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jackiequick · 8 months ago

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A Visit From An Old Friend — [ Marvel Fanfic]

Summary: What happens when an old friend comes to visit to recruit something bigger than himself? In other words, a small family reunion between friends, with a couple of ants crawling around.

Platonic Pairing: Hank Pym & Jason Underwood

Characters featured/mentioned: The Young Avengers, Janet Van Dyne, Liz Stark, Howard Stark, Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne and etc.

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Ant-Man (2015)

Fic type: Short Blurb

Small warning: Some fluff and angst

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The daylights were in full swing, the radio was high and bright as he drove down the road to a old house he used to call home. At the steps of the house stood a man he hasn't seen in the late 80s but never forgotten.

Above the steps stood the man with dark rich blonde curls spiked in a nicely manner, a blue colored shirt and black James Dean jeans wearing a pair of shades himself. He sipping on a cup of coffee with a half smile to boot.

He parked the car in the east side of the parkway as he existed the vehicle, flipping the keys in hand and removed his sunglasses with a smile.

As he took towards the step he heard the man said, "Hank."

"JJ." He replied, as he was handed a cup of warm coffee.

"What was the reason for this visit?"

"You got my email didn't you?"

"Yup."

"You missed seeing Hope."

"It was an 8 hour drive! You know how hard it was to get out of that house without Felton and Rei breathing down my neck?"

"This is why I stopped babysitting."

The blonde just playfully glared following the older one into his old home. Jason hasn't been in this house of his in more than a century, having took time to take care of his older one in Malibu. Yet, he never had the heart to throw away the keys, so instead he gave them to Hank. And by god, was he glad he did.

His old home was kept nice and cleaned, some mess here and there. A few dust particles in certain smaller areas but other than that it was fine. Keeping its cozy yet vintage style. Hank sat down on the grey couch that used to be a dark brown, sipping his second morning coffee taking in the moment of peace. Jason sat in the armchair beside him closing his eyes.

Neither man had to say a word to know that they missed the peace and quiet this house brought. No screaming children, calls from SHIELD, nor nagging neighbors trying to get you to babysit their dumb dog for the weekend. Just a moment of total silence from the world around them.

Yes, truth be told, after 1989 Hank was never seen again towards SHIELD's main offices due to his stupid fallout with Howard and the others. But he often kept in touch with people like him or Peggy, whenever possible. Mainly because Hope wanted to see her aunts and uncles, and after Janet's passing Hank couldn't deprive his daughter from not having any closer family or friends around.

Jason tended to be his go-to person whenever he needed a quick babysitter for Hope, whenever the blonde was in town and he happily said yes. He first thought Hank would want nothing to do with him after what Howard pulled on the man, but after a small debate on that very day both men realized they couldn't hold grudges against each other.

They already had too many grudges over their heads to even count, why add another? It would only lead to a bigger headache anyways.

So over the years, Hank and Jason would put aside a small time to check in on one another. Make sure the other man wasn't dead yet. It was a running joke on who would die first out of the two. But at this rate, knowing the people in their lives, they won't let them get bury in the ground so easily.

Yet.

He peaked an eye open as he rested his head and asked, "JJ? You got what I sent you?"

The others eyes were still closed as he hummed, "Yeah. I sent the small package and if I'm correct, it will be brought though word of mouth soon enough."

"Good. I hope this guys is worth it. If he's smart enough, he will do as I planned."

"Why Scott Lang anyway? I gave you a list of people you can choose from and you chose him..."

"Scott Lang broke into Vistacorp Headquarters to pay back the money VistaCorp had been stealing from their users, before he brought into prison. Heard of it?"

"Yeah, he pulled strong a stunt risking to pay back all that money they took. According to the file, he has a master degree in electrical engineering, which gave him the skills to hack into their grid."

Hank smirked, "That's why I need him. He has a special set of skills as a hacker and thief. I want to test him, see if he's able to play the game right."

"If he can break into the lock and steal the suit, then he was a right fit." Jason added with a grin, "..he also has a daughter Hank. You know better than anyone the length you would go to see your kid. Chances are, he ends up in jail again."

"He won't."

"Hank."

"I have a plan. Trust me on this one."

"And I'll be here to say 'I told you so' when it goes sideways."

The two crack a chuckle knowing it was bound to happen whether they liked it or not. But if the plan does end up going sideways, they always had other ways of doing things. Even if it meant going undercover to bait Scott Lang into the older man's plan. Both spent the rest of the day catching up, watching some tv and grabbing a bite to eat.

None of the Young Avengers knew that Jason was gone for a short couple of days. Well, some of them noticed as he has been receiving calls from a few thought the day. Mainly ones from Rei, Liane, Rochelle, Ji-Hoon, Lydia and even Wanda. Hank commented how he was still amazed he hasn't lost his head yet.

"Who said I haven't?" Jason joked with a small chuckle.

"Who's watching them?" He asked in returning smiling.

"Elizabeth, Nat and Bruce. I hope."

"Oh dear god. Now, I gotta know, who's the hardest to watch over?"

"Depends on the day. Rei is the easiest at most, Rochelle is rather shy and hangs out with her friends..but Liane.."

"Felton's what? Oh. You can't lie to me, and not say Rei Stark doesn't turn your gears one bit."

"Rei does make me question my life choices, but I love him to death. Felton, she is a handful and a total bitch at times. It's why I always hand her off to Hill to taken care of. I need my silence."

That caused Hank to snort and laugh. He knew the man was too polite to say anything to harsh per say, not knowing who's around to hear him but if possible he will let a rip.

"Now that's the Jason I know, call it how it is!" He shouted as he tossed a chip into his mouth, "Half of them ain't even your kids."

The blonde smirked nodding, knowing the grey man's words to be truth. There are good couple of them aren't his legally or even raised them from childhood, but a part of him does care. Even if he wants to shut up half the time.

Hell, even the ants joined in on the fun. They are 247 of them after all, the ants were bound to make their appearance in carrying items around and or, helping them with alerting any incoming news on the heist they were waiting to happen.

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Later on, that very night they went to the basement as they turned on the lights to reveal a high tech level of security cameras, microphones and chairs laying around. It was linked up to whatever humanity possible can find, in this case, the ants.

They watched Scott break into his house, as Hank seemed impressed by his work giving Jason a couple of approved nods, as they kept rolling the tape. The handy work, the levels of patience and precision Scott Lang had was amazing. His quick thinking and ways he moved around the area at quick speed was something he could only imagine to do when he was back in the 40s. Hank used to think and move that fast in the late 80s. More or less.

Without a better matter of minutes he took the suit and ran. They spend the better part of the next day, watching Scott and see what he would do.

That he was expandable. And that he was. Jason chocked out a laugh at how freaked out he was as Hank talked into the coms. Sadly of course, the moment he returned the suit, he was caught red handed by the cops.

It was Hope's doing. She didn't know much about the man or the fact that he had a track record he was trying to maintain. Which led Hank to toss a pair of suits over to Jason, telling him it's time to lawyer up, as the man rolled his eyes at his friend.

Once they were in the prison, Scott Lang was brought into a room confused more the most part, not understanding who they were. He didn't know about the fact that he had a lawyer watching after him. They told him second chances don't always come easily, especially for men like him, next time he gets one, he should take a closer look onto what it is. And he's smart enough, he will listen to them.

Thankfully he did, as Hank ordered the ants to get Scott escape the jail cell and be brought home that night. However the man got dizzy and past out, resulting him to be knocked out cold in one the guest bedrooms of the house.

Hank's house, since he had more tech and landscape to work around than Jason did. As they waited for him to wake up, the blonde went out grab some more supplies and food. He was hungry.

When he returned home with the items needed, entering quietly through the front door he heard it. Hope was here. He should've known she would've made an appearance at some point.

"Please tell me you didn't call JJ." She said looking at her father with her arms crossed.

"I didn't call JJ." Her father responded with a sigh, trying to enjoy his tea.

"He is busy right now."

"I didn't call him."

She pointed to the brown leather jacket that was on the chair beside her. The one she gave the blonde years ago for a birthday present when she was in high school. Her father said he was borrowing it from the man's closet when he went to check on his home.

"You liar. Like always. Just say that you did." Hope remarked.

Hank groaned, "I emailed him."

"You tipped him. Dragging his ass here, for what? I can handle the mission myself!"

"No, you can't! He needed one-"

"You never listen to me!"

"Hope!"

She looked over her shoulder at face the voice who called out her name like an old memory. Only to find her uncle standing there with a stern look on his face, his usual cheeky grin was exchanged for a pair of lined smile and frustrated eyes that glared into her soul. He made her feel like a child again, getting in trouble for yelling at her father or running away from school grounds to play with her friends.

She looked down, feeling less than, muttering a soft 'sorry' in his direction as he simply nodded. He shook his head and sighed at his niece. He hated seeing them fight, he knew they had their reasons but she walked away a long time ago, just to prove a point to her father that she was worth it. And she already was.

"I didn't know..I uh, would've liked a heads up that you were coming..." She admitted for being silent for a moment.

He placed the bag of groceries on the table as he gave her a small half smile, "I know..but I knew you would've said otherwise and convince me to stay home."

"You don't have to be here. I can handle this."

"I know. But I'm here now, it's not like I'm going to waste a long drive just to be stuck at home listening to ABBA on the radio."

"Still. You should've-"

"Hope. Just don't. What's done is done. I came at my own risk and I won't be staying long, just to make sure a few things are in check."

"..I uh, I missed you."

"I did too."

She pulled her arms out to be taking in by his embrace. The warmth of his hugs always felt like a nice blanket as he wrapped her arms around him and kissed her forehead. She rested her head against his shoulder having another moment of silence to relax, sending a small glare to her father. She chuckled hearing her uncle brought her favorite ice cream from Basin Robins to help ease the tension, causing a tiny grunt from Hank. Her uncle smirked and told her to get Scott as she pulled away with a small smile.

When Hope walked out, he turned around to see his old friend sending daggers swords him. Jason just shrugged, "What?"

"You can't win her over with ice cream and hugs." He remarked.

"Yes I can. That's my job as the uncle. Make you look bad, so you want to work harder for her affection."

"That's not how it's supposed to work."

"That's exactly how it's supposed to work."

Soon enough, Scott and Hope joined them in the dinning room, as they talked trying to explain the situation to the confused brunette. Hope and Hank bricked as they did, as Jason tried to defuse the issue at hand introducing the trio. Scott listened along, trying to piece together everything they said, hearing how they were impressed with his work as well. He was offered some sugar, watching the ants push it around.

"H-how do you make them do that?" Scott asked pointing to the said ants, watching one climb onto Jason's finger with ease.

"Ants can lift objects 50 times their size. They can build farms. Corporate with each other." Hank explained.

"Right. But how do you make them do that?"

"I used electromagnetic waves to stimulate their factor's nerves center using a device. I speak to the Ants. I can go anywhere, see everything and hear everything."

"And still know absolutely nothing. I'm late for a meeting." Hope injects with a clear tone, pressing a kiss to her uncles cheek and a nod to her father.

"Be safe!" Jason calls out with a half smile, sipping his tea.

"Always am!"

With that she walks out. Scott raised an hand asking who the hell they are, what the hell is going on and if he could back to jail. Jason rolled his eyes telling both men to follow him.

They walked and talked heading down to the basement to reveal a small headquarters as Scott looked around in awe. Hank explained the suit and his role in this as Jason finished setting up a few things adding in a jab or two as he went along.

"Pym tech? SHIELD?" Scott said muttering under his breathe as he followed their voices.

"Darren Cross had heard rumors around the Pym Particles. Something that both companies tried to keep under lock and key, with only a few knowing it existed." Jason explained.

"And he became obsessed with recreating my formula." Hank continued to explain holding a vial of Pym particles, "But I wouldn't help. So he partially voted me out of my own company. Hope was chairmen of the board, so that helped. But she came back to me when she saw how close he was with his process. But without a suit, the brain isn't protected."

"Causing a fiery sensational effect that can make the brain unstable. And Cross hasn't realized that part yet. So with our luck, he'll die."

"Be nice, JJ. Cross isn't the most stable guy to begin with."

Scott listen then asked, "So what do you want from me?"

Both men exchange a look as Hank walked over to Scott Lang and told him he believed in second chances for everyone. A redemption. Saying that if he does that, he can start a new path and get some insight wiped off his records. Scott looked pleased declaring that he will go along with the plan of theirs. Within a couple of hours, they all got to work.

Scott began to start training how to use the suit, understanding the plan and communicating with the idea on how to get into the building. He got learn about the concept of the ants and their behavior in the process of the world. Hope and Jason offered to teach Scott some fighting techniques to help him later on. Hope smirked getting a good swing at Scott punching him hard enough he fell backwards, as Jason snorted at their dynamic play between the tackles to the ground.

———-

—————

It got to a certain point where Scott was given the opportunity to learn how to control the ants. Hank acted as director for him, telling him to focus having faith that he can do it. Scott tried but it didn’t work. Hope groan annoyed telling him how he needed to commit to communicating with them, he has to mean it. The father daughter duo, once again began to argue over the subject. Jason reminded them on how the focus should be on helping Scott with the trails.

“Really? That’s where our focus should be?” Hope said, taking the device used for the ants and held it close to her ear controlling to do more than just add sugar to the tea. She caused to room to darken as the ants blocked out the lights, Hank caught her before she can act by further. Her voice broke as she muttered a few words at her father and sighed before exiting the room.

Hank knew he couldn’t do it without her. Since day one she has requested to be put in the suit, do the trails and get the mission accomplished herself, but her father refused every request she made. Jason knew the reason why. Scott noticed the problem being a father himself and went out to talk to her, hoping to knock some sense into Hope and have her see behind the act.

The two were alone in the house, standing in awkward silence as the moment of Hope’s departure replayed in their heads. Hank walked around the first floor, fumbling with a small piece of dice he found in the living room as Jason watched from the window the car sitting in the driveway with the two figures talking inside.

He broke the silence with a scoff, biting in the inside of his cheek as he said, “You have to tell her.”

“No.” He muttered in response, knowing exactly what he meant by those words.

“If you want her on your side, you have to break the ice here. She knows Janet didn’t die cause of some accident involving a plane. I know it’s painful for you, Hank, but she deserves to know.”

“Like you told Stark about his parents death.”

That silence Jason quicker than expected. He remembered how Howard and Maria died, when he was at his lowest moments during the holiday season. He told Tony what he knew and what he only could’ve revealed of that painful memory, going as far as to show him the photographs he dug up a few days later from news reports. Hank might’ve had a falling out with Howard but he was at the damn funeral for a short period of time before returning home.

Hank knew he hit a nerve and continued, “You couldn’t even wrap your head around fact that you lost them. Worse, telling a child their mother died and they never had the chance to say goodbye. I lost Janet that day because of my misfortunes during the mission.”

“I know, I heard the story. I can only imagine how you felt when it happened, when she shrunk down to that size..” Jason added trying to find his voice again.

“Please, don’t remind me, Jason, she went sub-atomic...”

“And you tried to get her back by studying for weeks on an answer to get her back”

“I made a mistake letting her come with me..I was stupid enough to let that happen..you know how hard it is for me just to relive that experience again…Hope might hate me when she finds out..”

“I know, she might but she will forgive you…Hank..you and I have made a lot mistakes in the past 3 decades. We made decisions that we aren’t proud of..thinking we are protecting them from harm..”

“That’s the whole point! That’s our job, to keep them safe and not be heartbroken by the truth. You only gave Stark the benefit of the doubt about his parents death and how it affected the outcome, you said he hated the world for it..I can’t tell her..we have secrets for a reason..”

“Yeah well, Tony could care less about his father…How about you only tell her what you can? When the time comes where she asks for more, you go into more detail about what happened. You are driving her away now…I know you hate the looks she gives you. You said it yourself..”

There was an unspoken number of casualties among those accidents that occurred during the death of their loved ones. Only so much information, they kept closed to their chest to prevent others suffering in those moments. The amount of consequences to their loved ones being gone felt like a huge blow to the head and stuffed around in secret.

Hank knew that, especially with the fact that his very friend lost more than he can chew.

He felt sorry for bringing it up, but it just didn’t occur to him the words would impact that hard. Hell, the memories of his wife were still so fresh in his brain like it was yesterday.

Hank ran a couple of fingers cross his hair muttering, “Sorry for bringing that up. It’s just…”

“I know..I know. But you do need to let her know what happened that day.” Jason responded taking a breath to regain himself.

That was when Hope and Scott returned from the car, about to say something but was cut off by Hank’s statement. He had a hand against the fireplace beforehand turning around to face the two of them, to face his daughter with the truthful remarks she desires to know. He slowly but surely explained what he could to his daughter onto what happened to her mother as her voice broke mumbling a few questions.

He did in best to answer them. It hurt to talk about it, as it felt like he was reliving the same day all over again. She wanted to know more but her thoughts didn’t seem to allow her to think straight as she teared up even more. Hank just told her in the end he lost her mother, he didn’t mean to lose his daughter too.

Scott ruined the moment with a quippy response that caused Jason to roll his eyes, telling him to go make some tea. Afterwards the four of them got back to work on training Scott and working with the plans they had in motion.

———-

At some point, Jason went upstairs to get something to eat and suddenly got another set of calls. He sighed deeply knowing they must've been from Liane or Rei, he ignored knowing it was probably something they could've handle themselves. They had to learn how to get along and figure out solutions to things without an actual adult fixing it entirely for them.

With a deep sigh he answered, “Hello?”

“Jason! Aha we might got an issue at the compound—dude shut up!” Said the voice that clearly belonged to Liane.

“Okay, who burnt the toaster again? Wait why are you at The Compound anyway? Your supposed to be at The Tower..”

“The adults went out on a small scale meeting, so we were left alone. Long story short, we had an incident at The Tower and decided to visit The Compound for breakfast instead—Ughhh Rei be quiet! Rick calm it’s gonna be fine—I was saying, we came here and Sam made us breakfast…and then..”

“Then what? Liane spit it out or put Rei on the phone.”

“Then we saw an issue and Sam told us to stay inside.”

Just as Liane and Rei’s voices were heard, along with the other members in the background, Jason was called downstairs by Hank to check on something. And let’s just say, he wanted to punch the older man for his actions. From the panels on the screen, shots of Scott fighting The Falcon to get inside Avengers Compound. Hope half smiled, annoyed and confused by Scott’s actions.

It was honestly hilarious yet stressful.

He put the phone call on mute as he whispered, “Hank, what the hell?! You said that the item you were looking for was at an old building, not Avengers Compound!”

“I didn’t know that it was remodeled after all this time! You could’ve said something.” Hank remarked looking up at the blonde from his seat.

“You weren’t speaking of the specifics either! Oh god..Scott better get out of there.”

“He’ll be fine. Besides he’s fighting an Avenger, this can be taken as part of his training for the next assignment. What are you worried about?”

“Half of the other avengers are inside the building now and they’re a little terrified.”

Hope said an eyebrow confused onto what her uncle meant until she heard the voices over the phone and almost immediately laughed at the sound.

She couldn’t make out the voices very well but one caught her ears as she asked, “Is that Felton? Since when is she freaked out over something like this, isn’t she an Avenger?”

Jason just shrugged at this point and responded, “It’s a great mystery to all of this. And yes that was her. I can already picture Rei’s annoyed expressions. Whatever we do, we just have to get Scott out there and fast.”

“Or they might call the other heroes for assistance. Damn it.”

“Days like this, I wish my retirement plan was completely different.”

“You can always come stay with me instead. Wait, I’m still in the Will right?”

He winked at her meaning a clear ‘yes you are, honey.’ As they both returned their focus back onto the screen watching Hank navigate Scott across the field to fight Falcon, suddenly they lost visual contact with him as the ants couldn’t see what was happening inside. It went silent as the only sound came from the cell phone in Jason’s hand.

He raised the phone up his ear to respond, “Whatever happens stay instead. I’ll be there in a couple of hours to check up on—”

“About time you picked up the damn phone!” Yelled the voice that belonged to his first godson.

“Rei?! What happened to Liane?”

“I took it off her hands, she went to help calm Rick and the others down or whatever. I really don’t care. Do I have permission to take her down Felton and shut off the systems?”

“Permission granted—wait, hold off on shutting down the systems for a few minutes and then reboot The Compound.”

“Does that mean I’m in charge of everything?”

“Does it mean the house won’t be fire when I come over to check on you guys?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then you’re in charge. And please get a hold of an adult!”

The phone called ended with Rei’s voice being heard over the speaker as you can imagine the others not sounding too pleased about the news. Jason just smirked already picturing their faces as he watched the panels of Scott escaping and Falcon on the floor. Him and Hank fist bump at the process of the mission turning out decently well.

He knew Hank was gonna have a talk with Scott on his actions and how he handled it, but Jason knew based on the files that Scott must’ve gotten the item needed for the job.

And he was right.

Hope was very impressed with what he did as her father sighed in relief at the assignment being completed. Scott Lang had skills and knowledge to be used on a battlefield one day, possibly even a hero. The four of them talked about upcoming events that were set in motion as Jason texted his nephew for updates on the situation from earlier as it seemed like things have calmed down over there.

He will need to drive over there to check up on them later.

As of now, all he knew is that the four of them were headed into a very dangerous environment within the incoming hours. Especially after Darren Cross’s appearance at the household, assuming he was just speaking with Hank Pym, as the others were silently standing in the kitchen.

The next couple of hours were gonna be a wild ride.

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That’s what I got! Thanks for reading I hope you liked it. 📺

Let me know what you think in the comments below 👇

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#agent carter oc #marvel oc #marvel cinematic universe #ant man #hank pym #the young avengers #scott lang #marvel fanfiction #marvel blurb #hope van dyne #original male character #mcu fanfiction #mcu fancast #agents of shield #marvel x oc #janet van dyne #glen powell

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heartofglass-mindofstone · 6 months ago

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𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋

Do you dare to check in? 🛎️ The infamous Overlook Hotel, nestled in the isolated Colorado Rockies, has a dark and mysterious history. Known for its eerie atmosphere and paranormal activity, the hotel has attracted visitors looking for a thrilling experience. This weekend, a group of individuals, each with their own reasons, has checked in. As night falls, strange occurrences begin to happen, turning a weekend getaway into a nightmare. ⸻ imagine yourself in the situation and create your character as they are trapped in a horror movie come true. bonus: get your creative juices flowing and write a oneshot. what happened before the picture? where is your character headed now? are they searching for their friends/the people that arrived with them or are they investigating something different entirely? what else is lurking amongst the shadows?

Listen to this banger while reading.

Special guests: @vergeltvng , @ausgetrieben , @thisis-elijah, @trauma-report , @vikasgarden and @verflcht

Tip-toe, through the window, by the window, that is where I’ll be…

Es war ein Freitag. Ein Freitag der Anastasia so gut wie schon lange nicht mehr hat schlafen lassen. Sie hatte einen Auftrag in einer kleinen Stadt, nicht weit weg von hier. Konstantin hatte sie sogar persönlich hierhergefahren, nachdem sie aus Amsterdam zurück in den Staaten war. Im Sommer stapelten sich die Aufträge und Anastasia liebte es. Es machte so viel Sinn. Spaß. Es gab Beschäftigung. Sie tat das, was sie gut konnte, und bekam dafür Lob, Anerkennung und Geld. Nach einem langen Telefonat mit Billy, in welchem sie noch die Brownies gesnackt hatte, die sie aus Amsterdam mitgebracht hatte, fiel sie in einen tiefen Schlaf. Es vergingen Stunden, es sollte eigentlich stockdunkel sein, mitten in der Nacht. Doch irgendwas an diesem Hotel war anders, als an den anderen die sie hier und da für eine Nacht besuchte, um Aufträge zu erledigen. Eine wohlbekannte Melodie holte sie sanft aus dem wohligen Schlaf, sodass die Blondine mit einem Lächeln auf den Lippen wach wurde. Irgendwo aus der Ferne hörte man ‚Tip-Toe Through‘ The Tulips With Me‘ von Tiny Tim durch die Flure hallen, während Ana sich lächelnd aufrichtete und mit der Hand über das weiche Gras fuhr, auf welchem sie zuvor noch lag. Das war der weiche Rasen im Garten von Vika, kurz vor der Hütte in dem sie die niedlichen Kükenbabys kennengelernt hat.

Ihr Kopf war ganz wunderbar in Watte gepackt, da interessierte es sie gar nicht, dass es draußen stürmte. Und sie irgendwo in einem Hotel namens Overlook Hotel war, so zugepumpt, dass es wahrscheinlich andere Menschen schon längst umgelegt hätte. Aber nicht sie! Sie schnappte sich die Whiskeyflasche die auf der Wiese rumstand, zu checken, dass sie auf dem Boden ihres Zimmers wach geworden war anstatt auf einer Blumenwiese, fiel ihr noch nicht so wirklich ein. Der Whisky schmeckte genauso gut wie sie es sich vorgestellt hatte, und da das ganze hier ein Hotel war, gab es sicherlich irgendwo einen Mitternachtssnack abzustauben.

„Come tiptoe through the tulips with meee…“, sang sie gut gelaunt mit als sie durch den dunklen Flur tänzelte, sich drehte, und den Alkohol wie Wasser trank während sie über sich selbst kichern musste. Da hingen lustige Erinnerungen an den Wänden, das Licht flackerte, aber sie konnte genau erkennen, wer auf den Bildern war. Da hing ein Foto von Elijah und ihr, als sie um die 16 Jahre alt war. Als sie sich kennengelernt haben, bei dem Footballspiel an Elijahs Schule. Er der bekannte Footballer, sie der Kopf des Cheerleading Teams an ihrer Schule in New York. Das erste Spiel fand damals in seiner Heimat statt. Das nächste zeigte sie mit Pavel in Paris, kurz nachdem er mit Daria eingezogen war und Anastasia den Anlass nutzte nach Frankreich zu stürmen, um jedes einzelne Gebäck dort zu probieren. Ganz viele Polaroids von Liz und ihr, auf ihren Karaoke Touren, die Kneipenabende und Bilder die so eigentlich nur die beiden Frauen kannten. Was sie irritierte, war ein Bild von Zeev und Anastasia, was er geschossen hatte als sie in einer Bar versunken waren. Im Hintergrund standen zwei kleine Mädchen in blauen Kleidern. Kurz blieb Anastasia davorstehen und betrachtete es eingehender. Bis sie amüsiert lachte. Bei allem was irgendwie Heilig war, sie hatte ihren Kopf irgendwo ins Nirvana geschossen, sodass selbst das ihr noch keinen Grund zum nachdenken gab und sie ihre Jagd nach etwas essbaren fortsetzte.

„Tiptoe by the garden, by the garden of a willow tree! And tiptoe through the tulips with me…“, ihre Stimme hallte richtig in dem Hotel, welches viel zu leer war dafür, dass es eigentlich sehr nett ausgestattet war und die Bilderreihen nahmen gar kein Ende mehr bis sie doch stehen blieb und verärgert das Gesicht verzog. Das waren Fotos und Textnachrichten die garantiert nirgendwo ausgedruckt bei ihr rumflogen und natürlich erkannte sie auch auf den Bildern, bei welchem man die Gesichter nicht sah, um wessen trainierten Rücken es sich handelte und dass es ihr Beine waren, die um diesen geschlungen waren. Das Unwetter nahm weiter zu und ebenso sank ihre Laune als sie die Bilder, die immer privater wurden, von der Hotelwand riss und ihr Hände zückte um Billy anzurufen. Mailbox. War ja klar. Sie müsste sich nochmal über diese bescheuerte App informieren über die MM sie immer anbellte wenn er schlechte Laune hatte. „Was zum Fick fällt dir eigentlich ein, dass du…“ – langsam aber sicher dämmerte es Anastasia, dass hier gerade etwas gewaltig schief ging.

Noch während sie dabei war Billy wüst auf die Mailbox zu schimpfen, drehte sich ihr Magen bei dem Anblick eines Kombatshirts, welches sie nie vergessen konnte. Es waren die Schriftzüge am Arm, die sie stutzig machen. Die Form der Gestalt kannte sie auch und noch bevor Anastasia auflegte, war das letzte was man hören konnte, ein unterdrücktes Schluchzen auf Billys Mailbox, bevor sie auflegte. Sie hatte Angst. Eigentlich niemals, aber jetzt gerade, da kam dieses Gefühl wieder welches sie sich weigerte auszusprechen. Das Handy weggesteckt war es ihre Waffe die sie als nächstes zog, ehe sie die Wand im Rücken zu ihrem Vorteil nutzte und die Luft anhielt. Soweit sie es in Erinnerung hatte, waren die meisten von Ihnen doch tot?

‚Knee-deep in flowers we'll stray, we′ll keep the showers away. And if I kiss you in the garden, in the moonlight, will you pardon me? And tiptoe through the tulips with me?‘

Je näher sie ihrem Ziel kam, desto lauter wurde das Lied, aber es konnte doch gar keine Musik spielen? Das Hotel schien kaum Strom zu haben durch das Unwetter, das Licht war mittlerweile aus und nur die Blitze von draußen erhellten das Foyer welches sie mittlerweile erreicht hatte. Die Gestalt im Kombatshirt drehte sich genau in dem Moment zu ihr um, als hätte er nur darauf gewartet, sie aus den weißen Augen lachend anzustarren als er die Hand hob. Das war der Medic. Der Medic aus Jaschas Team. Der Medic, dem sie vor fast zehn Jahren noch trotzig ihren Zahn ins Gesicht gerotzt hatte in… einer Situation die sie lange schon begraben und vergessen hatte. Angeblich. Bevor ihr ein klares Handeln möglich war, schoss sie auf den Medic. Zielgenau. Makellos. Doch nichts passierte. Seine Füße schienen nicht den Boden zu berühren als er sich gefühlt im Nichts auflöste und das Geräusch eines Fahrstuhls sie zusammen zucken lies. Heilige Scheiße, wie konnte der funktionieren, wenn sonst nichts hier funktionierte? Wasserfontänen schossen aus den Fahrstühlen, welche Gott sei Dank so weit weg waren, dass sie selbst außerhalb der Schusslinie davon war, während sie an die andere Seite des Foyers rannte. Die Melodie in ihrem Kopf. Sie wusste woher sie kam. Es gab nur wenige Male in welchem sie diese Melodie gehört hatte und wenn, waren es ganz schlechte Kombinationen, die sie das Lieblingslied ihrer Grandma aus den späten 60ern hören lies. Wie angewurzelt blieb sie stehen, als Jascha aus dem Aufzug stieg. Dass er triefendnass war, war kein Wunder, aber das nasse Dreieckstuch in seiner Hand war der Auslöser für ihre Panik. Jascha sah gar nicht mal so lebendig aus, aber lebendiger als der Medic, als ihre Blicke sich kreuzten und ihre Lippen einen tonlosen Schrei formten. Jaschas Stimme dafür jagte durch das gesamte Foyer, klar und deutlich, während er sich bewegte, als würde ihn jemand dazu zwingen. Er war wie ferngesteuert, auch er berührte den Boden beim Laufen nicht, aber das Wort was er brüllte war klar und deutlich. „LAUF!“

Und wäre es nicht dieser Horror in dem sie sich befand wäre Jascha der letzte dem sie gerade jetzt Glauben schenken würde, aber was auch immer hier passierte was kein böser Trip. Zumindest nicht den Drogen geschuldet. Es war irgendwas anderes und das war gewaltig verkehrt. Ohne es überhaupt steuern zu können schrie Anastasia ohrenbetäubend auf als Jascha sich in unnatürlichen Schritten ihr näherte, als würde man ihm für jeden Schritt in die Knie treten, und die Veteranin selbst um ihr Leben rannte. Immer wieder versuchte sie jemanden anzurufen. Es waren nur diese beschissenen Mailboxen.

„Pavel? Weißt du noch als ich mit Elijah gestritten haben, dass der Toaster von einem Geist betrieben wird? Weil wir beide nicht da waren? Oder dieser Trend auf TikTok? Ich glaube ich habe ein großes Problem, Jascha geht es nicht zu gut!“, stotterte sie die erste Nachricht zusammen während die Fenster im Hotel zersprangen und das kalte Regenwasser ihr ins Gesicht peitschte. Sie war theoretisch allein, oder? Keiner hörte sie schreien? Oder so.. wie sie sich gerade fühlte?

„Liz, ich weiß das ist komplett bescheuert, aber bist du gerade in der Nähe vom Overlook Hotel? Ich brauche ein Taxi, dringend!“, den Satz beendete Anastasia mit einem entsetzen Schrei, als sie sich selbst im strömenden Regen wiederfand. Nie im Leben wäre sie freiwillig hie raus gegangen, lieber würde sie mit Dämon-Jascha und seinen Kumpels abhängen als im strömenden Regen zu stehen. Ihre Knie wurden weich, sie selbst verfiel in eine Schockstarre, die dazu führte, dass sie sich derart feste auf die Lippen biss, bis es blutete.

Die letzte Nachricht, die von ihr ausging, war nur noch ein Schluchzen und Stottern. An Elijah als auch Billy. Irgendwas davon redend, dass Pavel Recht haben muss und Liz ganz dringend hierher gehen sollte. Und wie kalt ihr war. Es wäre so kalt in diesem Sommerregen. Anastasia wusste nicht, ob sie das Bewusstsein verlor bevor ihr Handyakku leer war oder die komplette Überforderung samt Drogencocktail sie derart aus dem Leben geschossen hatte, dass sie bereits davor zusammengekauert auf die Wiese gesackt war, bis sie wegdämmerte. Doch noch bevor ihr die Lichter für die nächsten Minuten oder Stunden ausgingen, wurde ihr wieder einmal klar, dass sie dieses seltsame Lied nur hörte, wenn sie in einer Panikattacke war oder derart verletzt, dass ihr Körper jetzt wohl ohnehin dachte, es wäre Zeit, den Löffel abzugeben.

‚Knee-deep in flowers we'll stray, we′ll keep the showers away. And if I kiss you in the garden, in the moonlight, will you pardon me? And tiptoe through the tulips with me?‘

Tagged by: @ausgetrieben (I LOVED this one!)

Tagging: @vergeltvng @trauma-report @thisis-elijah @verflcht @ertraeumte @caughtbetweenworlds @vasted and you, you AND you! If you already did this PLEASE link me, I want to read all of it!

#tagged #texts

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kwebtv · 10 months ago

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TV Guide - February 29 - March 6, 1964

Shirl Conway (born Shirley Elizabeth Crosman, June 13, 1916 – May 7, 2007) Television and Broadway actress.

She played the role of Liz Thorpe in the CBS drama The Nurses (which ran from 1962 to 1965) for which she was nominated for an Emmy award in 1963 for Outstanding Continued Performance by an Actress in a Series. Other TV credits include Route 66, The Defenders, and Caesar's Hour. (Wikipedia)

Zina Bianca Bethune (February 17, 1945 – February 12, 2012) Actress, dancer, and choreographer known for playing "Miss Tuttle" on Father Murphy and "Abigail" on General Hospital

As a child performer, Bethune appeared in several American daytime television dramas, including a stint as the first "Robin Lang" on The Guiding Light from May 1956 to April 1958.

In October 1958, she portrayed Amy March in the CBS musical adaptation of Little Women. She portrayed nurse Gail Lucas on The Nurses (1962–65), and appeared in other series, including Kraft Television Theatre (with Martin Huston in the series finale), Route 66, The Judy Garland Show, Pantomime Quiz, Hollywood Squares, Young Dr. Malone, Dr. Kildare, Gunsmoke, The Invaders, and Emergency! (Wikipedia)

#TV Guide #TV #1964 #Shirl Conway #Zina Bethune #The Nurses

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grey-gardens · 2 years ago

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https://www.veranda.com/decorating-ideas/house-tours/a42045998/grey-gardens-home-tour/

Inside Liz Lange's Glamorous Restoration of Grey Gardens

The fashion entrepreneur has restored the East Hampton landmark with bold confidence, singular style, and a little swagger.

STEELE THOMAS MARCOUX PUBLISHED: DEC 15

Liz Lange does not believe in ghosts. In fact, she’s dismissive when asked whether Grey Gardens, the 1901 East Hampton, New York, estate she and her husband recently restored, is haunted. “I didn’t expect to see ghosts because I simply don’t believe in them,” the creative director and chief executive officer of women’s luxury fashion and lifestyle brand Figue says of what it felt like to move in.

Which isn’t to say the past is not present at Grey Gardens. Shortly after purchasing the home in late 2017, the fashion entrepreneur embarked on an extensive restoration of the storied estate, working with architecture firms Ferguson & Shamamian and Bories & Shearron to modernize the operation of the house while preserving much of its original design.

This involved digging a full basement to conceal contemporary mechanical and other functional spaces, shoring up the home’s foundation and structure, protecting original elements like the Dutch front door and foyer banisters during construction for restoration and, when needed, reconstruction, and adding back period-appropriate details like diamond-paned windows and doors with restoration glass—all while leaving the house’s footprint and exterior design nearly unchanged. “Liz and her husband knew that the architectural background they wanted to live in was the one that was built in 1901,” says architect Mark Ferguson, whose firm oversaw the restoration.

Plans for the original house—an L-shaped, shingle-clad structure with dramatic gabled rooflines and brick chimneys, faint echoes of the English Arts and Crafts vernacular that seeded the American Shingle Style—were designed by architect Joseph Greenleaf Thorpe and commissioned by Fleming Stanhope Phillips. But Phillips died before his vision was realized. Instead his wife, Margaret Bagg Phillips, who famously inherited his estate after fending off challenges to the will from Phillips’s brother, built the house later that year.

To summon the spirit of the original house, Lange changed its flow as little as possible. While some minor floor plan reconfigurations were necessary for the house to live at today’s standards—opening the kitchen to a breakfast room, adding a back stairwell—other alterations, like punching out attic dormer windows on the street side, were avoided to retain the integrity of the original building. Says Lange: “One of the reasons it still feels like an old house is that we forced ourselves not to make it perfect perfect. The floors still creak a little bit, and they are not entirely level.”

The thoughtful revival of its gardens is but another invocation of the property’s past. Lange worked with landscape architect Deborah Nevins on a thorough overhaul of the grounds, planting new gardens in some places and restoring historic elements in others, and facilitating as much outdoor living as possible. Most notably Nevins restored the walled garden, pergola, and thatched garden hut, which had been added by prominent horticulturalist and author Anna Gilman Hill, the second owner of Grey Gardens (from 1913 to 1924) and the first to describe it as such. When reflecting on the garden spaces, Lange describes a distinctive magic. “There’s almost a quietness and you feel like you don’t even know where you are. It has this strangely magical, peaceful, beautiful atmosphere.”

Perhaps ironically Lange’s family history in East Hampton—childhood summers and weekends spent in a rigorously modern house by architect Charles Gwathmey—fueled her passion for Grey Gardens in the first place. “I loved it,” she says of her parents’ home, “but it was not lost on me that the other houses on the street were these older houses…often Shingle Style cottages built at the turn of the 20th century with mature properties and older trees. I grew to think that I wanted a house like that when I had my own.”

It was her love of the house, not its provenance, Lange insists, that prompted her to buy when it came up for sale. She and her husband had rented the house for a summer several years prior and had become smitten with its details, proportions, layout, and gardens. “The landscape struck me as familiar,” she says. “The flow of the rooms just made sense, and it has a really cozy feel, and it’s a very bright house. I worried about it feeling dark, maybe in that haunted way although I don’t believe it’s haunted, but it doesn’t. It’s a very sunshine-y, happy house.”

Lange, who hails from a family who experienced very public financial booms and busts (as she chronicles in The Just Enough Family, her podcast with friend and journalist Ariel Levy) and who became a household name at a relatively early stage in her career with the success of her eponymous maternity brand, is the sixth in a string of prominent, artistic, even visionary women to inhabit the house, each casting a reflection of herself within its design. She bought it from author Sally Quinn, who, along with husband and Washington Post executive editor Ben Bradlee, brought the house back from its near-condemned state, restored many period pieces that came with it, and summered there for more than 30 years, hosting legendary parties with star-studded guest lists until Bradlee passed away in 2014.

The Washington power couple had purchased the estate in 1979 from Edith Bouvier Beale. “Little Edie” lived with her mother, Edith “Big Edie” Ewing Bouvier Beale, at Grey Gardens from the early 1950s until the elder Edie’s death, both in increasing isolation and squalor as they ran out of money to maintain the estate. The juxtaposition of their flamboyant personalities with their decaying, animal-infested environment was exposed in the 1975 cult-classic documentary film Grey Gardens—and has been memorialized many times over in other films, books, and even a 2006 Broadway musical.

Today the interiors of Grey Gardens are a far cry from dereliction—or even the gently worn summer cottage aesthetic one might expect to find inside a century-old shingled seaside home. Instead different essences of femininity filter throughout: A dreamy, romantic spirit pervades the bedrooms; the kitchen, breakfast room, and pool and tennis cabana effuse a bohemian, almost exotic élan; and the wild foyer, sultry dining room, and groovy living room radiate an irresistible gusto not all that dissimilar from the 1960s, ’70s, and ’80s style celebrated to enthralling effect on Lange’s Instagram feed.

It’s a singular mirroring of Lange’s persona and the result of her collaboration with designer Mark D. Sikes, artists and artisans from around the world, and close friend and designer Jonathan Adler, who helped her add a layer of glamour to the living spaces on the first floor. “It’s a lot to live up to, such a famous house, so the decorating had to be bold and original,” says Adler. “Liz has always embodied a true idiosyncratic style with swagger. You can see it in the way she lives and in [her creative direction of] Figue,” which has launched a line of tableware under Lange’s lead.

Of course, idiosyncratic style has permeated the house from the beginning. “A lot of Shingle Style is a reinvention of something else. It’s a vehicle for dabbling in eccentricities,” notes architect James Shearron. “How wonderful that Grey Gardens fell into the hands of someone who has the same kind of spirit as its most famous owner.”

Even with a thoroughly reimagined point of view, the house is not entirely exorcised of the Edies’ presence. Lange tasked a handful of artists with interpreting their spirit: In the foyer, a painting of Little Edie in a headscarf by Helen Downing offers a charismatic greeting, while the second-story landing features papier-mâché busts of Big and Little Edie by artist Mark Gagnon; illustrations of the pair by Jason O’Malley float above a guest room headboard. The works represent “a wink or nod to the former owners,” says Lange—or ghosts, perhaps, of her own making.

Featured in our January/February 2023 issue. Interior Design by Jonathan Adler and Mark D. Sikes; Architecture by Bories & Shearron Architecture and Ferguson & Shamamian; Landscape Design by Deborah Nevins; Photography by Pascal Chevallier; Styling by Hilary Robertson; Produced by Cynthia Frank and Brad Comisar; Florals by The Bridgehampton Florist; Written by Steele Thomas Marcoux

#grey gardens #little edie #liz lange #east hampton

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sugdenlovesdingle · 1 year ago

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Zou kunnen ja dat het goed uitpakt, hoop dat de pvv gewoon heel hard of zijn bek gaat en mensen die erop gestemd hebben zich eens heel goed achter de oren gaan krabben. Ik geloof (hoop) niet dat dit lang stand gaat houden, maar ik ben huiverig over de mogelijke schade.

En die Agema is inderdaad een heel eng mens, krijg echt de kriebels van haar. Eww.

Maar we gaan zien hoe dit zich ontwikkeld. We leven in interessante tijden...

Ja ik hoop echt dat ze de boel zo verneuken dat kabinet Wilders 1 ongeveer net zo lang duurt als het premierschap van Liz truss (ongeveer een maand). En dat de pvv stemmers zien dat de alle vluchtelingen het land uit partij niet ineens zoon of dochter lief aan een huis helpt of de boodschappen minder duur maakt.

En ja we leven inderdaad in interessante tijden... Maar iets minder interessant zou ik niet heel vervelend vinden. Ik hoop eigenlijk op hele saaie tijden met een stabiele regering die niet zo racistisch als de pest is. Een droomwereld zonder pvv en vvd - of Thierry en z'n nazis. Dat zou mooi zijn.

#Anonymous #dutch politics #dutchblr #The Netherlands

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darkmaga-returns · 2 months ago

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If you want a comparison of the socialist/Marxist/Cult of Moloch that infests the Democratic Part and a free American people, consider the case of Jake Lang.

Compare that to “no bail” policies, decriminalising theft below a thousand bucks and the tens of millions of migrant beggars entering the US via Mexico and Canada.

He has been held without trial for the 1,388 days since J6, charged with:

1. Assaulting an officer (federal charge) 2. Civil disorder (federal charge) 3. Obstruction of an official proceeding (initially charged, but later dismissed by a federal judge)

Jake Lang was assaulted, stripped naked and thrown into permanent solitary confinement for, somehow, taking this video of reading the bible - and then issuing this tweet:

(17) Jake Lang - January 6 Political Prisoner 🇺🇸 on X: "Last night at 10:30 pm while we were LIVE on our J6 Patriot Panel, My cell was RAIDED & I was tackled & arm twisted violently against the wall by the Brooklyn Federal Prison Correction Officers!!! They treated me like an animal & called me a Domestic Terrorist!! I was stripped https://t.co/vdOE3VEkWq" / X

Presumably, even J6 prisoners have access to cell phones? No pun intended.

There are thousands of hours of video footage for the J6 “riots”. Those have shown that on one side of the Capitol building, people were invited in by Capitol police, whilst on the other side, there are those that claim that the FBI had operatives embedded in the “crowd” and coordinated Antifa foot soldiers to use and incite violence to break in on the other side of the Capitol.

Turncoat Liz Cheney is accused of witness tampering to coach a witness to lie about what went on – the kangaroo court set up by the Democratic Party is as clear a farcical abuse of power as can be. Maybe Schiff should be held without trial for claiming TWO “prime residences” to fraudulently obtain lower interest rates and tax breaks!

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antvnger · 6 days ago

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Greetings, Scott, just passing by before leaving! This winter will chill me to the bone haha I hope you have a wonderful Christmas! ✨✨

— Liz Heze

Thank you, my sweet friend! I hope you warm up soon, and I hope you have a wonderful Christmas too!

#ask scott lang #scott lang #ant-man #liz heze #hey you #I’ve missed you #merry christmas #christmas2024

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sparrowhawk-station · 6 months ago

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Let Our Songs Echo! Happy Lucky Musical！

T1 - 16,669,420 (matching with snip’s To Those Who Will Depart T1; 69,666,420)

Still to much embarrassment, I have not gotten any better at writing thank you letters, but I can only hope to convey at least a fraction of my gratitude 🙏🦐

Thank you to everyone in the server for hanging out and chatting; thank you to everyone who congratulated me after the event was over even if we had not spoken much before previously; and thank you to my irl friends and my brother, who will be relieved to know that I’m finally retired for real this time 🦐🎉

The lead up to this event was incredibly difficult, I wasn’t sure if I would or could go for it. So many things compounded and I had decided that I would have to give up. Despite this and through it all, snips supported me and gave me encouragement. Without snips, I would not have been able to achieve T1, so thank you so much snips 🙏🦐 I will work hard on MisaRimi content to express at least a fraction of my gratitude 🦐🤝🦐

A very special thank you to YakultBottle who brought me coffee halfway through the event and for the timeless tradition of burning photos of your ex during the tail end of the event. I might have been tiering but you’re my best friend and you’re more important lol 🦾🦐 Thank you to my brother who took care of me, got me Hagumi, and did my D4DJ dailies. I’ll get you crepes whenever you want 🦐🤝🦐

Shout out to Kei, Kimi, Liz, Zyn, and Cinna for tiering streams and chats 💛🦐

Congratulations to Zoy, Lang, and Moss; I’m sorry that Lang, Moss, and Gia couldn’t get T10 in the end, but I’m glad we prepared and tiered together 🙏🦐

Last but not least, thank you to a certain person who threatened to snipe T1 because I wasn’t getting enough sleep, I will get you in Minecraft for that 🔥🔥🔥

Stealth thank you and congratulations to Hyacinth on T2, please enjoy fruit snacks :]

#bandori tiering #Bandori #thank you letter #can thank snips for the shrimp lore too btw it started as a shrimp fried this rice joke #Aside from this event being HaguKao it’s important to be for being the event where HHW finally make a musical together #I’ve wanted a HHW musical event since joining the game 3 years ago (that long ..?) ; it was something I’ve always wanted to make #alas I’m not a consistent or creative person #still I’m so glad for this event

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unscharf-an-den-raendern · 1 year ago

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könnte doch auch sein dass es wieder so ein love trio-Drama gibt,Marlon verliebt sich in Nesrin und Annika sich in Marlon.Ob die Freundschaft dann noch lange hält?? werden wir sehen.

Oh ja, endlich wieder so Drama wie damals als Adrian und Tobias sich um Liz gezofft haben!

#schloss einstein

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mariacallous · 7 months ago

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In January, Taipei-based food writer Liz Kao thought she had scored a coveted invitation to the inauguration banquet for Taiwan’s president-elect, Lai Ching-te, on May 20. She was flattered when one of the organizers asked if she wanted to attend. But when she hopped on a clarifying call with him in March, she realized there was more to it.

“He told me I was going to make the menu. I was shocked,” Kao said.

Suddenly, Kao, a lawyer-turned-food influencer, found herself in charge of designing a state banquet for more than 1,000 guests. She put together a task team composed of veteran food writer Jewel Tsai—“who is very experienced in sourcing ingredients,” Kao said—and two critically acclaimed Taipei chefs: Wes Kuo of Embers, who has an encyclopedic “knowledge of herbs and plants in Taiwan,” and Tsai Jui-lang of Mountain and Sea House, who specializes in traditional 20th-century banquet fare. “He has the technique,” Kao said.

In less than 36 hours, the group had sketched out a preliminary eight-course meal. Their strategy was to concoct dishes and flavor profiles that would represent Taiwan’s five main ethnic subgroups: Indigenous, Hoklo, Hakka, Chinese mainlanders, and Southeast Asians. “We wanted to tell the story of Taiwan’s multiculturalism and democracy,” Jewel Tsai said.

This story is central to Lai’s platform. His Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) is the first political party in Taiwan’s history to secure three consecutive terms, and Lai has styled himself as an extension of his predecessor, Tsai Ing-wen, who maintains that Taiwan is already a sovereign, independent country and does not need to declare independence. The party asserts the island’s autonomy in part by embracing its vibrant mix of cultural identities, and this year’s banquet menu is an expansion of that ethos.

At first glance, Taiwan may not look like a very diverse society, since 95 percent of its inhabitants are ethnically Han Chinese. But that’s a huge and broad term for a multitude of peoples. In addition to its Indigenous residents, who make up about 2 percent of the island’s population, Taiwan has a 400-year history of immigration, and each wave has brought new food customs, condiments, and dishes to the island.

Seventy percent of residents have Hoklo ancestry, descending from the initial wave of migrants from China’s Fujian province who started settling on the island’s west coast in the 17th century. Hakka, a migratory group from southern China, also arrived during this period and comprise about 15 percent of the population.

Another 10 to 15 percent is represented by Chinese mainlanders, who fled with the Republic of China’s government to Taiwan during the Chinese Civil War in the mid-20th century. Southeast Asians, the most recent immigrant group, began arriving in large numbers in the 1990s and now account for 2 percent of Taiwan’s population.

“Taiwanese cuisine is the combination of all these groups of people. It’s a sum of all the cultures,” Kao said.

As Kao’s team prepared the menu, they narrowed in on ingredients unique to each of these cultures. For the first course, for example, they opted for an array of seasonal vegetables, including Makino bamboo, chayote squash shoots, and lily bulbs, plated over a streak of sauces that represent Taiwan’s ethnic subgroups: te’nas, an Indigenous chili saltwater dip; Dongquan chili sauce, a Hoklo-style hot sauce; a sweet Hakka kumquat jam; fermented tofu paste, brought over by Chinese mainlanders; and satay sauce, a nod to Southeast Asian immigrants.

Eaten together, these starkly different sauces create a bright, savory blend that ties the dish together. “Ingredients are a vehicle to represent democracy,” said Kuo, who curated the sauces for this dish.

State banquets in Taiwan have long been a soft-power tool for the island’s leaders. When the Republic of China government, led by Chiang Kai-shek, fled to Taiwan in 1949 during the Chinese Civil War, Chiang wanted to project it as the sole legitimate ruler of China. For his inauguration banquet, his staff therefore served haute regional Chinese dishes such as Sichuan smoked duck, Cantonese barbecue pork, and Shanghai-style fried prawns.

Over the next few decades, state dinners followed a similar script. In 1965, Yen Chia-kan, who would later become Chiang’s successor, hosted a dinner for foreign press corps featuring braised shark’s fin, Beijing duck, and northern Chinese knife-shaved noodles. The recent wave of mainland Chinese immigrants made up less than one-sixth of the population, but they had already become Taiwan’s ruling elite. The cuisines of the rest of the populace—Hoklo, Hakka, and Indigenous—did not appear on official menus.

Taiwan transitioned from a dictatorship to a democracy in the 1980s, with the old ruling party, the Kuomintang (KMT), or Nationalists, becoming one player in a multiparty system. But state menus didn’t change significantly until 2000, when Taiwan-born Chen Shui-bian became the first elected leader from the DPP. Unlike the KMT, the DPP had less of a cultural affinity with the Chinese mainland. Chen’s banquet included local delicacies that predated the Nationalist government’s arrival in Taiwan and elevated what had previously been considered working-class fare, such as meatball soup made with local milkfish and steamed savory rice pudding.

Since then, Taiwan’s inauguration banquets have become increasingly egalitarian and specific to the island, reflecting a growing number of people identifying as Taiwanese over their ethnic subgroups. That assertion has upset the Chinese government, which claims Taiwan as part of its territory.

The inauguration banquet of the KMT’s Ma Ying-jeou in 2008 took a farm-to-table approach that showcased the island’s food production; the menu listed the sources of many of the ingredients, including chicken from Guanmiao, a southern Taiwanese farming district, and squash from the east coast city of Taitung.

Indigenous ingredients weren’t represented for the first time until the inauguration meal of Tsai, the outgoing president. Her menu in 2016 featured pork chops dusted with maqaw, a native Taiwanese spice akin to lemon pepper. It also included Hakka-style rice noodles topped with shiitakes, which, according to the menu, were harvested by a farmer named Tian Chin-feng in northern Taiwan. Tsai has ancestry from both groups.

Lai’s banquet builds on that legacy by being more inclusive than ever. “Past menus have not acknowledged the new immigrants,” said Jewel Tsai, referring to the Southeast Asian population in Taiwan. Eighty percent of all foreign residents are migrant laborers, hailing mostly from Indonesia, the Philippines, Thailand, and Vietnam. “They’re an important part of Taiwan. They have small restaurants all over,” she said. “I believe that in the next five to 10 years, their food will be integrated into Taiwanese cuisine at large.”

On a Friday afternoon a few weeks before the inauguration, I met Kao’s team at the Formosa Yacht Resort in the southern city of Tainan, the venue for the banquet. Unbeknownst to patrons enjoying the breakfast buffet, the team was huddled in a private room nearby for a tasting of the presidential dinner. They had finalized the menu, but the hotel chefs were in charge of executing the vision. It was the last rehearsal before the big event, and nerves were high.

Chefs Kuo, Tsai, and their associates sat together, jotting down tasting notes and feedback on plating and tableware choices for the in-house staff. In the next room, a local vlogger was interviewing Kao. Meanwhile, Jewel Tsai patiently explained each dish to me as they arrived.

The hors d’oeuvres platter featured a drunken chicken medallion marinated in Shaoxing wine, which represented mainlanders’ cuisine, alongside a taro, sweet potato, and kumquat spring roll—a personal favorite of Lai, who has Hoklo roots—from a vendor in the president-elect’s hometown of Wanli. It also included a Hakka rice dumpling flavored with mugwort, an Indigenous millet wrap stuffed with pork, and a singular shrimp coated in a bright Southeast Asian-style sweet chili sauce.

Most of the other courses weren’t as literal but still drew from the theme. A filleted seabream from a local aquaculture farm sat on a salted white puree flavored with bright green drops of oil made from cicong, an Indigenous prickly ash, which lent it a peppery, yuzu-like tang. A chicken soup with aged turnip and a parcel of pickled mustard greens paid homage to the fermentation techniques of the Hakka. A 1930s-inspired sweet and sour pork adorned with preserved plums and green mangoes recalled Hoklo fine dining when Taiwan was under Japanese colonial rule. There was thinly sliced goose with turnip and tofu braised in two types of sauces: one to represent Chinese mainlanders of Teochew descent (“It has more spices,” Jewel Tsai said) and another in the style of the Hoklo (“More simple,” she said).

While the dishes were steeped in symbolism, none of the flavors were overwhelmingly spicy or bold. The fish had been deboned. Most courses could be enjoyed with a fork and knife. It was an elegant progression of courses fit for a crowd of political leaders, important campaign donors, and foreign dignitaries from around the world.

Then the unexpected happened. As the seventh course arrived, the room suddenly erupted in cheers. “Bubble tea!” Kuo exclaimed. Servers carried in shrimp rice and the iconic Taiwanese beverage, sourced directly from two popular eateries in Tainan. It was essentially takeout on a plate—a jolting deviation from the intricately composed dishes that preceded it. The bubble tea, which came with fat black straws, looked almost cartoonish.

A special request from the president-elect, the course was rumored by the team to be a nod to Chinese President Xi Jinping. In a television interview last summer, Lai said that if he ever had the opportunity to dine with Xi in Taiwan, he’d order shrimp rice and a cup of bubble tea. For dessert, we finished off with a fruit popsicle dipped in a citrus-forward marmalade, surrounded by mango, pineapple, melon, and wax apple—all sourced from Taiwanese farmers.

After the tasting, I asked Lee Hou-ching, the secretary-general of the nongovernmental organization in charge of planning the banquet, about the official reason for the seventh course. He demurred. “Tainan is known as a food city,” he said. “Lai wanted to represent Tainan with a dish appropriate for a banquet.”

Food is subject to interpretation, but that’s partly what makes it such an effective yet subtle tool of soft power. The inauguration banquet is a way for Taiwan’s new leadership to set the tone for how it wants the world to perceive the island. “We want the world to know Taiwan’s identity,” Kao said. “We represent democracy, freedom, and diversity.”

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