of features packed into a sleek case. Whether you are thinking of various designs from multiple brands out there or considering the main models popularized by leading brands like Apple and Samsung, every model can suffer sudden damages or can malfunction at any time. That is the riskiest thing about smartphones. As we are dependent on these devices for a number of daily requirements, a single day with a damaged phone can be difficult for most of us.

 Fortunately, if you are residing in NYC, you do not need to worry about getting your phone damaged. In New York, you can get qualified personnel for your Samsung phone repair. Even if you are using any other model from a different company also get top-quality service from the professionals.

 You might also think of buying a new phone but that is not the best choice every time. Experts believe that buying a new phone is the last consideration you should make. However, if you decide to buy unlocked phones in NYC, that is going to be a different experience altogether. The wisest choice is to get your phone repaired. To justify this idea, some renowned professionals from NYC have emphasized a few benefits of repairing an existing phone.

 Let us take a look at the benefits of repairing a damaged phone:

 ●       Economic - If you consider the expenses of buying a new phone and compare it with repairing your old one, the cost of repairing will be nowhere close to buying a new one. Except for the most unfortunate incidents when your phone has suffered serious damage, it is always wise to get your phone repaired.

 ●       Quick and easy - Getting your phone repaired is the easiest and convenient way to get back to work. Nowadays our phones have become the powerhouses of data and important information. Whenever you buy a new phone, you not only invite new expenses, you also invite a series of tasks. You have to get the data from your old phone, transfer it to your new one, sync your new device with all the accounts, install all the apps, and do a lot more to get going. Therefore, the easiest way is to get your old phone repaired from an Apple or Samsung phone repair service center.

●       Increased usability - When you choose to get your phone repaired, you are actually making your long-time device more reliable. This is because qualified personnel will check your phone thoroughly while fixing the addressed issue. In the process of thoroughly checking, all other issues will come out and your phone will perform much better than before.  

 Conclusion - Now that you know the benefits of getting your phone repaired, you can understand why it is not the wisest choice to go for a new phone. You can buy unlocked phones in NYC, or get your old phone repaired from a Samsung phone repair center.

 Contact Astoria Phone Repair Now for a Quote: (718) 777-8643 

Visit the store at: 31-89 Steinway Street, Astoria, NYC, NY - 11103

Sources: https://www.astoriaphonerepair.com/blog/benefits-of-getting-your-phone-repaired-than-buying-a-new-one/

[huntergatherercreator]

The Takedown | Part Eight

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Detective Reader

Summary: NYC has a new drug lord determined to wipe out any and all competition in order to grow his empire. You're going undercover to stop him.

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, blood, violence, some swearing and derogatory terms

Catch up here:

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

Part 8 - 1,262 Words

I found myself pacing the small room. If he was working with someone else from the inner circle then he wouldn’t have come alone. He’d have had sufficient back-up to ensure they tied up their loose ends properly. Coming alone could only mean he was double crossing Holland. That, combined with the fact I didn’t believe Arnold was smart enough to conduct an assassination attempt on his own, had me staring at the phone in my hand itching to call the number. I resisted. I had to gather more information first.

I’d also have to make a decision as to what to do with him. Handing him over to Holland seemed the logical reason. It would permanently stop Arnold trying to hunt me down again, and would earn me more points. My gut twisted at the way my brain casually accepted a man’s death as justifiable. I tried to remind myself that once I handed him over whatever happened to him was out of my hands but it didn’t stop the nausea from building at the thought. Taking a deep breath I knew I had to get out of the cramped room. I had to think this through without the prone body of Arnold lying before me like an omen.

Retrieving the clip from under the washer I returned to my apartment. I showered quickly to get rid of the grime from our scuffle. The rush of the water let me drown out everything until I was focused enough to come up with a plan. I re-wrapped my arm and put on a fresh set of workout gear topped with a hoodie large enough to conceal the gun. I had my own stashed throughout the apartment but I’d rather not use one that linked back to my alias. The kitchenette had a small table accompanied by two cheap fold up chairs. I grabbed one on my way back to the basement.

Arnold was stirring slightly. I moved him onto the chair, tying him to it. It wouldn’t hold him for long if he started to struggle but that didn’t matter, I only needed it to last long enough to get his confession. I set my phone up on one of the electrical boxes lining the room and waited.

He eventually came to, eyes bleary and unfocused suddenly widening with panic as he realised he couldn’t move. Head darting up he saw me standing before him and his fear dulled, anger bubbling up to replace it.

I’d planned to interrogate him as I normally would, level headed and pragmatic but that would give me away as being a cop. Instead I’d resort to something different, something that he’d respond to.

Pushing my sleeves up Arnold clicked onto the situation. He scoffed a laugh.

“Am I supposed to be intimidated by you? You’re nothing but a filthy-” His head cracked back as I landed a sharp blow to his already broken nose.

“Last night, you took off before we were shot at. You knew there was someone waiting didn’t you?” He spat blood onto the floor then shrugged his shoulders. I made a show of aiming for his face again and he flinched.

“Tell me what you know,” I demanded. He glowered at me, waves of hatred rolling off him. I hit him again, this time in the gut. I watched him splutter as he tried to catch his breath.

“Last chance, Sam.”

He sneered as he wheezed out, “You think the information will earn something from Holland? A quick ride on his dick like all the other whores desperately trying to get at his money? His power? He wouldn’t look at you twice. No man would.”

I took him in, bloodied and bound to my kitchen chair trying to antagonise me. Stalking closer I crouched until we were eye level.

“This is simply revenge for pulling me into your mess and getting me shot.” I smiled as I caught his breath hitch.

“Holland’s the reason we were in that alley. It’s him you want.” Tugging at his bindings his eyes started to wander around the room. Grabbing his jaw I forced his attention back to me.

“I have a confession to make. I already know who you had the arrangement with, I already spoke to them.” I dangled his phone before him, “I just wanted to give you the chance to tell me and save yourself from being mailed back to them piece by piece.”

Paling his eyes darted between the phone and me before narrowing. “Marco wouldn’t let you do that. He’ll have sent someone for me,” he insisted. I shuffled my mental rolodex for the name.

“Marco Rivera? Head of the Hellions?” The way he froze like a deer in headlights was confirmation enough, but I wanted him to say it.

“Am I right?” I gripped his chin tighter.

“Yes.” He spat, humiliation burning through him. Releasing him I made my way to the phone. His face twisted as he realised what I’d done and how he’d been tricked.

“You stupid bitch. You don’t know what you’re getting involved in.” Circling him I checked the ropes were still holding then unlocked his phone again. “If Holland doesn’t kill you Rivera will.” Arnold continued to throw threats at me that I ignored. Forwarding the video over to his phone I cropped it and sent the first few minutes off.

“I’d worry more about what’s about to happen to you,” I suggested, giving him a fleeting glance as I exited the maintenance room.

I was perched on a dryer when Arnold’s phone finally rang. I didn’t need to check to caller ID to know it was him. Steeling myself I connected the call.

It was silent for a moment then upbeat tones of muzak filtered through. It unnerved me that despite the city wide man hunt for him he was apparently going about his business as usual.

“You sure know how to get someone’s attention.” My tension dissolved slightly at his even tone, I’d been expecting the same confrontation as last night.

“I want you to take him. In return, I’ll give you the second half of the video where he names who he’s working for.”

“Is this your attempt at a negotiation?” he quipped.

“Given that I hold all the advantage here it wouldn’t be fair to call it a negotiation. I’d say it’s more of a courtesy call.”

A low laugh trickled down the line. “Your ‘advantage’ is thanks to luck and brute force. It doesn’t take a genius to intimidate someone.”

“I’m not referring to what Arnold told me. I’m talking about what’s owed from saving your life, and for buying my silence about you.” The line crackled and I could hear his footsteps stop.

“Ah, a blackmail attempt. Original.” His words oozed sarcasm. There was a click of a door opening and closing and a slight exhale as he evidently sat down. “Go on then, what’s my secret?”

I took a second to measure up how this would play out. Telling him now could risk everything, but it could also force his hand.

“You’re not from Brooklyn.” A laugh was his only reaction.

“You’re not from Brooklyn, you’re not even from the US.” I hadn’t had a chance to fully narrow down where his accent was from but I’d watched enough overseas television to know it was English. He’d stopped laughing. For a long minute he didn’t speak. I gripped the edge of the washer praying I hadn’t pushed too far.

“Wagner Cove in an hour.” The line disconnected.

------

Taglist:

@spideylovin

@lukesbabylon

@panicattheeverywherekid

@keep-bears-wild

@unbelievableholland

@tomholland-mcu

@whattheheckparker

Part Nine is here!

[warninggraphiccontent]

16 July 2021

Food for thought

At last week's Data Bites, I noted how 'Wales' is a standard unit of area. This week, along comes a map which shows that all the built-up land in the UK is equivalent to one Wales:

The map is from the National Food Strategy, published yesterday (and the man has a point).

It has divided opinion, judging by the responses to this tweet. I understand where the sceptics are coming from - at first glance, it may be confusing, given Wales isn't actually entirely built up, Cornwall made of peat, or Shetland that close to the mainland (or home to all the UK's golf courses). And I'm often critical of people using maps just because the data is geographical in some way, when a different, non-map visualisation would be better.

But I actually think this one works. Using a familiar geography to represent areas given over to particular land use might help us grasp it more readily (urban areas = size of Wales, beef and lamb pastures = more of the country than anything else). It's also clear that a huge amount of overseas land is needed to feed the UK, too.

The map has grabbed people's attention and got them talking, which is no bad thing. And it tells the main stories I suspect its creators wanted to. In other words, it's made those messages... land.

Trash talk

Happy Take Out The Trash Day!

Yesterday saw A LOT of things published by Cabinet Office - data on special advisers, correspondence with parliamentarians, public bodies and major projects to name but a few, and the small matter of the new plans outlining departmental priorities and how their performance will be measured.

It's great that government is publishing this stuff. It's less great that too much of it still involves data being published in PDFs not spreadsheets. And it's even less great that the ignoble tradition of Take Out The Trash Day continues, for all the reasons here (written yesterday) and here (written in 2017).

I know this isn't (necessarily) deliberate, and it's a lot of good people working very hard to get things finished before the summer (as my 2017 piece acknowledges). And it's good to see government being transparent.

But it's 2021, for crying out loud. The data collection should be easier. The use of this data in government should be more widespread to begin with.

We should expect better.

In other news:

I was really pleased to have helped the excellent team at Transparency International UK (by way of some comments on a draft) with their new report exploring access and influence in UK housing policy, House of Cards. Read it here.

One of our recent Data Bites speakers, Doug Gurr, is apparently in the running to run the NHS. More here.

Any excuse to plug my Audrey Tang interview.

The good folk at ODI Leeds/The Data City/the ODI have picked up and run with my (and others') attempt to map the UK government data ecosystem. Do help them out.

Five years ago this week...

Regarding last week's headline of Three Lines on a Chart: obviously I was going to.

Have a great weekend

Gavin

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Today's links:

Graphic content

Vax populi

Why vaccine-shy French are suddenly rushing to get jabbed* (The Economist)

Morning update on Macron demolishing French anti-vax feeling (or at least vax-hesitant) (Sophie Pedder via Nicolas Berrod)

How Emmanuel Macron’s “health passes” have led to a surge in vaccine bookings in France* (New Statesman)

How effective are coronavirus vaccines against the Delta variant?* (FT)

England faces the sternest test of its vaccination strategy* (The Economist)

Where Are The Newest COVID Hot Spots? Mostly Places With Low Vaccination Rates (NPR)

There's A Stark Red-Blue Divide When It Comes To States' Vaccination Rates (NPR)

All talk, no jabs: the reality of global vaccine diplomacy* (Telegraph)

Vaccination burnout? (Reuters)

Viral content

COVID-19: Will the data allow the government to lift restrictions on 19 July? (Sky News)

UK Covid-19 rates are the highest of any European country after Cyprus* (New Statesman)

COVID-19: Cautionary tale from the Netherlands' coronavirus unlocking - what lessons can the UK learn? (Sky News)

‘Inadequate’: Covid breaches on the rise in Australia’s hotel quarantine (The Guardian)

Side effects

COVID-19: Why is there a surge in winter viruses at the moment? (Sky News)

London Beats New York Back to Office, by a Latte* (Bloomberg)

Outdoor dining reopened restaurants for all — but added to barriers for disabled* (Washington Post)

NYC Needs the Commuting Crowds That Have Yet to Fully Return* (Bloomberg)

Politics and government

Who will succeed Angela Merkel?* (The Economist)

Special advisers in government (Tim for IfG)

How stingy are the UK’s benefits? (Jamie Thunder)

A decade of change for children's services funding (Pro Bono Economics)

National Food Strategy (independent review for UK Government)

National Food Strategy: Tax sugar and salt and prescribe veg, report says (BBC News)

Air, space

Can Wizz challenge Ryanair as king of Europe’s skies?* (FT)

Air passengers have become much more confrontational during the pandemic* (The Economist)

Branson and Bezos in space: how their rocket ships compare* (FT)

Sport

Euro 2020: England expects — the long road back to a Wembley final* (FT)

Most football fans – and most voters – support the England team taking the knee* (New Statesman)

Domestic violence surges after a football match ends* (The Economist)

The Most Valuable Soccer Player In America Is A Goalkeeper (FiveThirtyEight)

Sport is still rife with doping* (The Economist)

Wimbledon wild card success does not disguise financial challenge* (FT)

Can The U.S. Women’s Swim Team Make A Gold Medal Sweep? (FiveThirtyEight)

Everything else

Smoking: How large of a global problem is it? And how can we make progress against it? (Our World in Data)

Record June heat in North America and Europe linked to climate change* (FT)

Here’s a list of open, non-code tools that I use for #dataviz, #dataforgood, charity data, maps, infographics... (Lisa Hornung)

Meta data

Identity crisis

A single sign-on and digital identity solution for government (GDS)

UK government set to unveil next steps in digital identity market plan (Computer Weekly)

BCS calls for social media platforms to verify users to curb abuse (IT Pro)

ID verification for social media as a solution to online abuse is a terrible idea (diginomica)

Who is behind the online abuse of black England players and how can we stop it?* (New Statesman)

Euro 2020: Why abuse remains rife on social media (BBC News)

UK government

Online Media Literacy Strategy (DCMS)

Privacy enhancing technologies: Adoption guide (CDEI)

The Longitudinal Education Outcomes (LEO) dataset is now available in the ONS Secure Research Service (ADR UK)

Our Home Office 2024 DDaT Strategy is published (Home Office)

The UK’s Digital Regulation Plan makes few concrete commitments (Tech Monitor)

OSR statement on data transparency and the role of Heads of Profession for Statistics (Office for Statistics Regulation)

Good data from any source can help us report on the global goals to the UN (ONS)

The state of the UK’s statistical system 2020/21 (Office for Statistics Regulation)

Far from average: How COVID-19 has impacted the Average Weekly Earnings data (ONS)

Health

Shock treatment: can the pandemic turn the NHS digital? (E&T)

Can Vaccine Passports Actually Work? (Slate)

UK supercomputer Cambridge-1 to hunt for medical breakthroughs (The Guardian)

AI got 'rithm

An Applied Research Agenda for Data Governance for AI (GPAI)

Taoiseach and Minister Troy launch Government Roadmap for AI in Ireland (Irish Government)

Tech

“I Don’t Think I’ll Ever Go Back”: Return-to-Office Agita Is Sweeping Silicon Valley (Vanity Fair)

Google boss Sundar Pichai warns of threats to internet freedom (BBC News)

The class of 2021: Welcome to POLITICO’s annual ranking of the 28 power players behind Europe’s tech revolution (Politico)

Inside Facebook’s Data Wars* (New York Times)

Concern trolls and power grabs: Inside Big Tech’s angry, geeky, often petty war for your privacy (Protocol)

Exclusive extract: how Facebook's engineers spied on women* (Telegraph)

Face off

Can facial analysis technology create a child-safe internet? (The Observer)

#Identity, #OnlineSafety & #AgeVerification – notes on “Can facial analysis technology create a child-safe internet?” (Alec Muffett)

Europe makes the case to ban biometric surveillance* (Wired)

Open government

From open data to joined-up government: driving efficiency with BA Obras (Open Contracting Partnership)

AVAILABLE NOW! DEMOCRACY IN A PANDEMIC: PARTICIPATION IN RESPONSE TO CRISIS (Involve)

Designing digital services for equitable access (Brookings)

Data

Trusting the Data: How do we reach a public settlement on the future of tech? (Demos)

"Why do we use R rather than Excel?" (Terence Eden)

Everything else

The world’s biggest ransomware gang just disappeared from the internet (MIT Technology Review)

Our Statistical Excellence Awards Ceremony has just kicked off! (Royal Statistical Society)

Pin resets wipe all data from over 100 Treasury mobile phones (The Guardian)

Data officers raid two properties over Matt Hancock CCTV footage leak (The Guardian)

How did my phone number end up for sale on a US database? (BBC News)

Gendered disinformation: 6 reasons why liberal democracies need to respond to this threat (Demos, Heinrich-Böll-Stiftung)

Opportunities

EVENT: Justice data in the digital age: Balancing risks and opportunities (The LEF)

JOBS: Senior Data Strategy - Data Innovation & Business Analysis Hub (MoJ)

JOB: Director of Evidence and Analytics (Natural England)

JOB: Policy and Research Associate (Open Ownership)

JOB: Research Officer in Data Science (LSE Department of Psychological and Behavioural Science)

JOB: Chief operating officer (Democracy Club, via Jukesie)

And finally...

me: can’t believe we didn’t date sooner... (@MNateShyamalan)

Are you closer to Georgia, or to Georgia? (@incunabula)

A masterpiece in FOIA (Chris Cook)

How K-Pop conquered the universe* (Washington Post)

Does everything really cost more? Find out with our inflation quiz.* (Washington Post)

[desiraypark]

Drawing New Lines (Final)

Previous Entire Series

Characters: Kylo Ren x Tiffany Palmer (OC - Blk/F) Setting: Modern/Current/Alternate Universe (I went ahead and set it in NYC/NJ lol) Content: Brief smut (possibly dub-con?); *plays “Freedom” by Beyoncé

“Do you think your brother would be willing to help me?”

“Of course. Even if he wasn’t, I’d make him anyway.”

“They drive around my building. They drive around here. They park outside of my clients’ house. I can’t get away from them.”

“Say no more. I know what you need.”

They waited for two weeks. Tiffany didn’t want to leave her co-workers scrambling. Even when in danger, she felt the need to think of others. Additionally, the plan needed to be well thought out. She needed to buy airline tickets. She needed to call her mother. If Kylo were just your average Joe, she could have just abandoned everything. But no…

Kylo was the son of Michael Ren--entrepreneurs with important affiliations. He was the wife of Chelsea Ren, born Chelsea Palpatine--protégé of her father. The Rens and the Palpatines had the city--the state, even--on lock. They had eyes and shooters everywhere. She couldn’t “just leave”.

“What are you thinking about?” Kylo asked at the dinner table.

Dinner was a bit more comforting tonight--breakfast for dinner. Shrimp and grits, bacon, and biscuits from scratch. The meal warmed her. Relaxed her. It eased a longing.

Tiffany shook out her head out of its haze. “What?”

“I said, what are you thinking about?”

She shook her head again. “Nothing.”

“That didn’t look like a nothin’ face,” Kylo pushed.

She thought quickly. “Thinking about a pushy client.”

Kylo raised an eyebrow. “A pushy client?”

Tiffany nodded with confidence. “They wanted me to decorate their living room but they micromanaged me. Now their shit is ugly.”

Kylo chuckled. “As long as they don’t give you any bad reviews or anything.”

Tiffany agreed with a forced smile, and returned her attention to her plate.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you...”

Kylo stared at her. Suddenly, she became self-conscious. She didn’t look particularly different, or special. Did he suspect something? Was this a trick? He patted his lap.

“Come here,” he said.

Tiffany chuckled nervously. “For what?”

“For what?” he asked. “Just get over here.”

She cleared her throat and walked over to Kylo’s side of the table. He took her hand and gently pulled her down to his lap. His hand ran up and down her thigh, then he gave her ass a squeeze.

“Take your pants off.”

Tiffany’s heart skipped a beat. They’d done this before. “Kylo, this food is going to get cold.”

“And we can heat it back up.” He tugged at the band on her pants. “Take your pants off.”

Tiffany stood up and pulled down her slacks, revealing her luscious hips in boy shorts. Kylo bit his lip and ran his fingertips up her thighs. “Has it been long enough?”

Tiffany was being torn in three different directions. She could’ve lied--and said that her body needed more time (because he truly didn’t deserve to touch her). She could have told him the truth--yes, it had been long enough. He’d probably researched it, anyway. Or, she could have told him the truth because unfortunately, she needed him inside of her one more time. 

She pulled down her underwear and Kylo ran his finger between her outer lips--feeling her warmth and gathering her wetness.

“Did she miss me?” he asked. He shoved a finger inside and met Tiffany’s eyes. Her jaw dropped. She could have slapped herself in the face. Kylo chuckled to himself, slid his chair back, then tapped the dining table.

Tiffany climbed onto the table, and Kylo slid his chair close. He pried her thighs apart, exposing her to him--her beautiful flower blossomed and ready for the taking. He leaned in and dragged his pointed tongue against her clit. Her eyes closed. She grabbed his hair and threw her head back.

____________________

“I texted him,” Tiffany said, walking through the parking garage with Adelle. She looked around and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I asked if he was planning on coming over.”

Adelle unlocked the doors to her Mercedes and they both climbed into the car.

“What did he say?”

“He said he was busy. Then asked why.”

Adelle started her car. “And what did you say?”

“I haven’t texted back yet.”

Adelle slowly backed out of her space. “Tell him where you’re going. If you don’t say anything he’s going to get suspicious. Just say a restaurant. Only tell him the name if he asks.”

“And if I lie, Black Car is going to tell him differently,” Tiffany thought out loud.

Tiffany texted Kylo, telling him that she would be dining with her boss. Of course, he asked where. And she told him: The Red House.

The black car was behind them the whole time--one, two, sometimes three cars away. But Adelle drove like a secret agent--unfathomed and in charge. Miraculously, she found a space not far from the restaurant. She grabbed her phone, ID, and credit card, and stuffed the items in her jacket pocket. Tiffany did practically the same--stuffing her wallet into her suit jacket. The ladies placed their handbags and laptops in the trunk of Adelle’s car, then walked just several yards to the restaurant’s door.

Chills went down Tiffany’s spine as they walked into The Red House. The air was palpable. Old images flashed in her mind--Kylo at the bar with another woman, many Decembers ago. She looked out at the dim hallway in the back, remembering when she came out of the restroom and he was standing there. The host sat them near the kitchen at a table with four seats.

“Your server will be right with you,” he said.

“Thank you. Could you tell Mr. Mason that Adelle is here?”

“Uh, yes ma’am,” the host said, nodding.

Tiffany feigned a search over the menu. Then, Antoine Mason came from the back, bent down, and hugged his twin sister.

“Hey, Sis,” he said.

“Hey, Honey.”

He looked at Tiffany. “How are you this evening?”

Tiffany shivered. “Excited. Scared.”

“No need to be scared,” he said. He looked at Adelle. “John?”

“All set,” Adelle said. Antoine returned his attention to Tiffany and smiled. “Your server will come soon. I told her all she needed to know.”

Tiffany nodded and Antoine smiled, then walked away. Then, a young lady walked to them. “Good evening, Ladies,” she said, pulling out her pad. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”

No alcohol. Adelle got a raspberry lemonade, Tiffany iced tea. Their minds needed to be clear. Rolls and salads came. House salads. Nothing that Antoine or the cook would be angry to see wasted. The server “took their orders”. Then, Adelle got up to grab something from her car. Moments later, she returned with a random bottle of hand sanitizer.

“Don’t panic,” Adelle said. “Where they’re parked, they can see right inside. They can see the kitchen.”

“Fuck,” Tiffany whispered. Her heart rate increased and she rested her elbow on the table.

“Don’t panic, don’t panic,” Adelle said.

“You telling me not to panic is making me panic,” Tiffany mumbled.

Tiffany and Adelle waited for their server to come back. She asked if they were okay, and needed refills. Adelle said “yes”, but said she would need to text her brother. Only two minutes passed, and Antoine instructed them to continue with their plan...

Tiffany got up to use the restroom. She stood in the bathroom, pacing the floor. Her breaths bounced off the linoleum and met her ears. Taunting her. She paced a couple of more minutes--as planned--then slowly opened the bathroom door. Standing by the kitchen door was Antoine, fiddling with an old rolling cart, covered in white linen.

“Stay right there,” he said, voice booming down the short hallway.

Tiffany kept her back to the door. Antoine shook his head and pushed the cart down the hallway and stopped in front of Tiffany.

“Climb in,” he said.

Tiffany shook her head and laughed. 

Antoine lifted the linen that covered the cart and Tiffany climbed in. She sat in a tight ball as the rickety wheels rolled over the restaurant’s tile floor--the very tile that sat under her feet when Kylo invited her to his hotel room. The light outside of the linen brightened, and the cloth was lifted. Antoine held out his hand and helped Tiffany out of the cart. Unknowing cooks looked at the scene with knitted eyebrows, as Antoine led her out the back door and toward a blue car in the alley.

Antoine opened the back door and she climbed in his back seat, laid on the floor, and burst into tears.

“You take care, Sweetheart,” Antoine said. He closed the back door.

“Oh, don’t you start that now!” John joked. “Tears of joy?”

“Yes,” Tiffany whimpered.

There was a short silence, then John began to speak.

“Hey baby,” he said. “She’s in here...you in your car?...Alright. Stay on the phone with me.”

Tiffany wiped her tears.

“North Carolina, huh? My family’s from South Carolina…” John said. He started his engine.

“What?” Adelle said through the speakerphone.

“Talking to Tiffany.”

“Oh,” Adelle responded. She chuckled. “I don’t think this man is even paying attention to me...”

____________________

Two Days Later

Kylo’s fingers and ears were stuck to two phones--his personal phone and his business phone. He had his business phone to his ear, and his eyes trained on his personal phone. Suddenly, it lit up.

Cardo: Nothing, still. No sign, no trace.

Kylo balled his fist, imagining Cardo was in front of him so he could beat the shit out of him again.

“Yeah, do what the fuck you have to do,” Kylo said, rushing off his business phone. “Alright.”

Chelsea strolled around the corner, just in time to see Kylo hang up his flip phone and quickly look down at his desk.

Kylo rolled his eyes at the sight of Chelsea and her smirk, then took a swig of his drink. His smartphone went dim.

“What?” he asked.

Chelsea walked behind him and ran her fingers down his chest. She planted kisses on his cheek.

“Your boyfriend out of town?” His phone lit up.

“No, I’m actually going to see him tomorrow,” she said. 

Cardo: So sorry Boss. Please forgive me.

Kylo grunted and took a sip of his drink. Chelsea kissed him on the neck, then nibbled on his ear.

“I know that you’ll probably be able to find her…” she mumbled into his canal. “But if you ever put your hands on her, or any other woman again…”

Kylo slowly put his drink down, as Chelsea sucked at his neck again.

“I will beat the shit out of myself…” Kiss. “Tell my father you did it…” Kiss. “…and let him chop you into tiny pieces and fry you up for breakfast.”

Chelsea licked a stripe up his neck and to his cheek. Then, planted another kiss. She walked out of the study and froze in the hallway. She put her hands on her hips and smiled.

“Come say goodnight to your father, my loves!” she said. ____________________ December 2020 (A Few Days Before Christmas)

Christmas in Charlotte was a world different from Christmas in New York. There was no need for central heat in Gina Palmer’s house in December. The air was warm and balmy. Tiffany sat on her full-sized bed, staring at the flip phone on her dresser. Finally, she stood up, walked to the dresser, and opened the phone. She called the Cannon Street Design Firm, and pressed 111--her desired party’s extension.

“Cannon Street Design Firm, this is Adelle Mason-Brooks speaking.”

“Hi, Adelle...it’s Tiffany...”

There was a brief pause. “Tiffany?” 

“Yes...”

“How are you, Sweetie?” Adelle asked, joy in her voice.

“I’m fine. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you. I’m so glad you’ve called me.”

“How’s everything?”

“Everything is everything,” Adelle said. She cleared her throat. “Mrs. Ren was here a few days ago.”

Tiffany swallowed. 

“She just wanted to know if you were alright. I told the chick that I wouldn’t know.”

Tiffany chuckled. “Thanks.”

“A strange dynamic those two have, huh?”

“The whole thing was strange...” Tiffany responded with a grunt.

“Well. Yeah. That’s true. She gave me a message to pass on to you...”

Tiffany could hear Adelle shuffling around on her desk.

“She put it in a Christmas card and everything. Hold on...”

There was a long pause--paper rustling--and Adele cleared her throat. “The card just says Happy Holidays, blah blah. But she wrote, “I don’t know how you did it, but I’m happy you did it. You are my hero.” Signed, “CR”.”

Tiffany drew in a deep breath, smiled, and shook her head. “That was nice.”

“Yeah, it was...want me to hold on to it?”

Tiffany took another deep breath. “No. No need to.”

Suddenly, there was a knock at Tiffany’s door. Then, it opened. Gina Palmer peeped in and smile--the movement of her cheeks shifting the old scar that ran down her cheek. 

“I made shrimp and grits,” Gina whispered. 

Tiffany smiled and nodded at her mother. Gina smiled harder and slipped back out of the room.

“--but I’m so glad you called me. Should I save this number?” Adelle asked.

“Yes, I’d like for you to,” Tiffany replied.

“Alright.”

“Thank you for everything Adelle. I owe your whole family, pretty much.”

“You don’t owe us a thing, Honey. Not a thing.” Tiffany smiled to herself. “Merry Christmas, Adelle.”

“Merry Christmas, Tiffany.”

Tiffany closed her phone and walked out of her bedroom. She walked down the dim hallway--the wall’s wood paneling straight out of the 70s, and joined her mother in the kitchen for shrimp and grits, bacon, and homemade biscuits. ____________________

TAG LIST @aloneandsleepless​ @a-true-janian-reply​ @iamasithprincess

____________________

Support my grilled salmon addiction (Ko-Fi)

[boop-le-snoot]

For your celebration- take me and Tony to Latvia. What would we do on a date?

Okay, this is pure crack. Basically, a selfship - thanks, Letsby! For those who do not know what a Latvia is - it's a tiny (1.3 mil people) post-soviet country in Eastern Europe. Yes, I live here and yes, I am suffering. Tony Stark could buy Latvia without causing a dent in his budget. I absolutely cannot take this prompt seriously 😃🔫 So here's a video of what my country actually is like and why this would be a disaster! Now with Wikipedia links for y'all to see what I'm talking about.

• "Oh no, I don't think it's a good idea," You mumble, giving the largest, scariest side-eye to Natasha, who's piloting the quinjet with a poker face worth of a master bullshitter. It was her idea for the team to see your native country - you're pretty sure it's revenge for eating her bagels last month - but you can't do anything about it because Bucky is already excitedly yapping to Steve about how he spent a whole month here eating nothing but different varieties of cooked potatoes in the early 2000s and how much he liked it.

• It's not the WW2 veterans you're worried about, it's not the spy agent duo that probably had been in much worse places and definitely not Bruce - you know firsthand that the deep Asia can get much, much less comfortable than your little country. Your boyfriend however... Every time you try to picture him on a casual street somewhere in the capital city, your mind just glitches and hangs up an error sign. His shoes cost about twice the price of the two-room apartment you used to live in with your parents as a child.

• "C'mon, short stuff, how bad can it be?" Says Tony without lifting his eyes and it's obvious he's... Googling. It wouldn't be the first time Americans have assumed your motherland is either a city in Russia or a region in Poland. You're used to it - and you never hesitate to confuse them in turn, speaking in a language nobody's even heard about. Somwhere behind you, Bruce snorts.

• As you land on SHIELD-owned ground, a small private airport away from the city, you can't help but inhale a lungful of the cool, damp air. The air here is certainly much less polluted than in NYC. "Okay, Nat, what do you need from me?" You ask, phone at the ready.

• "Drive the car, here's the address, that's our hotel. We'll take the one in the garage," And sure, you still remember your city as if you had never left. Your team stares at the line of Wolkswagen mom vans that are neatly placed for your convenience. "Gotta blend in," Natasha's eyebrow makes an appearance as Tony begins to bitch at the ten-year-old cars that definitely do not have the usual luxuries of full size American SUVs. You feel a headache start somwhere behind your temples.

• Potholes. One after the other, you jump each time a tire catches on one, focusing your attention on driving and trying to ignore Clint's whining. It's not like you can avoid them - the road does its best impression of Swiss cheese quite successfully. "This is the industrial port, this is a hill that we like to call a mountain," You mumble with a straight face as you pass a particularly tall piece of dirt. "This is the Victory Park - Bucky may want to visit, lots of veteran names inscribed on the monument there if you ever knew any Russians during the war," You continue rambling, seeing Tony stare around in surprise.

• He looks exactly as out of place as you thought he would. "Reminds me of that time we had to stay in Chelyabinsk," He mutters and you swallow a chuckle at the obvious shiver of discomfort. Tony wasn't made for adventures in rural Russia. He screamed like a little girl when he saw a rat and Bruce nearly hulked out having decided to go to the local shops and practice his Russian - it was minus twenty nine degrees Celsius that day.

• You pass the river, going over the bridge and into the heart of the city, Old Town, where buildings stand older than America itself and the roads are cobblestone. The Americans look around with eyes as wide as saucers and that makes you laugh a little; you start full-on belly cackling as the hotel receptionist pops her gum and gives Tony the keycard to your room with absolutely zero indication she recognised any of the superheroes. Steve blushes.

• "We want to go exploring, gonna come with?" Bucky's text hits the group chat a little after both of you have showered and unpacked. Tony is occupied on his tablet and you're already cringing, inwardly preparing yourself for the inevitable avalanche of questions. He replies "Yes!" to Bucky before you can even unlock your phone.

• "What do you mean, seventeen kinds of potato dishes?" Steve's eyebrows are nearly hidden by his hair as he stares at the menu of a... You couldn't call it a restaurant by any means. A café, maybe. It's what you had stupidly offered when Bruce timidly questioned you about the local cuisine. "With peas? And what is that - lard?" Steve sounds disgusted, muttering about not eating such culinary perversions even during the Depression era. Naturally, Tony takes exactly the things Steve is so outraged about.

• Bucky, however, is in heaven. You and him chat with the server in fluent Russian with Natasha occasionally adding a quip. Bruce's, Tony's and Steve's staring makes you feel like a hippo in a zoo. Predictably, Tony hates his food and you switch your porkchops, thankful he's actually eating and not whining - looking at you, Barton.

• It doesn't get much better than that. Tony hates the spotlight, dislikes being bothered on the street but the absolute indifference that people around you all show towards the very public group of superheroes begins to unsettle him. You walk around the old town, Bucky on one side and Tony clutching your arm like a lifeline, while you tell your friends about the various ancient buildings.

• Bucky does recognise a few names at the Victory monument and you respectfully give him and Steve some time while you feed the ducks. "It's so depressing," Tony eyes you with a sort of respect. "I don't know how you lived here for twenty years."

• Natasha snorts. "It's peaceful," But she doesn't add more, seeing your face fall. Bruce quietly nods, content to just sit on the bench and observe the quacking birds, the pale blue skyline and the trees gently rustling in the wind.

• "You should see the countryside," You can't help but shiver. "So many ghost towns with population under five hundred people. It's creepy," These days, you're used to the bustling, busy USA, to large cities and lots of travel. Even the capital city of your country seems too quiet, almost unsettling, compared to New York city. Or even London or Budapest.

• Bucky and Steve finally gather themselves with the former discreetly holding Steve's hand. "Maybe we can go to the sea? It's warm today," You don't have the heart to refuse. It's summer and it's about 24 degrees Celsius, the weather pretty good for swimming - of course, you don't expect the Americans to swim, so it's just you, Nat and Buck who pack their swimsuits.

• The seaside is peaceful - not many people on the secluded beach you take your friends to, and predictably, the water is freezing cold but in a good, familiar way. You and Natasha have the time of your lives, swimming, splashing while the rest of the team sits and watches you on the shore, wrapped up in their hoodies, munching on some snack or another.

• You're pretty sure your lips are blue when you exit; with a shriek, Tony attempts to jump away as you wrap your cold, wet self around him, but it's obvious he's enjoying your happiness. "Don't get sick, dear, I don't want your germs," He chortles, but wraps you up in a large fluffy towel and hugs you for extra warmth. You retaliate with a sloppy kiss, dragging your wet hair all over his shirt.

• As you return to New York, you find Tony deep in thought throughout the day. He casts glances at you when he thinks you're not looking; Bruce is the same, and even Clint adopts some kind of an obvious thinking process. "What?!" You finally ask, fed up with the unusual behaviour.

• "Just glad you're with us," Tony kisses your hair. You prepare yourself for more and more questions.

Letsby, I'm cackling.

[starwitch3000]

What’s Your Story - 1

Pairing: Peter Quill x Reader 

Summary: After having a not so great couple of weeks the reader finds their way to The Milano a dive bar in NYC where they meet the owner Peter Quill

Warning: Drinking and language 

masterlist - ff.net

You were having a terrible day. Well, maybe more accurately, days plural. You were up for a promotion at work, you were currently an editor at an online news website, but your so called “in the bag” promotion your boss had promised was instead handed to some new guy they hired. You were bitter because you gave this job 3 whole years of your life and this was the thanks you got.

Another thing, your boyfriend of a year dumped you a couple of weeks ago because he got a job offer overseas and didn’t think you’d want to go with him, not that he asked. He also didn’t want to do a long distance relationship because he just wasn’t feeling it. So now he’s dead to you.

The list of tiny annoying day to day things just kept piling on your shoulders. Like someone taking your coffee order and having to pay for a new coffee because the barista didn’t believe you. Having your cab taken 4 separate times by 4 different people. Being sent an email by your boss asking why you weren’t in a meeting that you clearly were and participated in. Having your lunch being stolen from fridge in the break room and never getting your lunch bag back. Having to buy a new lunch bag.

With everything piling up things just became too much. That’s why you texted your best friend, Natasha Romanoff, to meet up for some drink at a bar near your apartment. She agreed and you headed out to make your way there. Your sour mood prompted you to walk and the fact that the bar you were heading to, The Milano, was only a couple blocks away.

You made it to the bar and headed in. It was a Friday night so you were a little surprised to see that the place wasn’t too terribly packed. Though you had to admit this place was a little run down and the people that were there looked a little sketchy. This is New York after all so who were you to judge.

You headed up to the bar and took a seat at it. You pulled out your phone while you waited for the bartender to finish up the customer he was already with and to check and see if Natasha had sent you an update.

She had.

Not a good one.

Work called have to bail. I’m so sorry you know I’d be there if it weren’t important. xx

Frowning at your phone you hadn’t realized the bartender approached you or that he was talking to you.

“Hello?” he whistled waving his hand slightly in front of you, “you’re not deaf are you? Cause if you are then you’re totally making me feel like an asshole right now.”

“Huh?” snapping out of the pity party going on in your head you looked up at the bartender. He was a tall, well built man with dark blonde hair and green eye. He looked stupidly handsome and you couldn’t help but stare. He tossed the towel in his hands over his shoulder as he raised an eyebrow at you. You coughed wishing you could sink into the floor and disappear out of embarrassment,  “Sorry?”

“What can I get ya?” He repeated with a kind but snarky smile. He totally noticed you gawking at him that asshole.

Well Nat left you hanging but you were already here so why not, “Whisky neat cheapest you got.”  

With a bit of flare he tossed your glass into the air catching before setting it on the counter to pour your drink, “Here you are,” He slides the glass over to you with a charming smile, “enjoy.”

Show off.

You gave him a pressed smile and lifted the glass in thanks as he went to take care of a new customer. Taking a sip you looked down at your phone unlocking it to Natasha message.

No worries. Call me when you can. xx

You sent her a quick reply just so she knew you weren’t mad, disappointed sure but not mad, you knew how seriously she took her work. You wish you felt the same honestly, but this past week at work had you reconsidering what you actually wanted from your job. Sure it paid well enough and you had been there long enough to be on the company's insurance plan, but that was about it. You landed that editing job straight out of college and you were so proud of that for so long. Maybe your pride had hidden what you really wanted to achieve.

“So what’s your story?”

Pulled from your thoughts you tighten your grip on your phone and looked up to see the bartender had made his way back towards your end of the bar where you sat alone.

“Excuse me?” You asked confused.

“What’s your story?” He asks again, “What brings someone like you to The Milano alone on a Friday night?”

“I’m sorry, someone like me?”

“No offense ma’am but you don’t exactly fit the demographic of this bar,” he shrugged as you both took a glance around at the other patrons of the establishment. You found he was not wrong. Most of the people looked like they were criminals. Covered in scars and tattoos with permanent scowls on their faces.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taking another sip of your drink, “I think I fit in perfectly here.”

He snorted, “Right. I guess you are just as brooding as the rest of these chumps.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you scoffed offended.

“Walking in here with a look on your face that says “I’m thinking about murder” and sitting all by yourself nursing a whisky,” He explains then nods to himself, “No you’re absolutely right you fit right in.”

“Huh,” you breathed loosening your phone from your grip and set it down next to your glass. You processed his words for a moment, it makes you wonder if he was checking you out when you first arrived, looking up at him he seemed to be doing that. His head slightly tilted and eyes slightly darkened as his eyes traced your face. Biting your lip you asked, “I really look like I’m thinking about murder?”

“You telling me you’re not?”

“No, but to be fair I have been tossing around the idea of some light arson so that could be what you’re picking up.”

“Arson?” His eyebrow cocked up intrigued, “alright now you’ve got my attention. Let’s hear all about this.”

You snorted as if you hadn’t already had his attention, “You really want to stand here and talk to me?”

“Well if I’m being honest this place is a little slow tonight and unless a bachelorette party comes stumbling through those doors you’re the most interesting person I can be talking to right now,” He explains.

You laughed and shook your head, “Dunno, that guy seems pretty interesting,” You nodded your head to only other guy actually sitting all the way at the other end of the bar. He was hunched over in his seat picking at the label on his beer as he intensely read the subtitles of the movie playing on one of the tv on the wall, “maybe you should find out what his story is.”

“Nah that’s just Kraglin I’ve known him forever,” He explained playing with the towel in his hand, “You however mentioned arson and I would like to hear all about it. What do you want to set on fire the most?”

Rolling your eyes you decided to play along, “Do I have to pick just one thing?”

He gasped, “A serial arsonist. This just keeps getting better. Let’s start with the one thing you want to burn the most. Like if you could set this fire right now what would it be?”

“Okay,” you let out a long breath and thought it over. What to burn first, “Probably my bosses office - wait no, my ex.”

“Work trouble and love trouble? That’s a nasty duo.”

“Yeah well my boyfriend dumped me for a job overseas. He’s going to be some regional manager for whatever doing whatever in Turkey. He didn’t want me to move with him so he just ended things,” you explained bitterly.

“How long were you guys together?”

“Little over a year.”

“Geeze,” He hisses in sympathy, “Did you guys even talk about it?”

“Nope,” you said popping the p, “He just decided for me that I wasn’t going to move with him.”

“Would you?”

“If he asked me?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah I think I would have. We were together for so long I thought we were good. If he asked me I probably wouldn’t have given it a second thought,” you answered hating yourself slightly for all the time wasted on him.

“What about if he walked into this bar right now and asked you?” He asked.

“I’d kick him straight in the nuts,” you immediately answered.

“I don’t think I like how quick that response was,” He grimaced, “Yikes. Now what about your boss?”

“Well,” you sighed, “I usually don’t have any issues at work but recently I was up for a promotion and he told me that the job was basically mine they just had to do other interviews so that the higher ups didn’t think it was favoritism or whatever.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an editor for an online news outlet. Been there for like 3 years now.”

He nodded and let you continue.

“So they had a couple of interviews and decided to give the job to one of those guys and not me. I asked my boss why and he said that this guy was much more qualified for the position and he figured I wouldn’t care so much anyways,” you finished feeling the same bitterness that you felt when you had left your bosses office after being turned down from the promotion.

“That’s shitty,” He sighed, “What a dick man.”

“Tell me about it,” you rolled your eyes taking a drink.

“Ay Pete, hand me another beer would ya,” Kraglin from the other end of the bar interrupted waving his now empty bottle toward the bartender, Pete you guess.

“So that’s what brought you here?” He asked cracking a fresh beer open and sliding it down the bar towards Kraglin not breaking the flow of his conversation with you, “A deadbeat ex and a shithead employer?”

“I was actually meeting up with a friend,” you explained watching Kraglin nearly tip over the new beer over but saving it last minute, “but she canceled last minute because of work.”

“You want to set her office on fire too?” Pete asked preparing himself for another story.

You chuckled, “No, god no. She’s a detective usually when she gets called in like this there is usually a dead guy.”

“Oh,” he paused, “well shit. Better be careful with all this crime you’re about to commit. Don’t worry I wont tell.”

“Gee thanks stranger,” you teased causing him to laugh.

“It’s Peter actually. Peter Quill owner of this fine establishment,” He declared gesturing around the bar.

“Fine establishment?” You questioned, “Weren’t you the one saying this place was running slow on a Friday night?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Peter gasped in mock offense, “Is the not New York, the city that always sleeps?”

“Not sure that’s how it goes Pete,” You shook your head sympathetically.

“Pretty sure that’s exactly how it goes.”

“Whatever you say man. I’m (Y/N) by the way. (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you smiled, “Now you’ve got a name to give the cops when you go to snitch on me.”

“Okay first of all, I would never snitch. Have you seen the people in this bar? They would eat me alive if I was some kind of snitch. Secondly, I am one hundred percent sure that’s a fake name now, but I’ll call you (Y/N) anyways,” dramatically he put air quotes around your name when he spoke.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re dramatic as hell Pete?” You asked with a smile.

“No not even once,” he frowned, “alright maybe a couple of times, but that’s not the point.”

“And what’s the point?”

“I feel for you man,” He said sincerely, “getting dumped fucking sucks and then not getting a dream job on top of that? It’s rough.”

“Well I wouldn’t call it a dream job,” you said thinking it over, “Just a different job. Rising through the ranks. Getting better pay. Got any pretzels?”

“What’s your dream job then?” He asked reached over for a bowl of pretzels on the bar handing them to you.

You thought over his question for a minute while snacking on a pretzel. What was your dream job? You were an English major for a reason, because your passion growing up was writing. You used to write all the time what happened? This job that’s what happened.

You sighed knowing exactly what your dream job was but also knowing that it’s nearly impossible to get where you want to be.

“(Y/N)? Did I lose you?” Peter questioned and you looked up to meet his gaze.

“Sorry, no, just thinking it over,” you apologized.

“And?”

“What?”

He sighed exasperated, “what’s the dream job haunting your dreams?”

You rolled your eyes, “I guess I’ve always wanted to be a writer. And not some shitty news writer. Like my own stories. Put my own thoughts and opinions on paper and see who picks it up you know?”

“So what’s stopping you?” Peter blinks watching your face carefully.

Squirming under his gaze you suddenly felt the pressure, “Me I guess. I don’t know where to start or if I’m any good. I’m just paralyzed by my own fear of failure and it makes me want to stay where I am and just blend in for the rest of my life. Always having opportunities placed in front of me but never getting to experience them.”

“That is a load of bullshit,” he scoffed.  

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I think that is all a bunch of bullshit,” He repeated a little harshly.

“And what gives you the right to say that? You barely even know me!” you jumped feeling overwhelmed by his confrontation.

“Sure I do your ex is a douche, your best friend is a cop and your name is probably not (Y/N),” He shrugged, “That’s pretty much everything.”

Baffled you shook your head, “I don’t really think it is.”

“Well,” He started placing his hands on the edge of the bar leaning forward, “It’s plenty enough for me to know that you’re going to be miserable if you keep doing what you’re doing because guess what, you already are.”

“I’m not miserable,” You interrupted, “I’m just having a bad week!”

“Who is the bartender here and who is the girl drinking by herself?”

You refused to answer.

Smugly he continued, “This is my job honey, I know people, even when they don’t want me to. And right now I know that you are stuck not because you’re afraid of failing. You’re afraid of wasting your time and you wont accept that you already have. You wasted a year with some dickwad who didn’t care enough to get your opinion on your relationship together. You’ve wasted your time working for some assholes that don’t recognize your desire to achieve more. It’s time to pull your head out of your ass and take something that you want.”

You hated it. You hated every single word that left his mouth. You hated the way he said it. You hated how it sounded. Mostly you hated that it was all true.

“What the fuck dude?” You huffed feeling out of breath for him. Peter was proving to be extremely long winded.

“Am I wrong?”

“Well no, obviously, but can’t you just let a girl wallow in self pity for an evening?” you question, “Geeze.”

He rolled his eyes standing up straight again, “You’re way too pretty for that sweetheart.”

“Great. Good to know. Next time I just want to drink and feel sad I’ll just stay at home then,” you nodded to yourself looking at the remainder of your drink in your glass.

“Sorry didn’t mean to overstep my boundaries, “He sighed, “but this bar is my life, even though some of us here are unimpressed by that,” he shot you a cocky wink, “and if someone hadn’t told me to get my head out of my ass and do something I love then we wouldn’t be here today.”

“And who was that?”

“Well my mom always told me to do what I love but after she passed away it was my foster dad that was always telling me to get my head out of my ass,” He explained.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Not it was for good reason,” He said, “I was a shithead.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes “was”, “I meant about your mom passing. I’m sorry to hear that. My mom passed away too when I was younger.”

His lips pressed into a line and he nodded looking at the surface of the bar, “It sucks.”

You nodded in agreement settling into a silence. Loss was something you both seemed all too familiar with. You had noticed that he had said foster dad and not his dad but you didn’t want to bring up two intrusive topics in a row. Things felt a little too personal and that’s saying a lot seeing as you just told a random stranger all your most recent problems. It’s clearly something he’s used to him being a bartender and all. People must come in here and bare their souls to him all the time.

The sound of your cell phone buzzing made both of you jump. You picked it up to see Natasha picture flashing across the screen. A wave of confusion and mild panic hit you.

“Sorry hang on,” you told Peter and answered her call never knowing when it could be an emergency, “hey what’s up?”

Through the phone all you hear is her aggravated sigh, “Just got finished dealing with a bunch of teenagers who thought it would be funny to prank call some detectives about fake homicide. They didn’t even use burners to hide their identities or anything but were oh so shocked that they got caught.”

“That awful. What’s going to happen to those kids?” you asked biting your lip listening to your friend.

“Don’t know probably community service. I’ve been dealing with hysterical parents for the last hour. They’ve got court dates and the judge will decide the rest,” she sighed through the phone, “In the meantime I am free again and really want some extra cheesy pizza from Romeo’s, want to come over and yell at each other?”       

“Wow,” you replied, “you really know a way to girls heart don’t you.”

“What can I say? I’m a gifted individual now come on over and I can show you more of my talents,” She teased.

“You gotta stop it with the dirty talk babe I’m in public,” you said causing Peter to laugh.

“Where are you?” Natasha dropped the teasing tone instantly curious, “Is that a guy?”

“The Milano,” you chose to only answer her first question.

“Seriously? You still went?”

“I was already here when you bailed,” you explained, “figured I’m already out might as well get what I came for.”

“Is that place any good? I know we’ve been meaning to check it out and tonight would have been that night if not for, you know, teenagers,” the bitterness of her tone did not go unnoticed.

“Eh, it’s alright,” your unimpressed tone was purely for Peter listening to just one side of this conversation, “It’s kind of dirty but they’ve got pretzels.”

You grinned as you earned a glare from Peter.

“Hot guy I hear ya,” Natasha murmured understanding the context of a situation she wasn’t even a part of, “tell me scale of one to ten where is he?”

“Eh, maybe like a three,” you replied loving the baffled looks you were getting from Peter seeing as he thought you were still talking about his bar.

“Shit really?” reading way more into your reply than you had intended, “look if you need to bail in order to get some I will not blame you.”

“Nah it’s not like that.”

“Oh really?” she questioned, “or are you just saying that because he’s standing right in front of you and you too scared to admit you want to jump on him and ride him till sunrise?”

If not for the little bit of alcohol in your system you would probably turn beat red hearing your friend say this while you stare directly at the man in question. You bit your lip considering it, “No I’m pretty sure it’s just because you enticed me pizza and now I’m going to hold you to that.”

Natasha laughed, “Alright I’ll order it now see you in a bit.”

“See you,” you smiled and hung up the phone.

“Someone have a hot date?” Peter asked sounding slightly disappointed.

“Yeah sorry to leave you like this,” you grabbed your wallet out of your purse only to look up and see his pout, “really? Pouting? Is that how you get all of your regulars?”

“It worked on Kraglin,” He shrugged dropping the pout.

“Sorry I’m just not that kind of girl,” you took out some cash and paid for your drink, “the only way to keep me around is food and sorry but pizza trumps pretzels.”

He gasped in fake disbelief.

“I know. I’m sorry but I make the rules and that’s just how this one goes,” you shrugged and got out of you seat. For the first time all week you finally felt yourself settle into a good mood. It made you feel lighter. You smiled up at Peter, “Thanks for the talk. I really needed it.”

“Anytime,” He smiled softly, “You’ll know where I’ll be.”

With that you left and headed toward Natasha place anxiously anticipating some pizza.

chapter two

~

Alright chapter one stay tuned for more. Also sorry for any mistakes things can slip by when proof reading but if I don’t post this now I never will. So let me know what you think and I promise chapter two is on its way! ~Star

[mymind--themess]

Sugarbean -- Chapter One

It had been a week since your meeting with Ashe, and you still couldn’t get her out of your head. Work for you had been rather slow this past week due to two of your usual clients being either incarcerated or dead, and you were back up north, residing in New York state once more. You lived in a fairly large city; It wasn’t New York City, but it was second in size -- Buffalo, New York. It might as well have been NYC considering the hustle and bustle of the two cities were quite alike, as were the crime rates. Currently, you were nestled by the fireplace in your small apartment, lounging casually. Sure, you could definitely afford a mansion with all the cash you made in weapons dealing, but you preferred this adorable apartment and staying low. You were on the phone with a dear childhood friend who you had met at the best orphanage you had resided in, Marianna. (A/N: If you’ve ever read my reaper x reader, you will know exactly who she is)

“How was that trip down south to Deadlock Gorge?” Marianna asked knowingly.

“Hot,” You mumbled with a scoff as you unconsciously began to rub the beautiful necklace she had gotten you and B.O.B had been the one to give to you. “How’s Italy? Beautiful like always?”

“You know it; Although, it has definitely been a weird trip. So much has happened; I really cannot wait to see you and tell you everything at the annual reunion! You’re coming in this year, right?”

“Of course! That orphanage has been my home since I was 13; I wouldn’t miss reunion week for the world.” You replied as you smiled.

“Great! Anyways, how did the cowgirl casanova look?” Marianna said slyly.

You moved your hand to your chest in a mock dramatic gesture. “Finer than a bottle of wine!” You declared, causing Marianna to giggle.

“I don’t get why you two aren’t a thing yet; Just make a move!” She chided you through laughs, totally serious even though her tone was full of laughter.

You sighed in embarrassment. “You know I can’t! You remember our rule?”

“(Y/N)! That rule doesn’t apply if you like a cowgirl! There are no rules when it comes to cowgirls — She’s a modern day outlaw.”

You sighed, biting your lip. Maybe you should make a small mov-, no! What if she totally disregarded how you felt? You would be so damn embarressed! What if she wasn’t even in to females? “I don’t even think she’s into females.”

Marianna could be hear scoffing over the phone. “Oh no, she definitely swings the female way. Back when her and my brother Jesse were close, she told him all she fancied was girls.”

“Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe did not say fancy.” You replied in disbelief.

“You don’t know her backstory at all, do you?”

“Do... do you?”

“Jesse simply told me she was rich; Like — My grandmother’s level rich. Filthy rich.”

You thought on that for a moment. Well, it would certainly explain how she’s able to afford the weapons you sell. You were one of the most expensive dealers around because you dealt with high end clients. You never really thought of where they money came from; It dawned on you, she must’ve been pretty wealthy for the amount she could buy at a time. Which made her even more powerful in your head. You had always focused on just Ashe, never about where her money was from. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Because you were too busy thinking about her ass.”

You scoffed, “No... well once, but no! I was thinking about her eyes to be honest.”

“... You sound as sappy as my sister gets over her girlfriend; It makes me want to chug vodka until it drowns out you two.”

You smiled, “Hey, Marisol got her girl; Knowing Marisol she’s probably as sweet as pie. She’s ahead of me by a few steps.”

Marianna sighed, “Yeah, actually her girl is a hacker for Talon. So sweet as pie my ass. You two have always had this thing for someone screaming the word Badass.”

You couldn’t help but snigger. “Can’t wait til someone bad comes your way.”

“I’d like to see them try.” Marianna sighed. “Well, I gotta go. See you at the reunion?”

“Unless I’m wherever you are before then.”

“Pretty sure you won’t be wherever Talon Headquarters are, heh. But hey, I will be back and forth between there and my lab on the Lunar Colony! Come take a trip to the moon, maybe? I have some new gadgets of mine for you to inspect and sell,”

You nodded, sitting up from the couch as your other phone gave off a sound to notify you of a text message. That was your “business” phone. “Sounds like a plan; Just text me when you’re about to leave a few hours in advance and come scoop me up!”

“Okay! Ciao!”

“See ya!”

The two of you hung up as you picked up your other phone to see “ASHE DG” pop up. You practically almost dropped your phone from momentarily jumping for joy.

Oh!

OH!

It was her, and so soon!

“She must’ve really went through those new bombs quick.” You mumbled aloud as your heart rate calmed somewhat.

With a quick sigh, you unlocked your phone and read the text message.

Ashe 5:08 p.m. : Hey Sugarbean~

You 5:09 p.m. : I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon, Ashe. How can I help you?

You sent the text with a deep breath. You really had to stop acting like this with Ashe, you just had to! It was making you so vulnerable with your emotions, and heaven forbid she died or something! You’d be such a mess!

Soon, the notification went off again, and you quickly read the message.

Ashe 5:11 p.m. : Maybe I missed ya, darlin’. Just texting because I have a special proposition for you.

Typing a response, you raised an eyebrow as you mumbled the response aloud.

You 5:13 p.m. : Ha ha, very funny Ashe. What’s the proposition?

Ashe 5:16 p.m. : The boys and I are having a little New Year’s Eve bash. B.O.B wants you to come and I wanted to talk to you about looking into some more of those modified weapons; I’ve got the first stick-up of the year planned as somethin’ special.

A New Year’s Eve party, eh? Well, honestly, you didn’t see a reason to refuse. Go to the party, find out what Ashe wants specifically, go to the Lunar Colony to ask Marianna to build it, and then go for reunion week. It actually worked out perfectly — it was a win-win in your mind.

You 5:20 p.m.: Sounds good to me! Where’s the party going to be?

You held your breath for the response, impatient at best as you waited for the details to arrive to your phone.

Ashe 5:25 p.m.: At my ranch, which I just remembered you haven’t been to yet, Sugarbean. It’s in South Carolina, and one of the many spots I own. It’s very big and pretty hard to miss; the Desert Rose Manor. I’ll have B.O.B send you the location.

You sucked in a breath. “Wow, she really is that rich.” You said softly, biting your lip. Oh, man! You figured you had no shot in hell with Ashe.

You 5:27 p.m.: Alright, see you then!

Meanwhile, in one of the various places Ashe owned somewhere near Route 66, Ashe grinned wildly at her phone as her men stared to her in anticipation. “Did ya ask her boss?!” Charlie whispered anxiously. They all just had to know, y’know? Even B.O.B had sat down for this: everyone was trying to anticipate how the situation would turn out. This could either be very good, or very bad. If you said no, Ashe would be sad as all hell and hide it under anger she would lash at everyone else. If you said yes, you’d be practically answering the guys’ prayers for Ashe to be in a good mood before going back to the fierce leader she was in the morning.

Ashe looked up as she recieved your last text, placing her phone down and looking to her gang. “Bring on the liquor boys; Suagrbean said yes.”

Cheers errupted as B.O.B clapped for his master before walking up to her and tilting his head as if he had something to show Ashe. Ashe knew that look and gave a small pout. “Is it bad?”

The robot shook his head no and turned to walk into another room, away from the loud sounds or riled men and bottles popping open. Ashe followed and closed the door behind her. “What is it?”

B.O.B pressed his arm a few times until a voice capture popped up labled (Y/N). Ashe’s eyes widened. “B.O.B, did you... did you put a mic in the necklace?”

B.O.B stared at his human. Was it not clear for his mistress? Perhaps he had overstepped a bit, but he just hated seeing her miserable and longing for you. Especially when he could tell you felt the same. He swore to God, humans were weird.

Ashe smirked, “B.O.B, you absolute sneaky devil! I love ya! What’d she say?”

Lo and behold, B.O.B had set the mic to capture when Ashe’s name was brought up as well as Deadlock Gorge. B.O.B had your whole phone call with Marianna recorded and he played it back for Ashe until she blushed a bit with wide eyes. You hadn’t known she was rich from the jump, and didn’t even care? You weren’t afraid of who she was, just of the heartbreak of her denying you? You were just as afriad to screw this whole thing up as she was? You got lost in her eyes like she found herself getting lost in your own (e/c) orbs?

This changed everything. There was no more playing games now.

Ashe was going to have you.

And nobody else would.

Not ever.

“Thanks B.O.B, really. You always know just what to do to wake me up.”

B.O.B nodded and gestured back to the gang as if to ask Ashe if she’d like to go back in.

Ashe thought about it, before shaking her head as she crossed her arms. “Nah, not really thinking about drinking right now. What if I drunk text? I might send a nude to my Sugarbean and as much as I know now she’d enjoy it...that’d be a dumb move. Come on now, I don’t want her to think it was a drunken decision. I will win her over by being a gentlewoman to my Sugarbean. I might be a lot of things, but you didn’t raise a complete heathen.”

Ashe smirked, fixing her hat as she looked out of the large windows and down upon Route 66. “I am one hell of a winner though, and I know exactly how to play this card you’ve just dealt me.”

[svucarisiaddict]

Second Chances

//Second part of my take of Heartfelt Passages’, Better to have loved, in the alternate Doddsverse. Continues from HERE//

When you turned around you were surprised to see Peter Stone standing in front of you. “What brings you to NYC?” Peter was a casual acquaintance of yours and Mike’s when you lived in Chicago.

“Actually, my father passed away. I’m in town to settle his estate,” he explained.

“I’m so sorry Peter,” you said softly.

Cora pulled on your hand. “Mama. Who that?”

Peter knelt down to her level. “My name is Peter. I’m a friend of your Mommy’s. What’s your name?”

She gave him a shy smile. “Cora Danae Dodds.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Cora.”

Peter smiled at her then stood. “Can I buy you a coffee?” Peter offered. “I have an hour before a meeting. I’d like to catch up.”

“That would be nice. Thank you,” you accepted.

“How are William and Anne?” Peter inquired after you found seats.

“They’re doing really well. Anne is an angel. I don’t know what I would have done without them after Mike…” You cleared your throat. “Umm...how long will you be in town?”

Peter gazed at you then Cora, who was enjoying her smoothie. “Couple weeks maybe to get things settled, then I’m going back to Chicago.”

Your phone buzzed. It was a text from Amanda. You locked your screen, deciding to answer it later. “Sorry about that. With kids, you never know.”

“Oh yes, Your son. How old is he?”

Unlocking your phone you showed him pictures of the kids. “His name is Isaac. He’s four.”

“He looks so much like Mike,” Peter commented. He looked at his watch. “Sorry I have to go. It was so nice seeing you. And it was very good meeting you, Miss Cora.”

“Bye Petey,” she said and went back to playing with her doll.

Peter chuckled. “Dinner before I go back to Chicago?”

“Sure text me when you’re free.” The two of you exchanged numbers before he left.

“Bye ladies.” He smiled then waved. You watched as Peter made his way out the door. ‘Had he always been that handsome?’ You thought to yourself.

Before going home, you stopped by the precinct to make a quick visit and see if anyone was available for drinks on Friday. The precinct was buzzing with activity which was nothing new. But there was a different energy to it. A somber energy, like the first time you went there after Mike died.

Sonny was the first person you saw. His face lit up. “Hey, dolls!” He hugged you and Cora jumped into his arms. “Uncle Sonny!” Cora exclaimed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“What’s going on? There’s a weird energy,” you stated and looked around.

Sonny’s brow furrowed. “I thought Amanda talked to you.”

“She texted me but I was having coffee with a friend so I didn’t read it. Is everything okay?” You already knew the answer to that question.

“C’mere.” Sonny put a hand to your lower back, ushering you into the breakroom. He closed the doors behind him.

“This can’t be good,” you said simply. Sonny sat Cora at one of the tables and gave her the tablet and pen that was in his jacket.

“Here, sit,” he gestured to one of the other chairs, taking the one beside you. “Remember that baby that was kidnapped by his father because Mom wanted to end life support?”

You nodded in the affirmative. It had been all over the news. “Was there a development in the case?”

Sonny looked down at his folded hands. “Barba turned off the ventilator. He pulled the plug on that kid.”

“He what?” you said shocked. “What was he thinking? I mean I get it but…”

“Yeah. That’s kinda where all of us are.” Sonny rubbed his forehead.

The two of you sat in silence for several minutes. Both of you processing the information. Cora saw Olivia and her face brightened. “Is Noah here?” She asked excitedly.

“No sweetie. He’s in school. I’m sorry. Maybe this weekend you and Isaac can come over,” she said when she came through the door. Cora nodded enthusiastically. The two of you hugged. “I guess you know what’s going on with Barba.”

“Yeah. Sonny just told me. Have been able to talk to him?”

“No. He’s being arraigned late this morning. I did run into Jack McCoy. He introduced me to special counsel in Rafael’s trial.” She rounded the table and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Yeah? Who is it?” Sonny inquired.

“Ben Stone’s son, Peter,” she answered with disdain in her voice.

“I ran into him this morning. We had coffee,” you said. Both turned to you in surprise and confusion. “He was an acquaintance of Mike’s when we lived in Chicago.”

“Well, he’s a good prosecutor. Barba’s in for a fight.”

Your cell buzzed in your bag. ‘Thank you for coffee. Nice to have a familiar face in all the chaos. I’ll be in town a little longer than I thought. Let me know what works for dinner.’

“How about never,” you thought to yourself as you slid the phone back into your bag.

[dynowrites]

Oooh how about Stomaro and "The hotel accidentally booked us into the same room because it’s overbooked and every other hotel in the area is also completely booked" 🍑

Nick was coming back to NYC to visit his mom to make sure she was okay. Other than a few phone conversations here and there, the two haven’t talked much since Nick moved to California. Sadly, when Nick arrived at JFK airport, they had told everyone they weren’t allowed to travel due to the bad snowstorm outside. They were allowing everyone to stay the night at the airport until the storm died down or the hotels around the area. Nick had ventured to the nearest one and waited in the line before getting his key card.

“You’re in room 315, sir. Have a nice night. Sorry about the weather.” The receptionist as Nick dragged his luggage to the elevator and up to the third floor. Once he got there, he found his room and unlocked the door. When he opened the door, he noticed a bag of luggage by the bed.

“Hello?” A voice called out. Nick from as he turned to the door.

“Sorry, I must be in the wrong room. They told me 315 was the room I was in…” Nick called out. A male came from the bedroom and raised a brow.

“This is room 315. They said there was only one key to this room…” The male said to Nick. Nick groaned as he walked over to the phone to call the desk.

“Yes, hello. I was put in room 315 and there is already a guest here… yeah… uhuh... well can’t call another hotel in the area to find me a room? Are you serious?” In the middle of the woman at the desk talking, Nick slammed the phone on the receiver with a huff.

“You okay?” The male asked Nick. Nick covered his face and sighed.

“They overbooked the hotel and didn’t have all the information in the system of who was here. They’re saying the snowstorm is making the computers run slow. All the hotels are booked and I can’t get out to go visit my mother.” Nick said as he sat on the fire bed. The man frowned and checked his watch.

“If you want, you can stay here tonight. They say by morning the snow should stop and roads should be clear. I’m Peter, by the way.” Peter smiled as he sat on the opposite bed and watched Nick.

“Nick. You visiting the city?” Nick asked as Peter sighed.

“I’ve been here a few months. My father has been really sick and he just passed away. I was actually heading back to Chicago to pack up my apartment to move here but my flight was cancelled and they got me a room here.” Peter sighed out. Nick looked over at him with a frown.

“Sorry, man. Really.” Nick said as he watched Peter. He shrugged and watched Nick.

“I just got a job here actually. A bit of a change but at least I’ll be closer to my sister.” Peter watched as Nick shifted and moved to grab his suitcase to pull it by the bed.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer. I transferred from Homicide in Chicago to SVU in Manhattan. The Sp-“

“Special Victims Unit. Yeah. I worked with them for a few years. Is Olivia still in charge?” Nick chuckled as he thought about the job he had before moving.

“She is. Barba left and they needed a new ADA so I said I would take the job.” Peter said as he glanced at the time. “You want something for dinner? I can order some room service, my treat.” Peter went to find the menu but Nick held his hand up.

“I got it, Peter. After what happened with your father, I can spare some money to buy you dinner.” Nick said as he pulled his wallet out and took money out of it.

The rest of the night, the two sat around and talked about work. How Peter wasn’t exactly ready to go from Homicide to SVU after what happened with Barba, but he was ready for the career change. Nick has talked about his transfer from SVU in New York to working patrol in LA.

Once the morning came around, they were both ready to go on their ways. Once they had showered and ate breakfast, the two stood at the entrance of the hotel and shook hands.

“I wouldn’t mind talking to you again. How often do you come to the city?” Peter asked Nick. Nick shrugged some and frowned.

“Depends on the holiday. I have my kids every other holiday but I’m coming down for Easter with my mom and sister. So maybe we can catch up then?” Nick said causing a smile to cross over Peter’s lips.

“Here’s my number. Call me next time you’re in town.” Peter said as he pulled a piece of paper from his backpack he had on and quickly write his number down. Nick smiled and nodded.

“Alright, I’ll see you then, Peter.” Nick said before him and Peter ventured out into the cold, got into separate cabs and went on their way.

[astoriaphonerepair]

Contact Astoria Phone Repair at (718) 777-8643 for the collection of the latest unlocked phones in NYC. Visit their store at 31-89 Steinway St, Astoria, NY 11103.

[artificialqueens]

Sit back and watch the bed burn (Craquaria) - SamWhity

A/N: I originally planned to write this story following the timeline of my other oneshots but the plot somehow changed while I was writing it and this is the final result. I hope you’ll enjoy it. :) The title comes once again from a song by Florence + The Machine called “Kiss with a fist”

Summary: Just while the older one was turning to face her, their lips crashed. It was unexpected, messy and awkward but they couldn’t let go. They spent a couple of minutes like that, looking at each other, connected by the lips and afraid to ruin the strange magic of such a precious moment. Or: Miz Cracker checks on Aquaria after filming and end up taking big life decisions.

“Have you guys heard from Aquaria?”.

Yuhua’s question broke an otherwise comfortable silence, while the queen, Monét, Miz Cracker, Dusty and her husband were having brunch. Monét took a spoonful of guacamole and put it on her gluten-free toast, before answering.

“I tried to call her yesterday but she hasn’t answered or called me back”, she said, before frowning and adding: “Do you guys think she’s not okay?”.

Dusty’s husband took a sip of his Mimosa, before sighing.

“You haven’t heard it from me”, he started, causing the others to look at him perplexed, “but it seems that she’s not doing well, after the last days of filming. Susanne is kinda worried, actually. You know, Aquaria is like the baby of them all…” he finished his sentence with a snort.

Miz Cracker sighed, before setting her fork down and taking a sip of her coffee.

“I’ll ask Katelyn”, she claimed.

Her relationship with Aquaria was a delicate balance of affection, admiration and shade she sometimes still struggled to understand: knowing the younger one wasn’t feeling well and decided not to call her made her heart clench in an unexpected way.

They ate their food in silence, before Yuhua asked: “Should we check on her?”.

Dusty nodded, before adding: “Maybe we should”.

Monét took a piece of fruit, before mumbling: “It’s maybe best if we ask Katelyn to call her or whatever. We all know how defensive she can get”.

Despite her cocky attitude, everyone who knew Aquaria well enough was aware of her deep insecurities and of all the, sometimes unhealthy, ways she tried to cope with them. The young queen used to hang out with loud personalities and motherly figures in order to feel safe enough to be herself and, when put under a certain amount of pressure, she tended to push people out of her life. After coming back from filming, she immediately started working again and managed to always find an excuse when invited to meet up with the rest of her NYC season sisters. They all got to see her new photos, they heard all about her wonderful performances but they never got to see her for long enough to have an actual conversation with her. Only Monét, being her loving and bubbly self, managed to exchange a couple of words with her young friend, during a Frankie Sharp event, and all the other one said, before running away, was: “I know, I’m sorry. I actually have to go”.

Without a word, Cracker took her phone and typed a message to her best friend, before putting the device away and sipping on her coffee.

“And now we wait”, she sighed.

Miz Cracker, 11:30 am: Have you heard from Aquaria? Could you please check on her?

Katelyn’s answer came a couple of minutes later.

Katelyn, 11:33 am: I tried to call and got a message saying she’s not feeling 100%. Maybe flu.

A second message was sent right after the first.

Katelyn, 11:34 am: I don’t buy it. I can stop by, bringing soup or whatever.

“Katelyn is stopping by. I’ll keep you posted”, Cracker said, before turning to Monét in desperate need of a change of subject: “Now, how was the show yesterday?”.

Katelyn came back home soon after Cracker, carrying a plastic bag with a couple of now empty Tupperware containers. The girl seemed tired and worried, much to the other one’s despair.

“What happened?”, asked the queen, as soon as her best friend sat on the couch with her.

The blonde shrugged, before answering: “So, I stopped by with soup and stuff, right?”.

Miz Cracker nodded, waiting to hear the rest of the story.

“Aquaria looked tired, she said it was the flu but… “she suddenly stopped, trying to find the right words, before finishing her sentence: “I don’t know. I’m not totally sold. I think it has to do with the show and her anxiety. She said something to me…”.

“What? What did she say?” the queen asked, interrupting her friend.

“She said something about disappointing the people she loves and feeling bad about things” Katelyn tried to recall.

“Things?” Cracker asked, hesitant and somehow worried.

The other one shrugged, before adding: “Maybe you should go. Or Monét. Just don’t send Yuhua! She’s sweet and lovely and stuff but…”.

“Yeah, definitely not Yuhua” Miz Cracker agreed, before smiling softly and adding: “Thanks for stepping in, Kat”.

Katelyn smiled back, before murmuring: “You know I love her, we all do. Some more than others”, she teased, before getting up and asking: “How about a cup of tea?”.

The following day, Miz Cracker wrote a quick message to Aquaria letting her know she would have stopped by to check on her. Needles to say, the other one didn’t seem thrilled about it.

Aquaria, 10:47 am: It’s not necessary. It’s just some stupid flu.

The queen rolled her eyes, before typing a quick answer.

Miz Cracker, 10:47 am: Already on my way :D

She put her phone away, before taking her keys and exiting the building.

Her phone buzzed.

Aquaria, 10:48 am: I don’t want you to get sick! It’s maybe better if we postpone…

Cracker sighed, before typing an answer.

Miz Cracker, 10:49 am: Nonsense! I’ll see you in a few :D

She made her way to the subway station: the train was arriving in the exact moment when she reached the platform, she noticed. She mindlessly put her headphones on and started listening to some music.

Just like she expected,after unlocking her phone the queen found a series of messages from a certain other drag queen.

Aquaria, 10:53 am: I don’t mean to be rude but can we please postpone? Not feeling well :(

Aquaria, 10:53 am: Pleeeeease

Aquaria, 10:54 am: Are you purposefully ignoring me?

Aquaria, 10:54 am: Stop ignoring me, you hoe!

Aquaria, 10:55 am: I just got out of bed and look like crap. Please, let’s postpone

Aquaria, 10:55 am: Cracker, let’s meet with the others at the end of the week.. it’ll be fun, the NYC girls all together ;)

Aquaria, 10:56 am: I feel like you’re purposefully ignoring me and I don’t like it

Aquaria, 10:57 am: Crackeeeeer!

Miz Cracker chuckled, before sliding the phone in her pocket and exiting the train. It was a short walk to Aquaria’s apartment and the queen spent it listening to an old mix she never got to lip sync to. She rang the bell, waiting to be let in.

“Yes?” Aquaria’s voice was low and a little raspy.

“It’s me. Let me in, pretty please?” the other one asked, before adding: “Or I’ll send Yuhua to check on you”.

Needles to say, she was immediately let in.

“I love the power of those threats” she thought, pretty pleased with herself.

Cracker made her way to the elevator, pressed the button for the 23th floor and waited for the doors to close. She istinctively checked her reflection into the mirror, before sighing and mumbling: “It’s not about it, stupid”.

The doors opened with a “ding” and the queen quickly exited, before turning to the left directed to Aquaria’s apartment. She knocked, before hearing a muffled “It’s open”.

The place was cluttered but not as chaotic as one would have thought, Miz Cracker noticed. Before she could inspect any further, she was greeted by the other one.

“You shouldn’t have come”, she sighed, “What if you catch something?”

Without answering the question, the older one made her way to the sofa in the living room and patted the spot next to her.

“Come sit with me”, she said with a smile.

Aquaria sat next to her friend, looking at her nails like they were holding the secret of life itself.

“How are you feeling?”.

Cracker’s question let her lips before she could even realize it, so she just added: “I mean, for real. How are you really feeling?”.

The other one joined her on the couch, before sighing.

“I’m just tired, and sick and…” she couldn’t finish her sentence, interrupted by the older one’s voice singsonging a teasing “Cranky?”.

Aquaria scoffed, crossing her arms and pouting adorably.

“I’m not cranky”, she mumbled.

Miz Cracker smiled, before passing an arm around the younger one’s shoulders and engulfing her in a slightly awkward embrace. They remained in silence for a couple of minutes, each one lost in their thoughts, before Aquaria started talking.

“Do you ever think about how they are editing everything?” she asked, before bringing her hand to her mouth and starting to chew on her nails.

The other one took her hand in hers and sighed.

“Stop, you’ll bleed all over and nail glue burns”, she started, before tightening her grip, “You don’t have power on whatever they will decide to play, Aquaria. You can’t spend the rest of your life in this cluttered cave just because of something you can’t control”.

Aquaria pouted adorably, before muttering: “I’m actually sick, you dumb. And it’s not cluttered!”.

Cracker smiled, before continuing to speak: “Listen, you had a great run. Sure, you had your moments but you did good. And you should be proud of yourself, instead of stressing out about things you have no control over”.

The other one nodded, before snuggling into Miz’s embrace and sighing, unable to hold her tongue any longer.

“What if I fucked up? Sharon will be so mad…”.

Aquaria’s relationship with her drag mother was a sensible topic. Everybody knew it. Sharon was the younger one’s role model, inspiration and often even confidant: the pressure of making her proud sometimes kept her drag daughter from taking certain risks or trying certain things and it seemed like neither of them was aware of it. It was a delicate balance made of late phone calls, Skype hangouts and occasional meetings and Cracker couldn’t help but ask herself why Sharon hadn’t already called to check on her. Maybe she had, she thought, maybe the young queen just ignored her calls.

“Why don’t you call her?” the older one asked “I can wait here, if you want” she then offered.

“Would you really stay?” the surprise in Aquaria’s voice made the other queen smile.

“Of course”, she nodded.

With a sigh Aquaria got up and went to grab her phone, before sitting back on the sofa and biting her lips.

“Here we go”.

“Pumpkin! Are you okay? What happened?” Sharon’s voice shifted from excitement to worry in a matter of seconds, “Giovanni, talk to me”.

Cracker couldn’t hide a smile: typical Aquaria. The thought that she couldn’t open up even to her mentor made her feel a little bit better.

“I got home from filming”, the younger one’s voice broke the silence “I’m… I’m kinda…” she reached for the other one’s hand and squeezed it without even realizing it “I’m kinda freaking out” she then admitted, chewing on her lower lip.

Sharon sighed, before speaking.

“Listen”, she said “You can’t expect for everybody to like you or what you’ll put out there, it just doesn’t work like that. Just remember that you did your best, I know you did. And that we have your back. I mean, I’m an old alcoholic drag-queen but no one will come for my baby on my watch” she said, before yawning “Pumpkin I actually have to go. Skype later this evening?”.

Aquaria nodded, before answering: “Yeah, sure. Thanks for answering”.

The other one scoffed.

“Of course, you dummy! I’ll talk to you later, okay?”.

After finishing the phone call, the younger one snuggled back in that awkward but somehow comforting embrace and sighed.

“See? Everything is going to be fine. No need to segregate yourself”, Cracker smiled, before adding: “And now shower, miss thing! We’re going out!”.

The other one nodded, before reaching to hug Cracker one last time. Just while the older one was turning to face her, their lips crashed. It was unexpected, messy and awkward but they couldn’t let go. They spent a couple of minutes like that, looking at each other, connected by the lips and afraid to ruin the strange magic of such a precious moment.

The older one moved slightly and, before Aquaria could even think about what to say, she said: “Go take your shower, okay?”.

There was an affectionate softness in her voice that made Aquaria nod and got up without a word.

Alone in the room, Cracker sighed.

“Shit” she murmured, before taking her phone and ignoring the message from her boyfriend just to quickly write to Katelyn.

Miz Cracker, 11:58 am: I think I like her. A lot. Shit. Talk to you when I get back.

That same evening, after a long chat with Katelyn, just before he was heading to bed, Cracker found a message on her phone.

Sharon Needles, 11:37 pm: I don’t know what is going on between you and Aquaria. I actually don’t even know if there actually is something going on but still… thank you. She’s all over the place, right now. Having someone to lean on that isn’t a dumb club-kid with ego problems is a good thing for her.

A second text quickly followed the first one.

Sharon Needles, 11:41 pm: Having said that, hurt my baby and you’ll be dead in a ditch.

She smiled, before opening another conversation and typing a message.

Miz Cracker, 11:43 pm: I think we need to talk.

The answer came in pretty quickly.

Jason, 11:45 pm: Are you okay? What happened?

The queen sighed, before receiving a second text, this time from someone else.

Aquaria, 11:46 pm: Thanks for stopping by and putting up with my dumb self. I’m sorry for what happened, I didn’t mean to, I know you have a boyfriend and stuff. Please don’t be mad at me, or at yourself. Please don’t be mad at yourself, Maxwell. I promise I’ll keep my distance and stuff, okay? Just please don’t be mad.

“Shit”, he mumbled, before abandoning the idea of going to sleep and sitting on the couch with her phone in her hands. She somehow had to sort that mess out.

Miz Cracker, 11:47 pm: I’m not mad. I just need to process everything. But I’m not mad and I don’t want you to keep any kind of distance. Please don’t keep your distance. I’ll see you soon, okay? I kinda feel like we have to talk.

Miz Cracker, 11:48 pm: I think we need to talk. Something happened and I would really much love to talk to you in person. Please don’t freak out.

Aquaria, 11:48 pm: Okay. I’ll wait for you.

Cracker smiled, before noticing another string of texts.

Jason, 11:48 pm: Now I am freaking out.

Jason, 11:49 pm: Can’t you just tell me what happened?

Jason, 11:50 pm: Baby, are you okay?

Jason, 11:50 pm: I feel like I need to come over. Can I stop by?

Cracker sighed, before answering.

Miz Cracker, 11:51 pm: Okay. Please bring coffee.

It was definitely going to be a long night.

Jason left after two hours of recriminations, screaming and tears. Words like “how could you?” and “it’s all so fucked up!” were also said and the man left the apartment just in time for the neighbours to say: “Do you actually know that people are sleeping? Have some respect!” and them being greeted with a grunt that sounded a lot like “Fuck you”.

Needless to say, Miz Cracker was exhausted and sad. In the year they had dated it never occurred to her that she could have been the one ending things. Not because she couldn’t stop herself for falling for someone younger than her and so incredibly endearing without even knowing it. Not because she kissed Aquaria and suddenly realized there was so much more to their relationship that just admiration. Funnily enough, she was the last one to realize the actual nature of her feelings and even her room-mate, a big supporter of Jason, smiled sadly and nodded when she brought up the fact that she was thinking about breaking up with him.

“It was the honest thing to do”, she mumbled to herself, before turning to Katelyn and smiling apologetically: “Sorry again for the noise, Katelyn”.

The other one shrugged, before hugging her tightly and patting her back.

“It’s okay. Do you want to talk about it?”, she asked, “It looks like we won’t be able to catch much sleep anyway”.

Cracker sighed.

“Not really. I kinda need to figure shit out. You should go to sleep, I need to make a call” she then moved to her room and closed the door.

Aquaria answered immediately.

“Are you okay?” she asked concerned, before mumbling: “Of course you’re not okay. Stupid question. I’m so sorry, I really am”.

The other one sighed, before deciding to bite the bullet.

“I need you to be honest with me. No bullshit.” she said, then added: “I broke up with Jason. I did it because I like you and I couldn’t be with him and still like you the way I do.”

“Okay” the younger one murmured.

“I feel like you like me too, and we both know what I mean with that” Cracker continued, not even noticing that she was raising her voice.

“I do”, Aquaria’s, on the contrary, lowered her voice.

“I know that you’re scared. Because of the show, because of this, because of things. I know it and I get it” Miz Cracker closed her eyes, before sighing and mumbling: “And I am too, but I thought… maybe we could be scared together?”.

Aquaria, laying in bed in her allegedly cluttered apartment, smiled. This was the Cracker she loved: this kind, humble and frankly adorable human being who was willing to trust her enough to share her fears with her. Maybe, she thought, they could make it work. Maybe they could really be scared together.

“I have a photo-shoot tomorrow. In front of the MET. Wanna meet up after that?” she asked softly, before adding: “I kinda feel like I want to tell you this in person…”.

“Tell me what?” the other one asked, slightly panicking.

“That I would love to be scared together with you. Because I like you a lot and…”.

Aquaria’s awkward speech was cut short by Miz Cracker.

“I’ll be there”, she said, before noticing how late it was and continuing: “Now go to bed, Aqua. We’ll talk later, okay?”.

A couple of minutes later, just when she thought she was finally falling asleep, the older one got a last message with an audio attached and, after listening to the track and reading the note, she couldn’t stop smiling.

Aquaria, 01:43 am: My mum used to listen to this song on repeat, when I was a kid. It says “because you’re special and I’ll take care of you”. Consider it your lullaby for the night. Yes, I’m dumb and corny and you can still run away from it.

Aquaria, 01:44 am: Please don’t run away, though.

She quickly typed an answer, before finally closing her eyes and falling asleep.

Miz Cracker, 01:44 am: I’m not going anywhere except to sleep. Goodnight, Giovanni.

A/N (2): Susanne is obviously Susanne Bartsch, club owner extraordinaire and creator of thos amazing lashes we all saw Aquaria, Milk and Hungry wearing. Here you can take a look at her Instagram. Also: I absolutely adore Yuhua but I needed someone to poke a little fun at and she was like the perfect (little) candidate. No bashing intended. Same goes for Cracker’s boyfriend, whose name I came up with. ;) The song Aquaria sends Cracker is an italian song called “La cura” by an incredible song-writer called Franco Battiato. It’s really beautiful and you can listen to it here.

[futurebird]

Myrmysterious Fiction

This is a short story I've been working on about ants...

------

I work at a fruit stand in the Bronx and I’m used to strange requests. But nothing, nothing, prepared me for the ants. I mean there aren’t a lot of ants in NYC, I’m told if we had more they kill the roaches... but, I don’t know if I’m ready to see an ant again. Not yet.

It was a slow night (despite the game at the stadium.) It was the first warm night of the year and this woman approaches me. She’s small and old with frizzy white hair and she said

“I know you have ants, don’t you?”

Of course, I said

“no way! our stand is clean!”

but she was shaking her head

“That’s not what I meant, honey. I mean you find ants, from time to time, in your shipping crates, yes?”

It was a strange thing to ask, but she was right. I had found ants in the mangos or under the melons.

“Excellent!” she squealed. “then you, young lady, can help me!”

I looked around hoping that people would be staring or that there was a way out... but then she gave me a $50 bill.

“look for ants. And, if you see them call me, and I will give you another. “

Then she got close, confidential.

“don’t talk about this, Ok? you might even see ants that have replaced every fruit in your crate. Stay calm. Call me not an—“ and she spit on the ground with disgust “-an exterminator!”

So, the summer began... and I looked for ants.

 

---

 

Benny is my boss. He's run a fruit stand for as long as anyone can remember. I'm the only employee, and I'm really mostly there for the days when Benny can't work because his leg is acting up. And of course his leg had to be giving him trouble today, when crate trucks were coming by. 

All NYC fruit stands buy from a variety of sources. And most of them come to us. Sometimes it's seconds from the fancy supermarkets (and that means combing over the fruits removing the rottens to get them ready to sell) Other times it's upstate farmers or drivers taking unsold goods from the Hunt's Point market. The Hunt's Point market stuff is the best since you never know what they will have. 

"cocoa pods" The driver said. She was a wiry woman who never stopped smoking. I think her name was Greta or maybe Gertie? She didn't get out of the driver's seat of the small truck but gave me the nod to come over and negotiate. 

"cocoa pods? You mean like for chocolate?" I asked. I'd never heard of people eating fresh cocoa pods. I didn't even really know what one would look like. 

 

"Some of your Columbian customers might like them." Said Gretta, "and I think white people, like you know hipster types eat them too, like it's a fad, like those icky berries everyone wanted a few years back."

"açaí berries" I corrected. (For a person who sold exotic fruit for a living Gretta was not all that interested in her products. Or she liked to give that impression I suppose.)

"whatever" She said, and took a drag on her cigarette. 

I was going to tell her I didn't want the cocoa pods. We don't have may "hipster types" in this part of the Bronx. And no one I know from Columbia has ever talked about just munching on raw cocoa. But, then I remembered my mysterious ant-coveting benefactor. 

"Well, I don't know if I can sell many here... but just for kicks how much do you want for just one crate?" I asked with feigned disinterest. 

"Sixteen. And that's a steal too. I've seen them at Whole Foods and they wanted sixteen for just a pod." Gretta nodded sagely.

"I ain't Whole Foods." I said with a laugh, "How about I give you ten?"

Gretta took out her phone and dramatically pretended to dial. "911? Help. Some fruit stand kid is trying to rob me!" She said.

"Come on. I know you have more than you'll sell. Listen. If I sell them all (as if) I'll give you four bucks next week." I said. 

"Okay, fair enough, kid." She said putting the phone away.  "It's unlocked, take one of the ones in the back, they are less pawed over, and I suspect if you do have buyers around here they will know a good one from a bad."

I carefully peeled out a ten dollar bill from my cash for Grettie and went around to the back of her small truck. It had been a white truck... once. But, over the years of plying the NYC streets it had collected so many layers of graffiti that you could hardly tell the model, let alone the original color. The graffiti was a kind of theft prevention many drivers had said. But, I think some of them just secretly like how it looks. I pushed up the door and peered into the darkness. 

I've never been scared of getting fruit out of dark trucks in the past... but somehow, with ants on my mind, the task seem more ominious. 

"Hurry up!" Called Greta "I don't have all day!"

I steeled myself and climbed deep into the back of the truck. It was cool and dark and the sounds of 161st street faded. All I could hear was the leaky inefficient compressor that tried to keep the truck from becoming an oven and faint noises of traffic. I selected the smallest wooden crate, one that was well-sealed with tufts of coco fiber packing peeking out from between the slats. On it was a bright colorful label with images of busty island women and perfect tropical fruits. 

And it might have been my imagination but when I picked it up I swear I heard something rustle... deep within. 

 

To be continued. 

[212nycwireless]

At 212 NYC Wireless they sell Nokia – 6.1 with 32GB Memory Cell Phone (Unlocked), Call at +1 (212) 496-2900, or visit them at 2263 Broadway, New York.