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notbecauseofvictories · 3 months

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Hi Sarah, I'm going to visit Chicago in a couple of weeks and when I think of Chicago I think of you. What would you recommend I visit/do?

Unfortunately, Chicago is not its best self for a couple months---while I maintain that the city is for all seasons, summer is undoubtedly when it's most alive. However, there are a couple things I will definitely recommend for the unseasonably warm spring traveler:

(1) Eat some food

A friendly word of warning: do not be tricked into eating Giordano's or Lou Malnotti's. Perhaps your companions might try to win you over with promises of Chicago-style hotdogs---do not be swayed! You must manfully resist! (Harold's Chicken is that good though, and if you're close to the one in Hyde Park, feel free to devour the three piece dinner of your choice. Cheap bottle of the too-sweet wine I preferred as an undergrad optional.)

A much better option is to find a place that serves whatever food you love, but does it really really well.

Do you like sophisticated twists on a brewpub menu? Try Moody Tongue in the South Loop

Or are you really more of a tapas person? Highly recommend mfk in Lincoln Park

Would you prefer something a little....meatier? My favorite steakhouse in Chicago is Tango Sur (though I would argue their empanadas are really the showstopper)

There's nowhere in the city that does Hong Kong-style barbecue like Sun Wah in Uptown---I just stopped by after the parade for the Lunar New Year, the duck is to die for.

Are you on the West Side? First of all, do not go to Big Star. I mean, it's fine, but....come on. I'd pick Forbidden Root instead, or head over to Pilsen for Rubi's if you can't survive without tacos.

There are so, so many different bars I would recommend. Chicago was the home of bootleggers for a reason, goddamn it. Still, if you can't get to Wang's (look, I like Violet Hour too, but sometimes you don't want to drink in near-darkness), Koval (the rare distillery in Chicago), or any of the many, many craft breweries we have in the city right now, you probably can stop by one of the many, many, many bars we have in Chicago, and get a drink anyway.

There are more---of course there are more!---but we don't have all day. So instead I will leave you with this bit of wisdom: don't eat at Navy Pier or anywhere too close to Lincoln Park Zoo. If you are at a bar, don't settle for a burger when sometimes, the chicken tenders are actually better. And if you absolutely must go somewhere for pizza, choose Pequod's.

(2) See a thing

Chicago has many things in it! So many things! A hundred thousand things! Unfortunately, I don't know what you're into, so I will just talk about them in general.

MUSEUMS: I am a devoted museum-goer, and Chicago has blessed me with an endless feast. There are the big ones, of course---the Field Museum of Natural History, the Adler Planetarium, the Shedd Aquarium, the Museum of Science and Industry, the Art Institute of Chicago. However, my favorites are smaller, more unique: the International Museum of Surgical Sciences, Intuit (though it's temporarily closed, more's the pity), the Institute for the Study of Ancient Cultures at UChicago, the Lincoln Park Conservatory. That's not even all the museums in Chicago! That's not even all the museums that I've been to. It's amazing.

EVENTS: I once joked that I was a person who needed to schedule her enrichment like a blue-haired senior, but the joke was on me---I am that person! Fortunately, Chicago supports me in this endeavor by publishing many, many different calendars of "what to do this week or weekend". Do you want to see something onstage? Well, here you go. How about some classical music? I have a trusty guide. What about non-classical music? Always go to the Chicago Reader for that. Are you thinking of catching a game? Well, we're still in spring training for the Cubs and Sox, but the Bulls are doing okay even if the Blackhawks aren't, and we've got soccer (male and female) now too!

(Unfortunately, the Chicago Sky aren't playing right now, they're my favorites.)

OTHER: Unless you are extremely efficient, coming here and eating good food, doing one other thing, is more than enough. I promise it is! However, if you have more time, I definitely recommend just---wandering around. The Loop in particular is great for this, because it's reasonably small and everyone there is busy doing things. Going places, talking on phones, getting into or out of ubers, protesting outside of the Daley center, etc. etc. It's amazing to watch, and the buildings are pretty neat too.

Or you could wait a couple months, and take the Chicago Architecture Boat Tour, which I think should be a requirement for all Chicagoans. Maybe even everyone alive in the world. Just saying.

(3) Walk along the lakeshore

Chicago offers many delights, but I really do believe that Lake Michigan and its vast expanse of water, sky and space, is a unique gift to the city. It is beautiful in winter, in spring, in storms, in sun. It is free. You can sit in the grass or the sand or amble along its broad paths for miles, looking at unexpected art installations and waving grasses and the way the beaches slope to the water; you can talk to a friend or watch bikers and joggers pass you by. In the summer, there are a dozen different stands offering warm elote or cold soda, and cheerful men on jingling bike carts that will sell you neon orange push pops. In the winter, there are still bikers and joggers but also Canada geese, and you can stare mournfully at the slate grey water and ponder existence.

It is the heart of Chicago. Nelson Algren called us an "October city, even in summer"; Carl Sandburg described us as a shirtless dude who gives great oral. Personally, I think of Montrose Beach in the setting sun of winter, the sand almost too cold to touch---and beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

#city of the big shoulders

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copperbadge · 3 months

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@knottahooker today ran into a guy wearing a Malort t-shirt, which made me realize that Malort, like Whataburger and the Post Office, also has an online merch store. They sell not only branded apparel but cat toys shaped like bottles of Malort, which clearly spells my doom.

But additionally....in the Shivadh novels, the royal family has a crest, which is used for palace business and by whoever is king or family of the king. I've never designed it because it's hard and also I didn't want to think too much about it. But when I do think about it, what always pops to mind first is when Michaelis and Jes do shots from a set of branded "royal" shot glasses in the second book.

And it sure did pop into my head when I saw the Malort shot glass.

I think the royal crest of Askazer-Shivadlakia might be similar to the Jeppson's Malort crest. I mean, there's a crown, and it's basically the Shivadh blue-and-orange already. I'm not going to lift the Malort crest wholesale but I'm definitely going to use it as a starting point if I ever do describe it in more detail. Worldbuilding is such fun.

Eddie: Has anyone ever mentioned the royal crest looks kind of like the logo for this distillery in Chicago?

Gregory: Oh no, you've asked the secret trigger question --

Michaelis: *irritated monologue about how ACTUALLY it's NOTHING LIKE IT they are FALSE COGNATES and even if they ARE related it's because OURS WAS HERE FIRST this country is HUNDREDS OF YEARS OLD and Carl Jeppson invented Malort LESS THAN A CENTURY AGO -- *

Eddie, watching in awe: I should have made popcorn.

Gregory: Wait until he gets to the new bit he just added where comparing the two crests is homophobic because the king is gay.

Eddie: Wild, but he doesn't really believe that, does he?

Gregory: No, but he understands the meme, and Dad's not one to leave an arrow in the quiver.

#shivadhverse #alcohol

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wyn-n-tonic · 8 months

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Something In the Static

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x f!reader Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: Uhhhh... warning you now that I don't know what happened here. Gif is just a gif.

“You ever reckon I’m holding you back?”

No Sorry I’m late, sweetheart.

No kiss.

Not even a Hey, baby.

Just the sound of the door closing and the smell of a beer washed down by rain coming in before he does. Before those words come out of his mouth.

And you must really show your confusion because he repeats them; he repeats this question that is so beyond comprehension that he says it again. Three fucking times like it’s one for every year you’ve been back here.

Glasses off, you study him, sopping wet like a half drowned dog. “I'm going to ignore, Rhett Abbott, that you probably tracked cow shit through my goddamn living room seeing as you still have your boots on just so I can ask you if you’ve lost your goddamn mind.” But it is not a question, not really, and he knows that.

“Do you ever reck—“

“No, I fucking heard you.” It’s like he’s giving you one to grow on, to cover this upcoming year. “There's a book in your hands and he’s lucky he hasn’t caught it with his forehead. “Go take a shower, you smell like a distillery.”

“But—“

“No.” You’ve gone back to your book, curled up and into the pillow as he stalks away through to the attached bathroom in your periphery.

He gets like this sometimes. Not lately but sometimes. Like he’s got some preemptive grief he’s trying to work through and part of working through that is ensuring that it’ll be needed at all.

You don’t hear the water—stopping or starting—and you don’t hear when he comes back. For such a large man, he sure is light on his feet. It’s only when the mattress dips beneath his weight and the smell of soap and the coconut body wash you know he stole from you that you fully register his presence.

Rhett buries his face into your back and breathes deep, large, calloused hands sneaking beneath your shirt. His shirt. For a moment, you almost want to ask him if you can keep it when he succeeds in his agenda to push you away.

“I love you,” he mumbles.

“You could fool me about that sometimes.”

Another sound, more words muffled by the fabric pulled between his teeth as he bites down and pushes himself closer.

“I thought you were over this shit, Rhett,” you say, staring down at the page that hasn’t turned since he came in. He was over this shit, these were never his words in the first place. These are the words of his brother; the words of the all the jackasses he’s never been able to escape. All these words picking at his deepest insecurities to give them life.

Some half-assed apology tumbles forward and his weight shifts until he’s pulling you over and around to face him and his bloodshot eyes. “Saw your mom today,” he says. “She said you might get promoted.”

“Might.”

“But you’d possibly have to travel a lot,” he says, “and that’s not something you’d have to do if you’d have just stayed in Chicago.”

“I didn’t want to stay in Chicago.”

Rhett’s eyes close and he takes a breath before saying, “I always have and I always will stand still. I-I’m stuck here and you came back for me.”

“I adore you, Rhett Abbott, so I’m going to give you the kindness of my cruelty which is where I hope yours is coming from, too,” you tell him, thumbing away one of the silent tears slipping from the corner of his eye. “It’s a little hypocritical to suggest I came back here for you while your own insecurity has you accusing me of resentment. I came back here for me and you were such a large part of that, Rhett, you were. I chose you and choosing you means choosing here and I don’t hate you for it.”

“But you should get to see the world, you’re not doing that here.”

“And I wouldn’t do that spending half my life locked in an office the size of a broom closet in some high rise in a big city just so I can pay rent and die alone either.”

There’s rawness in your voice as you practically scream it because you can’t do this again. You told him last time that it had to be the last time. You took his ring and made him promise that it would be.

“I'll be better for you,” he promises. He practically pleads. “I’ll do better for you.”

“But I don’t know what you mean by that,” you tell him. “Doing better for me is putting these thoughts out of your head and having the confidence in me that I am making decisions with my eyes open.”

“But I could be different for you,” he says. There’s no telling how much alcohol he’s had or how much is still pumping through his system. “I-I can—“

“I don’t want different, I want you. I live with you, I’m in love with you. If I wanted different, I would say something. If I wanted change, I would work with you to make it happen. I am fine where we are, I am happy.”

“But the promotion—“

“I don’t want it, Rhett,” you say. “I didn’t tell you because I don’t want it, I told my mom because I needed to talk through all the ways I didn’t want it without you doing this shit to me again. Why don’t you understand that?”

He flattens himself out onto his back, both hands coming up to cover his face. He’s still naked from his shower, warm from the water and the beer and just the fact that he is. Always so warm, a comforting blanket and the only person you ever want.

Pushed up and on your knees, you stare down at him. “Rhett, I was really depressed when I wasn’t here.”

“What does that—“

“Doesn’t matter because I didn’t want you to see me like that, I didn’t want to be like that. You’re not some static creature firmly planted into the ground with petrified roots and you’re not a bear trap holding me in your jaws either.”

He relaxes. There’s always some point that he does when all the tension melts out of him and he’s no longer a board but your boy again. “I want you to stop drinking about this shit.”

He mumbles that he knows as he sits up, back pressed up against the headboard. “I think you want me to stop drinking altogether.”

Reaching out, you wipe another stray tear off of his cheek. “I’m in love with you but I didn’t come back for you and I’m not staying because of you.”

A beat passes and then he pushes his hair back while laughing. A pitiful ass fucking sound. “And to think I spent all day out in the pasture thinking about being between your legs. I didn’t even mean to go out fucking drinking, I just had to pick up feed, ran into your mama and ended up there.”

“Didn't answer your phone,” you add, “didn't apologize at all—“

“I'm sorry, honey.”

“Don't honey me, Rhett Abbott,” you tell him, “and you’re damn right you’ll be between my legs. You have a lot more apologizing to do than just that pitiful shit.”

Rhett twitches, his muscles flexing of their own accord beneath his smooth skin, and he groans. “You wanna do it right now?”

Your head shakes. "Maybe I would’ve if you’d come home on time,” you tell him, stretching out beside him. “These conversations take all my energy.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Do it again and I won’t even let you sleep in here.”

He laughs and it only makes him twitch again against his stomach.

“I'm serious, Rhett,” you tell him, glancing over the fact that you’re fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. “But I don’t like being mad at you, I don’t like being jealous and I know that you have a lot of jealousy and I don’t like that either.”

And even that makes him twitch.

“I like being here with you,” you go on, lips dragging across the skin of his rib; over the tattoo of your name he never told you he was getting. “And if I came back for anything, it was for this massive dick.”

Twitches. Again.

Which makes him cover himself, one massive hand cupping over his length. “Now you’re just teasing me, sweetheart.”

“You broke my heart when you walked your scrawny little ass in here and asked me if I hate you for making me stand still, so I think I’m entitled to it.”

“I just think about all the things you could be doing and all the things you have done, you know?” Rhett shifts his body back down the bed to lay flat beside you and turns until he’s facing you. “I'm just some dumb cowboy who can barely operate a toaster.”

“And it’s the best damn toast I’ve ever had.”

This conversation has gotten off the rails now and, truthfully, the hurt it caused to begin with has faded. All to leave two tired bodies next to one another, nose to nose with nothing but your own clothes between you.

“Touch yourself,” you tell him.

“I want to touch you,” he responds, followed by a promise that it doesn’t have to be much; that he just wants to hold your hand.

His eyes are just innocent enough to believe, pulling you in until his lips are on yours. Because that’s also how this works. He says something hurtful out of insecurity, betraying the insecurity he has in your relationship because he doesn’t believe he’s good enough. He takes his slap on the wrist, the talking down, and then he curls into and around you. Some sort of protection as if he needs the closeness of the night to convince him.

“Can I just be inside of you?” He finally asks, fingers creeping over the elastic waistband of your panties. “Please?”

“There it is,” you tease. “You know you can just ask to fall asleep inside of me, you don’t have to make me sad to do it.”

Guilt flashes across his face, so heavy with the day and the work and this on every feature, before he smiles. “Is that a yes?”

He doesn’t wait a second longer as soon as the word yes starts to form in your mouth, doing his best to pull the soft material down and off of you with the help of your twisting hips. Then he pushes inside, easy the way it always is for him.

As he settles, lips mouthing at your pulse point, he says, “will you tell me again? Just one more time?”

“I'm in love with you, Rhett Abbott,” you indulge him, “and if I have to be caught between somebody’s teeth, I’d rather it be yours than job’s or anybody else for that matter.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I'm sorry.”

“Clean the cow shit out of my rug and then I’ll accept the apology.”

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fanfiction #outer range fanfiction #goodbye

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 11 months

Text

To Market

Part Eleven of If You Can’t Take the Heat

Chopped | Masterlist |

Pairing: Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto x Reader

Rating: M (though it may have explicit chapters in the future)

Notes: It's been 100 years and I apologize

Summary: There hasn't been much PDA between the two of you—at least, not when there are so many other people around. Back alleys by the shop, sure. Outside his place at closing, in the middle of a dark street, yeah. But in broad daylight, with a hundred other people?

“We’re gonna be late!”

“There’s no late,” You insist, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you look at your outfit in the mirror.

“There is a late. There’s on time, and then there’s whatever the hell we’re gonna be.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

The comment is chased by the insistent thumping of Carmy’s footsteps, and his groan of, “I am not being dramatic, I’m—”

He stops in your bedroom doorway, giving your body a long, curious sweep as he braces his hands on the door frame.

“What are you doing?” He presses.

“Getting in my farmer's market mood,” You insist, turning back and forth and looking at yourself again. “Cute, right?”

“Adorable. Come on.”

“Oh, you so did not mean that.”

“I meant it.”

“Did you?”

“I meant it!”

“You sure?”

“Honey,” Carmy groans, his eyes squeezing shut. You snort, walking over to him and cupping his cheeks.

“I’m just razzin’ you, baby,” You chuckle, pecking his lips. “I just gotta get my shoes on.”

“Okay.”

“And maybe pee.”

“...Okay.”

“And put some coffee in my to-go mug.”

"I can do that while you put your shoes on."

"And change over the contents of my purse."

“You’re killing me. You’re trying to kill me.”

“Oh, my god,” You gasp as Carmy puts the car in park.

“What?”

“The farmer’s market!" You point through the window. "It’s still fucking here!”

“Alright, alright.”

“I thought it would evaporate when the clock struck noon!”

“Get out of my car.”

“You’re such a sweetheart today." You push yourself out of the car and watching Carmy follow suit.

“You have an attack plan?” You ask, looking around. “This place is fucking massive.”

“Yeah,” He nods, rounding the car to join you. “We’re hitting Vin’s produce stand first, then Chicago Spirited, that’s a, uh—That’s a distillery, I worked with the vendor when I was back in New York, sourced outta here.”

“Okay,” You nod, taking hold of his hand as the two of you drift toward the market entrance. “What else?”

When Carmy doesn't answer, you turn your head, catching sight of his gaze. He looks a little stunned, a little blank; his eyes are bright, but unfocused.

“Carmy?” You press, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He seems to snap out of it just a bit, clearing his throat and glancing down toward your joined hands. Your stomach churns. There hasn't been much PDA between the two of you—at least, not when there are so many other people around. Back alleys by the shop, sure. Outside his place at closing, in the middle of a dark street, yeah. But in broad daylight, with a hundred other people?

Your palm begins to sweat with nerves, and you start to draw your hand away, but Carmy’s grip tightens on yours. His gaze is set stalwartly forward as his grip shifts slightly, fingers intertwining with yours. He clears his throat, and you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly.

“There’s a stand I wanna hit up after that, this, uh—This local beekeeper. Their spiced honey’s supposed to be fire, so,” He shrugs a shoulder. “Thought I’d get a couple of samples, try it out.”

You nod, trying to fight back your widening smile as Carmy keeps you close.

“Are you making a marinade? Honey oat bread?”

“Honey oat bread, you think I’m runnin’ a fuckin’ Subway?”

“Jeez,” You scoff. “Ask a stupid question.”

“Think your mind is still racing from fuckin’ Chopped. C’mon. If we keep lagging, Vin’s gonna be out of radicchio.”

“God forbid.”

“Was there anything you wanted to check out?”

He asks it with a slight panic as his gaze sweeps your tote-bag laden arms. You snort, shuffling one of the bags onto your shoulder and adjusting the other in your hand. You’ve been going through the farmer's market for nearly an hour and a half, listening to Carmy speak to suppliers, watching him bargain and haggle, eating the odd sample that he’d passed over to you.

“No,” You shake your head, “Not particularly. Still curious about the honey tho.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me, too. It’s back this way,” Carmy nods over his shoulder, adjusting his own bags to one hand.

“Okay.”

“You got those bags—?”

“Mhm.”

“I can take one.”

“I’m good.”

Carmy nods, mutters, “Alright.” This time, he’s the one to reach out. He takes hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers again. It’s a little gesture, but it feels a mile off from where you’d been when you got out of the car. You lean in, pecking his cheek before facing forward again.

“I like doing this stuff with you, you know,” You comment.

“What, running my shit errand list?”

“Yes. Besides, this isn’t shit. It’s nice out here,” You look around, “Good space, chill crowd, tasty food…You.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Carmy mutters, and you giggle as you see a surging of pink in his cheeks.

“I mean it,” You insist.

“I know.”

“Do you. Do you really.”

“Yes.”

“Proooooomise?”

“You drive me nuts.”

“I know.”

“I dig it.”

“I know that, too.”

“Hey.”

“Mm?”

Carmy uses his grip on your hand, tugging you to a stop. You turn to face him, arching your brows. Your confusion melts as he grasps your jaw, tipping your chin toward him. You hum softly, leaning into him and raising a hand to hook in his collar as he kisses you. You let the pull of his breath and the hum of the people around you fill your ears as he presses a little closer.

“Carmy?”

You feel him go rigid, hear the smack of his lips as he whirls away from you, toward the sound of his name. Your eyes blink opened, following his gaze toward a blonde women approaching, a dark-haired man hurrying to catch up with her.

“...Sugar, hi,” Carmy greets.

“Hey there,” She pushes her sunglasses up from the bridge of her nose to rest on her head. “I didn’t know you came here.”

“Sometimes, yeah. Hey, Pete.”

“Hey.” The dark haired man raises his hand, waving at both of you. You raise your own hand, wiggling your fingers in greeting. Silence falls between the four of you, and Sugar’s brows raise as her gaze darts between you, Carmy, and your joined hands. Then she raises her hand, finger waving between the two of you.

“Are you going to…? Okay,” She cuts in before Carmy can answer.

“This is Sugar—” Carmy’s voice cuts over her hand pushing out toward you, her explanation of, “I’m Natalie—”

“And that’s Pete—”

“And this is my husband, Pete.”

“Hi there,” You greet, raising your hand and shaking her hand, then Pete’s as you introduce yourself, smiling before raising your hand to shift a bag to keep it from falling from your shoulder. It falls quiet again, and your stomach twists nervously.

“Well we can’t stick around, we have plans,” Sugar warns, “But it was nice to meet you. Carmy, try answering my calls some time?”

“Yeah,” Carmy mutters, “I’ve been meaning to, but I’ve been—”

“Busy, yeah,” Natalie nods, gaze sweeping toward you, “I can see that. Nice to meet you, by the way,” She adds.

“Sure, you, too.”

“Bye, Carmy!”

“See you, Pete.”

You watch the two of them turn and go, brows raising as Natalie glances over her shoulder at you.

“What, uh…” You shake your head, “What was that?”

"That,” Carmy turns the two of you around, “Was my sister."

Tag list: @bobawithpomegranate ; @brandyllyn ; @artemiseamoon ; @amneris21 ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @backoff-imreading ; @quietpainter ; @milf-trinity ; @distinguishedfilipina ; @peoniarose ; @missredherring ; @estrela-rogers ; @silkiers ; @sammiekay01 ; @velmalav ; @themartiansdaughter ; @eddiemunson4ever ; @whoahoney ; @wittyno ; @winchestershiresauce ; @artaxerxesthegreat ; @blueeyesatnight

#Carmy Berzatto x Reader #Carmy Berzatto x You #Carmy Berzatto/Reader #Carmy Berzatto/You #Carmy Berzatto fic #Carmy Berzatto imagine #If You Can't Take the Heat #To Market

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ramblings-from-the-ether · 4 months

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Prohibition AU: The Family

The Outer Circle

These members have a limited amount of knowledge into the scale or even the degree-of-illegality of Naven's empire (Bliss Ocean).

Molly Blyndeff, trudging through hard times with an uncaring family, Ms Blyndeff has been quietly emancipated in exchange for her eyes, ears, and unassuming demeanor. A little spy in short.

Trixie Roughhouse, a close friend of Molly's with a fascination with concoctions. Upon introduction, they were assigned to be apprenticed in moonshining at one of Naven's underground distilleries, though they personally prefer experimenting for unknown product.

Phoenica Fleecity, another friend of Molly's. She isn't of much use in criminal activities (also the least informed of Naven's doings), but her generous allowance does help grease the financial side of activities she has no business knowing about.

Howie Honeyglow, an engineer and construction contact of Naven's. He provides maintenance and solves any lack of facilities for 'business activities', by building them up in record time with little excess charges.

Giovanni Potage, leader of a band of misfits who broke off from another street gang; now in Naven's employ. As mentioned in a previous post, he provides the majority of grunt work in Sweet Jazz City for Bliss Ocean. His talent lies in his rousing leadership which keeps morale steady no matter the branch, much to Naven's surprise. Hosts weekly hotpot nights for his brothers (in-arms).

Percival King, the officer who chose peace. She sees Naven as a major businessman with some connections to the criminal underworld; thus a deal was struck where Percy cooperates with Naven in removing the violence on the streets (and kills off competition) while Percy avoids further investigating Naven's influence that made the deal possible.

Indus Tarbella. Formerly Mera's self-declared servant and bodyguard, he now provides security and butler-like services in extension to Naven as a means to remain close to Mera.

The Inner Circle

Everyone here has blood on their hands. These are the men and women who initiates and executes the family's plans. Aka Bliss Ocean Proper.

Zora Salazar: former bounty hunter, gunsmith, and living action film 'protagonist'. Once carried out a hit halfway across the country within a single day by jumping off a wing of a plane midair onto a passing train to cut time. She usually works alone over larger distances outside of Sweet Jazz City.

Mera Salamin, the main (once) licensed surgeon and occasional strategist. She was out of a career after leaving glass shards in a patient and former co-worker who allegedly harassed her. But her swift manner of action caught Naven's attention, and she refuses to play on the sidelines this time.

Ramsey Murdoch is the accountant and financial advisor, mainly for Naven's legitimate ventures but also reaffirms good and competitive business sense for an empire balancing its legal and illegal standings. Whilst Naven is a great dealmaker, Ramsey makes those bigger deals possible.

The Driver is Naven's eyes on the city, as well as his personal companion. Always (seemingly) a different person to outsiders, some speculate that Naven has Sweet Jazz City's private chauffeurs under his patronage. Though in reality, Yoomtah Zing is a master of disguise and has a more hands-on role in managing Naven's criminal operations alongside Mera.

Naven Nuknuk, former arms dealer to the IRA and the man who came from selling apples to apple cider. He is just a small fish in comparison to the big bosses in New York or Chicago, no need to pay heed to him! (The FBI certainly doesn't anymore)

#epithet erased #epithet erased au #molly blyndeff #giovanni potage #percival king #mera salamin #ramsey murdoch #zora salazar #howie honeyglow #trixie roughouse #feenie fleecity #epithet erased phoenica #naven nuknuk #yoomtah zing #indus tarbella #epithet erased prohibition au

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libras-interactives · 8 months

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DO YOU HAVE ANY TRIO (marius, jack, and mc) MOMENTS YOU CAN GIVE??? DRABBLES, THOUGHTS, OR ANYTHING?? IM SORRYY I JUST I LOVE THEIR DYNAMIC SM

if its not any trouble ofc 👀

I had some thoughts!! Some miiinor maybe kinda spoilers? Some may be mentioned in the story, some may not. So i'll put a cut just in case LOL.

Gunner!MC taught Marius how to hold a gun properly. It's kind of ridiculous how he went this long without knowing, but from the jump it's obvious the young man didn't lead a normal life before coming across Flynn. He just ... appeared one day, and no one really knew where he came from, though apparently he was related to Flynn's coveted Eva Beau. That kept most people away from him, but Musician!MC had no such reservations. Marius would've approached them first, complimenting their music with his usual charm, totally out of place at the Duchess with his shabby clothes and just-off-the-boat broken English.

Accountant!MC would've helped him get situated in Chicago best, explaining the places to shop and the currency. Distiller!MC even had him help around the distillery and storage, and quickly learned Marius was something of a vagabond - and he liked it that way. He had no interest in the straight and narrow kind of life. Callgirl!MC couldn't blame him, and the two bonded over similar taste in men and cons and fashion. Regardless of the MC's thoughts on him initially, Marius attached himself, and went from a fairweather friend to dutifully loyal within half a year. Partners-in-crime seemed to be something he was used to having back in France and England, and he was eager to reform that kind of bond. It's hard to see him as some hardened criminal, though, with that dashing smile and carefree personality ... maybe that's why he got away with so much and kept pushing the envelope.

Marius met with Jack before MC did. In spite of his odd looks and size, Jack kept himself shadowed and small. He was fearful at anyone approaching, and preferred to work alone, which was tricky - his face was too distinct to be out in public, he did not want to be found by certain individuals. Flynn was the only way to hide, and Jack was used to answering to a frightening authority. He wasn't used to a friend, and Marius' attempts were frightening for a while.

Eventually Marius dragged Jack along on his own jobs, and he was (mostly willingly) included in with Marius' friendship with MC. A femme!MC would be a bit more intimidating - he's still a young man with limited to no experience with 'womenfolk'. A Gunner!MC is especially scary at first, until he realizes they won't actually hurt him... and they know to best weaponize Jack's own 'scary' side. A Callgirl!MC quit teasing him early on, realizing how uncomfortable it made him, and got him to lower his guard the fastest. She often thinks that she reminds Jack of someone else, because he's slipped up and nearly called her by a different name a few times. The Musician!MC gets him to open up and actually sing along to a song - only if it's just the three of them, of course - and puts him at ease like Marius. An Accountant!MC can be something of an older sibling or even parent, fussing about his clothes and eating habits and overall ignorance of the world, not just the big city (how are these two alive? Seriously.) Distiller!MC and Jack, meanwhile, often share amiable silence as they observe crowds or work alongside each other. They both know when to reel Marius in and when to let him be.

Marius and Jack's friendship felt much more complete when MC joined, like a missing piece slotting into place. Their temperments suit each other well, and they know most of each other's flaws ... and most of each other's stories. Some things have been unsaid, or unasked, and that's alright for now.

Flynn cares little about the trio, other than they can get their assigned jobs done - he places little stock in Marius and Jack individually, and knows they'll fall in line behind the MC. He's not worried, but a certain other trio are thinking Marius, Jack and MC hold more loyalty to each other than their employer ...

#ahh sorry if this was odd or not what u meant buuuut #just my thoughts....#if:devil's moon #libra says #anons !!

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grusik · 2 months

Photo

C H Abstract Mural by Max Sansing aka @maxsansing and Won Kim aka @revisecmw seen near the entrance of the C H Distillery at 16th and Clinton in the East Pilsen area of Chicago, Illinois. by Atelier Teee

#terencefaircloth #atelierteee #mural #streetart #chicago #illinois #pilsen flickr

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democracyatwrk · 1 year

Link

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power-chords · 1 year

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Here is what I know:

Michael Mann’s father, Jack Mann, owned a neighborhood grocery store in Chicago called Economy Food & Liquor. Two court cases come right up.

In 1945, Frankfort Distilleries, a Kentucky-based producer and wholesaler of alcoholic beverages, was indicted by the federal government on conspiracy charges to fix pricing of its products in Colorado, where state laws permit manufacturers to enter into “Fair Trade” price maintenance contracts with their buyers to set minimum resale prices for their products — think of a designer brand who doesn’t want their clothing winding up at TJMaxx. It is, however, illegal to coerce entry into such contracts. They plead no contest.

1953: Frankfort Distilleries files suit against Economy Food & Liquor for refusing to play ball in their scheme, obtaining a permanent injunction under the Illinois Fair Trade Act. EF&L is found guilty of contempt of court for violating the injunction — one imagines Jack Mann refusing to comply with the terms of an “agreement,” papered or otherwise, that was not entered into voluntarily — and hit with a fine.* This pisses off an “association of liquor dealers” (AHEM, what would you call such a thing?), who threaten to remove all Frankfort products from their shelves, presumably in support of EF&L. Frankfort’s diplomatic strategy involves, allegedly, 1) telling these angry liquor dealers they are free to ignore the price floor for their products; and, 2) informing EF&L that it will reimburse both the fine and EF&L’s legal fees if this stubborn crazy Jew will just agree to go along with the way things are done around here. Jack Mann says, “Go fuck yourself.”

He seeks restitution through the courts himself, and the suit is dismissed for reasons that amount to bureaucratic red tape and his own idealism and ignorance — i.e., how the legal system works, and in whose favor.

*I have no idea how large the fine was. Jack Mann moved his family that year, in 1953. This may be unrelated. Michael himself was 10. In 1969, a few years after Michael graduated at the top of his class from the London Film School, Jack Mann passed away. He could not have been very old. But his spirit, or his ghost, lives on:

#I mean I figured it had to be personal because how else do you make the same film over and over and over again #but I was not banking on THAT personal #notes for the michael mannzine

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chibinightowl · 2 years

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1920s JayTim AU?

Prohibition AU, anyone?

~Tim has enough privately owned land to make it easy (ha, see what I did there?) to set up his own distillery.

~Jason is his mob connection who transports the booze Tim distills.

~Tim is drawn to Jason's magnetic personality and good conversation despite his obviously low Gotham roots. Jason likes Tim because while Tim is high class, he treats him like an equal.

~When Penguin rats out Jason, Tim manages to whisk him out of Gotham and hides him on the Drake estate. He's injured in the process and Jason is quite attentive in bandaging Tim up.

~Jason can't stay even this close to Gotham for very long, so when Tim makes arrangements to send him to Chicago, he knows he has to go. Taking a chance, he plants a big one on Tim. Emboldened, Tim returns it. As he leaves, Jason is determined to return to Gotham.

#chibi's asks

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bookaddict24-7 · 8 months

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RECO OF THE WEEK!

A Proposal They Can't Refuse by Natalie Caña

Synopsis:

"Kamilah Vega is desperate to convince her family to update their Puerto Rican restaurant and enter it into the Fall Foodie Tour. With the gentrification of their Chicago neighborhood, it's the only way to save the place. The fly in her mofongo—her blackmailing abuelo says if she wants to change anything in his restaurant, she'll have to marry the one man she can't stand: his best friend’s grandson.

Liam Kane spent a decade working to turn his family’s distillery into a contender. But just as he and his grandfather are on the verge of winning a national competition, Granda hits him with a one-two punch: he has cancer and has his heart set on seeing Liam married before it’s too late. And Granda knows just the girl…Kamilah Vega.

If they refuse, their grandfathers will sell the building that houses both their businesses. With their futures on the line, Kamilah and Liam plan to outfox the devious duo, faking an engagement until they both get what they want. But soon, they find themselves tangled up in more than either of them bargained for."

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Check out my review on Goodreads here.

Add this book to your TBR on Goodreads here.

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Have you read this book? Would you recommend it?

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Happy reading!

#reco of the week #reco #book recommendation #read #reader #reading #Features #on books #on reading #romance #Natalie Caña #Latine Author #book blog #book blogger #book lover #bookaddict #bookworm #booklr #readers of tumblr

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sherrifdoggo · 9 months

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Future plans for the Chicago Map

big talky one with only a couple pictures coming up

if i had to give a percentage of how done the map is it wouldn't even be in the double digits due to all i have planned for it.

here's that overview again after i john maddened it to break down how things are gonna flow in the next couple months.

the map's gonna be divided into these districts, there will probably be more once i'm deeper into development but i also have to keep in mind the small amount of map space i have available due to the source engine being the source engine

each district will have a unique identity to help players memorize the city and to make the map feel bigger than it'll end up being (which will probably not be that large because, source). each district will also have one or more rackets that players can rp controlling alongside some places for player houses and regular businesses.

District number one (and the most developed one) is the Prairie District (a.k.a. Little Italy). this is a more lower class area and will be likewise very full of grime and crime. it's home to the Unnamed Speakeasy, the last racket of the once mighty prairie district mafia. it's a lot less classy than the other two planned speakeasies for the map and is struggling to stay afloat. and since talk is that the city's gonna stop being dry if roosevelt touches office it's going to get worse for it if the last few prairie district mobsters don't find a way to diversify quick.

besides that, it also has two whole appartment blocks, one of them containing the speakeasy. though i plan on redoing the whole first floor of that appartment building to have a store on the first floor instead of a ground level appartment.

District number two is chinatown, home of the many chinese inmigrants of chicago, the place is a little nicer than the prairie district thanks to the amount of commerce that happens there and has a shining landmark in the middle, The Chinatown Hotel. the (soon to be) tallest building in the southern segment of the city. The Chinatown Hotel is the place to get all your carnal desires fufilled, yes even those ones.

besides that, it'll also be the hq of the new kids on the block, the triads. they're a gang formed more-so as a company that commits crimes who's looking to legitimize itself by associating with maybe... the prairie district mafia?

District number 3 (and the first one that has nothing but plans made for it) is Eastside, it's the economic powerhouse of the city, where all the industry is located. As you head north it does become a little more commercial as downtown kind of encroaches on it over there.

in eastside you'll find the abandoned distillery, which perhaps criminals could use as a hq if they so wished, or as a meeting ground for deals. you'll also find the construction site of next year's world's fair. it'll take up a big chunk of the district as it's a whole man-made island with a bunch of construction equipment strewn about the place.

Finally, District number 4'll be Downtown (and/or River North). This'll be the nice part of the city, with museums, vaudeville, burlesques and other such places that "i still have to much money to care about the great depression" types would hang around. here you'll find a couple assorted landmarks that i have planned, including the Chicago Theater (the place where you'll probably meet Jessie) and The River North Speakeasy, which'll be the fanciest underground speakeasy you'll ever see.

besides all that shit, i also want to do some outskirts for the city with some lightly wooded hills that people can do crime in, as well as a big waterfront towards the east coast of the city so you can have a nice dip in lake michigan, or even make people sleep with the fishes!

also, here's some news for those who only do it for her (like me)

here's some of the planned content for Jessie. once you find her, you can bring her to her room backstage at the chicago theater to select an outfit for her each outfit will share the same taunts minus one which'll be outfit specific. some of the outfits will even be locked until you complete a little map sidequest to get them.

speaking of which, you'll also have to do a real complicated sidequest if you want to turn her into a werewolf. if you can't handle her at her humaniest, you can't have her at her furriest.

also no i did not make Jessie up she is from... something.

i put her in the map because i like her, she's neat and she fits the setting.

#garry's mod #source engine

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copperbadge · 8 months

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I desperately want to try it but they're only serving it as shots at the distillery's bar. But the head distiller talked a bit about how they're doing it (using the actual spices, not a flavoring syrup) and having made davzda at home from vodka and seasonings, I bet I could make a pumpkin spice Malort. Although given how pungent Malort is I'd maybe water it down with a bit of vodka, and at that point you might as well make a cocktail.

I could call it the Chicago Slasher, or maybe the Malort Basic. Malort, vodka, maybe a splash of apple juice, and pumpkin spice seasoning...

#alcohol #malort #cocktails #pumpkin spice #chicago #your daily news digest

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dustedmagazine · 1 year

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Learning to go out again: Jennifer Kelly’s 2022 in review

Meg Baird plays Chicago

Meg Baird calls it “people practice,” the ordinary skills that we require to interact successfully with other human beings. Small talk, the appropriate amount of eye contact, a certain minimal degree of comfort in crowds: these are all things that eroded in the pandemic. And going even further, I’d add we ran short of “leaving your living room practice,” the difficult process of readjusting to unpredictable environments again. I got really bad at that in 2020 and 2021.

So, while 2022 was, in many ways, a joyous return to the norm, it was also deeply uncomfortable. Again and again, I’d show up far too early to shows and avoid talking to strangers. I’d mistake soundchecks for music. I’d get bands mixed up and think the opener was the headliner or at least the second band. It was like I’d never been to a show in my life. But gradually, over a year that was really genuinely rich in opportunities to see live music, I started to remember why I loved it — and how to be marginally less annoying to everyone around me. And I got to see some wonderful performances.

There was James Xerxes Fussell’s intricately re-arranged Americana on the eve of a blizzard in January and Jaimie Branch’s mesmerizing Anteloper just a month or so before she died. Our local festival, Thing in the Spring, once again delivered incredible abundance with Lee Ranaldo, Myriam Gendron, Jeff Parker, Tashji Dorji and others all taking turns on the stage. I experienced the twilight magic of Bill MacKay and Nathan Bowles on a back porch in Northampton as the bats darted overhead, as well as the viscera-stirring low tones of Sarah Davachi at a three-story-tall pipe organ at Epsilon Spires in Brattleboro. I got to see one of my very favorite bands, Oneida, at a club in Greenfield, MA, late in the year. I saw my friend Eric Gagne’s band Footings expand Bonny Prince Billy’s songs into epic, twanging bravado. Yo La Tengo came to my tiny little town and tore the place down. In Chicago for my birthday weekend, I got a chance to hear Meg Baird and Chris Forsyth at a whiskey distillery on the Chicago River. It was a great year. I’m so glad I was there for it.

It was also an exceptional year for recorded music as, honestly, it always is. Here are the records I enjoyed the most in 2022, but don’t pay too much attention to the numbers. The order could change tomorrow, and I may very well discover more favorites in other people’s lists. (We’ll have a Slept On feature at some point early in 2023.) I’ve written a little bit about the top ten, but you can find longer reviews of most of them in the Dusted archives. I’ve linked these where available.

1. Winged Wheel—No Island (12XU): An underground-all-star remote collaboration melds the hard punk jangle of Rider/Horse’s Cory Plump, the unyielding percussion of Fred Thomas, the radiant guitar textures of Matthew J. Rolin and the ethereal vocal atmospheres of Matchess’ Whitney Johnson in a driving, enveloping otherworld. Just gorgeous.

2. Oneida—Success (Joyful Noise): The best band of the aughts has dabbled in all manner of droning, experimental forms in recent years, but with Success, they return to basics. “Beat Me to the Punch” and “I Wanna Hold Your Electric Hand” are gleeful bangers. “Paralyzed” is a keyboard pulsing, beat-rattling psychedelic dreamworld. Success is Oneida’s best album since Secret Wars and maybe ever. (I wrote the one-sheet for Success, but I would feel this way regardless.)

3. Cate Le Bon—Pompeii (Drag City): Eerie, madcap Pompeii refracts pandemic alienation through the lens of ancient disaster, floating narcotic imagery atop herky-jerk rhythms. Abstract and experimental, but also sublimely pop, Pompeii haunts and charms in equal measure.

4. Destroyer—Labyrinthitis (Merge): Dan Bejar is always interesting, but the COVID lockdown seems to have shaken him loose a bit. Labyrinthitis is typically arch, elliptical and elegant, but also a bit unhinged. Hear it in the extended rap that closes “June” or in the manic disco beat of “Suffer” or oblique but perfect wordplay in “Tinoretto, It’s for You.”

5. Horsegirl—Versions of Modern Performance (Matador): Horsegirl elicits a lysergic roar that’s loud but somehow serene, urgent but chilled. The trio out of Chicago were everywhere suddenly and all at once, as sometimes happens to bands, but on the strength of “World of Pots and Pans” and “Billy” I suspect they’ll stick around.

6. Jake Xerxes Fussell—Good and Green Again (Paradise of Bachelors): An early favorite that refused to fade, Good and Green Again considers old-time music from a variety of angles, often incorporating more than one version of a traditional tune in a seamless way. The music is lovely, made more exquisite still by James Elkington’s arrangements, which are subtle, right and unexpected.

7. Lambchop—The Bible (Merge): Stark and lavish at the same time, The Bible catches Kurt Wagner at his morose and mesmerizing best. Surreal sonic textures—including orchestral flourishes and autotuned funk beats—wreathe his weathered baritone, as he traipses through ordinary landscapes turned strange and warped.

8. The Weather Station—How Is It That I Should Look at the Stars (Fat Possum): Tamara Lindeman drew on Toronto’s vibrant jazz community to form her band for this sixth album as the Weather Station. The band improvised alongside here as it learned the songs. As a result, these songs have the usual pristine folk purity, but also a haze of late night sophistication in elegant runs of piano and pensive plucks of bass.

9. The Reds, Pinks and Purples—Summer at Land’s End (Slumberland): Glenn Donaldson is pretty much the best at bittersweet jangle pop right now, and this wistful, graceful collection of songs about life’s dissatisfactions is every bit as good as last year’s Uncommon Weather. Plus it’s got a seven-plus minute improvised guitar piece right in the middle, what’s not to love?

10. Tha Retail Simps—Reverberant Scratch (Total Punk): Montreal’s Retail Simps make ferocious garage rock with a bit of soul in its tail feathers. “Hit and Run” sounds like a lost Sam and the Shams b-side and “End of Times – Hip Shaker” with having doing exactly that. If they ever remake Animal House, here’s the band.

25 more albums I loved:

Non Plus Temps—Desire Choir (Post-Present Medium)

Joan Shelley—The Spur (Important)

Mountain Goats—Bleed Out (Merge)

The Sadies—Colder Streams (Yep Roc)

Spiritualized—Everything Was Beautiful (Fat Possum)

Superchunk—Wild Loneliness (Merge)

Hammered Hulls—Careening (Dischord)

Kilynn Lunsford—Custodians of Human Succession (Ever/Never)

Oren Ambarchi/Johan Berthling/Andreas Werliin—Ghosted (Drag City)

Green/Blue—Paper Thin (Feel It)

E—Any Information (Silver Rocket)

Sick Thoughts—Heaven Is No Fun (Total Punk)

Pedro the Lion—Havasu (Polyvinyl)

Pan*American—The Patience Fader (Kranky)

Weak Signal—War & War (Colonel)

Frog Eyes—The Bees (Paper Bag)

Pinch Points—Process (Exploding in Sound)

LIFE—True North (The Liquid Label)

Mary Lattimore & Paul Sukeena—West Kensington (Three Lobed)

Wau Wau Collectif—Mariage (Sahel Sounds)

Vintage Crop—Kibitzer (Upset the Rhythm)

Anna Tivel—Outsiders (Mama Bird)

Chronophage—S-T (Post-Present Medium/Bruit Direct Disques)

Sélébéyone— Xaybu: The Unseen (Pi)

Zachary Cale—Skywriting (Org Music)

Jennifer Kelly

#dusted magazine #yearend 2022 #jennifer kelly #winged wheel #oneida #cate le bon #destroyer #horsegirl #jake xerxes fussell #lambchop #the weather station #the reds pinks and purples #tha retail simpls

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