University Mall. 1974-2013. Pensacola, FL. This mall was unusual in that it died even though the anchor stores were doing well (JCPenney and Sears are still standing today). It was severely damaged by Hurricane Ivan in 2004, and it sounds like parts of the mall were never really repaired. An outdoor mall called University Town Plaza is being built on the site of the former mall.
From rooftop views of the White House to the best Indian food in the city, Garrett M. Graff, former editor of Washingtonian magazine,reveals how to spend 48 hours in the capital.
08:00 – Like a local
It’s hard to miss the power and grandeur of Washington, the centre of the city remains a political powerhouse and it permeates nearly every corner, but there’s also much more to the city than simply politics.
After landing at Washington Dulles International Airport and you’ve settled in, start your morning like the locals with coffee and breakfast at the Tryst Coffeehouse in funky Adams Morgan, before heading up to the National Zoo (Smithsonian’s National Zoo and Conservation Biology Institute, to give it its full name). It’s seen a dramatic renovation in recent years that has turned its 163 acres into a shining gem filled with great exhibits from elephants and pandas to American buffalo. Entry is free and it’s open 364 days a year.
Noon – Power lunch
Recharge with a casual pub-style lunch at Duke’s Grocery on 17th Street NW (have the Proper Burger) or indulge in the city’s best Indian food at the fine dining Rasika in Penn Quarter, where you might very well find yourself dining next to a Cabinet member. Don’t miss the palaak chaat – crispy flash-fried spinach – that’s one of the city’s most-requested dishes.
14:00 – Read all about it
Spend the afternoon at the Newseum, the towering interactive museum of news, where you can revisit the world’s most notable events, and lose yourself for hours watching old footage and breaking news coverage. The Washington D.C. Explorer pass offers a package admission to the Newseum and other top D.C. sights like the International Spy Museum.
17:00 – No reservations
Getting into many of Washington’s hottest restaurants has grown harder in recent years, with some of the most popular adopting no reservations policies that can lead to long lines. At Bad Saint, a 24-seat Filipino restaurant – named as the second best new restaurant in the USA by Bon Appetit magazine in 2016 – lines can begin as early as 17:30.
Not up for waiting? Plan ahead with a reservation at Tail Up Goat, a Michelin-starred restaurant featuring creative Mediterranean and Caribbean food by chef Jon Sybert – expand your drinking horizons at the bar by following the lead of sommelier Bill Jensen.
08:00 – Morning rush
Breakfast at the Old Ebbitt Grill, one of the city’s oldest restaurants, usually packed with lobbyists and power players first thing in the morning before the tourist crowd sets in during the day.
09:00 – Famous figures
Across the Potomac River, Arlington National Cemetery is best known for its stark and formal Changing of the Guard ceremonies at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, honouring America’s war dead, but the 600-acre cemetery is home also to the graves of many famous figures like John F. Kennedy – marked with an eternal flame – boxer Joe Lewis, and Pierre L’Enfant, the architect who designed Washington. Save your feet and jump on the Hop-On, Hop-Off trolley.
Noon – Fit for a First Lady
Lunch on the Georgetown waterfront at Fiola Mare, the glimmering Italian seafood restaurant of chef Fabio Trabocchi – a favourite of Michelle Obama.
13:30 – Remember them
Spend the afternoon wandering ‘America’s Front Lawn’ on the National Mall, starting at the Lincoln Memorial and the Vietnam Wall, then up to the sunken World War II memorial, where you can see the emotional visits of buses filled with veterans, and gaze up at the Washington Monument. [NB the monument is closed until spring 2019 but can still be looked at].
14:30 – A history lesson
Nearby, take in Washington’s hottest new attraction, the giant National Museum of African-American History and Culture, honouring the artistic contributions of African-Americans while also wrestling with the nation’s still-unfolding racial legacy of slavery and civil rights. Plan ahead – or wake up early – to score timed-entry tickets, but it’s well worth the effort.
17:00 – Treats and eats
Spend the evening wandering the environs of 14th Street NW, which has been the centre of Washington’s revitalization over the last decade. Window-shop at the boutique Salt and Sundry, Detroit-made watches and leather goods at the city’s flagship Shinola store, or vintage and antiques at Miss Pixie’s, a long-time 14th Street fixture.
Once you’re hungry, the area has something for every palate: for the city’s swankiest French bistro, try Le Diplomate, where the breadbasket alone is worth the visit.
Prefer Latin American? Try Tico for its hibiscus margaritas, tacos, and a delicious shredded cabbage salad. Or, on nearby 17th Street NW, get in line for mouth-burning, authentic Thai food at Little Serow [NB Little Serow is shut for summer 2017, reopening 7 September] from one of Washington’s top chefs, Johnny Monis (if it’s a weeknight, be in line by 17:00 or 17:30 for dinner, if it’s a weekend, try even earlier). Once your name’s on the list, have a drink around the corner at Hank’s Oyster Bar while you wait.
Where to stay
W Washington D.C. – head up to the cocktail bar for presidential views down on the neighbouring White House.
Washington Hilton is home to many of the city’s black tie galas, including the star-studded spring White House Correspondents’ Association dinner.
Hilton Garden Inn is a new hotel in the city’s West End, you’ll be just around the corner from where former President Barack Obama has set up his new office.
Dean X Reader; Mary tells Dean that the reader cheated on him to stop him finding out about her (Mary) stealing from Ramiel.
Knocking on the door of the bunker, you shift on your heels outside of the place you used to call home. Palms sweaty, heart racing and you’re sure that you can smell the nervousness radiating from you.
The door opens, your now ex-boyfriend looking anything but jolly to see you on his doorstep. “Sorry, I already gave all my change to the homeless guy down the street.”
“I’m just here to get the rest of my stuff, then you’ll be clear of me for good.” Standing up straight, arms crossed against your chest, you hold your head up high, refusing to feel belittled by the man who tossed you away so easily.
He runs his tongue across his bottom lip arrogantly, a sarcastic smile on his face as he pulls open the door, inviting you inside begrudgingly. “Make it quick. Don’t take anything you didn’t pay for.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” you spit, striding past him angrily, the ache in your soul becoming even more prominent from being this close to Dean, yet knowing he’s no longer yours.
You pass Sam and Castiel in the kitchen, ignoring their judgemental gazes as you head to Dean’s room, to a bed that used to hold two bodies, not one.
Pushing all the memories within these walls away, you grab your suitcase from under the bed, flipping back the lid and throwing your belongings inside. You wanted to be out of this place as swiftly as you could be, your presence clearly unwanted.
“I’m surprised you had the nerve to show up here.” You look back over your shoulder, Mary leaning smugly against the door frame, your attention moving back to your suitcase. She was the reason you were packing in the first place, the lies she told Dean being the very statements to sever the ribbons of your relationship.
“Yeah? I’m surprised you’ve got the nerve to still be here.” you hiss, a bubble of laughter leaving her lips as she pushes you closer and closer to the edge, anger bubbling inside you. “Aren’t you afraid your web of lies will unravel?”
“Don’t be silly, sweetheart, my webs are perfectly crafted. My son will always believe his dear mommy over some worthless bitch.” Now it’s your turn to laugh, not a slither of humour in your tone. You skim your fingers over the white frame on the beside, the besotted couple grinning at the camera.
If someone had told you then, that just months down the line Mary would be alive and kicking, and she would be the very thing to rip your lover from your arms, you would’ve laughed in their face.
“You know what,” you spin around, your glare harsh enough to wound as you stare at the poisonous bitch in front of you. “I hope your boys never find out who you really are. It’d break them to know their mother almost killed their best friend.”
“Not only are you working for the British, but you disturbed the Prince of Hell, stole from him and then stood in silence as Castiel’s life drained from his eyes.”
Her expression turns colder as you taunt her, her lip quivering in anger, not being able to take the truth you’re dealing out. She makes her way towards you, fists clenching, as you speak aloud all the damage that she’s done. “Shut your mouth.”
You shake your head, standing up against her, refusing to cower under her wrath. “If you were my mom, I’d be wishing you’d have stayed on the ceiling.”
Smack! Your head sharply twists to the side as her hand makes contact with your cheek, smugness running through your veins with the knowledge that your words have hit home. “If you ever tell anybody about me stealing from Ramiel, I’ll cut your heart out.”
“She doesn’t need to tell me anything.” Mary jumps at the sound of the voice, your fingers rubbing your cheek, trying to soothe the sting. Dean enters the room, coming to stand by your side, his mother lost for words.
“Sweetheart, let me explain…” She trails off, the level of vexation in Dean’s eyes enough to shut her up. Her eyes move to you as you watch the scene unfold. “You little bitch-”
Dean pushes her back as she lunges for you, his broad figure standing protectively in front of your own, your heart clenching, hoping that maybe there is something left to salvage.
“I want you out of here, now. Don’t bother coming back.” Dean warns, the ice chill in his voice something you’d been faced with a few minutes before. Mary weighs up her options, before backing out of the room resentfully, a vengeful twinkle in her eyes.
Once she’s gone, you turn back to the task at hand, shoving your final few things into your suitcase, ignoring Dean’s burning stare on your back. You move around in silence, him not being brave enough to break it, and you wanting to hear an apology before anything else.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” You freeze at the question, Dean’s voice timid as it should be. Throwing the shirt in your grasp onto the bed, you turn to face the older brother, not being able to believe his arrogance.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t remember you giving me a chance to say anything when you believed your mom’s bullshit lies over me.” He looks down at the floor as you scold him, your eyes beginning to glaze over with due to frustration.
“I’m sorry-” you cut him off with a scoff, his emerald eyes as glassy as your own as he lifts them upwards to meet you. You want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him, tell him that everything is forgiven and you can go back to how it used to be.
“You weren’t sorry when you kicked me out in the pouring rain and called me a dirty whore.” The dam breaks, you cursing yourself as you turn your back on Dean, your fingers roughly swiping away the fallen tears.
You zip up your suitcase, thankful you’ll be alone in a few minutes and able to sob to your hearts content without prying eyes. “What are you doing? Don’t go.”
“What does it look like I’m doing, Dean?” you sniffle, grasping the handle of the case and holding the heavy object to your side. “I want you to be happy, and if that means me leaving, then so be it.”
You shove past the older Winchester, your chin quivering as you somehow hold in your cries. You let out a shaky breath as a hand grabs your arm, Dean’s warm touch stopping you in your tracks.
“Stay. All I want is for you to stay.” he pleads, his throat thick with emotion. You turn your head, his glassy eyes meeting your own, a desperate look on his face.
After what feels like hours of silence, you make your decision. “Five minutes. Let’s see how well you do.”
A/N - Thanks for all the support on my last Dean imagine, it was incredibleeeeeeee!!! Feel free to request :) now, gif before the imagine, or after??? Let me know! X
Summary:Distance is a cruel thing, and when you find yourself going astray, they are there to help remind you of just where exactly you belong.
Warnings: Explicit smut. Includes M/M smut as well. Slight angst. D/s themes.
a/n: 11k of smut. This is a new low.
“Well, what do we have here?”
Voice thick with irritation,
spitefulness leaking from plush lips that supported the thin
cigarette hung loosely from his teeth, a threatening gaze sized you
up and left you feeling defenseless and weak under the scrutiny of
coffee eyes, depths uncertain and unknown.
You weren’t exactly sure how you
managed to find yourself in this predicament, hands held at the small
of your back, wrists overlapping each other as a much stronger hold
pinned you in place. You could feel the drumming of Hoseok’s
heartbeat against your shoulder, grip tightening around your skin as
you poorly attempted to gain back any control you once had, which
hadn’t been very much to begin with.
Inside the Agent’s Lounge, there’s the comforting drone of conversation, the clink of glasses and the scrape of chairs on the durasteel floor, a little music, and an air of almost normalcy. Here, agents can mingle and relax; they can be themselves beyond the weight and responsibility of titles and designations and roles. It’s not crowded all the time like it is now - sometimes, it’s the one place in Headquarters that’s completely deserted - but between the hours of 1500 and 2300, it’s a bustling and cheerful, if generally well-mannered, establishment.
Inside the Agent’s Lounge, there is a staircase. It climbs the back wall, but no one really talks about it, because it wraps over the memorial and everyone already knows where it goes.
As a brand new Cipher, you know too, but you haven’t drummed up the courage to visit the Cipher’s Lounge yet.
It’s the exclusive part of this little section of Headquarters - Ciphers or invitation-only. That’s an understood rule; no one will throw you out if you’re graceless enough to ascend as a regular agent, but everyone observes it out of respect.
Ciphers aren’t like other agents. No one can understand an agent like another agent … but no one understands Ciphers except their own.
It’s said that a Cipher’s lifespan is five years. It’s a literal statement, and you know this, but the prestige, respect, the prospect of independence, and the secrecy and excitement wouldn’t let you say no - even if you could. You feel you can beat the odds. You’re good, and you’re resilient, in a way a lot of other people aren’t.
But the memorial on the back wall and the slight, but discernable, hush whenever someone does climb the staircase tell you that other agents notice the darker aspects of the Cipher’s life.
Or maybe it’s just the fame, you tell yourself. There are a few Cipher agents you’re still nervous about meeting in person.
The memorial is subdued, yet elegant. Crafted from rare starstone, it’s polished to a surface so smooth and frictionless your fingers seem to bead and slide off like water. It resembles an expanse of the galaxy itself - deep, rich black and glinting matter-of-factly with twinkling stars and the blue-purple iridescence of nebulae and stardust. No one piece of the stone is like any other, and it seems to change in the reflection of the lounge’s lighting as you walk around the room.
Set deeply into the stone wall and contrasting sharply with the darkness are glittering white crystals carved into faceted eight-pointed stars. They’re large, for a crystal, each about the size of your palm, and they refract the light into tiny sparks and flickers of rainbow. Rumor has it that each one is a rare Durindfire gem from Tatooine, but Intelligence has never issued an official statement regarding what they are or where they’re mined from. It’s one of the many closely-held secrets you’ve yet to learn, and there are whisperings that they may have some kind of faint Force signature. Regardless, there’s no way for you to tell, and Intelligence has shown no indication of confessing to anything. This is one secret to which they cling tightly, and the Sith either aren’t fully aware or don’t care.
But it is clear that Intelligence takes their memorial seriously.
Live fully. Love deeply. Serve completely.
The Cipher motto.
A Cipher never dies.
You know it’s not true, but it almost feels like it, when you press your palm to the hard coolness of one of the starcrystals and a hologram of a Cipher appears.
You don’t know this one, and there are no names. But as you’re still getting used to the loss of your own name, you find it’s oddly appropriate - removed from the cold, impersonal Cipher designation, the image is probably the closest you can get to the real person behind the number. Someone remembers them. You have friends who know by heart which stars belong to their Ciphers. Both MIA and KIA have made it here, and the occasional regular granted honorary-Cipher status in recognition of some monumental, final act.
At the bottom of the wall, you find the traditional Cipher non-farewell:
Until we meet again … On the other side of tomorrow.
Perhaps a bit of superstition. Ciphers never say goodbye. But they know. You’ve yet to really know like they do. Still, you’ve heard this before, and some regular agents have adopted the phrase, or variations thereof. Everybody wants to come back, someday.
Walking away from the wall, you still feel optimistic. But it’s a sobering, melancholic reminder and there is still plenty of space on the wall.
You just hope that, perhaps one day - a long time from now - you will have made enough of an impact to be granted an immortal star of your own.
So this was kind of an experiment, but I’ve been mulling over this concept for a while and decided I finally had to do something about it.
To get a place for your Cipher on the wall, send me a high-res screenshot and their name!!
Must be an MIA/KIA Cipher.
The MIA/KIA can occur at any point in your Cipher’s story, even if it hasn’t “officially” happened yet.
As long as they are MIA/KIA from Imperial Intelligence’s official perspective, it’s fine! In other words, if your Cipher faked their death or appears dead or missing in Intel records, I’ll still make a star for you. :)
No regular, non-Cipher agents, unless they went MIA/KIA during some great, above-and-beyond service to Intelligence or the Empire. In that case, they are granted honorary Cipher status.
Please send me your Ciphers so I can recognize them, and reblog to spread the woooord.
I feel weird not including the Cipher names in the memorial, but given the forbidden real name thing (and possible still-living relatives), it seems most appropriate to go without. I’m mulling over ideas to include them in a non-obvious way so people can learn who your Cipher is/was, but I haven’t gotten there yet.
This is totally my own Cipher headcanon, but please feel free to adopt/adapt the concept to use for yourself. :)
(If this doesn’t work so well on mobile, I’m sorry in advance, but I got nothin’ I frakenstein all my code. XD Also it’s pretty dark, so I don’t know how it’ll turn out on other monitors.)
at six in the morning by Rona Keller Via Flickr: over the horizon
through the trees
into my home
My favourite light in the world at this point in time is these spots on my wall in the early morning. ✨
I took this picture at the Vietnam Traveling Wall which is on display at Gateway Park in El Mirage today. The little girl in the background just happened to walk into my picture, the moment I snapped it and it couldn’t be any better of a moment. The look on her face, tells it all. Soldiers goes off to war and one way or another, they always come home; either to be greeted by their love ones or in a box carried by their love ones. Either way they lost something, their lives, their sanity, their marriage, their home; they’ve made the ultimate sacrifice for us, this country and the flag; it’s reason such as this the reason why I stand during the National Anthem. But this little girl, I don’t know who she is, but does she know what she’s looking at and what it all means, the sacrifice made for her? We can only imagine.
Memory: I’ve burn them but I still keep the ashes in the edge of my bed.
[MEMORY HIT BACK: I’LL BURN YOU EVEN MORE]
Memory: Why do you make me feel like I had to forget you to be okay again? Why do I have to turn everything into nothing?
[MEMORY HIT BACK: STOP DRAMATIZING, IT WAS NOTHING IN THE FIRST PLACE]
Memory: On my walls are clocks from different memory lane, all going backwards. One is where i fell in love. Two is the doubt. Three is when we left each other. The rest is me trying to be okay with absence.
Memory: It has a sharp edge and it glides always from the good one to the bad one until everything’s bad now. Everything’s bad now but I let it glides all over me every time.
[MEMORY HIT BACK: YOU ARE THE ONE WHO HOLD THE END OF THIS KNIFE. YOU ARE THE ONE WHO GLIDES ME]
Memory: I’m sorry but I need to evict you out of this room. You’re taking too much space. Been awhile since the last time you pay rent. I had too much of the better things lately. I had no space left for you.
[MEMORY HIT BACK: THANK GOD, THIS ROOM IS A BAD PLACE]
hazyaffection // I HAD A TALK WITH MEMORY, I SAID IT’S BEEN A PLEASURE, PLEASE GET OUT