clearing new york

The 14th Street-Union Square Station on the Lexington Avenue Line. Please stand clear of the moving platforms as trains enter and leave the station.


tea-ring  asked:

So an interesting new building is coming about, and I was wondering if you can answer some of the burning questions some people have. I sent a link to your Submit box. Enjoy. <3

The Big Bend concept created by Oiio Studio, is just that, a concept. The idea created some sexy images, I must admit, and is a great marketing ploy by the firm that created it but one that is at its source either misinformed or ignorant of how zoning laws work. Something that becomes clear in statements like “New York city’s zoning laws have created a peculiar set of tricks trough which developers try to maximize their property’s height in order to infuse it with the prestige of a high rise structure. But what if we substituted height with length? What if our buildings were long instead of tall?” That is why their website kind of makes fun at everyone else’s inability of thinking of it first instead of developing some hard facts about how to get it built.

Also, bottom line is that the cost of any speculative development structure needs to be justified by how much you can sell each square feet. You would probably get more return on your investment by having two independent towers on the same plot of land. 

Maybe I will be proven wrong, maybe I am sometimes to cynical, but wouldn’t any developer get the same amount of sellable area, at a lower construction cost, by making the floor plate twice as big and topping that building with a giant Dyson fan?

anonymous asked:

I was thinking how jack would get a street bike bc why not and bitty would freak out everytime jack is traveling in it.

I had to stare at this for a few minutes to make sure this message was meant for me. (Mostly because I’ve never had any zimbits content floated by me before?) ANYWAY, you hit one of my weaknesses–motorcycles. So please enjoy, anon, for the first time ever (seriously): my attempt at zimbits. 

Bitty follows Jack out of the apartment right on his heels. Normally, Bitty would complain about it being too early and too cold to walk without his slippers on. It amused Jack to no end when he could chirp him for acting like an old man. Jack got enough of those himself, it’s nice when he gets to dole it out in kind. Bitty rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet as they wait for the elevator. Jack takes the opportunity to wrap his arm around Bitty’s waist, feathering a kiss on his temple.

The elevator dings, doors sliding open slowly. Jack presses the button for the parking garage once they’re inside. In the corner of his eye, he sees Bitty clasping his hands behind his back and bowing slightly. Jack sucks on his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling.

“You’ve got your helmet?” Bitty asks when the elevator starts moving.

“Yes,” he says as he lifts his helmet in front of them.

Bitty nods. Then after a moment—“And your jacket?”


“And your—”

“Yes these are the right pants. Yes we’ll stop every two hours to stretch,” Jack says with a twitch of his lips.

He turns, tapping Bitty’s nose with his index finger. “And yes, we have to take the highway.”  

Bitty pouts, crossing his arms indignantly. He’s never been a fan of Jack’s bike; and if it were up to him, he’d probably have sold it for scraps by now. Still, Jack gets a warm rush under his skin every time he goes out on a ride with Ransom and Holster. Bitty frets which reminds him that he’s loved and cared for, and he gets to act like a reckless twenty seven year old hanging out with his friends.

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Red & Silver (Part 8)

Summary:Reader befriends Natasha Romanoff in the Red Room, but Natasha has a lucky escape. She manages to join the Avengers, leaving the reader to be recruited by HYDRA and turned into an ultimate weapon to replace the one they lost.

Warnings: swearing, fluff (if that’s a warning?)

Word count: 1589

Italics is Bucky’s POV

Catch up here.

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The realization

Percival is not really sure when he has fallen in love, but he realises it when it’s too late. Because he’s already into deep and knows there’s no coming back from it.

He should’ve realized, because now that he thinks of it, it’s been pretty obvious since the start. There’s been signals; like how he gives Newt every single permit he needs to keep his highly dangerous creatures in his case, like how now he has Newt’s favorite tea brands in his office or how it doesn’t bother him when the Niffler gets in his office and steals his pocket watch, because that means an adorably embarrassed magizoologist would stumble in his office to mumble an apology and return the stolen object.

But when he realises is many days later, when Newt Scamander walks in his office at night and starts to talk about how Pickett still refuses to go back to his tree and that he’s truly worried because the bowtruckle needs to spend at least a little time with his own kin. And he’s moving his hands out of excitement and there’s a smile on his face when he mentions Pickett has become a great companion, but he’s also very stubborn…

And Percival relaxes hearing him talk. He even grins at him like an idiot and looks at those freckles that reminds him the clear night in New York, when there are no clouds and the sky is full of stars.

Then a traitorous thought sneaks in his mind, little by little, filling him with imagines of Newt's​ curls shining in the sun, his bright eyes and the sound of his laughter waking him up in the morning or being the last thing he hears at night… And the thoughts turn into words shaking his entire being after listening to them: he wants to have Newt by his side for the rest of his life.

The realization scares him. There must be something in his eyes because suddenly Newt stops and looks at him, worried.

“Are you okay, Percival?” He asks, his pretty eyes roaming over his face, looking for an answer.

“Yes. I am.” He says, trying to look as indifferent as possible. “I’m just… I’m tired.”

“Oh!” Newt blushes, embarrassed. “You have so much work to do and I’m just distracting you… I’m so sorry! I’ll leave immediately.”

“No, that’s not-” Percival tries to stop him, but the wizard storms out of the office before he can finish.

No, please. Don’t go, Newt. He closes his eyes and sits back on his chair.

It gets worse. Now that he knows he can’t stop himself from staring at him (he makes sure Newt is not paying attention when he does, of course). He can’t stop from trying to touch and to spend as much time as he can with him.

And he tells himself he can live like this. He can be perfectly happy just by being Newt’s friend.

He’s so wrong. So very wrong. And he realises it when he sees one of the new aurors trying to flirt with HIS Newt.

The wizard is looking at him and smiling like the fucking idiot he is while Newt is explaining how important is to maintain eye contact with a hippogriff before approaching them. Then, the bastard says something he can’t hear and Newt blushes so much Percival wants to hex the hell out of the satisfied smile that appears on the auror’s face.

But he doesn’t, instead he approaches them and stands behind Newt like a terrifying shadows and glares at the wizard. The boy pales and runs away before Newt can ask what’s going on.

He turns around and sees Percival. Newt smiles at him, not knowing the Director was the cause of the auror’s panic​.

Newt, so precious and oblivious Newt.

Percival clears his throat, suddenly aware that if he doesn’t do something now someone will eventually steal Newt from him and since hexing the magizoologist suitors is not a reasonable option he must think of something else.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” He blurts out before he can stop himself.

Newt blinks at him, confused.

“A date,” he makes it clear, because that’s the only way to get Newt to understand.

He loves the way Newt’s blush starts spreading down his cheeks to his neck. He wonders if he’ll have a chance to see how far it goes.

The silence lasts too long and Percival thinks he has made a terrible mistake, because not only Newt will reject him, he’ll feel so uncomfortable around him he’ll put an end to their friendship.

But then, oh sweet Mercy Lewis, he smiles so bright at him.

“I’d love to.”

Percival feels alive again.


CHARACTER : Sebastian Stan! Actor / reader

AUTHOR : loricameback / loriwrites

GENRE : smut, dirty talk, voyeurism, praise kink





Sebastian opened the door to the suite and my breath hitched. “Oh Sebby, it’s gorgeous.” The room was fully furnished with a couch, love seat and 2 chairs, all in brown. The walls were cream with accents of brown and gold and off to the left was the bedroom complete with a king sized bed and nightstands.

Sebastian, standing behind me, weaved his muscular arms (thank you Don) around my waist and nuzzled my neck. “Only the best for my girl.” He gently kissed me and I got goosebumps.

Swinging around, I hugged him and pulled him into the room to the window, giddy as a little girl on Christmas morning. I breathed, “Sebby looooook,” it was a clear New York City night. The Empire State Building was directly ahead and lit up along with the other skyscrapers and streets below. I looked over at him and he was smiling at me, the corners of his eyes crinkled.

I felt my face redden. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“You are just like an innocent child, looking at everything as if it were brand new.” He pecked me on the nose. “It’s adorable.”

I arched an eyebrow at him, a smirk on my lips. “Adorable, huh?” In a split second, I grabbed him by the neck and kissed him, a muffled “whoa” and moans of pleasure heard as my tongue did a searching sweep for his, rolling around his as I shoved him against the wall, unbuttoning his shirt, and groaned with lust in his mouth.

He gave into me, his body limp as I removed his shirt leaving him bare-chested. My hands fell to his chest, fingers running up and down his amazing pecs. When I broke off the kiss, my breath was ragged. “You may regret…or…“ I shrugged. “Nah, you’d like what I have in store for you.” My knee spread his legs apart and I cupped my hand over his bulge pressing hard against his jeans.

Sebastian tilt his head, smiling as he slowly reached my face. Our foreheads touched and he said, “So are you gonna make me wait to fuck you or are you going to torture me?”

Sebastian’s voice was low and dripping with lust. I closed my eyes and chuckled, but actually I wanted to tear the rest of our clothes off and ride him hard. Instead I kissed him passionately to shut him up. He unzipped my dress and it fell in a pool around my feet. “Leave on the heels,” he moaned against my lips. I took his pants and briefs down and slowly caressed his cock with the tips of my fingers. After we were completely naked, I pulled him to the bed and over me. “Sebby, I want you in my mouth. Fuck my mouth baby.” My smile spread slowly across my face and I licked my lips. “Please.”

Sebastian caressed my cheek and mewled with half opened eyes, “Begging so pretty. Such a good girl.” Climbing over me, his hard throbbing cock wet with precum, he said, “Open wide doll.”

My tongue circled the head, sucking the precum then took more of him as he lowered himself. I moaned around his cock, feeling a moment of pride as I watch his eyes flutter closed and his head fall back from the pleasure. He then looked down at me, and when I whined, he waggled his brows. “Do you want all of it baby?”

The desperate plea in my whine pleased him. He slowly lowered as far as he could, and again I moaned. After a comfortable rhythm was attained, I could concentrate on his gorgeous face. His teeth biting into his lower lip and the long moans coming from deep within his throat could make me come alone.

After a few minutes, his moans became louder. “In your m-mouth babe.” I smiled and massaged his balls, making him yell out my name. He burst into my mouth so quickly I couldn’t swallow all of it. Some ran out of my mouth and down my chin. Our eyes met as he finished. He moved strands of hair behind my ear and breathed, “Aaaahhh, good girl.”

I giggled, wiping my mouth as he removed himself. Sliding down my body, his limp cock leaving a trail of sticky come down my chest, he stopped to lick my lips and stick his tongue in my mouth, tasting the mixture of both of us. We moaned simultaneously and his fingers were circling around my pussy.

I jerked and my eyes widened. He raised an eyebrow at me and began a slow descent south. My hands were running through his hair and yes, even pushing him down impatiently. Raising my hips to him I begged, “Sebby, lick me.”

His nose was touching my clit, inhaling my scent. “Oh baby, only you. Only you smell like this.” Sebastian ran his tongue excruciatingly slow, lapping from slit to clit, fluttering his eyes closed, then sucked on my clit. “Mmmmm…taste like this.” He ran his fingers through my pussy, and ran them over my lips. I opened my mouth and sucked on his fingers, rolling my tongue around them. “Sooo good baby.”

His low voice was sexy. “Sebby,” I whined. “Please.“

He chuckled, a wicked smile on his face. “Please what? Say what you want doll.”

My body was about to explode. I covered my face with a pillow and groaned in frustration. “Please lick me! Suck me! Make me come on your face!!”

“That’s a good girl.” Spreading my legs and looking at me with hooded eyes, he licked my clit. The squelching sounds were all I could hear as he sucked. “You are so wet for me sweetheart. So deliciously wet.”

Arching my hips, I whined, “Sebby please, soooo good. Please.” He laughed, then pushed two fingers in my cunt, scissoring back and forth as he continued to lick circles around my clit. My head fell back. “Fuuuuuck.” I clenched around his fingers and he pumped faster.

Between my moans I could hear him growl “Mine.” “You’re mine.”

My thighs were shaking and I pushed on his head deeper on my pussy as I came on his face. Arching my hips to his mouth I could watch Sebastian drink me, slurping as he grabbed my ass like he was trying to meld us into one.

When I reached my peak, I giggled and playfully pushed him away. “You, Mr Stan are evil, and must be punished.”

“And how do you plan on punishing me baby doll?” He asked, wiggling his brows and smirking.

Biting my finger, smiling as I looked at his gorgeous naked form, I knew what to do and my heart began beating harder. I stood up, and held out my hands. “Trust me?”

“When we’re both naked and you have the ‘cat that caught the canary smile’ on your face? Hell no!”

With all my might, I pulled him up and led him to the balcony. He stood behind me as we looked at the city…but more importantly, at the hotel across the street, where there were people on balconies on several different floors. I lean back on him and purred, “It’s a beautiful night to get fucked outside Seb.”

His flaccid cock was twitching to life. Leaning down to lick my ear, he whispered, “You are a very bad girl, you know that?”

I took his hand and pulled him onto the balcony and pushed him in the chair to his delight. “Uh-huh.” Straddling his lap and rubbing his cock over my clit, I hesitated and looked over my shoulder. Sebastian leaned in to take a nipple in his mouth and sucked, as he caressed the other. “Mmmmm, Sebby you are so good with that mouth.”

I lowered myself on his cock and rode him slowly, my hands digging into his muscular shoulders. He moaned around my nipple, looking up at me with sparkling eyes. “Your mouth is heaven doll.” He thrust up hard and my head fell back, my teeth biting into my lip. Our thrusts matched perfectly. Behind me, I heard a few people yelling at and about us. It was absolutely arousing.

“We’re being watched Sebby.” My breathing increased and my heart ran fast. “They want a show. How bout it? Let’s wave to our fans and you can pound me against the wall, hmmm?”

Sebastian’s eyes were completely black and he licked his lips. “Babe, I’m going to pound you INTO the wall!” My smile was slow and devious. He pushed me off his lap and we stood up. People were cheering.

“Damn Sebby, I’m fuckin dripping! I need you now!”

He pushed me against the wall and kicked my legs apart. Within 2 seconds, he thrust balls deep in me, and I screamed out “YES!!” The word was echoed from across the street.

Sebastian kissed my neck as he thrust into me. “You love people watching us, hmmm? But they don’t get to see you baby.” He chuckled and spun me around, lift me up and I wrapped my legs around him. He began fucking me as he held me, my ass for all to see.

“God Sebby, that’s so good. Mmmmm…you don’t mind that there are people staring at my ass?”

He narrowed his eyes and grabbed my ass. “Baby, this ass is mine. They can look all they want at your perfect body, but this is mine.” Sebastian’s face was full of desire and his voice challenging…the most erotic thing I had ever seen.

“I’m gonna fuckin come all over your cock baby.” I moaned into his shoulder. “Yours Sebby. Only yours.” I screamed his name as he pushed me up against the wall, clenching around his cock. The waves of heat that were flowing through me were constant.

“Mine!” Another orgasm ripped through me. “So beautiful when you come. Good girl. I gotcha.” I clung to him limp and satisfied.

“Do you think any of your fans are over there?” I giggled in his ear as he threw me over his shoulder and we went back inside before he found out.

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Julie Kent and Marcelo Gomes in Clear, American Ballet Theatre, New York, November 2013. © Gene Schiavone.

Gomes is a justifiably beloved dancer with enormous panache. A solitary female (Kent) periodically glides through, only to return for a final pas de deux in which she is lifted, carried, tossed, flipped and swung by Mr. Gomes. With the final notes, the two reach searchingly toward an overhead spot.

How to get hired when you don’t know what you’re doing

In order to become fully versed in the art of talking your way into positions far beyond your skill set, you have to understand — to the very core of your being — that the person interviewing you is as incompetent as you. You need to look into their eyes and see the blagger staring back at you. This is crucial. Confidence in your future employer’s bemusement at how they ended up in their job is as important as your befuddlement. You are the same — two clueless bodies entwined in a surreal employment dance. Neither party knowing quite how the planets aligned, enabling this moment to be.

BUT, don’t mistake (your own or others’) incompetence for lack of talent. Talent comes in all shapes and forms, and ascendance up the corporate ladder is a talent in and of itself. The nuanced variations of the hustle up that ladder are yours alone; all I’d say on the subject is when you see an opportunity, throw yourself at it.

For me, my life changed one grey October morning in 2008 when I arrived uncharacteristically early at the Guardian offices in London, and was greeted by a ringing phone. On the other end of the phone was a man called Jim Kelly, who’d been sent some work I’d done years before. He was looking for someone to redesign a magazine called Businessweek, and wondered whether I’d like to throw my hat in. A door opened just a bit, an ambition to work in New York that felt unattainable now seemed graspable. I never thought I’d get the redesign, that would surely go to an agency, someone who knew what they were doing. But — they’d need a new creative director to implement the design, that was my aim.

Something happened over those few weeks between that phone call with Jim, and when I arrived a few weeks later in New York to present. I started to believe. I felt that confidence you get when you understand the brief better than your client does. So when I woke up early that morning right at the end of December on a frigid, New York, clear-as-crystal winter day, walking to the Bloomberg offices, I knew the magazine they wanted forward, backwards, sideways. I believed so strongly in it, that I was able to talk about it in the present tense, rather than future. Like it was there in front of me. That it was to be.

At times like this, it’s also useful to emphasise the importance of ‘the journey’. Journeys sound optimistic, exciting. And they’re nice coveralls too. A journey implies adventure, fortitude, obstacles and victories. Vanquishable opponents created, targets targeted. Someone once said of a place I worked that nothing good ever happened that wasn’t a conspiracy — a renegade operation operating on a counter-narrative. People love that shit. It gives purpose and shape to otherwise established and calcified daily routines. Be the adventurer. This instills a tight bond of trust with those you’re presenting too. We all want to feel part of something. Some people are happy for that to be our family, a sports team, church, a political persuasion, others seek this personal narrative through corporate affiliations, where companies become a cypher for a need to belong to something, investing emotional capital and self-esteem in the trials and tribulations of the offices they work in. You may be repelled by even the suggestion of that, but I would suggest it’s not an unhelpful strategy — when seeking employment — to at least pretend to buy into it. If nothing else, it shows the sort of baseline commitment expected of any new employee.

Indeed, presenting yourself as the adventurer might be your only strategy if you find yourself in a situation where none of your skills have any apparent application to the position you’re interviewing for. This is when you need to pivot into explaining how your current skills, applied to a different form, will have a hitherto unforeseen transformational effect. I got hired by MTV primarily because of the Businessweek covers, and the hope was that similar thinking could be applied to short animated bumpers. That I had never animated anything before was given lesser significance than the implication we were entering a brave new world where print and TV could inform each other. We would adventure together.

Did I know what I was doing? No. But it sounded like a good idea at the time. And we learnt — well, I learnt. And one thing you learn over and over is that no one knows what they’re doing. And if they do claim to know what they’re doing, the chances are they’re terrified that the thing they know how to do is about to become irrelevant at best, obsolete at worst. You see, things move quickly in the corporate world whilst never actually changing much, but fluidity matters, or at least the illusion of fluidity. Picture a fast moving, undulating river, full of energy and momentum, life, fish, children at play, canoeists; an artery of life for the land it touches. Now picture a large crumbling concrete dam (built in more prosperous times) traversing that river, harnessing the energy, stopping it, preventing movement.

Welcome to corporate life.

(Wrote this for Computer Arts magazine last year)

we all burn as one

Pairing: Joe Blake/Juliana Crain
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, mentions of canon-typical violence.
Summary: This takes place sometime during season two but is largely canon divergent. A story wherein Joe Blake starts to suspect what his father is up to, and reaches out to John Smith for help. He doesn’t expect the voice that greets him on the other end of the line. 
Author’s Note: Special thanks to @ariadnequagmire for convincing me to write this/generally freaking out over this pairing with me.

It takes him two days after he realizes his father wants to turn the entire Reich inside out before he calls John Smith.

He’s not sure why – after all, he has no reason to trust the man, and the same goes the other way. The Obergruppenführer gave him orders, and Joe defied those orders at every turn. Not only that, but he practically worked with the Resistance.

He’s a traitor.

There’s no reason why John Smith should help him now.

When he gets back to the mansion, he picks up the phone. He hates himself for it, because he let John Smith manipulate him at every turn, but he has no other choice. He has no one left to turn to.

The rings seem to go on forever, and just when his heart rate starts to pick up, a voice answers on the other end of the line.

“Smith residence.”

Joe freezes, phone pressed to his ear, blood frozen in his veins.


He can’t speak. He can’t open his mouth because it’s her. He would know that voice anywhere – he hears it in his dreams, and in his wildest fantasies when he’s running on too little sleep.

“Juliana.” He croaks, and he knows he’s not imagining the hitch of breath he hears on the other end of the line.

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