#two art posts???? two days in a row??? unheard of....

[moonstruckhaze]

hello cassunzel nation.... is anyone here...

[the-headless-horsedude]

the one picture/meme, you know the one

[mandos-mind-trick]

See You In My Sleep

Summary: After months of silence, your soulmate reappears in your dream space desperate for help. You're desperate to save him, but you're just a bakery owner from Coruscant.

Pairing: Howzer x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, soulmate AU, PTSD, nightmares, fluff, angst.

A/N: Man, I've been rather long winded with my fics lately. This one has taken the cake (lol) for the longest soulmate fic to date. I'm terrified of posting this once as I've never written for Howzer before, but I hope I did him justice.

MASTERLIST

It’s been months. 

You haven’t spoken to your soulmate in months. 

It wasn’t that unusual for you to go periods of time without speaking to him, but those only lasted days, at the most a couple weeks. Months, though? That was unheard of. 

It makes you worry. 

You know things have been happening, things that aren’t quite right. The sudden change from the Republic to the Empire with the end of the war was enough to have anyone paying attention raising an eyebrow. With your soulmate’s direct involvement, it only has you questioning things more. 

You know things, things most people don’t, about the Empire and its agenda. You’ve heard things that have been happening, things your soulmate has taken part in. Things he’d been questioning lately. 

You hope he’s alright. 

You share a dream space with your soulmate. When you’re both asleep at the same time, you can slip into a shared dream that allows you to see and speak with each other. Sometimes you can even share images with each other. Places, things, events. 

You can tell when it’s going to happen. Instead of drifting off like normal, it feels almost like you’re leaving your body, ascending into some higher plane. The world goes white for a moment before you’re there, standing together. You can’t touch, but you can get close enough to see the details of each other’s faces. 

The first time it happened, it took you by surprise. You hadn’t understood it at first, and most of what you saw were blurry, indistinguishable shapes around you. It had felt very cold and uninviting, even despite the fact you couldn’t make out what you were seeing. 

You always felt well rested upon waking, despite not feeling like you had slept at all. 

You had brushed it off as exhaustion, stress, some strange vivid dream. You had tried not to think about it too much, until it happened a second time. 

Once again, it had all been blurry shapes moving around in that cold, sterile place. You had entertained insanity for a moment upon waking, but you didn’t feel crazy. You felt well rested and almost comforted by the strange experience. 

It didn’t happen every night. You sometimes went a week or two without the strange floating and white place. As time went on, the images began to shift. They became a bit clearer, though you still couldn't understand what you were seeing. There was nothing indicative of a place or people or anything that looked familiar to you. It was more like looking into an abstract piece of art. 

As the years passed, things became a bit clearer. Images became things you could recognize, though you didn’t always understand what they meant. 

It was a couple years before the war started that you met him for the first time. 

He seemed equally confused by his appearance in your dream. It didn't feel quite right. He seemed too aware for a dream, too real. He was young, just barely having reached adulthood, you would later figure out. He had told you he was a clone and was training for war. 

You thought it ridiculous. The galaxy wasn’t at war. You knew galactic relations were getting to be tense. Living on Coruscant gave you a front row seat to the drama of the Senate. But to think it would come to war...that was far fetched. 

It was only after a handful of interactions with Howzer that you figured out what was going on. You had done a bit of research on your strange dreams and had come to the conclusion it was your soulmate link, and Howzer was your soulmate. 

When you told him during your next meeting, he had been upset. He told you about their rules regarding soulmates, but that most of them didn’t agree with it. He didn’t want to reject you, but he had to be careful. Thankfully, your shared dream space was easy to hide. 

He grew quickly, a product of his enhancements as a clone. He spoke a lot about his training, about his fellow clones. The idea made you uneasy, especially with war nowhere in sight at least that you could tell, but there wasn’t much you could do. Even if you knew where he was, going to see him was not an option. 

You weren’t supposed to know about his existence. 

Not that you were going to tell anyone. You had no one to tell. 

You’re just a humble bakery owner who lived among the trillions on Coruscant. 

He liked to talk about you, about your life on Coruscant. He liked to hear about the outside world, about the goings on of everyday people. It made you a bit sad, that his entire life had been created for one purpose, for a war that might never come. 

The war does come. 

Your visits with Howzer become rarer as he ships out. You still manage to see each other, but you can tell as the war progresses how much it begins to weigh on him. You can see the dark circles, the exhaustion in his face as he joins you in your shared dream space. He talks a lot about the battles and losing men, his own brothers. You give him the space to unload it all, your own tears falling as you listen to the pain in his voice, sharing his sadness. 

He has his own close calls. You’re there for the formation of every scar, every blemish. You worry about him, relishing every second you have with him. 

He likes to hear about your life, which remained relatively unchanged, even with the war. If anything changed, it was the influx of customers at your bakery. You saw plenty of senate aides, and even the occasional Coruscant Guard. 

When the war ends, you don’t hear from him for a couple weeks. You’re not surprised, given how rapidly everything seems to change. You only get him back for a few weeks, though, before he disappears. 

You often played over that last dream in your head as you waited and waited for his reappearance. You’ve tried everything you can think of to reconnect, even taking time off from your bakery to spend as much time as possible asleep in hopes you catch him, even for a moment. 

Yet he remains absent. 

So you continued on, pouring your worry into your work. You try not to think about it, but you can’t help it. You’ve begun to feel the yearning, the need to see him, hear him once more. Even if it’s just to make sure he’s alright. You want to see those deep, soulful eyes just one more time. 

Even if the next dream that comes is a rejection. 

***

It finally happens one night, when you’re least expecting it. 

You were dozing off while watching a holofilm. You had an early morning, yet you were up late trying to relax. You were beginning to get anxious, itching under your skin in your need for Howzer. 

It happens suddenly, your body floating before you’re surrounded by a familiar white glow. You nearly cry as you find yourself standing before him. 

“Howzer.” You breathe his name in relief, a weight being lifted from your shoulders almost instantly. 

He says your name, a tear sliding down your cheek. How you want to touch him, feel him, ensure he’s really here. You know though, deep in your bones. It’s really him. He’s really here. 

He looks tired. There’s dark circles around his eyes, and his face seems thinner than normal. 

“Howzer,” You breathe, staring at him with teary eyes. “What happened?” 

“I don’t have a lot of time.” He says, and you can see the desperation on his face. “I was arrested by the Empire with some of my men. I’m not sure where we are, but there’s other clones here. Some of them have disappeared. Others are being moved.” He looks guilty. “I had to close off the connection to protect you. If they found out...you would have been in danger.” 

You nod, a lump forming in your throat for a different reason. The relief you had felt is slowly ebbing away, replaced by anxiety. By fear. “Have you been able to see anything at all? Maybe...maybe I can try and find it. Or find someone that can help.” 

He closes his eyes, the white space around you shifting, showing you a few images of things he had seen. It’s not much to go off of, but it’s something.

“Be careful.” He says. “Don’t try anything stupid.” 

“What, like trying to invade an Imperial fortress with nothing but a whisk?” You crack the joke, but it lacks the normal light tone you would have used. 

You can see the softening of his gaze, but his face doesn’t move. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to do this again.” If he’ll be able to do it again. 

The reality of his situation is hitting you hard. He’s at the mercy of the Empire now. He has been for months. He’d cut off his contact with you to try and protect you, even though you know how badly you’ve both been suffering. 

“Soon.” You say, determined. “I’m going to do everything I can to find you.” 

He lifts his hand, almost like he wants to touch you, but he can’t. “Be careful.” 

You want to say it back, but the dream fades before you can.

You wake alone on the couch, the image of his eyes painted at the front of your mind. 

***

Your hands shake as you try to frost the cake in front of you. The shop will be opening in less than an hour, and you were behind on orders already. You can hardly focus, the dream with Howzer still fresh in your mind. He’s in trouble, he’s been in trouble this whole time. The fearful thoughts you had tried to suppress are coming back full force, threatening to spill over. 

You put down your piping bag, taking a deep breath. You need to work. Going home will only make things worse. You’ll have nothing to do there but sit and worry all day. At least this will be a distraction. 

You spot movement at the door, your one employee, Mina, arriving for her shift. You’ve known Mina since you were kids and would trust her with your life. You let her in, rubbing your eyes. 

“You look like a bantha ran you over.” She says, dropping her things behind the counter. 

You crack a small smile, but you’re certain it looks more like a grimace. “Just stressed.” 

“Busy day?” She asks, pulling her apron on. 

“Already behind.” You answer. 

She stares at you for a few moments as you wash your hands. You try to ignore her as you grab the piping bag once more. “Well, whatever it is, you worry about the cakes. I’ll handle the customers.” 

She goes about setting up the lobby, allowing you the chance to try and get caught up with your cake orders. It was like half the people on Coruscant were all celebrating something today. 

Mina turns on the holoTV, the end of a news broadcast popping up. The anchor’s going on about Senator Chuchi and her bold fight for clone rights despite having the majority of the Senate against her. The broadcast is saying less than favorable things about her, but you ignore it. Ever since the Empire took over, the news had become almost unbearable. Between fluff pieces and outright slander, it had become more of a coverup for things they didn’t want citizens finding out than actual news. 

You pause for a moment, something flashing through your mind. 

Senator Chuchi was very outspoken in her support of the clones. You have a clone that desperately needs help. If you could get Senator Chuchi to help, maybe you could find Howzer. But how would you get her to help? You couldn’t just walk into the Senate building and ask to see her. You’d have to give your reasoning for being there and that would put you on the Empire’s radar, or worse, get you arrested too. 

Not to mention, you have no proof except your own words. You had tried to search for anything that might look like what Howzer showed you, but you had turned up empty handed. That was partially why you were behind this morning. 

But, a Senator would have more resources to investigate. Access to information it seemed the Empire didn’t want citizens to have. 

You turn to look at Mina, setting down the piping bag once more. “Mina? Your sister still works as an aide, right?” 

Mina pauses where she had been setting up chairs, looking at you. “Yeah, why?” 

“I-I need some help.” You say. 

Mina didn’t know much of anything about your soulmate. It wasn’t so much that you didn’t trust her, but more that you weren’t sure how to approach the subject. Mina had met her soulmate not long after you both graduated school. She was a sweet Twi’lek who worked as an event planner. You’ve collaborated several times before in the past. Mina would understand your desperation, maybe enough to convince her sister to help you. 

You take a deep breath. “I need to speak with Senator Chuchi. It’s about a group of clones.” 

Mina frowns. “What are you doing getting involved with clones?” 

You should tell her. If you can get Howzer help, if he gets rescued, you’d like to bring him here. You’d like to have him in your life. She’s going to see him eventually. She’ll have to know eventually. 

You step out from behind the counter, pulling her back into the kitchen. You stand close to her, speaking quietly. It was unlikely anyone would overhear you with the door still locked, but you couldn’t be too careful. Not in this situation. 

“I need you to promise you won’t breathe a word of what I’m about to tell you to anyone. Even your sister.” You say. 

She stares into your eyes for a moment before she nods. “I promise.” 

“I’m trusting you with this. If any of this gets out, it will take down both of us.” 

She gulps, but nods. You take a deep breath, planning out what and how you’re going to tell her this. 

“My soulmate is a clone,” You begin, her eyes widening at your words. “We share a dream connection. I didn’t hear from him for months, but last night he contacted me. He was arrested a few months ago by the Empire. I think he’s in trouble. I have to help him, but I don’t even know where he is.” 

Mina stares at you in silence for a few moments, processing your words. It’s a lot, not to mention it’s dangerous what you’re saying. Howzer would be in deeper trouble if the wrong person found out about your connection, not to mention you would be in a lot of trouble. 

You don’t want to be on the Empire’s radar. 

“You think Senator Chuchi might be able to help?” Mina asks. 

“I have to try.” You say. “I have to do everything I can.” 

Mina’s silent for a few more moments before she sighs. “I can ask Shera when she comes in to meet with us later when she has time.” 

Tears fill your eyes as you nod. “Thank you, Mina.” 

She nods. “Just...if you get caught, pretend you don’t know me.” 

You laugh. “Of course. You’re just my employee after all.” 

***

“I had to pull a lot of strings, but she agreed to see you.” Shera says as soon as she steps through the door. 

Shera was an aide for Senator Organa of Alderaan. She was one of your regulars, and not just because her sister was your single employee. You liked to think she was the reason you got so many Senate aides in your shop in the morning. 

When you spoke to her, you hadn’t given much detail aside from needing to speak to Senator Chuchi about something relating to clones, and with a promise of free pastries and cakes from your bakery for life, she had agreed. 

You breathe a sigh of relief at her words. You’ve got a long way to go, but at least this was a foot in the door. A chance to try and help Howzer. “Thank you. I’m forever indebted to you.” 

She smirks. “You’re just lucky I like you. And your cakes are so damn good.” 

“I meant it.” You say, pushing a box across the counter. “For life.” 

“I will be taking you up on that.” She says, taking the box. “Tomorrow, after you close. She’ll send someone to pick you up.” 

You let out a long breath. It’s really happening. “Thank you.” 

Shera opens the box, pulling out a pastry and taking a bite. She waves her hand, mumbling with her mouth full as she turns, making her way to the door. 

You just have to make it to tomorrow. 

***

“Wait here.” 

You shift nervously on your feet, half expecting the Coruscant Guard to suddenly appear and arrest you for conspiracy or treason or something. Your hand brushes your pocket where the datastick is safely sitting, making sure it’s still there and hasn’t disappeared into thin air. 

You wait anxiously, trying not to look nervous or suspicious. You are nervous. You’ve never spoken to a Senator before, much less about something so sensitive. You don’t have concrete evidence, only Howzer’s word and your meager research. Despite how outspoken you know she is about clones and their rights, she has no reason to believe you. 

You wouldn’t blame her if she turned you away. 

You had tried not to stare at the clone that had picked you up. Despite his disguise, you know he’s a clone. You’d know that face, those eyes anywhere. 

You miss Howzer. 

Even though you have yet to meet in person, you miss his face and his voice and his presence. You’re worried for him. You know he’s not dead, you would have felt it if he was, but there could be any number of unimaginable things happening to him right now. Your hand brushes your pocket once more, making sure the datastick is still there, that it hasn’t disappeared into thin air. 

Footsteps approach, making your heart flutter. You’re sure you look like the nervous wreck you feel. You take a steadying breath as she appears, flanked by two other clones. She greets you by name, surprising you. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Senator Chuchi.” You say. “Thank you for seeing me.” 

“Of course.” She gives you a small smile. “Shera said you may have some information on clones in need of help.” 

You nod, shifting nervously on your feet. You had practiced what you were going to say over and over all day. “My soulmate is a clone and we share a dream space.” You start, telling her the truth in hopes it will help you. “He suddenly stopped contacting me a few months ago and then out of the blue a couple days ago he reappeared. He said he’d been arrested by the Empire and taken prisoner. He wouldn’t go into much detail, but he seemed worried. He said wherever he’s being held, there’s other clones there too. He was able to give me glimpses and I tried to do some research, but every time I tried to dig deeper, the holonet wouldn’t let me.” 

Senator Chuchi nods. “The Empire is locking down parts of the holonet. They don’t want civilians accidentally stumbling across something that might give them ideas.” 

You frown. All those feelings you’ve been having about the Empire seem to only become more and more validated at every turn. You reach into your pocket, pulling out the datastick. “I managed to narrow it down to a few places. I couldn’t do much else.” 

She takes the datastick. “I know someone who might be able to figure out where they are. We’ll do everything we can to rescue them.” 

“Thank you.” You say, tears springing to your eyes once more. You had been expecting the worst, and now there’s a glimmer of a chance that Howzer might be found and rescued. 

“If they find something, you’ll be the first to know.” She says, giving you a reassuring smile. 

You trust her, even though you know next to nothing about her. She could be lying, but the genuine look on her face, and how bravely she fought for clone rights in a Senate that had been against her tells you otherwise. 

All you can do is hope your research is enough, and they can find Howzer and the others before something bad happens. 

***

A few days pass in tense anticipation. There's still no word from Howzer, and no word from Senator Chuchi either. You know it has to take time, but you want to know faster. Have they been able to find them? Was your research enough? Had you been completely wrong and they had to start from scratch? 

You keep yourself busy at the bakery as you had been doing for the last few months. You've waited years for this, for the chance to meet Howzer. You can wait a few days if it means they have a better chance of finding them safely. 

You just hope it's not too late. 

You were closing up shop, planning to spend your evening worrying and sleeping as you had been doing lately in hopes of hearing from someone, when Senator Chuchi arrived in person at your shop. It was a rare occasion you got an actual Senator in your shop. 

"Senator Chuchi," You greet her from behind the counter where you had been boxing up leftover pastries to set out in front of your shop for those from below who roamed the upper levels in search of food or handouts. "How can I help you?"

She approaches the counter, a small smile on her face. "I have good news. They've found him."

You stare at her in shock for a moment, your brain trying to process what you had just heard. You've been waiting days for this, your mind thinking up every situation, every way this could happen. "What?" You ask in disbelief, your brain short-circuiting.

"They're on their way back here as we speak." She says. "Tomorrow when you close, I will have someone meet you to pick you up." 

You nod slowly, your brain trying to catch up. "They found him." You say it, almost like you're trying to convince yourself it's real. 

She smiles, nodding. "He's on his way here now."

Nerves begin to bubble in your stomach. Though you've spent years speaking to him, seeing him, you're nervous at the prospect of finally getting to see him in person. You know what he looks like, what he sounds like, what his personality is like. Yet, you've never met in person. You've never been able to touch him, to smell him, to really be with him. 

Your heart is pounding with nerves and excitement as you see Senator Chuchi out, locking the door behind you. In a matter of hours you'll be going to see Howzer. You never thought this day would come. You never thought it would actually be real.

***

The hours pass by slowly. Despite the busy hours at the bakery, time seems to move in slow motion as you wait for the end of your day. As you wait for the time to come. As you wait for Howzer's arrival. You've been lost in thought all day, fighting nerves and insecurities. 

It was ridiculous to think Howzer wouldn't like you. You've seen him, and he's seen you. If he didn't like you, he wouldn't have bothered spending hours upon hours getting to know you, baring his soul to you. If he didn't like you, he would have rejected you like he was supposed to. 

You're a little afraid because you know Howzer is different now. You could see the difference in him after months of whatever had happened to him. You’d support him as best you could, even if you couldn’t completely understand. 

You’re just worried he might get into his own head. 

You’d take him no matter what, simply because it means you’ll finally get to have him with you. 

If he wants to. 

You try not to think about it. You try not to let your insecurities get in your way as you wait patiently for your escort. 

When they finally arrive you feel like your heart may jump right out of your throat. It’s a different clone than the one that had taken you to meet Senator Chuchi the first time. You’re too nervous to speak on the trip to the location, thinking up how this scenario could play out over and over in your head. What are you going to say? 

You should have thought of this beforehand. 

Your stomach lurches as you land. You stare at the open door of the garage, at the light shining out from inside. Howzer’s in there. He’s in there, and he’s waiting for you. Your hands are shaking, and you’re not entirely sure you’re going to be able to stand. 

You have nothing to be afraid of. It’s so irrational, yet you can’t make yourself move. You know you should. You have to. The poor clone that drove you here won’t wait forever. 

You’re so close. So close. He’s right there. 

“You alright?” The clone that had escorted you asks. 

You turn to look at him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Nervous.” 

He nods. “I would be too. So I can confidently say, he’s probably just as nervous.” He gives you a small smile. “He didn’t come all this way for nothing.” 

He’s right. You’re a bit silly being so nervous. “What’s your name?” You ask. 

“Nitro, ma’am.” He says, nodding at you. 

“Thank you, Nitro.” 

You take a breath before pulling yourself out of the speeder. You steady yourself, trying desperately to push down the butterflies as you make your way into the garage. 

Tears spring to your eyes as they spot him. He has his back to you, but you can tell right away. You just know it’s him. Gone are the words you had thought up, the practiced speech you’d thought up on the way over of what you would say, how you would approach him. 

“Howzer?” Your voice shakes as you say his name. 

His back straightens, body turning slowly to face you. Tears threaten to blur your vision as you see him, just as he looked in your dreams. His brow furrows for a moment as he stares at you before his brows lift in surprise and disbelief. He whispers your name, almost like he’s afraid you might disappear if he speaks it too loudly. 

You’re suddenly moving, feet carrying you and before you realize it, you’re standing right in front of him. You stare at his face, every detail, every line that you had spent hours memorizing in your dreams. 

His hand slowly lifts, just like it had in your dream. Only, this is real. There’s nothing keeping you from touching each other now. His fingers brush your cheek, the rough pads ghosting across your skin like he’s making sure you’re really real. Sparks erupt under your skin at the touch, the first touch you’ve ever shared. 

You close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him. He tenses for a moment, before he’s wrapping his own arms around you. The tears begin to fall, dampening his shirt as you cry for the months of solitude, the months of suffering he’d endured, the years you’ve both been waiting for this moment. The worry, the fear, the anxiety is melting away as you hold him, feeling him, ensuring he really is real. 

You tighten your hold on him, hands grasping his shirt as you hold on for dear life. He’s so warm, his heart thumping under your ear.

“I’ve got you, mesh’la.” He whispers, leaning his head against yours. “I’m right here.” 

“Months,” You sob, voice muffled by his shirt. “Months I didn’t hear from you. I thought something had happened...I thought-” 

He shushes you, tightening his hold on you. “I’m here now.” 

You let yourself relax in his hold, breathing him in. There’s a distinct metallic hint to his clothes, and the faint hint of sweat, but you’re not complaining. 

You don’t want to pull away from him. You want to stay here holding onto him forever. Yet, you know you can’t. 

You pull back slowly, meeting his gaze once more. His hand brushes your cheek once more, his palm warm against your skin. 

“You’re even more beautiful in person.” He says, eyes shining as he stares at you. 

Your cheeks heat up, so much he can probably feel it under his hand. You stare into those brown eyes, taking in every inch of him. “So are you.” 

The corner of his lips pull up in a grin as your face heats even more. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. 

You lift your hand, pressing it against his where it’s still resting on your cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here.” 

His thumb gently strokes your skin. “Me too.” 

It’s like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. Months of worrying, years of only having dreams to see and speak with each other had been taking its toll. The little relief you got from your shared dream space was nothing compared to having him in front of you. 

You don’t want this feeling to end. Yet, you know there’s still so much standing in your way. 

***

It’s late at night when you finally get back home. There had still been much to do after your arrival at the garage. Both you and Howzer had spoken to Senator Chuchi, and you had been introduced to the clones that had rescued Howzer, and the clones that had been part of Howzer’s squad. 

Howzer had also been a bit hesitant to leave his men, but at their insistence he had left with you. It wasn’t like you were going that far, and you wouldn’t stop him if he wanted to return to see them, or to help the fledgling rebellion. You had been briefed on their operation and sworn to secrecy, though you wouldn’t even dream of revealing them. 

“Here it is.” You say, leading Howzer inside the bakery. “My pride and joy.” 

He smiles, glancing around. “It’s cuter in person.” 

You had shown him images of your bakery in your shared dream space many times. When you’d bought the space, when you’d finished renovating, when you’d opened, and many times after as you changed aesthetics and decor. 

You smile proudly. “I put a lot of work into her.” 

He steps closer to you. "I can tell."

You stare up at him, getting lost in those eyes once more. You’re tempted to close the distance, but you don’t want to push too much. Especially not with him just having been rescued a few hours ago. 

“I have one employee, Mina.” You say, breaking the silence as you show him around the bakery. “She sort of knows about you already. Her sister helped me get in to see Senator Chuchi.” You pause by the door that leads up to your apartment. “I’m sure you’ll meet eventually, but don’t worry. She’s basically family. I’d trust her with my life.” 

You lead him up to your small apartment above the bakery. It’s not the most comfortable space, but it’s convenient and since it was just you, it worked.

You do wish you’d picked up a little before you left. 

You have crates of new bakeware stacked everywhere, along with more supplies for the bakery on the kitchen counter. It’s not so much messy as just cluttered. You had been meaning to move the crates down to the kitchen downstairs, but that was a lot of work, and with everything going on, you were a bit distracted. 

“Sorry, I’ll get this stuff cleared out tomorrow.” You say, stuffing a couple things in a crate before closing the top. You’re glad it’s the weekend and your bakery is closed. It will give you time to adjust, as well as figure some things out with Howzer. 

You straighten up, meeting Howzer’s gaze. He’s watching you, an unreadable expression on his face. You shift on your feet, unsure of what to say. You hadn’t thought this far ahead. You had been so focused on his rescue and then meeting him, you hadn’t planned much else. 

“You’re, uh, probably exhausted.” You say, breaking the silence. “You can have the spare bedroom.” You lead him across the living room to the door for the spare bedroom. “It doesn’t get used often,” You’re glad the bed is still made at least. “I don't remember the last time someone used it. There’s blankets in the closet if you get cold, but it gets pretty warm up here when the ovens are going in the kitchen downstairs. If you get too hot, you can turn on the air conditioning. I don’t bother since I’m downstairs most of the day and it cools off up here by the time I get done. Of course, we’re closed tomorrow so that won’t be much of a problem-” 

A hand on your arm stops your rambling. You stare down at it for a moment before you follow it up to Howzer’s face. “It’s fine.” He says, giving you a small smile. “I think this is the nicest room I’ve been in.” 

You open and close your mouth a few times. “That’s horribly depressing.” 

His hand slides down your arm until he reaches your hand, taking it in his. “I’d sleep on the floor if it meant I could be close to you.” 

Your cheeks warm once more, your stomach flipping at his words. “Well, I won’t make you do that. You can make yourself at home here. I’ll go out in the morning and pick up some stuff for you. I’m up pretty early usually anyway. Help yourself to anything you’d like, whenever you’d like.” You bite your lip, cutting off your rambling once more. 

“Thank you.” He squeezes your hand gently. “For everything.” 

“Well, I couldn’t just sit and do nothing.” You shrug. “I’m glad things worked out like they did.” 

“Fate has a way of making sure things do work out.” He says, squeezing your hand. 

“I guess it does.” You stare up into his eyes. 

You stand there for a few moments, just staring at one another. It doesn’t seem uncomfortable, the silence between you. You know it will take some adjusting for both of you. Him more so, adjusting to a civilian life. A civilian life he has to hide in. 

Senator Chuchi, and the other clones had cautioned both of you about anyone seeing Howzer. Especially since the Empire was aware of their interception and rescue. Though it was unlikely they’d send out a big search as that would warrant too much attention, if the wrong person saw Howzer, it would put both of you in danger. 

It was worth the risk. Though you occasionally had some higher-profile customers, you weren’t worried about them. You could easily hide Howzer in your home, and you knew where to go if you ever needed to run. Coruscant was a big place. There were plenty of places to hide. 

“I’ll, uh, let you get some sleep.” You say, pulling away from him, even though you feel you could stand there and stare at him for hours. “My room’s just off the kitchen. I’m a light sleeper so, just knock if you need anything.” 

You back out of the room slowly, hesitant to leave him but you’re starting to feel the tiredness weighing down your limbs. You know he has to be tired too. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s gotten a good night’s sleep. 

***

You settle into life with Howzer surprisingly easily. He tiptoes a bit, but you suppose that’s to be expected for someone new to civilian life. You return to a normal schedule at the bakery to keep up appearances. The last thing you need right now is for someone to suspect you of anything. 

You don’t tell Mina right away about Howzer living upstairs in your apartment. You want to give things time to settle, time to cool down before you share his whereabouts. You feel a bit paranoid about everything, but if it keeps Howzer safe, then it’s worth it. 

You haven’t used your dream space since he arrived. Though, with him being so close there wasn’t really a reason to. If you wanted to talk to him, he was only a room or a flight of stairs away. It feels surreal. 

Despite being so close, you both tiptoe around each other a bit. You hadn’t really known what to expect once you had him in front of you. You’re not really sure anyone knows what to expect when they first meet their soulmate. You’d had the benefit of speaking to him long before you actually met him, so you already knew a lot about each other, but yet, there’s still hesitation there.

You don’t really know each other. 

You’re a bit afraid to push, a bit afraid to start asking. He has to process it, and you want to give him time to do that. He’d given up a lot, risked a lot, and lost many of his men. That was just at the hands of the Empire. He had suffered through the war too.

He has nightmares often. 

The first time you heard him, it had been in the quiet hours of the early morning. You’d woken and heard the rustling sheets as he fought whatever enemy he was facing, the quiet mutterings as he relieved whatever horrible thing he was facing. 

You had debated getting up, but ultimately decided on it, not wanting to force him to continue to suffer through his nightmare. You got up and slipped to his room, watching his body jerk on the bed, brows pinched in a frown. 

“Howzer?” You asked, stepping closer to the bed. 

His eyes snapped open, body jerking upright. You suddenly found yourself with a blaster pointed at your chest. You stumbled back a step, gasping in shock. Clarity crosses his features, the blaster in his hand shaking as it stays pointed at you. 

He curses, the blaster slowly lowering. You can see the guilt, the regret in his gaze. You slowly move to his side, gently peeling his fingers from around the blaster. You drop it on the bed behind you, sinking down next to him. You’re not sure when he had gotten the blaster, but you can understand why he would feel he needed it. He’d practically been born with a blaster in hand. Of course having one now, especially in such a vulnerable situation, had to be comforting. 

“I could have shot you.” He gasps out, his breaths shaky. 

You lace your fingers with his, squeezing gently. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you.” 

“I could have killed you.” He says, voice shaking. 

“But you didn’t.” You say, turning his face to look at you. “I’m alright. It was my fault.”

You can see the tears shining in his eyes from the dim light coming in the window. You hate it, you hate his suffering, you hate that he’ll blame himself for this. You hate that you feel so helpless, but you know there’s some things he has to work through on his own. 

You can’t magically heal all of him. No matter how badly you wish you could. 

***

The nightmares continue

You wake up hearing his gasps and grunts, the thrashing of his body in the sheets often. Ever since he pulled a blaster on you, you’ve been hesitant to wake him. You had been lucky he hadn’t fired, that he’d woken quickly enough to realize what was going on. Realize who was standing in front of him. 

Instead you do research. He had figured out a way to control the dream space, to keep it from happening after he was arrested by the Empire. You hadn’t used it since he contacted you before his rescue, but perhaps you could figure out a way to use it to help him. 

In your research you learn dream spaces are controlled entirely by the soulmates themselves. It’s mostly done on a subconscious level after the first initial dream. The yearning, the need to see your soulmate drives the pull into the dream space. If both are asleep at the same time, one can pull the other in. One can also shut off the dream space from the other, even without rejection. 

So Howzer in his desperation to keep you safe had subconsciously cut off your dreamspace for months. It had only opened back up when he had wanted to contact you. When he needed to contact you. 

Perhaps you can use that to your advantage. 

You wait until Howzer has another nightmare before you try it. It takes a few minutes, some deep thinking, until suddenly you’re floating on that familiar feeling, the world around you going white. 

He’s there, looking around in shock. He’s breathing heavily, eyes still wide with fear. He says your name in confusion, brows pinching as he frowns. 

“I did it.” You say, stepping up to him. “It worked.” 

His frown deepens. “What did you do?” 

“You can control the dream space.” You explain, telling him everything you’ve learned. You want to help him with his nightmares, and this was the safest way for both of you. Not that you thought he’d pull a blaster on you, or shoot you, but you could never be too careful. 

“Thank you.” He says, relaxing a bit as the nightmare falls away, left in the past. 

“You know you can talk to me.” You say. “I can’t really understand what it was like, but you know I’ll listen.” 

His gaze drops, shoulders slumping. “I don’t want to scare you away.” 

You shake your head, wishing you could touch him. “You won’t scare me. Nothing you could say would scare me. Let me help you. I want to help you.” 

He slowly lifts his gaze, his eyes meeting yours. You give him a small smile, wishing you could reach out and smooth the small frown pinched between his brows. You wish you could run your fingers over his face, ease the tension in his body. 

You’ve never cursed your alarm more than you do at that moment. 

***

The weekend couldn’t come soon enough. The bakery seemed extra busy that week, and you had barely gotten time to take a break and check on Howzer. You know he’s fine, you know he’s capable of entertaining himself and keeping himself busy. You can’t help but worry about him, though. 

You get off late every day, dragging your feet up the steps, dreading another early morning. You love the bakery, and you wouldn’t change anything, but sometimes the exhaustion really begins to hit you. 

Howzer always looks concerned, usually starting to piece together something for dinner as you drag yourself in the door. He’s no professional chef, considering he lived off rations most of his life, but he does alright. He doesn’t seem to mind doing it, and you’re more than willing to let him help out a bit. Especially if it means you don’t have to stand in a kitchen more than you already do. 

Over the weekend you planned on testing new flavors for the bakery. It was getting about time to start revamping the menu again, and you had a few things you wanted to test. You’d usually force it on Mina and her soulmate to try, but you have Howzer now. He’d never really had anything sweet before he met you, and you had rectified that very quickly. 

You rise early as usual, taking care not to be too loud as you set to start making some cakes and pastries. You hum quietly to yourself as you begin mixing, measuring out ingredients and getting the pans ready. 

Howzer rises not long after, equally an early riser, though you were usually up before him. He watches you for a while, eyes following you around the kitchen. 

He doesn’t move until you’re starting on the second batch, joining you in the kitchen. He moves hesitantly, despite his posture always speaking to his training, his status. He took up a lot of space in any room, even if he was trying to make himself seem smaller. 

“Can you teach me?” He asks, stepping up next to you. 

You look up at him in surprise. “You want to learn how to make cakes?” 

He shrugs. “Yeah.” 

You stare down at the mixer before shrugging. “Sure, why not.”

You grab an apron for him, helping him tie it before you start explaining things. Ingredients, measurements, how much to add to the pans, how long to bake them for. You teach him how to make frosting too, how perfect everything has to be, how to know when it’s mixed just enough. 

He starts to talk too as you guide him, telling you about everything. From the time you last spoke right before he defied Imperial orders to when he was rescued. He tells you what happened to him, and the little he knew about what happened to the others. 

Your heart aches for him as he spills everything, everything that haunts him in his nightmares. You can understand why they’re so bad, why they plague him so much. 

You wrap your arms around him as you wait for the cakes to cool, pulling him against your chest. You hadn’t shared much contact at all since he moved into your apartment. You’d been separated by hesitation and your own busy schedule. You know he’s here, you know he’s real, but it feels good to hold him. You want to hold him and never let go. You want to be with him every minute of every day. You want to protect him and ease his nightmares away. 

“Sleep with me.” You say, voice slightly muffled by his chest. 

“What?” He chuckles nervously, trying to pull away but you tighten your hold around him. 

“Sleep in my bed with me. At night.” You say, trying to calm the nervous pounding of your heart. It matches his pounding against your ear. “Maybe...maybe it will help with the nightmares.” 

“I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.” He says. 

“I said I was a light sleeper. As soon as you start to have a nightmare, I can slip into the dream space and pull you out.” You say. “It’s worth a try.” 

He sighs, wrapping his arms tightly around you once more. “I guess.” 

You smile. “I’ve never had a man sound so disappointed to sleep in the same bed as me before.” 

He pulls away, staring down at you with a dark look on his face. 

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “Don’t worry. You’ll be the first to actually do it.” You shake your head. “Plenty have offered, but you know how busy I am and besides, I’ve been waiting on the right person.” 

He shakes his head, a smile forming on his face. “You think you’re so funny.” 

You grin, flicking frosting onto his nose. “I’m hilarious.” 

He looks offended before a wicked grin forms on his face, his arms scooping you up before you can even turn and run. You squeal, wiggling in his grasp. He loses his hold on you, both of you falling onto the floor in your small kitchen. He softens the drop with his arms, one hand cradling the back of your head as you hit the floor, and he falls on top of you. He’s a solid weight over you, your faces inches apart. 

You stare up into his eyes, your arms snaking around his neck. He drops just slightly closer, your breaths mingling. You lift your head just slightly before darting your tongue out to lick the frosting off his nose. 

His nose scrunches before he laughs, shaking his head. “You could just kiss me like a normal person.” 

“Who said I was normal?” You grin before you’re pulling him down, your lips meeting his. 

***

Howzer moved into your bed that night. He was still plagued by nightmares for the first few nights, but there was no incident, nothing like the first night he’d had a nightmare in your apartment. You had eased him into the dream space every time, talking him down before you inevitably woke thanks to your early alarm. 

He rises with you the first few times, until he eventually settles enough to give you a sleepy kiss before rolling over and going back to sleep. 

He also likes to cuddle. It had been a bit awkward at first, until you’d woken with his arms around you. You hadn’t said anything, and it easily became something natural. You gravitate towards each other as you were naturally made to do. 

You wake early one weekend, as you were wont to do. Not as early as you had to for work, but still too early for the weekend. Howzer agrees, his arms wrapped tight around you from behind. You can feel him, every part of him pressed up against your back. He’s shirtless, only his thin sleep pants and your own shorts separating you. His arms around your waist have pushed your shirt up, his skin touching yours. 

You can feel the energy between you, the tingling from where you’re connected. It’s a warm feeling, a comforting feeling. You feel safe, like nothing else in the world could hurt you, could come between you, so long as you’re touching. 

“Go back to sleep.” He murmurs, lips brushing your neck. 

You bite your lip at the sensation, goosebumps forming on your skin. He nuzzles his face closer, a warm puff of air ghosting over your skin as he exhales. You bite your lip, dropping your hands to his arms, trailing your fingers along his skin. He shifts against you, pressing even closer behind you. 

“I can’t.” You say, pushing back against him. 

He hums, one hand pushing higher beneath your sleep shirt, palm and fingers splaying across your stomach. You gasp at the sensation, shifting against him once more. You haven’t done more than kissing and some exploring, and plenty of cuddling. You can’t deny the heat pooling between your legs as he grinds against you, his half-hard length pressing against your ass. 

“Howzer?” You ask quietly, turning just slightly so you can see him. He lifts his head so he can stare down at you. “I’d like you to fuck me now.” 

His hand slips from beneath your shirt to cup your face. “You sure, mesh’la?” 

You take the hand on your face, boldly slipping it under your shorts so it’s resting against your damp panties. “I’m ready.” 

The corner of his lips lift in a grin. “That’s pretty good evidence.” He pushes against your underwear, applying pressure to your clit. 

You gasp, fingers wrapping around his wrist. “I’m ready. I want to do it.” 

He leans down, kissing you softly. “As long as you’re sure.” 

“I’m sure.” You say, kissing him hard. 

His tongue slips into your mouth, the hand between your legs beginning to circle your clit over your panties. You cling to him, allowing him to work your body up. You could get lost in him so easily, in his tender touches, his strong demeanor.

He’s utterly perfect. 

You moan against his lips as he continues to tease you through your panties, your own hand trailing down his chest. You trace the lines of his muscles, slowly working your way down his stomach. His hips press closer to your hand, a groan rumbling through his chest. 

You nip at his bottom lip as he pulls back, moving his body so he’s hovering over you. His hand pulls free of your shorts, fingers looping under the waistband before tugging them down your legs. You pull your shirt over your head, leaving yourself bare before him. You fight the urge to hide under his gaze, the urge to cover yourself as he studies you. 

He leans his body over yours, pressing a kiss to your lips. “So kriffing beautiful.” He murmurs, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck. 

“Howzer,” You gasp as he nips at the sensitive skin, your arms wrapping around his strong back. 

You can feel the pulsing beneath your skin, the electricity starting to ignite your nerve endings as you get closer and closer to him. He’s so big and warm over you, the pulsing feeling shooting down between your thighs. 

You need him. 

Your fingers trail down his back before they slip under the waistband of his sleep pants. You begin to tug them down and he pulls away just enough to help you, kicking them off the end of the bed. He’s thick and hard, the tip of his cock leaking. You bite your lip as you stare at him, thighs clenching in anticipation. 

“Kriff, I need you so bad.” He groans, burying his face in your chest. He licks and nips at your skin, leaving marks in his wake. It’s so possessive, the way he leaves his mark on you, the way his hands grip your sides, your hips. 

“Take me.” You say, letting your thighs fall open for him. “I’m yours.” 

He stares down at your glistening pussy, licking his lips. “All mine.” 

“Only yours.” You gasp as his fingers trail along your slick folds, gathering the wetness there to wet his cock. 

He slips his cock along your folds, teasing you before he lines himself up. You watch him as he eases the head of his cock inside, your body stiffening a bit at the stretch. His hands grip your hips, gently massaging the skin in an attempt to ease the stretch and help you relax.

“So kriffing tight.” He breathes as he slips further in, moving slowly to give you time to adjust. 

He folds his body over yours as he sinks completely inside you, lips tracing a path from your chest to your jaw. He’s so big, stretching you so much. You wrap yourself around him, holding onto him as your body adjusts to his cock. 

“So good for me.” He whispers in your ear, shifting his hips just slightly. “So perfect.” 

You moan as his cock moves inside you, your legs tightening around his waist. 

“You like that?” He groans, pulling out just a little before sinking back into you. “Feel good?” 

“So good.” You gasp, hips lifting to meet his slow thrusts. 

“Good girl.” He murmurs, pulling out further, before sinking back in. 

You cling to him as he fucks you deep and slow, his arms wrapped around you just as tightly. You can feel him, every part of him as he makes love to you, your very souls connecting. It’s almost overwhelming, being so connected, being so full of him. 

“Howzer!” You gasp his name as you cum, shaking under him. 

He groans into your neck, hips jerking as he spills into you. 

Neither of you move, still wrapped around each other, still completely connected. You’re practically vibrating with energy as the feeling of him fills you and overwhelms your body. The warm puffs of his breath on your sweat-slicked skin, the beat of his heart echoing in your chest keeps you grounded, keeps you here with him. 

“I love you,” He whispers, lips brushing your skin. 

“I love you too.” You whisper in his ear, tightening your hold around him. 

(I'm going to try putting the taglist in a reblog. See if that works.)

[feralssinbin]

Doordash AU

I can't believe i"m still on this damn au it's so silly lmao.

ALRIGHT SO, this one started from a single post showing someones DD Driver was named Sunny. And then it spiraled wildly out of control into something with FEELINGS and PLOT.

Casual Info/Synopsis this time cause idk how to shorten it~

YN is a stay at home artist. They've been a stay at home artist for years, and the longer they've done it, the more reclusive they've become. They don't make a crazy amount, but they can pay the bills on their small one-bed apartment with a combo livingroom/kitchen area. It's not much, but it's enough for them. Social anxiety has only gotten worse over the last few years and aside from the occasional last resort trip out to the store to get something they can't wait on, they do most of their grocery shopping online, and when they're feeling like a little self care, ordering delivery, as a treat.  They frequent the same 3 or 4 restaurants, loosely the same times during the week, and it's become enough of a habit they recognize a couple of the dashers that bring them food.

One day there's a new name, Sunny, and when they arrive with their food, YN is, well, shocked. Animatronics/robots are not unheard of, but they're incredibly uncommon, and to have one just. Delivering food like this? It's super weird, but also kind of cool, but also kind of terrifying. And he's so cheerful. YNs shock is taken as an invitation to talk their ear off, and it's not until they get another delivery order that YN can get away, nearly 20 minutes later. 

It's a whirlwind experience where they barely got a word in edgewise after it came out they drew for a living, a little bit of this bot's life story rambling out about how he used to work in a daycare with kids and his own love of arts and crafts. haha, yeah... Cool... But it was nice still, in a weird way. It's been a long time since they'd had any kind of extended conversation with another person, IN person.

The next time they meet is a few weeks later, and YN recognizes the driver right away, both excited and nervous. When he gets out of the car, awkward and gangly and way too tall for it, he's bouncing just as much as they feel inside. Their food is almost totally forgotten as YN gets picked up in a hug before he catches himself, old habits die hard, and the first little nickname drop happens. The talking goes on and on, though more two sided this time now that the shock and awe of first meeting has waved off a bit. He's still damn tall and so crazy animated, how'd he end up doing this instead of taking care of kids like he'd mentioned before. though this time it's all about YNs job, and how that works. he's fascinated and full of questions, the first hints of looking into other avenues of gaining income (why does he need income?) dropped.

Another delivery order comes in and he wilts, visibly, and the casual idea of him coming back end of his run is toed into existence, but YN waves it off... That could be awkward. But now they know what his usual schedule is.

The next time he arrives is deliberate. YN has been ordering food from the same restaurant at the same time for a few days in a row. They're getting tired of it, but when Sunny's name pops up again, they're ready. This should be his last delivery of the night, so when he shows up, a little more reserved after the denied hang out last time, he absolutely shines when YN invites them in to hang out for a while.

The two talk about everything and nothing, but as the sun starts to set, Sun himself has to excuse himself to go home. Something about driving in the dark not being too safe, and he goes.

This continues, YN ordering food near his end of shift so he can come by and visit, and slowly we learn about his situation. The plex is gone, burned down, and the animatronics that could be salvaged were sent to other locations. HE however, had been scrapped. Too damaged, not worth the repair. The timeline is hazy, but someone put him back together to a more working order (he wasn't THAT broken, but for fazbear's care, he was broken enough) and now that he's active again, his 'savior' has him working to earn his own keep to cover the electric cost to keep him running. 

YN is sus of this right away. With as much as it seems like they have Sun working, the numbers don't add up. Especially as he explains how there's a dual battery system that swaps out to recharge one while the other runs. Like taking an internal nap. Theoretically, with a system like that he wouldn't need the extra electrical charge, the way a car battery can go years before needing to be swapped out... And swapping out a battery like that, depending on how it's made, shouldn't cost THIS much to power. But it's handwaved for a while as the two get closer.

There's  time where we have the first moon scare, but he's relatively calm, there's a power out one of the times Sun stays for a lights-on sleepover, YN working on a commission when the power goes out and they lose connection. At this point YN just thinks Sun is afraid of the dark, because kids and stuff, and the topic of Moon has been... skirted around. Mutually. Moon isn't ready to test if this human is going to be weirded out by there being two of them, let alone that the second one is HIM. They're a fascinating human though, so he'll allow this friendship for now, and just ride shotgun. Until he's forced into the pilot seat.

something something, YN knows now. Sort of. But no explanation. "Time for bed." Is initiated and YN is disturbed but also compliant because who's gonna argue with the definitely not sun 7 foot tall robot with glowing red eyes? Not them, that's for sure. DEBATING A JOKING 'No good night kiss?' nervous laugh moment that does indeed get a good night kiss, or just leave it ominous. Relevant later.

BUT Sun avoids talking about what happened that night. YN wakes up and they're gone and it takes a bit to get Sun to show up again, and he's once again hesitant and sheepish, but there's no harm done. He still isn't ready to talk about it. APPARENTLY his hang out time isn't something his 'savior' is too appreciative of though. And YN is getting mad about this for them. Cause they don't quite understand how much they're getting taken advantage of. They know something is off, but they don't quite have the scope of it down.

Operation Steal Sunny initiated.

Which... Honestly just consists of YN going back to this dudes house with them to drop off the car and anxiously navigate the bus system until it gets a little too confusing and just break down and call an Uber instead. Sun is very anxious about this. For Moon reasons. For 'I'm property' reasons. For how will i afford power reasons.  For a lot of other reasons too.

He doesn't want to turn the lights out. Cause Moon is PISSED. He was content to just do what they were doing cause that human wasn't getting rid of them. There's no guarantee YN won't, especially once they have to deal with Moon on the regular too. Spoiler, he's so used to acting out for the sake of getting a rise out of people he's not used to just... being chill cause he CAN be chill anymore, so gremlin mode will dial down slowly.

BUT he has to test limits. Push buttons. He doesn't really want to hurt YN cause they have genuinely been nice and he wants to think they're being sincere in their attempt to help them, but there's always that grain of salt. They thought the other human was trying to help them but they were just getting used for free income. What's to say this 'starving artist' won't do the same? So he does the chase song and dance, the threats, minor injuries to see if it'd be enough to scare YN into showing true colors...  And they ARE scared, but they also know Sun at this point. Even if Moon is gonna be shitty, and they say as much, Sun is their friend, and they aren't gonna let him go back. Even if it means putting up with Moon.

WHICH HURTS, but in a way that warms his heart sorta. Like.. OK OW? But also deserved. He's not done poking the bear, though, but again, bit by bit he goes from full gremlin mode to spikey roommate to soft nap lord. With gremlin habits still. He wouldn't be moon if he wasn't a pest sometimes.

The GOOD thing about some of this, is Sun has no GPS on him. The phone he used was left behind (thinking about that at least) and aside from the deliveries he completed, there's no real track for the other dude to figure out where he is, so it's a pretty casual domestic life for a while.

Sun and Moon both are still anxious they aren't pulling their weight while YN is struggling a bit more to make bills happen, shorting food to make sure the electric gets paid as the bill does go up a good bit, but they're making it work sorta.

The topic comes up again about working with kids, and they start to keep an eye on job openings for babysitting, and maybe dog walking but dogs are definitely not children, and asking around at a couple different local, small daycares, that might end up with job openings.

The tentative babysitting goes well at first,  but finding a family or two that'll stick, because creepy animatronic, is harder. The kids love it, mostly, but the parents are weirded out. One or two recognize Sun's design as the old fazbear model, and they seem interested, and it's something at least.  Eventually down the line, there IS an opening at a daycare and thus starts late-game plot.

The dude finds out. An animatronic working at a daycare narrows it down PRETTY HARD.  That's his property, and his money. He wants them back. Sun is opposed and there is no longer any programming that states he has to listen to him just because he has receipts.

FAZBEAR finds out, and along with the fact that Sun still looks like Superstar Daycare Sun that's IP theft, also their software/patent info walking around that should be in a scrap heap. THEY want him back, but mostly to scrap him properly.

Problem.

To Be Continued…

[saorsay]

love them sm, god i wish gay ppl were real

[giancarlofisichella]

apple of my eye

[strandedcrow]

.

[tealilie-art]

Thank you for over 5K!

Here is a redraw of some early soukoku fanart I did back in the day, funny to think of how art styles change. I really appreciate all the support! :’)

[borntofishforcedtowork]

grahamcockroach posting art TWO DAYS IN A ROW??? unheard of. my gift to u my froger fans (kis)

[nataschasfm]

            hello  everyone  ,  i’m  lia  !  i’m  21+  ,  prefer  she / they  pronouns  ,  reside  in  the  est  timezone  ,  and  i’m  super  stoked  to  be  here  !  i  have  been  wanting  to  write  out  an  older  muse  for  quite  some  time  now  ,  and  i’m  really  happy  that  i  stumbled  upon  manhattan  at  like  ...  4am  the  other  day  !  i  won’t  bore  you  with  my  own  intro  because  i’m  incapable  of  condensing  my  writing  (  a  true  lover  of  details  )  ,  but  please  feel  free  to  message  me  on  discord  if  that’s  the  best  place  for  you  when  it  comes  to  plotting  ,  or  we  can  keep  it  in  the  im’s  !  i  will  admit  to  natascha  being  a  relatively  new  muse  ,  so  please  excuse  me  for  any  kinks  i  may  work  out  as  time  progresses  ,  but  i  can’t  wait  to  read  everyone’s  intros  and  plot with  your  amazing  muses  !

            bae  joohyun  .  cis  female  .  she  /  her  //  you  don’t  know  ?  that’s  NATASHA  SUH  !  they’re  a  THIRTY  year  old  fashion  stylist  and  entrepreneur  from  OJAI  ,  CALIFORNIA  .  as  part  of  manhattan’s  elite  ,  the  amaranth  is  known  to  be  POISED  &  OBTRUSTIVE  .  most  people  recognize  them  by  trying  on  ten  outfits  before  picking  the  first  ,  the  sound  of  luxurious  suitcase  wheels  on  airport  floors  ,  the  soft  scent  of  vanilla  lingering  in  shower  steam  ,  and  the  gentle  sparkle  in  her  eyes  when  she  gets  what  she  wants  .

NAME  :  natascha  suh  .

NICKNAME(S)  :  sascha  ,  primarily  .  nat  and  tasch  .

AGE  +  DOB  :  thirty  +  february  19th  ,  1990  .

HEIGHT  :  5′2″  .

ASTROLOGICAL  SIGN  :  pisces  .

MORAL  ALIGNMENT  :  chaotic  good  .

GENDER  +  PRONOUNS  :  cis  female  +  she  /  her  /  hers  .

PLACE  OF  BIRTH  :  ojai  ,  california  .

SEXUAL  ORIENTATION  :  bisexual  .

ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION  :  biromantic  

OCCUPATION  :  fashion  stylist  and  entrepreneur  .

NATIONALITY  :  korean - american  .

ETHNICITY  :  korean  .

LANGUAGES  SPOKEN  :  english  ,  korean  ,  and  conversational  japanese  .

background  .

natascha  grew  up  in  the  beautiful  ojai  ,  california  to  a  neurosurgeon  of  a  father  and  a  yoga  instructor  /  stay  at  home  wife  of  a  mother  .  on  one  hand  ,  natascha’s  home  life  was  very  comfortable  ,  but  she  also  never  really  knew  what  she  wanted  to  be  when  she  grew  up  .  at  three  ,  she  would  have  said  that  she  wanted  to  be  a  princess  .  at  thirteen  ,  she  would  have  said  she  wanted  to  be  a  lawyer  (  much  to  the  dismay  of  her  father  )  ,  but  she  didn’t  really  know  what  she  wanted  to  do  until  she  was  sixteen  and  tasked  with  the  responsibility  of  her  first  car  .

given  a  1995  volvo  850  ,  she  was  suddenly  tasked  with  paying  for  maintenance  and  her  portion  of  the  insurance  .  as  most  sixteen  year  olds  did  in  2006  ,  she  went  out  and  nabbed  herself  a  job  at  the  local  mall  .  during  that  time  ,  it  was  eight  hours  of  work  a  day  to  pay  for  her  most  prized  possession  ,  but  natascha  also  fell  in  love  with  clothes  .  sure  ,  she  had  a  closet  full  of  pieces  that  she  adored  ,  but  she  never  had  an  appreciation  for  what  went  into  styling  .

so  ,  as  she  worked  at  various  stores  in  the  mall  (  she  worked  at  three  up  until  she  was  nineteen  )  ,  she  learned  what  it  took  to  style  the  mannequins  after  begging  each  one  of  her  managers  to be  tasked  with  the  job  .  she  was  always  working  her  hardest  to  show  off  what  she  knew  ,  but  in  the  beginning  it  wasn’t  so  easy  .  she  was  often  told  to  redo  something  ,  to  take  away  a  certain  accessory  ,  or  to  change  the  outfit  all  together  .    

natascha  slowly  worked  her  way  to  becoming  a  stylist  at  neiman  marcus  when  she  was  twenty  ,  but  she  didn’t  want  to  leave  it  there  .  so  ,  natascha  went  off  to  attend  the  academy  of  art  university  where  she  obtained  an  associate’s  in  fashion  styling  .  while  there  ,  it  took  a  lot  of  time  networking  with  various  people  ,  attending  a  ton  of  social  events  ,  and  juggling  a  full  time  job  post  graduation  to  get  the  dream  she  was  hoping  to  obtain  .  natascha  spent  a  lot  of  time  telling  little  white  lies  to  her  parents  about  being  okay  ,  when  in  reality  ,  she  was  constantly  overwhelmed  .

it  took  about  two  years  of  grinding  nonstop  before  natascha  encountered  a  photographer  ,  and  said  photographer  helped  her  land  a  dream  job  :  styling  a  shoot  for  british  vogue  .  next  thing  you  know  ,  she  was  on  a  flight  to  london  about  to  do  what  she  loved  .  a  few  months  later  ,  natascha  nabbed  one  of  the  magazines  from  her  local  bookseller  ,  and  she  was  brought  to  tears  when  she  saw  her  name  published  in  a  true  magazine  .

this  was  only  the  start  ,  because  soon  ,  her  phone  was  ringing  off  of  the  hook  and  she  was  only  twenty - five  !  while  she  loved  styling  for  magazines  ,  natascha  eventually  moved  into  personal  styling  because  she  loved  helping  people  fall  in  love  with  clothes  ,  but  also  helping  them  feel  good  in  their  clothes  .  thanks  to  the  introduction  of  instagram  ,  natascha  was  reaching  more  people  and  able  to  network  much  easier  ,  so  here  she  was  officially  building  a  brand  .  

natascha  was  twenty - seven  when  she  officially  purchased  a  showroom  ,  and  she  was  once  again  moved  to  tears  when  natascha  suh  style  lit  up  on  the  neon  sign  .  she  was  proud  to  see  her  styling  be  posted  on  instagrams  and  on  twitter  ,  being  tagged  and  praised  for  her  work  .  all  of  natascha’s  hard  work  paid  off  as  she  was  soon  being  invited  to  sit  front  row  during  fashion  month  ,  (  and  because i’m  obsessed  with  those  pictures  )  ,  she  was  invited  to  be  the  face  of  miu  miu  !  

currently  ,  natascha  has  her  showroom  in  the  city  ,  where  she  works  primarily  on  personal  styling  ,  but  she  still  styles  for  certain  fashion  shows  and  magazines  .  she’s  worked  with  various  brands  in  the  past  (  and  because  i  love  me  some  badgalriri  )  and  now  she  works  as  a  stylist  with  fenty  !

temperament  .

very  outspoken  and  she  wants  to  be  in  your  business  !  likes  to  gossip  ,  but  doesn’t  really  care  to  know  all  of  your  business  .  generally  ,  she’s  really  chatty  .  she’s  the  kind  of  woman  who  knows  better  than  to  tote  people’s  business  if  they’re  only  sharing  it  with  her  .

can  be  quite  dignified  in  the  sense  that  she  can  sometimes  carry  herself  with  her  nose  in  the  air  ,  but  she’s  not  super  snooty  by  any  means  .  she  carries  herself  as  such  because  in  her  career  ,  it’s  all  about  what  and  who  you  know  .  

she  can  be  quite  dramatic  at  times  and  sometimes  she  doesn’t  even  notice  that  she’s  doing  it  .  sometimes  she  complains  a  lot  and  can  sound  really  bratty  at  times  ,  but  that’s  just  how  she  is  .  overall  ,  though  ,  she’s  very  fun - loving  and  always  looking  to  have  a  good  time  .  natascha  and  drama  DO  NOT  mix  ,  but  she’s  not  going  to  pretend  like  she  doesn’t  have  any  /  hasn’t  had  any  in  her  life  .  

headcanons  .

natascha  grew  up  in  a  slightly  unconventional  home  ,  and  that’s  stuck  with  her  even  until  now  !  she  may  live  in  the  city  ,  but  she’s  always  looking  for  that  laidback  flair  that  ojai  is  known  for  .  her  apartment  is  littered  with  greenery  ,  and  it’s  not  unheard  of  for  her  to  whip  out  a  yoga  mat  from  behind  the  couch  .  

she’s  very  into  her  home  being  her  relaxed  space  ,  and  she  specifically  likes  to  keep  her  home  and  work  life  separate  .  her  showroom  is  very  colorful  and  loud  because  of  all  of  the  colors  and  the  clothes  everywhere  ,  but  her  apartment  is  full  of  earthy  tones  and  really  a  place  of  comfort  .

her  love  language  is  cooking  meals  together  and  remembering  what  she  may  have  told  you  !  as  aforementioned  ,  she’s  very  much  a  chatty  kathy  so  if  you  remember  what  she’s  told  you  in  the  middle  of  her  ramblings  then  she’ll  love  you  forever  .

designer  lover  from  head  to  toe  !  although  i  will  say  that  she  likes  her  lower  end  pieces  as  well  .  definitely  known  for  pairing  inexpensive  jeans  with  thousand  dollar  boots  and  things  of  the  sort  .  to  her  ,  it’s  all  about  looking  good  at  the  end  of  the  day  .

most  comfortable  in  her  apartment  where  she  can  let  her  hair  down  and  she  doesn’t  have  to  wear  pants  !  come  to  her  house  when  she’s  done  with  work  and  chances  are  she’s  wearing  her  pajamas  and  trying  out  of  the  mountains  of  makeup  that  she’s  been  sent  .  so  ,  don’t  be  surprised  if  she  answers  the  door  taking  off  a  deep  berry  lipstick  or  shimmering  eyeshadow  .

[alitheamateur]

The Grind-Chapter 10

Warnings: Violence. 

Round Two

Mendez wasted no valuable time in attacking Colton when the bell for the second round rang out. Three left jabs connected to Colt’s rock-hard jawbone, and he rattled his head as if to shake off the confused stupor clouding him.

“Don’t let him back you into the cage, Colton!! Get off the cage!!” Mac coned his mouth to project the cries of instruction.

The newly named “punisher” masked his stubbled cheeks and doubled over, flexing his abs to lessen the blow of the jabs he was suffering at the hands of The “Matador” Mendez. Colt was able to duck beneath the repetitive one-one-two-one-two pattern and escape. Danny turned swiftly on his right foot to directly meet a lightening surged, spinning back fist produced by Colton that couldn’t have been more perfectly executed had it been wrapped in a floppy red bow. The fastens of the championship belt were metaphorically loosening from the waist of the current title holder. Mendez collapsed wobbly to land at the feet of his assassin, while the rest of the room, myself included, rose in entirety for confirmation that Mendez was rendered unconscious.

A mumbled “shit” rolled over my bitten tongue when he scraped his busted body off the mat, and I realized there was still some fight left in him. Too much for my liking, as a matter of fact. Colt detected Danny was standing on loose bearings, fully primed to finish him off so that referee could lift his likely shattered hand in victory.

“Brett, I’ve taken many a hit like the one Ritter just slung, and I can promise you that Dan doesn’t even know where the hell he is right now.” The retired fighter turned announcer crumpled his nose as The Matador staggered clumsily about the confines of the cage.

Beads of sweat waterfalled from Colton, while it appeared he had turned Mendez’s sweat to blood now. Crimson mist from the brutal blow veiled my Colt’s face in sprayed decoration, leaving him to resemble a battling Spartacus. He was hunting the afflicted animal of his adversary, who was obviously giving his best efforts to remain untouched the dwindling minutes of the round. Effort that sadly for Danny was in vain as his Punisher cornered him with panther like reflexes, unleashing combative hammer fists to his crouched torso. A strident roar more chilling than that of any jungle predator crawled from Colton’s straining, veined throat as he was peeled away from Danny, who was now quaking in the momentary safety of his corner until the next bell rang out beginning the third round.

Colton’s posse catered to his unsteady breathing chest by smashing ice packs to his pecks, and blotching back muscles, leaving Mac to pour water into his gapping mouth. My eyes drooped in mesmerizing ignorance upon the realization of what the world of competitive fighting really entailed. Men who chose this career path were born with the hearts of gladiators, and unfaltering dedication that I deeply admired. When I wisped back to the present moment, my dilated eyes were matched with the two belonging to Colton. His mouth drawn into an expressionless line, jaws flexing in tension, he held onto my gazes for only a moment, however long enough to feel as if I would suffocate from the intensity. It was like he wanted to assure me that he knew I was there, and where exactly. And that he was okay.

One Sunday over brunch at his favorite greasy diner he shut up my harassment of questions.

“You’re gonna have to cool it with the worryin’, woman. Have some faith in me, ight! When you tell me about a story you been workin’ on you don’t hear me sayin’, ‘You sure you wanna do that?’ or ‘that’s a lotta pressure, baby.’ Because I know how amazing you are at what you do, and I got total confidence you’re gonna make that story your bitch. I appreciate the concern. Honestly love, I do. But it’s gonna be fine, I promise ya’.” And in his eyes, tonight in that ring, he reiterated that very same Sunday brunch pep talk.

 Round Three

Colton had appeared to have jumped the proverbial hurdle described as Danny Mendez. Now, we just needed to cross that finish line, and cross it first. There was no way Dan could withstand another round like the previous two, physically or mentally. He was all but a whipped pup whimpering at his master’s feet by this point, but Colt had to finish him. Seal the deal, as they say.

“C’mon, baby. C’mon, baby,” I chanted through clenched teeth, my nervous hands clasped to each side of the chair to protect my newly manicured nail polish from being whittled away in edginess.

Light hands were being tossed between the two men, nothing quite connecting initially. However, when Mendez carried out a right hook resembling Rocky  himself to Colt’s left cheek, he was triggered. From several feet back, separated by a metal cage, a waist high barricade, and two rows of people, I had chills from the look on his face. Raw rage was swirling in Colt’s blue eyes that must be like mood rings because I would swear with every ounce of me that they melted to a muddled charcoal grey shade as his murderous ferment grew.  Blow after blow. Swing, after swing, after swing rained from his hands of steel, some connecting, most not. His overpowering fury and lack of control was swelling all too quickly.

A wonky, sloppily executed move sent him clumsily into the grasp of Mendez, who perfectly seized the fluky opportunity. When Colt nearly knelt to reach for the leg The Matador, his nose and sharp cheekbone crashed to the thigh of Danny. The muscled, male flesh grappling along the blood tarnished canvas was more jumbled to me than the most abstract piece of Picasso. Finally, when the bodies settled a little, I was able to distinguish better what was unfolding. The Punisher’s clearly weakening forearm was constricted between the bulging limbs of Danny.  I subconsciously lunged out of my seat, for a millisecond forgetting what my role truly was here tonight. Not Colton’s girlfriend, not a woman concerned for the well-being of the man she loved, but a columnist for the Pilot. So, as quickly as I was up, I was regretfully seated, left to repel the blazing desire I had to hop that padded retaining wall and run to where Mac stood to be at the side of my Colton.

His face buried into the upper body of his attacker, who was using his hooked arms to ease Colt’s elbow to the back side of his neck. Silencing the uproar of the crowd, and the desperate grimaces coming from the ring, and I could almost hear the tendons buried under my boyfriends tanned skin creaking in stretch, nearing a tear.

“FOLKS IT IS HAPPENING RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW. If you’re not seeing this one first hand boys and girls, you should be! Danny with the flawless Kimura Lock, Brett. Will Ritter be able to escape this one?” The analyst screamed.

We’d been over arm bars, bare naked chokes, bow and arrow chokes, triangle chokes. Many nights I spent cross legged against the ring post watching Colton perform, and escape nearly every martial arts submission known to man. But the word Kimura didn’t draw any recognition when I heard the broadcaster scream it to the world. Seconds as long as the day ticked, ticked, ticked by. 44 seconds remaining… 41…….. 35……….. Suddenly, the tapping of a submissive hand to the mat. 

A hand strapped in black gloves. Gloves marked Ritter. Mendez was ceased by flailing hands of the ring official, signaling the end of the battle. His victorious hand raised to display, mouthpiece hanging out the left of his lip. In all my life, you could’ve never convinced me this egotistical, loud mouth, headache of a man would commit the act he did next. Squatting to his still face down, defeated opponent, Danny looped his arms under those belonging to Colton, hoisted him to his feet, and embraced him with patted hands into a hug. He had secured their heads together with a palm to crown of his submitters head, and began preaching unheard praises in his ear. Colton responded with knowing nods of appreciation, and the pair were torn apart for the official call from the referee. Not hanging around to partake in the celebration of his defeat, Colton snuck through the opened door of the cage, seeking the escape to his dressing room, away from the shutterbugs in his face, and microphones chasing him. I hoped maybe his eyes would happen to fall my way, wanting to gift him with a smile of support, or even a frown of understanding. But when the pace of his slightly bowed, unmistakably masculine gait increased toward the tunnel, never raising his face from the floor, a heap of strife bloomed in the pits of my stomach.    

 Regretfully I had to stay & witness “almighty” Mendez once again take the belt back into his slimy hands. This reign was beginning to smell stagnant to most of the fan base across the board, and Colton seemed to be the knight with the best chance at snagging the crown right from his head. Much, much to my surprise, Danny’s first post-victory radio interview began with the unexpected praises of one Colton.

“First of all, I want to thank Ritter for giving me what may have been the most challenging match of my life. The pendejo prick can throw a jab, I’ll give him that.”

Despite the uniquely gracious compliment, the guy still rubbed me the wrong way.

The arena emptied quite quickly, and most of the media frenzied their way to the locker room area for the press conference, coveting to be front row. But I was very familiar with how anything “post” event played out. The athletes and/or coaches usually took their painfully precious time for our brains to rot in waiting, then when they did eventually decide to grace us with their usually self-proclaiming marvelous appearance, it would include all of answering maybe two questions, before storming out. So clearly, I was in no hurry and I figured I had a solid half hour to check on Colt beforehand.

Beth, Michael, and Mac stood identically against the cold concrete of the walls, arms folded about their chest. His mom acknowledged me first.

“Liv dear, hey there!” she drew my hands into hers. “How are you? I’m sure as disappointed as we are…”

“It really is a shame. He had it won, too! He has nothing to be ashamed of though, that’s for sure! Even Mendez was kinda singing his praises out there. Guess that’s just how the world of fighting goes sometimes, unfortunately. How is he?”

Beth never released my hands when looking to her sternly quite husband standing to the left of her.

“Kid won’t see anyone, honey. Got Mac here guarding the door like a rabid dog. This is pretty typical for him. ‘Specially after a loss.” Michael seemed accustomed to said behavior from his son. Annoyed, but accustomed nonetheless.

Beth on the other hand, looked as if she was profoundly saddened that her baby boy didn’t need his momma during a time like this. Her lips tucked in, forehead scrunched in concern.

“Maybe I can raise his spirits a bit, hm?” I gently brushed my soft thumbs to the tops of her hands in efforts to comfort her, then released her hold.

Before I could even wrap a finger around the sliver handle of the door he was hiding behind, Mac’s forearm dropped even between my waist level and the door, reflexes like that of a cat on a tin roof.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I can’t let you go in there. Just doin’ as I’m told, you understand.”

Those rules didn’t apply to me, silly Mac. I’m the woman he loves for crying out loud! I’d hate to be you when he finds out you’re keeping me away for him, ya’ poor sap.

“Just tell him I’m here, Mac. Please?”

His eyes grew to resemble large, glossy marbles and he exhaled in annoyance, disappearing into the room. I combed and teased fingers through my hair, and casually reapplied a layer of Chapstick to my now festering lips resulting from the nervous biting throughout the fight. No sooner than the door had latched behind him, Mac had stepped back out into the now hectic hallway.

“I uh… I’m sorry, Miss Liv. Colt doesn’t wanna see anyone right now.”

“Did you specifically tell him it was ME, Mac,” I quizzically pried, laying both hands over my chest.

“Yes ma’am. Mentioned you by name…” He was bashful, almost embarrassed for me, and probably half pissed at his buddy for appointing him the bearer of bad news.

Shame flushed me head to toe. I would’ve buried my head six feet in the sand that very moment, mortified with humiliation. Let me clarify, I could’ve buried Colton himself six feet under the cold dirt first, then my head. My thumb started to flick my pointer finger, a nervous tick engaging.

“Oh darling, don’t take it personally, okay? The boy will be all apologies once he snaps out of this little tantrum he’s throwing. I’m sure if it.” Beth said unintentionally patronizing.

“No, no. Um… it’s totally fine. Yeah, um.. I’ve gotta get to the post conference anyways so… Beth, it’s so, so good to see you both. Maybe we can meet you guys for breakfast or something in the morning before you head home?”

I could feel my throat tightening with the extreme effort I was giving to hold the dam of tears from bursting. I wasn’t even necessarily hurt, it was the fact that he had made me look like an absolute fool, and in front of his parents, nonetheless. Now, I’m sure they saw me as just another spineless, dense airhead hanging on the coattails of their handsome, prized son.

“Good to see you too, girl. You be careful gettin’ home now.” Michael pointed a finger in my face, while patting my shoulder with the other.

The uneven patter of my heels echoed down the hall, denying the invitation to the pity party they were about to throw for me. The pouting baby wouldn’t face me? There would be no escaping me at the conference though. In just mere minutes, he’d be at my journalistic mercy, with a watching crowd. And he may just take his thrashing right then & there. The groveling look of remorse on his face would more than likely be worth the embarrassment.

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935

[your-dietician]

Summer entertainment returns to venues in CNY

New Post has been published on https://tattlepress.com/entertainment/summer-entertainment-returns-to-venues-in-cny/

Summer entertainment returns to venues in CNY

Covid-19 restrictions have been lifted across New York State, and the long days of July and August mean summer entertainment can flourish as usual in Central New York. Organizations will maintain a variety of safety protocols that might include limited seating, masking for unvaccinated patrons and online ticket purchases. Check the website of each event for details.

Local arts and music events in alphabetical order are as follow:

CAZENOVIA COUNTERPOINT

July brings a full schedule of music, poetry and visual art to the village of Cazenovia. The annual festival begins with the exhibit of a month-long curated show of the work of 24 Central New York artists and concludes with a performance of new music from Young Composers Corner participants at Lakeland Park.

Components of the annual celebration of the arts are woven into village activities, such as the weekly Cazenovia Farmers Market (new music from 10 to noon), the Fourth of July Parade, and local businesses. Patrick Lawler, along with Eric Evans and David Hitchcock of the YMCA Downtown Writers Center, will coordinate a poetry/writers event July 13 and.

Ticketed events include “Libba Cotton,” a new opera that will be performed July 17 at 7:30 p.m. at the Catherine Cummings Theater, and “New Music Strikes Gold,” July 25 at 4 p.m. at the First Presbyterian Church.

Brochures with schedules will be available throughout the village. For information, go to the website at snm@societyfornewmusic.org.

CORTLAND REPERTORY THEATRE

Tribute concerts, shows for children, musical plays and Shakespeare fill a six-program season at Cortland Repertory Theatre’s Pavilion Theater at Little York Lake. Actors will perform on an outdoor stage 12 feet from the first row of the audience so the actors do not need to be masked. No tickets will be sold at the door; no single tickets will be sold. Purchases must be made in advance in lots of two, three or four. Program information and bios will be online, and the refreshment tent will be open only before curtain time.

What: Nine outdoor performances in repertory

When:

“Pirate Schmirate!” July 8 – 11 at noon

“Close To You” July 8, 9 at 7:30 p.m. and July 10 at 3 and 7:30 p.m.

“The Honky Tonk Angles” July 15 – 23 (July 18 and 21 at 2 p.m.; others at 7:30 p.m.)

“The Wizard of Oz” July 16 and 17 at 10 a.m. and 2 pm. (drive through event)

The Adam Lee Decker Trio July 24 at 2 and 7:30 p.m.

“The Complete Works of July 28 – 31 at 7:30 p.m. with a 2 p.m. show July 30

William Shakespeare”

“Goin’ to the chapel” Aug. 5 – 13 (Aug. 6 and 8 at 2 p.m.; others at 7:30 p.m.)

“How Sweet it Is” Aug. 14 at 2 and 7:30 p.m., and Aug. 15 at 2 p.m.

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream” Aug. 19 – 21 at 7:30p.m. with a 2 p.m. show Aug.20

Tickets: Prices vary according to show, seating, and special discounts. Call 607-756-2627 or check the CRT website for details.

Where: Dwyer Memorial Park, 6799 Little York Lake Rd., Prebble.

GLIMMERGLASS FESTIVAL

In a nod to the pandemic season, “Glimmerglass on the Grass” has a new outdoor stage and offers audience seating in “Festival Squares.” Each socially distanced space accommodates four people. Purchaser must pay for the entire square and provide low-back chair or blanket for lawn seating. Masks are required except when in that designated space, where patrons can also eat food from home or local takeout. No food will be sold on site; bathrooms will be open.

What: Six 90-minute opera and musical productions in repertoire

When: “The Magic Flute” July 15 – Aug. 17

“To The world” July 16 – Aug. 8

“Songbird” July 30 – Aug. 13

“Il Trovatore” Aug. 1 – 14

“Gods and Mortals” Aug. 13 – 16

“The Passion of Mary Aug. 5 – 13

Cardwell Dawson”

Where: 7300 St. Highway 80, Cooperstown, New York

Tickets: Website or Box Office, 607-547-2255

Price: Festival Squares accommodate up to four people and sell for $80 to $350 each performance depending on which zone is chosen; must buy entire square.

Note: Details related to weather and refund/exchange policy are on the website. Covid protocols are explained on the website “FAQ” page.

OSWEGO PLAYERS THEATER

Founded in 1938, Oswego Players Theater continues its tradition of summer productions with a show that was ready to launch when the pandemic protocols closed all venues in 2020. With most of the cast returning, the troupe will stage the show in August.

A special invitational performance on Aug. 4 will raise funds for the Patrick Carman Joyful Heart Theater Scholarship.

Oswego Players’ Theater Arts Youth Academy will soon announce a summer schedule of activities for young people.

What: “Dearly Departed,” a comedy by David Bottrell and Jessie Jones

When: Aug. 6, 7; 13 and 14 at 7:30 p.m., and Aug. 8 and 15 at 2 p.m.

Where: Francis Marion Brown Theater at Fort Ontario, Oswego

Tickets: $15 adults; $10 students and seniors

Note: Free parking around the red brick building

SYRACUSE SHAKESPEARE IN THE PARK

Having wrapped up “Troilus and Cressida” with a sold-out show June 13, SSITP continues in the amphitheater of Thorndon Park with six August performances of “The Comedy Of Errors,” the bard’s tale of two sets of identical twins separated at birth. The reunion of the two aristocrats and their servants in the Greek city of Ephesus and the whimsical misadventures that ensue make this early play ideal for outdoor summer entertainment.

What: “The Comedy of Errors”

Where: Amphitheater of Thornden Park, Thornden Park Dr., Syracuse

When: Aug. 6 – 15, Friday and Saturday at 5:30 p.m.; Sundays, 2 p.m.

Tickets: Lawn seating is free, but must be reserved in advance at the SSITP website

Premium: For $30, patrons have reserved front seating and food vouchers.

Food: Beer Belly Deli and Gannon’s Isle will sell food on site; people may bring food

SKANEATELES FESTIVAL

An array of events will run from Aug. 3 through Aug. 28 at the Robinson Pavilion at Anyela’s Vineyards, the Mandana Barn, and locations to be announced.

Skanfest U, an instructional opportunity focusing on “Voices Unheard: Composers at the Margins” will be coordinated by Aaron Wunsch, faculty member at The Juilliard School and co-artistic director with his wife, Julia Bruskin, of the Skaneateles Festival. Those will run virtually Aug. 3, 10, 17 and 24, providing context for music to be performed during the festival.

Details of performances are online at skanfest.org and will be updated as the season evolves.

What: Skaneateles Festival’s 42nd season of music by the lake

When:

Dover Quartet Aug. 12 at 8 p.m.

Bill Charlap Trio Aug. 13 and 14 at 8 p.m.

“The Voice Within” Aug. 26 8 p.m.

Time For Three Aug. 27 and 28 at 8 p.m. (also a Kids matinee)

Tickets: Season passes cover four concerts and range from $125 to $175; Skanfest U is included. Saturday Series tickets cost $70 to $100. Single ticket prices are $30 to $60; two young people 18 and under may attend free with adult purchases in section B. Call 315-685-7418 for information about VIP seating and ticket upgrades.

SYMPHORIA

Outdoor concerts are part of the Symphoria tradition, and more events will be announced as communities and sponsors respond to the lifting of restrictions in New York State.

What: Central New York’s professional orchestra and ensembles

When and Where:

Wind Quintet July 9, 7 p.m. Lorenzo State Historic Site (chairs provided)

Chamber Music July 22, 8 p.m. Carol Watson Greenhouse

Orchestra July 23, 7 p.m. Fort Ontario

Orchestra July 24, 7:30 p.m. Beard Park, Fayetteville

Honor America Pops July 31, 8 p.m. Ft. Stanwix, Rome (Fireworks)

Tickets: Free; some concerts require registration before the event.

Details: experiencesymphoria.org for Covid protocols and ticket information

Seating: Outdoor; take blankets or low-back chairs for seating

THANASIS THEATRE COMPANY

New to the summer theater scene, this company will present its first production in July at the New York State Fairgrounds. Founder J. R. Westfall will direct; Ben Borenstein will be the music director. Written by Chris Miller and Nathan Tysen, the show will reveal six intersecting stories of characters who are each running away from something.

What: “Fugitive Songs”

Where: Empire Theater at the NYS Fair

When: July 23, 8 p.m. – July Aug. 1, 3 p.m.

Tickets: $28 for table seating; $18 general admission; discounts for senior citizens and students.

Details: Anyone under 16 must be accompanied by an adult. Call 315-395-9973 for information.

THE REV THEATRE CO.

(Formerly Merry-Go-Round)

A new name for Auburn’s historic Merry-Go-Round Playhouse, The Rev Theatre Co. continues to produce full-scale professional musical shows in the Preston H. Thomas Theater in Emerson Park. Three productions are programmed for 2021. According to the organization’s website, HVAC has been modified to produce continuing air flow and a purification system ensures optimum air quality for staff, actors and audience. See guidelines on the organization’s website for specific attendance requirements.

What: “Broadway in the Finger Lakes”

When: Check the website for times on the following dates:

“42nd Street” June 30 – July 28

“Footloose” Aug. 4 – Sept. 1

“Almost Heaven” Sept. 8 – 29

Where: Merry-Go-Round Playhouse, 6877 E. Lake Rd., Auburn

Tickets: Patrons are encouraged to purchase tickets prior to arrival. Single tickets cost $53 to $65; group rates available. For details, call 315-255-1785

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The Beatles: Get Back Documentary Series Poised to Challenge History

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Peter Jackson’s The Beatles: Get Back is now a docuseries. Three two-hour episodes will premiere November 25, 26, and 27 on Disney+. Coming out as another Thanksgiving offering, the documentary series carries a special historical weight. When The Beatles first appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show on February 9, 1964, they broke TV viewing records, with 73 million having watched it live. To be fair, television was the main source of entertainment at the time and there were only three networks.

But “even the criminals stayed home to watch,” George Harrison remembers in the three-part Beatles Anthology series, which premiered to 27.3 million viewers when the first episode aired on ABC on November 19, 1995.  The Beatles: Get Back’s opening is also being rolled out over three days. That’s because Jackson found over six hours of never-before-seen restored footage.

Jackson spent the past three years restoring and editing over 60 hours of unseen footage shot in January 1969, as well as over 150 hours of unheard audio. The stock comes from director Michael Lindsay-Hogg’s encapsulation of the band’s breakup, the 1970 film Let It Be. But Jackson sees a different story, focusing on the closeness of the friendship and creative encouragement of the band.

“In many respects, Michael Lindsay-Hogg’s remarkable footage captured multiple storylines,” Jackson said in a statement. “The story of friends and of individuals. It is the story of human frailties and of a divine partnership. It is a detailed account of the creative process, with the crafting of iconic songs under pressure, set amid the social climate of early 1969. But it’s not nostalgia – it’s raw, honest, and human. Over six hours, you’ll get to know The Beatles with an intimacy that you never thought possible.”

Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr, Yoko Ono Lennon, and Olivia Harrison agree with the three-time Oscar-winning filmmaker, endorsing the film enthusiastically. As does Bob Iger, the Executive Chairman and Chairman of the Board of The Walt Disney Company, who says the film “offers an unprecedented look at the close camaraderie, genius songwriting, and indelible impact of one of the most iconic and culturally influential bands of all time.”

Lindsay-Hogg shot Let It Be on 16 mm film, which was enlarged to 35mm film for theatrical release. Jackson is probably best known for  The Lord of the Rings trilogy, which the Beatles turned down, but for The Beatles: Get Back he used the same digital restoration techniques he employed for They Shall Not Grow Old, a World War I documentary told with remarkably restored footage.

The Beatles: Get Back is “the story of John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr as they plan their first live show in over two years, capturing the writing and rehearsing of 14 new songs, originally intended for release on an accompanying live album,” according to the advance press.

Jackson is the only person in 50 years to have been given access to these private film archives and has chosen to include the entire, uncut rooftop concert. The band only chose to perform their final lunchtime show atop London’s Savile Row at the last minute. The actual performance included a few different takes, as well as song snippets and impromptu comedy bits which were cut from the film. This will be the first time it is publicly available.

Besides the songs which made Let It Be, the new documentary captures early takes of songs which wound up on Abbey Road. If bootlegs of the sessions are any indication, it should also include versions of songs which wound up on solo albums after the group’s breakup.

The music is mixed by Giles Martin, the son of the Beatles’ producer George Martin, and Sam Okell. The collaboration includes an association with Apple Corps Ltd. and WingNut Films Productions Ltd. The Beatles: Get Back is produced or executive produced by Clare Olssen, Jonathan Clyde, Ken Kamins, and Apple Corps’ Jeff Jones.

But, like “Her Majesty” appears as a coda to the Beatles’ Abbey Road, there’s always more. In the lead-up to the debut, Apple Corps Ltd./Callaway Arts & Entertainment will release The Beatles: Get Back book. The 240-page hardcover comes out on 12 October 12. It includes transcriptions of The Beatles’ recorded conversations, as well as never before published photos from the recording sessions.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The Beatles: Get Back release date is November 25, 26, and 27, 2021, on Disney+.

The post The Beatles: Get Back Documentary Series Poised to Challenge History appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3wB0uAP

[reneeacaseyfl]

This Store Sells Only Chess-Related Products—With Hopes to Win Over Millennials

There is a slice of New York City that has remained virtually intact since the 1990s. It’s not a neighborhood or an avenue or a street. It’s not the sort of destination covered in trendy magazines that visitors are urged to explore. It’s not a club or a bar or a café but a quieter, more subtle, and certainly more authentic spot. It’s a store that has stood the test of time.

Walk into the Chess Forum on Thompson Street, and you will probably be greeted by an 8-year-old-boy of Asian descent, intently yet peacefully reading through a massive book filled with words and diagrams. Across from him, notice a chess board. The kid is playing himself.

“He comes every day from Chinatown,” says Imad Khachan, who opened the store back in 1995 and has been operating it ever since. “Two days ago, he was teaching a big fancy lady who works in technology—she was probably four, five times his age.”

An empty chess table on a rainy day in New York City’s Washington Square Park.

This culturally fluid New York still exists in pockets mostly made up of local residents on buses, in parks, and in bars. They’re hidden, washed out by the synergy and loudness of a city whose residents beg to keep up with the times. The Chess Forum is one of the last bastions of a society that was content in reveling in a simple concept: This is just a place to play chess. That temperament is evident today in the store’s decor, atmosphere, and incessant roster of personalities that walk in nightly: the Columbia professor who writes detective novels on the side, the anonymous Italian gentleman with a tattoo of a chess piece on his arm, and even the likes of musician Sting, whose manager, Khachan reports, has called the shop the singer’s “favorite in the world.”

But the store’s personality and heart find its rhythm in Khachan himself, a 54-year-old who fled Lebanon in 1982 to attend Damascus University and then landed a scholarship at New York University in 1987 to pursue a graduate degree. (“Fast-forward 30 years, and [people] are now escaping to Lebanon from Syria,” the owner says. “Nobody knows how life turns around.”)

In 1989, following a lead from his professor, Khachan found employment at the Village Chess Shop, a famous Village destination at the time, while working his way through a Ph.D. program that he eventually had to abandon, given the demands of his business.

Khachan claims that his former employer promised him the store in five years’ time. About six years in, the Village Chess Shop’s owner scoffed at the suggestion of a handoff.

Khachan recalls the next portion of his life in the same vein he discusses just about any topic, showcasing a deep religious faith and belief in the good fortune afforded to those who strive to live nobly and peacefully among others. Around 1995, noticing a “For Rent” sign just a few stores away from his employer’s, Khachan walked in and was immediately enthralled by the L-shaped space that remains intact today. As for his financials, Khachan again mentions his luck: “That same year, my father worked for the UN,” he explains. “They gave him a decent retirement plan. Basically, this is my father’s store.”

A man playing chess in Washington Square Park in Manhattan.

What ensued was what papers at the time dubbed the “civil war on Thompson Street.” After the opening of the Chess Forum, Khachan’s former employer sued him (Khachan eventually won), and the legal battles that followed unearthed a slew of stories about the origins and mechanics of each store—tales that Khachan is happy to discuss but don’t really get to the heart of what the Chess Forum is to New York today.

For a mere $5, adults (kids play for free) can spend the day playing or watching others play chess and backgammon at one of seven tables at the back of the store, which Khachan describes as “a saloon scene from a Western: Walk in and see who is the fastest gunman.”

What the few bucks will grant you is more than a front-row seat to some pretty exciting games. The Chess Forum is a casting call for unforgettable New Yorkers, including the superior chess players that take up residence daily at nearby Washington Square Park, which Khachan avoids (“It’s too ferocious for me”) but of which he appreciates the value. “They are the soul of chess in the city,” he says. “These people sit in the sun all day to make $40, $50. They give the city its image and get nothing out of it except their daily bread.”

When they visit his store, Khachan sometimes doesn’t charge them for the $20 plastic chess set they’re requesting. “It’s their livelihood,” he says. “A guy could also be waiting for me at the corner with a knife and take the set from me, but he’s trying to do in an honest way.”

Chess players in Washington Square Park in Greenwich Village. Backlit by the late afternoon sun, people focus on their chess games.

Although the romanticism surrounding the shop and Khachan’s disposition are invaluable assets to the city, meeting rent requires more than magic. The owner’s financial scheme involves all sorts of chess-related products that range in price “from $10 to $10,000.” These include a three-person board, chess clocks, and a slew of themed pieces. So renowned is Khachan’s expertise that celebrities have reached out to him to locate hard-to-find sets. When Hugh Grant was filming Two Weeks Notice in the city in the early 2000s, an associate of his asked the shop owner about a chess set featuring sex positions to play a prank on costar Sandra Bullock.

Needless to say, Khachan delivered.

While clearly a fan of the arts and philosophy, Khachan is, however, familiar with and grateful for the power of the Internet—and always has been. Back in 1995, he brought a computer into the store. “It was unheard-of,” he says. “It was unbelievable, hundreds of people on line outside of the door” to play against the machine, which eventually broke and was never replaced. Calling the web a blessing for the game of chess (and his own livelihood: He also sells his products online), Khachan fondly recalls the 1997 event that pitted Deep Blue—the IBM-developed, chess-playing computer—against Garry Kasparov, the reigning world champion. Deep Blue won.

It’s evident that not only does the Chess Forum welcome a rare breed of New Yorker, but it is actually owned by one such memorable personality—a fact not lost on Khachan himself. “This is the place,” he says when discussing his hopes for the future of the store. “New York is a city of deep intellect and substance. So my biggest worry is to have a city like this without a place like this, a place where the child and the senior, with nothing in common, meet. They sit at the chessboard, and they play.”

More must-read stories from Fortune:

—How new Nashville hotels are bucking the Airbnb trend

—How mezcal’s boom is helping lift its makers out of extreme poverty

—This distillery is releasing its oldest whisky yet–36 years after closing

—Eat oysters in New York City to help clean up the city’s waterways

—Listen to our new audio briefing, Fortune 500 Daily

Follow Fortune on Flipboard to stay up-to-date on the latest news and analysis.

Credit: Source link

The post This Store Sells Only Chess-Related Products—With Hopes to Win Over Millennials appeared first on WeeklyReviewer.

from WeeklyReviewer https://weeklyreviewer.com/this-store-sells-only-chess-related-products-with-hopes-to-win-over-millennials/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=this-store-sells-only-chess-related-products-with-hopes-to-win-over-millennials from WeeklyReviewer https://weeklyreviewer.tumblr.com/post/186444797832

[velmaemyers88]

This Store Sells Only Chess-Related Products—With Hopes to Win Over Millennials

There is a slice of New York City that has remained virtually intact since the 1990s. It’s not a neighborhood or an avenue or a street. It’s not the sort of destination covered in trendy magazines that visitors are urged to explore. It’s not a club or a bar or a café but a quieter, more subtle, and certainly more authentic spot. It’s a store that has stood the test of time.

Walk into the Chess Forum on Thompson Street, and you will probably be greeted by an 8-year-old-boy of Asian descent, intently yet peacefully reading through a massive book filled with words and diagrams. Across from him, notice a chess board. The kid is playing himself.

“He comes every day from Chinatown,” says Imad Khachan, who opened the store back in 1995 and has been operating it ever since. “Two days ago, he was teaching a big fancy lady who works in technology—she was probably four, five times his age.”

An empty chess table on a rainy day in New York City’s Washington Square Park.

This culturally fluid New York still exists in pockets mostly made up of local residents on buses, in parks, and in bars. They’re hidden, washed out by the synergy and loudness of a city whose residents beg to keep up with the times. The Chess Forum is one of the last bastions of a society that was content in reveling in a simple concept: This is just a place to play chess. That temperament is evident today in the store’s decor, atmosphere, and incessant roster of personalities that walk in nightly: the Columbia professor who writes detective novels on the side, the anonymous Italian gentleman with a tattoo of a chess piece on his arm, and even the likes of musician Sting, whose manager, Khachan reports, has called the shop the singer’s “favorite in the world.”

But the store’s personality and heart find its rhythm in Khachan himself, a 54-year-old who fled Lebanon in 1982 to attend Damascus University and then landed a scholarship at New York University in 1987 to pursue a graduate degree. (“Fast-forward 30 years, and [people] are now escaping to Lebanon from Syria,” the owner says. “Nobody knows how life turns around.”)

In 1989, following a lead from his professor, Khachan found employment at the Village Chess Shop, a famous Village destination at the time, while working his way through a Ph.D. program that he eventually had to abandon, given the demands of his business.

Khachan claims that his former employer promised him the store in five years’ time. About six years in, the Village Chess Shop’s owner scoffed at the suggestion of a handoff.

Khachan recalls the next portion of his life in the same vein he discusses just about any topic, showcasing a deep religious faith and belief in the good fortune afforded to those who strive to live nobly and peacefully among others. Around 1995, noticing a “For Rent” sign just a few stores away from his employer’s, Khachan walked in and was immediately enthralled by the L-shaped space that remains intact today. As for his financials, Khachan again mentions his luck: “That same year, my father worked for the UN,” he explains. “They gave him a decent retirement plan. Basically, this is my father’s store.”

A man playing chess in Washington Square Park in Manhattan.

What ensued was what papers at the time dubbed the “civil war on Thompson Street.” After the opening of the Chess Forum, Khachan’s former employer sued him (Khachan eventually won), and the legal battles that followed unearthed a slew of stories about the origins and mechanics of each store—tales that Khachan is happy to discuss but don’t really get to the heart of what the Chess Forum is to New York today.

For a mere $5, adults (kids play for free) can spend the day playing or watching others play chess and backgammon at one of seven tables at the back of the store, which Khachan describes as “a saloon scene from a Western: Walk in and see who is the fastest gunman.”

What the few bucks will grant you is more than a front-row seat to some pretty exciting games. The Chess Forum is a casting call for unforgettable New Yorkers, including the superior chess players that take up residence daily at nearby Washington Square Park, which Khachan avoids (“It’s too ferocious for me”) but of which he appreciates the value. “They are the soul of chess in the city,” he says. “These people sit in the sun all day to make $40, $50. They give the city its image and get nothing out of it except their daily bread.”

When they visit his store, Khachan sometimes doesn’t charge them for the $20 plastic chess set they’re requesting. “It’s their livelihood,” he says. “A guy could also be waiting for me at the corner with a knife and take the set from me, but he’s trying to do in an honest way.”

Chess players in Washington Square Park in Greenwich Village. Backlit by the late afternoon sun, people focus on their chess games.

Although the romanticism surrounding the shop and Khachan’s disposition are invaluable assets to the city, meeting rent requires more than magic. The owner’s financial scheme involves all sorts of chess-related products that range in price “from $10 to $10,000.” These include a three-person board, chess clocks, and a slew of themed pieces. So renowned is Khachan’s expertise that celebrities have reached out to him to locate hard-to-find sets. When Hugh Grant was filming Two Weeks Notice in the city in the early 2000s, an associate of his asked the shop owner about a chess set featuring sex positions to play a prank on costar Sandra Bullock.

Needless to say, Khachan delivered.

While clearly a fan of the arts and philosophy, Khachan is, however, familiar with and grateful for the power of the Internet—and always has been. Back in 1995, he brought a computer into the store. “It was unheard-of,” he says. “It was unbelievable, hundreds of people on line outside of the door” to play against the machine, which eventually broke and was never replaced. Calling the web a blessing for the game of chess (and his own livelihood: He also sells his products online), Khachan fondly recalls the 1997 event that pitted Deep Blue—the IBM-developed, chess-playing computer—against Garry Kasparov, the reigning world champion. Deep Blue won.

It’s evident that not only does the Chess Forum welcome a rare breed of New Yorker, but it is actually owned by one such memorable personality—a fact not lost on Khachan himself. “This is the place,” he says when discussing his hopes for the future of the store. “New York is a city of deep intellect and substance. So my biggest worry is to have a city like this without a place like this, a place where the child and the senior, with nothing in common, meet. They sit at the chessboard, and they play.”

More must-read stories from Fortune:

—How new Nashville hotels are bucking the Airbnb trend

—How mezcal’s boom is helping lift its makers out of extreme poverty

—This distillery is releasing its oldest whisky yet–36 years after closing

—Eat oysters in New York City to help clean up the city’s waterways

—Listen to our new audio briefing, Fortune 500 Daily

Follow Fortune on Flipboard to stay up-to-date on the latest news and analysis.

Credit: Source link

The post This Store Sells Only Chess-Related Products—With Hopes to Win Over Millennials appeared first on WeeklyReviewer.

from WeeklyReviewer https://weeklyreviewer.com/this-store-sells-only-chess-related-products-with-hopes-to-win-over-millennials/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=this-store-sells-only-chess-related-products-with-hopes-to-win-over-millennials from WeeklyReviewer https://weeklyreviewer.tumblr.com/post/186444797832

[weeklyreviewer]

This Store Sells Only Chess-Related Products—With Hopes to Win Over Millennials

There is a slice of New York City that has remained virtually intact since the 1990s. It’s not a neighborhood or an avenue or a street. It’s not the sort of destination covered in trendy magazines that visitors are urged to explore. It’s not a club or a bar or a café but a quieter, more subtle, and certainly more authentic spot. It’s a store that has stood the test of time.

Walk into the Chess Forum on Thompson Street, and you will probably be greeted by an 8-year-old-boy of Asian descent, intently yet peacefully reading through a massive book filled with words and diagrams. Across from him, notice a chess board. The kid is playing himself.

“He comes every day from Chinatown,” says Imad Khachan, who opened the store back in 1995 and has been operating it ever since. “Two days ago, he was teaching a big fancy lady who works in technology—she was probably four, five times his age.”

An empty chess table on a rainy day in New York City’s Washington Square Park.

This culturally fluid New York still exists in pockets mostly made up of local residents on buses, in parks, and in bars. They’re hidden, washed out by the synergy and loudness of a city whose residents beg to keep up with the times. The Chess Forum is one of the last bastions of a society that was content in reveling in a simple concept: This is just a place to play chess. That temperament is evident today in the store’s decor, atmosphere, and incessant roster of personalities that walk in nightly: the Columbia professor who writes detective novels on the side, the anonymous Italian gentleman with a tattoo of a chess piece on his arm, and even the likes of musician Sting, whose manager, Khachan reports, has called the shop the singer’s “favorite in the world.”

But the store’s personality and heart find its rhythm in Khachan himself, a 54-year-old who fled Lebanon in 1982 to attend Damascus University and then landed a scholarship at New York University in 1987 to pursue a graduate degree. (“Fast-forward 30 years, and [people] are now escaping to Lebanon from Syria,” the owner says. “Nobody knows how life turns around.”)

In 1989, following a lead from his professor, Khachan found employment at the Village Chess Shop, a famous Village destination at the time, while working his way through a Ph.D. program that he eventually had to abandon, given the demands of his business.

Khachan claims that his former employer promised him the store in five years’ time. About six years in, the Village Chess Shop’s owner scoffed at the suggestion of a handoff.

Khachan recalls the next portion of his life in the same vein he discusses just about any topic, showcasing a deep religious faith and belief in the good fortune afforded to those who strive to live nobly and peacefully among others. Around 1995, noticing a “For Rent” sign just a few stores away from his employer’s, Khachan walked in and was immediately enthralled by the L-shaped space that remains intact today. As for his financials, Khachan again mentions his luck: “That same year, my father worked for the UN,” he explains. “They gave him a decent retirement plan. Basically, this is my father’s store.”

A man playing chess in Washington Square Park in Manhattan.

What ensued was what papers at the time dubbed the “civil war on Thompson Street.” After the opening of the Chess Forum, Khachan’s former employer sued him (Khachan eventually won), and the legal battles that followed unearthed a slew of stories about the origins and mechanics of each store—tales that Khachan is happy to discuss but don’t really get to the heart of what the Chess Forum is to New York today.

For a mere $5, adults (kids play for free) can spend the day playing or watching others play chess and backgammon at one of seven tables at the back of the store, which Khachan describes as “a saloon scene from a Western: Walk in and see who is the fastest gunman.”

What the few bucks will grant you is more than a front-row seat to some pretty exciting games. The Chess Forum is a casting call for unforgettable New Yorkers, including the superior chess players that take up residence daily at nearby Washington Square Park, which Khachan avoids (“It’s too ferocious for me”) but of which he appreciates the value. “They are the soul of chess in the city,” he says. “These people sit in the sun all day to make $40, $50. They give the city its image and get nothing out of it except their daily bread.”

When they visit his store, Khachan sometimes doesn’t charge them for the $20 plastic chess set they’re requesting. “It’s their livelihood,” he says. “A guy could also be waiting for me at the corner with a knife and take the set from me, but he’s trying to do in an honest way.”

Chess players in Washington Square Park in Greenwich Village. Backlit by the late afternoon sun, people focus on their chess games.

Although the romanticism surrounding the shop and Khachan’s disposition are invaluable assets to the city, meeting rent requires more than magic. The owner’s financial scheme involves all sorts of chess-related products that range in price “from $10 to $10,000.” These include a three-person board, chess clocks, and a slew of themed pieces. So renowned is Khachan’s expertise that celebrities have reached out to him to locate hard-to-find sets. When Hugh Grant was filming Two Weeks Notice in the city in the early 2000s, an associate of his asked the shop owner about a chess set featuring sex positions to play a prank on costar Sandra Bullock.

Needless to say, Khachan delivered.

While clearly a fan of the arts and philosophy, Khachan is, however, familiar with and grateful for the power of the Internet—and always has been. Back in 1995, he brought a computer into the store. “It was unheard-of,” he says. “It was unbelievable, hundreds of people on line outside of the door” to play against the machine, which eventually broke and was never replaced. Calling the web a blessing for the game of chess (and his own livelihood: He also sells his products online), Khachan fondly recalls the 1997 event that pitted Deep Blue—the IBM-developed, chess-playing computer—against Garry Kasparov, the reigning world champion. Deep Blue won.

It’s evident that not only does the Chess Forum welcome a rare breed of New Yorker, but it is actually owned by one such memorable personality—a fact not lost on Khachan himself. “This is the place,” he says when discussing his hopes for the future of the store. “New York is a city of deep intellect and substance. So my biggest worry is to have a city like this without a place like this, a place where the child and the senior, with nothing in common, meet. They sit at the chessboard, and they play.”

More must-read stories from Fortune:

—How new Nashville hotels are bucking the Airbnb trend

—How mezcal’s boom is helping lift its makers out of extreme poverty

—This distillery is releasing its oldest whisky yet–36 years after closing

—Eat oysters in New York City to help clean up the city’s waterways

—Listen to our new audio briefing, Fortune 500 Daily

Follow Fortune on Flipboard to stay up-to-date on the latest news and analysis.

Credit: Source link

The post This Store Sells Only Chess-Related Products—With Hopes to Win Over Millennials appeared first on WeeklyReviewer.

from WeeklyReviewer https://weeklyreviewer.com/this-store-sells-only-chess-related-products-with-hopes-to-win-over-millennials/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=this-store-sells-only-chess-related-products-with-hopes-to-win-over-millennials