#wedding photographer brooklyn

[howardbeachstudios-us]

https://www.howardbeachstudios.com/2024/04/22/tips-for-a-family-photoshoot-in-new-york-city/

[koffiphotography]

[howardbeachstudios]

Bride & Groom exiting the church after wedding ceremony

[bengarvesfilmandphoto]

Experience Elegance: Top Luxury Wedding Venues in New York City and Beyond

New York City, known for its glamour and sophistication, offers some of the most luxurious wedding venues in the world. For couples seeking a fairytale wedding in opulent settings, NYC and its surrounding areas are filled with options. From grand ballrooms to elegant mansions, these luxury wedding venues promise a memorable celebration. This guide highlights the top venues for those searching for…

[molybdic]

cake

[songforeddiemunson]

Haunting in Blackwood Hollow Part 2

An Eddie Munson x F!Reader Miniseries

Series Summary: It’s the year 1991. Eddie and reader check into a rented house in the Appalachian woods, joined by Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, and Robin. Unfortunately for our gang, things in Blackwood Hollow are never as they appear.

Tropes: established relationship, Jonathan x Nancy, no mention of the events from ST, smut, comedy, fluff, scares, bit of whump (but nothing too crazy)

Series Warnings: Swearing, drinking and weed use, sexual and scary situations, minors please DNI.

Chapter Two: Fool Me Once

Chapter warnings: naughty language, mentions of drinking, weed use. Smut, p in v sex, bit rough (you like it) wrap it before you tap it. Spooky situations

Author's Note: Thanks so much for the smut inspo, @hiscrimsonangel (with this post haha iykyk)

Word Count: ~3K

PART ONE

You stayed up quite late that first night catching up with your old friends, drinking cans of pilsner or oversweet margarita mix from sticky solo cups, laughing your asses off, the ouija board forgotten and back in its box. No longer a big fan of heavy drinking yourself, you cut yourself off after just a few drinks, preferring the more mellow buzz of herb than bubbles. 

Jonathan got quite drunk, which was a riot, and his friendly ribbing of Steve always increased in that state, to the delight of everyone in the room. Despite Steve’s history with Nancy (and subsequently Jonathan), the three of them managed to become great friends. 

Robin bemoaned what she referred to as her perpetual spinsterhood, making you all laugh; “I don’t think you can legally call yourself a spinster at 23,” Steve said. “Just enjoy not being tied down yet,” he finished, causing the rest of the room to tease him for projecting, considering he couldn’t seem to find his one-and-only either (but he pretended he didn’t mind, fooling nobody). 

Steve dated plenty, but Robin struggled with it more than he did for obvious reasons. The two of them were roommates for a time in Indianapolis before going their separate ways. The catalyst; one of Steve’s hookups once implied she would like Robin to join them in the bedroom, which horrified them both so much they ultimately got separate places but still lived on the same block. Robin managed a coffee shop and spoke about her wish to try out for the Indianapolis Philharmonic, which thrilled her but made her so nervous she became nauseated whenever she thought about it for too long. Steve had been employed as a junior high school basketball coach for the past year and decided he would like to go back to school for academic sports; he loved working with the kids.

Nancy filled in the group regarding her grad school studies at Columbia University in New York City for journalism. It was hard work but, true to form, Nancy was excelling, and she had a bright future in print journalism in the city. Jonathan had relocated to be with her and was working as a freelance photographer when he wasn’t working in the kitchen of a popular Brooklyn restaurant. He had ultimately decided not to pursue college and chose to support Nancy instead, thinking that would be the best chance for them as a couple. It caused a lot of friction at first, with Nancy initially pushing Jonathan to go to college, but they were able to work through it and had come out stronger.

After high school Eddie had tried his hand at being a musician, mechanic, bartender and assorted other odd jobs with limited success, and ultimately decided to attend vocational school to become a tattoo artist, which was truly his calling. All the doodles he made for Corroded Coffin and the Hellfire Club paid off, and he was one of the most sought-after ink artists in St. Louis, earning enough for the two of you to live in a nice apartment, despite your modest salary as an administrative assistant for a dentist’s office.  

You were all thriving, and it was wonderful to celebrate each other’s successes. The wedding rehearsal was the following evening, and you looked forward to catching up with the younger kids there– “kids” who were all legal adults by this time; a fact that none of you could believe nor enjoyed thinking about. You were all relieved that you weren’t staying with them, despite the less than ideal location in which you found yourselves; those kids were like a pack of ferrets on cocaine, especially when they were all together. It would be too much, so you stuck with your own age bracket.

Finally, around two in the morning, Robin decided to turn in. Nancy and Jonathan followed about fifteen minutes later, leaving you and Eddie alone with Steve.

You stretched and yawned. “I think it’s time for bed. You coming Eddie?”

Eddie waggled his eyebrows at you. “I don’t know, am I?” he asked, his voice dripping with hyperbolic innuendo.

You laughed and gave him a smack on his tightly bedenimed rear end. “Just get moving, Munson.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted, while Steve rolled his eyes.

It turns out that mercifully, someone did actually change the sheets.

A blessing, honestly, considering you were currently tangled up in them, with the sharp bones of Eddie’s pelvis almost painfully pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs. The bed, old and squeaky with a metal frame that resembled something out of a cold war era prison, was a loud testament to the rhythm of your sex. You couldn’t be bothered to care much, since it felt incredible. The few cans of PBR you had chugged didn’t hurt either.

Eddie had you pinned to the mattress, caged between his arms as he nuzzled and suckled your neck, punctuating soft kisses with nips that would surely leave a mark. You enjoyed it like this sometimes, when he would manhandle you just a bit, claiming you, marking you, and fucking you roughly into the mattress. Sure, there was a time and place for soft lovemaking, but sometimes, you just wanted to be nailed.

“Feel so good baby,” he murmured into your ear, barely more than an exhalation, most of his efforts being concentrated on slamming his cock into your depths. You could barely do more than wiggle and squeal with the way he had you immobilized, which seemed to heighten every sensation. Even his breathy little grunts and gasps were sending you into the stratosphere. You clawed at his back, and the resulting moan in your ear helped bring on climax number three, and you bit into Eddie’s shoulder to stifle your cries.

Eddie’s pace began to falter, and he grasped your waist roughly with his fingers as he shuddered and thrust to his own completion, ending with a final grind of his hips against your sensitive clit, making you yelp. “Ha,” he burst triumphantly; he could be a cocky shit when it came to the pleasures he could draw out of you. He also wasn’t wrong. 

After a tender kiss, Eddie rolled off of you and retrieved his boxers from the floor, sliding them on before fumbling around on the bedside table for his smokes.  He lay back down with his back propped up against the pillow, lighting a cigarette and sighing contentedly. He looked at you and grinned.

“You think everyone heard us?”

You chuckled. “I don’t see how they couldn’t,” you said, as you dressed in a tank top and sweatpants. “This bed is so squeaky, it almost wasn’t worth even trying to be quiet.” 

Eddie laughed. “You sound so cute though when you try,” he said as he flicked his ash into the ashtray on his nightstand. “All squeaky and whiny,” he finished with a wink.

“How dare you,” you joked. “I’m a vision of propriety.”

“Properly fucked, you mean.”

“Eddie!” you scolded, laughing.

“I’ll take it back when it stops being true darlin.’” 

“You’re the worst,” you countered.

“You love me,” he said.

“Dammit, you’re right, I do,” you said. You bent to kiss him, and as you pressed your lips to his, you felt him smile.

“I love you too babe,” he said. 

It was incredible, how he could still make your heart beat faster after all this time.

You headed into the ensuite bathroom and started to go through your usual bedtime routine of brushing your teeth and washing your face. You were suddenly struck by how exhausted you were; between traveling, cleaning, drinking (and smoking) and some vigorous sex, you were thoroughly spent. You glimpsed through the open bathroom door that Eddie had picked up his paperback of Needful Things, and was reading it by the light of the table lamp.

You clicked off the bathroom light and were just about to exit when something caught your eye out of the window. You peered closer to the thick glass to get a better look.  

There was someone standing below on the lawn.

You couldn’t make out any details, but you had the sudden, hair-raising sense that whoever it was was looking right at you.

You jumped backward in alarm.  "Eddie!” you shouted. 

He was out of bed and by your side in an instant. “What?!  A rat?  Why are you standing in the dark, babe?”  He peered around the room intently.

“No, down there!”  You pointed out the window, down onto the grass, but now the figure was gone.  “But…but it was there a second ago…”

Eddie bent to the glass for a closer look, brows furrowed.  "I don’t see anything. What was it?“

"A person! They were definitely standing down there. And babe– I swear it was looking at me.”

A look of intense wariness crossed his features, and he straightened, all business.  "Are you sure?“

"Yes! It was right there!”

“Stay here.”  He was out of the bathroom like a shot. He quickly pulled on his flannel pajama pants and strode from the bedroom.  You waited with your heart in your throat as you heard the front door below you creak open.  You watched out the window as Eddie came into view on the lawn, carrying a fireplace poker in one hand. He clicked on a flashlight and began to sweep the property with it.  It was late, and the shadows from the trees that peppered the property created long ribbons of darkness across the grass that the lights from the house were unable to penetrate.  You realized that it must have been difficult for Eddie to see out there, even armed with a flashlight, and you broke into gooseflesh at the thought.

Screw this, I’m not leaving him alone out there, you thought to yourself, and left the bathroom.  Eddie hadn’t turned on any of the lights in his wake, and in the darkness the house had taken on an even more sinister quality than when you had arrived. You tried to push it out of your mind, dismissing it as the aftershock from your scare. It permeated regardless, with a nearly palpable weight. You hurried downstairs and toward the front door, clicking on lights as you went.  The downstairs area was deserted; everyone else must have also turned in. You quickly scanned the entry area for a weapon, finding only an umbrella. It would have to do.

You stepped outside, eyes sweeping the lawn for Eddie, hearing only crickets as you peered into the trees. In the moments since you had taken your eyes off of him he had disappeared from view. Your heart was pounding and your breath misted around you in the chilly night air.  You crept forward slowly, and you found that your eyes were having difficulty adjusting to the darkness. The shadows were too inconsistent. Anyone could be watching me from those trees and I’d never know it, you thought. Dammit babe, where did you go? 

“Babe?” you called softly.  Silence. “Eddie,” you called again, a little louder this time. Was that a twig snapping?

“What?” said a voice, from directly behind you.

You squeaked with fright and whirled, striking out with the umbrella.  "Ow, what the fuck?!“ Eddie bent forward, clutching his head.

"Oh my fucking god Eddie! You scared me!”

He rubbed his head in irritation where you had whacked him, mussing up his curls. “What are you doing out here? I asked you to stay inside!”

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t just stand there waiting for you. Are you alright?” you stood on your toes to get a better look at your boyfriend’s scalp, but thankfully there was no blood.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, then sighed resignedly.  "I didn’t see anything in front, so I circled round the back to be sure. There’s nothing out here that I can see.  Are you sure you saw someone?“

"Positive.”

“Your eyes couldn’t have been playing tricks on you?”

“Edward,” you said, your voice taking on an acerbic tone. “You know I’m not prone to hysterics.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged, and hugged you to him.  "Maybe it was Steve or something.”

“If it was, where is he now? I didn’t see anyone when I came downstairs.”

Eddie could only shrug at that.

Once back inside, he bolted the front door. "Seems solid,” he said.  He went around the house and checked to be sure all the windows and the back door were locked, and when he was satisfied, you went back to the bedroom together.  As you passed Jonathan and Nancy’s room, Jonathan opened the door and poked his head out, his hair mussed and sticking up in every direction.  

“Someone scream?” he mumbled blearily.

“Eddie saw a spider, go back to bed,” you said. Eddie shot daggers at you with his eyes, but a slight upward curl of his lips belied his irritation. Jonathan only nodded and closed his door.

Back in your own room, you undressed and crawled under the covers, snuggling up to Eddie.

It was quiet for a moment, but the wheels in your mind were still turning. “Maybe it was just a local cutting across the lawn on the way somewhere. They may not be used to the house being occupied,” you offered.

"Maybe,” Eddie replied, but he didn’t sound convinced. “Will the light bother you if I read for a while?” he asked.

“Not at all,” you said.  "Going to sleep with the light on will be okay with me tonight.”

The following morning you shuffled downstairs for breakfast, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as your housemates warmed up the oatmeal or ate the boxed cereals that Nancy helpfully supplied the previous evening.

“Did anyone see or hear anything strange last night?” you asked the group as you poured yourself a cup of hot coffee.

“I think I did,” Steve began. “Some sort of instrument I think. What was that Robin?”

“Bedsprings,” Robin stated simply as she swallowed a bite of peaches ‘n cream flavored oatmeal, looking the worse for wear.

“Uh, besides that,” you said, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. Eddie laughed.

“Don’t hate,” he said.

“I heard Eddie scream at a spider,” Jonathan said, and this time it was your turn to laugh.

“It was NOT me, and it was not a fucking spider!” Eddie yelled, offended by the notion.

“No,” you said, quelling your giggles. “It was actually me. I– I thought I saw someone outside last night, watching me when I was getting ready for bed.”

Steve sat forward, suddenly wide awake. “Wait, really?”

You nodded. “Eddie went out to look for whoever it was but he didn’t find anything.”

“Oh shit,” Robin said, “that’s the last thing I needed to hear. Can we go to a hotel now?”

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” Nancy said. “Maybe it was just a local?”

“The nearest neighbors are a quarter mile away,” you said. 

“I dunno,” Jonathan chimed in, “you hear stories about cannibals living in the woods in Appalachia…”

“That’s a gross stereotype,” Robin scolded.

“Feel free to ignore him,” Nancy said with a sigh.

“My mom was from Appalachia!” Eddie spat.

“Okay, nevermind,” Jonathan said, as he shrank down in his seat and went back to his oatmeal.

“Well if it wasn’t a local, what could it have been?” Steve asked.

“Maybe messing with the ouija board woke something up,” Robin said, and though you normally didn’t place much stock in those things, you felt something akin to an ice cold finger trail down your spine. You shivered.

Steve chuckled. “You can’t be serious.”

“No really!” Robin cried defensively. “In the movie Witchbo–”

“I am not using a shitty 80s horror film as a guidebook!” Steve shouted.

“Whatever,” Robin said. “If you guys get murdered by an evil axe-wielding ouija spirit, you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You laughed it off along with everyone else, yet the idea wouldn’t leave you. It was unsettling, to put it mildly.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie was studying your expression. You did always wear your emotions on your sleeve, and he could sense your unease.

“So,” Eddie said. "What’s everyone wearing to the wedding?"

His umber eyes slid over to yours as the conversation devolved into fashion and hairstyling chatter.

Thank you, you mouthed to your boyfriend, and his Mona Lisa smile wordlessly said, I’ve got you. And he did, that much you would never be unsure about. Regardless of what was happening in your life, Eddie Munson would always have your back, which made you feel very lucky indeed. 

You didn’t know it yet, but it was a sentiment you would come to rely upon much more in the days to come. 

To Be Continued...

More is coming! As always, comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of every fic writer!

MASTERLIST

[buddiebeginz]

Ed Sheeran - Photograph (Piano/Cello Cover) - Brooklyn Duo

Need this song played at Buddie's wedding in s10

[olliethescribe]

Here’s a one-shot for @themagicbrew ‘s RotTMNT AU where Doug, Hypno’s previous magical assistant, is very much alive! He is taken in by the Earth Protection Force (E.P.F). From there he’s trained in their ways and becomes an agent in training: Agent Deacon 💖 Please check it out, you can find it here!

Without further ado, enjoy!

Caínid: Hypno visits Doug’s grave, going down memory lane. Agent Deacon keeps an eye on things.

There was something in the way Hypno carried himself that let Warren know that day had come. The slumped shoulders, the slicked-back hair that seemed to frizz out at the ends, the eye bags. So the worm waved his partner goodbye at the door and wished him well, shoving aside plans for future crimes in favor of a grocery list for dinner. Something nice. Anything to lessen the blow of mourning a friend. 

—

Hypno carefully made his way through midtown and to the subway, dodging and weaving between New Yorkers that barely seemed to mind him. There’d been weirder sights in the city, especially after that near end of the world incident that he totally didn’t have anything to do with. Totally. No, he was just a guy trying his best to make it to Brooklyn along with everyone else on the R train. 

Twenty minutes and several uncomfortable stares later, the magician found himself standing at the entrance to Greenwood Cemetery. The massive iron wrought gates were pulled back, the entrance lined with poppy flowers that he discreetly nicked a handful of on his way in. And up the hill and past the guard, beyond the pond littered with lily pads and mallard ducks, and just below the road of mausoleums, was the marker of a small grave. 

It was well-kept, visited often in Hypno’s free time. The same old photographs of his beloved assistant adorned the headstone, laminated to protect them from rain damage. He had tried to grow a watermelon patch around the area, something to spruce the place up even further and keep it hidden from sight, but had no such luck. So he settled for magical bouquets that never seemed to die and a memorial bench that could hold the weight of an adult hippo (complete with intricate carvings accurate in detail to his old friend on the arm rests). And upon said bench he sat as he looked down upon the headstone of the best magical assistant he ever could’ve wished for. 

“Kia Ora… It’s been- I know what day it is…” The first words out always felt a little awkward, a clunkiness of syllables that tore up his tongue. But no one was around to listen to him stumble; made things easier. 

“Been missing ya something fierce lately. What’s it been?” He raised his gloved hand up and began to count on his fingers. “Three, no, four years since I lost ya. Would’ve saved you if I could, Dougie-wougie. You know I would. And I tried, oh how I tried.” 

The magician reached for his phone, pulling up articles of research that he’d done on long nights, especially after museum heists. 

“Those turtles foiled plenty of my plans, but I still managed to get my hands on an amulet of necromancy.” He smiled slightly before he sighed, expression soured. “Just wish it worked. Stole a bloody dud.” 

Hypno leaned back in his seat, eyes to the clouds and ears to the trees behind him. Only sunshine and silence. There’d be better times to be upset. No, no, it was time for healing, to celebrate the good. 

“But enough about that.” He looked back down at the grave of his friend with a smile. “Got some brilliant news, you’re gonna love this. Wait for it, wait for it… finally got married! Was telling ya about my Warren last time, and well, he said yes!” 

He grinned, thumbing over his wedding ring as the sterling silver band set with a bright red ruby glistened in the daylight. It was absolutely stolen, snatched from some antique store, not like he minded. 

“You would’ve loved it. The wedding, I mean.” Hypno pulled out a handkerchief from a near-endless supply in his breast pocket, dabbing at his eyes. 

“You always were the life of the party, my multi-talented companion. Warren would’ve loved you, too. Said he wanted to be here today but there was a…” The magician trailed off, trying to remember what his husband said. “Oh, yes, right. He had a scheduling conflict. Every time those pop up I come home to a nice dinner so…” 

The sentence lingered in the air, unfinished as the monologue hung. Hypno shifted in his seat, not quite uncomfortable as much as he needed time to think. Oh, what to say… 

“I still see you in everything. Drives me batty, e’ry now n’ then.” Another monumental sigh escaped his lips as the bench groaned underneath him. 

“Sometimes I swear I can see ya just in the corners of my vision, off in the shadows of buildings or hiding behind street lamps. Warren must think I’m cracking up with all the times I stop and turn ‘round. He doesn’t say it but he thinks it, I know he does.”

Hypno’s ears flicked up as a rustle came from the tree-line behind him, turning in his seat to catch a glimpse of whatever could be out there. He scanned the area as he heard another crunch of leaves, not quite fussed enough to pull out his razor rings but keeping them at the ready just in case. A figure moved rapidly out of the shadows.

It was a mourning dove. 

They were common in the area, especially abundant in late spring to early fall. The magician smiled slightly at his newfound feathered companion and tossed some bird seed its way. 

“Maybe I’m just paranoid.” He turned back to Doug’s grave and pat the stone, slightly cold despite its placement in the sun. “Maybe I miss you too much for my own good.” 

There was another shuffle among the trees that he opted to ignore, not wiling to jump at every bird or creature that bothered crossing his path. It seemed to be closer before stopping suddenly. He shook it off. 

“I still remember the day I got ya. Some bloke had set up shop behind my show in South Africa during my first world tour. So he beckons me over, had a machete strapped to his side, and I was properly convinced that it’d spell me doom. Was gonna jet before I carked it, but then I saw you.” 

A sad smile took residence on Hypno’s face, his eyes pointing ahead yet his gaze was far far away. 

“You were so… small. Pretty sure they poached ya mum and took you when you were a wee thing out of pity.” Hypno began to fidget with his jacket buttons absentmindedly. “Said I could have ya for fifty bucks. And I said it was the deal of a lifetime.” 

“I had just been in the market for a magical assistant, really. Rabbits and doves are classics, and I had plenty, but everybody needs a show stopper! And then you came into my life. Oh, Dougie, you lit up any room you entered.” 

His mind wandered off to a better time, relaying events aloud as they passed through his thoughts. How Doug used to nibble on his suit in the early days, and then the days where the little hippo wouldn’t stop biting things, and Doug’s first on-stage performance when the tour made it to London. Then there was-

“I wanted to skip Australia. Aussies are terrifying, there’s spiders everywhere, and I’ve never been one for deserts. But you never would’ve seen it if we hadn’t gone.” 

“There was a heatwave. Because of course God’s sandbox of forgotten nightmare creatures needed yet another thing to make it even more unpleasant.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, a cutting edge to his words as they lacerated his tongue. 

“First performance of the night was going well enough. You did an excellent job, by the way, my little biscuit.” Hypno pulled a poppy from his pocket and placed it beside Doug’s final resting spot; flowers for his star performer. “But things broke down as the show wore on. One moment it’s all fine and then…”

“You fainted. At least we all thought it was just that ‘til some lass checked your pulse. There… there weren’t any vets that could take you in Queensland. The closest was in New Zealand… Gisborne… home…” Hypno drummed his fingers on his lap, stuck in the moment. 

“Doubt I’ll ever forget the wait. Fifteen hours you were in there, fighting for your life. Had a whole team on standby for ya. Got asked plen’y of questions. Really couldn’t answer ‘em all too well. Was wrecked with worry about ya. They said you had a valve replaced, that you needed medicine the insurance miraculously covered. Some real magic right here, I’ll tell ya what.” 

He shook off the memory of Doug’s obscenely high medical bills that the vet had since forgiven. Even if he had to pay that amount in full it would’ve been worth it. Anything for his little pumpkin.

“Still remember the evening I brought you back from the emergency vet. Mum set up a pool in the backyard for you to swim in. Told her you were gonna be resting for a while and couldn’t get your stitches wet. She still insisted I sit with ya out back. And I did.”

Hypno smiled, a pained little thing, not quite going up all the way in the corners. 

“You woke up around midnight. The sky was clear, lovely night really. A proper tapestry of diamonds up there.” The magician thought back on the moment, Doug’s head in his lap as he stroked the young hippo’s back. It felt as awe inspiring as it did peaceful. To observe the universe with such gingerness. 

“And as gorgeous as the sky was, the stars were twice as beautiful reflected in your eyes.” 

He wiped tears off his cheeks as his ears flicked up. There’d been more rustling behind him followed by the sound of something large sliding against tree bark. 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re haunting me.” A dry laugh freed itself from his parted lips. “The only ghost I’d welcome, really.”

The tree-line had gone back to its usual quiet self, aside from the birds that lived atop the oaks and weeping willows. Hypno spent a moment waiting to hear any other shift of movement. Nothing. 

“Wouldn’t be the only way you haunt me.”

Hypno paused a moment before continuing, a part of him still hoping for more ‘signs’. Anything to prove that he weren’t alone. Still nothing.

“There are days where I hated lookin’ in the mirror. Couldn’t really come to terms with,” he said, gesturing to his face, “this whole situation. But it’s not much of a curse now, innit? ‘Cause, in a way, it’s almost like I’ve still got you. An’ life’s better when I’m carrying you with me everywhere.” 

Tears fell but Hypno didn’t move his hand to wipe them away, letting them fall to salt the earth below. He gave the grave before him a once over, the magical bouquet of flowers placed upon it wilting ever so slightly. He sighed. 

“I hope you can hear me, Douglas. Wherever you happen to be. And I hope, god I hope, it’s better than here. Because you deserve it. You’ve always deserved better.” 

Hypno brushed himself off as he got up from the bench, trying his hardest to ignore the ache in his chest that always came with these visits. There’d be comfort waiting for him at home, in the warm spring breeze, in the fact that life goes on. 

And he took solace in it all as he walked off toward the subway, sliding by crowds of people that barely took notice of him, wiping his eyes on his handkerchief as he took a seat on the train back home. He could cry again next time. It was only a week away.  ***

Behind a mighty oak tree in Greenwood Cemetery sat a stunned hippo man, trying and failing to stop his emotions from getting the better of him. It was going less than well. 

“Agent Deacon? Come in, Agent Deacon.” 

Agent Doug Deacon scrambled for his communicator, mildly composing himself in time to answer his superior. 

“Coming in, Agent Bishop.” His voice cracked slightly, he hoped Bishop wouldn’t pick up on that. 

“You said you had eyes on the target. Where is he?” 

Oh. Oh no. 

Deacon peeked from his spot, his target long gone. The agony of the past being relayed in fine detail was tied with the pain of disappointing Bishop. He wasn’t gonna be allowed out of the Hidden City for a while for cocking this up… 

“He has exited the cemetery, sir, but I am following him.” 

“Good.” 

And the communicator went silent. 

Deacon shook his head and cursed under his breath as he ran, sticking from shadow to shadow. He wouldn’t mess this up. Couldn’t mess up. No, he’d prove himself worthy of his title of ‘agent’. He’d make Bishop proud. 

Who else was there to be proud of him anymore anyway? 

[sreegs]

this is my favorite "i met a celebrity in new york" story:

way back in 2014 i was a groomsman in my friend's wedding in brooklyn. he was staying in a hotel suite, and i came up there the morning of the wedding to prep with the rest of the wedding party

while we were getting ready, he remarked that the people next door to his suite were up late having incredibly loud sex. he and his friends were partying so it didn't really bother them, they just thought it was funny.

the photographer was there too to take a few pics. he stepped out to grab new equipment, and when he came back he goes "dude, I think I saw DMX in the hallway". he then went back out.

the groom was still getting ready, so he threw a towel on and ran out of the bathroom because he didn't want to miss him, but before he could reach the door, fucking DMX himself walked in with the photographer. he was the one in the suite next door.

he gave the groom well wishes and advice about about how it's a "big commitment to only one pussy". i was so shocked i didnt even get a pic in the room, but i still have this one on my phone when we saw them again downstairs:

rest in peace DMX i cant believe this is how i met you

[fanfic-fairyy]

Asheiji fanfic recs pt. 4

Pt. 1 , 2 and 3

Brooklyn Baby by suffragettecity(41k)

Front-man Ash Lynx goes from coast to coast with his bohemian band. Photographer Eiji Okumura goes from journalist to groupie with his newfound freedom.

Your Best American Boy by suffragettecity(57k)

Cherry popsicles, bummed cigarettes, wrinkled photographs and shirtless nights. The summer a Japanese tourist moves in across the street, and an American boy falls in love through the fire-escapes.

Dusk till Dawn by equinoctial(97k)

“Alright. But you stay safe okay? I mean-” Eiji immediately regretted his reflexive reply to a goodbye. This wasn’t just your ordinary stranger, this was probably a powerful wizard for crying out loud.

But instead of an awkward laugh, the wizard settled with a gentle smile, the kind that reached his eyes and made the mystifying jade more brilliant than ever.

“Thanks. You stay safe too,” and with that, the wizard hopped off the balcony and vanished into the crowd below.

---

In which Eiji gets cursed into a ghost, the kingdom wages war on its neighbours, and the devil wizard Ash Lynx roams the wastelands while striking fear into the strongest of hearts.

But of course, fate would see the seemingly heartless wizard fall in love with a heart that had so much to give.

satin birds by kybelles(48k)

PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT

Mr. James R. Callenreese and Ms. Hideko Aoki are very delighted to announce the engagement between Mr. Callenreese's son and sole heir to Callenreese Corporotions Mr. Aslan J. Callenreese and Ms. Aoki's beloved nephew Mr. Eiji Okumura. The happy couple haven't decided on a wedding date yet.

(Except, Ash and Eiji are not happy at all because they don't want this marriage.)

of sugar cookies and chocolate puddings by kybelles(3k)

Eiji first meets Ash on a gloomy sunday afternoon.

After a little silence, the door is slowly opened by someone Eiji doesn’t notice at first. When he lowers his eyes a little, however, his gaze meets with a pair of bright green eyes. He takes a little step back, taking the appearance of the blonde kid who’s standing in front him. The suspicious scowl on his face softens a little when his eyes catch the plate in Eiji’s hands but he keeps holding his guard.

“Um…” Eiji begins hesitantly.

“What do you want?” the boy asks with a challenging face.

“M-my mom sent this.” he stammers finally, pushing the plate forward a little clumsily.

be my mirror, my sword and shield by kybelles(15k)

Ash Lynx finds the love of his life on a quiet night after he trips on sidewalk and harshly bumps his face against it when he exits from library.

Ash lets out a long-suffering sigh and prepares to take out his phone when he hears a sharp inhale and feels someone approaching him in a hurry. He defensively turns towards the noise but freezes like a deer caught in the headlights.

There’s guy in front of him who’s looking at Ash with concern and the sight of him literally makes Ash’s heart flutter like it’s never done before. He has the softest looking black hair Ash’s ever seen and for a crazy moment, Ash feels an irrepressible urge to run his hand through it. The guy’s already big dark eyes grow impossibly bigger when they land on Ash’s bruised cheek.

“Oh my god!” he shrieks in an adorable manner. “Are you okay?”

“You must be an angel.” Ash blurts before he can stop himself.

Sacrifice by signpainter1(33k)

Ash, the Sun God asks for only one thing; a daily sacrifice of wheat to help him maintained the fields. When war threatens the country, they turn from a wheat sacrifice to a human one. People are brought to the capital including the man Ash loves the most, Eiji Okumura. Ash has to find a way to prevent Eiji from dying which is hard when humans only hear only what they want to hear.

The One With the Vampires by TurnUps(99k)

Eiji Okumura has travelled to New York state because a Count Golzine is paying him an awful lot of money to take some pictures of his house. It doesn't take long for him to find out that he's the intended prey for creatures of the night.

But he instead to save the mysterious Ash, Golzine's supposed son, as well as himself.

*

Ash put his hand over the boy's mouth. Kept him pushed against the wall.

"Listen to me." His voice came out as a growl - a monster's voice. "If you go up to the Golzine Estate, then you won't come back down. With or without the money, you won't see a cent of it. That man - that - thing - he lives to trap pretty boys like you into his web, and he'll gobble you up before you realise you're stuck. Go. Home."

The boy didn't struggle. A rabbit who knew it had been caught in a snare. Dark eyes stared at him - wide. Maybe that meant he was finally seeing sense.

His lips were parted, under Ash's palm. He became away of that. Warm skin and warmer breath. A familiar feeling reared its head in his stomach. A hunger.

No. He could not save this boy from Golzine's clutches just so that he would fall prey to his own.

Uncharted Waters by midnitewrites(148k)

A routine day on the water is turned on its head when fisherman Eiji Okumura spots a strange creature in his fishing net. His excitement quickly morphs into disbelief when he realizes that what he caught is no fish: it’s a mermaid, beautiful and deadly—and, as he soon learns, gravely injured.

Desperate to save them, Eiji spirits the mermaid away to his home and nurses them back to health in his bathtub. As they recover, he learns more about them and their situation: their name is Ash; they can’t hope to survive without a fin to replace the one they lost; and in a year’s time, their pod will once again return to the bay where Eiji first found them.

Together, Eiji and his friends devise a plan to rehabilitate Ash and reunite them with their pod. Yet as Ash gains strength, so, too, do the bonds they forge, and the prospect of saying goodbye becomes far more difficult than any of them bargained for.

Bed of Roses by TurnUps(103k)

Eiji had been watching the boy for the last three dances.

Well, he had been watching, but not watching. Every time the boy’s gaze came anywhere near him, he stared back down at the table, hoping that he hadn’t been caught.

It was the boy’s hair that had caught his eye at first. Yellow – somewhere between yellow and white. He’d never seen hair that colour before. Didn’t know it was possible for real people to have hair that colour. It was as though there was a miniature sun around his head. As if he was a candle, with its own flame.

The flame flickered in his eyes too. Green eyes – he’d rarely seen them, either – and none quite as vibrant a green as his. They sparkled like emeralds, above flashing white teeth. His waistcoat had a hint of green to it, that brought them out all the more.

*

Western/Cowboy/Young Guns AU! Eiji has travelled to America with Ibe because of fishy business with the mayor of a small town. Ash runs a group called the Regulators after the same thing.

And in That Light, I Saw You by ohrange(125k)

After a traumatic experience renders Eiji unable to attend school, Ibe suggests taking some time off to work as his photography assistant at an agency in New York. Eiji takes to the idea well enough, but doesn’t expect to get involved into investigating a sex-trafficking ring… something that Ash, a model at the agency, has been secretly keeping evidence of for years.

[In which Ash is a model with a dark past no one dares to question, and Eiji is a design student who escapes from Japan only to be met with the same thing he wants to forget.]

Rewrite the Stars by Hamliet(58k)

When exchange student Eiji Okumura arrives at his American high school for a year abroad, his worries about fitting in and earning As are quickly swept aside when he meets Ash Lynx, a genius rumored to have spent time in juvie last year. Between Ash, his friends Shorter and Sing, and the mysterious younger brother of the school's principal, Eiji finds himself drawn into a power struggle that he realizes is more familiar than he thought. High School AU... (like, where they're actually in school + there's a chance of healing).

Ain't it like thunder under earth by Snow_Falls(11k)

'Alex clarified, when again it seemed like Ash wouldn’t reply. “Whoever goes with the boss has to spend some time fooling around with him.”

“Who is going with Ash?” Eiji had to ask.

There was a significant pause. The boys looked at Eiji and away.'

Fake dating, then real dating, with the mildest of heists thrown in for flavour.

[Read the tags before reading the fic<3]

[koffiphotography]

“archway”

[thedogsled]

Previous Occupant

Card Number: B089 Square Filled: U2 Alpine Word count: 564 Rating: G Main pairing: None Major tags: non-main character death (off screen), tfatws compliant, Indiana Summary: Bucky can’t find a place to settle down. 

He has to leave Brooklyn eventually. It’s too exhausting. Every street corner is a memory twisted through a muddied lens, and every one of them features Steve. Once he’s off Raynor’s books, he’s free. Well, free in so far as he still has to check in with Ross, whom he despises, but at least there’s no more “court appointed therapy”. Needless to say he still needs therapy, but that’s a whole other can of worms. Wasn’t like there were a lot of folks out there who understood a fraction of what he’d been through, and certainly not enough to be actively trying to help him to process it. He tries Vermont first, because it’s supposed to be green and beautiful, and Bucky thinks maybe what he needs is a complete 180 from the world he’s used to. He trades the concrete jungle for…slush. A lot of it. It’s pretty, but it’s wet. Maybe that’s just the season, but Bucky wants nothing to do with it. His next attempt is California, by contrast, but he lasts only two weeks. It’s depressing. Warmer, obviously, and he’s sure lovely in summer, but just like in New York, everyone seems to be in too much of a hurry pursuing what they wanted in life to have much care for anyone else.

He has family in Indiana. It’s what draws him back in the worst possible way, because Sam calls him with the bad news. His sister Rebecca has passed away. His sister, whose existence he’s been avoiding ever since he was freed from HYDRA; who had a life, kids, grew old - older than him - and he hadn’t ever gone back to Indiana to see her. How could he? They’d all thought he was dead, and then he’d come back with all this baggage. A cold blooded killer. He couldn’t do that to her, bring that on her community.

The funeral is beautiful. Bucky watches it through a scope, then visits her grave alone, sitting with her as he should have done while she was alive. It’s too late now. Everything always feels like he does it too damn late.

He can’t bring himself to leave. She’d made her home here, so why couldn’t he? There’s a Barnes stocking shelves at his local supermarket–couldn’t be much older than Bucky had been when he’d been conscripted; he has her eyes. There’s a Barnes at the library too, somewhere in her late fourties; she doesn’t look related, but the man in her wedding photograph is the spitting image of Bucky’s dad.

He feels at home here. He feels known here, even though he doesn’t tell anyone his name. And the little house that he buys comes with free company, the first since Wakanda, where he’d happily taken care of a small herd of goats to feel as though he was contributing to his own upkeep.

The little white cat is scrawny and underfed, and the empty bowl in the window sits next to an empty bag of kibble with a hole ripped into the bottom of it. There’s no tag, no name; the dear, sweet thing has been left here by the previous owner, abandoned. Left behind. Bucky knows how that feels.

The brand of cat food is “Alpine”, so that’s the name Bucky gives his new companion, and he promises - he swears - that he won’t ever leave the cat behind.

[tveitertotwrites]

The Evans-Ramsey Children

Since I recently introduced Brooklyn and Charlie's kids, I figured I would reintroduce Claire and Adelaide's kids.

Oliver Jonah Ramsey:

Born on August 13th 2022

Found out about a year after their wedding

They decided on the name Oliver as it was the name of one of Claire and Adelaide’s childhood best friends who they haven’t seen in years. Ethan was also hesitant on having their son with the same middle name as him but Claire insisted.

They decided to only use Ethan’s last name as Claire only uses hers for work (which may change soon for reasons that will be revealed later).

When he grows up, Oliver attends NYU (Claire’s Alma Mater) and studies photography. He then becomes a professional wedding photographer and eventually photographs his parents' vow renewal.

He resides in Los Angeles

He ends up marrying his childhood best friend, Claire (Adelaide and Tobias’ daughter), and they go on to have two daughters.

Sienna Mae Ramsey:

Born on February 19, 2024

They chose to name her from the most important people in her life (besides Claire) which is why they used Sienna for her first name and Mae for her middle (Adelaide’s middle name is Mae). Both Sienna and Adelaide cried over it

When she grows up, Sienna goes to UCLA to study film and direct movies. 

She mainly resides between NYC and London but she does visit her parents as often as possible.

She marries her college girlfriend Maya, they then have two boys (through ivf)

Addison Grace Ramsey:

Born on December 31, 2026

I HC that one of Ethan’s friends from HS was a girl named Addison, who ended up moving away without Ethan being able to contact her. He then found her years later when she was admitted to EB when Ethan was a second year resident. She ended up passing away not long after and he told Claire about it, who recommended they name their daughter after her.

When she grows up, Addison goes to Julliard and becomes a big actress. During her early years of acting she’s mentored by Brooklyn Moore. 

She mostly lives in Los Angeles and Boston but she also visits Italy and France a lot.

She marries her high school sweetheart, Aspen, and they have one boy.

Naveen Alan Ramsey:

Born on October 21, 2030

Since they knew that he was going to be their last one (Claire made Ethan get a vasectomy), they decided to name him after Naveen and Ethan’s father, as they are the most important people in their family’s lives.

When he grows up, Naveen goes to Johns Hopkins (Ethan’s Alma Mater) to study medicine and become a doctor.

He does his residency at Edenbrook before transferring to Mass Kenmore

While he mainly resides in Boston, he also has places in Amsterdam and Greece.

He marries one of his fellow doctors from residency, Grace and they have two girls and a boy.

These are Claire and Ethan's Children

[wizzard890]

DUDE WHO WAS YOUR PHOTOGRAPHER OMG THEYRE SO GOOD

It was the brilliant Billy Thomas, a Brooklyn-based photographer, videographer, and all around lovely man. He was one of the best things about our wedding, I've never met such an affirming and creative guy. Here are some shots he got of the venue, our rings, and even the perfume Aria and I wore day-of.

[streetglider]

(Coney Island Beach People. Untitled [Two Women with Wheelchair] by Lapow, Harry: (1956) | James Cummins Bookseller, ABAAから)

Black and white gelatin silver print. 8" x 12.5" on mount. Harry Lapow (1909-1982) was a New York graphic designer turned photographer who studied with Lisette Model and Sid Grossman. He is best known for the images collected in his iconic book Coney Island Beach People (New York: Dover, 1978), a selection of 138 photos taken at the South Brooklyn beach from 1952 to 1977. His photo of an Italian wedding on the beach was included in Edward Steichen's important Family of Man exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art. Artist's stamp on verso; near fine Black and white gelatin silver print. 8" x 12.5" on mount.  Seller Inventory # 353786