#North Third Street Mission

[nycreligion]

The evangelicals in 19th Century Williamsburg and Greenpoint. A Journey Retro

The evangelicals in 19th Century Williamsburg and Greenpoint. A Journey Retro

Williamsburgh, 1834. Illustration from Eugene L. Armbruster’s Photographs & Scrapbooks. Source: Brooklyn Historical Society. The faith-flavored identity of New York City was decided on the frontiers of social controversy in religious places like the evangelical Protestant churches of Williamsburg and Greenpoint. Early settlers in the area held private Sunday services in their homes or took a…

[skzhocomments]

Mafia Book #2 - PART I - The Black Iris - Chapter 1 - Breathe in and jump

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

General masterlist

Chapter 1 (current chapter) - Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 2

---

PART I - THE BLACK IRIS

Chapter 1 - Breathe in and jump

chapter word count: 4.2k words

~Third person POV~

"Yo! Are you back already? Our Yongbok is doing so well!" Minho smiled sweetly, seeing Hyunjin and Felix open the kitchen door.

"Yea, he's doing amazing." Hyunjin praised. "He still has to take it easy, but..."

"I'm alright." Felix intervened. "It's already been a year; I can move and breathe normally now."

"That's great to hear, Lix. Soon enough you're gonna join on missions again." Lee Know poured some coffee in a mug and handed it over to Felix.

"I'm thrilled." Felix joked, grabbing the mug. He hesitated a bit before asking something that's been on his mind the whole day, taking a sip of his drink instead: "So... Did you see him today?"

"Who, Chris? I did, yea."

"Mhm. How is he doing...?"

"... Stick up his butt like usual." Minho replied sombrely. "He looks like he hasn't slept in 2 weeks, and he probably hasn't."

"Fuck." Hyunjin cursed under his breath. "I don't even know what to say... I love him, but he needs therapy... like yesterday."

"Who needs therapy?" Chris entered the big kitchen and nonchalantly walked towards the fridge, grabbing a cold water bottle.

"Boss?! I meant-"

"I don't need anything, Hyunjin. I'm perfectly fine." The leader replied coldly.

He's been like that ever since he cast away the love of his life, Emilia.

He simply couldn't forgive himself for his stupid actions that brought her death one year ago, so he did what he knew best: he let his soul die as well, with her, and he focused solely on Stray Kids.

He became the most heartless Mafia leader there was, not caring about anything else but building his empire to be able to protect the only people he cared about.

He killed, killed, and killed anyone and anything mercilessly, unable to feel even the slightest bit of remorse.

He would do so with a straight face, for his soul was as vacant as an empty shell.

The members knew this all too well, but no matter what they would say or do, it wouldn't matter. The Chan they all knew and loved was too far gone, only a ruthless monster that swore to protect them left in his place.

Therefore, it's safe to say that Stray Kids' House was no longer the happy place filled with laughter it once was. A gloomy energy hung around in the air, and there was an especially uncomfortable tension between the oldest – Chris – and the youngest member – Jeongin. None of them wanted to address it, though, so they let themselves grow distant and turned a blind eye to the other's suffering.

With Chris being so unavailable emotionally, it all fell on Minho to pick up the pieces. After all, he was the next in command when it came to their Mafia.

He would go ever so often in the leader's place to represent the Mafia, especially internationally, since he took over the gun trade business with Momo after Hyo's passing.

~

As Minho found himself once again leaving the house in the middle of the night, he pulled out a cigarette from his pack – the second one he bought today – and headed towards nowhere in particular.

The night's breeze felt cold against his cheeks, as he leisurely walked around the empty streets of the city. He used these calm moments to contemplate on why everything fell apart so horribly.

Well, not everything. Their mafia was more prosperous than ever. The Empire Chan's father built - the North Side, as it used to be called – was only a little kid compared to the territory Stray Kids managed to take over in the past year. It was quite scary, frankly, what Chan was capable of when he dedicated his whole energy towards something.

However, everything comes at a price. To welcome this new change, all of them – Chan, more than anyone else – changed drastically.

How could losing one girl affect him so much, Minho wondered?

It was dumb to be so blinded by love.

Love, what even is that? Minho asked himself and continued walking on the icy streets.

Sure, he understood the concept of it. He thought what he felt for his members could probably be described as love; he cried seeing Felix almost dead last year, and his heart burned with Chris' from the loss of his Shade. But could love screw you up so badly to make you become an entirely different person once you lose it?

Well, that wasn't exactly true, and Minho knew it all too well, for Chan didn't only lose the love of his life; he was also betrayed by someone he thought to be a little sister he held precious. And worst of all, he blamed himself for everything that happened.

Guiltiness is one of the harshest feelings that can weigh down on you, and both Chris and Minho felt it stronger each day, for each of them held part of the blame.

Chan – for everything he did wrong one year ago, and Minho – for allowing himself to be played like a violin by Hyo and turn Chan against Emilia, who did nothing wrong but put her trust in the people she considered friends.

Thus, Minho couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible for the downfall of his leader's life.

What could he do differently to make Chris be his old self, or at least a fraction of his old self? Or actually – was there even anything he could do?

~

It was one of these nights that Minho found something in particular that caught his eye. Or rather – someone.

He was once again out walking aimlessly in the middle of the night when he decided to cross one of the many bridges over the river.

After half the distance and reluctantly remembering that he has a busy day tomorrow, he pressed his back on the railing and lit up a cigarette.

Inhaling the smoke and relaxing, he allowed himself to stop thinking of everything that went wrong for a moment. Or at least try to.

That's when he spotted her, on the other side, smoking a cigarette herself.

She was dressed elegantly, in an all-black pencil skirt stopping right above her knees and a dark blazer, topped with a delicious pair of red bottoms black high heels.

Definitely my type, Minho thought, admiring the sight.

He was a man, after all.

Just seeing her felt entertaining enough for the 5 minutes long cigarette break he took, so when he was done, he threw it on the ground, stomping it with his foot, and forgot all about the girl with the pretty silhouette and slutty high heels.

~

A month or so later, the night brought him to the bridge again, his back supported by the same railing. It was an unorthodox hour, just like last time, and there she was, lighting up a cigarette.

This time, though, she was dressed more casually: black trousers and the same elegant blazer, no high heels, a pair of black loafers hugging her feet instead.

The same perfect silhouette prompted Minho to watch her from the other side once again, taking note of her late-night activities. She would chain smoke her cigarettes, no breaks in-between, and she would sometimes shift her weight from one leg to the other. Her elbows were promptly supporting her on the bridge's railing.

He couldn't see her face, for she was looking far in the horizon, her back turned to him, but Minho already thought she was beautiful, just for the way she was carrying herself. That's something you observe after being in his line of work for a while. There's a lot you can tell about someone from their mannerisms, from how straight they keep their back and from how high they hold their head.

After admiring her for a while, he decided to let her be and left to his business, taking note of the time on his watch. He had more important things to do than watch a random woman smoke.

What was she doing there, anyway?

It was too late for a woman to be alone there, in the middle of a random bridge. The thought that she was a hooker passed Minho's mind, but he quickly realised that it wasn't the case, as he kept returning to the same spot again and again and seeing her religiously follow the same ritual: cigarette after cigarette, shifting her weight from the left leg to the right and back every 15 minutes or so, and looking far away in the horizon, as if lost in thought.

Soon enough, he started to become curious. Who was she, and why was she there every night?

He knew it was stupid to wonder, especially since he did the same thing as her, coming there every night for no particular reason, but still, he couldn't understand why she kept going to the bridge just to smoke and look at the pitch black in front of her, for he was sure she wasn't able to see anything, and the water was too far down to be able to even hear it that well.

~

He's been watching the girl in secrecy for some time now. After all, it would've been hard to explain to the members that he was basically stalking someone he doesn't even know the face of yet, so he just kept it to himself.

Observing her so closely for the past month, though, made him sure that he would be able to tell her apart from a crowd any time with ease.

That night, as usual, he headed towards his spot on the bridge and started watching the girl. She was sporting the same tight black pencil skirt and high heels like the first night he's seen her.

One cigarette, two, three, and then her lighter seemed to stop working. She hectically shook it in all directions, but she wasn't able to get it to flame again.

Seemingly defeated, she turned around for the first time since Minho started coming to the bridge, and angrily threw the lighter, smashing it in the process, cigarette still in mouth. Her lips were full and stained deep red, and her teeth – for she was holding the cigarette with her teeth, not with her lips – were perfectly white.

Her expression, though, stayed neutral, despite her harsh actions of smashing the lighter to pieces, and she pressed her back on the railing and let herself fall down to the ground in defeat. That's when she spotted Minho for the first time, something catching her eye: his lit-up cigarette.

She locked eyes with him and smirked, and God, was she beautiful.

Minho's head rang with a quote he once heard in a stupid TV show Felix made him watch – American Horror Story, or something like that. The quote went like this: The Devil is real, and he's not a little red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful, because he's a fallen angel, and he used to be God's favourite.

Watching the girl look in his eyes with so much determination, he couldn't help but think that she must've been the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. She was expressive and seemed tough, and the smirk tugging at her lips told Minho she has definitely been God's favourite at some point, even if she seemed far from that now.

Just like the Devil. Minho smiled, lazily making his way across, taking out his lighter. When he reached her, he placed the flame in front of her mouth, waiting until her cigarette was lit as well.

"Thank you." She nodded. Even her voice sounded beautiful to his ears.

"Don't mention it." He put the lighter back in his pocket and contemplated joining her on the ground for a brief moment, but he considered that this would only bring bad luck, that there was no point in getting acquainted with her, despite his profound curiosity.

So, he just turned around and left, before hearing her voice once more.

"Name?"

He stopped dead in his tracks. Who asks someone for their name that way?

"Why? Curious?" he faced her again. She was still nonchalantly sitting on the ground, smoking her cigarette, and looking somewhere far away in the distance, not even a glance Minho's way.

"Honestly? Not really, no."

Well, this is getting interesting.

"Then why would you ask?"

"To pass time, obviously. We are the only 2 people crazy enough to be here at this hour."

"Crazy? I'd say we are the only two sane enough people to be here, doll." Minho replied, seeing the woman stand up and patting her skirt clean.

"That's certainly one way to put it. So, you're a "the glass is half empty" type, hm?" She smiled, still looking far away. "A bit pessimistic."

"Who knows? I always thought of myself as a realist."

"Yea? Are you such an objective person?" she smiled, finally turning her eyes at him, placing a hand in front of her, gesturing with her fingers to signal that she wanted something from the man. "Care to share that with me again, doll?" she signalled to Minho's pockets.

He scoffed, taking the lighter out and giving it to her. "Another one already? You're gonna get lung cancer and die in 2 years max if you keep it up."

"What is it, do you mean to say you care about what happens to me? Don't make me laugh." She chuckled slightly, lighting her cigarette on fire and inhaling the toxic smoke.

"Might as well keep it. It's Minho."

"Cute." She smirked. "And thanks for the present. I shall put it to good use and value it greatly, Minho." She winked.

"What's yours?"

"This lighter, obviously." She chuckled, playing a bit with Minho's patience.

"Your name, doll. That's what I want to know." He was growing impatient, and she noticed.

"Why? Curious?" She grinned, repeating the question he asked her just minutes ago.

Minho clicked his tongue, making her let out a small chuckle, as if she had won the little game they were playing.

"I'm Iris."

What a nice name. Fitting.

And the fact that she has such a prideful attitude only makes it better. Minho thought, smiling cunningly.

I should go, shouldn't I? he thought further, trying to convince himself to not spend any minute longer with this woman. She was addictive, somehow, and he certainly didn't want to end up in any disadvantageous situation.

"So, doll, why are you here at 3 AM on a Monday? Can't sleep, or are you running away from your problems?" she eyed him from under her eyelashes and smirked.

"You know my name now, don't you?" Minho took a threatening step towards her, a mischievous grin on his lips as well.

"Just giving you the same treatment you gave me, that's all." She shrugged, staying still.

"I just couldn't sleep. You?"

"Oh, so a man with too much on his mind, but somehow a realist! Sounds like trouble if you ask me." She looked once again in the horizon, before continuing. "I'm also way too troubled to sleep."

"So you prefer to come up here and fuck up your health?" Minho chuckled, pointing at her cigarette again.

"Look who's talking." She rolled her eyes annoyed.

She didn't need any bastard to tell her what is good for her, but there he was, doing it again. It was even worse that he was such a hypocrite. Wasn't he also smoking a few minutes ago?

"And that short skirt you're flaunting? Looks stunning, but will attract all the wrong attention during the night."

"What, do you want to fuck me?" she asked plainly.

"Why, are you that readily available?"

She scoffed at him and repositioned herself to face him properly, before bringing her body directly in front of his.

Faced mere inches apart, she mouthed a "Never.", then went around the man and left him there, staring at her.

She was a strange woman, just perfect for a strange man.

~

The next time Minho visited the bridge almost two weeks later, she was there, just as usual: her back turned against the road, her eyes facing the dark abyss over the bridge.

However, she did something oddinary: she turned around and glanced directly into Minho's eyes, as if she was expecting him to show up, to be there.

And then she waved her hand playfully with a big grin on her lips, expecting a wave in return, which he was quick to give. It was like she was tugging at the strings controlling his body, like a puppet master. She knew how to get him to make the gestures or expressions she wanted him to make, even when they were so far away from each other.

Many nights like this followed, where both would wave at the other, as if exchanging pleasantries, none of them willing to take a single step forward.

She was far too prideful for that, and she still had a bitter taste in her mouth from their last interaction. Admiring him from the other side was enough for her. He was really beautiful, a sight to look at, but his mouth was far too rotten for her liking. Besides, he seemed like bad news, all the alarm bells ringing in her head as soon as he handed her his lighter telling her this. He seemed dangerous even across the bridge from her. It felt like she wasn't far enough, and she knew she shouldn't mingle with him.

He was simply cautious. He was already obsessed enough with wanting to know who she was, what she did for a living, why she came here, how well she'd manage to keep her balance on those high heels bent over his desk – just thoughts like that. And as much as he wanted to find out, to make those thoughts a reality, he knew it wouldn't be wise to do so.

He was in a Mafia, for fuck's sake. He couldn't play the role of pretty boyfriend and take her out on dates during the day, while he mercilessly killed people during the night.

Just watching her is enough. He would keep telling himself.

I will stay away.

So why couldn't he just stay away and watch as one massive dude grabbed her by the wrist and turned her around, trying to overpower her?

It was like his body reacted without him realising, as he crossed over with heavy steps towards her.

However, she didn't seem to need him at all at first. She managed to free her arm from the man's grip and land a punch in his crotch, swearing at him like a sailor, and when he tried to throw a punch himself, she managed to avoid it with ease.

Her technique was messy, but luckily for her, the attacker was as skilled as a pig when it came to fighting.

Watching everything unfold in front of his eyes, Minho couldn't help but let out the biggest grin. How many more surprises did this girl have in store for him?

When the big guy raised his hand once more in the air to attempt to hit Iris, Minho pulled his hand back and tackled him to the ground, stepping on his neck with all his weight.

"Yah, I think I stepped on a big pile of shit by mistake. My shoe's all dirty now. Will you pay for this?" he asked mockingly, looking at Iris.

"Argh, I'm sorry dude, I get it! I'll leave her alone! Please get off!" The guy tried to ration, but Minho was having none of it. He pressed on his neck with even more force, making the guy choke.

After a few agonising seconds, he stepped away from the guy, allowing him to breathe, before sending a powerful kick his way.

"Go crawl wherever you came from, you cockroach." Minho said coldly, watching the guy barely get up from the ground and run away for his life.

Iris observed all of this with a neutral expression on her face. She seemed unphased by Minho's actions, and if she were true to herself, she even felt a bit of appreciation. She'd never let him know that, though.

"You're welcome." He said with a mischievous grin.

"I didn't ask you for your help." She replied, shrugging.

"You didn't, but I certainly helped, didn't I?"

"I guess so." She shrugged again. "Good to see you on this side, by the way."

"Yeah, good to be here." He shrugged this time. "Where did you learn to fight that way?"

"Why, you impressed?"

"Tsch." He tongued his cheek. "Not at all. Your skills are a mess. You could use some help polishing them."

"What, doll, do you want to teach me?" she asked in a low voice and came near him, face mere inches apart. She knew she should've backed away instead. She should've run, and never returned to this bridge again, for she knew he was danger.

"I could, if you'd want me to." He raised a threatening eyebrow.

"I don't think so." Her bright smile didn't reach her eyes, but that didn't bother Minho in the slightest. He loved playing this game with her.

"I bet I could help, though. Look, if you throw a punch with your little finger's metacarpal bone, you'll break it. It's the weakest one in your hand. You should hit with your index finger's bone first." He pointed towards his hand and showed her the proper way she should clench her fist before a fight.

"You seem quite knowledgeable on the subject." She came in front of him, face mere inches apart, similar to that night a few weeks ago. It seems her resolve to stay away was not strong enough.

Minho's breath hitched in his throat, but he didn't want to show her the effect she could have on him. Instead, he appeared composed as he slipped a hand around her waist and pulled her body into his.

He expected this action to startle her, so he was most surprised when she was the one to grab his collar and close the gap between their lips.

Her tongue rolled on his top lip as her hands moved from the collar of his shirt to his nape, her fingernails drawing small circles on it.

Minho opened his mouth and allowed their tongues to start a war against the other, and feeling her hands so delicate on the back of his neck, he couldn't help but let out a small moan in her mouth, making her smirk.

She tasted sweet. Too damn sweet.

As if she got what she wanted, she pulled away and admired Minho's fucked up beautiful face, stains of her red lipstick everywhere on his wet mouth.

He watched her in awe, mesmerised by her completely. What happened next came naturally for him, as the sexual tension was almost palpable. His hands found the back of her waist again, pulling her closer once more. They were quick to move from her waist under her blouse, fingers gently grazing the soft skin on her abdomen – moment when she pushed him away.

A tint of fear on her face disappeared as quickly as it came, a small grin showing up instead.

She chuckled a bit, before slapping his shoulder playfully two times and starting to walk away.

"That's it?" Minho asked, watching her elegant figure getting further away from him.

"I got something back for myself, so I'm done for the night. Thanks for the fighting technique lesson, by the way. Bye-bye!" she waved casually, continuing to walk.

What was on her mind?

Minho couldn't tell. He also couldn't convince himself to pursue her, give up on his pride and ask for her number. After all, why would he? She would most certainly be there the following night, as she did the past three months.

-

-

-

Except she wasn't.

Minho kept coming back, but she wasn't anywhere to be seen. It seems she left him high and dry. This certainly hasn't happened before.

How dare she?

~

Disappointed in his lack of entertainment the past nights, he had to leave for a mission that would keep him far away from the city for a few weeks – far away from the bridge.

When he returned, it was the first night in almost two months that he saw her again. She wasn't dressed in her usual dark blazer, nor did she wear heels or loafers as she usually would. She had big black trousers and a black hoodie on, but he still recognised her instantly, even with her back facing him, proving his hypothesis that he would've definitely known who she was just from the way she carries herself, from her straight back and perfect posture, and from the confident aura she emanates.

He resumed his position on the other side of the bridge and simply watched her, as he used to do before he put a name to her pretty face.

Iris.

After being away from her for so long, he wasn't even sure if their kiss happened or if he just dreamt it in one of his many wet dreams where she squirmed under him and moaned his name over and over with that sweet voice of hers.

He started counting how many cigarettes she lit up ever since he got here, and after the fifth in a row, she started taking off her shoes – some black sneakers to complete her cosy look tonight – and felt the concrete with her bare feet. After a few more puffs, she threw the still lit, unfinished cigarette on the ground and used her arms to raise herself above the railing.

She stood barefoot on the top of the railing and looked down to the abyss. Too dark to see anything, too far away from the water below, falling from here would be suicide.

Coincidentally, exactly what she wanted.

This is it. She thought. It will finally end. Just one more step.

She breathed in anxiously a couple of times, her chest rising up and down rapidly, and after a few moments of gathering her courage, deep breaths in her lungs, she jumped.

---

Chapter 2

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting invites four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this epilogue, Giles finds her way home.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Touledy's Epilogue. Erridge's Epilogue. End. Words: 2,393. Rating: all audiences.)

Epilogue: Giles

Inquisition troops marched through field and farmland, nothing more than a movement north, bound for the Waking Sea and Free Marches beyond.

That was the story Jader had been told; that was the story Jader had believed. With the assent of its rulers, such movement was permitted. They had no idea that, amongst those simple-looking soldiers, the missing daughter of Samient walked.

The site of her ‘disappearance’ would have been discovered, by now. The Duke’s guard would be crawling all over it, like so many ants upon a fresh carcass. The Inquisition would be all apology, offering whatever help they could—but the blame would ultimately lie with her father. He hadn’t sent her with a guard, the other nobles would say. What could he expect?

Giles felt the guilt of it strongly. Every step she took, she questioned whether this was the right path. But she reminded herself, of what waited at its end. This would be worth it.

“Almost there,” Loranil told her. “If the others have already arrived, then we’ll be meeting at the docks. All right?”

Giles nodded. “Thank you,” she replied. “Thank you for doing this.”

Loranil smiled. “Not the sort of mission I expected when I joined the Inquisition—but I don’t mind it. I think it’s more pleasant than most of the soldiers have had, anyway.”

That much was true. They’d exchanged stories with Giles on their way, usually whilst bedding down for the night. She only believed half of them. No way had Troubridge fought a giant and lived to tell the tale, let alone done so without being raised in rank!

Though it did put her own situation in comparison. There had been no giant-killing on their journey, thank the Maker. In fact, their greatest danger was this. Jader. The last of Orlais she would see, the most likely place for her to be recognised. Best keep the helmet on tight.

But it served its purpose well enough. They walked the streets of the city with no resistance. Guards nodded them through, residents stopped to watch them walk by. A child stared with such wonder, it was as if the Inquisitor was the one striding past instead.

And thus, unhindered, they made it to the docks—a bustling shipyard, adorned with grand vessels, ready to sail the Waking Sea. The abundance of Orlesian heard throughout the city melted away, and left instead was a mixture of tongues, flying between sailors of varying origin.

With a quiet word of confirmation to the dockmaster, the Captain of Giles’ retinue led them where they needed to go. A ship, moored on the third dock to the right. That was where the other Inquisition had gathered.

Giles’ heart pounded against her chest. They rounded a corner, saw a group of soldiers scattered across crates and barrels, leaning and sitting and talking and relaxing. She halted in her tracks. Her eyes scanned the face of each and every single one. Until—

All went quiet. A soldier stood.

“Giles?”

He took the helm from his head, and revealed the man beneath. Vichy. Her Vichy.

She had feared this moment greatly. That the war might’ve changed him, that he might be beyond recognition. But every fear fell away, when she saw him.

It was the smiling face she knew; the deep brown skin and muscled arms; the same rich black hair—though his curls and coils had been cut shorter than she recalled. It didn’t matter. It was him.

“Vichy,” she breathed.

Her feet took off running before she had even realised it. He was ready for her, arms open. She collided with him, embrace so powerful that her helm was knocked from her head, to skitter across the ground.

It didn’t matter. It was him.

“I’m so sorry,” she wept, clutching him tighter than she ever had before. “This was my fault.”

“Don’t you worry,” he whispered, “it’s my fault, really.”

“How? How could any of this be your fault?”

“Well, a bastard son of an elf can’t really meddle with the Duke’s daughter and expect to get away with it, can he? You’re trouble, Giles. Beautiful trouble.”

She smiled. If there was any greater proof that this was her Vichy, it was this—for he never could take a single situation seriously. She was glad that that had not been taken from him. It was that very attitude that had her broken in the first place.

“My father should never have done this to you,” she told him. For, as much as she adored it, this was no time for his jokes.

“I chose to go,” he replied, kissing the tears from her cheek. “Besides, with what the Inquisition lot have told me about the Commander, I think you got the worse end of the deal. I have every respect for the man, given what he’s done for us—but Creators, he sounds boring.”

Giles chuckled. “His presence made me miss yours all the more. We should have run.”

He held her close, serious for the first time in his life: “No. I would have agreed to anything your father offered, to keep you safe.”

“But every moment without you I have been in danger of myself.”

She felt Vichy’s head shake, against hers. “Come now, none of that. I’m here. I’m here.”

He was. If only to prove it, if only to know it was real, if only to make it complete—she kissed him. Any lingering doubts fled, in the wake of that kiss. She had made the right decision.

An unfortunately public one, for a cheer went up—a few of the soldiers, who were swiftly reprimanded by their Captain—and Giles was suddenly reminded that they were not alone.

Vichy laughed at them. “All right, pay up!” he called. “Whoever said she wouldn’t show, you owe me a crown!”

Giles chuckled. With the distraction, she could part to find her helm—though she did not have to look for long. It was already discovered, in the hands of Loranil, who’d prevented it from rolling away.

“Best get this back on,” he said, handing it over, “we’re not in the Free Marches yet.”

***

They arrived in the Marches days later, to rendezvous with the Inquisition base in Kirkwall. The majority of the retinue would sequester themselves within; few were permitted to travel on to Sumara.

The Clan was last traced to Planascene Forest, where it had shrouded itself since the troubles of the Breach. Inquisition scouts had confirmed its location, and offered warning: more Inquisition were bound, to return a lost daughter.

The Clan had given no reply—except to say that they were waiting.

That sense of anticipation was felt throughout Planascene. Ancient trees shadowed the path, so that daylight could barely break through. Swaying leaves atop the canopy never quite settled into silence.

Giles felt watched. As if the Creators themselves now weighed her worth. What if they rejected her?

Such concern was halted, by the touch of a hand slipping into her own. Vichy.

“Chanter to E-4,” he whispered, with a smile.

Oh. Not a valid opening move. Unless…

“Are you referring to our game from the boat?” asked Giles.

They’d had to pass the time over the Waking Sea somehow, and they always did their best talking over a game of chess. Lucky for them, the skipper had a board.

“I am,” said Vichy. “I was about to win, and the fact of our journey’s end was quite convenient for you, I’d say.”

“Empress to E-4, capture,” Giles replied, quite in disagreement.

Vichy chuckled anyway. Giles did not truly think that he had restarted the game for his own glory. No, it made for a perfect distraction, and she was grateful for it.

It also served as a reminder. No matter what happened in the next few hours, she had him. They had each other. That was enough. That was more than enough.

Trees gave way to boulder-like stone, too purposefully-carved to be merely natural—likely some kind of ruins. The largest of its old columns towered over them, defiant in its continued existence. Loranil, treading carefully, raised his hands. To the stones, he called out, in Elven:

“Hold! We are friends!”

Movement, atop the ruins. A pair of elves, dressed in the leather of hunters, and carrying bows as tall as their bodies, made themselves known.

They asked something of Loranil, to which he gave a hasty answer. Though they seemed unsure, one withdrew, and disappeared beyond the ruins.

“I’ve asked for their Keeper,” Loranil explained to Giles. His eyes passed to the soldiers behind her. “Keep your weapons sheathed,” he warned.

The soldiers nodded, even stepping a pace back. The hunter who’d remained watched them, carefully.

It was some time—a half-hour at least—before the other finally returned, to their perch. Yet, more movement came with them. Out, from betwixt the ruins, emerged an elven man. He was of middle age, at least, with pale skin and paler hair. The robes he wore were unmistakably elaborate, the staff he bore thrumming with magic. The attire of a Keeper.

Though Giles did not understand it, he asked something of her. Loranil stepped in:

“Yes, this is the woman. Her mother was of your Clan.”

The Keeper switched to common tongue. “And what is your name?” he asked.

“Giles. Giles Samient,” she told him. “It was my mother’s wish that I would one day return to her Clan.”

“Have you any proof?”

Giles stammmered, “What?”

The Keeper gestured to his hunters. “I understand your hopes—but I must exercise caution. I cannot allow outsiders into the Clan without proof that you are, indeed, of Sumara.”

Giles hurried to unclasp the pendant from her neck. “This,” she said, holding the halla-horn out, “this was my mother’s.”

The Keeper, with a nod, permitted Loranil to retrieve the pendant from her—though he seemed as reluctant to take it as she was to let it go. Every step it retreated from her felt like another claw piercing her heart, threatening to tear it out.

But the pendant was safely delivered, and the Keeper regarded it with a curious eye.

“I was First to our previous Keeper, when we settled near Samient. Both your mother and father were friends of mine,” he revealed, meeting Giles’ gaze, “but I do not recognise this trinket.”

Panic struck her face—yet he went on:

“However, there is one who may. Excuse me for a moment.”

The Keeper withdrew into the ruins. The hunters remained, watching. The wait, this time, was even longer. Vichy and Loranil did their best to console Giles’ worry, but with every passing minute, it grew. It felt as though the longer they waited, the lesser her chances became—

Rustling, beyond the ruins. The crack of a twig, underfoot. Someone was coming.

The Keeper re-emerged, accompanied by another. An older woman. Her skin was tan, a little lighter than Samient’s—but her hair was the same shade of reddish-brown, greying at the scalp.

The pendant was in her hand, now, the chain dangling from her tightly-curled fingers. Her frail eyes darted between the gathered visitors—until they settled on Giles.

A string of Elven spilled from the woman’s mouth, as she stumbled forward. There was only one word Giles recognised.

“Terana.”

Giles’ breath caught. Her father had spoken her mother’s name only three times her whole life—each time more pained than the last. But this woman’s single utterance bore more pain than all his put together.

The woman came face-to-face with her, eyes searching Giles’. More words she didn’t understand. Giles called to Loranil:

“What did she say?”

Almost speechless, Loranil answered: “She asks if you are Terana. Her daughter.”

Her—? Giles shook her head. “What do you mean?”

Tears welled in the woman’s eyes, as she raised her hands to cradle Giles’ face.

“I think,” Loranil breathed, “this is your grandmother.”

The woman rubbed her thumbs over Giles’ pointed ears, and turned back to the Keeper. She said something; sobbed it, screamed it.

“Your companion is correct,” the Keeper said to Giles, a smile forming across his face. “This is Terana’s mother. And she says you are her granddaughter.”

Giles met her grandmother’s gaze. Words she had never expected. Her grandmother.

She saw, in her face, a reflection of her own. In every curve and feature, there was something of her that they shared. She was so beautiful. Even their tears fell the same.

“My granddaughter,” she whispered, “at last, Ghila’nain has guided you home.”

Her hands withdrew, and she threaded the necklace around Giles’ neck, sealing the clasp herself.

“I gave this to your mother, so that one day, she could come home. That is the last you have of her,” she said, wiping a tear from Giles’ cheek, “and you are the last I have of her.”

Crumbling, collapsing, Giles fell into her embrace. She hoped it was something like holding her mother would have been. She hoped her mother knew. She hoped she could feel it too.

But her grandmother noted Vichy beside them, and curiosity drew her to part. She asked of Giles:

“Who is this?”

“This is Vichy,” Giles explained, “we are betrothed.”

Her grandmother took his hands, and squeezed them. “You brought her home. Which Clan are you from?”

“None, I’m afraid,” answered Vichy. “An alienage. But my mother—she was born in a Clan.”

“Good. Good, strong boy.” She patted his hand. “Then you are home.”

“Ma serannas,” he said, before adding to Giles: “I think she likes me.”

Giles gave a little laugh. “Good.”

Her grandmother took her hand once more, and led her toward the Keeper. The hunters above relaxed their bows, standing to attention, rather than to guard.

“I present my granddaughter,” she said.

The Keeper nodded. “Andaran atish’an, Giles. Welcome to your Clan. In fact”—he looked to Vichy, and Loranil, and their little retinue—“let me extend my welcome to you all. You have returned to us a daughter of Sumara. We must celebrate.”

He extended an arm towards the gap in the ruins. The hunters drew back; Loranil and the soldiers took the invitation. Giles, one hand taken by her grandmother, threaded her other through Vichy’s.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Giles smiled. “Better. I am home.”

[thon717-fmp]

Research into ninja games Part 2

Ninja blade

Concept: FromSoftware aimed to create a game with intense sequences like Hollywood action films, working with Microsoft to design the protagonist, Ken Ogawa.

Design and Production: Keiji Nakaoka from Capcom's 2nd Character Development Studio designed the character. The game was categorized as a "cinematic action game," blending hack and slash with context-sensitive commands. Norihiko Hibino's GEM Impact studio composed the soundtrack, and Production I.G. handled the animation.

Demo and Release: A demo was released in Japan in December 2008 and in North America in March 2009. The full game was released for Xbox 360 in 2009 (Japan in January, Europe in April, North America in April, and Australia in August). A Windows port was released in Russia in November 2009 and globally via Steam two weeks later. Iceberg Interactive released a retail version in Europe in February 2010, and the game became available through OnLive in North America and the UK in 2011.

Ghost of Tsushima

Overview: "Ghost of Tsushima: Director’s Cut" brings Jin Sakai's epic journey to PC for the first time, offering the complete game experience with enhanced features and graphics options.

Setting and Story:

Historical Context: Set in the late 13th century during the Mongol invasion of Japan.

Protagonist: Jin Sakai, a samurai warrior and one of the last surviving members of his clan.

Objective: Protect Tsushima Island from the Mongol invasion led by Khotun Khan.

Transformation: Jin must adopt unconventional warfare tactics, becoming the "Ghost," to liberate his homeland.

Mature Content Description:

Violence: Frequent intense violence, dismemberment, decapitation, and blood effects.

Gore: Graphic scenes, including a civilian being burned alive and a beheaded man’s head shown to the camera.

Blood: Visible in environments, on clothing, and from successful attacks.

Shadow Tactics

Overview: "Shadow Tactics: Blades of the Shogun" is a hardcore tactical stealth game set in Japan during the Edo period. Players control a team of specialists, each with unique abilities, to navigate and infiltrate various locations while avoiding or eliminating enemies.

Gameplay:

Tactical Stealth: Players must sneak through shadows, set traps, poison enemies, or avoid contact entirely.

Infiltration Missions: Locations include castles, monasteries, and forest camps, each requiring strategic planning and execution.

Character Dynamics: Over time, the team's diverse personalities learn to trust each other, forming friendships and developing a group dynamic.

Objective:

Master challenging missions by devising unique tactics and strategies to outsmart and defeat enemies, ensuring the team's success through careful planning and execution.

Onimusha

"Onimusha" is a series of video games developed and published by Capcom, blending historic Japanese figures with supernatural elements. The games feature action-adventure gameplay with third-person hack-and-slash combat and puzzles.

Plot and Setting:

The series retells Japan's history with a twist of the supernatural.

Players assume the role of a protagonist wielding the power of the Oni to combat the Genma, the primary antagonists.

Gameplay:

Combines hack-and-slash combat with puzzle-solving elements.

Players use Oni powers to battle enemies and navigate through challenges.

Ghostrunner

Genre and Setting: "Ghostrunner" is a first-person perspective (FPP) slasher game set in a cyberpunk megastructure. It offers lightning-fast action in a grim, dystopian environment.

Plot: Players climb Dharma Tower, humanity's last refuge after a catastrophic event. They navigate through the tower's violent streets ruled by the tyrannical Keymaster, Mara, seeking revenge and confronting tyranny.

World and Challenges: Dharma Tower is a city filled with violence and chaos, where resources are scarce, and the strong prey on the weak. Players face overwhelming odds as they strive to restore order before humanity faces extinction.

Gameplay: As the most advanced blade fighter, players utilize a monomolecular katana to slice through enemies, dodge bullets with superhuman reflexes, and employ specialized techniques to overcome challenges.

Core Experience: Players are always outnumbered but never outclassed, offering a thrilling and intense experience of fast-paced combat and precise movement in a dystopian setting.

Bushido Blade

Game Title and Concept: "Bushido Blade" is a 3D fighting video game developed by Lightweight and published by Square and Sony Computer Entertainment for the PlayStation. The game emphasizes one-on-one armed combat and draws inspiration from the Japanese warrior code of honor, bushidō.

Innovative Gameplay: Bushido Blade introduced a realistic fighting engine, notably featuring the unique Body Damage System. Unlike traditional fighting games, there are no time limits or health gauges during combat. Instead, most hits result in instant death, and players can disable opponents gradually with precise strikes from their weapons.

Sequel and Related Titles: The success of Bushido Blade led to a direct sequel, Bushido Blade 2, released a year later on the PlayStation. Additionally, another game with a similar title and gameplay, Kengo: Master of Bushido, was developed by Lightweight for the PlayStation 2.

Core Gameplay Experience: Players engage in intense one-on-one battles, focusing on precise strikes and tactical maneuvers to defeat opponents. The absence of health gauges and the emphasis on realistic combat mechanics set Bushido Blade apart from traditional fighting games, offering a unique and immersive experience.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Isadora Duncan, the dancer, was born 147 years ago today.

Born in California, Duncan lived in Western Europe and the Soviet Union from the age of 22 until her death at age 50. She performed to acclaim throughout Europe after being exiled from the United States for her Soviet sympathies.

Duncan's fondness for flowing scarves was a contributing factor towards her death in an automobile accident in Nice, France, when she was a passenger in an Amilcar. Her silk scarf, draped around her neck, became entangled around the open-spoked wheels and rear axle, breaking her neck.

In her early years in the San Francisco area, Duncan attended school but, finding it to be constricting to her individuality, she dropped out. As her family was very poor, both she and her sister gave dance classes to local children to earn extra money.

In 1896, Duncan became part of Augustin Daly's theater company in New York. She soon became disillusioned with the form. Her father, along with his third wife and their daughter, died in the 1898 sinking of the British passenger steamer, SS Mohegan.

Duncan’s different approach to dance was evident in her early classes, in which she “followed [her] fantasy and improvised, teaching any pretty thing that came into [her] head.”

A desire to travel brought Duncan to Chicago where she auditioned for many theater companies, finally finding a place in Augustin Daly's company. This job took her to New York City where her unique vision of dance clashed with the popular pantomimes of theater companies.

Feeling unhappy and limited with her work in Daly’s company and with American audiences, Duncan decided to move to London in 1898. There she found work performing in the drawing rooms of the wealthy and inspiration from the Greek vases and bas-reliefs in the British Museum. The money she earned from these engagements allowed her to rent a dance studio to develop her work and create larger performances for the stage.

From London, Duncan traveled to Paris, where she drew inspiration from the Louvre and the Exhibition of 1900. One day in 1902, Loie Fuller visited Duncan’s studio and invited Duncan to tour with her. This took Duncan all over Europe creating new works using her innovative dance technique.

Duncan’s style consisted of a focus on natural movement instead of the rigid technique of ballet. She spent most of the rest of her life in this manner, touring in Europe as well as North and South America, where she performed to mixed critical reviews.

Duncan became quite popular for her distinct style and inspired many visual artists, such as Antoine Bourdelle, Auguste Rodin and Abraham Walkowitz to create works based on her.

Duncan disliked the commercial aspects of public performance, like touring and contracts, because she felt they distracted her from her real mission — the creation of beauty and the education of the young. To achieve her mission, she opened schools to teach young women her dance philosophy. The first was established in 1904 in Grunewald, Germany.

This institution was the birthplace of the "Isadorables" – Anna, Maria-Theresa, Irma, Lisel, Gretel, Erika, Isabelle and Temple (Isadora's niece) – Duncan’s protégées, who would go on to continue her legacy. In 1914, Duncan moved to the United States and transferred the school there.

A townhouse on Gramercy Park was provided for its use, and its studio was nearby, on the northeast corner of 23rd Street and Fourth Avenue, which is now Park Avenue South.

Otto Kahn, the head of Kuhn, Loeb & Co. gave Duncan use of the very modern Century Theatre at West 60th Street and Central Park West for her performances and productions, which included a staging of Oedipus Rex, which involved almost all of Duncan's extended entourage and friends.

Duncan wrote of American dancing: “let them come forth with great strides, leaps and bounds, with lifted forehead and far-spread arms, to dance.” Her focus on natural movement emphasized steps, such as skipping, outside of codified ballet technique. Duncan also cites the sea as an early inspiration for her movement.

By the end of her life, Duncan's performing career had dwindled and she became as notorious for her financial woes, scandalous love life and all-too-frequent public drunkenness as for her contributions to the arts. She spent her final years moving between Paris and the Mediterranean, running up debts at hotels.

Duncan spent short periods in apartments rented on her behalf by a decreasing number of friends and supporters, many of whom attempted to assist her in writing an autobiography. They hoped it might be successful enough to support her.

Duncan's fondness for flowing scarves was a contributing factor towards her death in an automobile accident in Nice, France, at the age of 50. On the night of September 14, 1927, Duncan was a passenger in the Amilcar automobile of a French-Italian mechanic Benoît Falchetto, whom she had nicknamed "Buggatti.” Her silk scarf draped around her neck, became entangled around the open-spoked wheels and rear axle, breaking her neck.

As The New York Times noted in its obituary: "Isadora Duncan, the American dancer, tonight met a tragic death at Nice on the Riviera. According to dispatches from Nice, Miss Duncan was hurled in an extraordinary manner from an open automobile in which she was riding and instantly killed by the force of her fall to the stone pavement."

The accident gave rise to Gertrude Stein's mordant remark that "affectations can be dangerous.”

[Deborah Roldan-Dixon]

[stevetonyweekly]

Stevetony Weekly - October 16

 Welcome back! I spent a lot of time working through re-reads this week--and reading comics!!! I finally finished the Civil War run and I’m big sad--and there’s some delicious silvertwink content from the mini bang. 

***Marks my recent favorites 

~*~ 

***His Fate Will Be Unlearned by scifigrl47

Tony Stark spent his childhood making weapons, filling the hole his father left in the world when he succumbed to alcohol, grief, and his own demons. At the age of fifteen, he ran away from home, and made it as far as MIT before all of his responsibilities caught up to him. Now seventeen, he just wants to finish his degree and escape from everything connected to the Stark name.

Steve Rogers crashed into the icy North Atlantic in the 1940's, sacrificing himself to save the world. He never expected to wake up, and now that he has, he's not sure he's glad. The US Army has other plans for him, but for now, Steve is slowly learning to live life in the 21st century, and taking classes at Boston College. He's beginning to suspect that there is no escape.

Boston College is on the T's Green Line. MIT is on the Red. The two lines meet at the Park Street Station, and so will Steve and Tony.

I love this fic. It’s I think the third time I’ve read it, and I just--I love how sad and broken both of them are, and how they put each other together. It’s flawless. 

The Act of Creation Will Be Your Salvation by scifigrl47

When Tony Stark was seventeen years old, he built his first AI. On that day, he ceased to be his father's creation, and became a creating force in his own right.

That one act likely saved his life, and not always in the most obvious ways.

If you’ve read my work at all, you know I have a soft spot for Irondad AND for Dum-E. This series--and I did read a good portion of the series this week--is so lovely. I adore the way that DJ is depicted, and the fierce love Tony has for him, that is still utterly in character. 

Curiosity Changes Everything by scifigrl47

Everyone in their life has had a little case of hero worship. A tiny crush on a celebrity. A teenage infatuation.

Dummy Stark-Rogers is not any different.

And the Mars Rover Curiosity is a stunning piece of tech.

Bedtime Stories and Nightmares by scifigrl47

Tony Stark was comfortable with his life. And why shouldn't he be? He's brilliant, rich, powerful, a super hero. He's got a team he trusts, a job he enjoys, his work and his creations, and he's sleeping with Captain America. Tony's life is just fine, thank you very much. He knew that it would change, life always changes, but he wasn't in any way prepared for how it was about to change.

Tony never intended to be a parent, and even if he had, he could never have anticipated this particular change.

***Stories Told With Silence by scifigrl47

Parenting is harder than it looks. But, to be fair, so is being a human kid.

In which Tony becomes the rather overwhelmed parent to a bot who is no longer always a bot, and finds out that if DJ Stark is ever going to leave Stark Tower, then they've got to figure out a way to explain him to the US Government.

For the first time, Tony regrets that time he called members of congress "assclowns."

Rescue Missions and Mistaken Identities by scifigrl47 for PaxieAmor

In which DJ Stark meets another kid.

Too bad that kid is someone who shouldn't be a kid, and doesn't know that DJ isn't always, either.

What follows is an escape attempt, thus making it the worst possible playdate.

I will admit I’m not usually a huge fan of Phil Coulson. There are few notable exceptions, and scifigrl always manages to be one of those. Getting deep into his head this go around was lovely. 

The Monster In the Closet by scifigrl47

In "Rescue Missions and Mistaken Identities," Phil asks if DJ can swim. And DJ says he can. So how does a child who hates baths learn to swim?

In a way that terrifies his parents.

In which DJ learns to swim, and meets the last of the Tower's residents. Both activities go bad before they get better.

Where His Heart Belongs by tinystark616 

The first time they have sex, Steve doesn't touch the arc reactor. Tony can see that he wants to, but when his fingertips slide closer to it, Tony flinches a little and he stops immediately.

Steve doesn't try again that night, but the arc reactor lights up his face the entire time, its light reflected in his blue eyes.

And Tony falls even more in love with him.

This is so sweet it’s I almost forgot there was sex involved--it’s just Steve being so careful and loving with Tony and I am a huge sucker for that. 

never been mine by Areiton

There's a story in this pretty boy, and he's not entirely sure he wants to hear it.

He doesn't want to know why no one else would tattoo him, doesn't want to know what Tony wants and how close it bumps against the few hardlines Steve has.

"I didn't want it," Tony says, and it's abrupt, jerks Steve out of his musing to stare at him.

I adore fics that subvert tropes. I also love tattoos and silvertwink dynamics. So I guess writing this fic makes a lot of sense.

Beautiful Marks by Kat_Greenleaf

When Steve underwent Project Rebirth, he grew. His body stretched. It lengthened and widened, and it shows. Although he is supposed to be the perfect specimen, unblemished and scar-less, he's covered in stretch marks.

Steve is very self-conscious about these marks, and his partner, Tony Stark, sometimes has to remind him that his stretch marks are beautiful.

Steve’s soft insecurity and Tony’s gentle reassurances and worship are everything to me. 

****Tied Together With a Smile by iam93percentstardust

That you cry, but you don't tell anyone

That you might not be the golden one

And you're tied together with a smile

But you're coming undone

~

“Captain Rogers, this is my sub, Maria,” Howard managed through a strangled voice. “And my son—”

“I’m Tony,” YouKnowWhoIAm said, boldly sticking his hand out for Steve to shake. He took it, automatically raising it to his lips to kiss, the way he’d been taught to greet unattached subs as a child. It had fallen out of fashion while Steve was in the ice, and he’d mostly trained himself out of the impulse, but he just couldn’t resist when he saw Tony.

This was so lovely--the way kink was handled, and the way Steve and Tony fit together, the soft bratty behavior and how much of a service top Steve was--everything about it. I loved everything about it. 

****The Sweet Fruit of Patience by hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes)

"Hi Anthony," he whispers, cradling him close to his chest. "I'm your godfather, Steve."

The story of how a Steve that never went into the ice finds his way to the boy he's meant to be with.

Oh my god the way Steve devotes himself to Tony?? Is EVERYTHING??? Just--so fucking lovely. 

My Ding Ding Dong by KandiSheek

Tony buys underwear with an attachable dildo in it, and Steve finally puts his foot down with the ridiculous sex toys Tony has been buying. He's not going to wear that.

(He ends up wearing it.)

****this love came back to me by meidui

It’s been five years.

Tony is softer than he remembers, in navy blue wool, silver in his hair and beard, laugh lines deeper around his eyes and mouth, holding onto his little girl. Steve thinks he must look rougher than Tony remembers, from the way Tony holds her tighter and steps back from him when he shuts the door of his car, as if looking for an escape.

As if he could get away from Steve.

I love the soft vibe of this, and the way that Steve is so conflicted but utterly incapable of staying away from Tony is just--delicious. Add in soft, reluctant Daddy kink and I just--it’s like meidui poked around my brain and then wrote  the perfect story for me. 

****there are still beautiful things by meidui

The day Tony takes Steve home from the New York Army National Guard is the best day of his life.

Tony had hardly wanted to spare his personnel file a second glance because, really, if the United States Armed Forces wants to send one of their captains to stay with him for three months and liaise with the weapons manufacturing division at his company, he has more than enough staff and lodging to accommodate the man without ever needing to hold a full conversation with him.

Tony tends to think with his dick at inopportune times, though, and when his gaze catches on Steve’s photo, serious blue eyes bright under dirty blond hair, plush pink lips begging to be bruised with kisses and cheekbones like they were carved by god himself, he licks his lips and thinks, oh, I want one.

While I am extremely fond of twink Tony and silver fox Steve--this switched the dynamics and it was…just everything. The vibe was almost dreamy, the soft spoiled bratty Steve was flawless, and how besotted Tony was is almost painful, except it’s so gentle and sweet, nothing hurt. 

I finished reading through the Puzzle Pieces series, and I adored it. I am a sucker for well done kidfic and this is one of the best there are--Steve is such a protective grump, Tony an overprotective workaholic and their kid a mess of issues that any Hydra raised child would be. Clint and Bucky are perfect and beautiful and painful.

The Morning After the Night Before by sara_holmes

So they rescued the boys, beat up Hydra, decapitated the villain du jour - oh, and finally got your guy, in Bucky's case - and all got home safely. There's still some loose ends to tie up, though.

Technicolor by sara_holmes

Arto's favorite thing to learn is colors. Most of the Avengers are easy colors, but some are definitely more rainbow than the rest.

Tax Breaks and Exploding Unicorns by sara_holmes

Arto watches the news, and demands to know why Steve and Tony aren't married if they're allowed.

Adventures in Babysitting by sara_holmes

Arto Rogers has a knack for going out and attracting, causing, finding and involving himself in various degrees of trouble. Steve handles this with fortitude and dignity, except for that he really doesn't.

Another Mountain to Climb by sara_holmes

So as if Clint pulling a nearly-dying stunt wasn't bad enough, Bucky now has to deal with Clint's sidekick/younger brother blaming him for the entire mess. Frankly, Bucky thinks a) that Clint should sort himself out and stop running away, b) Steve and Tony should put a leash on their kid, and c) Thor and his friends should back the hell off.

Rogers Versus Rogers Versus School by sara_holmes

It's time for Arto to start school. It somehow goes as bad as Steve expected, and also better.

Special Delivery by sara_holmes

With most of the team away on missions across the globe - or further - Tony and Clint are left to keep an eye on Arto. Or maybe Tony is left to keep an eye on Clint and Arto. Either way, it was going to be a pretty easy - if not boring - few days.

That is, until a FedEx guy drops off a baby in the lobby. That's gonna make things slightly more complicated.

Crush by sara_holmes for 27dragons

Tony and Steve notice that Arto is acting weird. And not just your regular run-of-the-mill, member-of-the-Avengers-family weird, either. Like, teenager weird.

Bucky and Clint are no help, seeing as their kid is barely one and is happily just gross rather than weird.

Maximus by sara_holmes

Bucky is sick of aliens and then Thor brings one into the goddamn house, claiming it’s a birthday present? No thank you.

****All Time Low by sara_holmes

His stupid best friend isn't talking to him, his stupid superhero parents are having drama of their own, and his stupid brain is acting up no matter how much he ignores it. Arto Rogers-Stark is not having the best time.

Puzzle Pieces by sara_holmes

Arto is a baby-Rogers super soldier. His Dads are Captain America and Iron Man, his big brother is Hawkeye, his brother-or-uncle-depends-which-way-around-his-family-tree-he-goes is the Winter Soldier. Not to mention the rest of the Avengers that he lives with. Yeah, his life is probably certifiably insane, even when they're trying to be normal.

He doesn't mind so much.

[estherdedlock]

I’ve been in the mood to read some YA fantasy and all of Leigh Bardugo’s books were waitlisted at my library, so I turned to Cassandra Clare. I’ve heard about her for years, but never read any of her books. I’m just finishing Clockwork Princess, the third installment in the Infernal Devices trilogy and I have...questions.

I’m not going to get into the love triangle that’s the heart of the book because it’s been rehashed at length and I don’t really care about it. This is what I can’t stop thinking about:

Why TF does Will pursue Tessa on horseback???

It makes no sense. The book is set in 1878, not the middle ages. By then, rail service was extensive throughout Great Britain, even to remote areas like Wales. Sure, he couldn’t have taken a train all the way to the base of Cadair Idris, but he could’ve reached the region a lot faster by train than he did on a horse.

Here is the location of Cadair Idris:

And here is what the rail network looked like by the end of the 1870s:

You see? There were rail lines going all the way up to the north coast of Wales. The distance from Fleet Street in London (roughly the site of the Shadowhunter’s Institute) to Cadair Idris is approximately 240 miles. In the late 19th century, trains ran at an average speed of about 40 miles per hour. Even accounting for delays, transfers, stops, bad weather, etc., Will could’ve probably reached Wales by train in at most 10 hours. Then I’m sure he would’ve been able to buy or borrow a horse to take him to Cadair Idris. His total travel time would’ve been less than 24 hours.

Instead, he rides the whole way on horseback, and it takes him four days. And three nights. It takes him that long, in part, because the supposedly magic horse Balios exhibits neither magical speed nor strength, and constantly has to be rested and fed...as does Will, who pampers himself along the route with hot baths, warm meals, glasses of wine, and overnight stays in comfortable inns...all while he believes the love of his life to be in the captivity of an evil madman who has sworn to use her for some inscrutable and awful purpose. Four days. And three nights. That’s not a desperate rescue mission, it’s a Victorian gentleman’s country holiday.

“But Esther,” you say, “he went on horseback in hopes of catching up to her before she ever reached Cadair Idris!”

Nope - before he leaves London, Will admits that he knows he has no chance of outpacing the Magister’s mechanized horses, and can only hope to get to Cadair Idris "before it is too late.” But Will has a mechanized horse of his own!! The railroad! Back then, they even used to call it “The Iron Horse!” Tessa is in a stagecoach. Will could’ve gotten a train in London and reached Cadair Idris days before Tessa.

“But Esther,” you say, “he found a clue along the road...Tessa’s jade necklace! He’d never have found it if he’d been on a train!”

Good point, but what does Will do after finding the necklace? Does he pick up the pace? Spur his “magic” horse on to feats of magical speed and strength, renewed by the hope that he must be right on Tessa’s heels? Does he even skip a meal?

Nope, nope, and nope - he stops for the night and demands a servant procure him a private room and a hot bath. He bathes, shaves, and dresses for dinner...which, we are told, is not to his liking, the wine being sour and the meat being tough. Then the self-indulgent young wayfarer gets himself beaten up by werewolves, only to be rescued by the London pack leader, Woolsey Scott---who, inexplicably, is just hanging out at this remote inn that Will has taken two full days to reach on horseback. Perhaps Mr. Scott took the train?

Finally, our hero is in sight of Cadair Idris -- and it’s time for another break. With only 20 miles left between him and the imperiled love of his life, he stops off for his third night at an inn, where he sleeps so soundly that only an attack of demonic automatons can rouse him from slumber.

Later, Will cautiously reminds himself that Jem, “...had always said that Will rushed toward the end of a mission rather than proceeding in a measured manner.” But this entire trip has been nothing but “a measured manner,” laughably so! A trip that should’ve taken 8-10 hours takes four days and why? BECAUSE CASSANDRA CLARE WANTED WILL ON THAT HORSE. Will on a horse is dashing and romantic, Will on a train is not, I guess. But it’s not dashing and romantic when, instead of taking the quickest possible means of rescuing his lady love, the hero opts for a dilatory road trip! With dinner! And wine! And hot baths!

Moving on from this silliness, when Will finally does find Tessa, he literally walks right through her enchanted, invisible prison wall, even though the Magister said earlier that breaching the wall was impossible without a time-consuming spell. He walks right through it! Right through! Is this because he’s Nephilim? We never find out. Why? Because Cassandra Clare had to get Will through that wall so that he could mourn Jem by having sex with Jem’s fiancee.

And as for the Magister, his evil plan is dreadfully stupid. He’s bonded demon spirits to the bodies of his automatons, making it impossible for Nephilim to kill them with their special angel swords. But they can still be killed with...regular swords! And axes, and hammers, and basically anything wielded with enough strength. So he’s gone to all this trouble to create an army that does not need a race of angelic warriors to defeat it, just enough people with sharp blades and blunt objects. Hell, you could even run them over with a train. You know, like the kind Will should’ve taken to Wales instead of trotting on a horse for four freaking days.

Nevertheless, I quite enjoyed this book, and the two that preceded it. It takes a certain level of boldness for an author to write with such lack of concern for what make sense, to refuse to “kill her darlings” and instead, give them 500+ pages on which to play to her heart’s content. It sounds odd, but I actually admire such giddy brazenness, and apparently, it’s worked out very well for Ms. Clare so all props to her. Really.

But still...four freaking days?

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Sun Myung Moon: Prophet for Profit (1976)

▲ Here is the self-ordained Reverend Moon as he spoke behind a bullet-proof screen in New York’s Madison Square Garden at a 1974 rally. He preached love while thousands of his followers were in the streets collecting money.

Parade magazine, May 30, 1976 pages 6-7 (also Day of Hope 3-2c.pdf)

by L. H. Whittemore

NEW YORK, N.Y. Next Tuesday night (June 1, 1976) in Yankee Stadium a pudgy, round-faced, 56-year-old evangelist from South Korea will launch his greatest effort to date to convince Americans that he has been chosen to lead us all to salvation.

The preacher is the self-ordained Rev. Sun Myung Moon who, since coming to this country, has added thousands of young Americans to his global army of followers, amassed a fortune that includes at least $50 million in property, publicly embraced a President of the United States—and been accused of brainwashing, misleading and virtually enslaving his converts. Moon’s Yankee Stadium rally kicks off a national tour he calls the “Bicentennial God Bless America Festival.”

To his followers, who are often called “Moon Children” or “Moonies,” the persuasive Moon is “the third Adam, the next Jesus Christ, and the true parent of mankind”—a new Messiah who will, in the not too distant future rule the world.

To many concerned American parents, however, he is a false prophet who has lured their children into his “Unification Church” by appealing to their idealistic instincts and then cuts them off from their families and sets them to work peddling, recruiting and raising money for him and his worldwide organization.

One Moonie who managed to escape from the movement is Ford Greene, 23-year-old godson of Sen. James Buckley (R.-Cons., N.Y.). Like thousands of others, Greene was hooked by attending a weekend workshop that was never outwardly identified as being part of the Moon organization, which has set up several front groups bearing names like the Collegiate Association for the Research of Principles, [CARP on College Campuses] and the Creative Community Project [in the Bay Area]. Most are run by Moon followers brought from other countries to do recruiting here.

‘Love-bombed’ Says Greene: “Anyone who goes for the weekend introductory program gets ‘love-bombed.’ That means all the Moonies are super-friendly. They say how glad they are to see you. Everyone laughs and sings and has a good time. I tell you, it’s quite a trip.

“They tell you the Messiah is now here on Earth, and they, hint very strongly that it’s Moon. After listening to hours of lectures and never having a chance to think things over for yourself, you’re ready to believe.”

According to Jean Merritt, a psychiatric social worker in Lincoln, Mass., those who join up with Moon “are usually idealistic young men and women who are having difficulty deciding what to do with their lives.” The cult offers an attractive alternative to the outside world, she says. But at the same time their “ego functioning is manipulated” by the group until they are “mentally imprisoned.”

What is it that Moon followers are supposed to believe? Although Moon calls himself a Christian, he holds that Christ failed in his mission on Earth. In Korea, Moon was dismissed as a Presbyterian in 1948.

[He was excommunicated by the Presbyterian Church, and jailed in Heungnam Special Labor Camp for bigamy in 1948. The husband of Kim Chong-hwa reported him to the authorities for conducting a wedding ceremy with his wife. He was never a spy for South Korea or a political prisoner. That was a UC smokescreen. Moon’s friends were communists and he had chosen to enter communist North Korea in 1946.] Since then he has evolved his own religious concepts, including the assertion that “America has been chosen as the nation to receive the Messiah for ultimate world salvation in our century.”

Moon, who delivers his public exhortations in Korean with an interpreter translating his words into English, asserts that God works through nations, as does Satan. America, being “God’s nation,” must be prepared to do battle for the Lord against the Soviet Union, Communist China and North Korea. The only way to win such a global confrontation, he indicates, is to join the Unification Church before it’s too late —both God and Moon are losing their patience.

[Moon only became anti-communist in the early 1960s to save his skin in South Korea. Later he gave $millions, and submarines, with missile launch tubes to North Korea. LINK.]

“Kings and queens and heads of state will someday bow at my feet,” Moon has told his followers. “I will conquer and subjugate the world.”

The Korean link There is a link between Moon and the South Korean government. President Chung Hee Park not only gives Moon his open support but sends thousands of civil servants to an anti-Communist school [in Guri] run by the Unification sect. Moon’s chief associate is Col. Bo Hi Pak, who was a military attaché for the South Korean government in Washington, D.C., from 1961 to 1964. Pak has also been associated with the Korean CIA. LINK

Whatever Moon’s beliefs and principles may be, there’s no doubt that he has been able to turn them into hard cash. Although he claims to have between 2 and 3 million followers in 100 countries, principally Japan and South Korea, it’s the United States that has really turned out to be a money machine for him. [The money from Japan should never be underestimated. LINK ]

“In 1975,” reports Neil Salonen, 31, president of the American branch of the Unification Church, “we received nearly $12 million in cash at our national headquarters in New York City. But the total collected all over the country was much larger.”

Moon and his movement have purchased $10 million worth of property in Tarrytown, N.Y., near the Hudson River, not to mention real estate in more than 100 cities and in every state. Minimum total value is put at $50 million. To acquire his 22-acre Belvedere estate in Tarrytown, Moon plunked down $850,000 in cash. He also paid $625,000 for a mansion in nearby Irvington, N.Y., where he lives with his fourth wife and their eight children. The cult also owns a 254-acre estate and seminary in Barrytown, N.Y., about 50 miles north of Tarrytown, which is said to be worth $1.5 million. The seminary is the unofficial world headquarters for the Unification Church, whose spiritual home remains in Seoul, the South Korean capital. Moon also is the proprietor of two seagoing yachts and a Manhattan town house. His wealth has helped create a high-powered propaganda machine that would turn a Presidential candidate green with envy.

A numbing regimen According to those who have managed to break loose from the cult, it has also created near prison-like conditions for the true believers.

Moonies live in homes rented or purchased by the Unification Church. According to Salonen, there are at least six “training” or “residential” centers in each state, some with just a few members and others with up to 100. Members are ordered to refrain from alcohol and sex. Men and women are separated in the living quarters and even close friendships are discouraged.

Former members of the cult insist that they never got more than five hours of sleep a night. Moonies, they report, are kept busy with a regimen of exercise, group discussion, lectures, songs and prayers, games like tag [and volleyball] and, of course, long stretches of recruiting and peddling in the outside world. Beneath an exterior of cheerfulness, they are often tired, hungry and even numb, performing their tasks with only the thought that they are “saving the world for God and Moon” to keep them going.

▲ Jaime Sheeran in her room at a Moon seminary. She’s one of three daughters of New Jersey Insurance Commissioner James Sheeran. She won’t quit the cult.

The typical Moonie The typical Moon disciple in the U.S. is a man or a woman, average age 23, from a white, upper-middle-class family. Many are college students disenchanted with American life. Most are carried away by the initial workshop experience, and then find that they’re being put through increasingly lengthy training sessions.

“We’d get letters every week or so,” says Mrs. George Swope of Port Chester, N.Y., referring to the time when her 19-year-old daughter suddenly dropped out of college after one of the cult’s weekends. “She wrote how ‘happy’ she was but that she couldn’t come home. And she never did come home either, until we got her out.”

Her daughter, Winnie, left after six months, but only after being “rescued” by Ted Patrick, 45, the best-known practitioner of “deprogramming”—a rigorous technique of talking it out. Patrick is nicknamed “Black Lightning” by the Moon followers, both for the color of his skin and for his swift appearance in their lives. He claims to have “rescued” more than 1000 members of various cults, all of which, he says, use some sort of “brainwashing.”

In a recent book called Let Our Children Go, Patrick accuses the Unification group of “brainwashing” methods like those used in the Korean war, “when many of our prisoners were subjected to intensive political indoctrination.”

Virtually all former Moonies say that they were “programmed” to think and behave in a certain manner. “My daughter said that she and others would be willing to do anything for Moon,” says Mrs. Swope, “because he really represents God to those in the cult.”

“They completely ripped off my mind and my free will,” says Denise Peskin, 21, of Plainview, N.Y. “I was a robot for Moon. My mind was empty. It was just a reflector of everything they told me.”

‘Eyes out of focus’ Denise says that she worked in San Francisco selling flowers and recruiting new members on the streets. “We were told to say anything to get money,” she reports. “I pushed flowers for ‘youth educational guidance’ and did very well. I also got 50 recruits.”

One of Moon’s most ardent foes, Rabbi Maurice Davis of White Plains, N.Y., says he and a group of 900 concerned families have helped at least 95 Moonies out of the cult. “At first,” he says, “the kids have their eyes out of focus, with plastic smiles on their faces. There’s a total lack of genuine emotion. One boy saw me and actually shriveled into a corner in stark terror. He said the cult had told him I was the Devil. I kept talking to him, trying to get him to think for himself again. He said, ‘Moon is fighting for my soul and so are you. How do I know where the truth is?’ I told him, ‘Moon wants you to stay in his organization. I want you out in the world, free.’ When he finally snapped out of it, he broke into tears and said, ‘Just tell me one thing—where have I been?’ It was frightening.”

Meanwhile, thousands of Moonies work unbelievably long hours soliciting funds and peddling candy, peanuts, flowers and the like, on street corners and in parking lots. Former members say they lost all track of time and that they collected no less than $100 a day.

Since April 1973, Moon has had a permanent residency visa from U.S. immigration, even though questions have been raised about his past. He has been accused of holding sex orgies as part of his rites. A spokesman for him in Seoul says: “It is true that Teacher Moon was tried on morals charges, but he was eventually acquitted.”

‘God loves Nixon’ In 1973, during the Watergate crisis, Moon launched a huge campaign in support of President Nixon. He marshaled 1000 Moonies into rallies and marches with signs proclaiming “God Loves Nixon.” At a White House meeting, the pudgy cult leader embraced the then President.

One of the few public responses to Moon by a prominent politician has come from Sen. Mark Hatfield (R., Oreg.), who said in 1974, “The appeal to nationalism of any country, as if somehow God has favorites among his creatures, is very, very dangerous, particularly when you mix that with the cultic adulation and devotion of his followers and the implicit, if not the explicit, statement that he [Moon] is the new Christ.”

Hatfield’s warning is echoed even more strongly by ex-Moonies who charge that Moon is really seeking world political power and is assembling an army of young zealots ready to die for him.

PARADE interviewed a former high-ranking member of Moon’s cult in the United States who had been in charge of its “political arm” called the Freedom Leadership Foundation. Alan Tate Wood, 29, now a psychology student at Rutgers University in New Jersey, said that he left Moon’s group “because it’s not a church, but a fascist political movement. His group is the most powerful analogue to the Hitler youth that we have at this time.”

The parents act Last February, more than 300 parents of Moon disciples from 30 states converged on Washington for a meeting arranged by Sen. Robert Dole (R., Kan.). They met with representatives of the Internal Revenue Service, the Labor Department, the Postal Service, immigration authorities and others in hopes of persuading federal officials to investigate the Unification cult.

So far, however, there has been little action by the government. An IRS spokesman, Leon Levine, told PARADE that investigation of Moon’s group as a tax-exempt organization poses a touchy, perhaps crucial problem: “The law says that churches are tax-exempt. The question is, when does a group qualify as a religion? It’s not easy to answer.”

Meanwhile, the Rev. Sun Myung Moon goes right on holding meetings, making converts, acquiring property and preparing for his own version of Armageddon.

_____________________________________

Ford Greene – the former Moonie became an attorney

Moonwebs by Josh Freed (the book was made into a movie)

The six ‘wives’ of Sun Myung Moon

Crazy for God: The nightmare of cult life by Christopher Edwards

After Sun Myung Moon’s help, North Korea Launch an SLBM Missile on October 2, 2019

[themculibrary]

Enemies To Lovers Masterlist 2

Links Last Checked: May 18th, 2024

part one

A Deer in Headlights (ao3) - orphan_account tony/stephen T, 23k

Summary: Stephen Strange lives a simple life. He’s an accomplished neurosurgeon and he loves his job, house, and his cat, Levi. He loves his simple life. He just doesn’t love Tony Stark, who lives across the street with his annoying, little kid and their dog.

A Higher Form of War (ao3) - sabrecmc steve/tony M, 292k

Summary: Tony is a King with a surprising number of people out to kill him. Steve and the rest of the Avengers are fighting for Pierce's rebellion and end up with Tony as their prisoner. Oops.

Basically one of those bodice-ripping romance novels I don't read (ahem) but with far more gay.

Ain't No Mountain High Enough (ao3) - SylvanWitch steve/tony E, 7k

Summary: When Steve and Tony wake up on a mountain in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the clothes they had on and each other, they have two choices: Come to terms or die. Well, okay, there might be a third option...

Be All You Can Be (ao3) - flawedamythyst bucky/clint, minor steve/sam T, 45k

Summary: Clint had a horrible, sinking feeling. “And, by ‘go in’, you mean…?”

Hill gave him a beaming smile. “You’ve both enlisted in the US Army, boys. Time to be all you can be.”

Clint was aware that he'd been acting like a dick since Barnes joined the Avengers, but it felt like the asshole had taken over everything that Clint contributed towards the team and left him feeling useless. He couldn't help wondering exactly when he was going to be officially replaced and lose the closest thing he'd ever had to a real home.

So of course SHIELD decided to partner them together for a long-term undercover mission in the US Army. This was going to be hell.

Crash Landing (ao3) - scottxlogan steve/scott summers M, 4k

Summary: After a failed mission Scott Summers and Steve Rogers make a crash landing where Scott stews over his failures until Steve decides it's time to offer up a different kind of distraction.

Glad I Didn't Take The Stairs (ao3) - valiantlybold bucky/tony G, 3k

Summary: “Of all the people I could’ve gotten stuck in an elevator with and it just had to be you. Of literally hundreds of people who work in this building, I had to get stuck with you.”

Light the Spark (ao3) - dr_girlfriend bucky/clint E, 26k

Summary: Excerpt:

“You’re a fuckin’ genius, Barnes!”

“Huh?” Barnes is still focused on petting Lucky, and Clint can’t help but think it’s a little bit adorable how much Barnes likes his dog.

“I’ll just bring you to the thing with me, as my plus one! They didn’t ask who we were bringing, and your security clearance is sure as hell just as high as mine is, so you don’t need to get cleared in advance. Can you imagine their faces when you show up anyway after they specifically gave you the cold shoulder?”

Barnes is quiet for a long minute. “You want me to be your date to this thing?” he finally says, just as Clint is taking another swig of coffee.

Clint chokes, sputtering as half the coffee dribbles down his chin. He wipes it off with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“Not — I mean — I’m not tryin’ to —” Barnes is just watching him flounder, his expression unreadable. “— I meant, like — a pretend date. So that they have to let you in.”

Messenger Bird (ao3) - orphan_account loki/tony N/R, 16k

Summary: Loki has been imprisoned again in Asgard, no visitors allowed but his brother. Tony hears about this through the grapevine and decides to shoot ol' Reindeer Games a letter, just to rub it in a little. To his surprise, Loki actually writes back, just as biting and acidic.

Misconceptions of Mages (ao3) - uofmdragon clint/phil M, 15k

Summary: When Mage Clint agreed to go to Madria to arrange a marriage between the King and Queen of Luja's heir and the only son of the Noble Vodon Family, he did expect to deal with assassins killing everyone, but the Vodon son and having to flee through Madria's back country while his partner fled North in hopes of splitting pursuit. He certainly didn't expect to run into Phil Coulson, Mage of the Riverlands in Lones, Madria or expect Coulson to insist upon him helping Clint. Clint should have really, there was no way that Coulson would trust Clint with Vodon heir, because Coulson did not trust Clint.

When Phil went to visit his sister in Madria, he didn't expect to find Mage Barton on the run with a baby in tow and very paranoid. Of course, he wants to keep an eye on Barton. The man believed in fairies and claimed to have a familiar that no one had ever seen! Barton was probably behind the Vodon assassination and was kidnapping Folcher Vodon. It was Phil's duty to Queen, King, and Country. He just wasn't expecting Barton to suggest that they act like lovers to throw off any potential pursuers.

setting out (for a new tomorrow) (ao3) - racetoanyways steve/bucky, carol/natasha, riley/sam M, 30k

Summary: Steve Rogers has been working at Disney World since he was nineteen, and he's lost his passion for the faith, trust and pixie dust. It might be down to Bucky Barnes, resident Prince Charming and his sworn enemy, to put the Disney magic back in his heart.

Steve Rogers Is A Child (ao3) - LagLemon steve/tony, clint/phil M, 290k

Summary: Tony gets into fights with Steve all the time and it's driving him insane. Sure, he's not the nicest guy in the world, but all he did was steal a little of the guy's sesame seed bagel - he didn't deserve to get yelled at for something stupid like that.

After drowning his sorrows in hot chocolate and complaining to Pepper about what happened, Tony gets a phone call from Natasha telling him to hurry back home. Something's happened - Steve has been attacked and he's not quite the same man he once was - he's been turned into a child.

With Steve out of commission, the team struggles with what to do and Tony finds himself filling roles he had never expected: babysitter and friend.

Swings and Roundabouts (ao3) - mariana_oconnor bucky/clint E, 50k

Summary: Clint Barton hates everything about Bucky Barnes, from his stupid perfect hair to his stupid perfect smile - especially the stupid perfect smug smile that he aims at Clint, like he's better than him or something.

Clint wants nothing more than to wipe that smile off Barnes' dumb face and make him see exactly how good Clint is. So naturally, he kisses him.

That's how it begins.

The Best Worst Thing (that hasn't happened to you yet) (ao3) - sara_holmes bucky/clint M, 48k

Summary: Clint Barton likes to think that in his twenty-seven years he’s grown and matured and has learned how to work effectively with a team. However, twenty-seven years is not enough time to learn to be comfortable with Bucky goddamn Barnes.

The Good The Bad and The Dirty (ao3) - Layora88 steve/tony E, 14k

Summary: Tony and Steve fight...a lot. But Tony really doesn't want to fight anymore.

Tony Stark Is An Asshole And Steve Absolutely Does Not Like Him (ao3) - orphan_account steve/tony M, 3k

Summary: In which Steve Rogers realizes that his feelings for Tony Stark are maybe a little more complicated than he'd thought...

Until I Get My Teeth In You (ao3) - Narcotic_Dollie bucky/cliint, bruce/natasha, pepper/tony E, 55k

Summary: Or the one where Clint Barton has never met Bucky Barnes before in his life, and if he says it enough maybe everyone else will believe him.

What Lies Behind (ao3) - kdm103020, xinsomniac1101x (xCapsiclexShellheadx) T, 63k

Summary: Four months after the Battle of New York, Steve Rogers still hasn't managed to find his footing. The new century is strange and upsetting, and he appears to have no purpose in it. But when SHIELD sends him to liaise with the director of Stark Industries, his life starts to change in ways he could never imagine.

Or, the MCU-rooted AU, in which Steve and Tony both still maintain their secret identities.

You Look a Lot Like My Next Boyfriend (ao3) - Lelantus steve/tony E, 91k

Summary: A Steve/Tony College AU. Tony attempts to “reform” his public image by doing charity work. Steve volunteers at said charity. They meet and kind of hate each other. Then, somehow, they end up friends. And one day Tony realizes he might be a little bit in love with Steve, which wouldn’t be that bad if Steve weren’t pretty much straight. Next comes a bet, a kiss, a minor sexuality crisis, a secret relationship, and a whole lot of boys being stupidly repressed about their feelings.

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 7.21 (after 1950)

1951 – Canadian Pacific Air Lines Flight 3505 disappears while flying from Vancouver to Tokyo. The aircraft and its 37 occupants are never found. 1952 – The 7.3 Mw  Kern County earthquake strikes Southern California with a maximum Mercalli intensity of XI (Extreme), killing 12 and injuring hundreds. 1954 – First Indochina War: The Geneva Conference partitions Vietnam into North Vietnam and South Vietnam. 1959 – NS Savannah, the first nuclear-powered cargo-passenger ship, is launched as a showcase for Dwight D. Eisenhower's "Atoms for Peace" initiative. 1959 – Elijah Jerry "Pumpsie" Green becomes the first African-American to play for the Boston Red Sox, the last team to integrate. He came in as a pinch runner for Vic Wertz and stayed in as shortstop in a 2–1 loss to the Chicago White Sox. 1960 – Sirimavo Bandaranaike is elected Prime Minister of Sri Lanka, becoming the world's first female head of government 1961 – Mercury program: Mercury-Redstone 4 Mission: Gus Grissom piloting Liberty Bell 7 becomes the second American to go into space (in a suborbital mission). 1961 – Alaska Airlines Flight 779 crashes near Shemya Air Force Base in Shemya, Alaska killing six. 1964 – A series of racial riots break out in Singapore. In the next six weeks, 23 die with 454 others injured. 1969 – Apollo program: At 02:56 UTC, astronaut Neil Armstrong becomes the first person to walk on the Moon, followed 19 minutes later by Edwin "Buzz" Aldrin. 1970 – After 11 years of construction, the Aswan High Dam in Egypt is completed. 1972 – The Troubles: Bloody Friday: The Provisional IRA detonate 22 bombs in central Belfast, Northern Ireland, United Kingdom in the space of 80 minutes, killing nine and injuring 130. 1973 – In Lillehammer, Norway, Mossad agents kill a waiter whom they mistakenly thought was involved in the 1972 Munich Olympics Massacre. 1976 – Christopher Ewart-Biggs, the British ambassador to the Republic of Ireland, is assassinated by the Provisional IRA. 1977 – The start of the four-day-long Libyan–Egyptian War. 1979 – Jay Silverheels, a Mohawk actor, becomes the first Native American to have a star commemorated in the Hollywood Walk of Fame. 1983 – The world's lowest temperature in an inhabited location is recorded at Vostok Station, Antarctica at −89.2 °C (−128.6 °F). 1990 – Taiwan's military police forces mainland Chinese illegal immigrants into sealed holds of a fishing boat Min Ping Yu No. 5540 for repatriation to Fujian, causing 25 people to die from suffocation. 1995 – Third Taiwan Strait Crisis: The People's Liberation Army begins firing missiles into the waters north of Taiwan. 2001 – At the conclusion of a fireworks display on Okura Beach in Akashi, Hyōgo, Japan, 11 people are killed and more than 120 are injured when a pedestrian footbridge connecting the beach to JR Asagiri Station becomes overcrowded and people leaving the event fall down in a domino effect. 2005 – Four attempted bomb attacks by Islamist extremists disrupt part of London's public transport system. 2008 – Ram Baran Yadav is declared the first President of Nepal. 2010 – President Barack Obama signs the Dodd–Frank Wall Street Reform and Consumer Protection Act. 2011 – NASA's Space Shuttle program ends with the landing of Space Shuttle Atlantis on mission STS-135 at NASA's Kennedy Space Center. 2012 – Erden Eruç completes the first solo human-powered circumnavigation of the world. 2019 – Yuen Long attack or "721 incident" in Hong Kong. Triad members indiscriminately beat civilians returning from protests while police failed to take action. 2023 – The Barbenheimer phenomenon begins as two major motion pictures, Greta Gerwig's fantasy comedy Barbie and Christopher Nolan's epic biographical thriller Oppenheimer, are released in theaters on the same day and audiences, instead of creating a rivalry between the extremely dissimilar films, instead attend and praise both as an informal, surreal double feature.

[nycreligion]

The evangelicals in 19th Century Williamsburg and Greenpoint. A Journey Retro

The evangelicals in 19th Century Williamsburg and Greenpoint. A Journey Retro

Williamsburgh, 1834. Illustration from Eugene L. Armbruster’s Photographs & Scrapbooks. Source: Brooklyn Historical Society. The faith-flavored identity of New York City was decided on the frontiers of social controversy in religious places like the evangelical Protestant churches of Williamsburg and Greenpoint. Early settlers in the area held private Sunday services in their homes or took a…

[rpgse7enx4]

Grand Theft Auto 5 (GTA V), a video game analysis - By RPG.

Grand Theft Auto, also known synonymously as GTA V is a 2013 action-adventure game and the seventh installment to the Grand Theft Auto linage. It is set within the fictional state of Los Santos, based on SoCal (Southern California); which is divided into two regions, Los Santos and Blaine County.

The single-player story follows three protagonists, all of which with varying qualities and traits, carry out a series of criminal acts (such as large-scale heists, contract murders) against a corrupt government and a vast array of wealthy and powerful criminals/entities. These protagonists are known as Trevor, Franklin and Michael in game; based upon their real life counterparts Steven Ogg, Shawn Fonteno and Ned Luke respectively.

You can chose to travel round the map by foot, or by vehicle; from either a first person, or third person perspective. The player can control which player they play as, by switching to them during or outside of missions. The story mainly focuses on the criminality of the trio, where they set up banks, and involve a lot of shooting and driving involvement; this is all sanctioned and governed by a wanted system, that as you climb the rungs more enforcement of the law occurs and the response of police and law-enforcement agencies gets progressively more intensified.

The basis for game research, idea generation and referencing came from the use of reference imagery taken by Rockstar development teams. As for the soundtrack of the game, it was composed by many different collaborators over several years.

(Screenshot of Franklin, one of the three protagonists, outside of his house in story mode within the game).

The prologue is set in 2004, in a fictional town called Ludendorff in a fictional region named as North Yankton; where Trevor Phillips, Michael Townley and Brad Snider fail at partaking in an armed heist of a bank depot, resulting in Michael being presumed dead for 9 years. Nine years after, Michael lives with his family in Los Santos under the moniker Michael De Santa having made an agreement with the FIB (GTA's take on the FBI, Federal Bureau of Investigation) agent Dave Norton to keep his true identity hidden. As for Franklin Clinton, who lives across Los Santos, he starts off working for a corrupt car salesman by the name of Simeon Yeterian who meets Michael whilst illegitimately "repossessing" his car. Both Michael and Franklin become friends after this dispute and, when Michael catches his wife sleeping with her tennis coach, give chase to this tennis coach which leads them to a mansion. This is where Michael decides to heavily damage the mansion by hooking a rope to a pillar that supports the mansion to a jeep's tow-hitch, and pull at said pillar until it gave way; leaving half the mansion to completely collapse. After this, the mansion owner (a man called Martin Madrazo, a drug kingpin) demands repayment for the damage caused to his mansion from Michael and forces Michael to rob a jewelry store (Vangelico, in game) to get the necessary funds to pay off this debt. Trevor, who is living in squalor-like conditions in a trailer in Blaine County hears of Michael's heist and takes the opportunity to reunite with him. Further, Trevor tries to consolidate control over various criminal enterprises within Los Santos, such as waging war against The Lost MC, Latino street gangs, rival methamphetamine dealers, Blackwater PMC (Private Military Company) and triad Wei Cheng.

In my opinion, this game symbolises the hidden world of criminals; whether it is arms-running, narco-trafficking, contract murder, kidnapping or any other aspect of organised crime. Additionally, it shows the ever-relevant and prevalent public corruption within law-enforcement agencies; and how these agencies can sometimes slip under the net when faced with controversy...this can be seen in GTA when a FIB agent asks Michael to trespass into the IAA headquarters and defile/remove information linked to said FIB agent.

In the game, all three characters are involved and linked with multiple varieties of criminal acts; Trever is involved with the importation and export of controlled substances and arms-smuggling, whilst Michael has a history of committing bank robberies, the unlawful use of illicit weapons and being a brigand, and Franklin's involvement with gang crime, especially unlawful use of firearms and his involvement in the drugs trade.

This links really well with the situation, not only in the United States, but worldwide with the issues that crime and fraud have in society; GTA showcases the destructive nature crime can have on one's mental sanctity and on one's decision making, and the future of their wellbeing, dependent on what actions they have taken in the past.

RPG-7

[internationalrealestatenews]

[ad_1] A courtroom ruling in a rental termination lawsuit may kill sure rental buyout offers throughout the state. Florida's Third District Courtroom of Attraction sided with a gaggle of unit homeowners searching for to dam the demolition of their rental constructing in Edgewater, a waterfront Miami neighborhood the place improvement has been booming. The unit homeowners, who filed a lawsuit over the rental termination of Biscayne 21, alleged that an affiliate of Two Roads Improvement illegally amended the affiliation's declaration to alter the edge to terminate the affiliation from 100% to 80 %. Present state legislation permits builders to terminate with 80 % approval, though 5 % can block that vote. That is why many look to lock up simply over 95 % help. Biscayne 21's declaration predated present legislation. So why does this matter? For Two Roads, which is searching for a rehearing and has vowed to take the problem to Florida's Supreme Courtroom, it poses a serious menace to the way forward for its deliberate improvement. The agency has been pre-selling condos at Version Residences, the primary of a three-tower mission deliberate for the location. The upper courtroom's ruling final week might have affected potential financing, and has possible created concern from current and potential rental patrons of the mission. For builders (those who play within the buyout area), it may kill acquisition and financing offers within the works for properties the place the affiliation had 100% termination language within the rental docs. It additionally signifies that builders will most likely give attention to buildings the place that language doesn't exist and so they can pursue a termination with 80 % of the vote. Additionally complicating the panorama is that the buildings which might be just like have that language of their paperwork are older. The older the buildings, the dearer to keep up, and the likelier that unit homeowners are dealing with higher prices to keep up and insure their properties. These are the buildings builders often goal. What we're excited about: The Nationwide Affiliation of Realtors introduced it was settling antitrust litigation over dealer commissions with a $418 million settlement, pending courtroom approval. What does this imply for you? Ship me a notice at kk@therealdeal.com. CLOSING TIME Residential: Tech investor and Nvidia board member Harvey Jones paid $74.3 million for the waterfront property at 740 Hello Mount Street in Palm Seashore. Candida Burnap offered the ten,467-square-foot, six-bedroom, six-and-a-half-bathroom mansion, which sits on a 1-acre lot. Business: Colonnade Properties paid $76 million for the five-building workplace park referred to as Douglas Entrance in Coral Gables. The sale worth marked an almost 25 % low cost off its earlier sale worth a decade in the past. A three way partnership between Miami-based Banyan Road Capital and Los Angeles-based Oaktree Capital Administration offered the property at 800 Douglas Street. NEW TO THE MARKET Cosmetics inheritor William Lauder relisted his two adjoining, vacant Palm Seashore parcels of land for a mixed $178 million with a brand new dealer. The oceanfront properties at 1063 and 1071 North Ocean Boulevard at the moment are in the marketplace with Christian Angle of Christian Angle Actual Property. Jim McCann of Premier Property Properties beforehand had the itemizing when the properties have been asking $200 million. They're every in the marketplace for $88.9 million now. The two.3-acre meeting consists of about 360 toes of beachfront. A factor we have discovered In 1941, Disney fired a gaggle of cartoonists, together with the animator who created Goofy, for unionizing. Elsewhere in Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis deployed greater than 250 further officers and troopers from the Florida State Guard, Division of Emergency Administration and different legislation enforcement businesses to the state's southern coast to dam Haitian migrants from getting into the state, Newsweek studies.

Gangs have taken over Port-au-Prince, the nation's capital, because the state of affairs in Haiti turns into more and more dire. Haiti's president Ariel Henry introduced final week his plan to resign. A invoice that may have clarified the controversial 2023 legislation that created restrictions for overseas traders — notably these from China — from proudly owning property within the state will head to DeSantis' desk to be signed into legislation with out these clarifications. DeSantis opposed the adjustments, which may have drawn distinctions between individuals and companies with controlling pursuits in corporations that owned actual property, and people with minority pursuits. A difficult lawsuit final yr's legislation will transfer ahead in April, in accordance with the Information Service of Florida. DeSantis can also be attempting to ban lab-grown meat in Florida. Florida handed SB 1084, which might ban and criminalize the manufacturing and sale of cell-cultured meat within the state, Meals & Wine studies. “You want meat, OK. And we'll have meat in Florida.” DeSantis mentioned, in accordance with CBS. “We're not going to have faux meat. Like that does not work. [ad_2] Supply hyperlink

[srviceprovider]

parsisaviation

The Parsis Aviation Training Center was established in 2009 in the Islamic Republic of Iran with a clear vision and mission. Under the leadership of Ahmed Rahmani as the Chairman of the Board of Directors and the late pilot Majid Yousefi Mehr as the CEO, the center aimed to become a leading institution for aviation training and development in the country. With the support of the Civil Aviation Organization and a commitment to excellence, the center embarked on a journey to shape the future of aviation in Iran Employment opportunities.

Over the years, the Parsis Aviation Training Center has gained a strong reputation for its high-quality training programs. The center employed a team of experienced instructors who provided personalized guidance and support to aspiring pilots. The training courses were designed to cover theoretical knowledge, practical skills, and flight simulations to ensure a well-rounded education for the students. By focusing on both ground and flight training, the center aimed to produce competent pilots who were well-prepared to face the challenges of the aviation industry.

In addition to its core training programs, the Parsis Aviation Training Center also emphasized the importance of safety and professionalism. The center instilled a strong culture of safety in its students, ensuring that they were well-versed in aviation regulations, emergency procedures, and risk management. Furthermore, the center emphasized the values of professionalism, discipline, and ethical conduct, aiming to develop pilots who would not only excel in their technical abilities but also exhibit a high level of integrity and responsibility.

The Parsis Aviation Training Center also played an important role in fostering international collaborations and partnerships. The center actively sought opportunities to collaborate with renowned aviation institutions and organizations from around the world. These partnerships allowed for the exchange of knowledge, best practices, and training methodologies, further enhancing the quality of education provided by the center. Such collaborations also opened doors for international job placements and career opportunities for the center's graduates.

In recognition of its contributions to the field of aviation training, the Parsis Aviation Training Center has received several accolades and certifications. The center's commitment to quality and excellence has been acknowledged by both national and international aviation authorities. These recognitions have further solidified the center's reputation as a trusted institution for aviation training and have attracted students not only from within Iran but also from other countries seeking top-notch training in the field.

In conclusion, the Parsis Aviation Training Center stands as a pioneering institution in Iran's aviation industry. Through its comprehensive training programs, emphasis on safety and professionalism, international collaborations, and commitment to excellence, the center has successfully nurtured a generation of skilled and qualified pilots. Its impact extends beyond the individual students, as the center has contributed to the growth of the aviation sector, job creation, and the overall development of the country's aviation infrastructure. The Parsis Aviation Training Center remains steadfast in its mission to shape the future of aviation by producing competent and responsible aviation professionals.

ENTRAL OFFICE

visit us

Tehran - Shahid Hemat Highway - South Satari Highway - Laleh Blvd - North Mujahid Kabir Street, Laleh 9th Corner, No. 14, Third Floor,

Unit 3, No 14, North Mojahed Kabir Blvd, Laleh St, South Exp, Hemat Exp.Tehran.IRAN

Do you have any question?

021-47289

Our email

Info@parsisaviation.com

https://parsisaviation.com/

[letsgoshadows]

Don’t Cry Out

The Shadow Company is an elite party of cherry picked soldiers from a dozen global agencies. They ran the missions no one else wanted, no one else could handle. That’s what everyone told him. Over and over. They’re fearless and ruthless, to a man.

None of that explains in the slightest why he’s struggling his way down a dark hall at an unholy hour, talking himself calm like a scared horse and dribbling blood onto his nice sweater. 

Well, it was nice an hour ago. Or maybe two. He wasn’t sure when he’d run into the Commander. When he’d caught him.

The only real time on base to find any quiet was before dawn. Activity never truly halted and people without anything to do in the morning were always up late, but this was not a life that rewarded all nighters and the morning shift wouldn’t be up until after four. That left a workable sliver of darkness for people like him to find a little privacy in. For meetings you don’t want anyone else to know about, the things you don’t want to see yourself.

As far north as they are, he’d be in the dark for a while longer yet, too. Back home, when he was young— and when did he stop being?— it felt like it would be dark forever sometimes. Dead of winter, when the street lights would go off before he left for school, but the clouds were so tight they kept the streets pitch dark.

It was scary then, when he didn’t know what was out there, but it could well be worse now that he does. Now that he works with them, is one, now that he’s let one—

He’s halfway back to his room when the thoughts trip him, one foot catching on the other and sending him toppling towards the floor.

He avoids landing on his face or striking his head into the wall, but lacks the coordination for a roll and takes it on his bruised wrists instead. 

Moaning quietly, he pushes himself up from the floor, first to a kneel and then to a sit when kneeling starts to feel a lot like tipping. He’d just take a moment to catch his breath, then when the world righted itself he’d go on his way.

Xavier licks the blood from his teeth thoughtfully, still tasting the whiskey neither he or she had been drinking, as he pushes himself up to sit against the wall. He spares a glance to the rusty streak he’d left on the wall with the sweater cuff he’d been wiping his mouth with. He’d only just begun the mental calculations on if it was worth it to try and clean it himself, or leave it and apologize later, when the adrenaline starts to fade.

The adrenaline fades and with it, whatever energy he’d not just put into… what was her name, again? 

Something with an S. Sylvia? Cynthia? That was a C, but it made an S-sound so he’s sure some girls spell it that way. Maybe she did. 

He lets out a quiet laugh and runs his hands through his hair as he tips forward into his knees. God, he felt sick. Not from the alcohol, not from the split lip. 

He didn’t always feel this bad afterwards. It wasn’t always this bad. 

But Ph— the Commander, he’d been in a mood. A sharing mood, but not the generous kind. He wanted to be shared with. 

He’d been on two dates with her. ‘Dates’, meaning he saw her at a bar on two separate occasions and they went home together.

The third… he’d made the mistake of going back to base. Strictly speaking, they weren’t supposed to. And nothing started off a day worse than being dressed down in front of everyone and last night’s beau, but it was closer than hers and he was already edging into exhaustion— the drive shift on the main convoy truck was leaning left and he had to re-check all of the C4 charges before anyone could leave base with them— so he thought…

He thought it would be fine.

She’d seemed to have found it charming, at least. The look and the edge appealed, rather than repelled, like it had some others. She’d waved at the men she passed when they whistled, giggled and fit herself into his arms with a whispered oo-rah!

The difference usually didn’t matter to civvies, so he didn’t bother to tell her that that was a Marine thing and that he was a gun for hire.

A gun for hire with a boss who liked to—

“Corporal Wolffe?” The voice makes him jump to attention, as much as he can sprawled on the linoleum tiles. It takes his vision a moment to focus, to pick out anything recognizable on the tower of black at the end of the hall, and in that time Shadow 0-2 crosses it soundlessly to stand before him. 

“Yes?” He tries for pleasant. He doesn’t smile, though, no matter how the reflex might want to. No need to open up his lip worse than it already is. 

They shake their head and get to a knee between his legs, sweeping their gaze over him. He feels very suddenly that he’s walked into a far greater danger than he realized, as they peel off one glove and take his jaw in their palm. It sets off a chaotic mix of responses in his brain, half saying to lean into the touch and the other half whispering to run. 

“Who did this to you?” They wipe at the blood with their thumb, tilting their head for a better look.

He opens his mouth to try and explain, excuses falling out half chewed onto his lap. Their eyes drop down, down to his halfway re-tucked shirt with the little flecks of blood on the collar and— oh he hoped he’d zipped his pants up. Had he even undone them? Or had he just yanked them off and thrown them to the side? He realizes now that he’s missing his belt. 

He feels them tense before he sees it, soft fingertips suddenly pressing in hard before withdrawing, then pulling away from him entirely. They curl it to their chest like they’ve been burned.

“Did— are you hurt otherwise?” He shakes his head and prays they don’t ask him for proof.

“LT, I appreciate the concern, I do, but I’m fine. Promise.” He flashes a smile before he can recall the blood in his mouth and he watches whatever warmth was left in their expression flee.

They reach out to lay a hand on him again, but stop with a flinch and withdraw it to pull down their mask and goggles instead. 

He hadn’t ever seen their face properly before. Caught a glimpse before, what feels like years ago, but hems never looked them in the eyes this way. 

They’re pale and tired looking, with a line between the eyes you aren’t supposed to have until you’re older and have more reasons to frown. They have freckles, pale ones you wouldn’t see unless you were this close, big, dark eyes that watched him carefully and short, strawberry blond eyelashes.

Kind of pretty, in a boyish way, he thinks idly. Then the neurons connect for the shortest moment.

“Oh,” he breathes. That’s— that’s why. 

They sigh, fingers rubbing across their nose beneath their glasses the way he’d seen before, when the Commander had his back turned.

“You’re clearly not alright, so I won’t ask that. But are you…”

They hesitate, tensing visibly as they meet his eyes.

“Can I do something for you?” I know what it’s like, they don’t say.

But in a way, that’s a bigger relief than anything they could slap on a wound. 

“I’m alright, really,” he grunts, pushing himself up to sit proper. “A hand up, maybe?”

“Next time,” they say like they know there’s going to be one. “If you need any help— a-and you don’t feel safe going to the medic…”

“Call me. Or find me.”

He blinks.

“I’m sure you have more important things to do than look after one person, Boss.”

“You’re a member of this company, a good one. It is my responsibility to make sure that you’re as well as you can be. Whatever that means.”

Whatever that means. He wonders what else they’ve had to do. 

“Okay?” They prompt, some of that military firmness returning.

“Okay,” he replies, and it earns him a smile. Small, but enough to make their cheeks dimple.

“Alright.” They tug their mask back up and rise to their feet, offering him a hand once they’re up. The hands that wrap his wrist are far warmer than he’d expected. On the exposed tips of their fingers, he catches a glimpse of a dark eye looking back at him.

He half expects it to wink.

More reasonably expected, it just withdraws with the hand it’s stenciled onto and disappears into a glove within their folded arms.

“With that said, I do also have to be the RA here, and tell you to get to bed.” Gladly. He’ll put the night behind him, even if the events stick around longer.

“Yep yep!” He echoes, a little too loud for the hour of night. It makes them laugh, just once and quickly hidden behind a hand, but he does it. 

“Be careful, Wolffe.” They pat his shoulder. “People around here are quick to the smell of blood.”

That, he knows well, but perhaps it’s not as bad as it was.

[chikucabllp]

Hire the best cab services in Kolkata

‘City Of Joy’, the name says it all. Kolkata being the busiest city is still joyful. It’s Kolkata that has royal clubs and largest stadiums for sports. Many great personalities have taken birth on this land. Cultural capital of India is name given to Kolkata. As far as past is concerned, this city has restored it in a beautiful way. To explore Kolkata you would definitely need a trustable cab services which can provide exact and right guidance about the city. As there are many options for cab services available, so finding the trustable one is a bit confusing. Need not to worry, Chiku Cab will always be your right choice as our cab services in Kolkata are the most trusted services. We have attained much positive feedback from our customers.

Online booking in few simple steps

Reserving a taxi online with Chiku Cab is a easy going procedure. One can visit our website www.chikucab.com, call on 844-844-5504 or download mobile app Chiku Cab. We can book the taxi from all three sources. The procedure for booking online includes few simple steps:

Visit our website www.chikucab.com and you will find form that needs to be fill.

Select the kind of service you want to opt for from the list mentioned like outstation, local, airport.

Then select the city and date of your travel along with other information.

Select the payment option from the difference modes of payment available.

At last confirm you’re booking, you will receive a message or email from our side for the confirmation of your booking.

Outstation cabs easily available

Kolkata is well connected with its nearby places. So, one can easily book outstation cabs from Kolkata to explore these beautiful nearby places. Services from Chiku Cab not confined till city area but we do serve well for outstation travels. Options for nearby best place to visit includes: Sundarbans, Digha, Santiniketan, Mayapur, Barrackpore, Piyali Island, Kamarpukur, Bardhaman, Navadvipa and Bakkhali. Our trained driver will make you explore these beautiful places and even guide you about places which serves traditional and tasty food. Our team member will always be there for your any kind of help. He/she will even track your travel for safety purposes. The efforts by our team members will make your trip a special one.

Kolkata’s tourist spot

Howrah Bridge: Situated on the river Hooghly, this bridge is considered as the national landmark of the country. This bridge is also known as RabindraSetu named after most famous personality Rabindra Nath Tagore.

Victoria Memorial: Located on the plains of the bank of river Hooghly. This was constructed in 1921. The museum is dedicated to Queen Victoria. It is built in Mughal and British style architecture.

Eden Garden: It is massive ground where many national and international cricket matches takes place. It is the third largest cricket ground in the world.

Park Street: It is also known as Food Street. It is famous for local cuisines and street side stall food.It is a saying that this street never sleeps. It is one of the major attractions in Kolkata.

Dakshineswar Kali Temple: Built in 1847 to the north of the city, the temple is in association with Shri Ramkrishna Mission. Explore these amazing places in Kolkata with the trustable taxi service in Kolkata.