#our loft in brooklyn

[phoenix-joy]

Excerpt:

Edel said the archives were founded because she and members of a group called the Gay Academic Union, which worked to make academia more accepting of LGBTQ people in the ‘70s, began talking about how difficult it was to find reliable information about lesbian history. 

“A few of us said, ‘Hey, why don’t we just start collecting our history? We’re the ones who best know what we need, what we want. Why let other people do that for us, because they’ll control our history?’” recalled Edel, who now splits her time between New Jersey and Arizona with her partner. “We were all people who really knew that our history was disappearing too quickly.”

[...]

The Lesbian Herstory Archives hosts a variety of events, such as a weekly “Lez Craft!” night on Thursdays. For its 50th anniversary, the organization is hosting a “Dyke Prom” in May at a loft in Brooklyn, though Edel noted that the event is already sold out. 

When asked about goals for the next 50 years, she said the archives have outgrown the Brooklyn space and will need to move soon.

“Fifty years is too hard to say,” Edel said. “We leave that in the hands of the next generation. I certainly won’t be around, and I’m just hoping that it still will be mission-driven so that we reflect the amazing complexity of our communities.” /endquote

Photos from article:

[celandeline]

Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (29)

Farleigh and I leave Saltburn with little fanfare. No one sees us out the door, and we have to get a cab to get to the airport. We sit the eight hours of the flight mostly in silence.

It’s strange to be back home, after a year away - after the tumultuous summer. Back in Brooklyn, Cambridge and Saltburn seem so far away, almost in a different world. It seems more like a book I read rather than the past year of my life - but the illusion is broken by Farleigh’s footsteps behind me as we lug our bags up the stairs to my apartment. It’s real - it was real and Farleigh is here with me.

At the top of the stairs, I stop, setting down my bag to dig in the pocket of my jeans for my keys. I slot the key into the lock, and shoulder the door open.

My apartment is exactly the same as I left it a year ago - a time capsule to before. I reach back into the hall to grab my bag and tug it inside, holding the door open so Farleigh can slide inside as well. I let the door shut, and watch as he takes in the room. Just him being here makes everything I own seem so small. 

“This is it.” I say, trying for a smile. “I know it’s way smaller than what you’re used to-”

Farleigh turns to look at me. “It’s nice.” He says. “It suits you.”

I set my bag down, and clap my hands together. “Kitchen’s there-” I point to the left, to the kitchenette, the fridge covered in stickers and magnets. A little glass-top table sits a few feet away, two teal chairs tucked under the edges. “Bed- well, it’s a mattress on the floor, but it’s a queen! Up there-” I point to the loft, and the ladder up to it that serves as a wall between the kitchen and the living room. “Living room under that-”, I gesture to the space under the loft, to the mismatched collection of couches and chairs around my coffee table, “And bathroom is that door.” I point to the door underneath the loft, on the far side of the room. 

Farleigh nods along to my standing tour, and then glances down to his bag. “Where-?”

“You can just leave it there, um, I’ll make room for you to put your stuff in the drawers.” I say. “We should talk about-”

“Rules and stuff.” Farleigh finishes the sentence for me. “Yeah.”

I sit down at my little glass top table, and Farleigh takes the seat opposite. I run a finger through the thin layer of dust that’s gathered on the glass, tracing little designs. “So.”

“So.” Nerves hang on the edge of Farleigh’s voice. 

I glance up at him. “What are you nervous about?”

“I’ve never done this before.” He says. “I don’t- I’ve never had a job. I’ve never had to go get my own food.” He laughs. “God- I’m fucking pathetic. And scared.” His voice turns raw, honest. “I don’t want to end up like my mom.”

With all that I’ve been through in the last few days, I didn’t think it was possible to have my heart break anymore, but it does. “Look,” I say, smiling, reaching across the table to take his hands in mine. “It’ll be hard. Living like this is almost the exact opposite of Saltburn. But we’ll make it work. Obviously, since you’re living here, I expect you to pitch in with the rent and utilities and all-”

“‘Course.” He says.

“-and don’t worry about getting a job. I’ll get you a job. I can’t promise that it’ll be super fulfilling work, but I know plenty of guys that will give you a job. And with the cooking and cleaning and all, we can trade off. Split it up so that it’s even. Obviously, I don’t expect you to just become totally self-sufficient overnight, that’s crazy,” I laugh. “But I can help you. Okay?”

“Okay.” He smiles. 

“And another thing.” I say, a spike of nervousness turning my stomach. “Just because we’re living together and sleeping in the same bed and everything doesn’t mean that I’m expecting us to be together. I get that it was just going to be a summer fling-”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Farleigh interrupts me. “If we got together together.”

“Farleigh,” I sigh. “Neither of us are in the right piece of mind to be making decisions like that right now - you just got kicked out of your house, someone just died-”

“I know.” He amends quickly. “I’m not saying like, right now, but in the future. If this works out and I can manage living like a normal person.”

“I think you totally can.” I say. “If the rest of the world manages, I think you can.”

“I know.” He says, running his thumb over the back of my hand. “It’s just-”

“I know.” I say. “It’ll be a learning curve.”

A semi-silence descends, and I trace a game of tic-tac-toe in the dust on the table, breaking the serious tension. Farleigh grins, and draws an ‘X’ in the top left corner. It’s weird, hearing the sounds of the city after spending so long in England, where the most commotion I ever heard was the occasional rumble of a truck down the road. It’s comforting though - to be back in the city where I belong. To hear the cars on the street and the chatter from the sidewalks. The thought of being able to get a bodega sandwich again alleviates some of the horror that still lingers from the way things ended at Saltburn. 

Farleigh’s lips tilt down into a frown as I block him again. He glances up at me as he draws an ‘X’ in one of the two remaining spaces. It’s clear no one will win this game. “Thank you.”

I finish off the board, and then wipe it away with a broad sweep of my hand. “For?”

“Letting me live with you.” He says. “I mean, you barely know me, Eves. That’s insane, to just be like ‘yeah, come live with me’.”

“Where else would you have gone?”

He shrugs.

I tilt my head, rising from my seat. “Exactly.” I say. “You’ve never had to take care of yourself - you’d die, if you were just left to your own devices on the street. I care about you enough that I don’t want to see you dead in a ditch somewhere.”

His lips quirk up into a grin. “Thanks.”

I ruffle his hair as I dart behind him, kneeling down to get into one of the kitchen cabinets, pulling out my collection of cleaning supplies. “Now- lesson number one in how to be a normal person.” I place a can of Lysol wipes in front of him. “Cleaning.” I stand up. “This place is covered in dust.”

Farleigh grabs the canister. “Right. Cleaning.” Already, he looks utterly lost - but he has the spirit. 

I smile. I can make this work.

< previous part | next part >

[theskeptileptic]

Chapter 21 includes:

- serenading with Beatles’ songs

- fancy cars (1)

- fancy lofts (1)

- hair washing

- hair drying

- soup and garlic butter

- brooklyn nine-nine

- confessions (kind of)

- smoking

- texts

- 🏃‍♂️💨

[just-jordie-things]

Broken by lovelytheband -> Gojo Satoru

This has come on in the car this morning when I drove to work and it just SCREAMED Gojo fucking Satoru to me.

I met you late night, at a party Some trust fund baby's Brooklyn loft By the bathroom, you said, "Let's talk" But my confidence is wearing off

Okay, this doesn't have to be some trust fund party or anything, let's just interpret this as some gathering for Higher Ups in Jujutsu Society, cause I know fully well Gojo would only show up to annoy everyone and then yeet. But guess what, you're there and he can't remember seeing you before. Turns out you hate all the higher ups, spent most of your time overseas and only recently came back to Japan.

Well, these aren't my people, these aren't my friends She grabbed my face and that's when she said I like that you're broken, broken like me Maybe that makes me a fool I like that you're lonely, lonely like me I could be lonely with you

We all know Gojo is secretly really lonely. That's why he clings to Nanami, that's why he's so into Megumi's life, that's why he hangs out with Yuji and Nobara more than a teacher. He's seeing something in them that reminds him of his youth, something that reminds him of when he was less lonely.

To me that's also another reason why he was so close to Suguru. Both of them were regarded as the strongest, therefore lonely by default. I feel for Suguru it might have been even harder at times considering he comes from a family of non-sorcerers. He didn't have anyone he could ask about sorcery and cures and such.

But then again, this is what bothers Gojo the most, that he's lonely deep inside, which he doesn't like to show. But once he meets someone who seems fine but actually is just as broken and lonely inside, I feel he would be taken by surprise and it would be hard for him not to open up and finally let everything out.

There's something tragic, but almost pure Think I could love you, but I'm not sure There's something wholesome, there's something sweet Tucked in your eyes that I'd love to meet

Those lines are so fucking gut wrenching to me. It displays the way you argue with yourself. You want to be close to someone, you want to be vulnerable but you're not sure. You know it's wholesome and heartwarming but at the same time its tragic and traumatic due to past experiences. Are you willing to overcome those past traumas and go for it? Gojo's not sure, but there's just something so sweet in your eyes that he can't let go.

Life is not a love song that we like We're all broken pieces floating by Life is not a love song we can try To fix our broken pieces one at a time

This is Gojo's conclusion. Love is the most twisted curse. But life without love is lonely, he knows that more than anyone. Even if he'd argue with himself, eventually I think he would take the jump, knowing that he risks getting hurt again.

~ Nanami Flowershop Anon

ooh i'll have to listen to this song it sounds sad asf and i vibe with that (i get in my best writing zones with sad songs playing!!!)

but this is perfect and so fitting, i would love a full fic of thissss

[wtfuckevenknows]

One Hundred Ways to say “I love you,” #18 for Tarlos please!

Hello friends, welcome back, I finally managed to finish the first One Hundred Ways to Say ‘I Love You’ prompt and I present to you another screenshot of @noxsoulmate and my conversation about the length of this prompt.........

This one now sits at 1.6k and I don't think a single one of these will stay between 100-200 words so I'm officially giving up on that notion, we all know I'm way to fucking wordy!!!

Thanks @paperstorm for the quick *cough* beta, because as always it takes a goodamn village! ❤️😘 (writing in a language that is not your first language is fucking stupid)

You can now also read it on ao3 here.

18 “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

TK was curled up on their couch at the loft, wrapped up in his favorite blanket, watching Brooklyn 99, a show that was fun and lighthearted and reminded him a bit of home and he would never admit this to Carlos but maybe he did have a bit of a thing for cops in general, not just his husband.

Carlos absolutely judged TK for liking it and wouldn’t be caught dead watching, so TK reserved watching the show for nights he spent alone when Carlos was on shift or meeting up with some of his friends. 

There was a bottle of mineral water on the table, as well as a couple of empty sushi containers.

Carlos had been out celebrating passing the detective exam with some of his colleagues, soon to be ex-colleagues, for a couple of hours when TK’s phone rang. 

It was Lexi, who asked him to come pick up his drunk husband. In the background he could hear Carlos yelling something he couldn't quite make out and it made him smile. 

Carlos didn't get drunk very often, only sometimes when they went out partying with the whole gang, which admittedly didn't happen as often as it used to these days. Carlos was a happy and loud drunk, letting go of some of his inhibitions when under the influence. 

After promising Lexi he'd be there soon and hanging up the phone, he threw on a hoodie and a pair of comfortable sneakers and made his way to the bar by foot. Living downtown definitely had its perks and he hoped walking home in the fresh, clear night air would help Carlos sober up a bit. If he was too drunk, they could always take an uber back to the loft. 

Entering the bar he could hear Carlos laughing loudly over all the other noise. With a grin on his face, he made his way to where he could see the police officers occupying a booth. 

Carlos looked like he was having fun. His hair wasn't fully gelled down anymore, the curls coming out to play. There was a flush high on his cheeks and his eyes were a bit glazed over but still sparkly. He had rolled up the sleeves of his long sleeved denim shirt, the top two buttons undone, giving TK a peek of his white undershirt. He was smiling brightly, while intently listening to something one of his colleagues was saying.

Shortly before he reached them Carlos spotted him, his face going soft and he very loudly exclaimed, “TK, baby, you're here!”

TK couldn't help but chuckle, replying “Yes, Carlos, I’m here to take you home.” 

Carlos looked up at him in confusion, rapidly blinking a couple of times before looking between him and his colleagues like he was watching a tennis match. Then he shrugged his shoulders, his gaze finally settling back on TK, before breaking out into a dopey grin. 

“I love going home with you. I love our home and I love you. You’re the best husband!” 

Lexi was openly laughing at Carlos now, gently pushing him out of the booth and into TK’s waiting arms. “Go home Reyes, be disgustingly in love with your husband behind closed doors.”

“It’s Strand-Reyes,” Carlos corrected his partner, looking every bit as offended as he sounded. 

Lexi raised her arms in surrender. “Sorry.” 

She didn't look very sorry to TK, but Carlos’ focus had already shifted back to him as he was now pulling TK closer to him with a hand that had somehow found its way to his ass. 

Carlos whisper yelled, “I can't wait to get home and do very naughty things to you,” into TK’s ear and TK quickly steered Carlos away from his colleagues, yelling “Bye” over his shoulder as he started moving them towards the exit. 

Carlos was stumbling a bit for the first couple of steps, but soon found his footing with an arm thrown across TK’s shoulders to help him balance. 

Once they made it outside Carlos sucked in a deep breath, the cold night air hitting him, and he pressed himself even closer to his husband, seeking his warmth. 

TK somehow managed to roll down the sleeves of Carlos' shirt, despite Carlos making it very difficult by not letting go of him during this endeavor. Carlos gave his cheek a sloppy wet kiss in thanks, making TK chuckle again, before he pulled his husband along in the direction of their home.

Carlos was making it hard to walk, clinging to TK like the affectionate drunk that he was, making TK debate calling that uber for a second before deciding they weren't in a hurry and could walk home at snail's pace. 

Every couple of steps Carlos would bestow kisses upon his husband, or try to feel TK up in the middle of the sidewalk. TK didn't really mind, he had a little bit of an exhibitionist streak in him after all, he was rather amused at his husbands antics, who wouldn't normally be so bold in public.

By the time they made it into the elevator of their building, TK’s plan had worked and Carlos had sobered up a bit. Enough so that he wasn't leaning against him as heavily as before.

Once TK pressed the button to their floor, his back hit the wall of the elevator and it took his mind a second to catch up to the fact that Carlos had moved them and pressed him up against the mirror. He was also slotting a leg in between TK’s thighs, rutting against him rather urgently while capturing TK’s lips in a fiery kiss. 

Apparently Carlos wasn't just affectionate but also horny tonight. Not that TK thought he could get it up right now, he hadn't sobered up that much.

He returned the kiss with just as much passion, only pulling back when the elevator dinged with their arrival. 

TK pushed Carlos back, his husband letting out a needy whimper that TK tried to soothe by saying “Come on, let’s get you into the loft, the bed is much more comfortable than the elevator.” Carlos didn't need to know that he meant for sleeping and not any sexy times. 

With some difficulties due to Carlos hanging off of him, TK finally managed to unlock the door and deposited Carlos on the bed, telling him to not fall asleep yet, before making his way into the kitchen to grab him a glass of water and some tylenol. 

By the time TK made his way back into their bedroom, he could hear Carlos snoring softly. He had to laugh. So much for doing naughty things to me, TK thought to himself, having predicted this exact outcome. 

Shaking his head while gazing fondly at his husband, he carefully removed Carlos' shoes and clothes. Once he was down to only his boxer briefs, he hauled Carlos up onto his pillow and tried to wake him up so he wouldn't have a massive hangover tomorrow but to no avail. 

TK pressed a gentle kiss to Carlos' curls before tucking him in, then he got ready for bed himself, joining Carlos in bed soon after. 

In the early hours of the next morning TK woke up to Carlos groaning in his sleep. This time he was able to wake him up long enough for him to swallow the tylenol and chase it with some water, before he promptly fell asleep again. Thankfully his stomach seemed to hold strong for now. 

When TK woke up later to sunlight, Carlos was still fast asleep beside him. His husband was usually the first to wake, but it seemed the alcohol made him sleep in for once. 

Him still feeling the effects of the alcohol would probably also mean that Carlos would wake up with one hell of a hangover, even though he finally took the tylenol earlier, so TK racked his brain to remember some of the hangover cures his friends had mentioned. 

TK got up and showered, before preparing breakfast and it was nearly noon by the time he could hear a pitiful “TK” being called from their bedroom.   

Carlos looked a little worse for wear but he wasn't running off to the bathroom so TK sent a silent thanks up toward the heavens for small miracles. 

“Hey baby.” TK spoke softly as to not aggravate the headache Carlos probably had, entering their bedroom with a glass in his hands. 

He sat down on the edge of the bed, right next to Carlos, gently running his fingers through Carlos’ curls in a soothing motion. 

“Sit up for a second, babe,” TK said and once Carlos sluggishly complied he pressed the glass into Carlos hands. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

Carlos did as he was told without second thought, his paramedic husband surely knew what he was talking about. He took a big sip before spewing it back out, sputtering “Ew, TK! What the fuck is that?!” 

“Pickle juice. You like pickles, you should drink up. It really helps with a hangover, I remember one of my friends from New York used to swear by this hangover cure.” 

“That is disgusting. I think your friend might have been trolling you. I’m not drinking that. Get it away from me,” Carlos pleaded with TK, handing the glass back. 

“Your loss. Do you want me to bring you another tylenol?” TK asked. 

“Yes, please.” Carlos groaned, before letting himself fall back onto his pillow. 

When TK returned he made Carlos sit up again so he could take the painkiller. He also brought a plate with buttered toast that he made him eat. Carlos complained and whined about it, but once he was horizontal again and TK had joined him back in bed he contently snuggled up to the best husband in the world.

Send me more One Hundred Ways to Say ‘I Love You’ prompts please!

[seaside-writings]

I hope this prompt list brings you inspiration wherever it is needed, and like always if you do use these prompts please tag me so I can see what you’ve made!

I hope you all stay blessed and safe throughout your day.

Lots of Love & Wishes: Celia 💙🎵

🎵 “I like that you're broken, broken like me; maybe that makes me a fool,”

🎵 “There's something tragic, but almost pure,”

🎵 “I met you late night, at a party, some trust fund baby's Brooklyn loft,”

🎵 “Think I could love you, but I'm not sure,”

🎵 “These aren't my people, these aren't my friends,”

🎵 “Life is not a love song that we like, we're all broken pieces floating by,”

🎵 “There's something wholesome, there's something sweet, tucked in your eyes that I'd love to meet,”

🎵 “She grabbed my face and that's when she said…”

🎵 “By the bathroom, you said, "Let's talk" but my confidence is wearing off,”

🎵 “Life is not a love song we can try to fix our broken pieces one at a time,”

🎵 “I like that you're lonely, lonely like me; I could be lonely with you,”

[breakerwhiskey]

085 - EIGHTY-FIVE

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey.

Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

[click, static]

Harry was right. Santa Fe is gorgeous.

You know, being here, thinking about it being Harry’s favorite, thinking about the fact that she could be here, right now, with me, and she’s not…

(sighs) It wasn’t…it wasn’t all bad. That’s what I’ve been thinking about. Since I arrived, since going to the art museum, it’s like I see her around every corner, and I imagine what she’d look like going through the galleries, or pointing out the unique architecture, or insisting we find ingredients to make one of her favorite Santa Fe meals, whatever that might be.

It’s—it’s made me—I’ve been remembering the good times, I guess is how you’d put it. There was this one time, before everything happened actually, before that last job, way before—

Richie had this unbelievably shitty loft in Alphabet City. Barely any heat, exposed wires, groaning pipes, warped glass in the old windows, just the whole thing. He was the only one of us who lived on the East side—even me of the unpermanent address tended to stick West—but he was also the only one who owned his place. Well, and Pete. We were all pretty sure that Pete owned a whole fucking brownstone in Brooklyn, but we were never able to confirm it. He was pretty secretive about his personal life.

But, anyway, Richie would sometimes let me crash at his loft and he had us all over with some degree of regularity—the place was huge, so great for big parties. The crew wasn’t big of course, but he’d invite all his weird beatnik friends and Harry would bring her art friends and Don would bring the guys he grew up with who’d always have some kind of Italian fruitcake with them and Pete and I would stand in the corner friendless and drinking heavily.

And one night, we’d all been there for hours and the crowd had dwindled and it was really just us and Don was doing his truly awful Perry Como impression and Harry and I were on the couch just…in stitches. And I think both of us were pretty sauced by that point, because once Don took mercy on all of us and stopped, someone had the brilliant idea of doing a game of charades. Harry and I were on the same team and we just…I don’t know, it was fun. It was really fun. We kicked everyone’s asses, it was…we were so in sync, it was strange. But Harry didn’t make fun of me for my pedestrian choices of what to act out and she didn’t pick anything that she knew I wouldn’t get and it was like…

“Oh. This is what it could be like if we were nice to each other. I didn’t expect it to feel this wonderful”

Anyway, then we sobered up and everyone went home and I passed out on Richie’s couch and then I didn’t see Harry again until our next job nearly two months later. And it was like that night had never happened. She was just as cold and condescending as ever. And I was just as snide as I always was.

But for that one night…I don’t know, it felt good. It felt like how things were supposed to be.

With your mysterious job and all, I wonder if you had any friends in it. If you ever goofed around with them. Or if it was all serious, all the time.

It must have been, right? If it went as badly as you say, hurt people, it must have been serious right?

I mean, I dn't know why I’m even asking, I—

[click, static]

I still don’t trust you, but not talking to you is worse.

[click, static]

[beeps]

.. - / ... - .. .-.. .-.. / -- .- - - . .-. ...

It still matters

[kayhi808]

More Than Our Scars - Part 12

You wake up & notice Bill isn't in bed with you. You roll over to his side of the bed & hug his pillow to you, inhaling the smell of him. It's of expensive cologne & a scent that's uniquely Bill. You can't help the smile that springs to your lips. There's a freeing of your spirit that you've never experienced before. Now that you can admit you love this man more than any other person in the world.

Before you were taken, you were a chef at an Italian restaurant in the DUMBO area of Brooklyn, renting a small studio within walking distance from work. You enjoyed cooking, it was your passion. You dreamed of taking courses in Italy, but that never came about. Magically, any time you were able to build up a nest egg, your father would come around begging for money. You'd feel guilty so you'd help him out, always swearing it would be the last time. Until that dreaded night, Kingpin had men pick you up off the streets on your walk back home from the restaurant. That was the start of your nightmare.

You never guessed that 3 years later, you'd be in love & loved by Billy Russo. Your worlds were so separate. Your paths should never have crossed, but it did.

Clutching his pillow, you realize that its cold and you notice his side of the bed hasn't been slept in. Did he not come to bed? Did he fall asleep on the couch? You hurry out of bed & go explore the loft. "Bill?" It's empty. There's no note. No text message. You curl up on the couch, biting a hangnail debating whether to call him or not. Why would he leave in the middle of the night and not tell you? Do you have a right to ask him? Is that being clingy? NO. He left you alone in the middle of the night. If the tables were turned he'd go ballistic.

You hear the key in the door & you see Bill walk in dressed in tactical gear..is that dirt? Wait, is that blood?! "B...Bill?"

"Hey, sweetheart." He drops his duffle on the floor & locks up. "I'm sorry. I thought I'd be home a lot sooner."

"Is that b...blood? Are you hurt?!" You start towards him but stop, not sure if he wants you near, but your eyes start prickling with tears. You wrap your arms around yourself trying not to freak out.

"Baby, I'm fine. I promise. It's not my blood." He holds his hands up in surrender & you notice his hands are bloody, too.

You can't help but cry now. "What's happening? Where'd you go?? Why..." you shake your head at him.

"Let me get cleaned up, ok? I can explain everything, sweetheart, don't cry." He starts to walk back to his room, but stops & nods his head towards the back of the loft, "Come with me. It's ok." He picks up his duffle & you follow.

He puts his duffle in his walk-in closet & heads to the bathroom. He takes off his shirt & washes his hands & face in the sink. Once his hands & face is free from blood, you notice his knuckles torn up and raw. He walks to you, cradles your face in his clean hands & leans in to kiss you. "Please don't cry, I'm not hurt. I'm fine."

"You are hurt." You try not to cry as you grab his wrists.

"Let me shower & I'll tell you everything. I swear, ok?" You nod but not wanting to let him go. He turns the water on to the shower & you leave giving him his privacy. You go out to the living room and give in to your tears, since Bill is in the shower & can't hear you.

Once he's done with his shower, he come over to you on the couch & pulls you to him, tucking you under his chin & his arms holding you to his chest. "I didn't want you to worry, so I didn't say anything. I'm sorry. I should have been upfront with you from the beginning. It won't happen again." Sighs,  "We went out to do some recon on Fisk. It was supposed to be basic surveillance."

"Surveillance doesn't end up in bloodshed. What happened?" you fist his shirt in your hands & he rubs the back of your hand to calm you. You stare at his bloody knuckles.

"I know, I know. James Wesley was on your list." You struggle to get up, the chill of fear snakes down your spine."Shhhh. Shhhh. It's ok. He won't ever hurt you again."

You breathe out, "Billy. What did you do?"

"You told me he was one of the men that hurt you. An opportunity presented itself....I neutralized the treat."

You lift your head up to look at him, "Neutralized. Bill."

"I killed him. He made you bleed, so I made him bleed."

You gasp, "Billy, no!" His eyes turn hard & he shrugs. "James was Wilson's right hand man. You...He..." Billy silences you with a kiss. "You've started a war with Fisk"

"I know what I'm doing. He tried killing me & 8 of my men. That alone calls for his death. But what he did to you...." Billy captures your mouth in a tender kiss, brushing his thumbs gently against your cheeks. "That earned him a drawn out & painful one. He doesn't get turned into the authorities. I'm his judge, jury & executioner."

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

[wedesignyouny]

Atlas NYC Property Management, LLC: A Guide to Brooklyn Real Estate Management Company

Choosing the Best Management Company with Atlas NYC: A Guide to Brooklyn's Real Estate Landscape

Brooklyn, a borough known for its rich cultural diversity, has a real estate market that is just as dynamic as its districts. The search for the ideal partner can be intimidating for property owners looking for first-rate management services. Here's Atlas NYC, your go-to resource for first-rate Brooklyn real estate management.

Comprehending the Real Estate Dynamics of Brooklyn

Brooklyn's real estate landscape is diverse and rich, ranging from the brownstone-lined streets of Park Slope to the industrial-chic lofts of Williamsburg. Every area has a distinct personality and draws a particular set of people. Navigating this terrain as a property owner demands skill and a sophisticated awareness of regional patterns.

A Premier Real Estate Management Company's Function

At Atlas NYC, we understand that Brooklyn property management necessitates a customized strategy. Our all-inclusive service package is designed to satisfy the various requirements of landlords:

1. Acquiring and Maintaining Tenants

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[stanathanxoox]

Only A Couple More Hours

gif not mine

Like magnets they moved together, pressing into each other's warmth. - Adrian Raines x MC

You were standing behind him, each time he moved you did too, leaning against him as he worked diligently on the newest project for Raines corp. It was like the two of you had some sort of magnetic pull towards each, pressing further into each others warmth after being separated for over 72 hours whilst he had flown to France and you had stayed behind to be with Lula and to support Jax with the clanless rebuild. You nuzzled closer, inhaling his scent and you can feel his intake of breath as he turns slightly in your arms and looks at you and smiles

“My sweet Y/N, only a couple more hours and then we can go back to the loft and do what our hearts desire” you catch the way his eyes a light with hunger, the same type of hunger that you had been feeling for him since laying eyes on him just over three years ago.

“I can’t wait” you whisper as you lean in and place a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Tag List: @tiva-jenry-caskett-rizzles-densi​, @jimmybpride​, @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy​, @nikkiwierden​, @samchelforever007​, @kirkspockbones​, @xoncisxncislaxncisnolaox​, @lasalle-pride-sebastian-love​, @haliannej​, @brooklyn-99-amyxjake​​, @mizzezm​, @genius2050​, @twilight-twihard​, @cullencoven2019​, @wxlfgirlx​, @luciferxchloeislove​, @drethanramsey-ismybabe​, @sawyer-oakley-is-mighty-fine​, @loverofoneshots​, @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen​​

Tag List for Pixelberry fics: @cordoniaqueensworld​, @aworldoffandoms​, @desiree—1986​

Tag List for Blood Bound: @xmrsadrianrainesx​

Tag List for Adrian Raines: @krishu213​, @adrianrainesworld

[cityofdownwardspirals]

🥰 for prompts :)

🥰 - saying 'i love you' without saying it

Magnus could do this. He was the High Warlock of Brooklyn, he was centuries old, he had lived through wars and unimaginable dangers. He was not scared of facing another one.

But this one he would have to face alone.

And it is not like he hadn’t faced so many things alone. After all, loneliness was part of immortality. No matter how much Magnus had tried to change that, no matter how much he thought his relationships with fellow immortals could change that, he always ended up alone.

He had just thought that this time might be different. He’d thought that maybe, at least for the next decades, he would have Alec by his side as some sort of anchor.

He should have known better. Because now he was unfocused cause the only thing he could think about is Alec. Alec’s face when he found out Magnus had lied to him. The pain and the suffering Magnus had caused him.

And Alec said he forgave him, that it was okay. But Magnus couldn’t forgive himself for that, for hurting the one person who had made him feel alive again for the first time in a century. So he’d walked away.

He’d walked away not expecting to find his father waiting for him back at his loft in Brooklyn. Asmodeus was supposed to be banished to Edom forever and yet he had found a way out.

Magnus should have seen it coming. He knew his father and he knew to be on high alert especially in times like these when the Shadow World was basically falling apart. However, he couldn’t imagine what fool had helped Asmodeus out of Edom.

“I just have the same request I did centuries ago, my son,” the Prince of Hell said, circling around Magnus like a vulture ready to attack. “Join me. Become what you were always meant to be.”

“And I have the same answer for you I did all those years ago,” Magnus replied, blue sparks igniting at the tips of his fingers. “No.”

Asmodeus laughed at that and his red magic came to life, but, to Magnus’s surprise, it wasn’t an attack, it was a little vision that was coming to life in a bubble. “Except now, son, you have something you didn’t have all those years ago. You have an Achilles heel. You have someone you want to live for. And I bet you want him to live as well,” he spoke and then an image of Alec appeared in the bubble. He was sitting by himself in some restaurant, looking at his phone. “I have a hoard of demons ready to attack him. Of course, he will be left unharmed if you join me,” Asmodeus said, smiling sardonically.

Magnus was starring at the vision in horror. That was undeniably Alec, his Alec. And he knew Asmodeus wasn’t bluffing. His father never bothered with empty threats. “Leave him out of this,” the warlock warned.

His father, however, didn’t seem phased. “I don’t think I will. Because you are my son and I know you. And I know you would rather come with me than let him die. The choice is yours.”

Magnus thought that the fact he and Alec were in the middle of a fight would make the choice easier, but it didn’t. Because he knew that it wasn’t a choice between joining Asmodeus or letting Alec get killed. It was a choice between never seeing Alec again or letting Alec get killed. And he knew what he was going to choose from the start.

“Can I say goodbye?” Magnus said, his powers dying down. He knew that if he tried to attack his father, he wouldn’t hesitate killing Alec on the spot.

Asmodeus seemed to consider that. “I don’t trust that you won’t Portal him somewhere far far away. A fire message is all I can offer.”

Magnus gritted his teeth but nodded. So he started writing what he thought would be the last letter he would ever send to Alec, trying to put all his emotions down into words.

“Dear Alexander,

If our paths never cross again, know that it wasn’t your fault. If you hear about what happened to me, know that it wasn’t your fault. You deserve to live. The world needs you alive. I need you alive. And even if I am not with you, the thought that you are somewhere in this world making it a better place is enough to keep me going. I need you alive. You are the first person who has made me feel like I have a purpose in centuries and that is why I will keep fighting for you. I need you alive.

Love,

Magnus”

He sent off the message and then him and Asmodeus got around to talking about the formalities of their agreement. It couldn't not have been more than 5 minutes before Asmodeus started opening the gateway between their world and Edom for them to step through. However, after those two minutes, Magnus could feel someone trying to cross the wards around his apartment. Several people, actually.

Before Asmodeus could react, Alec stepped through the door, followed by Clary, Jace, Isabelle and Simon, all with their weapons ready.

It seems that opening a Portal to Edom seemed to be a task that required most of Asmodeus’s focus and his control over the Demons shadowing Alec had been broken.

"Just so you know," the archer said, aiming at the Prince of Hell in front of him, but talking to Magnus. "I need you alive too."

[nothingunrealistic]

New York City has been the backdrop for many TV series over the years, from “Law & Order” to “Sex and the City” to “Succession.” But the Showtime series “Billions,” which ends on Sunday after seven seasons, may have been the New Yorkiest of them all. It’s clear from the opening credits, which feature an eagle-eye’s view of Lower Manhattan — but no actors — that New York City is not merely a location but the star. The showrunners, Brian Koppelman and David Levien, planned it that way. “The city plays a central role on the show,” said Mr. Levien. “We always felt like being here and knowing the city was like our secret weapon.” Mr. Koppelman and Mr. Levien were both born on Long Island but eventually moved to New York City. (“Nothing makes you more desperate to be in Manhattan than growing up on Long Island,” Mr. Koppelman said.) The two first worked together on the screenplay for the 1997 film “Rounders,” set in the underground poker scene in New York, and they went on to collaborate on “Knockaround Guys,” “Runaway Jury,” “Solitary Man” and “Ocean’s Thirteen.” But “Billions” was their love letter to New York City. New York has been integral to the plot, which follows the endless battle between hedge fund billionaires (Bobby “Axe” Axelrod, played by Damian Lewis, and in later seasons, Mike Prince, played by Corey Stoll) and the U.S. attorney, Chuck Rhoades Jr. (played by Paul Giamatti).

The characters have visited hundreds of locations in the city, from the Thurgood Marshall United States Court House on Centre Street in Lower Manhattan to Morningside Castle in Morningside Heights and the Brooklyn Heights Promenade. Scenes have been filmed at MetLife Stadium in the Meadowlands, Barclays Center in Brooklyn, and Yonkers Raceway. “There was almost nowhere that we couldn’t shoot, that we wanted to,” Mr. Levien said. The neighborhoods where the “Billions” characters live also serve as shorthand for their personalities. Chuck’s father, Chuck Rhoades Sr., is an old school, blue-blood businessman, so naturally he lives on the wealthiest stretch of Fifth Avenue in Manhattan, not far from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Chuck Jr., whose positions as the U.S. attorney for the Southern District of New York (and New York attorney general) involve prosecuting financial crimes, lives in a Brooklyn brownstone (the exterior shots are of 49 Eighth Avenue, in Park Slope). “Chuck Sr. would not experiment with another neighborhood just because he could, financially,” said Mr. Koppelman. “He’s not going to go try a loft in TriBeCa.” And it makes sense that Chuck Jr. lives on an understated (but gorgeous) block outside Manhattan: “Chuck would have been a little bit rebellious to his dad’s ways,” Mr. Koppelman said. Brooklyn? “Senior thinks it’s like the frontier, basically.” Axe, the character played by Damian Lewis, is the CEO of Axe Capital, a multibillion-dollar hedge fund. His Manhattan home is an airy, light-filled penthouse, high above the city. “It’s this incredible glass box built on top of this building downtown in TriBeCa,” said Mr. Levien. “Because, you know, he is somebody that would go try some neighborhood, live where he wants, open himself up to new experiences.” The location was an actual apartment where the show filmed for a couple of years — and it impressed even the showrunners. “If you’re a New Yorker, it’s fascinating to walk through what a $60 million apartment is,” Mr. Koppelman said.

As die-hard denizens of New York City, the characters on “Billions” eat at all the best and most famous restaurants. There are scenes set inside upscale white-tablecloth rooms at expensive eateries like Keens Steakhouse, Babbo, Craft, Ai Fiori, Wolfgang’s Steakhouse, Michael’s, The Pool and Marea. But the characters also visit more humble spots: Wo Hop, Gray’s Papaya, Joe’s Pizza, Old Town Bar, Costello’s Claddagh Inn. There are new favorites (Una Pizza Napoletana) as well as New York classics, like Peter Luger’s, Cibao, Second Avenue Deli and Barney Greengrass. Mr. Koppelman said that for New Yorkers, food information is a valuable currency. “Finding the best bao is as important as finding the best four-star flambé or something,” he laughed. “The show was absolutely trying to show you the real thing over and over again each time. Where’s the best hot dog, where’s the best burger?” New York City chefs — including Daniel Boulud, David Chang, Kwame Onwuachi, Tom Colicchio, Alex Guarnaschelli — have made cameo appearances in “Billions,” weaving the show intricately into the food scene. (The show featured so many restaurants that someone wrote a book detailing the locations.) “Because we’re New Yorkers and we care about New York, we care about these restaurants, we care about these people, we want to find a way to showcase what they love about their place and what they do,” said Mr. Koppelman. (And at some restaurants, it’s not just the food that the characters are into: In the first episode of Season 4, Chuck Jr. and the police commissioner visit Sparks Steakhouse and re-enact the 1985 murder of Paul Castellano, the reputed boss of the Gambino crime family — a hit that an F.B.I. investigator said was arranged by John Gotti.) In addition to celebrated places, the show features the occasional lesser-known gem — like Chartwell, “the world’s Only Winston Churchill bookstore.” When he needs some quick cash, Chuck Jr. sells his collection of Winston Churchill books. Being featured on a television show can be a boost for business and for a shop owner’s self-esteem. “Most places that we got feedback from that were featured in the show were extremely happy to be associated and to be recognized sort of like nationally and internationally,” said Mr. Levien.

Watching movies set in New York when they were younger inspired both of the showrunners. The Coney Island scenes in “Warriors” and the dinner scene in “The Godfather,” they said, were especially memorable. “The walking in the back door at the Copa in ‘Goodfellas’ is an all-time classic,” Mr. Levien said. Mr. Koppelman was in awe of the Sal’s Pizza scenes in “Do the Right Thing.” “I’ll never forget the extra cheese argument in that movie. It reveals so much about character,” he said. “It’s a very important thing in my cinematic journey as a young person wanting to do this — we thought over and over and over and over and over again about Sal’s Pizza.” There was only one downside of filming in New York, Mr. Levien said: “Sirens and car horns. Ruining takes. When these actors are locked in concentrating on some serious emotional monologue or moment — and you know, it’s like, ‘Hold for the police helicopter. Hold for the fire truck.’” For their next show, Mr. Levien and Mr. Koppelman may head to Florida. “We’re certainly really animated by the idea of making a show set in Miami,” Mr. Koppelman said. Still, Mr. Levien said filming in New York was “such a privilege.” Mr. Koppelman put it this way: “I do think, as is often the case for a Long Island-born New Yorker, who has been a New Yorker for 35 years, Billy Joel put it best: I’ve loved these days.”

[therealnuclearplatypus]

MALECTOBER 2022 DAY 4—BRUISES

@malectober

Jace swiped at the last demon with a cry of "Gotcha!" Izzy coiled her whip and Jace and Clary sheathed their blades. Alec retrieved his arrows.

Simon slung his bow on his shoulder. "Good hunting today."

Jace gave a long-suffering sigh. "How many times have I told you not to say that, Simon? We are not a medieval gang of uncouth youths who go hunting for sport. We hunt to—"

"—to save lives, because it's our heavenly mandate, yeah—at any rate, good hunting." Simon blew a raspberry. Jace rolled his eyes at him.

Clary smiled the way an adult might smile at two bickering children (Alec knew a thing or two about that). "You two are insufferable. You are over twenty years old and yet one might think you're toddlers."

"Rafe is more mature than you two are," Alec put in.

Isabelle wrapped her arms around Simon's waist. "Good hunting, baby." She kissed him.

"Ew, PDA." Jace looked away.

Alec looked at him incredulously. "You're gonna complain about displays of PDA?"

Jace made a face at him. "You're gonna complain about me complaining about displays of PDA?"

Alec made a face back. The other four made their way back to the Institute while Alec made his way back to the loft apartment in Brooklyn. He hauled himself up the stairs and through the door, which Magnus had left unlocked for him.

"Alec, baby, you're back!" Magnus poked his head from behind the fridge door. He had Max in his arms. "Max, blueberry, look! Daddy's home!"

"Daddyyy!" Max wriggled in a demand to be put down and Magnus obliged. The little blue boy ran towards his father and hugged his leg. "Missed you!"

"I missed you too, Frosting," Alec said with a smile.

"Daddy, you kinda stink," Max noted. Magnus snorted a laugh.

"Demons don't smell very nice, ya know," Alec grinned. He saw Rafe emerge from his room. "Hey, Rafe!"

"Hi, Da." Rafe ran over and hugged Alec's other leg. "Max is right. You smell."

Alec rolled his eyes with a laugh. "Okay, okay. I'll go shower then, okay? Let me go for a sec."

The kids let him go after a while, and he went into the bathroom. As he drew his shirt off, he saw the bruises patterning his skin, marking where he'd fallen while fighting and where the demons had hit him and gripped him.

Magnus poked his head from behind the door, saying, "D'you need anything, love? Clothes, underwe—Alec, what the hell happened to you?"

"They're just bruises, Mags. They happen in a fight, you know. This isn't even the first time you've seen me come back all bruised."

"They're quite bad, though." Magnus frowned and walked in, examining him.

Alec shrugged. "They were tough to beat. Got 'em all in the end, though."

Magnus smiled. "That's my Shadowhunter." He traced his hand across Alec's arms and chest, and immediately the bruises didn't hurt as much. "There."

Alec returned the smile. "Thanks." He leaned in to kiss him. Magnus kissed him back, soft and slow and loving. Alec never got tired of it.

Finally, he pulled back. "Now, you should really go shower. The kids are right, you know. You smell awful."

Alec rolled his eyes, laughing, and wacked Magnus with his dirty shirt. "Screw you."

[inkognito97]

If today was your last day

Part 1: Jakarta

„So… could you please tell me again, why exactly we are here?“ Alexander Gideon Lightwood was usually not somebody, who quickly felt uneasy. But right now… he was.

He was barely able to follow his husband, who appeared to be frantically searching for something.  Alec wasn’t sure what this was about. In fact, he had believed that his partner and he could finally – after days of work, cleaning up the chaos in New York and duties as head of the institute or in Magnus case, being the High Warlock of Brooklyn – spend some quality time together. He had imagined them cooking something together, eating on the balcony of Magnus’ loft and afterwards some cuddling on the couch while watching one of the many movies that Magnus just seemed to adore. And of course, he had imagined them kissing. A lot.

But sadly, his imagination was just that, imagined. The reality was quite different.

As soon as the raven-haired Shadowhunter hat entered the apartment, his husband had been all over him, sadly not in the preferred way. Alec could feel his cheeks redden after this particular thought.

No, the warlock had spoken about something he needed a lot of help with, magical help, he had added and clarified, as Alec had offered him his. So no big deal, Magnus just needed the aid of another warlock, or so Alec thought. But yet again, he was corrected by fate or perhaps the angels themselves.

Apparently it wasn’t enough to ask any particular warlock for his assistance and apparently neither Lorenzo’s nor Cat’s magic was enough for the high warlock. He was searching for something else, or rather, someone else, which was probably the reason, why they were now here, at the other side of the globe. Not that the raven-haired man minded travelling with his beloved warlock, but he most certainly preferred, other places, which were less... dirty. Not to mention all the stacks and piles of junk and trash that were literally scattered everywhere. There was barely enough ground uncovered to set foot onto.

“We are here,” Magnus began slowly, his eyes scanning their surroundings, while his reddish magic warped around his fingers, most likely guiding him and showing him the way, “because I am looking for someone important.”

Alec grimaced. This was not a nice place to be. They where... well, he wasn’t quite sure, where exactly they were. What he knew was, that the people who lived here, were very, very poor. A lot of them obviously lived on the streets. Those people, who were more fortunate, lived in barracks, if they could even be called that. Some of the dwellings were barely standing up. There was also no space between them. One dwelling was built next to the other and more often than not, the single room was cramped with people. Not to mention that the people had a railroad right in front of their doors or entrances. A train could drive by every minute and the Shadowhunter was sure, if the people didn’t move their belongings fast enough, a lot of things would be lost and squished. It was terrible.

“And who might that be?” he asked for clarification, even though it was mostly to get his mind off of the misery that surrounded them. He felt for the people, he truly did and he wished that they could do something... but helping was beyond his abilities.

Alec had always thought that the slums and ghettos in New York were bad, but they paled in contrast to what the people had to go through here. All the dirt, the sick and hungry looking humans, who were barely more than skin and bones... It broke his heart, especially since he knew that glamour and richness would not be far away from this part of the town.

“Everything in good time, Alexander,” Magnus was as cryptic as ever. It was one of the only things that made the Shadowhunter crazy, but not in a good way.

“Well, then could you at least be a little bit more specific about our whereabouts?”

Magnus sighed and his shoulders slumped. He let his hands sink a little bit, before he finally turned around to his companion. “We are in the northern parts of Jakarta, in one of the poorer and dirtier places, if you need to know. I grew up somewhere around here.”

“Oh”, was all that came to the man’s mind. He knew that Magnus’ origin had been Indonesia, but to actually see the town, or rather, the province where he was born... that was something entirely different. Even though it was most likely, that things had looked and been quite different all those centuries ago.

A slightly pained expression appeared on the warlock’s features. Alec instantly wanted to reach out and caress the handsome face he so adored. He hated seeing his husband in so much pain. All he wanted was, to soothe it away and make it better.

“Magnus”, the raven-haired Shadowhunter finally did reach out and placed his palm against the warm skin of his beloved. It was almost unnoticeable, but considering the amount of time they now lived together... Alec noticed it, the slight quiver of thin lips and the fleeting expression of dread in dark eyes he learned to love. “I am here.”

“I know,” there was the slightest sign of a smile on the warlock’s lips. “Without you... I wouldn’t be here now.”

“Magnus,” he always wondered how easy it was for his lover, to render him speechless.

“Let’s keep going, okay?” Magnus moved his head just enough to press a soft and loving kiss on the calloused hand against his skin. Alec war truly a steady and strong presence on which he could rely. It helped with the nervousness, as well as the uneasiness he was feeling. This trip... could end in a very, very bad way. But it was a risk, he simply had to take. His, but more importantly, Alec’s life was in danger. This was something that he simply couldn’t ignore.

“Okay. Let’s do that,” Alec nodded in agreement. He watched how his husband took a slightly deeper breath than what was considered normal. Then the warlock seemed to relax, just the tiniest bit. Magnus took a step back and while doing so, he caught the hand that wasn’t resting on his face any longer. With a shy and yet encouraging smile, the Shadowhunter intertwined their fingers. Another deeper breath escaped the warlock, while he squeezed the hand in his lovingly. This might not be the perfect place for exchanging affection, especially not for a couple of the same sex, but he wouldn’t let that bother him for now. They had much more important things to do.

[thesleeploftme]

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[dynamoe]

Oh! Since I didn't include a question last time... Are you into Pokemon at all? If so, what pokemon do you think Billy and Pete would have on their teams? This is vital information to have on any and all fictional characters, in my opinion.

I worked for a web humor site in the early Millennium in a big open warehouse space in DUMBO Brooklyn. Our boss had a Boston Terrier puppy named Punchie who fell in love with a giant stuffed pikachu that was larger than he was and he showed that love by humping it constantly.

The other boss thought this was hilarious and filmed a music video of Punchie humping in all the corners of the loft. The vet told the boss his dog was going to put his back out if he didn't stop so the pikachu was hidden from him. Punchie spent days mournfully looking towards the room where Pikachu was taken.

I'm stalling... I wish I could answer privately and not have to expose how fucking old I am... I know JACK SHIT about stuff the Zoomers grew up with.

Um… Jiggypuff is a pokémon I know! It's pink and it sings. So, to answer this question they only have Jigglypuff. Or ten Jigglypuffs, if that's allowed. Twenty Jigglypuffs! A whole team of them to pull their sleigh on Christmas! MY POKÉYMANS! LET ME SHOW THEM!

Fuck, did that work?

← 2022 Billy & White index

Luckily, Pete, Billy and their P'mons has been covered by other (presumably younger) artists...

here's @jaboncito with Billy & White's team (12/2021)

...of minstrel show Meowth (not cool, man), micro-face Evie, floating magnet eyeball and low polygon duck-tank!

@ghostpathos describes a full roster for both (3/2017)...

Billy's side has Star-you, Psyduck and other things that weren't in the cartoon. White has what looks like anorexic pikachu in drag, a plastic drinky bird, thing with an X-on-its-face... and the rest.

*(No Billy or Pete but @butterflies-and-handgrenades drew pokémon for the boys and the Monarch)

The Pokémon question and "What if Billy and White were dogs/cats/ponies?" and "Look! I made Pete & Billy avatars in Animal Crossing, etc." were the three kinds of posts I used to see all the time when I first decided to search if any Pete & Billy fan art existed