#Myrtle Avenue line

[wanderingnewyork]

From 2019: An M train runs through #Ridgewood, #Queens.

#nyc #newyorkcity #queens #m line #Myrtle Avenue line #new york city subways #elevated subways #ridgewood

[rabbitcoolcars]

You're at Myrtle Avenue on the New York BMT Nassau Street/Jamaica Line during a fan trip which was run on April 22nd, 1956. Cars 1315 and 1382 are BRT/BMT elevated gate convertibles. They were attractive cars to ride on during hot weather. From the George Conrad Collection. nycsubway.org

[vague-humanoid]

A group of six violence interrupters in Fort Greene have been responding to shootings, holding vigils, and de-escalating conflicts between youth in the neighborhood’s two public housing complexes for over a year.

The work is similar to what other interrupter groups do in gun violence hotspots, from The Bronx to Coney Island to Far Rockaway. But in Fort Greene, there’s one major difference: They’re not getting paid. 

Carlos Jones, 55, and his crew of volunteers with the nonprofit Switching Lifestylez used to work as employees of another violence interrupter group: Gangstas Making Astronomical Community Changes, Inc. (G-MACC) run by Shanduke McPhatter, who was arrested in 2020 after allegedly threatening to have the Bloods gang attack his neighbor.

A subsequent city audit found McPhatter had been paying himself a $282,000 salary, which he was later ordered to reduce. McPhatter’s city contract expired in June of 2021, records show, and an office the group opened for neighborhood youth on Myrtle Avenue has sat empty and closed off to the community ever since. 

While his anti-violence efforts stalled, McPhatter ran an unsuccessful campaign for Brooklyn borough president. 

As G-MACC folded, a core group of its former employees with roots in the neighborhood kept doing the work. 

“When everybody left, we stepped up,” said Jones. “We on the front line with no salary. We put our life on the line every day to keep this neighborhood safe.”

Inez Wilson, 52, the former office manager at G-MACC’s operation, co-founded Switching Lifestylez with Jones. While Jones handles the street outreach, Wilson handles the paperwork — and the group officially received nonprofit status last summer, IRS records show.

@chrisdornerfanclub @redstarovermoundcity @el-shab-hussein

[gravesthompson99]

Camping With The Oregon Coast

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#Top Binh Dinh AZ #Binh Dinh Viet Nam

[afrotumble]

Myrtle Avenue Line

#abandoned #railway lines #trains

[jefferymaples]

Murrells Inlet Inshore Fishing Charters: A Fusion of Relaxation and Adventure

Nestled along the South Carolina coast, Murrells Inlet stands as a hidden gem for fishing enthusiasts seeking both relaxation and adventure. The Inlet's inshore waters offer a unique blend of tranquility and excitement, making it an ideal destination for those who wish to escape the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Inshore fishing charters in Murrells Inlet provide a perfect avenue for anglers to unwind amidst the breathtaking scenery while indulging in the thrill of reeling in the catch of the day.

The Serenity of Murrells Inlet:

Murrells Inlet, renowned for its charming waterfront and marshland, sets the stage for a serene fishing experience. Inshore fishing charters take you through calm waters surrounded by lush greenery and abundant wildlife. As you cruise along, the stress of daily life fades away, replaced by the soothing sounds of the water and the gentle rustling of the marsh grass. The inlet's peaceful ambiance becomes a canvas for relaxation, creating the perfect backdrop for a leisurely day on the water.

Expert Guidance for Novice Anglers:

Whether you're a seasoned angler or a novice seeking a new adventure, Murrells Inlet inshore fishing charters cater to all skill levels. Knowledgeable and experienced captains helm the boats, providing valuable guidance on the best fishing spots, techniques, and bait choices. Novice anglers can learn the ropes while surrounded by the beauty of Murrells Inlet, turning the experience into an educational and enjoyable journey into the world of fishing.

Abundant and Diverse Marine Life:

Murrells Inlet's inshore waters are teeming with diverse marine life, creating an angler's paradise. The nutrient-rich estuary supports a variety of fish species, including redfish, trout, flounder, and black drum. Each fishing charter becomes a unique opportunity to encounter these vibrant species, showcasing the rich biodiversity of the inlet. The thrill of feeling a tug on the line and the anticipation of what might be at the other end make every fishing trip an adventure in itself.

Scenic Beauty and Wildlife Encounters:

Beyond the fishing excitement, Murrells Inlet treats visitors to breathtaking vistas and wildlife encounters. Dolphins often playfully swim alongside the charter boats, creating unforgettable moments. The inlet's avian residents, including herons, egrets, and ospreys, provide a captivating aerial display. Fishing charters become not only a quest for the perfect catch but also a chance to immerse oneself in the natural beauty and wildlife that call Murrells Inlet home.

Murrells Inlet fishing charters offer a unique fusion of relaxation and adventure, creating an experience that transcends the typical fishing trip. Whether you're seeking a peaceful escape into nature or a thrilling angling escapade, Murrells Inlet provides the perfect setting. With expert guidance, diverse marine life, and stunning scenery, a day on the inshore waters of Murrells Inlet promises to be an unforgettable journey, leaving you with cherished memories and a newfound appreciation for the beauty of the South Carolina coast.

Fishing Charters in Murrells Inlet, Myrtle Beach SC- Reel Salty Fishing Charters is a premier fishing guide service located to explore Myrtle Beach/Murrells Inlet South Carolina. We offer trips ranging from inshore creeks to deep sea 40 miles. Book your private fishing adventure on the stunning waters of the Myrtle Beach. We always catch a good time. Fun guaranteed!

#Myrtle Beach Fishing Guides

[americangrove]

Pretty Trees

“Of ornamental trees the crepe myrtle has long ago been naturalized.”—Collier Cobb, “North Carolina” (in The Journal of School Geography), 1897, p. 265.

“Crape Myrtle (Lagerstraemia indica), a native of India…One of our most gorgeous trees, it is scarcely adapted for general street planting, but can advantageously be used for several blocks as an ornamental tree or for planting in parking strips or in alteration with stand shade trees, or along small avenues.”— W. W. Ashe, Shade Trees for North Carolina: Bulletin 16 of the N.C. Geological and Economic Survey, 1908, p. 59.

I’ve never looked at a crepe myrtle up close—flowers, nor bark, nor leaves. As a child, I pressed pinecones into my palms to see how much hurt I could hold. Magnolias were a more direct pleasure to touch, to sight, to smell (and even to taste). Oaks, junipers, mimosa, and many other trees gave me their indulgences too; in exchange I gave them all attention, but never crepe myrtle. Maybe it was partly due to its being a shrub, and so neither a plant which I could look over in garden or field, nor a tree which I could look up at in woodlot or forest. It did not grow at our house, though it did (and does) two houses down, and even more of it grew (and grows) in Scotland Neck, the town where school and groceries and grandma were. Scotland Neck is known for two things, having center street parking (in addition to side street parking) and for having dozens (some say hundreds) of crepe myrtle trees that lend their name to an annual festival. I remember attending as a kid, but even still I never looked much at the trees, most of which line the avenue on the north end of town where so many of the big homes are also planted. Each shrub bleeds into the next when you drive by them even at the 20mph speed limit of Main Street. In summer they glow a lambent pink playing off white wooden porticos like a lemon slice in sweet tea. From a car’s window then, I often saw them, which is the same way I have seen Scotland Neck for many years now. Since schooling for so long up north, Christmas and summer are only the times I pass through, stopping to a store or for gas and then onto elsewhere.

             The Crepe Myrtle Festival was held a few days ago, the second Saturday in July rather than August when it usually occurs. My mom and I decided to go. We parked beside the municipal center, under water oaks whom I hoped benefited from the evaporation of sweat off our skin for other kinds of water seemed sparse amidst the recent swelter. Across from these shade trees, in the median, are the crepe myrtles. A few of them border the town common too, though none are inside it mingling with the ash and magnolias. There is an elm in the town common too. “Why are you here?” I wanted to ask it, but the question seemed too frank. It is still in its native range, even if it seemed less comfortable in the gooey air and burning light than its company.

             Roy was the first to see me and my mom; he called out from under the barbecue stand. Daniella, his wife, was at the other end with her father. The smell of the meat and the cool of shade both felt good under the tent as we caught up before walking further into the grounds. All around my mom saw people she knew, most by last name, almost none by first, like a botanist who knows the characters of a genus, but for whom species are too specific for her interests. Of these faces I knew nearly none, but the converse was not true: “Boy have you grown!” “Girl, is that your son?!” “Look at him now!” “Man! Where you live at these days?” “He got that city look.”

             A crepe myrtle in the south, not unlike a lilac in the north, seems a very innocuous thing. They appear to have always been there. Yet neither’s presence goes back that long in the land.[1] Like people they are—in the various words we have for saying this—“introduced”, “alien”, “exotic”, “adventive”, “immigrant”, “foreign”, “non-indigenous”, or “non-native”. Each term resembles the other as all concern belonging, place and home, yet none seem redundant suggesting the difficulties of saying definitively who or what fits where, especially when a being (like a plant) can’t readily be dubbed “invasive”, for even if the pervasiveness of crepe myrtle seems as complete as something like “oriental” bittersweet, its actions seem less (if at all) damming, or perhaps it is that its beauty remains so alluring.[2] Regardless, it is naturalized.

I could not quite tell as I walked around if I seemed alien, non-native, or something else, maybe in the process of being “re-introduced”—(another curious term as appropriate for plants as people)—and if so, did they imagine me as service tree providing shade in the common’s middle, or an ornamental off to the side? I had my hunch. Crepe myrtle probably stopped asking itself these questions ever since it realized it roots drink well and its leaves eat plentifully down here. It is happy being pink in a world largely green and blue and white and brown. I admire that.

The last person I saw was Mr. Curtis Shields, my scout master from my brief boy scout career. I forget whether joining it was something I wanted to do or not. I liked the idea of knots, knifes and being outside, but I also knew not to expect kindness from other boys so it was not a great surprise when I ended up being pushed into a lake even though I could not swim. Mr. Shields recognized my mom (a distant cousin) immediately; to me he just said hello until he looked again, “Oh my god. That you?! Wow.” I smiled, affirming it was me, but just like all the prior encounters it seemed I really did not have to respond as much as accept exclaim. The significance of seeing me was just that, one of sight, one of being able to have a “Figure: A” of a little boy whose face and family you knew and now suddenly having a “Figure: K” to connect it to, filling in all those interval figures you did not see.

“Well as you can tell, I can’t walk that much these days,” Mr. Shields told us from his electric wheelchair-round, “but I am still moving” he added, twisting the handles. My mom asked if he still did the scouts, “Naw, had to leave that alone bout three years ago when they start lett’in girls in.”  The small talk continued between he, my mom, and two other men who were there before we stepped in and who my mom suddenly “knew” once they told her their taxonomy (genus: Hammer). Silently, I stood in the sun. Mr. Shields glanced up to me three times, smiled, and turned back to the conversation. I wanted to lean over and tell him something, or maybe I wanted him to come closer and ask me something, examine my life a little more.  But “re-introductions” take time, and, at any rate, “ornamentals” are best engaged by glancing. I do not mind the role. I know so many boys, once little (and once behind me at the lake) who did not make it far past their “Figure: C” or are stuck at (in) “Figure: J”; for though they were native, in their growing they got other epithets attached to them, “noxious”, “aggressive”, “injurious”—requiring so much pruning, uprooting, and treatment to “corrected”. Arising somewhere has rarely been a sufficient claim for remaining there.

“It was good to see you, son” Mr. Shields said as we left; I put my hand on his shoulder and nodded.  Back at the car, I decided to walk further down the street paralleling the crepe myrtles in the median. I stopped before a few with sparse blooms (perhaps for lack of water, or maybe it is still early in their season). Behind it, on the other side of the road I could see of one of the town’s historic homes that belonged to someone named Gerson Hoffman. All three things— plant, man, building—had their way of naturalizing themselves into this ground. To become a part of this place, the Indian plant put down roots and put-up showy flowers, Mr. Hoffman, a German immigrant, learned a way of speaking and operated a successful dry goods business and the Greco-Roman house, once built, provided shelter for his family, further supported by servants in back rooms. In becoming part of this place, in putting root, foot and foundation on the ground, each also changed the ground diversifying, intensifying, and qualifying the forms of living (human, vegetal or otherwise) possible upon it. How did these roots, I wonder, effect the ground for me two centuries (or in the case of the house one century) later?  And, if I try to become part of this place again, what do I need to put down or put out? What changes will I precipitate and participate in? As a start to answers, maybe I should finally give full attention to one of those pretty trees.

[1] “Crape-myrtle, Common. Lagerstroemia indica L. Native in China. First Introduced in Europe in 1747. Cultivated in England in 1759 by Hugh, Duck of Northumberland. Introduced to Charleston by Andre Michaux between 1787 and 1796.” See: Favretti, Rudy J., and Gordon P. DeWolf. “Colonial Garden Plants.” Arnoldia, vol. 31, no. 4, 1971, pp. 172–255. Lilac was established earlier in colonial gardens, perhaps as early as the late 17th century; it was already growing in England in the 16th century.

[2] There do not seem to be any manifest disadvantages or costs to planting crepe myrtle. One could say a preference for them does a disservice to native plants, but aside from the complications of this term, crepe myrtle does seem to offer more than just ornamental pleasure to the greater community of life. Many bird species have learned to access their seeds, and some seem to depend on them in winter. See:  Graves, Gary R. “Avian Feeding on Seed of the Exotic Ornamental Lagerstroemia Indica (Crapemyrtle).” Southeastern Naturalist, vol. 17, no. 2, May 2018, pp. 293–97.

#landscape #north carolina #trees #crepe myrtle #essay

[brooklynlivingtips]

Residing in Brooklyn's Ridgewood

In the Brooklyn neighborhood of New York City's borough, Ridgewood is a neighborhood. To the south, it is bounded by Bushwick and East Williamsburg, to the west by Glendale, and to the north and east by Maspeth and Middle Village in Queens.

A mixture of working-class families, young professionals, and artists make up Ridgewood's population. The neighborhood is renowned for its historical row homes, many of which date back to the late 19th and early 20th centuries, as well as for its tree-lined streets and small-town atmosphere.

Myrtle Avenue, one of Ridgewood's main commercial thoroughfares, is home to a variety of stores, eateries, and pubs. The area also contains a number of parks, including Highland Park, which has golf course, reservoir, and hiking paths.

Due to the area's proximity to numerous subway and bus lines, Ridgewood has good access to other regions of Brooklyn and Manhattan. It is also conveniently close to important highways, making it accessible by automobile.

In general, Ridgewood is a vibrant and varied town with a deep sense of history.

Why choose Ridgewood, Brooklyn, as your home?

People choose to reside in Ridgewood, Brooklyn, for a number of reasons, including:

Ridgewood is reasonably priced when compared to other Brooklyn and Manhattan districts. For individuals looking for more cheap accommodation, it is an appealing alternative because the cost of living is lower than in other hip neighborhoods in Brooklyn.

Convenient location: Public transit is readily available in Ridgewood, making it simple to go to other areas of Brooklyn and Manhattan. It is simple to go around because the neighborhood is well connected to a number of subway and bus lines.

Classic architecture: Several of the historic row homes in Ridgewood date from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. A strong feeling of community and tree-lined lanes give the region a pleasant small-town vibe.

Population diversity: Working-class families, young professionals, and artists make up a majority of Ridgewood's population. Its diversity fosters a thriving and friendly community.

Parks and green areas: Ridgewood is home to a number of parks and green areas, such as Highland Park, which features a golf course, a reservoir, and hiking paths. Residents can take advantage of these areas to enjoy the outdoors and be active.

Overall, Ridgewood is a desirable alternative for individuals wishing to reside in Brooklyn since it provides a special combination of affordability, proximity, historic architecture, diversity, and green areas. Read information about how to sell my house fast before foreclosure.

How to purchase a brand-new home in Brooklyn's Ridgewood

Here are some measures you can take if you're interested in purchasing a new home in Ridgewood, Brooklyn:

Establish your budget: Establishing your budget is essential before you begin your search. To figure out how much you can pay, take into account your salary, savings, and any loans you might be eligible for.

Locate a real estate agent: A Ridgewood-focused local real estate agent can assist you in navigating the neighborhood housing market and locating the ideal house to suit your needs.

Study the market: To gain a sense of the kinds of properties that are offered and their prices, spend some time studying the Ridgewood real estate market. To acquire a feel for the market, look at internet real estate listings, go to open houses, and speak with locals.

Get pre-approved for a mortgage: It's a good idea to get pre-approved for a mortgage before you begin making offers. This can help you have a better picture of your spending limit and may entice vendors to accept your offer.

Make an offer: When you've discovered a house you want, collaborate with your realtor to submit an offer. This will need negotiating a price and other agreements with the vendor. Obtain a home inspection before closing on the property to find out if any repairs or possible issues need to be addressed. You may be able to avoid unforeseen costs in the future by doing this.

Complete the transaction: After you've taken all the required actions, you'll close on the sale and become the owner of your new residence. RJsellmyhousefast help to sell your house fast in Brooklyn, New York.

A Ridgewood real estate agent can guide you through the often confusing process of buying a new home and help you locate the ideal residence for your requirements.

#Youtube

[theswampartist]

I took this photo years ago at Second Avenue Pier in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. I was in tech school at the time, and wanted some sunrise/sunset shots for practice. This twig of a senior graciously allowed me to photograph him while he worked his line for flounder. It was early morning in winter, and my fingers froze trying to get this shot right. 

As I look back on my life, I see the simple things I grew up with and that I enjoyed, and I long to get back the uncomplicated elements that eased the tension of the world off my back. I miss fishing, gardening, reading (more than I do now), taking long walks in the woods, camping, swimming, and just laying on my back, gazing at clouds in a blue sky. 

I started crafting for Christmas, and although I thought I had decent marketing platforms, a website, decent creations, and the earnest to back it up; I found it lacking attention from potential clients. As I am sitting here, trying to pull back from the despair of not selling anything for the Holidays to help pay rent or make bills, I am struck with the pains that maybe my art isn’t getting noticed because it isn’t my normal style of art. It doesn’t have that extra “me” in each piece. 

So, I’ve scrapped my crafts that were for sale, and I’m working on two art pieces, one recent, one not, that I will show even as I look to re-enter the meat factory that is the “regular” workforce. My art will be displayed as I create them on my own time, with no regard to if they will sell or not. I want my art to reflect who and what I am, and have that same energy put into it as I put into waking up before sunrise in mid-winter, drove across the county and froze as I knelt to get that perfect photograph. 

#art #photo #passion #winter

[jasmineb-msu]

Chapter 3 - Fieldwork

1. In my fieldwork assignment, I chose my block at home in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn, New York. I choose the four corner intersection of Vernon Ave, Myrtle Ave, Throop Ave, and Tompkins Ave in my mapping a block activity. I included numerous brownstones on Vernon Ave in this map, including my family brownstone in the middle of the block. On Vernon Ave, you will also notice serval trees because this is a tree line block. At the corner of Vernon Ave and Throop Ave, there is a community mental health building and an MTA bus stop B 43 heading in the direction of Greenpoint Brooklyn. At the corner of Throop and Vernon Ave, there is a Guzman’s bodega. On Vernon Ave, there is also a community garden supervised by the Vernon Ave block association. At the corner of Myrtle Ave, there is another bodega called the Tompkin’s Finest Bodega. On Myrtle Ave, there is an MTA bus stop B 54 heading south toward Downtown Brooklyn. Also, on Myrtle Ave, there is a church called the New Testament Church of God. Directly next to the New Testament Church of God, a “P” on my mapping block represents the church’s parking lot. On Mrytle Ave, there is also a 99 cent store named Myrtle 99 cent. There is a liquor store on the corner of Myrtle and Throop Ave. At the intersection of Tompkins and Myrtle, there is a church named Iglesia Pentecostal “El Redil.” Further down on Tompkins Ave, closer to Vernon Ave, there are two more churches; Solid Rock Baptist Church and Greater Cross Roads Baptist Church. Next to the two churches, there is Mike’s Pizza Shop. Lastly, I drew a community garden located on Throop Ave supervised by the Throop Ave block association.

2. In my observation on Vernon Ave, I noticed that it is a quiet block. A few people will walk down the block ranging in age and race. Most people walking down the block of Vernon Ave appeared to be African American/ Black ranging in ages between 25- 75. Also, on Vernon Ave, I notice the most diverse than the other intersecting blocks. On Vernon Ave, I saw diversity in religion, age, and race. On Vernon Ave, I observed a middle-aged Jewish family, a young White couple that appeared to be in their late 20's or early 30's. Moreover, I observed many African American/Black families that appeared to have their brownstones be passed down generationally because of the ranges of ages in the households. Vernon Ave was an overall quiet treeline block with many families with diversity.

On Myrtle Ave, I noticed more foot traffic than Vernon Ave because of the presents of a bus stop, bodega, and three churches. The diversity on Myrtle Ave is less than Vernon Ave. I observed that the minority of people walking on Myrtle Ave are African American/ Black people. I also notice more noise on Myrtle Ave with the bus stop going in both directions on this avenue. Also, on Myrtle Ave, I notice a police car racing down the avenue with sirens and flashing lights. Moreover, I see that Mike Pizza Shop is busier than normal. I observed on a Saturday evening. I assume the pizza shop is busy because Saturday is a weekend, and most people do not cook because they are running errands and usually cook a big meal on Sunday.

On Throop Ave, I noticed that this avenue was not as loud and congested with people as Myrtle Ave. However, this ave was louder than Vernon Ave. I noticed that Throop Ave is not a residential ave and only has a community garden and a community park. I see that children are leaving the park because I observed this block at 6:00 pm. Families are beginning to leave the park because it is getting dark. I hear children playing and screaming with excitement as they slide down the slides or go across the monkey bars one last time before leaving the park. After, I see the families walk towards the B 43 bus stop.

Lastly, I observed Tompkins Ave and noticed that Tompkins Ave is the quietest ave in the four corner section because this block has three churches and a bodega. Churches are usually open on Sundays, so I assumed that is why this avenue was the quietest.

3. On each block, I would expect more foot traffic because I grew up in this community, and on Saturday's there are usually more families walking around or just enjoying the evening on their stoop.

4. Since Covid- 19 first began, I see a shift in families returning back to the park. When Covid- 19 first started in 2020, I noticed that many families did not bring their children to the Throop Ave community park in fear of their children catching coronavirus. On Saturday evening, I noticed a shift of families returning to the parks and taking health precautions. When children were playing, their parents ensured they had masks and hand sanitizer.

[wanderingnewyork]

From 2020: An M Train crosses Woodbine Avenue in #Ridgewood, #Queens.

#new york city #nyc #newyorkcity #queens #m line #Myrtle Avenue line #new york city subways #elevated subways

[gravelish]

West Seattle

28 August 2021

The basic idea was a three-hour bike ride with a few steep climbs. Which it was. But it was also an amazing sightseeing tour of Seattle. Every big city can be beautiful, but it sure helps to have good weather, great scenery, and an interesting built landscape. Add views of distant mountains over a large body of water, hidden roads in forested ravines, and crowds of people enjoying being outside, and you get something really special. Not the for the first time, a routine bike ride in Seattle left me feeling incredibly lucky.

LINK: RIDE WITH GPS

Getting downtown from home takes 35-40 minutes and includes the Fremont Bridge, the south shore of the ship canal (more pleasure boats and kayaks than actual ships), the Interbay rail yards (who doesn’t like trains?), and a beautiful path through Elliott Bay and Myrtle Edwards Parks. And then the busy waterfront, a cruise ship getting ready to sail, and all sorts of construction on the new stuff that will replace the old viaduct.

Another 40 minutes of riding, and you’re looking back at all of this across the bay from West Seattle. Scuba divers, kayakers, walkers, and bicyclists. I added a couple of climbs (up Admiralty, down Fairmount; up California, down Bonair) before ending up back down at Alki Beach. After a stop at Ampersand Coffee, it was around Alki Point and south along Beach Drive, although I opted for more exercise by heading up the hill on Jacobsen, then back down an Atlas. There was another climb from Lowman Beach back up to the top of the ridge and then it was north on Fauntleroy Avenue and Avalon Way back to the West Seattle Bridge (with a short stop at the Dragonfly near Longfellow Creek).

The return route through SoDo was industrial, but interesting, and it gave me a chance to ride on the bike path that parallels the light rail line into the International District (it also dumped me into the crowd heading to the Mariner’s game at T-Mobile Stadium). This was also a nice alternative to the rather desolate bike lanes past the container terminals on East Marginal Way that are the normal route between the West Seattle Bridge and Downtown (which I had taken on my southbound leg).

The 2nd Avenue Bikeway gets you through downtown easily, but then leads to some confusing navigation in Belltown and Amazonia. Eventually you end up having to decide whether to take Dexter (which I did) to Fremont or opting for the bike path along the west side of Lake Union (which is the route I would have taken if I’d had any paying customers along on today’s Scenic Seattle Bike Tour).

#seattle #west seattle #bike #bike journal #washington #pugetsound

[eternalstann]

Tongue Twister

In which Peter Parker orders a Pepperoni Pizza....and gives his best friend head.

Pairing: Peter Parker X Reader

Warnings: smut!!!

Word count: 2k

_______________________________

Your eyelids scrunched together at the sudden brightness and heat that hit your face. You heard quick footsteps across your bedroom. "Wake up!" Of course it was Peter. Rolling over onto your stomach, you buried your face into your pillows. You almost felt embarrassed once you remembered you only had on a t-shirt and underwear but you were too sleepy to move again. You felt the mattress shift and you knew that the way too giddy boy had climbed onto the the bed with you. You took a sharp inhale when you felt a pillow come down on your ass. "Its 11 o clock! Get up you bum!" Peter exclaimed before hitting you again.

"You're a whole new breed of annoying" you groaned, finally sitting up. Wincing as you opened your eyes, you couldn't help but crack a smile at your best friend. "I'm a whole new breed of man" he replied and you rolled your eyes. "You should've been spider-boy" you reiterated  for the thousandth time. "Why can't you let me be great? Anyways- what do you want to eat though, I'm gonna order some food"  You thought about what you wanted and Peter plopped down next to you.  He grabbed the remote to your T.V, without asking as usual and began scrolling through HBO. "Let's watch Westworld, I've been wanting to start that for a while..." he trailed off,  turning his head to look at you. He stopped to admire you, so pretty even when you just woke up. Your hair was up in a ponytail, lips and cheeks a little puffy still from sleep. You wore an old Ramones t-shirt of his that he'd given you after he shrunk it in the wash. He loved the way you looked in it. He loved the way you looked period. He didn't have a crush on you on you or anything though. You were his best friend. He just thought you were beautiful, smart, funny, and wanted to be around you all the time. That wasn't a crush was it?

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your voice. "Lets get Alfredo. Shrimp or chicken though? Or maybe crab if you're feeling extravagant." He only partially heard what you said. "You want crab legs? That's so much work to eat." "Peter you weren't even listening to me! Never mind just order some pizza." Peter felt a little bad for not listening but how could he focus when you looked like you did.

"I'm sorry! I'll order, Leonardi's?" You gave him a look and he picked up his phone. "Hi, Peter Parker placing an order for a pepperoni pizza". You burst out laughing and he smiled before shushing you. You placed a hand over your mouth to try and keep quiet. "Do I, Peter Parker want my Pepperoni pizza for pick up -no delivery please. No, this is not a prank call. 223 Myrtle Avenue. 1 hour? Thank you!" You removed your hand and let your laughs flow freely.

"You're a joke - oh my god, that was damn near a tongue twister". Peter began laughing with you, his hand finding a place on your upper thigh. "Ooo you finally shaved your legs" "Shut Up! I had to, I went on a date". Peter leaned away from you with a shocked face, "You what?!" "Why is it so shocking that I went on a date? But yes, I did. Remember that guy we ran into at the train station - Nathan? It was actually really nice" You stared at your friend and waited for him to respond. "Did you have a sex with him?"

Your eyebrows rose up almost to your hairline, "Why is that your first question". You stood up and fixed your underwear, sliding your feet into your fluffy slippers. "Well, you shaved your legs so I assume it's because you intended to fuck him". You nearly choked on your on spit, "Jeez Peter, and no I didn't have sex with him. He just went down on me...then I left". It was Peters turn to choke. "What? He gave you head and then you bounced?!" You laughed, "Damn, it sounds bad when you say it like that. But okay, so boom, we kiss blah blah blah and he you know...goes down on me and it was horrendous. We're twenty now, I feel like I'm too old to have wack sex. If he can't give head then he probably can't fuck." You shrugged and Peter was looking at you like you had two heads. You walked to your dresser and began looking for a pair of pants to put on. "Wow, do you think all girls think like that?" Peter asked, he thought it was bad ass that you knew what you wanted and what you didn't want. And a little bit insecure. 

"I mean, I'm sure no one wants bad head" you replied. Peter couldn't help but wonder what your pussy tasted like. He guessed like his favorite cereal, honey nut cheerios. He shook his head, why was he thinking about you like this? The two of you had been friends since 6th grade. But holy shit your ass was gorgeous, how had he never noticed you had an ass like that before. "You know, I've never gone down on a girl..." he mumbled, looking at his hands. You were genuinely shocked. You knew Peter could be a little shy but let's be real, he was stupidly handsome. "Y/N, what if I'm bad at it!" he exclaimed. Peter tended to excel at everything he tried so you had no worries for him.  "It's not that big of a deal Peter, trust me you'll be fine." "But what if I'm not?" You laughed at his concern, about to pull your pants on. 

"Wait! What if I...what if I practiced, like, on you?" his voice got lower with every word. You couldn't believe you ears, your pants dropping to the floor. "You want to eat my pussy?" You asked incredulously. "No I don't....not like that; I mean I do but like in a friend way? Not that I wouldn't in a romantic way but like...fuck yes I do" he threw his hands in the air. You could feel your body begin to heat up at the thought of him tasting you. "Um.. if you want to, I guess, it couldn't hurt". Peter nodded, grabbing your hand and guiding you to sit on the bed. "Can I kiss you?" you asked, and Peter's heart raced at how innocent your voice sounded. He didn't speak, just leaned in to connect your lips. The moment your lips touched it was as if something broke inside the both of you. You could've kissed him forever. Peter's hands went to your waist, pulling you onto his lap, his fingers fiddled with the hem of your shirt. You moaned into his mouth and nodded giving him permission to lift the top over your head. Peter pulled away to look at you, letting a hand cup your full breast. His thumb ran back and forth over your nipple and you shivered from the tingle it sent down your spine. "Wow...when did you get these?" Peter asked and you laughed pushing him back against the bed. You pulled your panties off, and you realized you were naked and he was fully clothed. "Take off your shirt" you instructed and he obeyed. 

Peter lay back down, and you ran your hands down his hard chest. "Where have you been hiding these" you asked, letting a finger run over the lines of his abs. "I've been trying to show you for months! Now come here" he spoke grabbing your hips and pulling you upwards. "What?!" you wondered aloud. "I want you to sit on my face" Peter responded like he had just told you the answer to a math question. "I..okay" you muttered, a bit taken a back. You positioned yourself over his face. He grasped your hips, "Wait" he commanded and you hovered above him. "So pretty" he whispered. He looked up at you and smiled when he saw you were already looking down at him, your mouth parted into a small 'o'. He let his left hand reach under you, running his fingers between your folds, just barely brushing against your clit. You gasped and your hips jerked forward. Peter hummed, loving every second of having you above him. He let his thumb dip into your pussy, "So fucking wet" he drawled before putting the digit into his mouth to taste you. "Oh my god" you whimpered watching his sultry action. He'd had enough. 

Peter pulled you down to his mouth, getting straight to work. He let his tongue lap against the full length of your pussy, back and forth. His hands moved around to your ass grabbing handfuls of each supple cheek . He moved your body back and forth letting you ride his tongue. "Peter" you moaned, throwing your head back and letting your hands massage your tits. Peter looked up and nearly came in his jeans at the sight of your writhing above him. He'd never wanted anything as bad as he wanted to make you cum in this moment. He moved his tongue to your hole and began moving it in and out, fucking you with the wet muscle. You shook your head in disbelief of how good he was making you feel. "Peter I'm gonna fucking cum" you screamed, hand reaching down to grab his hair. He picked up the pace and wrapped an arm around your waist so he could could rub your clit. You didn't even get to warn Peter as your orgasm crashed over you. Your arms reached forward to grab the head board while you came so you could hold yourself up. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breathe. 

But Peter didn't stop. "Peter I can't" you whined, your body feeling spent. "Yes you can" he mumbled, barely pulling his mouth away from your pussy. You tried to lift yourself up but he held you down against his tongue, fuck him and his super strength. Peter looked up at you again, your brows were scrunched together and your mouth wide open. He tightened his grip on you, grinding you against his face. You felt your second orgasm approaching and Peter could tell. He moved his mouth upwards, sucking on your sensitive clit. You fell forward this time as you came, screaming profanities. Peter let you go and you collapsed onto the bed next to him. He was on top of you in an instant, kissing you like his life depended on it. Your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him flush against your body, wrapping your legs around his waist. Peter pulled away staring down at you. "How was that?" he asked, and you could tell he was serious. "It was amazing Peter, please fuck me, I need you to fuck me" you practically begged, thrusting your hips against his. His fist slammed into the mattress beside him at the feel of your pussy rubbing against his hard dick. "Holy shit, okay" he groaned and reached to undo his pants when you heard the door to your apartment slam. You both froze. 

"Hey guys, where are you? I'm here! The pizza guy was standing downstairs he said he was for like 15 minutes so I just paid, you can cash app me later.." It was Ned and MJ. "What the fuck" Peter whisper yelled. You pushed him off of you. Throwing his shirt at him. "Get dressed" you panicked. "Tell them I'm in the shower!" you squealed before locking yourself in the bathroom. Peter tugged his shirt on before realizing he still had the biggest hard on in the history of hard ons. "Fuck it" he mumbled walking out into the living room. He gave Ned an unenthusiastic wave and grabbed a slice of pizza. Ned was about to say hi when he noticed Peters boner. "Don't say a word" he grunted, taking a bite and shaking his head at his friends. 

"Every time I come over here something weird is going on..." Ned whispered to himself.

_____________________________

My first imagine about Peter Parker! Should I do a part two? Let me know, sending you all love.

Part 2 is up! 

#peter parker #peter smut #peter parker smut #avengers #tom holland #avengers endgame #peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker one shot #peter one shot #peter imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker preference #tom holland smut #avengers smut #spiderman #spiderman smut #spiderman imagine #far from home #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home

[drewfun237]

Good morning from my #commute . #bushwick #brooklyn #subway #goodmorning (at Myrtle Avenue (BMT Jamaica Line)) https://www.instagram.com/p/CN4xPp_Bv23/?igshid=ne12m41mtrh4

#commute #bushwick #brooklyn #subway #goodmorning

[railwayhistorical]

Clinton Hill

Afternoon light falls across 509 Myrtle Avenue in Brooklyn. This bus will run down to Jay Street where those riding will receive a pass to hop on the subway—this due to the previous existence an elevated subway line on Myrtle Avenue, a legacy of sorts.

The frame structure to the right is now gone, but the arched windows on the two buildings in the center can still be found—though it looks like a building sprouted out of the back courtyard of number 509 itself.

One image by Richard Koenig; taken in the fall of 1981.

#brooklyn #myrtleavenue #clintonhill #prattinstitute #nyc #1980s #filmphotography #grainisgood

[yungimmortals]

long drive | graves & miranda | part 1

date: friday, may 22, 2020

summary: two of the hermes siblings wake up at the crack of dawn for a road trip. final destination, myrtle beach. current location: somewhere on i-95 south.

“Hey! Monty! Let’s go!” Graves strolled into Cabin 11, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Loretta’s outside, doors are unlocked. Put your shit in the truck. Vamos, vamos! We got a long drive hermana.” He checked his watch as he dug through the fridge. 4:30. He closed the fridge, scooping up the food he’d gathered and dumping it rather unceremoniously into a bag. He snagged his water bottle from the counter and popped into his room to give it a once-over, making sure he had everything for the weekend. 

“Mira!” Graves called, after unloading more supplies into the truck. “We’re already behind schedule, andele.” He decided to forgo nicknames, his tone a little more serious than usual. “My mom’s cookin’ dinner tonight and we are not missin’ that!” Grave picked up his duffel bag and hooked the strap over his shoulder, seconds away from knocking on Miranda’s door.

Miranda opened her bedroom door, shuffling out of it with a few bags in tow.  "Okay, okay! Te escuché." She bent down to grab her magic bag, which was currently in its usual black backpack form, and threw it over her shoulder.  "Coño, don't remind me about the drive, I'm tired just thinking about it." She headed over towards the front door, pausing to slip on the flip flops she had left there before she finished packing. "Do you need me to bring anything out? Once I get to Loretta, I make zero promises that I'm coming back for you."

Graves shook his head, stepping back so she could pass. He made a shoo-ing motion with his hands in an attempt to usher her out the door. "Nah nah, she's already loaded up. I just need my-" he looked around the room, spotting the item and swiping it off the edge of the couch. "Hat, and now I have it. We're good to go. You're navigator and DJ, you know the drill." He put his hat on, turning it backwards. He gave the cabin one more cursory glance and closed the door behind them. "I hope Roz doesn't set the place on fire while we're gone." Graves hopped in the truck after loading in Miranda's bags and closed the door; he turned the key and the engine roared to life.

Miranda climbed up into the truck, dropped her backpack at her feet, and immediately started getting her phone connected to the stereo system Loretta had.  By the time Graves had finally joined her inside of the truck, she had already kicked her now bare feet up on the dash, and had her road trip playlist loaded and ready to go.  "Nah, we should be good, I didn't tell her what not to do, so it should be still standing when we get back.  I told Mace we were going to be gone, so maybe she'll swing by occasionally and check up on the place." She shrugged, ignoring the small part of her that was in fact worried about leaving her younger sister in charge of the cabin.  Once the engine started up, she turned on the radio to let her playlist start, leaning her head back into the seat as they started to drive.  The music filled the silence between them as they started getting onto the highway, and the farther they got from camp, the more excitement started to flutter inside of her. "I'm glad we're doing this, Gravy.  I didn't realize how badly I wanted to get out of that place."

He took the exit, as instructed by the GPS and looked over at Miranda. "Yeah, me too. I haven't been home since...I got here." It was weird to say out loud; now that he had, Graves' excitement doubled. "I can't wait for you to meet my mom. And Gran! And see the shop. And-" he cut himself off with a laugh. "I'm gettin' ahead of myself. This is gonna be fun as fuck."

Miranda nodded her head as he spoke, a smile appearing on her face at his very obvious excitement.  "Yeah, especially since you're such a momma's boy, and all." She teased, choosing to do that instead of thinking about the last time she had gone home herself.  She hated thinking about it, but the idea of going on an adventure to meet Graves' mom had her feeling a little on edge about the whole family topic.  Regardless, she plastered a smile on her face.  "I'm mainly in it for those fishbowls you showed me, but yeah I guess the rest of it is fine too."

"Hey, I have a great mom! Of course I'm a momma's boy. You'll love her too, wait and see." Graves bobbed his head along to the song Miranda had picked. He checked the time. 5:00. He was not awake enough for the drive ahead of them and decided that the first pit stop would be at a Starbucks. His ears perked up at 'fishbowls'. "Oh fuck yeah, Monty, you're gonna love Duffy's. Well- actually you might hate it, it's kind of a dive? But the fishbowls are fuckin' bomb and we can walk there from the house."

"Why the fuck would I hate it? I'm not an elitist or some shit. But I am very okay with being able to just walk down the street whenever I want a drink." Miranda rolled her eyes, shuffling in her seat a bit until she was comfortably situated while half facing her brother, then pulled a blanket out of her backpack and draped it over her legs.

Graves shook his head with a laugh. "We'll have to walk there every day then. It's like a ten minute walk to the main avenue and there's Duffy's and really good pizza and we can get ice cream at Sweetz and- I'm ramblin'. You have to wait and see." He looked over at Miranda as she got comfortable in the passenger seat. "You wanna nap for a bit? I'll wake you up at the next rest stop."

Miranda laughed as well, though hers was laced with exhaustion.  "You, ramble? Never, Manito.  But, as long as they have black raspberry then I am in for ice cream."  She curled up slightly in her seat, and smiled when she heard Graves' offer.  "Yeah, I didn't really sleep last night, so that would be awesome." They talked for another few minutes, Miranda's voice slowly getting quieter before her end of the conversation dropped altogether as she fell asleep.

~~~ 

The rest stop parking lot was packed, considering it wasn't even 9 AM. It took Graves two loops around the place before he found a parking spot. He cursed himself silently for forgetting about the holiday weekend as he turned the car off and gave Miranda's shoulder a shake. "Mont, wake up. We're in New Jersey." When she didn't stir, Graves tried another tactic. He shook her arm again, talking louder this time, "Hey, hermana, levántate! I'll buy you coffee. There's a Starbucks here." As his sister began to wake up, he hopped out of the truck and sent two quick texts: one to his mom, the other to Macey, updating them with the progress of their road trip.

Miranda let out a small groan when she felt her shoulder get shaken, adjusting herself so that she was away from the source of the movement.  When it returned, but stronger this time, she let out a louder whine, though it cut off when she heard 'coffee'.  It took her a minute to wake up enough to register where they were, then another three to stretch and climb out of the truck to join Graves in the parking lot.  "Oh gods, coffee. Yes, please."

Graves stretched his arms over his head and yawned. "Okay, cariña. Let's make this quick, we still have nine hours to go. You grab breakfast, I'll grab the coffee?" He handed her a very wrinkled twenty dollar bill from his pocket then bumped her shoulder with his. "Meet you back here in five?"

Miranda looked down at the money he handed her, then back up at him and raised an eyebrow to silently ask him why this moment was happening.  Then she saw the look on his face, and the excitement in his eyes and decided not to say anything, instead pocketing the bill and following him towards the rest stop.  "Lo tienes. See you in five."  She started to walk, put turned around when she thought of something, but continued to walk backwards.  "Iced coffee!" Miranda turned back around and over to the food court.  The line made her take a little longer than five minutes, but roughly ten minutes later, she returned to the truck with two breakfast sandwiches in hand.

Graves was sitting in the driver's seat already, door open, his feet hanging out the side. The line for coffee had been much shorter than that for food and he'd beat Miranda back to the truck, taking the opportunity to check his texts. As she walked up to the car, he grabbed her iced coffee and handed it to her, eagerly trading for a sandwich. "Thank gods you're back. I'm starving to death, Mont. You ready to get back on the road?"

Climbing back into the truck, Miranda let out a huff. “I swear to gods, people are idiots. Someone was trying to get a vegan egg sandwich. At a rest stop. Like, where the fuck do they think they are, a gourmet coffee shop?” She rolled her eyes, exchanging food for a coffee and took a long sip. “But si, vamos, get me away from this place.”

He chuckled, waving his sandwich at her, "I assume this is not a vegan egg sandwich then?" Graves unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite before putting on his seat belt and turning the key in the ignition. "'This place' as in the rest stop? Or 'this place' as in New Jersey, armpit of America?" He joked before pulling out of their spot and getting back on the road.

Miranda laughed, returning her feet to the dash as he pulled back onto the highway.  "Sorry to disappoint you, I know how much you're dying to have something in common with 'tough guy' Brent." She teased, unwrapping her own sandwich and taking a bite out of it.  "I was going to say just the rest stop, but you know what, either one is fine by me at this point."

"Oh my gods, did Macey tell you about that?" Graves asked, indignant. He took another bite of his sandwich. "Brent is cool, and scary. Y'all stop makin' fun of me for bein' intimidated or I'm not talkin' to y'all about anything anymore." His eyes flashed to the GPS and he switched lanes before focusing back on the road. He repeated his earlier statement, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with his words, "Nine hours to go, hermana. Luckily, we'll be out of Jersey in about an hour. "

"No? I was just there after the first night of fight night.  Brent just said the same exact thing Macey and I had already said you practically fell over trying to get back to the cabin after that.  Though now I will be texting Macey." Miranda took another sip of coffee.  "Cool, I'll give you. Scary? Sorry, can't agree there, Gravy."  When he switched topics, she decided to ease up, considering he was driving and was honestly in complete control of her not getting lost while wandering around Myrtle Beach.  She started the process of connecting her phone back to the stereo to get the music playing again.  "That's not bad, Any requests for the DJ?"

“Ah, fight night,” Graves confirmed, finally understanding the moment Miranda was referring to. He took another bite of his sandwich, mumbling, “punched a god” around his mouthful of food. He was thankful Miranda didn’t press the topic; Graves wanted to get to know Brent better. He didn’t really find the older demigod that scary, but he didn’t know him well enough to see the softer side that his sisters always pointed out. And if this guy had punched a god in the face without being vaporized on the spot? Well, Cam definitely wanted to call him a friend. He blinked, registering Miranda’s question a few seconds after she asked. “Hm, somethin’ we call yell along to? Somethin’ that’ll keep me awake until we make our next stop. It’s a long drive, but it’ll be worth it, I swear.”

Miranda nodded.  "Alright, I can work with that."  She debated offering to drive for a little bit, but her brother was stubborn.  Besides, it didn't even matter if she said anything or not, they both knew that they would swap if he needed a quick power nap, so she decided to not bring it up. Tapping her phone a few times, she pulled up a new playlist of songs they could easily jam out to and pressed play, reaching out to turn the stereo up as it started blasting out.

#m: graves #graves&miranda #graves&miranda 004 #chatzy