#Adult classes in Chicago

[morgenlich]

god speaking of life not lifeing like it was supposed to, i’d told myself if i didn’t get into grad school i’d do german classes with the goethe institut since they have a physical location in chicago, finally get my fucking c1 certification etc etc

only to learn all their north america locations no longer do in person classes!

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Choose One (Chapter 1) by Uzumaki Rebellion

Characters: Elijah "Smoke" Moore and Elias "Stack" Moore (characters in the Michael B. Jordan movie "Sinners"). Lena Blackwell (OC).

Warning(s): Adult language, Angst, Pre-Sinners movie.

Summary: Lena Blackwell works in an illegal after-hours Black & Tan club in Bronzeville where she seduces twin brothers Smoke and Stack. Each brother has qualities she likes and she embarks on an illicit affair with both. All is well until one of the twins starts catching feelings.

Word Count: 3.8K

Masterlist HERE.

"See-line woman (see-line)

Dressed in red (see-line)

Make a man (see-line)

Lose his head (see-line)"

Nina Simone – "See-Line Woman"

She fucked them both.

Smoke and Stack.

Seducing the twin brothers was easy, but confusing at the start.

She met Stack first. The gold in his teeth gleamed in the light of the Sunset Café, one of the most popular Black and Tan clubs in the Bronzeville section of Chicago. Lena Blackwell worked behind the bar instead of the floor, where jam packed circular tables faced an at capacity dance floor moving to the sounds of the latest jazz band snazzed up in tuxedos.

Although the Sunset Café advertised itself as a supper club and a popular music venue, people along the stroll knew it was a higher class speakeasy. Unlike other clandestine establishments with secret code words whispered to get in and concealed entrances to deceive law enforcement and politicians, the Sunset owners paid off low-salaried policeman to look away. Their mob ties kept money in the right pockets to warn of raids and shakedowns from other gangsters. People wanted liquor and any other spirits they could get their hands on in a city that was supposed to be as dry as the Sahara.

Stack slithered over to the far end of the long polished mahogany table with a toothpick wedged between his gums. For over twenty minutes, he rapped to her while she tried to keep the prohibited drinks flowing.

"You should come work for me," he said, sizing her up with blatant lust in his bold brown eyes.

"I'm not a whore for you to put on the stroll, mister. Order another drink or leave me be."

He gave her a crooked grin with his sexy lips, then admired her perfectly coiffed hairdo styled with pin curls and slathered in Sweet Honey Brown pomade. Lena cut him to the quick.

"I know a pimp when I see one," she snapped, mixing drinks for one of the female servers.

"I ain't mean it like that baby. This is a legit business proposition. I'ma go back home and open a juke. I need a talented drink mixer such as yoself."

His delta accent was raspy and thick like overcooked grits. He was one of them sorry souls who migrated from the dirty south. She wondered if his feelings got hurt when he discovered the north was no different than the low down redneck peckerwoods he ran away from.

"Mmm hmm," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I'm serious. Think about it. Lemme have some cold water," he said.

Lena reached down into a false shelf and poured Stack some high grade illegal moonshine. She slid the glass to him and he guzzled it down.

"Stack!"

Lena tilted her head to see the caller.

Well, damn.

The head of the Bronzeville syndicate gestured toward Stack. Ernie Miller, the Black godfather of the south side, was wide in the gut and built low to the ground like a bulldog. A dangerous cat, who carried a switchblade known to cut throats on a whim.

Stack slid a fat wad of cash out of his pocket and laid a crisp twenty on the counter.

"Keep the change for your tip," he said, winking at her.

The change from his tab would cover her rent for two months.

He stuffed the rest of his money in his pocket where a shiny set of brass knuckles dangled, and left the bar to join Ernie. For the first time, Lena took notice of Stack's finely tailored brown suit and the sharp creases in his pants. He had syndicate connections. A gangster. And a good tipper. She watched him enter a secret door in the back and never saw him again that night.

Two days later, as she started work at the bar, she spotted Stack nursing a drink at the far end, listening to an older barfly chat away to him. He drained the last of what was in his glass and Lena offered him some cold water.

Stack looked at her in confusion and shook his head in the negative.

She worked her shift, expecting Stack to hit on her at the bar again, like most men did.

He didn't.

"Cat got your tongue tonight, mister?" she teased, wiping down a spill near his arm from another patron.

He stared at her and then turned away to watch chorus girls tear up the Black Bottom dance in short dresses. Maybe she'd been too curt for him last time, and he took the hint. Ironically, that made her take a sudden interest.

He was tall, fine-looking, and a sharp dresser. She wondered if he smelled as good as he looked. Her eyes stayed on him until he wandered off to take an empty seat next to Ernie in a far left corner with some other broad-shouldered men.

"What was he drinking?" she asked another bartender.

Max, a reed-thin high yella man with a nasally voice, glanced at her.

"A South Side and the last glass was some Smoke."

"Eww, he likes that Smoke shit? That could kill him," she said, crinkling her nose.

"Them ex soldiers like that cloudy fuel alcohol."

"How you know he's an ex soldier?"

Max held out his hand and wiggled it.

"His hands. They shake a little bit. Lotta them war boys came back messed up."

Lena couldn't imagine the jovial man she met the other night acting shell-shocked. She reached under the bar and grabbed some gin. Adding some lime, sugar, and a bit of mint, she made a fresh glass of South Side.

"I'll be right back," she said.

Her heels click-clacked on the floor and she passed several raucous tables enjoying the floor show. Ernie had stepped away to talk to some people two tables over. She placed the South Side in front of the ex soldier.

"Thought you might enjoy this better than that rot gut you were drinking earlier," she said.

He glanced down at the drink and a slow smile raised the corners of his lips. No gold on his teeth. She studied his features, his hair, and the large build of his body. This had to be the same man.

"What they call you around here?" she asked.

"Smoke."

"Not Stack?"

He showed more teeth and some dimples.

"No. Just Smoke."

He had a twinkle in his eye and he chuckled softly.

"Where you from?" she asked.

"Mississippi."

"You really opening a juke down there?"

He squinted at her, but before he could answer, Ernie returned.

"Let's go," Ernie said, grabbing his coat.

The soldier stood and brushed against her. She looked up into his eyes and shivered. He reached down for the drink she prepared for him and sipped it down in front of her.

"Thank you," he said, handing the glass back to her.

She clasped it with both hands, feeling woozy by the scent of his cologne. He grabbed his suit coat, and she glimpsed the gun in a holster strapped to him.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice soft like cotton.

Lena stepped aside and touched her forehead. The man had her breaking out in a sweat.

Two more men caught up to them near the bar and that's when she gasped, seeing double. The man who called himself Smoke greeted his twin brother Stack. Lena returned to her post and Stack peeled back his lips, showing her gold in his mouth. She ended up grinning, and he leaned an elbow on the bar.

"You look even more beautiful when you smile," Stack said.

Staring at them both, she could tell they were physically identical, but the personalities, their auras…so opposite.

One thing was for sure, seeing them together…she was smitten.

And she wanted them both.

Stack usually showed up at the Sunset around nine.

Lena figured out his routine quickly because out of the two twins, Stack liked to party and be around the nightlife the most. He stood out in a crowd of men and the ladies loved him.

The Sunset Café started advertising to lure more women into the place for capitalistic gain. Originally the owners created it as a gentlemen's club, but in order to stay lucrative during prohibition, they had to open up the market to new customers, and women loved to drink.

To hide the odorous stench of bootleg hard liquor that could turn female customers away, new cocktails were created adding syrups and various fruit juices to sweeten the bitter taste. The club manager ordered all bartenders to add more cherries, orange slices, and canned chucks of pineapples in the drinks to appeal to the good-time girls who sought excitement. Especially the white ones.

White women loved the Sunset.

White men loved it too, and the forbidden allure of rubbing shoulders with negroes brought out their lascivious side. Everyone in Chicago knew that colored folks couldn't have their own entertainment spaces without white folks sniffing for some action in the mix. As much as they pretended to hate negro people, they sure couldn't stay away from them. Colored patrons and performers tickled their libidinous fantasies. The best music, the best food, and the best dancing happened on the south side where negroes were crowded together. They didn't call it Bronzeville for nothing.

Lena eyed the entrance. Stack was due to swagger through any minute.

The supper hour kept the bar less hectic as folks ate garnished devilled eggs, green beans, steaks, fried catfish, buttermilk-dipped fried chicken, with the added sides of creamy macaroni and cheese with generous slices of honey cornbread.

Max flipped through his tattered, olive-colored copy of the H.P. Dreambook. A man wearing a turban in front of a crystal ball illustrated the cover. He pestered busboys, servers, and Lena about their dreams so he could search them up in his book and find the corresponding numerical interpretation to play the numbers. Another bartender named Frank polished glasses and worked the other end of the counter.

"C'mon Lena, your turn, what you dream last night?" Max asked.

"I don't really have dreams."

"Everybody dreams. Bernice, what about you?"

Bernice scratched an itch on her prominent nose and thought about her answer while she waited for Lena to pour whiskey into three tumbler glasses.

"The night before, I dreamed about going to Paris and seeing Josephine Baker," Bernice said.

She spun around and shook her hips.

"Y'all think she really dances over there naked wearing bananas?" Bernice asked.

"Lemme see, travel… bananas…dancing…" Max murmured.

He circled numbers in his book with a stubby pencil. Lena placed the drinks on Bernice's tray and tapped her foot waiting for Max. Two other female servers went to Frank to fill their orders.

"Okay…two…twenty-nine…seventeen," Max said.

He reached into his tip pocket and pulled out a coin, handing it to Bernice.

"Give that to Melvin and tell him to combinate my numbers," he said.

"You give your own money to the numbers man," Bernice said.

She flounced away from the bar, and Max sucked his teeth.

Stack strolled in and took off his hat and coat, leaving it with the coat check girl. He surveyed the room and two gleeful white women sauntered over to him.

"Them ofays sure do love them some Big Stack," Max said.

Bernice returned with another drink order. She glanced at Stack, too.

"Can you blame them? Look at him…just a big stiff drink I'd love to pour down my throat."

"Man can't even get into the club without women flocking to him," Max said.

"Those two wait to see him every week. They reserve the table closest to the door to catch him," Bernice added. "I ain't never seen him with anything darker than a paper bag, though."

"That's cuz you and those ladies are at the top of the hierarchy."

"What are you bumping your gums about now, Max?" Bernice sighed.

"Niggas out here go for color first, hair texture second, and shape last. Listen to me…don't roll your eyes…white girls and you lightskins…that would be you Bernice with your mixed ass…are at the top. If a woman ain't that, they'll take a brownskin, like Lena, if they have good hair. But if they can't have number one or two, a woman has to at least have a good shape. See, Bernice here, she only got one and two—"

"I got a cute shape, too! I'm all three!" Bernice protested.

"Not with those knock knees and small tits…anyway, like I was saying…you gotta have what's on that list or you won't get no attention in this club. That's why Lena is behind the bar and not on the floor with you all night getting the fat tips. Facts is facts, and that man over there likes to have all three."

They watched Stack as he charmed the women blocking him from the rest of the club.

"Hmmph. Men are stupid," Bernice huffed. "Miss Two-out-of-three, can I get three shots of rum?"

"Coming right up, Miss Three-out-of-three," Lena said.

Bernice cackled, then took the drinks away.

"I never noticed she had knock knees," Lena whispered to Max.

Stack sauntered over with the women and their loud chatter livened up the counter.

"Hey Max," Stack said.

"Good to see you this evening, Mr. Moore," Max said, taking on his polished bartender voice.

He dropped his dream book under the counter.

"What can I fix for you tonight, sir?"

Max waited for the order. Lena headed over to another patron who wanted hooch.

"Ladies, what would you like to drink?" Stack asked.

The first woman, a shapely red head with narrow features asked for a Sidecar, and the second woman, a wide-eyed brunette, requested a Malört.

"You like that bitter stuff?" Stack asked.

Lena clocked the brunette's curling edges from perspiration, and the slight roundness of her nose. To a regular white person, she could pass as Italian or even a Jewish Russian. However, the hair, the extra curve in her ass, and the nervous fluttery eyes told the truth to Lena. The woman glanced at her; a mutual understanding passed between them that she would be treated as a white woman. Who was she to judge what people had to do to survive a depression?

If Stack knew, he didn't let on. Max gave them their drinks and Stack turned his steady focus on Lena.

"You look real nice tonight, Lena."

"Thank you, Mr. Moore," she said.

"When you wear all those curls, it makes your pretty eyes look mysterious—"

"Stack," the redhead interjected.

Her tone came out sharply, saying his name.

"I'm talking, baby, give me a minute," he said.

The bass in his voice caused her lips to bunch up. Her brunette friend sipped the Malört and looked away.

"I didn't come down here to watch you talk to a bartender," the redhead whined.

"Bitch, I don't care what you came here to do."

Max stepped in to de-escalate.

"Mr. Moore, what would you like to have?"

Lena left them to serve other people, and Stack dismissed the two women. He conferred with Max and the floor show began, capturing his attention. Stack loved watching the dancers. He probably ran through most of them based on his reputation. Irritation stretched across his face and Lena served him the moonshine he loved.

"Those girls don't know how to act when you talk to other women," she said.

"I'm tired of them dingy broads anyway. They both have dry coochie and bad attitudes. White bitches love slumming with dark dick, but act all bent outta shape if a colored woman gets a tiny bit of attention."

"You do know one of them is colored, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

He grinned and looked deep into Lena's eyes. She gave him a sly smirk and his eyes drank her in.

"You want some more?" she asked, enunciating each word.

Stack watched her succulent red lips and his gaze dipped to the top of her white blouse, eyeballing the outline of her breasts.

"You undressing me with those eyes, Mr. Moore?"

Dimples.

"I think you're undressing me," he said.

"I been did that," she teased, and sashayed away to serve a counter rush of older men with their mistresses.

She knew he kept his eyes on her ass the way she intended by swinging her hips extra hard.

He loved watching her.

For weeks she acted coquettish and purred his last name any time she served him. Ernie treated him and Smoke as his most trusted muscle men. If he needed an enemy whacked, he sent the Smoke Stack twins with the chopper to deliver a Chicago overcoat first class. Stack strutted around the club with a dominance that aroused her. Most tough guys annoyed her, their performative masculinity a tremendous joke to her.

Not Stack.

He oozed overt power, and she wanted a taste of that in her bed.

"Be careful, Lena, being a gangster's woman ain't the life you want," Max warned on a different night.

He caught her ogling Stack. Lena loved the way his thighs stretched the material of his pants, and she licked her lips at the heavy bulge in the crotch. What she would give to sit on all that hefty weight. She flirted with the gangster using long unblinking stares on him, and lightly touched his hand whenever she served glasses of rum, gin, or the moonshine he liked to call dog soup. Eventually, he would just beeline to the bar to greet her the moment he walked into the club. He only had eyes for her.

Women were easy for Stack to catch because they threw themselves at him. She lured him in night by night, forcing him to chase her, keeping him expectant, and on his toes. The man hadn't chased a woman for a long time and it showed.

Her calculated seduction worked.

He started bringing her things. Diamond earrings. Real ones. Fancy gold hair clips and chocolate candy in heart boxes. He asked around and found out her favorite snack was the roasted peanuts sold a block away on the street from an old German man. He left her small warm bags at the bar before her shift started on Fridays to last her all weekend. She showed up to work one night and Max could barely contain himself. He handed her a large box with a knee-length fur coat inside.

He asked her out a few times, but she played demure, citing the rules of employees not fraternizing with employers.

"Aw Lena. I don't own this place…I work for the man who does. He pays your checks, not me."

"The other girls will be mad if they see me with you."

"Fuck 'em."

"I'll think about it."

He floated for a week after she said that. Like most men, he wanted a slut to fuck in private, but a good girl to woo in public.

A month later, Lena had a rough night with some rowdy patrons. Lower-level men of Ernie's syndicate. Stack had been out of town on business, and she missed interacting with him. His flirty nature kept her work nights fun, and they flew by fast. Without him, they dragged on for hours.

After Lena helped clean the bar area and counted money at closing, the numbers man slid over to Max and handed him a fifteen dollar win.

"Holy shit!" Max shouted.

He turned to Lena, his eyes shiny with joy.

"I'm taking you to Al's Diner for steak and eggs!"

Lena grabbed her coat and purse and walked out of the club with Max. Bernice joined them. They caught a cab to Al's Diner in a seedier area, but the food was delicious. Lena ate her fill and listened to Max make plans to buy his girlfriend new dresses, and a new tailored suit with nice dress shoes to replace the clodhoppers he wore outside of work. Bernice planned a rent party and Lena promised to spread the word and address to their shared apartment building. Max offered to pay for all the food at her party so she could sell dinner plates and keep all the proceeds.

After Max splurged on chocolate malts, she shared another cab ride with Bernice to her second-floor walk-up.

Another week passed, and Stack didn't come to the Sunset. Lena worried that the Italian mafia under Al Capone's orders gunned him down in the windy city or Bugs Moran and the Irish mob caught him slipping and threw him in Lake Michigan. Smoke huddled with Ernie and the other men in their crew, talking animatedly. She made her way around the bar counter. Tensions around the city had been thick among the immigrant groups, but colored folks kept on striving for better. Tempted to ask the other twin about his brother, she felt two muscular arms lift her up when she headed to the secret storage room to retrieve more spirits.

"Stack!"

Her heart triple-thumped in her chest like a train roaring down an uneven track. She turned and threw her arms around his neck instinctively.

"You missed me," he whispered in her ear.

The vibration of his voice along the delicate skin on her neck thrilled her. The breathiness in the shell of her ear heated the blood in her veins.

She kissed him.

Smashed her plump wanton lips across his fuller ones and slipped her tongue past the seam, tasting the strong whiskey on his breath. Their heads slanted for the proper angle to slide warm tongues together. His deep kisses sent love pulses straight down to her toes. Stack tongued her breathless hidden behind an alcove. He cradled her face before pulling away first.

"Damn. I ain't been kissed like that before," he drawled out in his delta accent.

She held his longing gaze in the yellow light of the hanging lamp that dangled above them. As tough as he was, his face looked so gentle and pure up close. Like a big ole puppy that just wanted to play fetch with her heart.

"Go out with me tonight," he asked.

She tickled the facial hair on his chin, then ran a slender finger down the part in his hair.

"How 'bout you go out with me?"

He grinned.

"Where?"

"It won't be nowhere high class like you're used to, but you'll have a good time. Promise."

He lunged for her mouth again, wrapping his beefy arms around her waist, lifting her off her feet.

"Oh, no wonder it's taking you so long to bring those bottles out," her co-worker Frank said.

Lena jerked away from Stack and grabbed the bottles she came for. She rushed past Frank, beaming all the way back to the bar.

Chapter 2 HERE.

A.N.:

Thanks for your patience! It's easier to do little chapters to buy me time to finish it. But y'all read so darn fast though!

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[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

By Bill Shaw

The latest wastewater surveillance data show that the COVID-19 pandemic has entered its tenth wave in the United States. Last week’s spike in wastewater was the highest percentage increase in transmission in almost three years, though these figures could be revised downwards and the full severity of the wave will only become clear in the coming weeks. One reason for the rapid jump appears to be a later start for the “winter surge” than is typical, and thus the virus could be quickly rising to a level that has now become typical for this time of year.

The Pandemic Mitigation Collaborative (PMC) model estimates that 1.6 percent of Americans are presently infected and capable of transmitting the virus to others. That is 1 in 64 people and represents nearly 750,000 new COVID-19 cases per day. That means that on a flight of 100 people, there is an 80 percent chance that at least one person is infectious; on a flight of 300 people that rises to a 99 percent chance.

This level of transmission exceeds the levels for 73 percent of the duration of the pandemic to date. Given the known incidence of Long COVID, the current levels of transmission are generating an estimated 200,000 new cases of Long COVID per week.

Not a word about this latest COVID-19 wave has been uttered by the Biden administration or any major outlet in the corporate media. The entire political establishment is in agreement on the need to enforce the pro-corporate policy of “forever COVID,” in which the working class and broad layers of society as a whole are condemned to unending waves of mass infection, death and debilitation with Long COVID.

The PMC model projects that the current winter surge could peak between New Year’s Day and January 7. Because COVID-19 transmission followed a completely different pattern in 2024 than any other year of the pandemic, it is more difficult to forecast transmission during the current surge. This year’s summer surge was unusually late and sustained, while also declining abnormally rapidly, and the lull between the summer and winter surges was atypically long.

The latest data on test positivity and emergency department visits from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) show both these indicators on the increase. Hospitalizations and deaths are typically lagging indicators, and although they have not yet increased, they are likely to rise as well in the coming week or two.

The new XEC variant continues to increase as a percentage of COVID-19 infections, now estimated at 44 percent, compared to 33 percent a week ago. It is now the most common variant, having surpassed the KP3.1.1 variant per the most recent data.

Given the total absence of governmental support for the renovation of infrastructure to ensure that indoor air is purified in public spaces, the only defenses against COVID-19 continue to be vaccines and non-pharmaceutical measures, such as social distancing and masking. Vaccination additionally protects against the most adverse outcomes of COVID-19, including death and hospitalization, while providing moderate protection against Long COVID.

Unfortunately, misinformation coupled with the potential expense of paying for a costly vaccine have resulted in extremely low vaccination rates for COVID-19. Per the latest CDC data, only 21.0 percent of American adults reported that they have received the latest vaccine released at the beginning of the Fall. Coverage of children is even worse at 10.6 percent, or approximately half the rate of adults.

Dr. Alexander Sloboda, medical director of immunizations for the Chicago Department of Public Health, said:

There’s still a lot of misinformation, disinformation, particularly around the COVID vaccine, so just trying to overcome the misinformation, disinformation that’s out there with correct information is what we’re trying to do. Obviously, it’s a kind of an uphill battle.

In another development this week related to the science of COVID-19 treatment, a study from 2020 that purported to show that hydroxychloroquine was an effective treatment was finally retracted. According to the journal’s retraction notice, the paper was pulled because of ethical transgressions and major flaws in methodology.

Even though numerous scientists immediately spotted and exposed the flaws of the study, it took four years of campaigning before the journal editors finally relented and retracted the paper this month. In fact, a lead author on the study, Didier Raoult, at one point threatened legal action against the whistleblowers who challenged the study. One of the journal editors was a co-author of the study, likely a factor in the long time period between the paper being discredited and it being retracted.

The scientific discourse over the study included subsequent identification of additional serious methodological flaws in 2023. Recently, three of the study’s authors wrote a letter to the journal requesting a retraction, acknowledging that no confidence could be placed in the “results” and stating explicitly that they no longer wished to be associated with the paper.

Notably, Raoult has so far had 28 papers retracted, including this one. Raoult leads the French Hospital Institute of Marseille Mediterranean Infection (IHU). Overall, 32 papers authored by IHU members, including Raoult, have been retracted. Investigations are underway on at least 100 more papers by this group, mostly due to concerns that the studies violated ethical standards.

The discredited hydroxychloroquine study spawned massive misinformation promoting the drug as a treatment for COVID-19. The most infamous episodes involved then-President Donald Trump, who in a period of two months in 2020 made 11 tweets about unproven therapies for COVID-19 and mentioned them 65 times in White House briefings. Trump repeatedly referenced this now-retracted study, even after it had been discredited. During that time, purchases of hydroxychloroquine on Amazon surged by 200 percent.

With Trump returning to the presidency and having nominated a slate of anti-science quacks to every public health-related leadership position in the federal government—overseen by the notorious purveyor of anti-vaccine disinformation Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.—the working class must heighten its vigilance against medical misinformation and follow the advice of principled scientists. Any one of Trump’s nominees is damaging, but collectively it will be catastrophic when their pseudo-science becomes official policy.

Official policy under Biden already is criminally permitting the pandemic to continue to cause death and disability virtually unchecked. The constant emergence of new variants, including at least three major new variants this year alone, is a product of the dismantling of public health measures to contain the virus. Protecting the public’s health requires more than just vigilance. The working class must organize on its own political program to replace capitalism with socialism, a social system that prioritizes human health over private profit.

[fishfooddude]

Elementary School

Carmy x Fem!Reader fluff A/N: the teacher x carmy vibe is my hyper fixation; it's a fun troupe.

The Bear MasterList

Directory

“1-2-3, eyes on me!” “1-2, eyes on you!” you smiled as you heard the 15 little voices respond to your attention-grabbing technique. “Okay, my friends, we need to pick up all of our toys before we go home. After clean up, we’re gonna pick up our backpacks and paintings from art class, then go outside to wait for our adults!” you announced.

“So you’re pickin' your girlfriend up from kindergarten?” Carmy rolled his eyes at Richie’s laughter. “You want Eva to get inta her school? Be fuckin’ nice.” Richie laughed again, shaking his head as the two left the restaurant. “It’s just funny, Cousin. She talks to fuckin’ four-year-olds all day. She talk to ya’ bout your big feelings?” Carmy glared at him as he unclipped his keys from his pants. “Shut the fuck up, Richie.” 

You stared at the whiteboard before you, trying to think of a positive affirmation for the kids to say the following morning when your door swung open. “Hey there, sweetheart,” Richie announced. “Hi, Richie, how you doin’?” you smiled, thankful for the distraction; Carmy was hot on his tail and shot you a smile. “Hey baby, he insisted on comin’.” you laughed and shrugged, “I assume you want to harass Teacher Jackie about gettin' Eva into school here.” Richie shrugged, “Carmy said this is like the best school in Chicago….” you shook your head. “She’s down the hall in room 3. She also just broke up with her boyfriend, so if you flirt a little… might get an interview for next semester's admin.” Richie was intrigued and quickly walked down the hallway, leaving you and Carmy alone. 

“Sorry ‘bout him… how was your day baby?” you shrugged, “No one had any accidents, so that was a good thing.” Carmy nodded and stepped closer to you, resting his hands on your hips, “That’s good.” “I also had the best lunch ever…” Carmy chuckled “Oh really?” you nodded, biting your lip playfully. “Yeah, this guy I know slept over last night- he woke up early, made me breakfast, and packed me lunch… need to thank him tonight…” Carmy shook his head before kissing you softly as you moved your hand to Carmy’s neck, “Dam Cousin, can’t be makin’ out in here.” Richie snarked, resulting in you pulling away from Carmy prematurely. Carmy sighed “Later.” you nodded in confirmation that this wasn’t the end.

[star-lights-up]

i just keep thinking like... cherik romcom aus. just the fluffiest romcoms out there, but cherik.

and then i rewatched while you were sleeping, my all time favorite romcom, and realized that cherik would actually do great with a borderline creepy, chaotic premise. Because what are they if not chaotic and filled with longing stares.

I give you:

Erik's mom passed away two years ago, leaving him working at the train station in chicago. He is desperately lonely, though he'll never admit it.

One day, on christmas, when he's the only one working, a woman comes through his booth just like usual, but then some dudes instigate a bit of a fight and, well, she gets pushed onto the train tracks.

He jumps down and drags her out of the way of the train just in time, and she's rushed to the hospital, where it's discovered that she's in a coma.

He's not allowed in to see her, because he's not family, so one of the nurses tells the doctor that he's her fiance. Because who's going to care?

And then this big family comes into the hospital room -- it's mostly teenagers and young adults, it seems, though there's one older man who seems to be in charge of the group. Erik, promptly, gets introduced by the doctor as the woman (who turns out to be named "raven")'s fiance. All hell breaks loose, and somehow he can't manage to tell the family that it's not true.

They invite him over for a christmas re-do the next time they see him. He explains that he's jewish. They tell him to come anyways, they want to get to know him, maybe he can tell them a bit about his own holiday traditions, since he's going to be a part of the family and they'll "probably end up adopting them too!" as the jovial older man, oliver, says. (that's the "guy in black suit" that never gets a name in first class)

So Erik goes. And gosh, there's a lot of people in this family: Alex and Hank and Sean and Angel and Darwin and Moira and someone named Charles who hasn't shown up yet. And it turns out they're this kind of cobbled-together, adopted, found family that Erik, well... he kind of fits into. And he hasn't fit into anything for so long. It's nice.

And then, of course, he meets Charles. And charles is a pain in the ass. He interrogates him about whether or not he's really raven's fiance.... which, he isn't, so technically that's fair, but it still gets incredibly annoying.

And then somewhere along the way, their arguing turns into talking, which turns into erik considering Charles as a maybe-kinda-sorta friend, which turns into erik realizing, oh, shit, he's fallen for Charles.

His fake fiance's brother. Who thinks that he's his sister's fiance.

Erik's about to come clean when Raven wakes up. She immediately calls him on his bullshit, leading to the most awkward explanation of his life.... but the family welcomes him back with open arms.

"You're stuck with us, now." Charles whispers, elbowing him in the side as they get more info from raven's doctor about her recovery.

Slowly, Erik works up the courage to ask Charles out. Charles accepts. They have a whirlwind romance and get married after four months. They bicker and flirt and are an insufferably domestic and happy couple. They have twins through surrogacy -- and they name the baby girl "wanda" after the nurse who told the doctors erik was raven's fiance and caused their meeting. They live happily ever after, the end.

i ended up cutting the creepiness out of this 😂 no erik crushing super hard on raven in the beginning like lucy and peter.

EDIT: here's some art

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Emil Ferris’s long-awaited “My Favorite Thing Is Monsters Book Two”

NEXT WEEKEND (June 7–9), I'm in AMHERST, NEW YORK to keynote the 25th Annual Media Ecology Association Convention and accept the Neil Postman Award for Career Achievement in Public Intellectual Activity.

Seven years ago, I was absolutely floored by My Favorite Thing Is Monsters, a wildly original, stunningly gorgeous, haunting and brilliant debut graphic novel from Emil Ferris. Every single thing about this book was amazing:

https://memex.craphound.com/2017/06/20/my-favorite-thing-is-monsters-a-haunting-diary-of-a-young-girl-as-a-dazzling-graphic-novel/

The more I found out about the book, the more amazed I became. I met Ferris at that summer's San Diego Comic Con, where I learned that she had drawn it over a while recovering from paralysis of her right – dominant – hand after a West Nile Virus infection. Each meticulously drawn and cross-hatched page had taken days of work with a pen duct-taped to her hand, a project of seven years.

The wild backstory of the book's creation was matched with a wild production story: first, Ferris's initial publisher bailed on her because the book was too long; then her new publisher's first shipment of the book was seized by the South Korean state bank, from the Panama Canal, when the shipper went bankrupt and its creditors held all its cargo to ransom.

My Favorite Thing Is Monsters told the story of Karen Reyes, a 10 year old, monster-obsessed queer girl in 1968 Chicago who lives with her working-class single mother and her older brother, Deeze, in an apartment house full of mysterious, haunted adults. There's the landlord – a gangster and his girlfriend – the one-eyed ventriloquist, and the beautiful Holocaust survivor and her jazz-drummer husband.

Karen narrates and draws the story, depicting herself as a werewolf in a detective's trenchcoat and fedora, as she tries to unravel the secrets kept by the grownups around her. Karen's life is filled with mysteries, from the identity of her father (her brother, a talented illustrator, has removed him from all the family photos and redrawn him as the Invisible Man) to the purpose of a mysterious locked door in the building's cellar.

But the most pressing mystery of all is the death of her upstairs neighbor, the beautiful Annika Silverberg, a troubled Holocaust survivor whose alleged suicide just doesn't add up, and Karen – who loved and worshiped Annika – is determined to get to the bottom of it.

Karen is tormented by the adults in her life keeping too much from her – and by their failure to shield her from life's hardest truths. The flip side of Karen's frustration with adult secrecy is her exposure to adult activity she's too young to understand. From Annika's cassette-taped oral history of her girlhood in an Weimar brothel and her escape from a Nazi concentration camp, to the sex workers she sees turning tricks in cars and alleys in her neighborhood, to the horrors of the Vietnam war, Karen's struggle to understand is characterized by too much information, and too little.

Ferris's storytelling style is dazzling, and it's matched and exceeded by her illustration style, which is grounded in the classic horror comics of the 1950s and 1960s. Characters in Karen's life – including Karen herself – are sometimes depicted in the EC horror style, and that same sinister darkness crowds around the edges of her depictions of real-world Chicago.

These monster-comic throwbacks are absolute catnip for me. I, too, was a monster-obsessed kid, and spent endless hours watching, drawing, and dreaming about this kind of monster.

But Ferris isn't just a monster-obsessive; she's also a formally trained fine artist, and she infuses her love of great painters into Deeze, Karen's womanizing petty criminal of an older brother. Deeze and Karen's visits to the Art Institute of Chicago are commemorated with loving recreations of famous paintings, which are skillfully connected to pulp monster art with a combination of Deeze's commentary and Ferris's meticulous pen-strokes.

Seven years ago, Book One of My Favorite Thing Is Monsters absolutely floored me, and I early anticipated Book Two, which was meant to conclude the story, picking up from Book One's cliff-hanger ending. Originally, that second volume was scheduled for just a few months after Book One's publication (the original manuscript for Book One ran to 700 pages, and the book had been chopped down for publication, with the intention of concluding the story in another volume).

But the book was mysteriously delayed, and then delayed again. Months stretched into years. Stranger rumors swirled about the second volume's status, compounded by the bizarre misfortunes that had befallen book one. Last winter, Bleeding Cool's Rich Johnston published an article detailing a messy lawsuit between Ferris and her publishers, Fantagraphics:

https://bleedingcool.com/comics/fantagraphics-sued-emil-ferris-over-my-favorite-thing-is-monsters/

The filings in that case go some ways toward resolve the mystery of Book Two's delay, though the contradictory claims from Ferris and her publisher are harder to sort through than the mysteries at the heart of Monsters. The one sure thing is that writer and publisher eventually settled, paving the way for the publication of the very long-awaited Book Two:

https://www.fantagraphics.com/products/my-favorite-thing-is-monsters-book-two

Book Two picks up from Book One's cliffhanger and then rockets forward. Everything brilliant about One is even better in Two – the illustrations more lush, the fine art analysis more pointed and brilliant, the storytelling more assured and propulsive, the shocks and violence more outrageous, the characters more lovable, complex and grotesque.

Everything about Two is more. The background radiation of the Vietnam War in One takes center stage with Deeze's machinations to beat the draft, and Deeze and Karen being ensnared in the Chicago Police Riots of '68. The allegories, analysis and reproductions of classical art get more pointed, grotesque and lavish. Annika's Nazi concentration camp horrors are more explicit and more explicitly connected to Karen's life. The queerness of the story takes center stage, both through Karen's first love and the introduction of a queer nightclub. The characters are more vivid, as is the racial injustice and the corruption of the adult world.

I've been staring at the spine of My Favorite Thing Is Monsters Book One on my bookshelf for seven years. Partly, that's because the book is such a gorgeous thing, truly one of the great publishing packages of the century. But mostly, it's because I couldn't let go of Ferris's story, her characters, and her stupendous art.

After seven years, it would have been hard for Book Two to live up to all that anticipation, but goddammit if Ferris didn't manage to meet and exceed everything I could have hoped for in a conclusion.

There's a lot of people on my Christmas list who'll be getting both volumes of Monsters this year – and that number will only go up if Fantagraphics does some kind of slipcased two-volume set.

In the meantime, we've got more Ferris to look forward to. Last April, she announced that she had sold a prequel to Monsters and a new standalone two-volume noir murder series to Pantheon Books:

https://twitter.com/likaluca/status/1648364225855733769

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/01/the-druid/#oh-my-papa

[nyc-pizza-rat]

love the idea of destiel just stealing a random baby for no reason whatsoever. like they're in like chicago or something and it's maybe ghouls or shifters or some other creature that eats people. and when they get to one of the crime scenes while on the case, they see that there's a baby over there and they fully can and should hand the baby over to very living relatives that are there but at first they steal the baby for plot reasons. maybe cas is like oh this baby has seen the monsters I can edward cullen it from her brain. also if it's a shifter, it could also be that the real relatives are somewhere else and they're temporarily saving that baby or whatever. but then after the case, they're kind of attached. and Dean's just like. well. i wanna keep her. and sams like hahaha what. and Dean's like. idk. isn't she precious. i wanna keep her. and sam is like 😶‍🌫️ but cas is all. OH? NEW BABY? YOU WANT TO KEEP HER? OKAY!! OKAY!! 🥰 (famously has taken hours of doula classes and read parenting books and wants to have a baby to raise soooo bad). so like. they just have this baby now. and dean doesn't have to worry about 4 am feedings and whatnot bc cas doesn't sleep anyway. and he's talking to that baby like she's an adult and she's got these BIG BUGGY BLUE EYES whenever he talks & Dean just loves that about her and sam on the other hand is frantically texting Eileen like hey I know this is soon but can I please move in with you please pick me up I'm scared. and jack is soooooo jealous of that little baby he's like JUST BECAUSE SHE'S 3 APPLES TALL? WATCH ME! so now there's like 2 babies and sam is packing his bags and destiel are doing destiel and it would be SO FUNNY PLEASE JUST ONE EPISODE OF SITCOM NONSENSE

[chicago-geniza]

The first question this interviewer asks Eric Bogosian is why he doesn't have a stereotypical Boston accent and he's like first of all very few people do second of all you can hear it a little when I speak second of all the country has become more "accentless" with time in part from watching television and movies where actors and newsreaders adopt a pseudo-neutral accent (albeit no longer a totally sui generis transatlantic affectation) and I agree with him for the most part except

I could hear immediately that he was from Massachusetts because I am from Vermont and regional differences within New England are I guess more pronounced to my ear

I think as with the stereotypical Baltimore, Philly, NYC, Chicago, any major urban area accents in the US. The really heavy ones are marked to different degrees by class and race and associated in the popular imagination accordingly. So Eric's milder accent says something about his upbringing. Plus he was in the suburbs so like it's kind of a moot point lol. Plus he's an actor and has lived in NYC for his entire adult life

[renthony]

From the article:

Christopher Santiago recalls being skeptical the first time he heard about basic income — giving people cash with no conditions on how to spend it. It was 2020, when presidential candidate Andrew Yang pitched it for all American adults, and Santiago thought, "That doesn't make much sense." But for a year now, Santiago has been getting $500 a month through one of the largest cash aid pilots in the U.S., and he's come around. The single dad of three lives in Alsip, Ill., and was one of a whopping 233,000 people who applied for the program in Cook County, which includes Chicago. (There was a lottery to pick the 3,250 participants.) As a public employee, his income is toward the upper end of the program cutoff, but he says it hardly feels like enough for a family of four. Snuggling on the couch next to his youngest daughter, 9-year-old Calliope, he says the extra cash has helped him manage skyrocketing prices for everything. And it's let him provide more for his children, including ballet classes, a birthday visit to Disney on Ice, and family trips. "It's a hard thing to have to tell a child, 'No,' " he says. "It kind of kills you a little bit." Santiago was also able to avoid a mini-emergency when right after a weekend trip, his furnace broke. "It was a $700 part and I was just like, 'Oh God, this would have sunk me.' "

[worldmediathewhowhatwhen]

A Catholic nun was the first U.S. woman to earn a Ph.D. in computer science.

Although computer science goes back to the 19th century, the academic field really came into its own in the early 1960s. The first United States graduates with advanced computer science degrees emerged in the middle of that decade, and the first two Ph.D. candidates graduated on the same day (from different schools) on June 7, 1965. One of the graduates was not only the first U.S. woman to earn a Ph.D. in the field, but also a nun: Sister Mary Kenneth Keller, who earned her degree from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. (The other candidate was Irving Tang of Washington University in St. Louis.)

Keller was born Evelyn Keller, and her name was changed to Mary Kenneth after she took her vows with the Sisters of Charity of the Blessed Virgin Mary (BVM) in 1933 at age 19. She was assigned to teach elementary and high school for the next 29 years, so she earned her academic degrees slowly so as not to interfere with her duties. She graduated from DePaul University with a bachelor’s degree in mathematical sciences in 1943 and a master’s in mathematics in 1952.

Keller was working as a high school math teacher in Chicago when she took her first computer workshop in 1961. “I just went out to look at a computer one day,” she told religious publication The Witness, “and I never came back.” By delegating mundane tasks to computers, Keller said, people could “aspire to higher levels of thinking.” After graduation, she founded the computer science department at Clarke University, a college founded by the BVM in Dubuque, Iowa. She also taught adult computer classes on the side, including tutoring the famed architect Buckminster Fuller, and helped develop educational modules for BASIC programming.

An escaped Renaissance nun lived her life as a swashbuckling man.

Soon after Spanish Basque nun Catalina de Erauso, born in the late 16th century, escaped her convent at age 15, she sewed her first set of men’s clothing from her own habit. She lived the rest of her life under multiple assumed male identities, eventually settling on Antonio de Erauso. During her many adventures, she killed seven people (including her own brother), took women as lovers, worked as a soldier in Latin America, and had multiple run-ins with the law, including avoiding two death sentences. After disclosing her story to a bishop in 1623, she became an international celebrity.

[sincerelystarry]

( 🍯 ) . * honey . . . daisy jones & the six readersona !!

𝜗𝜚 𓂃 personality !!

honey is as sweet as her name. she cares a lot for all of her friends, serves as kind of a mom friend. she bakes cookies, makes bread, knits and crochets, makes handmade jewelry, paints, and fosters more than enough kittens. honey has always been a bit of a dreamer. she loves fairytales and happily ever afters in her youth and would fantasize as a kid about being a princess and one day meeting her prince charming. even as an adult, those fantasies aren’t really gone. they’ve just shrunk, become less dramatic. instead of a princess, she's now an actress, just like her mother. that way, she can live out some wilder fantasies, but still come back to reality. and instead of a prince charming, maybe a cute bassist in a band will suffice. 

𝜗𝜚 𓂃 timeline !!

honey was born and raised in LA and is something of a nepo baby. her father is a director and her mom is an actor, she always thought that their “meet-cute” was straight out of a romance novel, and always wished to have one for herself. her mom inspired her to act as well, and honey had been doing voice lessons and acting classes since middle school. she always preferred the stage rather than the screen, but will do either if needed. 

when she’s not on the road filming or at rehearsals for some play or musical, honey is usually at her home, taking care of her foster cats and indulging in one of her many hobbies. whether this is baking or cooking, some sort of art project (maybe a new cardigan, despite how hot LA is, even in the winters, or a new bracelet with some cute beads she found at a store), or trying and failing to write her own music. 

she met eddie roundtree at a record store when they reached for the same (and last) vinyl of david bowie’s “ziggy stardust.” she let him take it as long as he could recommend her another album to buy. he handed her a copy of “seven eight nine,” and she didn't realize he was on the album cover. he gave her his number, telling her to call him once she listens to the album.

she listened to the album, called his number and they chatted, but she still didn't realize he's the bassist for the six until a few weeks later when she was having drinks at the whisky a go go with some friends. she heard the six play “silver nail” on stage and spotted eddie on the bass and was completely shocked and in awe, whispering to her friends “that’s him! that’s the guy i met at the record place! he’s in a band!!!!!” super excitedly. 

honey found eddie after the show, she was basically skipping around the whisky with joy as she looked for him, and they talked and she met karen then too, who recognized her and her parents. after eddie managed to get himself and honey away from karen, eddie bought honey another one of her sweet fruity cocktails she’s so partial to (with slight judgement, but it's not genuinely mean), and asked her on a real date. 

their relationship is not perfect, but they always remind themselves at least their love lives aren’t as complicated as billy’s. eddie doesn’t sleep with camila in this universe, he’s happy with honey. sometimes he’ll get a bit too fucked up on coke or booze and honey has to nurse him back to health, but she doesn’t mind taking care of him, and at least he’s not at addiction status. she’s an anchor for him, and convinces him not to quit the band in chicago, instead telling him that she’d talk to billy and make him see some sort of reason. the talk is more of a lecture, but it works. eddie can't be more thankful for his girl.

𝜗𝜚 𓂃 honey masterlist !!

suffragette city — 1.8k, fluff

my way of life — 1.2k, fluff

main masterlist

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

⋆⟡˚ ཐི⋆♱ 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 ♱⋆ཋྀ ˚⟡⋆

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: alex nilsen x fem reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you two always love going to the schools haunted house during halloween every year except this year the student upped the ante

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: fluff, haunted house (but at school), students are MAD jealous of you two, couple costume, you're a comp sci teacher

𝐚/𝐧: baby's first alex fic!!! hope this was good and did I project my love for computer science AND tangled onto this fic? why yes, yes i did, hope you enjoy!

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟-𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

All the students at East Linfield High knew never, ever, to go even near the Literature classroom during lunch. 

The seniors knew exactly why so they warned the younger students, drilling into them not to even think about getting anywhere close to the Literature classroom during lunch.

Yet, every year, there’s always a group of ballsy freshmen and sophomores that walk by the classroom. Giggling and tiptoeing their way through the hallways, inching closer and closer to the classroom when they’d hear laughter. The students would stall outside the door when even more laughter would escape the room, actually even smells of wonderful food would escape the room.

They would stop, look at each other, before peaking into the room noticing their Computer Science teacher laughing it away with the Literature teacher.

They would smile softly as the two teachers joked around, dancing around the classroom, and kiss so softly. Their chests would swell with jealousy at the two adults’ love for each other.

And what a love it was you two had. You and Alex had known each other forever, having gone to University of Chicago where Alex also had gone. You two took your core classes together, scheduling your days to be aligned so you two could hang out with each other. But, when you two had to go into more major specific classes, you two split. Like a Kit-Kat, except one side didn’t have any wafers while one side didn’t have any chocolate. 

It was sad to say the least, both of you felt a part of your heart being chiseled out of your hearts. You were never the same, even when you eventually found a job at East Linfield High just two years after getting your degree in Computer Sciences.

Your parents found it quite odd moving to Linfield, Ohio of all places.

To you, it just felt right. 

Especially, a few years after starting as the sole Computer Science teacher, when you spectacularly find out that the new English teacher was actually your best friend by bumping into him, making the orange juice in his hands spill all over his fresh button down shirt he had worn for his first day. 

Alex had been just as surprised to see you, unsure of what to do when he found himself looking down at you. Memories started rushing back, his blood rushing as he finally saw you. Memories of late night study sessions, of early morning runs together (occasionally), of laughter in your dorm room. Memories of warm cuddles, soft smiles, and loving hugs. Memories of near kisses and confessions that never quite made it out either of your lips. 

You took one look at his hazel eyes and brunette hair and fell all over again. Your heart tripped in your chest, your mouth slightly open, ready to say hi or something yet nothing came out.

You two just smiled at each other for a second, taking in each other once more. You laughed jumping up into his arms, orange juice soaked shirt be damned. You squealed, jumping up into his arms nuzzling his neck, breathing him in. Alex sighed, pressing his nose against your hair. He held you steadyfast, his strong arms wrapped around your middle, hoisting you up. 

“Oi, get a room! Teacher meeting starts soon!” Your colleague, one of the other English teachers, yells at you two. You two laugh, Alex setting you down.

He nuzzles his nose against yours, “Orange you glad to see me?”

“Alex, we have to get back to teaching classes.” You whine into his shoulder, the soft polyester cotton mix muffling your voice slightly. 

He laughs, pressing his lips to your  forehead again. “Are you sure? I’m sure those seniors could do without me for a class period.”

“Alex,” you look up at him meeting his hazelnut eyes, “the tenth graders definitely need me. There’s no way I’m just gonna throw Java at them without showing them what the hell it all means, I don't think you would want to have Java just thrown at you, would you?”

“No you’re absolutely right darling, I wouldn’t want java thrown at me.” Alex smirks, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

You chuckle, “Babe, are you sure you know what Java is?”

He nuzzles your nose, kissing you softly on the lips, “Nope, not a clue.”

You laugh, the school bell ringing signaling the start of the passing period. You press another kiss to his lips before leaving his classroom, your dress’ skirt swishing at your shins.

You walk to your classroom, waving at past students and smiling at others. You finally get to your room, set your bag down and get started with class.

“And don’t forget the homework! It’s a free response question where you write the class and the methods, okay? Don’t forget!” You remind your students as they start to file out of the classroom.

“Miss?” Sandy, one of your lovely junior students, walks up to you with her other friends Jameson and Nico.

“Hmm, yes Sandy? What can I do for you?”

“I was just wondering if you had any plans for Halloween. It’s coming up soon and we have this class that day so I was wondering if we are actually going to do some more coding and Java work or if we could maybe do a Halloween themed class?”

You laugh, “Yes, don’t worry, Halloween won’t be too intense, I promise. And while we will be doing some coding, the overall activity for that day is very much spooky themed.”

“Are you doing a couple costumes with Mr.Nilsen?” Nico asks, the dear already a senior taking Lit with Alex.

“Maybe? Do you have any suggestions because me and him haven’t really talked about it.”

“OHH!” Sandy exclaims, “You two should definitely do like a Disney couple, those ones are always so cute!”

“Or you two could do a spooky themed costume like the Corpse Bride.” Nico smiles.

You smile right back, your next class already filing in. “I’ll definitely talk to Alex about those suggestions. Now, run along to class.”

They laugh, walking slowly to the door with a loud “Thank you!”

You and Alex lay on your shared bed, the silky green sheets wrinkling underneath your figures. Alex’s breaths came out labored as you stood, turning on his very fancy humidifier adding essential oils. You grab a shirt, throwing it on.

“You look so beautiful baby.” He murmurs as you lay back down next to him.

“Right back atcha tiger.” You smile, resting your head on his chest, the rising and falling of his chest comforting.

“Hey Alex?”

“Yes darling?”

“Would you do a couple costumes with me?” You sit up, resting on one elbow, your other hand tracing lazy patterns along his neck to his collarbone.

“Of course I would. Wouldn’t be particularly good but yeah, I’ll do it.”

“Really?”

“Of course, it’s you after all.”

You laugh, poking his chest. “Awww, someone loves me. You would suffer through a costume for me? How adorable.”

“Ugh, how you mock me, woman.”

You laugh, your head falling back to the bed. Alex starts tickling your sides causing you to nearly fall off the bed and turn like a capsizing boat. You shriek as he tickles your belly button. Alex hovers over you, his lips falling to yours.

“Of course I love you. Unless, I need to fuck you again just to remind you, hmm? Bet you would like that, freak.”

You laugh even more, wrapping your arms around his neck and locking your legs around his waist.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

You turn to Alex, his hair all gelled up. He wore a dark turquoise vest with dark brown trousers a white shirt underneath. Of course, he still wore his loafers for “professionalism”.

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be? Besides, it’s our first couple costume and dare I say we look stunning and nailed it?”

He looks at you, his eyes glittering with adoration as he stares at you in your periwinkle purple dress, a green plushie sitting on your shoulders.

“I think it’s a bit premature to say that we ‘nailed it’ darling, or should I say princess?”

You chuckle, your Tangled inspired costume coming together. You had even worn a small tiara you had laying around to complete the look, the Pascal plushie you wore on your shoulder a souvenir from a trip to Tokyo Disneyland a few years ago. 

“I think princess fits a little too well. Beware Alex, I may get used to that nickname.”

“Princess, it would not be an issue if you did.”

You laugh putting on your matching purple heels, grabbing your bag as Alex slings his over his shoulder. He grabs his keys, swiping the lunch you had prepared for the two of you off the counter.

You locked the door, walking to Alex’s car where Alex sat behind the wheel as he did every morning. You only ever drove when Alex couldn’t or on the weekend where you would take your SUV around town.

As Alex started to drive, he played Halloweeny music.

“Are we still on for lunch?” You ask him. He glances over to you as he makes a turn.

“Um, yes? I mean, we can meet in your room this time if that is what you mean.”

“No Alex, I meant, are we still going through the students’ haunted house at lunch?”

“Oh right,” he laughs, rubbing his neck with his hand, “um, sure. But, what if there’s a long line?”

“Then, we wait like any other person.”

“Are you sure darling? What if we don’t get to eat after?”

“Alex, stop overthinking this. If you think we won’t have enough time then we don’t have to go babe, I don’t mind.” You grab his hand clutching the gear shift.

“No, we should go. I’m sorry baby.” He lifts your hand, kissing your knuckles gently as he pulls up to the admin parking.

“Are you sure? We really don’t have to.”

“No, I want to, promise. We’ll meet up outside your room since it’s closer to the library where the haunted house is set up.”

“M’kay!”

Finally, the morning classes were over and it was lunch. You were still fixing your dress, which many students complimented you on, recognizing the Disney princess you were dressed up as quickly. You rushed, grabbing your phone and classroom keys before locking your door and waiting outside for Alex.

“Princess, my love, I have arrived.” Alex played a fake fanfare as you smiled, starting to walk over to him.

Students gasp as they finally see you and Alex in your matching costumes, your arm looping through his. You two happily walk through the halls, asking each other about the other’s day, passing snacks back and forth as you walk to the library. 

Outside the entrance door stood at least 15 students away. Alex shook his head, a sly grin on his face.

“What is it Alex? And if you say ‘I told you so’, you can count yourself girlfriend-less very soon.”

He laughs, some students around you snickering at your antics. “Of course not princess, I was just about to say that you look particularly gorgeous this afternoon. It would be my greatest honor to take such a maiden to lunch.” He dramatizes, his hand taking yours to kiss the ring you wore.

You and the other girls around you giggle, accepting Alex’s offer.

You have to admit, dating one of your colleagues has its pros such as lunch time. You two always always spent lunch together, watching some TV while eating whatever you had prepared or what Alex had ordered, or perhaps even catching up some work in silence as you two ate. But, there were also cons. 

Very large and apparent cons.

Such as the female student population crushing on your boyfriend. Of course, you knew how fit he was, the man runs every morning without fail (unless his back pain ramps up again in which case you have to take care of him, usually leaving home, calling for a sub). You also knew that he was incredibly handsome, outside and in. He was kind and sort of dumb but in the most endearing way ever. Alex was just so incredible, so loving that you knew everyone could see it on his face when he looked at you from across the hall.

So of course, you had to stake your claim every now and then. And now was a time to assert your position as “Alex Nilsen’s one and ONLY girlfriend” but lifting yourself up onto your tip toes and kissing him.

All the girls around you shrieked, the boys (and other younger students) gagging in ‘disgust’. Alex just smiled against your lips, hugging your waist. He dropped his bag softly onto the floor, hoisting you up slightly as he kissed you softly.

“I love you.”

You smile, dropping down onto your heels, “I love you.”

He smiles so quietly but the love you felt at the moment was anything but. It was loud and larger than life.

He pulled out the lunch you made that morning and took a spoonful, giving it to you. You two slowly but surely advanced the line, the number of students in front of you slowly dwindling lower and lower. Finally, you made it to the door without choking on your mouthful of food as you watched him awkwardly interact with the sophomore girls around him.

“Mr.Nilsen!” The senior manning the door greeted your boyfriend.

“Hi there Moon, how’s your day going?”

“Well good, I have to admit. It has been very fun seeing everyone’s reactions to the haunted house.”

“That's fun.”

“Well, you and Miss can go in now. Have a good scare!”

“Thank you Moon, see you later in class.” He waved to the senior.

Your heartbeat slightly, slightly, increases. “Alex, what did she mean by ‘have a good scare’?”

“Oh I’m sure it’s nothing. They were head of the committee this year and decided to up the scare factor of the haunted house this year is all.”

“Mhmm.” You gulped. You start to walk slowly through the haunted library, following the path illuminated by the glow sticks lining the floor.

Suddenly, eerie music starts playing. A groan coming from in front of you takes you by surprise, causing you to yelp and hold onto Alex’s arm.

He chuckles, “Princess, you can’t seriously be scared by the fake groaning and music, right?”

“Hmm, oh yea, pshhh nope, doesn't scare me.”

Immediately you curse your words for jinxing it because as soon as you let out a sigh of relief, an animal masked figure jumps up in front of you, screaming at you causing you to shriek and jump. Alex tenses beside you but laughs it off wrapping his arm around your waist, slowly pushing you faster through the maze of jump scares. More students dressed up in animal motif horror masks jump up from behind curtains and other furniture.

Finally, a student greets you at the end, your blood still humming in your veins. The student holds out a bowl of candy in front of you and Alex and you hurriedly take a random piece of candy before rushing through the exit door before someone else could jump scare you.

“Woah, slow down darling.”

“Slow down?!? Slow down, I need my heart to slow down. I feel like I could run a marathon right now from all this adrenaline.” You say looking down at the chocolate flavored lollipop in your hands, disappointment filling your veins. “Look I was scared so shitless I grabbed a chocolate flavored lollipop, a chocolate flavored lollipop! Who even likes these things?”

“Darling, I’m sure there is a Karen out there whose favorite candy is chocolate flavored lollipops. What matters is we got to go through the students’ great haunted house seeing as it ‘scared you shitless’.”

“Oh, do not mock me, Alex Nilsen. You’ll regret it.”

“Darling, I could never regret anything with you.”

“I hate you, Alex” You crash into him, hugging him fiercely, your heart starting to slow down.

“I love you too, princess.”

i sincerely apologize if you like chocolate flavored lollipops, i promise I don't think ya'll are karens i just don't understand but i promise, no hate. hope you enjoyed!

[velvet-waltz]

Character Study: Sylvia Leventhal-Landa (in Velvet Waltz)

This one is about my OC, my main gal, my number one baddest bitch in at least 3 major cities, Sylvia Leventhal-Landa. This is part one, in which I only talk about her in Velvet Waltz; after Stranger in Paradise finishes, I'll write a part two about her arc in that fic.

So who exactly is this ballsy dame who joined the French resistance as an undercover agent, survived an explosion, and got captured by the SS, only to turn their star Standartenführer's entire life and being inside out and change the course of the war??

(spoilers for Velvet Waltz throughout, obviously)

[Just a note that I don't do face claims or anything like that; the pics I chose are just vintage photos that remind me of her. I personally feel however you imagine her is valid!]

OCs are always so two-dimensional and boring.

I'm truly sorry you feel that way!

Does this one have a personality at least???

I think so! Sylvia has a lot of flaws: she's a bit too tough for her own good, a little neurotic, can be emotionally volatile (especially if she's let it build up for awhile), stubborn, and tends to catastrophize. It drives her crazy to *not know.* But she's also thoughtful, extremely loyal, driven by her ideals, and always, always tries to do the right thing, no matter the consequences. Her superpower as an agent is her strong emotional intelligence; she's very good at getting someone on her side, with a controlled opennness. She lets you in but only so far.

She loves the ocean, NY bagels (high standards), crossword puzzles, strong coffee, and sleeping in. She hates hot weather, overripe bananas, wearing heels, and every form of injustice.

Again, however you imagine her is valid! But physically, she's average height, on the heavier/curvy side (what midwesterners call "sturdy"), has greenish-hazel eyes, and dark blonde hair (although she dyes it repeatedly for her cover identities) which she wears in low-maintenance styles. She usually goes for a natural look in both hair and makeup. For clothes, she likes cardigans, collared shirts, simple dresses with pockets, or jeans, with oxfords or loafers.

So who is she, anyway?

Sylvia Leventhal was born in Chicago but mainly grew up on a small farm west of the city, which her father bought when she was small. Her family was lower middle class; the farm, unfortunately, never turned a reliable profit. Her sister Nora is 6 years older, enough of an age difference that she generally had no one to play with, and spent long hours alone in the cornfield. She came to love books, puzzles, and quiet pondering alone in nature.

The most significant thing about her upbringing, though? Her father is Jewish. Her mother is Catholic. In an attempt to blend in with their small Illinois town, her parents raised Sylvia and Nora "vaguely Protestant." She grows up with a sense that whatever they are is wrong and should be hidden.

That sounds...complicated, especially during WWII.

It is. Having grown up so detached from her Jewish heritage, and not particularly believing in anything, the question of identity becomes more and more difficult for her as she grows up. After finishing her linguistics degree at Northwestern, and a very painful breakup, Sylvia heads east to NY, where she lives on the Lower East Side. She befriends practicing Jews there who encourage her to connect with that part of herself. By the time the US enters the war, she's choosing to identify herself as Jewish, while also unsure if she'll ever be "Jewish enough." (a common conundrum, lol)

(Identity is a theme among the agents in her SOE unit; like Alain, the young gay man who uses his cover identity to play with other, less masked versions of himself. Having "pretended" to blend in for so much of her life, it's not a stretch for Sylvia to take on new identities.)

What's her relationship like with her sister and parents?

Nora's the "good sister," always the better student, had the cleaner bedroom, and as an adult, fully embraced her Jewishness by joining a Reform temple and marrying an observant man. As a housewife with children, she looks down on Sylvia, even more when she comes home from Europe with Hans. Sylvia tries over the years to mend their relationship, but with each visit, it feels more and more that Nora only comes to New York to condescend to her.

Ironically, Sylvia's father warms to Hans more than her mother, who finds the whole thing distasteful. They attend the wedding but leave the reception early and become more distant after. As a result, Sylvia rarely visits. She has a lot of guilt about it - as does Hans - but her mother seems unwilling to budge.

How does she end up in Occupied Paris?

I touch on this in VW but officially: She initially signs up to be a WAC (Women's Army Corps, doing non-combat work for the military), through WAC training meets someone connected to recruitment for overseas intelligence work. Captain Peter Blackwell of the British Special Operations Executive sees that she's studied languages and screens her. He's impressed by her emotional intelligence, and willingness to engage in risky missions and combat, and recruits her for a special team: young people gathering intelligence from Nazis, in the guise of service workers, in occupied Paris.

Her first cover identity is "Greta Van Horn," a Swiss art student who works shifts at the Soldatenkaffee (a coffee shop exclusively for German soldiers.)

Sylvia and Hans are an ideal match for each other.

There's intense physical chemistry between them right away, which Sylvia tries to ignore for as long as she possibly can. But as their individual walls come down and they begin to trust one another, all bets are off. In his willingness to sacrifice his own safety for her, she sees a softer, more human side of Hans, and despite her own reservations, falls hard.

For Hans, it's initially a fun diversion: can I get this ferocious resistance fighter to willingly come to my bed? By the time he realizes how hard he's fallen for her, it's much too late to turn back.

The seeming disharmony between the people they are, and what they stand for, is a huge obstacle, of course. But as they work together on sabotage - especially alongside the Basterds - she understands Hans is capable of change, and suddenly a future together seems possible.

Where Sylvia tends towards anxious brooding, Hans is calm and extremely rational. Where Hans is cold and detached, Sylvia feels deeply and reads the feelings of others easily.

Hans deeply respects her intelligence and intensity. He knows she's a true equal and for the first time in his life, he doesn't prefer to be alone. Whereas Sylvia, after her previous engagement fell apart, was prepared to spend the rest of her life alone. Hans coming along absolutely blindsides her, but she realizes this is the husband she never knew she wanted: stimulating, adventurous, and utterly adores her. She never thought anyone could see her so clearly and love her that much.

But what about all the killing...

Yeah, about that. In Velvet Waltz, she wrestles constantly with whether can she spend the rest of her life with a man who's done so much evil, even as it's plain to her how much he's changed. Hans tries to shield her from the specifics of his past, and for about a decade, he's successful.

But crimes like his will never go away. And as much as Sylvia tries to move past it, the question never leaves the back of her mind.

In Stranger in Paradise, the extent of Hans' violence comes bubbling to the surface in a big way, and Sylvia has to rethink her commitment to the love of her life.

The fact is, no matter how much he seems to have changed or how many lives he may have saved in those last 6 months or so of the war, he's still the same man who killed hundreds of innocents, some with his own hands. It will always be a struggle for someone as justice-minded as Sylvia to deal with that.

Sylvia's the best thing that ever happened to him...and also the worst.

Sylvia cracks Hans open. As I said in Hans' character analysis, the 'Landa machine' falls apart as soon as he wants something he can only have by putting himself second. And to have Sylvia, he must behave in ways that jeopardize his position, his reputation, and his own safety.

In cracking him open, she awakens his guilt, which sentences him to a lifetime of misery and self-loathing. Without her? He would've likely gotten away with everything and never felt an ounce of remorse. Now? He has a life with her, and the horrors of his own doing plague him day and night. This is the price he pays for loving Sylvia.

How does Sylvia get along with each of the Basterds?

Aldo - Sylvia's first impression of Aldo is that he's a hell of a character. Almost a cartoon. She's also alarmed by his quickness to resort to violence (like when he 'interrogates' Hans by tying him to a tree and beating the shit out of him.) He's stubborn, and butts heads constantly with Hans, which is a headache for her as well. But she quickly respects his down-home directness and commitment to his mission. For Aldo, he naturally has his suspicions about an American agent in a romantic situation with an SS officer, and wonders if she isn't just naive. But over time, and especially after the 84 Foch raid, he comes to truly respect her, and develops a real fondness. He isolates himself after the war and rarely writes back, which pains Sylvia a great deal. She never stops reaching out.

Donny: Much like Aldo, Donny initially sees Sylvia as a Nazi's whore, full stop, and he's horrified that a Jewish woman would stoop to that. When Aldo sends Donny back to Paris to keep an eye on the two of them, he's prepared to dispatch her as violently as he would any Nazi, should she betray them. But of course, she doesn't, and as they spend more time together in the house, he comes to really genuinely like her, even finding her attractive. His little speech about a "nice Jewish boy" is less about trying to steal her away from Hans, and more just an expression of admiration, and not fully understanding how she and Hans came to be. He's saying, 'I really deeply admire you, and under any other circumstances, I would try to marry you.' For Sylvia, she finds Donny very unnverving, for a long time. Partly his intensity and partly a physical attraction she's afraid to acknowledge. By the time Donny admits he's attracted to her, she's warmed to him quite a bit, and that scene gives her a nice fork in the road moment. She knows Hans is her person, she's already chosen her path; but she pauses to consider what her life would be if she chose Donny instead. It would be easier for sure. But Hans is the one. Donny may not fully understand why she's chosen Hans, but he starts to see what they have, and respects it. Of all the comrades lost in Operation Kino, Donny and Bunny are the two she grieves the most. She and Hans become acquainted with the Donowitzes, and make a point of visiting them in Boston when they go to their house on Nantucket, as well as visiting Donny's marker in the Jewish cemetery.

Wicki, as an Austrian Jew, has a particular distaste for Hans and never fully warms to him. But he likes Sylvia almost immediately. He's impressed by an American who can speak multiple languages and by her straightforwardness. Of all the Basterds, he's the quickest to trust her intentions.

Stiglitz, honestly, barely notices she exists. lol. She's a little freaked out by him but of course, he's useful, especially at 84 Foch. He has exactly one thing on his mind at all times - killing Nazis - so her presence is neither here nor there. But like Wicki, he also quickly decides she's trustworthy.

Omar and Sylvia don't interact much. Omar is pretty weirded out by the entire concept of a Jewish american spy hooking up with a Nazi officer but comes around once he sees her intentions are true.

Hirschberg, however, openly dislikes her and expects her to sell them out. Even during the 84 Foch raid, when she and Hans are a bit late, he assumes they've been set up. It's Donny who snaps at him to shut up.

And what about her bestie Alain??

Of course. "Alain Fournier" (legal name Robert Dixon) trained alongside Sylvia for their mission and they quickly became close friends. Alain is quippy and sees a joke in everything, but he's also very intelligent, and loves discussing ideas as well as gossip. They have their own secret code to reassure the other that they're safe: leaving a toffee wrapper (Sylvia) or a gum wrapper (Alain) at a drop point. When Hans begins investigating Sylvia, Alain is the first agent in her circuit he approaches, and immediately ropes him in. Their mutual adoration of Sylvia bonds them, although Alain never fully gets over his fear of him, lol.

Without spoilering Stranger, let's just say a Basterd's work is never done...and when Hans and Sylvia are asked to hunt down a missing Nazi scientist in Los Angeles, they end up reuniting with some old friends...

So if you enjoyed this analysis, and Velvet Waltz, I do hope you'll continue on to Stranger in Paradise where I am having TOO much fun, probably!!!!

[bearsinpotatosacks]

The beautiful thing about the Bear is that it's such a high stress show that you can apply it to other high stress environments and the AU works. I can see some kind of hospital/medical AU, or, in this case, a dancer AU.

The Berzattos run a dance school for kids, teens, and adults. They do different styles of dance, teach according to syllabus and some of their best students, like Carmen Berzatto even go on to become professionals. Syd used to go there when she was a kid until her dad noticed her passion, and worked extra hard to get into the Joffrey Ballet, then the New York Ballet before she got disillusioned and tried to start her own dance company and failed.

Carmy joined the Joffrey Ballet in Chicago, being taught by Andrea, as a child before being picked up by the Paris Opera ballet, before moving to the Royal Danish Ballet in Copenhagen, then moving onto the San Francisco Ballet before finally joining the American Ballet Theatre in New York, this is where David abuses him.

Mikey didn't have as much promise, he was a good dancer at many things, but didn't have the drive that Carmy did, so runs the dance school instead. He met Richie at the school, his mother was a dancer and she noticed his inability to sit still and put him in the dance school, his dad didn't approve at first but he started getting roles in musicals, he's a brilliant tap dancer and could've gone far in musical theatre but Mikey pulled him in. He got roles, worked hard for them but always got brought back to the dance school eventually.

Tina got into musical theatre 'too late', she's been in a local theatre outside of work but after getting fired, she's heard singing to herself at the bus stop outside the dance school, Mikey hears and offers her a job as the musical theatre teacher with Richie.

Mikey dies and Carmy's left the dance school. The place isn't doing well, they could be going out of business. Syd, who's been idolising him since she saw him in the Royal Danish's production of the Nutcracker, starts to work there. Carmy becomes strict on uniform and respect to the teacher, Richie's more relaxed, he's dance teacher but wants it to be fun, not a military school.

She and Richie don't get on, she's used to the skill levels of professional ballet studios, not local dance schools. She starts to see how good he is with the students, he can control the room easier and his students have more freedom and are generally happier.

Carmy decides to up the stakes of the school's usual yearly show, they promise Jimmy a certain amount of profit and a certain number of new uptake of students. They ask Tina choreograph her own section of the show to whatever she wants, she goes with West Side Story.

Sydney looks at some of the previous shows, and some of the previous work of the teachers to see if there's anything they could possibly do and stumbles upon some of Richie's work in musical theatre. She mentions it to Carmy, they talk to Richie, who's unsure as it's been a while.

She's there late one night when she hears something and sees Richie dancing to Singin in the Rain, which he performed on tour. They talk about dreams and goals, she encourages him to perform, but he's hesitant as it's been so long

Syd and Carmy are going to do a duet, but when it comes to the night, Carmy gets locked in one of the dressing rooms getting something for one of the kids. Syd's scared, so Richie improvises and steps in, he's seen them rehearsing and does his best (is this all because I want to imagine Richie lifting Syd like she weighs nothing? yes).

She joins him in doing 'Moses Supposes' from Singin in the Rain (minus the singing), something he used to perform with Mikey, because she makes him feel confident enough to perform again. They get through, make a fair bit of money and get some sign ups. Richie also gets an invitation to audition for another musical, with Syd's encouragement, he does.

Also added on: Eva being in Richie's dance class, Richie and Syd are in suits when they dance together to 'Moses Supposes', Syd and Richie teaching a class together and reluctantly getting along

[roseamongroses]

sinners; shuriri edition

Shuriri! Sinners au for @idyllicbby ; feat. gender nonconforming/stud/stud Shuriri, handwave historical type of realism idc, it isn’t going to be one/one with the characters/ themes so here me out. Feat: gore, violence, nsfw mentions

.

.

Freshly minted adults---Riri and Natalie got on a train to Chicago. 

Riri had heard stories of a black woman --Janet Brag-- enrolling in the Aeronautical School up there and was pursuing her pilot license. She was the only woman in a class otherwise entirely composed of men. Of course at that thought, Riri had stars in her eyes. She wanted to fly more than anything--everyone always told her to use her big head for something-- and by God that was something. 

At first she was chasing the dream alone, but Natalie had surprised her, buying a ticket as well and linking their arms together. They were gunna take on the big city together--climbing up that mountain of stress and star-gazing together. 

Then life happens. They needed cash and them factory jobs at the shipyard just wasn’t cutting it. They got mixed up with people they had no busy mingling with and--

Now, nine months later, Riri stood at the Clarksdale train station alone. 

She ain’t even proceed it all, really. The heat, the numbness, making her feet move without thinking. She stopped in front of the old-harmonica player, listening to that old blue song. Remembering. Months ago, Natalie had a dream of her own. She wanted to own a juke-joint just like her grand-daddy did back in the day. The blues were the only thing that held  Natalie fondly in those tough times--not the church, and certainly not the mama. 

Riri didn’t know much about music, but--she knew how to run a business. 

Riri stooped down, droppin something in his hat.

The old man hardly glanced up, “I know that ain’t Ronnie’s baby still runnin’ around in them big ole  clothes actin like a man--”

“I ain’t acting like nothing, but myself sir,” Riri said, with a sharp grin.She had her suit blazer slung her thumbs slid underneath her suspenders, snapping them for good measure. 

The harmonica player let out a raspy chuckle, one eye glinting in the sun, “Uhuh. Came back to cause more trouble?” 

“Not here for trouble, sir. I’m just trynna fill yo pockets, but I’m hurt--you won’t even hear my proposition.” 

Riri collecting musicians and the like at 3xs speed. Xavier as preacher boy because of his interest in music and he’d immediately be on board with helping riri <333 

Riri teaching a youg girl how to negotiate [and shooting folks tryna steal from her ad getting them treatment immediately, though i imagine she has some issues with gun violence that leaves her moreso conflicted] 

ENTER; Shuri. Her  auntie would be more aligned with Annie from the movie, but Shuri still dabbles. The main difference is that Shuri is more inclined to question it all--to push the limits a little more if it means unearthing more about humanities secrets, much to her mother’s displeasure. She was sent to live with her aunt for a bit because of all the trouble she was causing. 

 She hears about Riri being back in town and catches her right as she’s securing her aunts assistance with cooking for the juke joint. She wants in--but Riri is not willing to be partners with anybody else, not after everything Natalie went through, but Shuri is persistent. And hot. Riri only relents when Shuri manages to secure the property needed to host the Juke Joint, the two becoming business partners in a way. 

[Stopping by Natalie’s Mother’s house to give her the jar off ashes, but the woman refuses to accept it, even though she’s clearly grieving. ]

Riri visiting her own Mama / It's been such a long time, but the woman still welcomes her with open arms. It's the first time we see her open up/ be vulnerable post-Natalie’s death. Shuri ends up speaking with Ronnie, and the woman asks her to look out for her daughter. 

.

Yadadee Yadadoo// Anyways the club is jumpin or whatver. The vamps have already been turned away once atp, but someone did go to check to see what they had going on and Xavier is sangggggging away lol

Riri’s getting pissy about not making enough money and her and Shuri go to the backroom to argue. Even tho it's night, it's hot, it's sticky. Riri’s rolled up her sleeve forearms and Shuri’s got her shirt collar popped/ unbuttoned the top buttons atp

“I don’t know what type of business you think run like this, but I assure none- of them white folks are accepting any of this--”

Shuri doesn’t back down, “Well we not like them are we--we’re different. Those are good, hard working people just tryna to have a nice time,”

Riri deflating, “...I know it's just…We can’t keep this place open like this,” she grumbles, looking defeated, “I don’t give a rats ass what happens to me at this point, if I lose everything--so be it. But this place? This was for her [Natalie]” 

Shuri understands and is sympathetic. She takes in how stressed/ tired Riri looks, etc etc. She  approaches Riri differently this time. She sidles behind Riri, caching them off guard, but Riri doesn’t fight it as she loops an arm around her, pulling her against her chest, nose running along the slope of her neck. Holding her tight etcetc

“I don’t think I’ve seen you smile once tonight,” Shuri points out, her voice making Riri shudder underneath her, rough hands dragging. Yeah, i’m thinking Riri’s pants around her thighs, her bent over some crates, shuri hands down her pants or eating her out from the-- yep yep yep

Anyways, Riri is in a much better mood and is listening to Xavier sing with some other person atp. Shuri disappears for a bit, deciding to question the person who went to check out the strangers earlier and see if they managed to get some money. She decided to do this in hopes of taking some of the burden off of Riri, but she ends up being the second person turned. 

When she comes back, she manages to get Riri on the dance floor, laughing, having a good time--and she steals riri away again, mirroring the prev scene, but when she tries to turn Riri, she’s repelled bc of the mojo bag Riri was wearing--Riri notes and manages to scramble away, locking her in the room [she breaks out later]

Anyways vampires encroach and turn a lot of people. Riri has another face off with Shuri and we don’t see how it ends, but we assume she kills her and Xavier facesoff with the main vampire dude/ the sun comes, etc etc etc. 

It’s revealed that Riri didn’t turn Shuri--telling her to stay away from xavier. 

Instead after Riri pops the wizard gang ofc, she’s bleeding out and all and Shuri arrives again, cradling her, holding her close, and Riri decides to let herself be turned. Why? She doesn’t want to be alone again--she doesn’t think she’ll see heaven noways bc of her hand in Natalie ultimately dying--her wanting some semblance of freedom, her dream to finally get a chance to fly in her lifetime, etc etc the end.

[freshbakedbreadstick]

No. 1 Party Anthem - Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader - Chapter Six

Past!Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Carmy Berzatto x F!Platonic!Reader

Richie Jerimovich x F!Platonic!Reader

Summary: The human mind is a very scary thing.

Warnings:  All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. Heavy spoilers. Mentions of death, funerals, grief, angst, strained relationships, minor injuries, arguments/yelling matches, details of anxiety/panic attacks, bad coping mechanisms, mental health issues, running away, addiction, interventions, al-anon. Depiction of a gun and implication of suicide in a portion, not graphic but heavily implied/hinted at during a possibly distressing nightmare sequence.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: A little late bc i just moved into my dorm for the year <3 its been quite the adjustment so i took a bit of time to myself to just relax and get used to things ! ! ! Anyways today was my first day of class and it went SO GOOD ! ! ! ! Im so excited for the semester and the school year in general ily all sm have a slay day besties ! Also this is just angst again im sorry i swear it will get better at some point but probably not nowwwww 😭

Taglist: @marysucks-blog @shinebright2000 @jadeittic @eternallyvenus (MWAH <3 )

Masterlist

You stood in the back of the room, leaning against the wall and wearing some sunglasses you dug out from your bag. Your arms were crossed and your face was neutral but, behind those dark frames you wore, your eyes darted back and forth between each person who sat in the chairs around the circle and to Amanda, the leader of this Al-Anon meeting. 

Some were at ease, sharing freely and even throwing jokes in between their talks, while others sat stiffly and managed to get up on their shaky legs and share their own narratives. 

But somehow, none of them judged one another. 

Beside you stood your mom, gripping her purse straps so tightly that you could see the straps bending in her grip. She tapped her foot softly on the linoleum, smiling empathetically to each person and applauding politely when needed. But every once in a while, she would glance over at you and look away quickly, shoulder slumping and smile fading. 

Your lips formed a line as you continued to look as neutral as possible, staring as the meeting started to get wrapped up. Amanda spoke to everyone, clasping her hands together before waving everyone off with a soft smile. 

Everyone got up from their chairs, some joining one another to talk while others moved toward the door a couple feet away from you. They passed by you, most not really turning to you while a couple politely nodded and left. 

But as the room started to get emptier and emptier, that scared-nauseous feeling came back in full force when your mother put a hand on your forearm and looked over at Amanda. 

“You know, Natalie was the one who recommended me to take you to some Al-Anon meetings… but it was Carmy who told me to take you to one after you ran out…”

You glanced over at your mom, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Why?”

Your question was both a rhetorical and actual one. Part of you was confused as to why Carmy was the one who spoke to your mom about the argument at The Beef earlier. Carmy was the person who didn’t bother to show up to Mikey’s funeral and refused to reach out to those who tried to contact him, so why would he even bother to care about you facing your own feelings about this situation?

But another part of you was touched. 

Carmy was the kid brother who would follow you and Natalie around when you were in middle school. When you were in high school and started to date Mikey, Carmy was the kid that you would playfully bother when Mikey wasn’t giving you attention. As an adult, Carmy was your sense of peace whenever he was around, providing you with a much needed distraction during Berzatto family gatherings when he would finally open up (after much pestering on your part) about his own life away from Chicago. And while it seemed like that sense of peace was gone as he got farther and farther away from everyone, this news made you realize that it had never left. 

He still wanted to give you that peace you desperately needed when it came to his family. 

Your mom turned to look at you and gently reached up to take your sunglasses off. She looked into your eyes, seeing the way the bags under your eyes looked darker while you both stood in the corner of the room. 

With a heavy sigh, she responded, “Carmy told me that he had just started to attend some meetings himself. Natalie told him over and over to go to some but he… he hadn’t gone until now. And when he heard the news that you came back, he jumped to tell me about taking you. Especially when he saw your erratic behavior, he knew you wouldn’t go unless we were the ones who took you.”

You looked away, arms falling to your sides. 

“Please give it a try, please… you know that Mikey wouldn’t want you stressed out like this…”

Your chest tightened, “I… I don’t know what Mikey would’ve wanted anymore.”

Amanda called your name as she began walking over to you, making you quickly rub your eyes and look at her, “Hey you two, how are you feeling about possibly coming to a session?”

You shrugged and looked to the floor, “I’ll have to think about it but… I might.”

Amanda smiled and nodded, “I know this is a huge first step and I understand that you need time to think about it. Our next session will be in two days, you're free to join us if you would like to. And, you're free to bring someone for support.”

You nodded and glanced at your mom, seeing her smile at you from the corner of your eye. 

You soon found yourself back in your car, packed haphazardly full of your stuff, and looking out of the passenger’s seat window. 

You leaned your head onto the glass as your eyes looked out the window at the way the sky started to turn from blue to orange. By the time you got home, the sky was filled up with colors similar to the ones you saw while sitting on the hood of your car all those months ago. 

The car slowly pulled into the driveway and standing on the sidewalk, with his hands in his pocket, was your dad. He waved and smiled sadly, making you sigh and look away. You could feel the way your cheeks began to burn and your chest tightened. 

Silently, he approached the car and opened the trunk. You passed by him, watching him begin to start to unpack the trunk that held the boxes of your life, one by one. 

The three of you, in silence, emptied the entirety of your car. Any of the boxes and other belongings you had previously kept there were now placed in your room, each getting a designated spot and most getting unpacked completely. 

The way that everything just seemed to fall into place in your own childhood bedroom made you shiver and walk away as your parents continued organizing. 

In the dark hallway, you paced. Your fingers busied themselves with picking the skin of your bottom lip, leaving it raw and sting whenever your tongue ran over it. It wasn’t until your parents came back out that you managed to get yourself to pause, ignoring the way it stung.

Your mom smiled sympathetically and passed you, placing her arm comfortingly on your shoulder. You dad though, he paused and let your mom get downstairs and away from the two of you before he spoke up, “Some habits are hard to break, I know that, but staying here for a while will be good for you, okay honey? I love you so much, we all do, and we want you to stay.” 

Your eyes stung a bit, making you flutter your eyelids to stop any tears from forming, “Okay… I think… okay.”

Your dad wrapped his arms around you and hugged you. His arms squeezed around you, tight, as if you were going to fall into pieces if he didn’t hold onto you hard enough. You winced and he did so, but let him hold onto you. 

“Your my little girl and I would,” He began to speak again, pausing as his voice cracked to clear his throat before continuing, “Your mother and I would never be the same if anything happened to you. We love you so much.”

“Love you too, Dad.” 

As you watched him go down the dark hallway and down the stairs, you felt your lips sting as you began to taste a salty wetness. The decision was done: you would stay here for however long it took to heal and would attend the Al-Anon meetings in the meantime.

Now that this major decision was made, it was time for another. 

“Time to fix my fuck up,” you mumbled to yourself.

Later that night, after you had dinner and began to unwind for the night, you went over and sat on your bed. After washing the day’s bad choices and tears down the drain, you had changed into something comfortable for bed. You hummed, feeling satisfied with the soft clothes you wore that you completely forgot you even had, thankfully your parents’ unpacking and organizing allowed you to find them easily and happily. 

With an exhausted groan, your back hit the plush mattress. You bounced softly for a second before wiggling around to get comfortable before pulling the blankets onto your body. With a glance to the ceiling, you began to think.

You had messed up majorly with Carmy, Sugar, and Richie; well, with the entirety of The Beef. You knew that you definitely needed to apologize and try to make things right, especially considering that you would be staying here now and could run into them. You might be the type of person to flee in the face of trouble, but you knew that not apologizing would sour your relationship with them even more than it already is. 

And while it was a bit overwhelming to be around them now, you did miss them. 

Showing up and just apologizing en masse made you cringe a little. You knew that Carmy probably wouldn’t receive that well, he was stubborn and held onto anger so this wouldn’t just be an easy thing to forgive for him. Richie would be a bit hesitant to show vulnerability in front of everyone so the tough and funny guy act would be brought up, and that wouldn’t feel like you properly apologized to him. And Sugar… she would take your apology in a heartbeat but… you didn’t want her to. She was tough when she wanted to be but was always too kind with you. You didn’t just want this to be a forgive and forget moment for her, you wanted her to be upset with you and let you work on gaining her forgiveness.

“I can’t let her be a doormat…” you whispered to yourself. 

But while you laid there, on the soft mattress of your childhood bedroom, the cocoon of blankets and fresh air that made it perfect to get all snuggled up started to work against you. The warm plushness made your thoughts get blurrier and your eyes droop and while your breathing got deeper and deeper, your body gave in to sleep. 

You narrowed your eyes at the orange sun, letting yourself blink until your eyes got adjusted to the room. You then looked around and gasped when you realized where you were. 

You were back in the kitchen of the place you and Mikey lived in together. The bright setting sun had come from the giant window of the kitchen, the window that overlooked the streets and had a view of the city, the exact window that made you and Mikey decide to rent this place in the first place. 

Everything looked and felt hazey, half drowned in the warm yellow lighting of the sun. As you looked down at your hands, you saw them also overlaid with the sun, feeling warm and looking… healthy. 

Someone started humming behind you, voice deep. You whipped your head around to see who it was and was faced with the back of a tall, broad man. 

He wore a black shirt that stretched over his muscular body. As your eyes wandered up his form, you noticed the attractive and slightly messy dark hair that was on his head.

“Baby?”

Your heart stopped. 

You began to stumble backward, gasping giant gulps of air as your eyes zeroed in on the man in front of you. Slowly, he began to turn around, and give you a good look of himself.

His dark brown eyes focused on you. His eyebrows creased together as he watched you reel back, almost falling to the floor.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

You let out a strangled cry as he began to move forward, reaching his toned arm out to grab you. You froze, eyes trained on his large hand as it came closer and closer to your skin. You squeezed them shut, terrified. 

His hand felt warm as it gently wrapped around your own. 

You felt yourself being gently guided up and forward. The hand then let go of you and an arm wrapped around your body, resting the hand against the small of your back. Another hand wrapped around you on the opposite side and you were pulled close against a broad chest. 

You could feel the way his relaxed heart was beating, unlike your own racing one.

“Mikey…” you whispered in a broken breath, eyes still clamped shut. 

Your entire body was stiff as a board as you stood there, but it began to betray you and give in to the person in front of you.

“Look at me baby,” The voice said, rumbling but calm.

With a sharp inhale, you began to blink your eyes open. You looked at the face in front of you, your own eyes connecting to those dark eyes you missed so much.

“Mikey… is it really you?”

You felt a deep rumble in his chest, followed by the twinkling of his laugh. He threw his head back, letting his unruly hair flutter as he moved. 

“Yes baby, it’s me. Who the hell else would it be?” He smiled at you, letting his eyes half lid as he looked at you. 

“But… but you…” you began, but were quickly interrupted. 

“Come here babydoll, come try this for me.”

He moved away from you and ushered you forward with one arm, but regardless, you had no choice as the other arm that was still wrapped around your waist pulled you close into his side. Your body slotted against him, as if the missing piece to his puzzle. 

You watched as Mikey dipped a finger into the giant pot of sauce that was bubbling on the stove and you slowly began to smell the scent of roasted garlic and fresh basil, straight from the pot you had growing on the windowsill. 

He gently blew on his finger as steam rose from the sauce, he slowly brought it up to your lips, pausing just before he would touch them to look at you in the eyes again. 

“Go on baby, try it and tell me what you think.”

You gulped and parted your lips. Leaning forward, your mouth encased his finger. As your tongue hit the sauce, your eyes shot wide open.

A multitude of flavors exploded in your mouth, all so familiar. That made your knees buckle. 

With a laugh, Mikey caught you before you went down, taking his finger from your mouth and wrapping both arms around you again. He carefully lifted you up and placed you on the empty kitchen island to sit.

“Was it that good? How come you don’t react like that every other time I make it, hmm?” Teasingly, he smirked at you and turned away to wash his hands.

But all you could do was sit there, stone cold, and in shock. No matter how many times you swallowed, the taste of fresh sauce with a ton of garlic, basil, and San Marzano tomatoes would still linger on your tongue. A sauce that Mikey would make, claiming to be a recipe that only he could make perfectly, for family spaghetti night. 

His voice interrupted your thoughts, bringing you back to where you sat, “Do you think it needs anything? I wanna make sure it’s perfect before Carmy, Sugar, and Richie get here.”

You coughed and shook your head rapidly, unsure what to do but along with it, “Yea it’s, it’s perfect, my love.”

You paused, eyes wide again. A slip of the tongue. You hadn’t said “my love” for such a long time that it felt foreign coming from your mouth, despite it being a nickname you commonly used for Mikey.

But Mikey either didn’t seem to notice or didn’t seem to care when you said that. He just beamed and turned back around to stir the pot for a second. 

As you gathered yourself on that counter, you looked around again. Everything was… everything was exactly like how you left it. The pots and pans were in their usual spots, the curtains were drawn just the way you liked them, and every framed photo in the house showed you and Mikey, grinning and holding onto one another. 

You were home. 

But you knew you weren’t supposed to be here.

“Give me a second babydoll, i’ll be right back.”

Your head whipped around to look at Mikey as he stood in front of you. He smiled and reached over, kissing your temple, before walking off in the direction of the bathroom with a hand in his pocket. 

Once he disappeared, you immediately threw yourself off the kitchen island. 

Your hands immediately went to the back of your neck, holding onto it as your eyes raced over everything. 

“What the fuck am i doing here?!”

Everything around you was perfectly in place, as if untouched by time.

The world around you spun as you threw your body around, desperately trying to find something that would prove that something was wrong. But alas, everything seemed okay. 

You were too terrified to open any drawers or touch anything, so all you could do was hyperventilate and turn around over and over and over, scanning the walls to see the photographs you knew you buried under boxes and decorations you tried but failed to throw out.

Suddenly a phone began to ring. 

You froze.

There was no phone in the kitchen, nor the living room, or anywhere else in the house. But there was a phone whose ringing sounded exactly like this one’s; the phone in your parent’s house. 

It was an analog, rotary style phone that rested on a table in the hallway of your parent’s house. This hallway led the front door to the living room and had picture frames of you and your family throughout the years. Next to the table with this phone was a small, single sofa chair/

A chill went down your spine as tears began to sting your eyes.

This was the phone you found out about Mikey’s death. And that chair was the one you collapsed on before screaming.

The ringing stopped. Then, Mikey’s voice echoed from the other room, calling you. 

Hesitantly, you turned to the direction you heard his voice. 

He called your name again, but this time, he beckoned you over.

“Come here for a second baby!”

You stared at the empty doorway where you watched him leave. From that direction, his voice called your name out again. 

As your foot slowly inched forward, you held your breath. 

“I just need you real quick, come over here!”

Your footsteps were silent as you stepped forward, closer to the sound of his voice and to the doorway that led from your kitchen and dining room to the hall. 

His voice got louder and louder as you slowly rounded the doorway, continuing to call you.

Down the hall and in front of you was the bathroom door, wide open. There stood Mikey, back towards you, standing in the dimly lit hallway and dark bathroom.

Now, he was silent and still. 

With a quiet and shaky voice, you managed to whisper out, “Mikey?”

You heard a click coming from him, coming from his hand. When you looked down, you saw metal.

“I'm sorry babydoll.”

Your body jerked up with a strangled cry. You ripped the blankets from your body and threw yourself out of bed, falling straight to the floor with a loud thud. 

Your knees ached and your palms did too as you hit the floor, but you didn’t care. In that moment, all you could think about was what you saw. All you could think about was the shine of the metal.

As a loud cry escaped your shaking body, your door swung open to reveal your alarmed parents. They called your name, rushing forward to hold you as you sobbed and screamed only for their alarmed questions weren’t heard as you continued to see the glint of the metal, despite it not being there.