#various venues and bars but they’re the main ones if that makes sense

[scottishstoner]

3 straight days of work starting tomorrow at the Hilton, then next week I’m booked in for waiting shifts there again for a couple days and hopefully I’ll get shifts at this other fancy place I done waiting shifts at before next week too coz it’s cool working there and I need the shifts lol

Is it sad I’m excited to work lol? I haven’t worked since the 6th and I’m so use to a busy schedule with work I’ve been kinda going crazy lmfao

[gastricpierrot]

Title: Ships in the Night 

Series: Genshin Impact

Relationship: ZhongVen

Rating: T

Summary:

Barbatos had always wanted to enjoy a Ludi Harpastum with Morax, making so many empty promises with him over the years to go together one day. A festival of fun and games close to his own heart, it’s a change of pace he always thought Morax could appreciate. They finally manage this after all these centuries, yet Barbatos just had to be an idiot at the very end.

He rests his arm over his eyes, exhaling a slow breath. He's such an idiot.

Also on AO3

--------------------------

The sheer idea of festivities lasting two whole weeks sounds absolutely exhausting to Morax, yet even at the peak of the Ludi Harpastum, Mondstadt’s people do not seem like they are slowing down anytime soon.

Morax’s tugged along by the cuff of his sleeve, Barbatos in the lead as they weave their way through the packed streets. Songs and cheer fill the air, mingled with the scents of various food, flowers, and of course, the city’s beloved wine. Barbatos himself is already tipsy despite it still being rather early in the day, having downed almost every pint of free alcohol that’s offered to him by the countless vendors they come across. There's an occasional stumble in his steps, but his spirits remain high as he shows Morax around with wholehearted excitement, a bright grin across his lips, a lively blush on his cheeks.

Morax finds the myriad of sensations dizzying, too many sights and sounds and scents bombarding him all at once—and he holds on to Barbatos’ presence for balance. Barbatos, in contrast, seems to harbour no such qualms, flitting from one booth to the next with ease, only pausing to look back when he finds something he wants to recommend. The apples from this store, the handcrafted trinkets from another, the freshly made Mora Meat from yet another one. He isn’t shy when it comes to haggling—even though Morax did remember to bring his wallet for once (much to Barbatos’ exaggerated horror) and he’s certain there would be enough between them to last the day—but it seems to be a normal occurrence to the vendors. Morax watches their good-humored banters, sees how comfortable Barbatos is around these parts and in these situations.

It’s clear how much he loves Mondstadt, and how much he is loved in return.

They spend the rest of the afternoon like this, navigating the packed streets, Barbatos showing him his favorite spots, stopping only for the occasional breathers and snacks. Mondstadt’s festivals have a very different atmosphere to them compared to those back in Liyue, unique in a way Morax can’t exactly pinpoint. Rowdier, perhaps, with the people more comfortable when it comes to mingling with strangers. Morax has lost count of the number of times he’s been randomly approached to be given some sort of gift, or to be invited for meals or gatherings he politely declines. Perhaps the community here is simply tighter knit as a whole, as compared to the more family-centric people of Liyue.

Barbatos leads him to a park at some point, declaring it’ll be their last stop before he has to prepare for a performance after sunset. Morax notices how it’s mainly families and children in this area, not a single wine vendor in sight. There are booths for games instead, where players will have the chance to earn various prizes if they win. Each is packed with groups of youngsters, all vying for the best toys on offer. Shrill, excited voices cheered and jeered at one another; in a way inciting even more chaos here compared to the people crowding the market lanes.

“Why don’t you give one a try? Even adults are allowed to play, you know,” Barbatos suggests when Morax stops to watch a child’s attempt at a game of throwing hoops over cups marked with numbers. Morax glances at him, sees his wayward smile.

“I don't think it’d be fair to the young ones if I did,” he says, to which Barbatos only barks out a laugh.

“Show off,” he retorts, and even Morax cracks a smile.

“Um, excuse me.”

They’re just about to continue on their way when a voice calls out to them. Morax turns around, not seeing anyone until it occurs to him to look down. A lone young girl stares at him wide-eyed from below, a messy flower crown clutched tightly in her hands.

“Mister, please have this!” She offers the item to him, her words slightly rushed from her enthusiasm. Morax has turned down countless gifts throughout the day, but this time, at least, he knows better than to needlessly upset a child.

So he kneels down to be a little closer to eye-level with her. “It is an honor to receive your gift.”

She stretches out her arms, and Morax tips his head to let her crown him.

The child giggles in delight as she steps back. “You really are like a prince, mister! Bye-bye!”

Morax watches her run back to her parents a little way off, warmth blossoming in his chest as he waves his own farewell to her. He gets back on his feet, and finds Barbatos looking at him with an expression he’s never seen him wear.

“It suits you,” he says, like he actually means it rather than the usual sarcasm Morax’s expected he would go for. He supposes he must be quite the sight, a full-grown adult with a falling-apart flower crown perching lopsided atop his head.

“It probably suits you more, Bar—” he stops himself just in time, remembering that they’re here only as humans and nothing more, and that they should at least make a bit of effort to keep up appearances. Though, it's not like anyone within their vicinity would actually be paying attention.

“Venti,” he tries anyway, and immediately breaks into a frown. The name still feels strange on his tongue, no matter how much he’s tried to practice saying it.

“Gods, it does feel weird hearing you call me that,” Barbatos admits with a slight wince, but Morax could somewhat tell that he appreciates it, nonetheless. It's the way his features brighten at the sound of it, the way his eyes would light up ever so slightly. It is, after all, a name bestowed upon him by a beloved friend many years ago. Barbatos has not been called such for a long time. “But yeah, no, you should keep that. Have some fun, let loose a little!”

Morax doesn’t exactly see how wearing flowers in his hair contributes to “letting loose”, but he doesn’t argue.

They have time to go grab something for dinner just as dusk falls, and then Barbatos is bringing him to what he claims to be one of the main final highlights of the Ludi Harpastum: an event of all night drinking and fireworks. There are several spots around the city hosting such sessions, all offering endless streams of food and alcohol sponsored by Mondstadt’s major wineries. Barbatos will be performing in the one held at the city square—the main place, he boasts—first of the few bards invited there to further enliven the mood.

Dozens of chairs and tables are set up across the open space, most already packed with people by the time they get there. There’s a small stage at the very front, the sides of the venue lined with booths in charge of the food and drinks. Waiting staff donning bright uniforms dart from table to table, expertly weaving their way around the already half-intoxicated crowd.

It’s almost overwhelming; the energy, the pungent scent of food and strong wine, the sheer rowdiness of the people gathered around. Morax stops by a convenient tree a respectable distance away from the square, just far enough that the chances of a random drunkard stumbling over and dragging him in would be minimal.

And “I think I’ll stay here,” he says, when Barbatos turns to him with raised eyebrows.

“Don’t want to join in?” he asks, despite Morax’s answer already being obvious.

“I’m sure I can enjoy the atmosphere well enough from here.”

“Hmm, fair enough.” Barbatos shrugs after a quick gauge of the distance between them and the heart of the event. Then he smiles, hands on his hips. “Anyway. I’ll get going first, then. I’ll come find you when I’m done?”

“If I haven’t already left,” Morax says, because he genuinely does not know how much of this unbridled revelry he can tolerate. Even now, part of him wants nothing more than to walk off and find somewhere quiet to wind down for the rest of the evening.

Of course, his statement immediately gets Barbatos whining. “At least wait for me!!!”

“Just go before you’re late.” Morax shoos him off, though he doubts anyone present currently retains even the slightest sense of time.

“Fine, fine!” Barbatos relents, cheeks still puffed, “but I’m going to throw rocks at you if you really leave without me, alright?”

Morax halfheartedly assures he can throw as many rocks at him as he wants if it comes to it, then with a sudden rush of wind and a final harrumph, Barbatos turns on his heels and strides towards the stage, his people cheering his name the moment they spot him.

“Looking forward to what you have for us tonight, Venti!”

“Venti you rascal, you really made us wait this time!”

“Venti, you’re looking lovely as ever!”

Venti, Venti.

The descent of a god, unknown to his own people.

Barbatos takes his seat on the single stool placed on the stage, crossing his legs just so, his posture relaxed yet brimming with elegance. The wind carries the sounds of his lyre all the way to where Morax stands, clear and proud amidst the endless chatter of the crowd. He begins with a slow tune, a moment of calm cutting through the chaos. Demanding attention.

Quiet. Listen.

Morax too, catches himself holding his breath.

And then Barbatos strums another note and smoothly transitions into a new tune, and the crowd explodes with excitement. His next song matches more to the barely suppressed merriment around him, its melody upbeat and festive. He’s skilled at involving his audience, easily encouraging them to sing and dance along. Charming, radiant. He captivates all who behold him—even Morax, despite such genre of music never being to his tastes. It’s a rather belated realization to come to, but seeing him fully in his element like this, Morax can tell that Barbatos’ boastings indeed hold their weight, and that he truly has mastered the craft of a bard.

Barbatos leaves the stage around the middle of his fourth song, slipping into the crowd as he continues his performance. He sings and twirls and dances, one with his people—and somehow still, Morax spots him managing to down some drinks in between. His current song involves a back and forth; he sings one line, then prompting the nearest person to follow up. It seems to be a piece everyone’s wholly familiar with, all who enthusiastically join in barely stumbling on their turn.

Morax notices too, after a few minutes of observation, that it also seems to be endless; constantly looping around the chorus. He wouldn’t put it past Barbatos for doing this deliberately, for as long as it continued, he could drink.

And he does drink. He drinks so much that it’s almost impressive, since he only has a few seconds at a time to gulp down his alcohol. Morax wrinkles his nose from afar, already dreading the stench he would exude when he returns later.

Morax doesn’t see it, at first. He can pinpoint Barbatos’ general location based on the reaction of the people and when he hops onto benches and tables for some elevation, but he’s partly obscured from his sight most of the time. It’s only as Barbatos makes his way further towards the back of the crowd, closer to where Morax stands, that he notices how else some members of his audience interact with him.

People who take advantage of the general unruliness of a large-scale drinking session in a packed area, hands that touch places past normal boundaries. His thighs, his back, his neck.

Barbatos does not falter, either too immersed in his own performance or too intoxicated to realize and care. Or perhaps he is simply used to this, having been a bard for as long as he’d been a god. Morax does not know.

Fire flares in his stomach the longer he watches, filling his mouth with a bitter taste. It is truly an uncomfortable sight. Intoxication is not consent, nor is silence. Morax could not stand it for long, reaching for the flower crown on his head and tossing it aside before striding toward where Barbatos is lingering within the crowd.

He grabs a person by the wrist and wrenches their hand away from Barbatos, his grip hard enough to make them cry out. Barbatos must’ve heard the commotion, turning at the sound and eyes widening in surprise when he sees Morax right there behind him.

Morax glares at him—a misdirection of his anger, he admits—but he only breaks into a satisfied grin, and finally decides to move his song along. He leaps onto the nearest table, feet stepping delicately between the many glass mugs piled across its surface. His tune reaching a crescendo, his finale presented with flourish.

His audience, quite literally, erupts into cheers and applause.

Barbatos half stumbles down from the table amidst the cacophony of the reception, Morax moving to catch him just as his knees buckle beneath him and he loses his balance. He's trembling, his forehead visibly damp with sweat.

And before Morax can properly help him get back on his feet, he throws up all over his sleeve.

xXx

Barbatos supposes his age must finally be catching up to him.

Or perhaps he’d simply overestimated himself, thinking that participating in the Ludi Harpastum’s all-night drink session wouldn’t be too different from his usual gigs, only with a little more people.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have stepped off the stage in the first place, shouldn’t have danced quite so hard, and should’ve saved the drinking until after his performance ended. The lack of air, the thick haze of human odour mixed with the saccharine scent of alcohol, his own sweeping movements—Barbatos had not expected them to combine into an experience quite so nauseating, even for a god.

He vaguely remembers throwing up once more while Morax carried him somewhere, then a third time in a washroom he didn’t recognize. Then he draws a blank after that.

He stirs to find himself on a bed, his clothes replaced with a set of loose cotton pajamas and his body smelling faintly of floral soap. His head throbs with a dull ache, but he figures he’s seen worse days. More than anything, he feels dehydrated, his lips dry and throat like sandpaper. He braces his palms against the mattress, and slowly pushes himself upright.

He's in a dimly lit room, probably one in an inn not too far off from the venue of the drink fest. He hears the sounds of running water from behind the door opposite the bed; Morax is probably there cleaning up after the mess Barbatos made. There’s a jug on the bedstand, a fresh glass of water already poured out for him. Barbatos’ chest warms as he reaches for it, endeared by how fastidious Morax remains, despite everything.

He returns to lying down a little later, admittedly just a little bitter at how things have turned out. He’s had such an amazing day. He'd always wanted to enjoy a Ludi Harpastum with Morax, making so many empty promises with him over the years to go together one day. A festival of fun and games close to his own heart, it’s a change of pace he always thought Morax could appreciate, since he’s constantly at work. They finally manage this after all these centuries, yet Barbatos just had to be an idiot at the very end.

He rests his arm over his eyes, exhaling a slow breath. He's such an idiot.

The sounds of the shower eventually come to a stop, leaving a ringing sort of silence in their absence. The ruckus of the ongoing party not far off carries all the way to their window; people laughing, cheering, singing. Fireworks bursting in the sky.

He'd wanted to show Morax the fireworks too, damn it.

He lowers his arm and turns when he hears Morax stepping out of the bathroom. He’s wearing a similar set of pajamas as himself, though admittedly it looks so out of place on him that Barbatos almost lets out a snort.

“Hey,” he greets, because he’s genuinely not sure how else he should start. Morax meets his gaze from behind his damp fringe, his face betraying no particular emotion.

“Hey,” he returns, every bit as curt. Barbatos cracks a lopsided smile, and decides there’s no point trying to go around it.

“Listen, Morax, I’m so sorry things ended up like this,” he says, twisting to lie on his side facing him. Morax doesn’t respond to that immediately, and neither does Barbatos see much of a change in his expression.

“Barbatos, how many times do you think I've had to handle your drunk antics over the years?”

Barbatos winces at that. “Now you’re making me feel even worse.”

“You should,” Morax agrees, running a towel over his damp hair. “It’s about time you realize how self-centered and inconsiderate and – “

“Okay, okay, I get it!!” Barbatos interjects before his feelings are actually hurt. “I’m sorry!”

Morax only shoots him a meaningful look and says nothing else, knowing at the end of the day he’d do it all over again anyway. Barbatos supposes he can’t blame him; he’s more aware than anyone that he’s been the way he is for more than a millennium, never once giving even the slightest indication that he would change.

Maybe it’s time he considers, after all that’s happened today, but he decides he’ll mull over that some other time.

His eyes follow Morax as he steps away to hang his towel on a rack, his confusion growing when Morax proceeds to stand rooted in place, frowning slightly and arms crossed as though deep in thought. Barbatos stares at him for a solid couple of minutes before speaking up.

“What are you doing?”

“Thinking about what I should do next,” Morax answers, in all seriousness. Barbatos can’t believe this man is for real. He bursts into laughter, earning himself a puzzled look.

“You really don’t know what ‘rest’ means, do you?” he marvels, then scooting closer against the wall and patting the empty spot before him. “Come here and lie down, we’ve been up and about the entire day. Aren’t you tired?”

Morax’s frown deepens by a fraction. “But I don’t think there’s sp-”

“There’s more than enough space for the both of us!” Barbatos assures, chest light with newfound mirth. Morax really is too much of a gentleman at times. “This bed’s huge!”

Morax remains hesitant for a moment longer, but with just a little more gentle pestering, he relents in the end. “Then, if I may.”

Barbatos watches as he moves to take the space beside him, watches the way his long hair falls over his shoulders, the way the collar of his shirt shifts to reveal the hollow of his throat, a small window of his chest.

Morax fully lies down, and Barbatos realizes there really is just enough space for them to stay still like this. Huh. Has Morax always been such a big person? Or maybe the bed really isn’t that wide to begin with, and whatever alcohol lingering within his system is just messing with his perception of space. Not that it matters at this point. Morax still smells fresh from his shower, his uncharacteristically messy hair and comfortable clothes giving him an air of innocence Barbatos never expected to see on him. Unguarded, youthful. They’re a mere half-arm's length apart, close enough that Barbatos can almost feel his every exhale of breath.

“So how did you find the Ludi Harpastum?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper, perhaps part of him being rather conscious about the little distance between them. Did it live up to the expectations he set for him by constantly inviting him to one over the years, he wonders? Did Morax at least enjoy himself a little with all the festivities? Barbatos noticed he’d mostly followed his lead, trying the many things he’d recommended to him, visiting only the places he brings him. Barely making many choices for himself. It’s too late at this point, yet Barbatos still worries about being overbearing without meaning to. Could Morax really have had fun without as much as a freedom of decision?

“It was...” Morax trails off ominously, pausing to weigh his words while Barbatos braces himself for the continuation. “Different, I suppose.”

“A good different or a bad one?”

“Just different,” Morax affirms. “It certainly feels livelier than the celebrations in Liyue.”

“Then,” Barbatos perks up, a little more hopeful now with the way Morax has responded so far. “What did you like most?”

Morax hums to that, silent in a moment of contemplation. “If I were to choose, I quite enjoyed some of the places we visited.”

He goes on to recall the few locations he’d found a liking to, admiring the history and cultural significance of each that Barbatos had explained to him, the various architectural designs and artistic liberties that define Mondstadt’s trademarks. The motifs of the cobbled streets, the poems framed and hung inside windmills serving as charms for Barbatos’ blessings, even the theme of the patterns carved on many a doorplate—Morax seems to have been quite fascinated by them.

He wears a different expression when he talks about the things that strikes his fancy. A slight upturn of his lips, the faintest crinkles at the corner of his eyes. Even his voice adopts a different tone, laced with a smallest hint of excitement—perhaps even joy, because someone cares to listen.

Barbatos could listen to him like this for an eternity, if he had the chance.

“You’re staring at me,” Morax stops to say at some point, a slight knit across his brow. Barbatos supposes he must be wearing quite the expression, for him to look at him like that. But he could not help it; after all, who wouldn’t be utterly captivated by someone as quietly radiant as this god before him?

“I think I'm in love with you, Morax.”

Are the words that take form, a confession he’s surely taken long enough to make. He no longer even remembers when was the first time it’d dawned him, that his feelings for Morax had progressed into something that wasn’t platonic. How many years has it been since he started seeing him with a different sort of admiration, with the barely suppressible urge of wanting to be closer to him?

Morax blinks at him once, twice. Processing what he’s just heard; understandable, as it really had come out of nowhere.

Then he averts his gaze, reaching to cover his mouth as a wave of red creeps up his entire face.

“Why don’t you tell me that again when you’re sober?” he mumbles into his hand, and Barbatos effectively short-circuits for a moment.

“This is the most sober I’ve been all day, though???”

Morax is adamant, shifting to turn away from him as though to physically end the conversation. “That’s what a drunk person would say. Now stop talking and go back to sleep.”

“No, no, no, isn’t this a little sudden?? Morax??” Barbatos is half laughing now, seeing how desperately Morax is trying to deal with his own embarrassment. It is surprisingly contagious, though; even he’s starting to feel a little shy the longer he badgers him.

“Morax?? Heyyy, Morax? Rex Lapis?”

And yet he refuses to let it stop him. He can see how red Morax’s ears are even from behind him like this. Barbatos pokes at his back, a mix of fondness and mischief welling in his chest when the idea occurs to him.

He squirms forward, closing the little distance between them.

“Zhongli.”

Morax tenses at that, the slightest reaction that Barbatos would’ve missed if he as much as blinked. He's...really cute when he’s like this. Part of Barbatos refuses to believe that this is happening. Morax, the Geo Archon, the honourable Rex Lapis, Adepti Prime—has this absurdly adorable side to him.

“Zhongli,” Barbatos dares to say again, just to see what other sort of response he could elicit from him. “Zhongli.”

He leans out of the way just in time before Morax twists to face him once more, bracing himself for a well-deserved smack—but is instead pulled into a tight embrace.

“You’re so obnoxious,” Morax says, his exasperation obvious even in his quiet tone. Barbatos smiles as he returns the hug with just a much intensity, leaning into their contact with a sigh, a swell of his heart.

Morax is much warmer than he could’ve ever imagined.  

xXx

They say that both the Geo and Anemo Archons are fond of disguising as humans, often descending from their divine residence in Celestia to mingle with the commonfolk of their respective nations.

No one knows what are their preferred appearances, as oftentimes they are indistinguishable from the everyday person. No one knows if they preferred to present as men or women or even children, or if the rumours of them taking human form even hold any truth. After all, who’s to say they wouldn’t choose to appear as an animal, a sprite, or perhaps a fragment of the elements they embody?

Not many in the nations of Liyue and Mondstadt have ever had the chance to see their respective gods, nor to realize that they’ve lain eyes upon them at all. It is something the people have accepted to simply leave up to chance, as there is no point to obsessing over the miniscule possibility of coming face to face with the deity they worship. There are enough mundane things worth paying attention to on the daily; the clarity of the skies, the specials available in the markets, the trees newly bearing fruit.

A particular sight has grown more common as well within the borders of the two neighbouring nations in recent years, one of a pair often spotted strolling together through the busy city streets, the bustling villages, and even the vast wilderness, when the weather is agreeable.

Should one have their stars aligned just right, they may just chance upon a certain bard and gentleman, both usually engrossed in jovial chatter or some lighthearted bickering no matter the location. Oddly out of place sometimes, seeming right at home the rest. Greet them if you wish, and they would usually respond warmly in return. But take heed, at times you may notice their hands linked and fingers intertwined, the pair lost in a world of their own—and that will be your sign to give space, for even gods would appreciate a little time to themselves.

[theliterarywolf]

Character huh? Seeing as we know the least about him, Saraj.

***

Wait.

What happened last night?

Suraj opened his eyes to a bleary view of a pearly blue ceiling. A sniff of the air told him told him he was in Aquacia though, admittedly, the potent scent of saltwater colliding with pristine freshwater was overtaken the slightest bit by the scent of sex in the room he was in.

“Wha – Ah, shit...” He sat up with a hand to his head, right between his horns and careful of his claws. Already with the hangover? “What did I do last night?”

From his left, the curvy body of a white-haired lamia girl slithered up close. “Mm..? What'sss wrong, baby?”

Suraj yawned, trying to reacquaint his addled mind with the fangs in his mouth, “Nothing, I--”

“Is everything alright?” That came from the mink-beastfolk girl on his right: her sleek black fur catching the room's limited light.

Suraj gave a slow nod, “Yeah, I'm --”

From behind the rakshasa, a dullahan held her head over his shoulder. “Did you need a little 'hair of the dog'?”

“No, no,” Suraj shook his head, “I just --”

From underneath the covers, right between Suraj's legs, a twink of an orc peeked out and grinned, “You wanna go one more time? For the road?”

Suraj only groaned again: memories of the previous night meshing with the post-orgy regret and the morning-after hangover.

Suraj, cleaned and showered, stumbled out of the hotel room. As fine as he looked, with everything cleaned, brushed, and swept, he was still being done up the ass sans lube from his hangover.

“Bye~!” The lamia, beastfolk girl, dullahan, and orc coquettishly waved him off as he spread those bat-like wings and started on his way.

Fuck, but the sounds of Aquacia's many waterways didn't do anything for his pounding head or his sour mouth. He huffed and kept flapping. “Wait, wait, wait!” He dragged to a stop in mid-air and fished around his pockets for something. “Come on... Come on!” It was a miracle he had made it this far without an incident. His entire body relaxed upon feeling them. In quick, practice motions he placed one in each ear and immediately felt at ease when all noise was snuffed out. “Okay.” He nodded, waiting for a large amphithere to sweep through the skies so he could catch the jet-stream it produced. Whatever he could do to make his trip to the ShimmerGale/Ignis Fanis boundary-line, the better it would be for him.

There were certain... aspects to life in Dama Fristad that nonhumans knew about and embraced in silence while humans ignored and feigned their nonexistence. These aspects were typically in harder to reach venues of the six districts. If one really wanted to enjoy their wares, then they knew the ordeals they were putting themselves through.

The ShimmerGale/Ignis Fanis boundary-line was such an ordeal. Suraj slowed his flight to a hover when he got close. Vines. Thick, corded, writhing. Some covered in thorns sharper than knives; others dotted in blooms that puffed out clouds of silvery pollen that, upon making contact with a beetle that had wandered too close, began to dissolve the creature's flesh instantly.

If it weren't for this hangover, Suraj would have just said 'fuck it' and headed back to 1685 Blightblossom Lane. As it was, the rakshasa counted under his breath, “Forty-seven. Forty-six.”

The vines wound themselves tighter.

“Twenty-five. Twenty-four.”

With a tilt of the head, one could make out the remains of some poor bastard who had wandered too close.

“Nine. Eight.”

Suraj feinted backwards from the giant blossom that surged out from the walls of vines: pollen and sap dripping from its fanged petals. Suraj took a deep breath. “Two... One.”

The blossom reared back and screeched into the air. Suraj was doubly thankful for the buds in his ears that were blocking all noise, both pleasant and harsh. Once the din subsided, the blossom opened itself up so wide that Suraj was able to see what lay upon the other side. He streaked forward, making it through in one swift go before the blossom could recollect itself and the vines could tighten back up.

Suraj heaved and panted. “I hate that wall.” He shook his head and kept flying. Not much further now. He could see it from where he was: aged walls of brick with layers of uneven paint, orange-tinted windows, and a simple shade covering the door.

Inside of this small restaurant, an old Yaksha was wiping down the counter: the demon's green skin sweaty from a rough morning of chasing inventory. He smoothed down the curls of his golden beard, waggling his claw in a goofy way as he walked past the window. He had almost past it completely when he noticed Suraj outside.

He blinked.

And then doubled-back to the counter where a radio was playing. He promptly cut it off.

Suraj let out a sigh of relief and removed the buds from his ears before walking in: the tile warm against his talons.

“Suraj!” The yaksha's claws clicked over the tiles as he walked around the corner to meet the young rakshasa in a bruising hug.

“Lohith.” Suraj winced from the loud noise and the fact that his hangover hadn't gone anywhere, “Kaise ho?”

“Eh.” Lohith hopped back behind the counter, “Business is slow so early in the mornings. It's usually when I go to the Halls of Judgments and Repence for the auctions, but I'm still full up from last week.”

Suraj sat on a stool, striped tail swishing lazily. “Things'll pick up, I'm sure. Like right now – Ah!” He held his head and grit his interlocking fangs together. Lohith hummed,

“Ah, I know that sound. You young people and your partying... Well, Lohith's Khed Rogan Josh will knock it right out of you!”

That's what Suraj was hoping to hear. He was still wincing from the headache but, when he looked up from his claws, he saw a rosy cup of Lassi in front of him. Suraj picked up the frosty glass and knocked some back: the taste of banana, yogurt, various spices, and blood washing over his forked tongue. He set the glass down in favor of looking at his phone.

Did he hear the horrific screams from the kitchen? The wet thud of a butcher's knife into flesh? Smell the sizzling fat melding with curry and ginger and other melodic spices? Of course.

“They're already calling me into work?” Suraj groaned, “Come on...”

Was he really in the mood for a bunch of old harpies who didn't understand what an area-code was?

“Ah..! Here we are!” Lohith came out of the kitchen carrying a tray laden with steaming rice, fresh naan bread, and a hearty bowl of fiery spice in the form of braised chunks of meat and a thick stew made from kashmiri, garlic, and ginger.

Suraj waited for the tray to be set in front of him. “You are a lifesaver, Lohith.”

“Eh.” Lohith shrugged, “Lifesaver, lifetaker; it all comes round to each other. Go on: eat!”

The rakshasa rolled his eyes but he picked up a spoon to ladle some of the Khed Rogan Josh onto the plate of rice. He got a hearty spoonful and pressed it past his lips. Oh. Oh, there it was. What was it about the flesh of humans that allowed for their final, greatest emotions to sweeten or spice them to that unlatched perfection?

Khed Rogan Josh... Regret Rogan Josh. Suraj tore a piece of naan and nibbled at it in-between bites of his main meal. Thankfully enough, though, with every bite that he took, he felt his pounding head and his sour mouth recede further and further into the abyss.

Suraj glanced into the kitchen. Lohith had stolen away to wash his claws: thin streaks of fading red leeching into the bowl of the sink.

Suraj shrugged and kept eating.

He did have to think, though... What came first in the grand dance? Nonhumans eating humans for pleasure and health? Or nonhumans eating humans in retaliation?

And, yet, for every hunter or anti-nonhumanite who would look at Suraj there, eating the braised flesh of a human, and call for the death of all nonhumans... Surely there was a witch who yearned for humanity's decline after the Witch's Winter? Or a dragon who bore the scars of the Great Dragon Exodus?

Suraj shook his head and returned to his food. He was just one creature in this wide, chaotic world. Why was he thinking on heavy topics like that? Nay, he should be thinking about what made him drink so much last night. Not to mention what made him so ready and willing to jump into bed with a horny quartet.

“Damn it,” He sighed, “I don't even remember who came first.” Suraj took another bite. The assortment of spices in both his food and the lassi reminded him of home, th –

Oh.

Right.

He didn't have a home anymore.

Suraj closed his eyes, chewing around his latest mouthfullllllllllllll of fire! Everything was burning! He saw everything on fire, but he couldn't stop. Even with all of the shouts around him, he just! Couldn't! Stop!

Suraj stole a breath and came back to the present.

He looked around himself. Restaurant. ShimmerGale/Ignis Fanis divide. The Khed Rogan Josh. Suraj pinched the bridge of his nose, slowing his chewing to a crawl.

If it weren't for his shift later, he would go back to whatever bar had managed to dull his memories and senses last night.

[lys-iwm]

Fire Emblem Three houses Mafia!Au that no one asked for but you’re getting it anyways

For a game that hasn’t even released yet, we’re gonna be throwing them into a semi-modern mafia au where the Church of Seiros is an assassination/spy training organization with the cover of being an actual church for the goddess Seiros. The three countries of Fodlan (now the city in which this takes place) are the biggest most baddest mafia organizations that rule the underground of this city. 

This is long... so bear with me. (Also if you have questions feel free to send in an ask because I am currently in three houses hell)

Adrestian Empire/Black Eagles 

The biggest of the three mafia houses. 

They’re business revolves around the distribution of firearms/weapons and renting out assassins and bodyguards. 

They control half of the southern half of the city where the beach (this is a coastal city just go with it) is their main base of operation - or at least the large skyscrapers near it. 

Their cover is that of an actual, legal business of ruthless lawyers who specialize in criminal cases and getting mafia members out of jail. 

They have connections to the police of Fodlan and have some leeway to pull certain strings to do some maybe, illegal transactions. 

Within the mafia organization, corruption runs wild and the current boss/don has only gotten there due to fighting and asserting their dominance (they t-posed on all of ‘em)

Edelgard is next in line but she has to constantly keep her place as there are many high ranking members who have eyes on the position 

In the school phase, she studies law and business while at the Monastery. Along with mixed martial arts and knives. She’s adept with easy use guns. 

Hubert stands as one of her advisors as their family helped Edelgard’s secure their spot as the leader. 

He studies law alongside Edelgard and often gets deployed as the main lawyer for more serious cases to get mafia members out. 

At the academy, he studies well with projectiles of all kinds - mid ranged guns specifically as well as poisons in depth. 

Ferdinand’s family was one of the ones who - during the previous leader’s death, tried to gain the seat - competing alongside Edelgard’s. It was a bloody fight and many of the higher ranking members who competed were killed. Ferdinand’s family is the only one left from the previous inner circle.

He holds a slight grudge against Edelgard’s family, as her father ended his father’s life. As well as becoming the head of the mafia. 

He studies fighting and blades ( such as swords and long knives). He does well in finding random everyday objects to use as weapons. He studies business and will continue his family’s cover business as marketing for big companies and politicians. 

Bernadetta’s family is one of the newer families within Edelgard’s inner circle. She acts as one of the Black Eagle’s best assassins and hackers. Being among their top snipers. 

It was only her parent’s generation who got caught up with the mafia as before then, they owned an old restaurant that her grandparents still work at (they don’t know that their children are mafia members - bless them). 

This restaurant is a popular hub for people of all walks of life- especially mafia members who guard it carefully. As they often hold meetings in the private rooms. 

Bernie, studies general computer science and does well with sniper-type weapons and hacking. 

Caspar comes from a long line of bodyguards although, he is undoubtedly the most fiery of them all, as he’s ready to throw down at the drop of a hat. 

His family is also new to the inner circle but have been apart of the mafia for generations, heading their bodyguard training and renting section. 

He studies sports medicine/training and excels at close combat fighting with and without weapons. 

Lindhardt is their poisons expert along with sneaky assassinations. 

He’s often asleep but it gives him ample time to pour some foul liquid into his target’s food and such. 

He does rely on Caspar to deal with brawls as he is not much of a frontline fighter.

Lindhardt studies biology and Chemistry along with various poison and assassination techniques. 

Dorothea - a new blood family within the group. They were given a chance by Edelgard to prove their worth. 

Dorothea herself covers as a well known actress/singer and often uses that to her advantage as an unconventional assassin. Often using whatever it takes to end someone’s life, whether it be by seduction and a gun or a friendly night out and some poison. 

She’s a quick study at the academy - dealing in assassination and poisons with a few bits of close combat (often using dance moves to deal damage). She takes musical theatre courses and acting. 

Petra isn’t your average mafia member. Sent by her family to repay their debts, she serves as Edelgard’s assistant and is kept under close watch. 

She does well in assassination from difficult positions (like through an open bus window or from a moving plane). As well as close combat with a knife. 

She studies law and criminology and at the academy - guns and fighting.   

Faerghus/ The Blue Lions

An old power alongside the Empire, they have a more traditional style - modeled after the Japanese Yakuza, they take honor and pride into everything they do. 

They control the North-West side of Fodlan and deal mainly in loans and a bit of drugs (Not super hard drugs, mainly weed and a few of their own making)

Their cover is that of a regular dojo/athletic training centre organization. Prized for having many of their athletes win medals at the Olympics. 

Dimitri’s family having started the business and kept the mafia running alongside their close business partners and allies - Felix’s family. 

Set to inherit the family business, Dimitri studies business and sports medicine/psychology.

He excels with mid-long range fighting with swords and guns. He’s a prodigy at martial arts - having studied it since he was young. 

 Felix’s family is an old name in the mafia. They have a long history of being rivals turned partners with Dimitri’s family. 

They also own multiple training areas and sports venues around the city. 

Felix himself is forced to study business but actively participates in sports training on multiple varsity level teams. At the academy he studies close combat with martial arts and shooting with various guns. 

Dedue’s family is relatively new. Acting as Dimitri’s bodyguard, his family is just recently apart of the inner circle. In charge of monitoring the interpersonal relationships between the mafia’s members and what not. 

He studies History and Plant-based chemistry along with fighting at both close and long range and poisons - he takes his job very seriously. 

Annette’s family isn’t a stranger to the mafia. Turning to join illegal organizations in order to pursue their scientific discoveries without having pressure from the police. 

Annette herself is a genius inventor who comes up with wacky concoctions to help her allies gain strengths while also new ways to kill their enemies. 

She studies chemistry and engineering along with poison assassination and other various assassination skills. 

Sylvain’s family has had it rough within the mafia ever since his brother up and deserted them to join the police. 

His family has been in and out of the inner circle and have been busy trying to gain favour again, with Sylvain set to inherit the family business of bars around the city. 

Sylvain studies business and chemistry( taking a specific liking to alcohol-based mixtures) and does well in close combat and poisons. He’s very handy in a bar fight - he probably started them all with Felix

Ashe, is new to the mafia, only entering once Lonato took him in from the streets. 

Lonato is an aging advisor to Dimitri’s family and has sent Ashe to take his place. 

Ashe is the Blue Lion’s best assassin with various projectiles and knives. He’s trying his best to learn how to be a good advisor but he’s still pretty new. 

He studies - or tries to study physics and law as well as long-ranged assassination techniques and spy skills at the academy. 

Ingrid along with Sylvain’s family has also had a tough year. Sent to work for the Blue Lions after her family’s business ended in bankruptcy, she works hard to become a good bodyguard.

She aspires to be the head of the security sector to keep outside groups from taking their turf. Although she was forced to join, she came to enjoy the camaraderie between the families as she grew close to Dimitri, Felix, and Sylvain. 

She studies law. At the academy she deals with close combat fighting. 

Mercedes’s family, originally paired with the Black Eagles, defected to the Blue Lions as the bloodbath over leadership began. 

They own many clothing shops around the city, with Mercede’s mother being a well known fashion designer. 

Mercede’s herself is one of their hackers and does well as an informant. They don’t often let her walk without some sort of protection due to the Black Eagles knowing that one of their own inner circle switched sides. 

She studies fashion and spy techniques as well as a little assassination at the academy. 

The Leicester Alliance/ Golden Deer

The newest of the three main mafia groups. Comprised of various smaller groups and defected families of the other two. 

Originally unorganized and corrupt, the Reigan family rose above them all and created a sense of unity - although it is still an unstable power. 

This group deals mainly in the entertainment industry as their cover with many groups signed under them and game centers opening in their name. 

They really deal in information and hacking as their main income.

They’re in the North-east sector of Fodlan. 

Claude’s family, as the main leaders of the group, have to constantly be wary of assassination attempts from their other higher ranking members. As they have to set an example, if any of the families get caught trying to murder one of their own, they will be “publicly” executed, either social suicide or physical death. 

Claude studies business and acting as well as assassination/spy skills and long-ranged fighting. He’s not bad in a close combat fight, though. 

Leonie is a relatively new member who is often sent out on interrogation missions to try and earn her keep. 

She is one of their best fighters as she can hit hard and take a beating herself.

She studies veterinary subjects and does well in close combat fighting. 

Raphael is a kid who got taken in by one of the mafia members as the Golden Deer often like to give orphans and street roamers a chance. 

He stands out as a great bodyguard and security person. He often accompanies Claude whenever he goes out. 

He studies things like Metal working and close combat fighting. 

Ignatz is probably their best hacker and computer wiz. Coming from a family of software development, he got sent to the mafia to help them pay off some debt. 

He is apart of Claude’s inner circle based on his skills alone. 

He studies Computer sciences and game development as well as other spy activities and guns. 

Lorenz is one of Claude’s advisors as his family also helped create some order within the group. Although his family does push him to overtake Claude at some point. 

He is one of their best informants, being in charge of anything related to the other mafia groups as well as any leaks they may have within their own. 

He studies law and business as well as various assassination techniques and long-ranged fighting. 

Hilda is also an older member. Her family only just bringing her into the mafia business. They manage a few underground gambling sites and pass along information to the mafia. 

She herself isn’t the best at keeping secrets so she’s often sent with a partner to act as the “good cop” to their “bad cop” and gain info that way. 

She studies fashion and close combat fighting along with assassination knife skills. 

Lysithea’s family is one of the most respected families. As they’re known for being informants and have a large network of spies. 

She is often sent out on undercover missions to retrieve pieces of information/evidence. 

She studies assassination, long- range sniping and hacking. With a cover of Techincal theatre (mainly as a stage manager). 

Marianne is their acting doctor. Brought into this work by her adoptive father, she is one of their best field medics and researchers. 

She often is charged with making sure items are safe for use - as she’s adept at detecting poisons and other traps. 

She studies plants and animals, with specialties in assassination (poisons) and guns. 

The Church of Seiros

The most prestigious schools in Fodlan. They train students for everyday University credits and degrees. Along with a compulsory physical education of learning how to wield a weapon (for the “Advanced class”) and regular sports for the non-illegal folk. 

The full-time boarding school is located at the heart of the city, atop a large, forested mountain. 

They take in orphans from the street to train as assassins, which they can then lend to the competing mafia groups. 

They also have underground laboratories for experiments and such.

Among the mafias they’re neutral territory as they train students from each group. 

Because they’re a highly respected church, they don’t get many regular checks by the school board or other public enforcers. 

Rhea was the archbishop who began training orphans as assassins. 

The Knights of Seiros is the church’s most highly ranked assassins who do Rhea’s bidding.

[dj-yukio]

Mafia AU (OD)

I gotta say, I really like this au already

Like, ‘even if I’ve got exams I would write this’ kind of like, though if I do my take on it it would have no chronological order

But anyways, here you go anon

Headcanons:

- In this AU, most of the worlds publicly condemn quite a number of controversial things that used to be acceptable in the past (i.e. cannibalism, consumption of a species with similar intelligence to their own, trafficking in whatever sense there is, slavery of ghosts etc.). Note the word ‘publicly’

- For Pitch Black World, there’s the usual jobs, like those who do honourable jobs like be an officer, a shopkeeper, that sort of thing, and then there’s the ‘underworld’ of the world

- The mafia issue is actually well known, just that they’re quite elusive and hard to find

- The mafia is split into several factions that deal with various components, like one could be bringing in the slaves, another would be forcing them into control through various means, and yet another would sell them

- Featuring Kurotsuno as the leader under her faction, Hanten as the extreme loyal right hand man and Met as their informant with several connections

- Kurotsuno’s faction deals with bringing in bodies to be turned to meat by another faction ie they murder people sneakily

- Kurotsuno deals with the more admin matters such as determining what’s the quota, if there’s someone that needs to be taken care of, and making sure every single corpse they bring in is accounted for

- Hanten is the main hunter and deliverer who brings in the requested amount within a day, occasionally bringing in an extra body for her to eat ever since being told off to leave the quota alone

- Met manages the calls, having various contacts with her more normal job and brings in the paperwork. Occasionally joins Hanten if there’s quite a number of deaths to settle

- Their faction, despite having few people in it, is actually quite efficient, and is one of the harder to expose factions as compared to, say, the sex trafficking factions

- As for their parents, they’re unaware, oblivious to the fact that their children are literally on the dark-er (get it? Cause pitch black world- I’ll shut up) side

- Maekami is in on the whole thing, getting intel from whatever he hears in the bar and supports his bar’s business by selling that information

- Anten’s faction under Lil was in charge of importing specifically the angels, which cost him greatly once they found out and brought down the faction (the same one that Kurotsuno’s in charge of now)

- Hanten was supposed to take over (from Anten), but she decided to give that role to Kurotsuno instead for personal reasons

- The house which they reside in is more or less for their hideout, because no one suspects the three teenage girls in the same house that is wide open for all to see to be discussing how many people they need to get before a deadline. That, and it’s not like they’re going to pay for a private venue to host this shit. The basement acts as a storage room

- The money is split as such: Kuro and Hanten 35% each, Met 20%(she gets paid being a DJ separately, but it is admittedly lesser than the 35% cut for the two demons), Savings 10%

- Occasionally they get a direct order for certain types of meat, to which they deliver personally not to their doorstep but to the table in the living room even though all possible entrances are closed and there’s no way in

- Reficul’s world orders quite a bit of meat

- The ones that they have to really watch out for are the non-corrupt police and the shinigami

- Surprisingly, the mafia actually contributes quite a bit to PBW’s economy, though not many of the citizens know about that other than the higher ups who cover their tracks

[elanorjane]

California Soulmates Chapter 2

Summary: Pop princess Belle wants to write her own music. Single father Gold wants to put his failed music career behind him. When inspiration hits, there's only one problem...the songs they're writing are each other's. "Telepathic soulmates" RCIJ for @beastlycheese

AO3

What was this complete and utter pish?

Rumford Gold sat cross-legged on the wood floor of the living room. Well, in a bedsit technically the whole thing was a living room. But it was the sliver of space he and Bae had cordoned off as shared. The window was open and a minuscule breeze, along with a lot of traffic noise, filtered in. With fifteen years of practice, he blocked out the horn and engine noises easily. The windows were old with wooden frames that had warped over the years and been painted over dozens of times, so having it shut made no difference.

He plucked at the strings of the acoustic guitar in his lap, the chain and cord bracelets wrapped around his right wrist shifting with the movement. He scowled at the illegible scribbles on the paper in front of him. He had some song about a drunken night at a club sung in a girl's voice in his head. It sounded like something out of a 16-year-old girl’s diary. He shook his hair out of his eyes and tried to concentrate on the radio jingle he was supposed to be writing for a local car dealership. He should be focused. He was lucky to get the gig. But lyrics about summer and beaches and sex kept ending up on the page instead. He must have picked it up from somewhere, but he swore he hadn’t heard it before. He didn’t even turn on the radio anymore because there was nothing on it worth listening to. The radio dial in his beat to hell Dodge Charger didn’t even work anymore after he’d mashed it a few too many times out of frustration for the drivel it was playing. Bae was always on about Sirius XM, but he could add that to the list of things Bae wanted and Gold couldn't afford.

Gold turned back to the song scratched in pencil on music sheets scattered around him on the floor. He couldn’t have penned it himself. For starters, it sounded way more pop than anything he’d ever written. More tellingly, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex. He doubted that he could aptly describe it anymore. He glanced over the page of lyrics, all of them inappropriate to sell cars. He’d probably inadvertently picked it up from something Bae was listening to. Despite Gold’s extensive schooling, Bae’s tastes still ran tragically pop. He sighed. Too bad this rubbish wasn’t his. The damn thing would probably be a hit. Gold balled the sheet up in his hand, crumbled it into a tight ball, and lobbed it across the room where it bounced off Bae’s bedroom door.

It wasn’t a bedroom door so much as a curtain Bae had rigged up around his bed in the corner. By the light filtering through the one window Gold could see the outline of his son sprawled out on his bed. He could hear the din of Top 50 seeping out of his headphones. Gold’s own bare mattress was pushed against the opposite wall. It was the best they could do to give each other some sense of privacy. Gold studied his son’s form then lamented the now blank page in front of him. A fourteen year old boy should have his own room. He should have grown up with a yard to play in. Gold blamed himself for not giving Bae everything he should have and keeping them in L.A. long after they should have moved back to Scotland. Or any other place besides this godforsaken city.

This was not how it was supposed to be. Gold was the founding member and brainchild behind what was an up and coming English rock band. Formed in London in the early 80’s, they were on their way to hitting it big. They were going to make real, industry shattering, mind blowing music and get rich doing it. Until it had all fallen apart.

Gold had written music his entire life. He’d picked up a slew of instruments along the way. First guitar, then piano. He spend his formative years learning every part to his favorite songs. He loved early Rolling Stones and Small Faces. In his teens he’d started a band, like every young kid in Glasgow was doing in those days. But while his friends had eventually grown out of it and moved on to football and girls as their main pursuits, he never lost his obsessive focus on music.

In his early twenties he’d moved to London and worked on finding other serious musicians and together they formed a band, focusing on heavy-sounding rhythm and blues. That’s how he’d met his ex-wife, Milah. She’d auditioned for keyboardist. They were young and she seemed just as invested in the music as he was and it wasn’t long before they were spending all of their time together. In the intervening years, the band crashed on a series of friends’ couches. Gold spent all day writing music and as many evenings as possible in whatever disreputable bar would let them play, fronting his band, playing guitar and singing lead. They were struggling musicians barely scraping by in the city and they had been the best years of his life, full of love and music.

Then, Killian Jones came in to audition after they’d lost their bassist. Gold remembered the moment vividly. They sat in a dingy basement bar of a restaurant that rented the space out to them for rehearsal during the day. Gold, Milah, and the rest of the band sat in creaky old wood chairs and on sticky tables while Jones, under the dusty overhead light, played a Led Zepplin song. That should have been Gold’s first clue. He was always a bigger fan of The Who. After Jones played his last note, Gold peppered him with questions about his abilities, experience, and musical tastes. The same litmus test he’d give anyone who wanted to join his band.

Milah and the rest of the musicians were immediately sold on Jones and his leather jacket joining the band, but Gold was the lone holdout. Reminding him that they couldn’t play their already scheduled performances if they didn’t have a bassist, Gold agreed to let Jones play on a trial basis only.  

It was after one of these tryout gigs, while they were packing up the gear, when Jones sheepishly admitted to the rest of the band that he was really was a frontman at heart.  

“We don’t need a singer,” Gold immediately responded. He wrote the songs, he performed the songs, it worked. No need to fix what wasn’t broken.  

But Milah wasn’t so dismissive.

“Give the boy a chance, love,” she told him, gesturing at Killian. The boy had a look, Gold guessed, though it seemed to hover somewhere closer to Boy George than Rod Stewart. He found everything about the new guy cloying. Jones’ eyeliner rimmed baby blues peered up at Gold in what he imagined was supposed to be a charming, unassuming grin.    

“You don’t even like being up front anyway,” Milah told Gold. While he’d taken the lead singer position out of necessity, Gold had learned to enjoy it and thought he’d grown into it. But the whole band looked at him expectantly.

“Alright, fine,” he’d caved. The kid could try it out and when he didn’t remember any of the lyrics and bombed, they’d go back to their original lineup.

So at the next gig, Gold stood stage right, playing bass and singing backup. He watched dumbly as his words came out of Killian's mouth and everyone fell over themselves. And the performance after that. And the one after that.

Crowds, for some reason, gravitated towards Jones. Droves of women, who Gold knew weren’t there for the music, began attending and standing up front. Gold wanted the music to speak for itself. But Killian was a born entertainer. He chatted to the girls in the crowd, making them titter. Gold glanced across the stage at Milah, who was laughing and shaking her head at his antics, completely won over. He’d remember that look in her eyes and the way her face lit up for the rest of his life.

“He’s sexy,” Milah had told him in bed one night, when he was still on the fence about Jones officially joining the band and taking over lead.

Gold had asked Milah to marry him the next day. He could see now, in retrospect, that he’d sensed her slipping away from him. He had loved her, he truly had. But marrying her had been his way to try and hold onto her, to keep her from leaving him. Not that it had done any good in the end. I didn’t matter, he would have married her anyway because, unbeknownst to them at the time, she was already pregnant with Bae.

With Killian Jones on the mic, the band started to gain more attention. It was so gradual at first, Gold almost didn’t notice. The rooms they played began to fill a little more. The venues got a little bigger. Until one day, at a party after a show, he looked around and realized he in the same room as Jeff Beck and Ronnie Wood, breathing the same air. All because of their mutual love of making music.  

It was only a matter of time before America began calling. The lure of recording contracts and bigger audiences was too great. The band boarded a plane from London for L.A. Upon arriving, they found a place downtown to squat in and seamlessly fell into the music scene. They spent their days recording demos on borrowed studio time. Gold remembered seeing a proper mixing board for the first time and spending hours pouring over it with a single minded intensity. When Bae was born, he joined their caravan of bohemians, riding along in vans to various gigs. Sometimes even living in a van. But it didn’t matter because Bae was a happy baby and they traveled as a band, a family.

One that wasn’t destined to last.

They signed their first record deal with a major label within six months of arriving in L.A. Moe French, a record producer so famous Gold recognized him on sight, happened to be in the audience when they played one of their best shows. He cornered them when they exited the stage. Riding high on one of their best performances ever, they signed without even reading the contract he thrust at them in his glass fronted office the next day. Within the next week they had studio time of their own and twelve of their best tracks laid down. They got so far as to even have an official photo shoot for the album cover, with Killian in the middle and the rest of them fanned out around him.

It looked like Gold had been wrong. Killian Jones had been their ticket to success in the L.A. music scene.

But he had also been their downfall.

Within a year of landing at LAX, Jones and Milah had fell for the drinking and the drugs and each other. The two ran off together and the rest of the band members, burned out by the polarizing drama, vanished, getting gigs in established bands or as session players.

He should have put himself and an infant Bae on a plane the day their family, and the band, broke up. Instead, his pride got the better of him and Gold, with Bae, had stayed in L.A. He'd stick around to show them all. While Jones had been part of their meteoric rise, he was nothing but a pretty face. Gold wasn’t going to let him ruin everything he had spent decades building.

He was in Moe French’s office the next morning.

“I’ll get another band together,” he’d promised Moe.  

“No, you won’t.” Moe answered confidently. At Gold’s perplexed look, he continued. “We own your songs now, boy.”

A horrible pit formed in Gold’s stomach. “I don’t understand.”

“The contract you signed,” Moe informed him casually. “Those songs now belong to the record label.”

“But I wrote them!” Gold defended. “We already recorded them!”

“In a studio the label paid for,” Moe countered. “You wasted my time and my money. That album will never see the light of day.” He remembered the bloated face of Moe French baring down on him. “Now get out of my office before I sue you for breech on contract,” he growled.  

He’d once ran into Eric Clapton on a regular basis. Now he was in a bedsit in east L.A. His best friend was a 14-year-old who would rather closet himself in his ‘room.’ He wrote jingles and whatever else anyone need him for, just to stay involved in music somehow, using the same Gibson that he used to write the songs that were supposed to make him and his band famous. The piano had been sold long ago to pay for this place.

He looked around the room. He used to live out of a van. In comparison to that, this was nothing. It was all Bae had ever known. Scraps of paper with song lyrics scribbled all over them were tacked all over the apartment walls. After seeing A Beautiful Mind at a friend’s house, Bae had come home and asked Gold if he was schizophrenic.

All Gold had left of his blossoming music career was an unreleased album and a trail of broken dreams. And Bae. He had Bae. If he had to do it all again, knowing the outcome, if it got him his boy, he’d do it.

Gold shook his head. He hadn’t thought of his bitterness about the music industry in a long time. He’d focus on Bae and doing what he could to keep the apartment under them and cereal in the cupboards.

He unconsciously played the first few notes of a song he’d written for Bae when he was little. It was meant to comfort his son when he had nightmares, but in truth it gave Gold just as much solace. Now that he was older, Bae didn’t need it anymore. But obviously Gold still did. He’d give in to his despondency and play it through, just the once. Then, he’d get back to work.

[melodymgill49801]

RIP China Chalet, Manhattan's Greatest Queer Nightlife Utopia

When DJ and nightlife entrepreneur Ty Sunderland created his flagship gay party, he envisioned stripper poles—an homage to the music video for Britney Spears’ 2007 single “Gimme More.” “But no strip club was going to let a gay promoter come in on a Friday night in New York City,” Sunderland recalls. “I asked if I could install stripper poles on the dance floor at China Chalet, and they said, ‘Yeah, totally.’ That’s how Heaven on Earth started.” 

One of the most beloved queer events in New York City in recent years, Heaven on Earth would also rank among the last of the great parties thrown at China Chalet, which shuttered last  month in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. Opened in 1975, the two-story Cantonese dim sum restaurant was the last of its kind in many ways. For one, it was one of the only remaining full-service, multi-room dim sum banquet halls in the Wall Street area, but most famously, it was one of only DIY party venues in Manhattan where New York City nightlife could be everything it’s been promised to be since Studio 54: liberating, inclusive, and spontaneous. 

It’s unclear when, exactly, China Chalet started moonlighting as a nightclub, even to those who worked there toward the end. (Following the venue’s closing, owner Keith Ng has declined to comment for press.) Alex Kellogg, the venue’s party booker at the time it closed, says he’d heard of parties rumored to have been thrown there by Madonna in the 80s, but that the venue’s most prolific era began in the late 2000s. In the last decade, the venue was visited by the likes of the Olsen twins, Timothée Chalamet, and Jay-Z—plus, pretty much any young person who went out in New York City.  

“Anyone could come, and you could do anything you wanted,” Kellogg recalls of his first impression of the space, at a party thrown by _Sex Magazine_’s Asher Penn in 2013. “There was no one specific ‘genre’ of people. It wasn’t like when you went to a Bushwick party and you didn’t look DIY techno, so they didn’t accept you. Skaters could show up in ripped jeans, and then Alexander Wang could walk in behind them. And they’d be on the same level. Or you’d see Chloe Sevigny there, dressed in a bucket T-shirt and jeans drinking whiskey at the bar.” 

Photo by Megan Walschlager

The end of the aughts was an inflection point for nightlife. As the moment of downtown stalwarts like Beatrice Inn and Bungalow 8 began to fade in 2009 amid the backdrop of the financial crisis, the city’s cool kids decamped to various new stomping grounds, from old-school holdovers like Indochine and Lucien to warehouses in far Brooklyn. In Manhattan, temporary pop-up arrangements helped party-throwers find loopholes around the city’s draconian nightlife laws.

By 2011, the New York Times waxed of China Chalet’s instantly recognizable “chintzy floral carpet and pagoda paintings” in a trend feature on fashion-and-art–scene pop-up clubs, which also included Madame Wong’s, an exclusive party once hosted in the Chinatown establishment Golden Unicorn. The same year, The Observer documented an indie film after-party at China Chalet with an attendance of “ex-pat jet setters, debauched hipsters, and local lowlifes.” And the fashion house Opening Ceremony collaborated with homegrown psych rock band Gang Gang Dance for an album release party at the restaurant. 

Curtis Everett Pawley, musician and co-founder of the party-label 38 NYC, recalls seeing China Chalet for the first time at that Opening Ceremony party, noting that in the mid 2010s, the venue evolved from a fashion insider hideaway to a mainstay for local electronic music fans. In 2014, Pawley met Kellogg at the China Chalet while the latter was hosting a New York City offshoot of London’s experimental JACK댄스 party featuring performers like Doss and Stadium. 

“I don’t know how to describe the scene at JACK댄스—it was just a lot of people from the internet,” Pawley says. “But it was distinctly different from a warehouse party and other electronic DJ-oriented underground stuff that happened in Brooklyn. There was a Manhattan contingency that didn’t really venture into Brooklyn or maybe weren’t even into electronic music. The crowd was more diverse.”

Part of this broad appeal had to do with the functional and physical layout of the space. For first-timers, China Chalet would reveal itself one part at a time, starting with a steep entry stairwell that led into a main dining room, for lounging and gossipping, and finally through a mirrored hallway onto a packed dance floor—which was notoriously known to shake under the weight of hundreds jumping in unison. Then, there was the venue's far-flung location, which only contributed to its off-the-grid allure. And of course, there was the marvelously relaxed policy on cigarettes and other typical club contraband. 

“There was an air of freedom that everyone just instantly knew,” Pawley explains. “If you had even been there once, you understood it. It was a weird oasis away from the typical nightlife setting. Our parties were all over the map—it wasn’t ever pure techno or house. We didn’t want to overly aestheticize them to curate any certain crowd.” 

Photo by Tom Keelan

In the late 2010s, such a blank canvas would attract an increasingly diverse cast of revelers, spurred on by a new guard of social media-powered creative voices in the city. Nightlife photographer Megan Walschlager recalls visiting China Chalet for the first time to attend Club Glam, the fashion it-kid affair launched in 2016 by the powerhouse collective of DJ-artist Dese Escobar and siblings, celebrity stylist Kyle Luu, and influencer Fiffany Luu. Escobar told the Times earlier this year that the trio wanted to create a party that was distinctly “post-identity, meaning that it’s not strictly queer or straight, young or old.” 

“Club Glam was iconic—I remember they threw a ‘granny ball’ and people over 30 got in free, which I always found wonderfully funny,” Walschlager says, adding that there was a built-in sense of community at Glam. “People felt more at home at China Chalet because the venue let party planners use the space as their canvas, so everyone felt very relaxed. Security was pretty chill, and it was easy to get a drink at the bar, so it felt more communal.” 

During its three-year reign, Club Glam was a pioneer in its own right, offering a fresh approach to nightlife that united identities and industries without conforming to their norms. Themed events were announced just a few days ahead of time, and lines frequently rounded the block. The party’s organic aggregation of interdisciplinary creatives often draws comparison to the long-gone clubs of New York City nightlife’s storied past. 

The venue’s reputation in the queer community was further mainstreamed by the 2017 launch of Ty Sunderland’s Heaven on Earth, which drew the likes of RuPaul’s Drag Race winner Aquaria, Balmain creative director Olivier Rousteing, and transgender pop icon Kim Petras. (As Sunderland retells it, the latter once famously grabbed the mic for an impromptu performance of her latest single.) The party would continue through 2020, with its last iteration taking place in February.

To this day, Sunderland credits the owner, Keith Ng, for his open-mindedness in allowing the party to thrive. “From 10 p.m. to midnight, we got to live our stripper-pole fantasies—no questions asked,” Sunderland says. “There were 400 gay men there on a weekend night. That’s hard to find in New York City in most places unless they’re LGBT establishments.” Kellogg, who first introduced Sunderand to Ng, adds of the China Chalet staff: “The coat-check girls would say, ‘Oh my god—there are so many pretty boys running around.’ They loved it.” 

Photo by Serichai Traipoom

For young queer people, including queer people of color, Sunderland’s party filled a much-needed void in gay nightlife far from the insularity of Hell’s Kitchen. Sunderland’s hosts were predominantly performers, artists, and partygoers of marginalized identities, explains drag queen Ruby Fox, who was known to captivate the dance floor at Heaven on Earth with an acrobatic routine between two stripper poles. 

“The artistry I push out into the world comes from the emotions I pull from people around me,” Fox says. “At China Chalet, in such close quarters, it was really exhilarating because I’m getting so much energy and so many positive vibes, whether that was spiritual or just a brain thing. But I would feel the wavelengths off of people to the point where I’d be like the Energizer bunny.” 

As COVID-19 brings an untimely end to tens of thousands of restaurants and bars across America, it’s hard not to feel as though a chapter of nightlife has closed. And while restaurants and other food purveyors are struggling to lobby for assistance, nightlife proprietors have even fewer options to obtain funding. That’s not to mention the thousands of freelancers and gig workers—performers, DJs, and party planners—who make their living by creating these spaces for community and expression. 

“It's funny—when quarantine hit, all of us who work in live music were all stressed about how our venues were going to stay open,” Pawley remembers. “I remember thinking, ‘At least we’ll always have China Chalet.’ That’s why its closing is such a hard blow. I really thought it would be the last thing standing.” 

But while China Chalet deserved a more fitting end—maybe one final party to commemorate its legacy—Pawley says what made it special is the creativity it fostered and the connections it created. “To this day, I met so many of my closest friends at China Chalet,” he says. “We’re all still friends. I really believe all the people in New York City are what made the parties great. I don’t think that energy will die.”

via VICE US - Munchies VICE US - Munchies via Mom's Kitchen Recipe Network Mom's Kitchen Recipe Network

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RIP China Chalet, Manhattan's Greatest Queer Nightlife Utopia

When DJ and nightlife entrepreneur Ty Sunderland created his flagship gay party, he envisioned stripper poles—an homage to the music video for Britney Spears’ 2007 single “Gimme More.” “But no strip club was going to let a gay promoter come in on a Friday night in New York City,” Sunderland recalls. “I asked if I could install stripper poles on the dance floor at China Chalet, and they said, ‘Yeah, totally.’ That’s how Heaven on Earth started.” 

One of the most beloved queer events in New York City in recent years, Heaven on Earth would also rank among the last of the great parties thrown at China Chalet, which shuttered last  month in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. Opened in 1975, the two-story Cantonese dim sum restaurant was the last of its kind in many ways. For one, it was one of the only remaining full-service, multi-room dim sum banquet halls in the Wall Street area, but most famously, it was one of only DIY party venues in Manhattan where New York City nightlife could be everything it’s been promised to be since Studio 54: liberating, inclusive, and spontaneous. 

It’s unclear when, exactly, China Chalet started moonlighting as a nightclub, even to those who worked there toward the end. (Following the venue’s closing, owner Keith Ng has declined to comment for press.) Alex Kellogg, the venue’s party booker at the time it closed, says he’d heard of parties rumored to have been thrown there by Madonna in the 80s, but that the venue’s most prolific era began in the late 2000s. In the last decade, the venue was visited by the likes of the Olsen twins, Timothée Chalamet, and Jay-Z—plus, pretty much any young person who went out in New York City.  

“Anyone could come, and you could do anything you wanted,” Kellogg recalls of his first impression of the space, at a party thrown by _Sex Magazine_’s Asher Penn in 2013. “There was no one specific ‘genre’ of people. It wasn’t like when you went to a Bushwick party and you didn’t look DIY techno, so they didn’t accept you. Skaters could show up in ripped jeans, and then Alexander Wang could walk in behind them. And they’d be on the same level. Or you’d see Chloe Sevigny there, dressed in a bucket T-shirt and jeans drinking whiskey at the bar.” 

Photo by Megan Walschlager

The end of the aughts was an inflection point for nightlife. As the moment of downtown stalwarts like Beatrice Inn and Bungalow 8 began to fade in 2009 amid the backdrop of the financial crisis, the city’s cool kids decamped to various new stomping grounds, from old-school holdovers like Indochine and Lucien to warehouses in far Brooklyn. In Manhattan, temporary pop-up arrangements helped party-throwers find loopholes around the city’s draconian nightlife laws.

By 2011, the New York Times waxed of China Chalet’s instantly recognizable “chintzy floral carpet and pagoda paintings” in a trend feature on fashion-and-art–scene pop-up clubs, which also included Madame Wong’s, an exclusive party once hosted in the Chinatown establishment Golden Unicorn. The same year, The Observer documented an indie film after-party at China Chalet with an attendance of “ex-pat jet setters, debauched hipsters, and local lowlifes.” And the fashion house Opening Ceremony collaborated with homegrown psych rock band Gang Gang Dance for an album release party at the restaurant. 

Curtis Everett Pawley, musician and co-founder of the party-label 38 NYC, recalls seeing China Chalet for the first time at that Opening Ceremony party, noting that in the mid 2010s, the venue evolved from a fashion insider hideaway to a mainstay for local electronic music fans. In 2014, Pawley met Kellogg at the China Chalet while the latter was hosting a New York City offshoot of London’s experimental JACK댄스 party featuring performers like Doss and Stadium. 

“I don’t know how to describe the scene at JACK댄스—it was just a lot of people from the internet,” Pawley says. “But it was distinctly different from a warehouse party and other electronic DJ-oriented underground stuff that happened in Brooklyn. There was a Manhattan contingency that didn’t really venture into Brooklyn or maybe weren’t even into electronic music. The crowd was more diverse.”

Part of this broad appeal had to do with the functional and physical layout of the space. For first-timers, China Chalet would reveal itself one part at a time, starting with a steep entry stairwell that led into a main dining room, for lounging and gossipping, and finally through a mirrored hallway onto a packed dance floor—which was notoriously known to shake under the weight of hundreds jumping in unison. Then, there was the venue's far-flung location, which only contributed to its off-the-grid allure. And of course, there was the marvelously relaxed policy on cigarettes and other typical club contraband. 

“There was an air of freedom that everyone just instantly knew,” Pawley explains. “If you had even been there once, you understood it. It was a weird oasis away from the typical nightlife setting. Our parties were all over the map—it wasn’t ever pure techno or house. We didn’t want to overly aestheticize them to curate any certain crowd.” 

Photo by Tom Keelan

In the late 2010s, such a blank canvas would attract an increasingly diverse cast of revelers, spurred on by a new guard of social media-powered creative voices in the city. Nightlife photographer Megan Walschlager recalls visiting China Chalet for the first time to attend Club Glam, the fashion it-kid affair launched in 2016 by the powerhouse collective of DJ-artist Dese Escobar and siblings, celebrity stylist Kyle Luu, and influencer Fiffany Luu. Escobar told the Times earlier this year that the trio wanted to create a party that was distinctly “post-identity, meaning that it’s not strictly queer or straight, young or old.” 

“Club Glam was iconic—I remember they threw a ‘granny ball’ and people over 30 got in free, which I always found wonderfully funny,” Walschlager says, adding that there was a built-in sense of community at Glam. “People felt more at home at China Chalet because the venue let party planners use the space as their canvas, so everyone felt very relaxed. Security was pretty chill, and it was easy to get a drink at the bar, so it felt more communal.” 

During its three-year reign, Club Glam was a pioneer in its own right, offering a fresh approach to nightlife that united identities and industries without conforming to their norms. Themed events were announced just a few days ahead of time, and lines frequently rounded the block. The party’s organic aggregation of interdisciplinary creatives often draws comparison to the long-gone clubs of New York City nightlife’s storied past. 

The venue’s reputation in the queer community was further mainstreamed by the 2017 launch of Ty Sunderland’s Heaven on Earth, which drew the likes of RuPaul’s Drag Race winner Aquaria, Balmain creative director Olivier Rousteing, and transgender pop icon Kim Petras. (As Sunderland retells it, the latter once famously grabbed the mic for an impromptu performance of her latest single.) The party would continue through 2020, with its last iteration taking place in February.

To this day, Sunderland credits the owner, Keith Ng, for his open-mindedness in allowing the party to thrive. “From 10 p.m. to midnight, we got to live our stripper-pole fantasies—no questions asked,” Sunderland says. “There were 400 gay men there on a weekend night. That’s hard to find in New York City in most places unless they’re LGBT establishments.” Kellogg, who first introduced Sunderand to Ng, adds of the China Chalet staff: “The coat-check girls would say, ‘Oh my god—there are so many pretty boys running around.’ They loved it.” 

Photo by Serichai Traipoom

For young queer people, including queer people of color, Sunderland’s party filled a much-needed void in gay nightlife far from the insularity of Hell’s Kitchen. Sunderland’s hosts were predominantly performers, artists, and partygoers of marginalized identities, explains drag queen Ruby Fox, who was known to captivate the dance floor at Heaven on Earth with an acrobatic routine between two stripper poles. 

“The artistry I push out into the world comes from the emotions I pull from people around me,” Fox says. “At China Chalet, in such close quarters, it was really exhilarating because I’m getting so much energy and so many positive vibes, whether that was spiritual or just a brain thing. But I would feel the wavelengths off of people to the point where I’d be like the Energizer bunny.” 

As COVID-19 brings an untimely end to tens of thousands of restaurants and bars across America, it’s hard not to feel as though a chapter of nightlife has closed. And while restaurants and other food purveyors are struggling to lobby for assistance, nightlife proprietors have even fewer options to obtain funding. That’s not to mention the thousands of freelancers and gig workers—performers, DJs, and party planners—who make their living by creating these spaces for community and expression. 

“It's funny—when quarantine hit, all of us who work in live music were all stressed about how our venues were going to stay open,” Pawley remembers. “I remember thinking, ‘At least we’ll always have China Chalet.’ That’s why its closing is such a hard blow. I really thought it would be the last thing standing.” 

But while China Chalet deserved a more fitting end—maybe one final party to commemorate its legacy—Pawley says what made it special is the creativity it fostered and the connections it created. “To this day, I met so many of my closest friends at China Chalet,” he says. “We’re all still friends. I really believe all the people in New York City are what made the parties great. I don’t think that energy will die.”

via VICE US - Munchies VICE US - Munchies via Mom's Kitchen Recipe Network Mom's Kitchen Recipe Network

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RIP China Chalet, Manhattan's Greatest Queer Nightlife Utopia

When DJ and nightlife entrepreneur Ty Sunderland created his flagship gay party, he envisioned stripper poles—an homage to the music video for Britney Spears’ 2007 single “Gimme More.” “But no strip club was going to let a gay promoter come in on a Friday night in New York City,” Sunderland recalls. “I asked if I could install stripper poles on the dance floor at China Chalet, and they said, ‘Yeah, totally.’ That’s how Heaven on Earth started.” 

One of the most beloved queer events in New York City in recent years, Heaven on Earth would also rank among the last of the great parties thrown at China Chalet, which shuttered last  month in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. Opened in 1975, the two-story Cantonese dim sum restaurant was the last of its kind in many ways. For one, it was one of the only remaining full-service, multi-room dim sum banquet halls in the Wall Street area, but most famously, it was one of only DIY party venues in Manhattan where New York City nightlife could be everything it’s been promised to be since Studio 54: liberating, inclusive, and spontaneous. 

It’s unclear when, exactly, China Chalet started moonlighting as a nightclub, even to those who worked there toward the end. (Following the venue’s closing, owner Keith Ng has declined to comment for press.) Alex Kellogg, the venue’s party booker at the time it closed, says he’d heard of parties rumored to have been thrown there by Madonna in the 80s, but that the venue’s most prolific era began in the late 2000s. In the last decade, the venue was visited by the likes of the Olsen twins, Timothée Chalamet, and Jay-Z—plus, pretty much any young person who went out in New York City.  

“Anyone could come, and you could do anything you wanted,” Kellogg recalls of his first impression of the space, at a party thrown by _Sex Magazine_’s Asher Penn in 2013. “There was no one specific ‘genre’ of people. It wasn’t like when you went to a Bushwick party and you didn’t look DIY techno, so they didn’t accept you. Skaters could show up in ripped jeans, and then Alexander Wang could walk in behind them. And they’d be on the same level. Or you’d see Chloe Sevigny there, dressed in a bucket T-shirt and jeans drinking whiskey at the bar.” 

Photo by Megan Walschlager

The end of the aughts was an inflection point for nightlife. As the moment of downtown stalwarts like Beatrice Inn and Bungalow 8 began to fade in 2009 amid the backdrop of the financial crisis, the city’s cool kids decamped to various new stomping grounds, from old-school holdovers like Indochine and Lucien to warehouses in far Brooklyn. In Manhattan, temporary pop-up arrangements helped party-throwers find loopholes around the city’s draconian nightlife laws.

By 2011, the New York Times waxed of China Chalet’s instantly recognizable “chintzy floral carpet and pagoda paintings” in a trend feature on fashion-and-art–scene pop-up clubs, which also included Madame Wong’s, an exclusive party once hosted in the Chinatown establishment Golden Unicorn. The same year, The Observer documented an indie film after-party at China Chalet with an attendance of “ex-pat jet setters, debauched hipsters, and local lowlifes.” And the fashion house Opening Ceremony collaborated with homegrown psych rock band Gang Gang Dance for an album release party at the restaurant. 

Curtis Everett Pawley, musician and co-founder of the party-label 38 NYC, recalls seeing China Chalet for the first time at that Opening Ceremony party, noting that in the mid 2010s, the venue evolved from a fashion insider hideaway to a mainstay for local electronic music fans. In 2014, Pawley met Kellogg at the China Chalet while the latter was hosting a New York City offshoot of London’s experimental JACK댄스 party featuring performers like Doss and Stadium. 

“I don’t know how to describe the scene at JACK댄스—it was just a lot of people from the internet,” Pawley says. “But it was distinctly different from a warehouse party and other electronic DJ-oriented underground stuff that happened in Brooklyn. There was a Manhattan contingency that didn’t really venture into Brooklyn or maybe weren’t even into electronic music. The crowd was more diverse.”

Part of this broad appeal had to do with the functional and physical layout of the space. For first-timers, China Chalet would reveal itself one part at a time, starting with a steep entry stairwell that led into a main dining room, for lounging and gossipping, and finally through a mirrored hallway onto a packed dance floor—which was notoriously known to shake under the weight of hundreds jumping in unison. Then, there was the venue's far-flung location, which only contributed to its off-the-grid allure. And of course, there was the marvelously relaxed policy on cigarettes and other typical club contraband. 

“There was an air of freedom that everyone just instantly knew,” Pawley explains. “If you had even been there once, you understood it. It was a weird oasis away from the typical nightlife setting. Our parties were all over the map—it wasn’t ever pure techno or house. We didn’t want to overly aestheticize them to curate any certain crowd.” 

Photo by Tom Keelan

In the late 2010s, such a blank canvas would attract an increasingly diverse cast of revelers, spurred on by a new guard of social media-powered creative voices in the city. Nightlife photographer Megan Walschlager recalls visiting China Chalet for the first time to attend Club Glam, the fashion it-kid affair launched in 2016 by the powerhouse collective of DJ-artist Dese Escobar and siblings, celebrity stylist Kyle Luu, and influencer Fiffany Luu. Escobar told the Times earlier this year that the trio wanted to create a party that was distinctly “post-identity, meaning that it’s not strictly queer or straight, young or old.” 

“Club Glam was iconic—I remember they threw a ‘granny ball’ and people over 30 got in free, which I always found wonderfully funny,” Walschlager says, adding that there was a built-in sense of community at Glam. “People felt more at home at China Chalet because the venue let party planners use the space as their canvas, so everyone felt very relaxed. Security was pretty chill, and it was easy to get a drink at the bar, so it felt more communal.” 

During its three-year reign, Club Glam was a pioneer in its own right, offering a fresh approach to nightlife that united identities and industries without conforming to their norms. Themed events were announced just a few days ahead of time, and lines frequently rounded the block. The party’s organic aggregation of interdisciplinary creatives often draws comparison to the long-gone clubs of New York City nightlife’s storied past. 

The venue’s reputation in the queer community was further mainstreamed by the 2017 launch of Ty Sunderland’s Heaven on Earth, which drew the likes of RuPaul’s Drag Race winner Aquaria, Balmain creative director Olivier Rousteing, and transgender pop icon Kim Petras. (As Sunderland retells it, the latter once famously grabbed the mic for an impromptu performance of her latest single.) The party would continue through 2020, with its last iteration taking place in February.

To this day, Sunderland credits the owner, Keith Ng, for his open-mindedness in allowing the party to thrive. “From 10 p.m. to midnight, we got to live our stripper-pole fantasies—no questions asked,” Sunderland says. “There were 400 gay men there on a weekend night. That’s hard to find in New York City in most places unless they’re LGBT establishments.” Kellogg, who first introduced Sunderand to Ng, adds of the China Chalet staff: “The coat-check girls would say, ‘Oh my god—there are so many pretty boys running around.’ They loved it.” 

Photo by Serichai Traipoom

For young queer people, including queer people of color, Sunderland’s party filled a much-needed void in gay nightlife far from the insularity of Hell’s Kitchen. Sunderland’s hosts were predominantly performers, artists, and partygoers of marginalized identities, explains drag queen Ruby Fox, who was known to captivate the dance floor at Heaven on Earth with an acrobatic routine between two stripper poles. 

“The artistry I push out into the world comes from the emotions I pull from people around me,” Fox says. “At China Chalet, in such close quarters, it was really exhilarating because I’m getting so much energy and so many positive vibes, whether that was spiritual or just a brain thing. But I would feel the wavelengths off of people to the point where I’d be like the Energizer bunny.” 

As COVID-19 brings an untimely end to tens of thousands of restaurants and bars across America, it’s hard not to feel as though a chapter of nightlife has closed. And while restaurants and other food purveyors are struggling to lobby for assistance, nightlife proprietors have even fewer options to obtain funding. That’s not to mention the thousands of freelancers and gig workers—performers, DJs, and party planners—who make their living by creating these spaces for community and expression. 

“It's funny—when quarantine hit, all of us who work in live music were all stressed about how our venues were going to stay open,” Pawley remembers. “I remember thinking, ‘At least we’ll always have China Chalet.’ That’s why its closing is such a hard blow. I really thought it would be the last thing standing.” 

But while China Chalet deserved a more fitting end—maybe one final party to commemorate its legacy—Pawley says what made it special is the creativity it fostered and the connections it created. “To this day, I met so many of my closest friends at China Chalet,” he says. “We’re all still friends. I really believe all the people in New York City are what made the parties great. I don’t think that energy will die.”

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RIP China Chalet, Manhattan's Greatest Queer Nightlife Utopia

When DJ and nightlife entrepreneur Ty Sunderland created his flagship gay party, he envisioned stripper poles—an homage to the music video for Britney Spears’ 2007 single “Gimme More.” “But no strip club was going to let a gay promoter come in on a Friday night in New York City,” Sunderland recalls. “I asked if I could install stripper poles on the dance floor at China Chalet, and they said, ‘Yeah, totally.’ That’s how Heaven on Earth started.” 

One of the most beloved queer events in New York City in recent years, Heaven on Earth would also rank among the last of the great parties thrown at China Chalet, which shuttered last  month in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. Opened in 1975, the two-story Cantonese dim sum restaurant was the last of its kind in many ways. For one, it was one of the only remaining full-service, multi-room dim sum banquet halls in the Wall Street area, but most famously, it was one of only DIY party venues in Manhattan where New York City nightlife could be everything it’s been promised to be since Studio 54: liberating, inclusive, and spontaneous. 

It’s unclear when, exactly, China Chalet started moonlighting as a nightclub, even to those who worked there toward the end. (Following the venue’s closing, owner Keith Ng has declined to comment for press.) Alex Kellogg, the venue’s party booker at the time it closed, says he’d heard of parties rumored to have been thrown there by Madonna in the 80s, but that the venue’s most prolific era began in the late 2000s. In the last decade, the venue was visited by the likes of the Olsen twins, Timothée Chalamet, and Jay-Z—plus, pretty much any young person who went out in New York City.  

“Anyone could come, and you could do anything you wanted,” Kellogg recalls of his first impression of the space, at a party thrown by _Sex Magazine_’s Asher Penn in 2013. “There was no one specific ‘genre’ of people. It wasn’t like when you went to a Bushwick party and you didn’t look DIY techno, so they didn’t accept you. Skaters could show up in ripped jeans, and then Alexander Wang could walk in behind them. And they’d be on the same level. Or you’d see Chloe Sevigny there, dressed in a bucket T-shirt and jeans drinking whiskey at the bar.” 

Photo by Megan Walschlager

The end of the aughts was an inflection point for nightlife. As the moment of downtown stalwarts like Beatrice Inn and Bungalow 8 began to fade in 2009 amid the backdrop of the financial crisis, the city’s cool kids decamped to various new stomping grounds, from old-school holdovers like Indochine and Lucien to warehouses in far Brooklyn. In Manhattan, temporary pop-up arrangements helped party-throwers find loopholes around the city’s draconian nightlife laws.

By 2011, the New York Times waxed of China Chalet’s instantly recognizable “chintzy floral carpet and pagoda paintings” in a trend feature on fashion-and-art–scene pop-up clubs, which also included Madame Wong’s, an exclusive party once hosted in the Chinatown establishment Golden Unicorn. The same year, The Observer documented an indie film after-party at China Chalet with an attendance of “ex-pat jet setters, debauched hipsters, and local lowlifes.” And the fashion house Opening Ceremony collaborated with homegrown psych rock band Gang Gang Dance for an album release party at the restaurant. 

Curtis Everett Pawley, musician and co-founder of the party-label 38 NYC, recalls seeing China Chalet for the first time at that Opening Ceremony party, noting that in the mid 2010s, the venue evolved from a fashion insider hideaway to a mainstay for local electronic music fans. In 2014, Pawley met Kellogg at the China Chalet while the latter was hosting a New York City offshoot of London’s experimental JACK댄스 party featuring performers like Doss and Stadium. 

“I don’t know how to describe the scene at JACK댄스—it was just a lot of people from the internet,” Pawley says. “But it was distinctly different from a warehouse party and other electronic DJ-oriented underground stuff that happened in Brooklyn. There was a Manhattan contingency that didn’t really venture into Brooklyn or maybe weren’t even into electronic music. The crowd was more diverse.”

Part of this broad appeal had to do with the functional and physical layout of the space. For first-timers, China Chalet would reveal itself one part at a time, starting with a steep entry stairwell that led into a main dining room, for lounging and gossipping, and finally through a mirrored hallway onto a packed dance floor—which was notoriously known to shake under the weight of hundreds jumping in unison. Then, there was the venue's far-flung location, which only contributed to its off-the-grid allure. And of course, there was the marvelously relaxed policy on cigarettes and other typical club contraband. 

“There was an air of freedom that everyone just instantly knew,” Pawley explains. “If you had even been there once, you understood it. It was a weird oasis away from the typical nightlife setting. Our parties were all over the map—it wasn’t ever pure techno or house. We didn’t want to overly aestheticize them to curate any certain crowd.” 

Photo by Tom Keelan

In the late 2010s, such a blank canvas would attract an increasingly diverse cast of revelers, spurred on by a new guard of social media-powered creative voices in the city. Nightlife photographer Megan Walschlager recalls visiting China Chalet for the first time to attend Club Glam, the fashion it-kid affair launched in 2016 by the powerhouse collective of DJ-artist Dese Escobar and siblings, celebrity stylist Kyle Luu, and influencer Fiffany Luu. Escobar told the Times earlier this year that the trio wanted to create a party that was distinctly “post-identity, meaning that it’s not strictly queer or straight, young or old.” 

“Club Glam was iconic—I remember they threw a ‘granny ball’ and people over 30 got in free, which I always found wonderfully funny,” Walschlager says, adding that there was a built-in sense of community at Glam. “People felt more at home at China Chalet because the venue let party planners use the space as their canvas, so everyone felt very relaxed. Security was pretty chill, and it was easy to get a drink at the bar, so it felt more communal.” 

During its three-year reign, Club Glam was a pioneer in its own right, offering a fresh approach to nightlife that united identities and industries without conforming to their norms. Themed events were announced just a few days ahead of time, and lines frequently rounded the block. The party’s organic aggregation of interdisciplinary creatives often draws comparison to the long-gone clubs of New York City nightlife’s storied past. 

The venue’s reputation in the queer community was further mainstreamed by the 2017 launch of Ty Sunderland’s Heaven on Earth, which drew the likes of RuPaul’s Drag Race winner Aquaria, Balmain creative director Olivier Rousteing, and transgender pop icon Kim Petras. (As Sunderland retells it, the latter once famously grabbed the mic for an impromptu performance of her latest single.) The party would continue through 2020, with its last iteration taking place in February.

To this day, Sunderland credits the owner, Keith Ng, for his open-mindedness in allowing the party to thrive. “From 10 p.m. to midnight, we got to live our stripper-pole fantasies—no questions asked,” Sunderland says. “There were 400 gay men there on a weekend night. That’s hard to find in New York City in most places unless they’re LGBT establishments.” Kellogg, who first introduced Sunderand to Ng, adds of the China Chalet staff: “The coat-check girls would say, ‘Oh my god—there are so many pretty boys running around.’ They loved it.” 

Photo by Serichai Traipoom

For young queer people, including queer people of color, Sunderland’s party filled a much-needed void in gay nightlife far from the insularity of Hell’s Kitchen. Sunderland’s hosts were predominantly performers, artists, and partygoers of marginalized identities, explains drag queen Ruby Fox, who was known to captivate the dance floor at Heaven on Earth with an acrobatic routine between two stripper poles. 

“The artistry I push out into the world comes from the emotions I pull from people around me,” Fox says. “At China Chalet, in such close quarters, it was really exhilarating because I’m getting so much energy and so many positive vibes, whether that was spiritual or just a brain thing. But I would feel the wavelengths off of people to the point where I’d be like the Energizer bunny.” 

As COVID-19 brings an untimely end to tens of thousands of restaurants and bars across America, it’s hard not to feel as though a chapter of nightlife has closed. And while restaurants and other food purveyors are struggling to lobby for assistance, nightlife proprietors have even fewer options to obtain funding. That’s not to mention the thousands of freelancers and gig workers—performers, DJs, and party planners—who make their living by creating these spaces for community and expression. 

“It's funny—when quarantine hit, all of us who work in live music were all stressed about how our venues were going to stay open,” Pawley remembers. “I remember thinking, ‘At least we’ll always have China Chalet.’ That’s why its closing is such a hard blow. I really thought it would be the last thing standing.” 

But while China Chalet deserved a more fitting end—maybe one final party to commemorate its legacy—Pawley says what made it special is the creativity it fostered and the connections it created. “To this day, I met so many of my closest friends at China Chalet,” he says. “We’re all still friends. I really believe all the people in New York City are what made the parties great. I don’t think that energy will die.”

via VICE US - Munchies VICE US - Munchies via Mom's Kitchen Recipe Network Mom's Kitchen Recipe Network

[cyberpoetryballoon]

RIP China Chalet, Manhattan's Greatest Queer Nightlife Utopia

When DJ and nightlife entrepreneur Ty Sunderland created his flagship gay party, he envisioned stripper poles—an homage to the music video for Britney Spears’ 2007 single “Gimme More.” “But no strip club was going to let a gay promoter come in on a Friday night in New York City,” Sunderland recalls. “I asked if I could install stripper poles on the dance floor at China Chalet, and they said, ‘Yeah, totally.’ That’s how Heaven on Earth started.” 

One of the most beloved queer events in New York City in recent years, Heaven on Earth would also rank among the last of the great parties thrown at China Chalet, which shuttered last  month in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. Opened in 1975, the two-story Cantonese dim sum restaurant was the last of its kind in many ways. For one, it was one of the only remaining full-service, multi-room dim sum banquet halls in the Wall Street area, but most famously, it was one of only DIY party venues in Manhattan where New York City nightlife could be everything it’s been promised to be since Studio 54: liberating, inclusive, and spontaneous. 

It’s unclear when, exactly, China Chalet started moonlighting as a nightclub, even to those who worked there toward the end. (Following the venue’s closing, owner Keith Ng has declined to comment for press.) Alex Kellogg, the venue’s party booker at the time it closed, says he’d heard of parties rumored to have been thrown there by Madonna in the 80s, but that the venue’s most prolific era began in the late 2000s. In the last decade, the venue was visited by the likes of the Olsen twins, Timothée Chalamet, and Jay-Z—plus, pretty much any young person who went out in New York City.  

“Anyone could come, and you could do anything you wanted,” Kellogg recalls of his first impression of the space, at a party thrown by _Sex Magazine_’s Asher Penn in 2013. “There was no one specific ‘genre’ of people. It wasn’t like when you went to a Bushwick party and you didn’t look DIY techno, so they didn’t accept you. Skaters could show up in ripped jeans, and then Alexander Wang could walk in behind them. And they’d be on the same level. Or you’d see Chloe Sevigny there, dressed in a bucket T-shirt and jeans drinking whiskey at the bar.” 

Photo by Megan Walschlager

The end of the aughts was an inflection point for nightlife. As the moment of downtown stalwarts like Beatrice Inn and Bungalow 8 began to fade in 2009 amid the backdrop of the financial crisis, the city’s cool kids decamped to various new stomping grounds, from old-school holdovers like Indochine and Lucien to warehouses in far Brooklyn. In Manhattan, temporary pop-up arrangements helped party-throwers find loopholes around the city’s draconian nightlife laws.

By 2011, the New York Times waxed of China Chalet’s instantly recognizable “chintzy floral carpet and pagoda paintings” in a trend feature on fashion-and-art–scene pop-up clubs, which also included Madame Wong’s, an exclusive party once hosted in the Chinatown establishment Golden Unicorn. The same year, The Observer documented an indie film after-party at China Chalet with an attendance of “ex-pat jet setters, debauched hipsters, and local lowlifes.” And the fashion house Opening Ceremony collaborated with homegrown psych rock band Gang Gang Dance for an album release party at the restaurant. 

Curtis Everett Pawley, musician and co-founder of the party-label 38 NYC, recalls seeing China Chalet for the first time at that Opening Ceremony party, noting that in the mid 2010s, the venue evolved from a fashion insider hideaway to a mainstay for local electronic music fans. In 2014, Pawley met Kellogg at the China Chalet while the latter was hosting a New York City offshoot of London’s experimental JACK댄스 party featuring performers like Doss and Stadium. 

“I don’t know how to describe the scene at JACK댄스—it was just a lot of people from the internet,” Pawley says. “But it was distinctly different from a warehouse party and other electronic DJ-oriented underground stuff that happened in Brooklyn. There was a Manhattan contingency that didn’t really venture into Brooklyn or maybe weren’t even into electronic music. The crowd was more diverse.”

Part of this broad appeal had to do with the functional and physical layout of the space. For first-timers, China Chalet would reveal itself one part at a time, starting with a steep entry stairwell that led into a main dining room, for lounging and gossipping, and finally through a mirrored hallway onto a packed dance floor—which was notoriously known to shake under the weight of hundreds jumping in unison. Then, there was the venue's far-flung location, which only contributed to its off-the-grid allure. And of course, there was the marvelously relaxed policy on cigarettes and other typical club contraband. 

“There was an air of freedom that everyone just instantly knew,” Pawley explains. “If you had even been there once, you understood it. It was a weird oasis away from the typical nightlife setting. Our parties were all over the map—it wasn’t ever pure techno or house. We didn’t want to overly aestheticize them to curate any certain crowd.” 

Photo by Tom Keelan

In the late 2010s, such a blank canvas would attract an increasingly diverse cast of revelers, spurred on by a new guard of social media-powered creative voices in the city. Nightlife photographer Megan Walschlager recalls visiting China Chalet for the first time to attend Club Glam, the fashion it-kid affair launched in 2016 by the powerhouse collective of DJ-artist Dese Escobar and siblings, celebrity stylist Kyle Luu, and influencer Fiffany Luu. Escobar told the Times earlier this year that the trio wanted to create a party that was distinctly “post-identity, meaning that it’s not strictly queer or straight, young or old.” 

“Club Glam was iconic—I remember they threw a ‘granny ball’ and people over 30 got in free, which I always found wonderfully funny,” Walschlager says, adding that there was a built-in sense of community at Glam. “People felt more at home at China Chalet because the venue let party planners use the space as their canvas, so everyone felt very relaxed. Security was pretty chill, and it was easy to get a drink at the bar, so it felt more communal.” 

During its three-year reign, Club Glam was a pioneer in its own right, offering a fresh approach to nightlife that united identities and industries without conforming to their norms. Themed events were announced just a few days ahead of time, and lines frequently rounded the block. The party’s organic aggregation of interdisciplinary creatives often draws comparison to the long-gone clubs of New York City nightlife’s storied past. 

The venue’s reputation in the queer community was further mainstreamed by the 2017 launch of Ty Sunderland’s Heaven on Earth, which drew the likes of RuPaul’s Drag Race winner Aquaria, Balmain creative director Olivier Rousteing, and transgender pop icon Kim Petras. (As Sunderland retells it, the latter once famously grabbed the mic for an impromptu performance of her latest single.) The party would continue through 2020, with its last iteration taking place in February.

To this day, Sunderland credits the owner, Keith Ng, for his open-mindedness in allowing the party to thrive. “From 10 p.m. to midnight, we got to live our stripper-pole fantasies—no questions asked,” Sunderland says. “There were 400 gay men there on a weekend night. That’s hard to find in New York City in most places unless they’re LGBT establishments.” Kellogg, who first introduced Sunderand to Ng, adds of the China Chalet staff: “The coat-check girls would say, ‘Oh my god—there are so many pretty boys running around.’ They loved it.” 

Photo by Serichai Traipoom

For young queer people, including queer people of color, Sunderland’s party filled a much-needed void in gay nightlife far from the insularity of Hell’s Kitchen. Sunderland’s hosts were predominantly performers, artists, and partygoers of marginalized identities, explains drag queen Ruby Fox, who was known to captivate the dance floor at Heaven on Earth with an acrobatic routine between two stripper poles. 

“The artistry I push out into the world comes from the emotions I pull from people around me,” Fox says. “At China Chalet, in such close quarters, it was really exhilarating because I’m getting so much energy and so many positive vibes, whether that was spiritual or just a brain thing. But I would feel the wavelengths off of people to the point where I’d be like the Energizer bunny.” 

As COVID-19 brings an untimely end to tens of thousands of restaurants and bars across America, it’s hard not to feel as though a chapter of nightlife has closed. And while restaurants and other food purveyors are struggling to lobby for assistance, nightlife proprietors have even fewer options to obtain funding. That’s not to mention the thousands of freelancers and gig workers—performers, DJs, and party planners—who make their living by creating these spaces for community and expression. 

“It's funny—when quarantine hit, all of us who work in live music were all stressed about how our venues were going to stay open,” Pawley remembers. “I remember thinking, ‘At least we’ll always have China Chalet.’ That’s why its closing is such a hard blow. I really thought it would be the last thing standing.” 

But while China Chalet deserved a more fitting end—maybe one final party to commemorate its legacy—Pawley says what made it special is the creativity it fostered and the connections it created. “To this day, I met so many of my closest friends at China Chalet,” he says. “We’re all still friends. I really believe all the people in New York City are what made the parties great. I don’t think that energy will die.”

via VICE US - Munchies VICE US - Munchies via Mom's Kitchen Recipe Network Mom's Kitchen Recipe Network

[carolrhackett85282]

RIP China Chalet, Manhattan's Greatest Queer Nightlife Utopia

When DJ and nightlife entrepreneur Ty Sunderland created his flagship gay party, he envisioned stripper poles—an homage to the music video for Britney Spears’ 2007 single “Gimme More.” “But no strip club was going to let a gay promoter come in on a Friday night in New York City,” Sunderland recalls. “I asked if I could install stripper poles on the dance floor at China Chalet, and they said, ‘Yeah, totally.’ That’s how Heaven on Earth started.” 

One of the most beloved queer events in New York City in recent years, Heaven on Earth would also rank among the last of the great parties thrown at China Chalet, which shuttered last  month in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. Opened in 1975, the two-story Cantonese dim sum restaurant was the last of its kind in many ways. For one, it was one of the only remaining full-service, multi-room dim sum banquet halls in the Wall Street area, but most famously, it was one of only DIY party venues in Manhattan where New York City nightlife could be everything it’s been promised to be since Studio 54: liberating, inclusive, and spontaneous. 

It’s unclear when, exactly, China Chalet started moonlighting as a nightclub, even to those who worked there toward the end. (Following the venue’s closing, owner Keith Ng has declined to comment for press.) Alex Kellogg, the venue’s party booker at the time it closed, says he’d heard of parties rumored to have been thrown there by Madonna in the 80s, but that the venue’s most prolific era began in the late 2000s. In the last decade, the venue was visited by the likes of the Olsen twins, Timothée Chalamet, and Jay-Z—plus, pretty much any young person who went out in New York City.  

“Anyone could come, and you could do anything you wanted,” Kellogg recalls of his first impression of the space, at a party thrown by _Sex Magazine_’s Asher Penn in 2013. “There was no one specific ‘genre’ of people. It wasn’t like when you went to a Bushwick party and you didn’t look DIY techno, so they didn’t accept you. Skaters could show up in ripped jeans, and then Alexander Wang could walk in behind them. And they’d be on the same level. Or you’d see Chloe Sevigny there, dressed in a bucket T-shirt and jeans drinking whiskey at the bar.” 

Photo by Megan Walschlager

The end of the aughts was an inflection point for nightlife. As the moment of downtown stalwarts like Beatrice Inn and Bungalow 8 began to fade in 2009 amid the backdrop of the financial crisis, the city’s cool kids decamped to various new stomping grounds, from old-school holdovers like Indochine and Lucien to warehouses in far Brooklyn. In Manhattan, temporary pop-up arrangements helped party-throwers find loopholes around the city’s draconian nightlife laws.

By 2011, the New York Times waxed of China Chalet’s instantly recognizable “chintzy floral carpet and pagoda paintings” in a trend feature on fashion-and-art–scene pop-up clubs, which also included Madame Wong’s, an exclusive party once hosted in the Chinatown establishment Golden Unicorn. The same year, The Observer documented an indie film after-party at China Chalet with an attendance of “ex-pat jet setters, debauched hipsters, and local lowlifes.” And the fashion house Opening Ceremony collaborated with homegrown psych rock band Gang Gang Dance for an album release party at the restaurant. 

Curtis Everett Pawley, musician and co-founder of the party-label 38 NYC, recalls seeing China Chalet for the first time at that Opening Ceremony party, noting that in the mid 2010s, the venue evolved from a fashion insider hideaway to a mainstay for local electronic music fans. In 2014, Pawley met Kellogg at the China Chalet while the latter was hosting a New York City offshoot of London’s experimental JACK댄스 party featuring performers like Doss and Stadium. 

“I don’t know how to describe the scene at JACK댄스—it was just a lot of people from the internet,” Pawley says. “But it was distinctly different from a warehouse party and other electronic DJ-oriented underground stuff that happened in Brooklyn. There was a Manhattan contingency that didn’t really venture into Brooklyn or maybe weren’t even into electronic music. The crowd was more diverse.”

Part of this broad appeal had to do with the functional and physical layout of the space. For first-timers, China Chalet would reveal itself one part at a time, starting with a steep entry stairwell that led into a main dining room, for lounging and gossipping, and finally through a mirrored hallway onto a packed dance floor—which was notoriously known to shake under the weight of hundreds jumping in unison. Then, there was the venue's far-flung location, which only contributed to its off-the-grid allure. And of course, there was the marvelously relaxed policy on cigarettes and other typical club contraband. 

“There was an air of freedom that everyone just instantly knew,” Pawley explains. “If you had even been there once, you understood it. It was a weird oasis away from the typical nightlife setting. Our parties were all over the map—it wasn’t ever pure techno or house. We didn’t want to overly aestheticize them to curate any certain crowd.” 

Photo by Tom Keelan

In the late 2010s, such a blank canvas would attract an increasingly diverse cast of revelers, spurred on by a new guard of social media-powered creative voices in the city. Nightlife photographer Megan Walschlager recalls visiting China Chalet for the first time to attend Club Glam, the fashion it-kid affair launched in 2016 by the powerhouse collective of DJ-artist Dese Escobar and siblings, celebrity stylist Kyle Luu, and influencer Fiffany Luu. Escobar told the Times earlier this year that the trio wanted to create a party that was distinctly “post-identity, meaning that it’s not strictly queer or straight, young or old.” 

“Club Glam was iconic—I remember they threw a ‘granny ball’ and people over 30 got in free, which I always found wonderfully funny,” Walschlager says, adding that there was a built-in sense of community at Glam. “People felt more at home at China Chalet because the venue let party planners use the space as their canvas, so everyone felt very relaxed. Security was pretty chill, and it was easy to get a drink at the bar, so it felt more communal.” 

During its three-year reign, Club Glam was a pioneer in its own right, offering a fresh approach to nightlife that united identities and industries without conforming to their norms. Themed events were announced just a few days ahead of time, and lines frequently rounded the block. The party’s organic aggregation of interdisciplinary creatives often draws comparison to the long-gone clubs of New York City nightlife’s storied past. 

The venue’s reputation in the queer community was further mainstreamed by the 2017 launch of Ty Sunderland’s Heaven on Earth, which drew the likes of RuPaul’s Drag Race winner Aquaria, Balmain creative director Olivier Rousteing, and transgender pop icon Kim Petras. (As Sunderland retells it, the latter once famously grabbed the mic for an impromptu performance of her latest single.) The party would continue through 2020, with its last iteration taking place in February.

To this day, Sunderland credits the owner, Keith Ng, for his open-mindedness in allowing the party to thrive. “From 10 p.m. to midnight, we got to live our stripper-pole fantasies—no questions asked,” Sunderland says. “There were 400 gay men there on a weekend night. That’s hard to find in New York City in most places unless they’re LGBT establishments.” Kellogg, who first introduced Sunderand to Ng, adds of the China Chalet staff: “The coat-check girls would say, ‘Oh my god—there are so many pretty boys running around.’ They loved it.” 

Photo by Serichai Traipoom

For young queer people, including queer people of color, Sunderland’s party filled a much-needed void in gay nightlife far from the insularity of Hell’s Kitchen. Sunderland’s hosts were predominantly performers, artists, and partygoers of marginalized identities, explains drag queen Ruby Fox, who was known to captivate the dance floor at Heaven on Earth with an acrobatic routine between two stripper poles. 

“The artistry I push out into the world comes from the emotions I pull from people around me,” Fox says. “At China Chalet, in such close quarters, it was really exhilarating because I’m getting so much energy and so many positive vibes, whether that was spiritual or just a brain thing. But I would feel the wavelengths off of people to the point where I’d be like the Energizer bunny.” 

As COVID-19 brings an untimely end to tens of thousands of restaurants and bars across America, it’s hard not to feel as though a chapter of nightlife has closed. And while restaurants and other food purveyors are struggling to lobby for assistance, nightlife proprietors have even fewer options to obtain funding. That’s not to mention the thousands of freelancers and gig workers—performers, DJs, and party planners—who make their living by creating these spaces for community and expression. 

“It's funny—when quarantine hit, all of us who work in live music were all stressed about how our venues were going to stay open,” Pawley remembers. “I remember thinking, ‘At least we’ll always have China Chalet.’ That’s why its closing is such a hard blow. I really thought it would be the last thing standing.” 

But while China Chalet deserved a more fitting end—maybe one final party to commemorate its legacy—Pawley says what made it special is the creativity it fostered and the connections it created. “To this day, I met so many of my closest friends at China Chalet,” he says. “We’re all still friends. I really believe all the people in New York City are what made the parties great. I don’t think that energy will die.”

via VICE US - Munchies VICE US - Munchies via Mom's Kitchen Recipe Network Mom's Kitchen Recipe Network

[sebtheromanianprince]

A Night With No Moon

Pairing: Sebastian x Succubus Reader

Words: 2062

Warnings: Some language, considerations of murder/kidnapping. 

Summary: You’re a succubus from a powerful line on the prowl for your next victim when one night, a chance encounter changes the dynamic between the hunter and the hunted. 

A/N: This is my first time posting my work so I’d appreciate some feedback! Not sure how many parts this is going to be but I hope you all will stick around. It WILL get NSFW real quick and there well be dub/con so please be careful. (All mistakes are mine. I tried to edit.)

It’s not always the unique smell of arousal and longing that attracts you to your victims. On occasion it will be the forlorn call of a sincere heart. The beat of such a one is like a dog whistle to your heightened succubus senses. Paired with heartbreak, it’s the most delectable kind of treat for the damned. This particular mix has a name among your kind: mors amoris, death of love. In your several hundred years of existence you have only had the privilege of taking two such morsels, both gone before your thirst could be sated. The thought makes you smile. There has never been a succubus that could be satisfied by a mortal for long. At most they are an ephemeral pet and at the very least, a snack.

Your belly gives an uncomfortable twinge to remind you that you haven’t eaten in a while. Succubus don’t need to feed often, but like every other pleasure it is one that you love to indulge on a whim. This is why you are most likely to be encountered at a nightclub. A dark venue crowded with people and their lowered inhibitions is your preferred hunting ground for various reasons. You can take as little as a few sips in a corner or bait your meal to a more private place. Sometimes the club will be owned by a fellow succubus or her thrall. In that case you needn’t go far to clean up after yourself.

 The club you currently find yourself in is run by humans. It has a spacious dance floor, with a bar on one side and a raised platform on the other, both spanning the length of the room. On the ends are stairs leading up to a second floor filled with black semi-circle couches, small tables, stools, and various nooks half hidden with decorative ceiling-to-floor cloth. The hot press of bodies is delicious. The smell of sweat and skin has you licking your lips as you move through with the crowd to the beat of the music vibrating up from the floor. Hunger makes your senses more acute.

  A particularly tantalizing scent makes your head turn to its source: a tall, dark haired man. His jawline is sharp, curving towards a dimpled chin. Dark eyelashes shadow steely blue eyes as he watches a long-haired woman dance seductively with another man. Even from a distance you can see his full lips become a hard line. You make your way forward, nose sampling his smell as you note his expression become more and more pained. Under the pounding of the music you hear it, the halting beat of a breaking heart. The sound sends shivers down your spine, making you quicken your stride.

At this point you are near enough that you are immediately hit with his new scent: mors amoris. The undertones of unfulfilled desire have your fangs growing in your mouth, and not a moment too soon. Three other succubae have caught a trace of the fragrance and are making their way towards the man even as he knocks back a shot with closed eyes. Before they can advance any further you stake your claim, lips curling back from your teeth. At a decibel too low for humans to hear, you growl out a warning, eyes flashing in the near darkness of the club. The demonesses stop and lock glowing eyes with you, sizing you up. Whoever this man is, he is too much of a delicacy to just give up without a challenge.

You watch them begin to circle, their forms becoming immaterial to move easily in the crowded venue. With your back to your chosen prey, you adopt a defensive stance and use your last remaining option to stop the fight before it begins: your bloodline. Digging your sharp nails into your palm, you draw blood and hold your hand aloft. Red pools in the cup of your fingers and with it the sharp aroma of power and age. You are a daughter of Eisheth, the third queen of demons, and as such outrank them by a wide margin. The force of your authority compels them to bend to your claim. You answer their glowering faces with a smirk as they slink away into the shadows, unable to break the chain of rule that governs your kind.

A slight tingling blossoms in your hand as your flesh knits together, removing any trace of blood from your skin. You turn in time to catch a man with dark almond shaped eyes sling a friendly arm around your target’s broad shoulders.

“Hey Seb! You gonna have some shots with the rest of us or are you getting shitfaced all by yourself?”

You casually take a seat at a table near the bar as you listen to their conversation, throwing up a glamour to subtly repel any unwanted attention. You don’t need common blood pestering you while you analyze your prey.

Seb gives his friend a halfhearted smile as he rubs his neck in a tired fashion. “I was thinking of calling it a night actually.”

“What? Old age catching up to you already, brotha?” He breaks the one-armed hug only to gently punch Seb in the chest.

He laughs softly, but with no humor. “More like the shots are going to my head. I need to get back while I can.”

The other man quirks a thick black eyebrow. “What are best friends for if not to drag your drunk ass home? You have me after all!”

“And I’m grateful, Charles- “

“Ah shit.”

“What?”

“You called me Charles.”

“That’s your name isn’t it?”

“You only call me that if some heavy shit is happening. What’s wrong, man?” Charles crosses his arms against his chest, a concerned no-bullshit expression on his Asian features.

“Nothing,” Seb replies, glancing towards the dance floor.

The catalyst to his heartbreak is now wrapped up in the arms of the man she had been dancing with. Her honey curls obscure her face as the two kiss passionately. It’s an obvious gimmick, the kind that attention seekers employ to make an ex flame jealous. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at such a blatant display. Seb on the other hand, quickly looks away to the shot glass he’s twirling in his hand. He sets it down with more force than necessary on the bar’s glossy countertop.

Charles places a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “How about we get outta this overrated club and marathon some Game of Thrones at your place? I’ll even order us some pizza.”

You hold your breath as Seb considers the offer. The well-meaning friend is throwing a wrench in your plans to taste your newfound treasure before sunrise. If he is to be yours completely you must take him tonight. The risk of another snatching him up is too high given how fine a specimen he is, how rare. You need every hour before daylight to have him under your thrall. If it comes to it, you will not hesitate to remove this irritating obstacle permanently.

“Thanks man, but I’m not gonna be good company. I need some time to myself,” Seb says apologetically.

Charles nods in understanding and pats him once on the back before letting him go. “Just don’t you shut yourself away, alright?”

“I won’t,” Seb reassures him. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Hang in there, Sebastian.”

With a final side hug, the two part ways. Skirting the mass of moving bodies, Sebastian makes his way to the club’s main doors, a stern look on his handsome features. He doesn’t spare a second glance to the woman still wrapped around her new lover, unaware she is no longer the center of his attention. You follow closely behind him but still watchful of any threats, your body now immaterial and blending with the shadows in between the flashing neon lights.

The night is a breath of fresh air when you both make it outside. Your glamour still holds and you are overlooked by the passerby as you tail Sebastian down the street. He walks with purpose, his strides long and unfaltering as he leaves the nightlife behind. His right hand clenches and unclenches repeatedly, an outward sign of his emotional turmoil. Your steps make no sound as you round a corner, hot on his heels. With no one around that you can sense, you allow yourself the luxury of another of your abilities and float up off the pavement as if gravity itself has willingly relinquished its hold on you.

You rise higher in the air until you are hovering several feet above Sebastian. This affords you a bird’s eye view of him, which is why you catch the sudden jolt of surprise his body makes. He stops and whirls around, his eyes searching his surroundings like a startled animal. You drape yourself in the air as if it were a particularly comfortable bed, watching him struggle with the primal instinct of being hunted. Most humans in this era are so oblivious that their survival instinct gives no warning to impending danger until it is too late. It’s unusual that he should sense you, but you are in a way pleased.

Seeing no sign of anyone, he continues down the road. You allow yourself the luxury of hanging back only to watch his anxious looks and quick steps. Both hands are balled into fists and you have no doubt his pupils are wide to see more clearly in the semi darkness. Your sensitive hearing picks up his heart beats. They’re coming slightly faster, his lungs also working to keep pace with his heart. Sebastian’s scent grows a note of fear that makes you smile widely, fangs protruding in want. You can’t help yourself from making a hungry growl deep in your throat, low enough to be felt more than heard.

The effect is abrupt. The small hairs at the back of his neck stand on end and he whips around again, eyes wide. You glide on your back above him, craning your neck to see him trying to figure out if he heard someone or if his mind is playing tricks on him. Sebastian walks backwards, still searching for any sign of movement or a suspicious sound. Playing cat and mouse amuses you so much that you continue to float on past him, admiring the back of his head and tense shoulders as you go. He turns on his heel once more and you get a full view of his scared face as he begins to jog. You quickly realize he is heading to a brightly lit main street where cars and people can be seen going by in the distance.

You weigh your options carefully as you begin to slow your effortless drifting. You could incapacitate him here, right now, and take him to your hideaway. It could be easily done; one swift blow to the head and he’d be out like a light. But then again, you know so little of your prey. The man’s sudden disappearance could create too many problems, especially with that meddlesome friend of his. The instant communication and openness of these times was a consistent hindrance as well. A touch of a finger on his phone and he could call for help.

Sebastian has nearly reached the relative safety of the populated street. You could kill him and make it look like the work of a criminal. He would not be a hindrance for long if you drank your fill and left him to die. You mulled this over as your eyes raked over his lithe form. He would not be able to outrun you, much less fight you off. It would be such a waste of that heady blood of his though, to finish him so quickly. With that thought you stop your pursuit and allow him to make it under the bright street lights. He leans out towards the road with an arm raised. A cab stops in front of him, it’s dark windows reflecting his image. As he climbs into the back of the car you descend until your heeled feet once again stand on firm ground and decide on a course of action. You will go the traditional route. It has been a long time since you’ve made a house call.

[evanstandefensesquad-blog]

Paper Moon Part 13

MB - @thecountessakasha here once more. Part 13 is finally finished. There’s a bunch of smut in it to make up for the last chapter.

I’m going to tag a couple people who I’ve told about this and my really special love who keeps betaing this for me @evansscruff - thank you, darling.

A/N: Bucky and Steve end up at a venue that has a 40s night and meet an OFC, Melissa Rose, a singer in a local club. They both are smitten by her, and start to vie for her affections. They end up finding out more about themselves in the process.

This honestly started out as maybe a one shot but as I got going, I decided it’ll be chapters. How many? No frigging idea. This is my absolute first time writing a fic of any sort and yes I did base the OFC on myself. I hope y'all enjoy.

Word count: 3200+ because I am a wordy bitch.

Warnings: Minimal angst. Mega smut. And as always, a lil fluff.

STEVE’S POV

Bucky and I finished cleaning up the kitchen while Melissa was still in the bedroom. We could hear her tearing apart her closet and muttering to herself obviously trying to find the perfect thing to wear to the tower.

“Maybe we should go help her, man. She’s gonna drive herself crazy.” He’s running a hand through his hair and looking at me with his brows knit in worry.

I glance down the hallway as I hear the thud of shoes obviously hitting the wall. “I mean, maybe? I don’t know. I don’t know how to do this. To navigate this.”

Laughing softly, Bucky waves a hand at me. “It’s fine, Steve. I got it.” He gestures to the living room, “Maybe you can clean the rest of this place up while I help her, alright?”

“Alright. That’s sounds like a plan.” I get to work on the living room, straightening up. I didn’t intend to do a deep clean, but as I got into it, I figured I may as well. She deserves the world, but for now a nice clean apartment will do.

While cleaning, I’m also exploring. Learning more and more about her. She clearly values comfort over appearance. An overstuffed couch, two big recliners, an old oak coffee table covered in little nooks and crannies to organize things. Warm and worn hardwood floors, small lamps placed here and there give an inviting atmosphere.

Floor to ceiling windows make up the wall her couch faces. They give a perfect view of the busy city street below. The other three walls are lined with bookshelves that are stuffed to the gills with everything from classics to non-fiction tomes on the Holy Land to current newspapers and magazines.

I run my fingers over the spines of the various books as I dust, feeling as if I can get a sense of her by touching things she obviously holds dear. These books are well loved, well used.

There are pictures in frames everywhere. Family, friends, fans I assume. Her stunning wide smile is ever present in all the ones she’s in. Even those that are clearly her as a child. I love how she’s memorialized these experiences.

Making my way around my eyes land on one that gives me pause. It looks older, like a picture from my time. A beautiful young woman with dark waves, near crystalline eyes, and a small smile that looks as if she’s holding a secret.

She looks so much like Melissa.

I make a mental note to ask her about it.

New Orleans street scenes, shots of the Gulf of Mexico, fleur-de-lis, magnolias, oak trees, pelicans, and stylized skulls in the manner of Dia de Los Muertos make up most of the art pieces that join the photographs littered about her apartment. Nearly every square inch of wall and available table space is covered by something.

I spy a couple of hand woven reed baskets overflowing with spare blankets, a large standing empty ashtray by one recliner, and a huge brass hookah with what looks to be about 4 pipes is in one corner. I’ve never seen her smoke, never tasted it on her. Maybe she has it for guests.

On a little table perched beside one of the recliners is a large, messy stack of sheet music with lyrics handwritten on the pages. I gather the papers, intending to merely put them in a more orderly pile but curiosity gets the better of me and start to thumb through them.

Looking them over, I see she has written little notes for herself near the titles. “Tennessee Whiskey in the style of Chris Stapleton. At Last in the style of Etta James. Between the Bars in the style of Madeleine Peyroux. Hallelujah in the style of k. d. lang. Brave by Jhene Aiko. WWOZ by BTE.” I’m reading them aloud, wondering what they would sound like in her voice.

I come to the next one and my eyes widen, “Fucked My Way Up To the Top by Lana del Rey.” With grin and a shake of my head, I straighten the papers and set them back on the little end table.

“Find something interesting, Steve?”

I nearly jump out of my skin at the proximity of her voice. “Holy shit, Melissa. You can’t sneak up on an old man like that.”

Her head falls backwards as she gives one of her full, loud laughs, “And here I thought you were a super soldier.” She reaches out running a fingernail down my forearm.

Turning to face her, my eyes take her in. “Melissa…you look great.” I can see nearly all of her tattoos, the ones decorating her legs, her arms, her shoulders, a tiny peek of the one down her spine. My knees weaken a bit when I realize I can also see the outline of those delicious little barbells through the material of the dress.

She looks down at her dangerously low cut sundress then back up to me, her cheeks and chest flushing pink at the compliment. She hooks a thumb over her shoulder, “Bucky’s suggestion.”

I see him grinning behind her nodding his head. “As soon as I saw it, stuffed all the way in the back of the closet I might add, I knew that’s what I’d want to see her in. Seems you like it, too.”

“I do!” I grab her in my arms, spinning her around, her feet swinging off the floor. She starts laughing loudly, “Bucky help me!”

“Hey, you’re on your own, Angel. Ya gotta take the consequences for being so beautiful.”

She groans loudly at the cheesy statement. “God, y'all are dorky.” I start to laugh as I plant her back on the floor, taking note of the black strappy sandals adorning her perfectly pedicured feet.

I lean down kissing her gently, taking her a little by surprise. “I was just looking around. I love seeing all the pictures you have.” Gesturing to the one I was most curious about I continue “Who is this beautiful dame? You look an awful lot like her.”

Melissa reaches out for the picture, holding it gingerly in her hands. “My maternal grandmother. She’s the one who gifted me with her knowledge of wartime era fashion. Her and my grandfather taught me all the songs. They also taught me all the dances. Everyone in the family always said I was her spitting image.”

Bucky gives a soft hum of approval, “Then we owe her a great debt.”

She brushes her fingers tenderly over the image. “They all said it was like she’d been made again in me. I was just like her in temperament and personality. Looks, too. Except for one thing.” Her eyes meet mine. “She had ice blue eyes and I ended up with the Irish green from my father’s side.” She shrugs a little.

“And a stunning green they are. My favorite color.” I slide my hands down her arms then take her hands in mine. “Are you ready, doll? I know this is still very overwhelming for you. But we’ll be there. Right beside you. Each step of the way.”

“They’re gonna love you.” Bucky’s low voice comes out muffled as he’s taken up the position standing behind her, his lips attached to one of her exposed shoulders.

She wraps an arm around my waist resting her head on my chest, then pulls Bucky closer behind her. “If you two think you’re ready, then I’m ready. I won’t say I’m not scared. I am. But some things in life take risk. And I believe you two to be worth that risk.” Her eyes find mine as she speaks the last sentence, and I can see the worry. I can also see how sincere and how heartfelt her words are.

“Merci, Maîtresse.”

“Thank you, Angel.”

BUCKY’S POV

While I make Steve clean her apartment, I quietly slide into her bedroom. What I see makes me stop in my tracks. She has torn apart her closet, her dressers. Shoes and clothes are strewn everywhere.

She’s sitting on the floor, back against the bed looking on the verge of tears. “Angel? Melissa? Are you alright?”

Shaking her head she gestures toward the room, “I have nothing to wear. I can't… I can’t go to the tower. I can’t meet the team. They’re your family, Bucky. I need to make a good impression.” Her voice is small, soft, tinged with fear.

I sit on the floor beside her and gather her in my arms, “Hey, hey. It’s ok.” My fingers slide up the sides of neck and I cup her cheeks turning her face to mine. “Listen to me. You’re beautiful. No matter what you wear, you are beautiful. I want you to be comfortable. That’s my main concern.”

“It’s going to be enough of a shock to them about you and Steve. When they meet me and realize the part I play in this, they’re going to hate me.” She’s trembling as she says these words. “And so are your adoring fans. I just …I don’t fit the bill. Not to mention when we go public with our relationship. People won’t be able to handle it.”

I tighten my grip on her. “Melissa, we are all adults here. This is our choice. So what if people don’t like it? They don’t live our lives.” My thumbs brush her cheeks. “And Steve and I want you. More than that, we need you. Neither he nor I have felt as good in our lives as we have since you came along. It fits. You fit. You belong with us.”

She seems as if she has some reply, some counter, but she closes her mouth and just looks at me. Really looks at me. After a moment, she places her hand on my chest and shakes her head. “Oh, Bucky.”

Seeing her like this, I’m overcome. She is perfection and she just doesn’t believe it. I give a shake of my head and suddenly I’m pressing my lips to hers. Her eyes widen a second then she’s kissing me back, sighing softly into my mouth. Her small hands grab for me, tugging at my shirt.

My fingers slip into her robe, pushing it off her shoulders to let it pool around her hips. I’m groaning against her skin as I move from her lips to her jaw making my way to her chin. “How can you not see that? How can I make you understand?”

She’s melting under my touch, her fingers slipping into my hair pulling me close. My lips move against the hollow of her neck, “Everything about you makes me crave more and more.” My tongue darts out licking along her collarbone, teeth nipping at the muscle connecting her neck and shoulder.

I have never heard such delicious sounds from anyone in my life.

“Bucky…” she’s whining. “I have to get dressed, baby boy.” I slip my hand lower, the backs of my knuckles just barely brushing against the wetness between her legs.

I growl against her neck, “But you’re soaking for me, Angel. How can I resist?” My fingers part her folds and I find her little swollen bundle of nerves, pressing against it lightly.

A gasp falls from her lips and I bring my left hand up to cover her mouth. “Shhhhh, lover.” She gives a little whimper as I pull her onto my lap, and I quickly shimmy my sweats down. My hardness slides against the damp heat between her legs making me groan.

Our lips crash together, the kiss all tongues and teeth. She wraps her body around mine as I slide into her, sheathing myself fully. “Oh fuck…” she whispers, her forehead pressing against my chest. Her fingers glide into my hair and she yanks my head back forcefully, her eyes meeting mine.

The gaze is heated, longing and we stare at each other for a moment before her hips start to move a bit, letting me know it’s ok to begin. I grip her ass, fingers digging into her flesh as I start the push pull of her on my cock.

“Quickly, baby boy. Harder…” She has one hand still tightly wrapped in my hair, tugging. Her other raking nails down my back filling me with a shiver of sweet pleasure at the pain. Her hips rock in time with my thrusts.

I take one hand and slip it between us, finger tripping over her clit in small circles as I keep thrusting up into her. “That’s it Bucky baby… yes just like that..fuck I’m close…”

She bites into my shoulder to muffle her screams as her orgasm washes over her. “Fuck Angel you’re so Goddamn tight…!” and I’m spilling into her, her climax setting off mine. We shudder together then still, breathing heavily wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“I hope I didn’t break your skin.” She laughs darkly, licking the spot where she bit me.

I snort, “Somehow I don’t think you’ll lose sleep over it if you did.” I pull back and place a kiss on the tip of her scrunched up nose. “Now, where were we? Oh yes. Let’s find you something to wear.”

MELISSA’S POV

Yep. The death of me.

I’m dressed in a rather revealing sundress that Bucky picked out. The bodice of which is a deep blue that fades into a lovely aqua by the time it reaches the hem resting just above my knees. I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with it. I do love these strappy gladiator style sandals that wrap up and around my calves, though.

Both he and Steve have assured me I’ve never looked more beautiful and that it’s the perfect thing to wear for the “mission” we’re undertaking. If they are happy, then I am happy.

They’re currently my giant bookends as we walk the few blocks toward the tower, arms linked, chatting between ourselves. Occasionally they’ll lean over me and peck little kisses on each other’s lips and it makes my heart swell.

I look up at each of them just before we reach the tower. A little gasp comes from me as I get choked up, teeth pressing harshly into my bottom lip. “Y'all. Can we just …can we hold up for a second?”

They stop immediately looking down at me as I stare at the massive building across the street from us. My eyes move from the bottom all the way to the top spire and the gigantic A adorning it.

I’m taking slow, deep breaths. Steve moves in front of me, fingers sliding around the back of my neck, thumb brushing my cheek. “It’s ok, Melissa. I promise. We promise.” I feel Bucky’s arm around my waist, squeezing my side reassuringly.

“I trust you. Both of you.” I reach for Steve, kissing him hard. Pulling away from him I turn and do the same with Bucky. I close my eyes, once again taking several deep breaths. My hands clench and unclench. After a long moment I link my arms into each of theirs and give a sharp, quick nod of my head. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

Stepping off the curb and crossing the street we make our way into the lobby. A couple of quick turns, a couple of quick hellos to random employees and we reach a deserted corridor. A female voice comes from somewhere, greeting the boys.

“Captain Rogers. Sergeant Barnes. Glad to see you’re back.”

Steve pipes up, “F.R.I.D.A.Y., we’ve brought a guest. She’ll be visiting often. Her name is Melissa Rose. Can you please set up a profile for her?”

A profile? What the fuck…?

As Steve speaks to this… F.R.I.D.A.Y., Bucky realizes I’ve frozen in place. His fingers link through mine and he runs a hand down my arm, “It’s ok. It’s just a matter of precaution. We want you to be safe here. And that requires some security measures.” He brings my hand to his lips, placing a feather light kiss on my palm.

“Of course, Captain Rogers.” Steve guides me to a wall with scanners and such on it. “State your name, please, ma'am.”

“Melissa Anne Rose.”

“Now, please step forward and place your hand against the plate. Lean in and keep your eyes open so that I may scan those as well.”

At least her voice is comforting. I do as she asks, giving her a scan of my right palm as well as my eyes. Suddenly, red beams are scanning my whole body. After a few seconds, she speaks again.

“Thank you, Ms. Rose. I have everything I need.”

“O..okay.” I turn to the boys, “Well, now y'all know everything, huh?” my lips quirking into a small smirk as they laugh.

“Come on, Angel. Let’s head up.” Bucky takes my hand, pulling me to the elevator as Steve follows.

“Lounge floor, F.R.I.D.A.Y., if you please.”

“Of course, Captain Rogers.”

The elevator doors close and suddenly they’re both pressing against me. Steve has his face buried in the crook of my neck as he’s pushing me back against Bucky’s chest. “You look so beautiful, it’s been hard keeping my hands to myself.” He paws at me, making my knees weak. Bucky is holding me up, keeping me steady on my feet as Steve takes advantage of the small space.

I feel his thumbs scratch against the material covering my nipples and it’s then he realizes I’m not wearing a bra. He tugs lightly on the barbells, grinning against my neck. “Melissa… you’re so naughty.”

“This dress doesn’t have a need for a bra, mon petit Capitaine.” I feel Bucky’s hands on my hips, gripping them tightly as Steve growls against my neck. His hand travels down reaching the hem of the dress. He tugs then lifts it slightly, rubbing his fingers against my clothed core. I immediately start to soak through the flimsy cotton, my knees buckling, “Shit, Steve.”

I hear Bucky chuckle darkly behind me. “What’s wrong, Angel?”

“You know Goddamn well what’s wrong, Sergeant.” Steve takes advantage of Bucky distracting me to slip two fingers inside the waistband and into my dripping cunt. “Steve! Fucking hell…”

“Oh god, Maîtresse. You’re soaking.” He quickly kneels down, his strong arms parting my legs as Bucky continues to hold me up. I feel Steve’s tongue press against the fabric covering me, then he roughly pulls it aside to assault my folds with his mouth.

I cry out loudly which brings Bucky’s hand to cover my mouth. “Quiet, Angel. No need to arouse suspicion.” He drops his mouth to my neck, nibbling and licking as Steve devours my pussy. His grunts and groans sending vibrations all through my body.

I cum hard and quick, all over Steve’s talented mouth, my screams muffled by Bucky’s hand. I release Steve’s hair, which I had bunched tightly in my right hand, and he stands after fixing my underwear and my dress. Licking his lips, he grins, leaning in to kiss me. God I love tasting myself on their tongues.

He then grabs Bucky over me, kissing him hard so that they share my flavor. I feel Steve’s hand on my breast, tugging gently at the barbell there through the fabric of my dress. I giggle softly, trying to fix his hair.

Separating as the doors open to the lounge floor, we exit the elevator with huge smiles plastered on our faces. As we step into the large room, the boys grab my hands in theirs as they bracket me. Steve gives a wave to the room.

“Hey guys.”

Tagging:

@alievans007 @buckysbackpackbuckle @justareader @anice-1 @ya-girl-evanstrash @hardcollectiontrashworld @mewsiex Thanks everyone!

[charetfriarsclub-blog]

How To Produce Excellent Comedy For Your Business Vacation Party (From an Expert Comedian)

A vacation party is normally a time for event and a good funny show can be a terrific method to thank your staff members for a task well done. However there are some rules to think about if you want to ensure that you get the best outcomes for your company and from your talent Bruce Charet.

 DISCOVERING YOUR TALENT.

 There are a great deal of methods to look for comedians, and whether you go through a lecture agent, speaker bureau, funny agent, or check out your regional funny club, here are a few things to think about.

 First, business funny is various. If you see somebody at a local club and they're funny and reasonably tidy, there's absolutely nothing wrong with putting them on your list. However make certain that they understand the rules, since a bar comic is typically comfortable utilizing raw language and material that may not fit your crowd.

 So have a look at their websites, or much better still, see them live if possible, and call among their referrals. When you view their video, attempt to glance the whole program to get a sense of how everything circulations, rather than just presume that everything will resemble what they place on their emphasize reel.

 Some comics, including myself, work all kinds of different places, and we are able to change our product from show to reveal depending on the forum. But I've also been doing this for over 3 years and know what's right for each crowd. The danger with a young inexperienced comic is that he or she may share great intents, however utilize unsuitable product if they feel they're not getting enough laughs, so keep that in mind.

 As soon as you have actually chosen your talent, ensure that they consent to your guidelines. More than likely this suggests no cursing, no potty humour and avoiding material that is politically incorrect. It assists to review some of their jokes in advance to offer specific examples of what's fine and what would be considered crossing the line.

 Now, it's true some smaller sized business have looser cultures. My partner operates in a workplace wherein charges shout and curse all day long, so if they hired a comedian for a celebration, the limits would most likely be a lot looser, but even then, an excellent business comic understands to err on the side of safety. Whatever you decide, use due diligence and do your research.

 AGREEMENTS.

 When you've chosen your acts, make sure all celebrations have a signed contract and a deposit. I usually get 50% which secures the date for the business, so they're guaranteed I'm not going to take an eleventh-hour deal for better money (not that I would), but it likewise ensures that I won't lose cash if I have actually refused work and the boss all of a sudden chooses to employ his second cousin's nephew.

 COST.

 It's hard for me to give specifics due to the fact that it really depends upon the size of group and venue for your celebration. If your company is small, the budget plan is clearly going to be rather different then it would be for a Fortune 500. The bottom line is, provide yourself a variety to patronize and be prepared to be versatile if you find a specific act that you simply need to have.

 Keep in mind, the better acts are in higher need, so they generally do charge more, but there are lots of fairly priced comics who may not be family names, however will still do an excellent task for your group. But take care about hiring a comic that is available in at a price that's too low. They might be just starting or may not have much experience in the corporate market.

 Keep in mind that the comedy program is probably going to be the important things your co-workers keep in mind most about the party, so be careful not to be cent wise and dollar foolish.

 DEVELOPING A GOOD COMEDY ENVIRONMENT AT THE VENUE.

 I have actually done comedy in all sort of scenarios and absolutely nothing is harder for a comedian than to enter front of a rowdy crowd who wants to drink, talk and mingle, and could not care less that there's a show. So the number 1 rule is to deal with the program with due regard. If the party coordinators behave as if it's background sound, the audience will usually respond in kind and the comics will be difficult-pressed to overcome that. But if you set it upright, it can be golden.

 Wherever you hold the occasion, try to be sure your group has its own separate space so you prevent the opportunity of a loud bar or too much noise from other clients.

 Let your group understand that there's a show ahead of time and stress that if anyone just absolutely has to be talking for whatever factor, that they need to take it outside. Then make sure cell-phones are all off and have somebody from the business present the comedian so that everybody focuses.

 It's also crucial that everybody is seated, due to the fact that when too many people are standing, they're agitated, and it's harder for even the very best comic to hold their attention. And finally, do not start the program during the meal because no one actually chuckles too much when they're chewing. So try to do the comedy either after the meal, get the wait-staff to stop moving and provide everyone a 5-minute heads-up right prior to so they can use the centres.

 NOISE AND LIGHTS.

 Sound and lights are more vital then you may believe, so it's constantly an excellent concept to have your entertainer test both before the program when the room is empty.

 A lot of hotel meeting room have tiny little round speakers developed into the ceiling. Utilize these only as a last hope. Bad noise can really injure a comedy show, due to the fact that if the audience can't plainly understand what the comic is saying, the humour isn't going to fly.

 Lots of comedians have their own noise devices. I have a portable stereo that's good for about 250 individuals. If I'm doing a local show and I'm not exactly sure of the venue conditions, I throw it in the car simply in case. However bear in mind, if you require the comic to bring their own equipment, there is typically an extra charge.

 Among the trickiest parts about setting the best tone for comedy is the lighting.

 Basically, the total goal is to get the comedian well lit (however not blinded), and have the audience dim however not dark, which increases the intimacy element and makes it more comfortable for everyone to laugh. It likewise helps since the comic can still see the faces and body movement of the audience throughout the show.

 AUDIENCE POSITIONING.

 If you've ever been to a funny club you understand that everyone is usually packed in like sardines. There are 2 factors for this. First, the more individuals the club suits their room, the more money they're clearly making, but second, is that it greatly increases laughter.

 While, you might not want to squeeze your workers quite that securely, do attempt to keep the tables fairly close together and near the comedian. Laughter truly is contagious and this is among the most important elements to an effective show.

 LENGTH OF SHOW.

 If you want a full funny show with 3 comics, about 90 minutes has to do with right, with the emcee normally doing 15-20, the middle about 30, and the headliner about 45. If you employ just 1 or 2 acts, anything from 30-75 minutes is fairly typical, however it really depends on whether you desire comedy to be a spice component for your celebration, or to work as the main course.

 TIME OF DAY.

 The very best time for a comic is normally in the evening, but I have actually worked corporate functions at every possible time of day. Almost whenever can work, however if your celebration remains in the morning, I recommend that you try not to start off with funny as the very first course, because your crowd merely will not be all that alert. I've performed at conventions as early as 8 am, and I have actually succeeded, however it's a really different response at 8 AM then it is even an hour later on.

 MAKE THE COMIC( S) COMFORTABLE - IT ACTUALLY DOES HELP THE SHOW.

 Attempt to make your comic( s) be as comfy as possible. If there's food, and it's not prohibitively costly, we always appreciate a great meal.

 It's likewise handy to have a place in the back of the space, or much better still, in another space, for your comics to hang out before the show.

 Many comics are quite low maintenance. We perform in many different circumstances that we're normally quite flexible, however the more you make us feel welcome, the much easier it is for us to concentrate on our job - which is to offer you a terrific show.

 In my own profession, I've entertained at the NY Stock Exchange, opened for leading name acts at major theatres in front of thousands of individuals, been on national TV shows, and appeared at some truly mindboggling corporate events. I've also been at bars, clubs, coffee homes, libraries and drug rehabilitation. No matter what the location or occasion, the less extraneous stuff we have to fret about, the better it is for everything.

 OTHER FUNNY CHOICES - ROASTS AND PUT-ONS.

 Roasts are a fun method to let off some steam about workplace politics and business policies, however again, make certain you get someone who understands what they're doing.

 This is one of the important things I concentrate on and I love doing it, but it's a lot of composing so I do charge more. However what you're getting in return is a lot more customized show.

 When a comic is doing jokes about the business policies and some of your coworkers and officers, the audience is basically constantly riveted. If you do choose a roast, I recommend you examine ALL the comedian's material so there are not a surprises.

 You may also consider the business put-on, where the comedian is presented as a new vice president who's signing up with the company after the holidays with some "fresh new ideas" for enhancing organisation. This gives it an added element of surprise, however again, this isn't something that every comic can manage.

[travelcafemt-blog]

Melissa's Review of The Beaches Turks and Caicos

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Melissa's Review of The Beaches Turks and Caicos

Beaches Resort Turks and Caicos

The airport was nice, small and really close to the resort, about 15 minutes’ drive. The shuttle to the Beaches resort was seamless and easy. However, on the return, Beaches scheduled a departure that was, in my opinion, way too early — they say you have to be at the airport 3 hours prior to departure. We had to put our bags out by 8 am and then be on a shuttle at 9:30 am for a 12:30 pm flight. I would suggest travelers check to see if they can schedule a later shuttle if it is to their benefit. In our case, this was way too early to be at the airport — it took us less than 10 minutes to get through security so we had a long wait for our flight. And if your flight is delayed, as was the case for us, you have an even longer wait.

Italian Village

Italian Village, Beaches Turks and Caicos Resort

I was given a room in the Italian Village. This property is centrally located and close to the Pirates Island Water Park and the largest pool on property. It’s also very close to the beach.

The Family suite was spacious with a separate children’s bedroom furnished with two bunk beds, a trundle bed, a sink and mirror, and lots of closet space.

The adult bedroom was large and airy, with a great king bed and sliding door opening onto either a balcony or patio. There was also a sizeable, fully-stocked refrigerator, and you can call the concierge to ask for your special selections, such as diet pop, sauvignon Blanc, milk for children, etc. More closet space in here made it inviting to unpack and stay awhile.

I loved having a room on the ground floor because we could just walk out and be at the pool. It was also nice at night if you were at the bar/pub and just could return through the sliding glass door — super convenient. The patio was a nice, shaded spot to get out of the sun, but still be able to enjoy being outside.

The room was clean and spacious; however, I think a little more attention needs to be given to sliding glass doors, and shutters as far as cleanliness.

Caribbean village

Caribbean Village, Beaches Turks and Caicos Resort

This is the most popular village by far, it is also the closest to the beach. The décor is gorgeous and really goes great with the blue sky and blue waters. However, I felt it was noticeably more crowded. This area does have the perfect setting on the boardwalk for pictures. I also thought the public areas we visited weren’t as clean.

I asked for a window seat indoors at a restaurant and it had handprint smudges all over it. Same with a bar that I went in, I right away noticed the entry door was very greasy like it needed to be cleaned badly.

Seaside Village

Seaside Village Beaches Turks and Caicos Resort

This village is great for larger families that want a villa setting that’s very close to the beach. A beautiful property.

French Village

French Village Beaches Turks and Caicos Resort

This village is furthest away from the beach but close to the main stage for acts/entertainment and also closest to the spa/gym. The pool is large but quieter because there aren’t as many kids. I think all rooms may only have French balconies, at least as far as I could tell.

Key West Village

Key West Village, Beaches Turks and Caicos Resort

Love the pretty décor with the blue waters. One of my favorite outdoor restaurants, the Bayside Restaurant and Bar, is in this area. It has great views of the sunset! Seemed to have a more laid-back vibe going on with hammocks outside of the accommodation section.

Restaurants

There is definitely something for everyone at this resort — 89 choices! — including swim-up pool bars. Most of them serve breakfast and lunch buffet-style, but you can find an option of ordering off the menu. My favorite for breakfast was a small outdoor venue on the sand by the beach called barefoot by the beach. You could order off the menu, but they gave you HOT croissants to start and the waffles were amazing. The chef even came to our table to check on us, so to me, that is always a great sign of a good place to eat.

There are options galore for food choices, and lots of seafood, of course. My favorite, however, was the Mr. Mac Food Truck parked outside of the lazy river pool at the waterpark. The best fried Mac n/cheese balls ever! He served them every day (so when they say you will gain at least 20 pounds, they mean it!).

There is only ONE restaurant that you need reservations for – the Hibachi Grill called Kimonos. This restaurant is a must! I loved all of the variety — if you want fancy, you can find fancy, if you want pub food, you can find it, if you want ice cream you can find it, if you want seafood you could find it. Oh, and of course PIZZA! You can even order it take out and enjoy it back in your suite. Excellent hours so made for a great late-night snack.

We put a lot of thought into our restaurant choices at the very beginning of the trip (the first night) they do give you a nice restaurant guide and map of the property when you check in to the resort.

Activities/Entertainment

Beaches does a great job on this! Every night, at turn-down, you get a pamphlet of the events for the next day. There is always something going on. Lots of games like corn hole tournaments, dance-off, swim-off tournaments, scavenger hunts, tie-dye workshops, water polo, beach volleyball, and so on.

Evening entertainment was great as well – Reggae Night, Casino Night (super fun!), a Jungle Book Show, Fire Show, and more. These appear on the main stage or in various spots around the resort. Karaoke or a singer was usually at the pub later on. They even had a disco place that opened after 9:30 pm (didn’t seem to make it there) but I think you had to be 18 and over.

The entertainment TEAM at this resort did an amazing job every day and night. Very talented and funny. Then, there were the beach activities that were included – snorkeling trips, glass-bottom boat rides, sailing, aqua bikes, paddle boarding, kayaks, catamaran rides. These are super fun, but you need to book at least a day prior for some activities.

Beaches Resort Sea Life Tours

Beach

These beaches definitely do not disappoint — white lapped by turquoise waters — they’re beautiful! Turks and Caicos is home to one of the largest reefs in the world — an amazing place for snorkelers and divers.

For beachgoers, the turquoise water stretches for miles until it breaks from the reef. Beaches resort is on Grace Bay, one of the prettiest beaches in the world. They provide plenty of beach chairs, umbrellas, and canopies on a first-come, first-serve basis.

And a fun thing they had as well, were mesh rings tied down not too far from shore that you could swim to, and enjoy.

Turks and Caicos Island

Turks and Caicos Islands

We were lucky enough to go on a tour of the island — highly recommended! I don’t think anyone would be doing themselves justice if they did not go and explore this most beautiful island! Be sure to check out the visitor’s center, which provides a history of the area.

Islanders drive on the left side of the road, and you can see the watercolor change depending on where you go on the island. There’s a tourist area, with shops and bars (drinks were expensive – they add on a pretty hefty tax)

The south shore had the prettiest beach I have ever seen in my Life! We went to the highest point on the island and could see the color changes in the water. There were also some amazing houses.

Our tour guide — from Paradise Scooters, https://paradisescooters.tc/ — was the best tour guide. We originally signed up for scooter rentals with a guide, but after we had a lesson, it was obvious that we were not going to make it on scooters (they’re a lot harder than they look!). Also, you have to drive on the left side of the road and figure out the turnabouts. Not for the faint at heart!

The scooters would have been fantastic if we had felt comfortable with them, but the company was very accommodating and scheduled a van tour for us. In the long run, this was the way to go. We learned so much from Ayanna — a local with a large family! She waved to so many people on our tour who are related to her. She is also the only female on the island who has the paperwork to ride a scooter. She was awesome and she is voted the best tour guide on the island.

We learned so much on this day – about the politics, the struggles, the locals, and got to try out the best beachfront restaurant called the Conch Shack and even got a demonstration of the conch being removed from its shell. Ayanna also let us have a shell and stopped at a local store for us to get bleach to clean the shell. It was awesome!

This island is a great choice for a wide variety of people. You do have to like the water, heat, and humidity because that is a given. You have to like meeting others from different parts of the world – Jamaica, Haiti, and the locals of course.

If you have a young family, I highly recommend Beaches, however, there is the rumor that they will be closing indefinably in January 2021. No one seemed to want to talk about this or really believe it will happen however and so I didn’t push the subject.

Hopefully, it won’t happen and something will take place as Beaches is a great choice for families that want to experience a tropical island but also have the many things to do and see while at a resort, and have the all-inclusive experience.

During our (long) wait at the airport, I overheard a few families talking about Beaches and both had the best things to say and loved their experience. They both brought large families with them and felt the accommodations couldn’t have been more perfect. It was nice to hear. However, I feel this island has much more to offer as I got the sense there are a lot of condos and villas. Also, the beach on the south shore, Long Bay, seems to be the upcoming spot. The Shore Club would be my choice of accommodation for a luxury resort experience if it were an adults-only vacation.

All in all, I really enjoyed my stay at the Beaches. The staff was nice and the grounds were immaculate. My only complaint would be the cleaning of walls, windows, things that go unnoticed until they are noticed. Hopefully, this resort will remain open otherwise they will be selling a lot of prime beachfront property to someone.