#real estate in angeles city

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1816 Commercial Sta Cruz Porac

Own a piece of prime commercial real estate! This 1816 sqm corner lot property in Porac is highly commercial and strategically located near Angeles City. Ideal for businesses seeking high traffic and excellent visibility. Contact JM Listings today to st

Commercial Property in Sta Cruz Porac near Angeles and Clark 📍Angeles-Porac Road Brgy Sta Cruz, Porac Pampanga PROPERTY FEATURES TYPE: Commercial Property📐 Lot: 1,816 square meters more or less✅ Corner Unit✅ Highly commercial, very near Angeles City NEARBY POINTS OF INTEREST Alfamart Sta Cruz Porac Pampanga • Dona Adela Subd Ph 1 • Holy Family Academy • Cutcut Flyover • Fil-Am Friendship…

[iliketoseeeverythinginneon]

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[aanews69]

Delve into the heart-pounding drama of a million-dollar yacht explosion that rocked Marina del Rey! What begins as a serene sunset transforms into a fiery sp...

[joelscurls]

I wanna show you off

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 4.1k

summary: The women who live in your building aren't subtle in their hatred for you — or their affection for your boyfriend, Joel. You decide to set them straight.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, porn with plot, no outbreak, established relationship, implied age gap, horrible neighbors, general cattiness, all the ladies want Joel, alcohol consumption, fluff, explicit smut, possessive!reader, exhibitionism, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), facefucking, unprotected piv, creampie, one (1) spank, use of pet names (baby, angel, darlin', etc.), I think that's all? lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: idk what happened. I saw one too many tiktok edits set to the song agora hills by doja cat and blacked out. anyway, enjoy!

If it weren’t for your rent-controlled apartment with a perfect view of the downtown skyline, you would’ve moved out of your building by now.

Your neighbors don’t like you. You’re certain of it. You can tell by the way the ladies stick their noses up at you in the elevator and whisper to each other the second they think you’re out of earshot.

It had started, you suspect, because of your age. You’re a lot younger than all of the other residents here, your apartment left to you by your grandmother after she passed away.

The building is prime real estate, situated in the heart of one of the city’s most desirable neighborhoods. Most of the people who live here have done so for ten, twenty, even thirty years. And it seems that time has festered a sort of social hierarchy: one which places you at the very bottom.

You shouldn’t care. And you hadn’t, for a while. But their eyes have started to feel like daggers, pointed directly at you at all times, and you feel as if you can’t even enter the building without judgment.

You’re not a bad neighbor. You’re not. You’d learned through living in a dormitory in college how thin shared walls can be, and, as a result, the proper volume at which to keep your music; how you should always be cautious to not let your door slam closed on the way in; that you should never vacuum after eight pm or before eight am.

You never leave trash in the hallway, and you park your car only in your allotted spot, despite the fact that it’s the farthest away from the building.

Even so, the lack of weathering in your face makes them look at you like you’re less, like you’re a greedy little thing who has taken something she isn’t worthy of.

It’s the same way they look at you when they see you with your boyfriend, Joel, for the first time.

They leer when you walk into the foyer, hand-in-hand with an older man. He’s handsome, rugged, something out of Nicholas Sparks novel. And you’re you.

Joel thinks you’re being paranoid at first, says they couldn’t possibly hate such a sweet, friendly girl. The girl he loves so damn much. But it doesn’t take long for him to notice it too: the glares, the scoffs, the misplaced judgment — never set in his direction, only ever yours.

One Sunday afternoon, as he sits on your couch watching the Cowboys game with a sweating bottle of beer in his hand, you step out to grab your mail. You’re close to tears when you return, flinging the door open, envelopes slipping from your trembling fingers. 

He leaps up as soon as he catches sight of your face. Your expression is stuck somewhere between sadness and rage, bottom lip tucked between your teeth so firmly he worries you’ll draw blood.

“I hate them,” you sob as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his broad chest. You’re wetting his shirt, the one he just bought the other day. But he won’t let you lift your head. If anything, he holds you tighter.

“Wanna tell me what happened, darlin?” he asks, leading you toward the couch. You sit down together, your body still wrapped in his, and you groan.

“It’s stupid.” Your voice is muffled by cotton. He loosens his grip on you only enough to let you turn your face. “I was getting my mail, and they were down in the lobby,” you sniff. “The woman who lives right next door – the one with the outdated perm, and the one across the hall with the yippy little dog.”

“Mhm,” Joel soothes, running his thumb gently along the tense line of your jaw. “Did they say somethin’ to you?”

You huff. “No, not to me. They didn’t see me there.”

Their hushed voices still ring in your head like a fire alarm in need of new batteries: relentless, infuriating.

Don’t know what in the world a handsome gentleman like that is doing with a little girl like her. You’re tellin’ me. What a shame. Such a young thing – she can’t possibly know how to handle a man like that. He needs a woman his own age!

“They said I’m not good for you,” you weep. “That I’m too young. That I — I c-can’t be what you need.”

“Darlin,” Joel drawls. He fishes the tv remote off of the coffee table and flicks the screen off. Drops it somewhere next to him on the cushion. The apartment is noticeably quiet now, apart from your shaky breaths and the dull drone of an idling truck engine from the street below.

“You know I love you, right?” 

You sniff again. Nod. 

“I don’t give a shit if people think you’re too young for me,” he huffs. “You’re a grown woman. You give me everything I could possibly need and then some.”

“Yeah?” you squeak. You know deep down that Joel wouldn’t stay with you if he had any reservations about any aspect of your relationship. But after months of no reprieve from stinging glares and brash insults, you feel as if you’ve been broken down, reduced to an anxious, overwrought version of yourself. 

Joel repositions himself, sprawling back on the couch and pulling you with him so that you’re laying against him. “Yeah,” he repeats, stroking your hair. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, away from your glassy eyes. “Those ladies can get their asses in line.” 

You laugh, then — a real, genuine laugh — the kind that Joel can somehow always pull out of you, even in the most inopportune of times.

You’re so grateful for him, for his innate ability to calm you down when it feels like the world is crumbling below your feet. Grateful that he’s yours.

You lift your head. Prop yourself up by the elbow on Joel’s thigh. Wipe away the lingering wet on your cheeks with a deep, settling breath. 

“Does it stroke your ego, having a fan club of women who wanna fuck you?”

He smirks. Pulls you closer to him with a hand cradling your face. 

“Maybe a little,” he whispers, his lips ghosting yours. “Does it stroke your ego, bein’ the only one who gets to fuck me?” 

And in truth, it does. You’re the only one who knows where he likes to be kissed, how he likes his cock stroked, how to make him cum embarrassingly quick with just your mouth.

You’ve learned him intimately, every inch of him.  Ruined him for any other woman.

So in a fucked up kind of way — it does.

“Yeah,” you admit. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, silently reveling in the way he immediately moans, the way he bends to you.

“These all mine?” You bring a finger to his lips, sputter on a shaky exhale when he unexpectedly parts them and sucks the digit into his mouth.

“Mhm,” he hums around you, takes your free hand in his and guides it down his body, across the expanse of his torso, the plush of his belly, pausing when you reach his crotch. 

Your pulse quickens, then, a dull throb forming at the base of your neck. You extricate your finger from his mouth with a gentle pop.

“This too,” he whispers, canting his hips up toward the flat of your palm.

He’s half-hard, his clothed bulge pleading for attention. But he pulls your hand away quickly, not letting himself get carried away at the feeling of your fingers grazing him through denim. 

Instead, he re-situates it against his chest so that you can feel his heartbeat where it hammers under skin, against flesh and bone. “This is all yours too,” he says, voice so low it reverberates in your skull. 

“All of it — all of me. Don’t gotta worry your pretty little head with anythin’ anyone else has to say about the matter. Got it?”

His words are spoken with so much conviction that you have no choice but to believe them, to let them stick in your brain like anchors in sand: deep and immovable.

Yours, yours, yours. 

And nobody else’s.

“Yeah,” you smile into the column of his neck, inhaling his scent: mostly him, but with notes of you. 

“Got it.”

It’s two weeks later when she makes a move on him: the woman with the perm. Joel is taken aback by her boldness, with you just a few feet away, digging your key into the lock of your mailbox. 

“You must work with your hands,” she purrs, grabbing one of his wrists and examining his calloused fingers with such little integrity, his mouth actually slips open at the unabashedness of it all. 

“Uh-”

“I’m Sheila,” she hums, raking her fingers through tight, blonde curls. “And you are?”

“Joel,” he grunts noncommittally. Wrenches his arm back. He doesn’t miss the way her eyebrows twitch in offense. 

But she’s insatiable, this woman. She bounces back like a rubber band, not-so-subtly pushing her breasts together, the zip of her sweatshirt slipping down an inch and her mouth curving into a salacious grin.

You just about stop dead in your tracks when you round the corner to the lobby, junk mail in hand, and see her, her body turned towards Joel’s, chest pushed out and hip popped. She has a bedazzled tote bag full of groceries slung over her shoulder, a head of leafy greens poking out the top.

“Hi neighbor!” she smiles mockingly at you, all lipstick-stained teeth, when you sidle up to Joel. “I was just telling your friend here what nice, strong arms he has.” She’s not looking at you, eyes locked firmly on Joel’s biceps, nearly drooling at the sight of him. 

Heat spools behind your ears, red-hot.

“Not her friend,” Joel corrects before you can. “‘M her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” she says. “Boyfriend.” Her lips wrap loosely around the word, like it’s some fanciful thing. “You’re too old to be someone’s boyfriend.” 

Joel takes a step away from her, closer to you, and splays a steadying hand across your back. “Man-friend, then.” 

You laugh, not because it’s funny, but because this entire conversation is fucking awkward. 

Sheila pays you no attention.

“Well,” she sighs, overtly staring at the exposed skin of Joel’s chest, where the top two buttons of his flannel are undone, “Joel, if you’re ever lookin’ for a good meal, I’m just next door.” She flits her eyes up to his and smirks. “Know a big man like you has gotta eat.”

Your vision blurs scarlet. 

Joel is equally as infuriated. The disrespect of this woman, to so openly flirt with him in front of you. His fists ball tightly at his sides. 

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he gruffs. “Anyway, nice to meet ya ma’am-“

“Sheila,” she reminds him. 

“Sheila,” he repeats, only to appease her. He turns to you, squeezing your waist affectionately. “We should probably get goin’, right sweetheart?”

You’re still fuming, barely able to register Joel’s voice next to you through the thick haze of pure fury clouding your mind, but you manage to nod, spit out a hurried yeah.

And with that, Joel is turning on his heels, pulling you with him toward the elevators. You don’t dare look back at her, but you can feel her eyes boring a hole in the back of your head. 

Her footfall fades into the mailroom and you breathe a minuscule sigh of relief. At least she’s out of your sight.

“Please just move in with me,” Joel begs when you’re finally behind closed metal doors, the inspection plaque situated above the buttons suddenly extremely interesting as you try to focus on not thinking about setting this woman’s apartment on fire.

You’ve talked about living together a few times. It’s just — you’ve never considered it so seriously until right now. 

“I can’t let them win,” you mutter, agitated. 

You hate how they’ve made you feel, like you’re some helpless animal tucked in the corner, hiding from them. Just waiting for the next ambush. 

With the passing of each floor, your anger simmers, bubbles into a silent rage in your stomach, one which threatens to boil over at the next underestimation of Joel’s devotion to you. You need to make it known, once and for all, that he’s yours. 

Words from your grandmother play on a loop in your head, ones she repeated to you often when you were a child: if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. 

And then you have a thought — a devious thought — maybe you don’t have to say anything to get your point across. Not to them, anyway.

Your mouth is on Joel the second you’re back inside the four walls of your own apartment, slotting against his pulse point and sucking a desperate bruise there.

He’s not expecting it — why would he be? You’ve just been seething the entire elevator ride up to your floor, the entire walk down the long, winding hallway to your unit. He’d practically been able to see the steam billowing from your ears. 

So the switch-up is more than a bit dizzying, to say the least.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he pants, his large hands draping over your shoulders. “What are you-”

“Joel.” Your voice is stern; it demands his attention. “Do you trust me?” 

Your hand trails down his body languidly, in a straight line to the waistband of his jeans. And fuck, of course he trusts you — more than anyone. But this is wrong, fucked up, for you to make him feel good when you’ve been made to feel so small these past few minutes. 

Still, his cock doesn’t get the memo, twitching in his jeans as you place another open-mouthed kiss on the underside of his jaw, your fingers beginning to fiddle with his belt buckle. 

You give him no choice with the way you’re touching him, the way you’re looking at him when you pull back, all pleading eyes and parted mouth, but to resign all protest. He’ll give you the world, and if right now you want to use his body to blow off some steam, who is he to complain about it?

“Yeah baby, of course,” he breathes. “What do you need?”

You smirk at him audaciously, tongue smoothing over your teeth. “Need you to be loud,” you purr. Your voice is so innocent in juxtaposition to the words you spew. It sends a chill down the column of his spine. “Let them know who makes you feel good.” 

He nearly cums in his pants untouched, grasps at the fabric of your shirt with clumsy hands and nods. “Fuck, okay.”

His belt falls to the floor with a clang.

He lets you take control, then. Lets you mark him with your tongue and your teeth, lets you back him to the door with deft fingers working his shirt buttons open before sinking to your knees in front of him, freeing his hardening cock from the confines of his jeans and boxers.

It’s already weeping for you when you pull it out, precum beading at the tip. He’s so big, growing heavier in your hand with each passing second, and you lose yourself for a moment, hypnotized by him.

“Always so eager to please me, aren’t you, pretty girl?” Joel’s voice pulls you back to earth, soft and adoring.

“Louder,” you remind him. Plant a kiss right over top of his leaking slit.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth. One of his hands flies to the crown of your head, anchoring himself with fingers in your hair. “Dirty fucking girl.” 

His voice fills the entranceway, confident and filthy. 

“Mmm,” you hum approvingly.

“Yeah? You want me to tell ‘em? Tell ‘em you’re making my cock drool for you? That nobody — shit-” You enclose your lips around his tip, suckling on it as your fingers wrap around the base of his length and you begin to stroke him lazily. “-that nobody has ever made me feel this good?” 

Footsteps echo down the hallway and the sound makes you reflexively pause, your hand stiling on Joel’s cock. It’s followed by the jingling of metal, the click of a key in a lock, the opening and closing of a door — all close enough that you can pinpoint the source, can tell where exactly it’s coming from. 

Sheila is home. 

Perfect.

It’s probably worrying how excited it makes you, the prospect of her hearing, of her sitting alone in her apartment, at her empty dining table, and listening to Joel fall apart at your hands. Maybe they’ve driven you to and over the edge of sanity with their words, her most of all. Regardless, you can’t help the way it makes your cunt flutter around nothing. 

You lick a slow stripe up the underside of Joel’s cock, starting just above his balls and dragging the flat of your tongue up, up, up to his tip. His breath shudders, his grip on your hair tightening, and the subtle sting at the center of your scalp gives you another idea. 

“Do you wanna fuck my face, Joel?” 

“Do I wanna — fuck — you’re gonna kill me, angel.” 

“Go ahead,” you encourage, unhinging your jaw as wide as it can go, letting your tongue droop over your bottom lip. 

Saliva pools in your waiting mouth and Joel groans at the sight of you, so malleable for him, begging to be used. 

“You sure?” 

It’s not that he doesn’t think you can handle it. He knows you can. You’ve taken him down your throat more times than he can count. Always so fucking eager to please him, you are — just one of the many reasons he feels so goddamn lucky, so infuriated that anyone would think otherwise. 

But still, he can’t help but worry that he’ll hurt you. 

You nod, eyes locked on him, confirming beyond a shadow of a doubt that you want this. He nods back, beginning to feed his cock into your mouth, easing it in slowly and halting when his head hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag.

You don’t pull away, don’t show any indication of displeasure. In fact, you dig your fingers into the meat of his thighs, bearing down on him as you push forward. Mascara tears stain your cheeks as you choke on him, laser-focused on relaxing your throat so that you can accommodate more of his length. 

Joel pulls back, retreating entirely before pushing in again. He slowly increases his pace, your eyes hooded, so doelike and innocent, as his cockhead bruises your larynx. 

The sounds he’s pulling from your mouth are absurdly lewd: muffled gags and frantic inhales of breath. And then there’s him, moaning wildly, not sure if he’d be able to shut up even if he needed to be quiet. Your mouth is good, too fucking good and he’s going to — fuck, he’s going to cum if you don’t stop. 

He pulls out abruptly, a string of drool and precum tethering the tip of his cock to your swollen bottom lip. You’re panting, coughing, still bracing yourself against his legs when you fucking smile up at him. 

“Christ,” he says. “Fuckin’ angel, you are. Mouth feels like goddamn heaven.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But I need to cum in that perfect little cunt,” he breathes, pulling a strangled moan from the back of your rawed throat. 

He helps you up, spins you around to face the door. You brace both hands on the wood, humming as he pulls your pants down to your knees. His breath is on the back of your neck, trailing up to the shell of your ear with one whisper just for you, because he can’t help it. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” 

You shiver, responding with a tilt of your head, inviting him in with a needy little mewl. He cradles your face in one of his large hands, the other rubbing over the curve of your ass as he kisses you passionately, tasting himself on your tongue.

The hand on your ass trails lower as he deepens the kiss, two fingers pressing against your clothed seam. You’ve all but soaked through the fabric, wet cotton molding to his knuckles as he caresses them along your pussy before pulling your panties down in one swift motion.

You whine into the kiss, desperate and dripping for him. “Please,” you breathe against his lips. “I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

“Know you will,” he coos, mouth parting from yours as he straightens out and lines himself up with your entrance. You arch your back, rocking onto the balls of your feet as he teases you with the tip.

His cock is so thick when it finally notches into you. It’s always so devastatingly thick, no matter how wet you are for him. The stretch stings, a jolt of warm pain coursing through your walls as he stills halfway in. 

“You okay?” he asks, one hand resting at the small of your back, the other on your hip, fingers gripping to you only tight enough to hold you in place.

“Yes, fuck — yes,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me, Joel.”

“I’m goin’ to baby, don’t worry,” 'he promises, pushing in another splitting inch. “Pussy’s so goddamn tight, ‘ts suckin’ me right in.”

It feels like hours pass with Joel’s cock motionless inside your aching cunt, his warm breath fanning across your back as he focuses on not cumming. You’re whimpering, begging under the weight of his body, to please just fucking move.

When he finally obliges you, pulling all the way out and then bottoming out in one deep thrust, it nearly punches the air out of your chest. You scrabble for purchase on the door, fingernails scraping against chipped paint. “F-uucckk,” you moan, eyes rolling back in your head as he sets a dizzying pace.

The sound of his balls slapping against the back of your thighs is enough to attract attention on its own, the loud smacksmacksmack going straight to your cunt. Joel growls behind you, driving into you even harder, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot. 

“Oh, shit,” you cry. Your pussy inadvertently squeezes him and he curses at your back, low and deep. 

“Not going to last if you keep doin’ that,” he warns. “Cunt is too fuckin’ good. Best I’ve ever — uuuhh — had.”

He’s not just saying it for show. It’s true. You know it is, too. He’s told you before, both under the influence of your pussy and not. Waited too many goddamn years to feel like this, he’d said once.

“It’s — fuck, it’s fine Joel,” you mutter. “I’m close too, just keep going, right there.”

A door across the hall creaks open. A pair of footsteps patter across tile. 

Do you hear that?  Yeah; what is that noise?

Joel laughs darkly behind you, snaps his hips up, forcing a guttural moan out of you. 

“Think they caught us, darlin’,” he says. “Caught you takin’ my cock like you’re fuckin’ made to.”

Oh my word!

Joel is unrelenting, pounding into you despite the voices right outside your apartment, and you fear for a moment that you’ve created a monster. One of his hands leaves its place on your waist, cracks down on the center of your asscheek with a slap, the flesh recoiling under his palm and you gasp. 

The feeling travels between your legs, straight to your neglected clit. It pulsates under the hood with every pass of Joel’s cock over your g-spot, and you feel yourself hurtling toward the edge dangerously fast. 

If these people don’t leave, they’re going to hear you cum. Do you want them to hear you cum? Yeah, you think, clit jumping again at the thought, I think I fucking do.

“Joel, fuck-”

“You gonna cum?” he goads. “Yeah, can feel you squeezin’ me — you’re gonna cum, aren’t ya?”

This is vulgar!  We should file a noise complaint. C’mon.

His hand snakes around your front then, finds your throbbing bud, and with a few passes of his calloused fingertips, you’re gone, vision whiting out and all noise around you muted. 

Joel keeps you upright between him and the door, his grip on you tightening as your muscles slacken. He follows closely behind, cumming inside you with a carnal noise from the back of his throat, rope after rope of his spend filling your cunt. 

He pulls out with a grunt, immediately collapsing on the floor. Without his support, you topple over too, falling onto his lap with a satiated giggle. 

A banging comes from the other side of the wall then, shaking your kitchen cabinets a few feet away, the clanging of glassware jolting you.

Keep it down next time! I don’t need to hear that!

And then you’re laughing like teenagers, Joel pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, all tongues and teeth. 

“Think they’re really gonna make a noise complaint?” Joel asks when you finally come up for air. 

“I dunno,” you smile. “Does your offer still stand — for me to move in with you?” 

“Always,” he vows, forehead resting against yours.

end notes: ty for reading! pls consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed <3

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[rafesslxt]

🐰 secret bunny⎥rafe cameron

part 2 ⎥"bunny 🐰"

「 ✦ 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞.✦ 」

summary: A Costume Party? Rafe as Ghostface? Where can I sign? Both of them see each other for the first time again, which brings up some old memories.

word count : 3k

warning: sexual tension, language, ghostface!rafe, alcohol, best friends brother, making out, seven minutes in heaven - game, touching, English is not my first language

Scarlett's POV:

Full of anticipation, I walked through the city in hope of finding a good costume. After I woke up, Sarah called me and apologized for Topper's behavior where I told her that I was also a little bit ashamed of JJ's actions.

She asked me if I would like to come earlier and get ready together. Of course I agreed. She recommended a store in town where they sell costumes, which I was now standing in front of.

I went in and had a look around. I didn't want anything too flashy but still something that would be recognizable. I found myself standing in front of a bunny costume. It consisted of a headband with big fluffy ears, a furry nose and a flower for the bottom.

I paid for it and left the store. I quickly called a cab to take me to Sarah's.

When I arrived, I looked at the Cameron's estate. Now that I was older, I realized for the first time how huge Tanny Hill actually was. I walked slowly through the front garden, which was bigger than John B's entire home. Sometimes I wondered how fair this world really was. Why can Sarah and I live in big houses and John B and JJ live in small huts and have to fend for themselves?

I rang the doorbell and waited a moment before it opened and two arms wrapped around my waist. "Wheezie! How big you've gotten!" I looked down in amazement and looked at Sarah's little sister. "Sarah is upstairs in her room waiting for you. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me." "Thank you." I smiled at her before going upstairs to Sarah's room. Everything felt so familiar but so strange at the same time. As a child, I had never thought about what happens when I wasn't in outer banks.

But now, especially after last night, I wondered more and more what I had missed.

I opened the first door in the hallway. " Hey Sarah." I smiled at her as she came towards me. " Hey." She hugged me tightly and exhaled deeply. " Sorry again for the mess yesterday. This is not how I had imagined our reunion." " It's all right. As I said, JJ wasn't entirely innocent either." " How is John B? Is everything all right with him?" " Yes, a black eye and a few bruises. Nothing he can't get over." " Good good." She nodded. " So? Did you find a costume?"

I unpacked my things, including my costume, and showed her my options. " Hmm.. the pink satin dress would look super cute together with the bunny ears. "

"Yes, that was my favorite too. I think I'll leave out the nose though." We laughed and held them in front of each other's faces.

" Who is actually coming to the party?" " Pretty much everyone. I just hope everything stays a bit more peaceful today than yesterday. " She sighed and put on her costume. She had a headband with a halo on it and big white angel wings that she put on over a short white dress. We got ready for the party together, put on our make-up and styled our hair. I left mine down with my natural waves. 

I was putting on my lipstick when Sarah came into the room and spun around. "And? How do I look?" She looked really great. Almost like an real angel.

" Fantastic. If you weren't with Topper, I'd almost say you were taking someone home with you tonight. " Her cheeks flushed and she looked into the mirror. "You know that feeling when something just doesn't feel right? Like it shouldn't be."

I stood up slowly and stepped behind her. " Are you thinking about Topper?" I asked cautiously. " She shrugged her shoulders. " You know, I've only been in one relationship so far, but what I do know is that the right one never makes you doubt whether he's the right one or not.", I told her.

"He tries so hard, but I always have the feeling that it's more about appearances. The most important thing is that we look good together and show up everywhere together. I don't know if that's what love is supposed to feel like." Without wanting to tell her anything wrong, I hugged her from behind and rested my head on her shoulder. "I have a feeling you already know the answer to that."

2 hours later

The first guests arrived an hour ago and the house was getting fuller by the minute. After we'd finished, Sarah and I decorated the house and got everything ready. She took care of the snacks and I took care of the drinks. Sarah took Wheezie to a friend of her's.

Like us, most of the guests had masks on or were wearing light make-up.

The party went great. Sarah introduced me to a few of her friends and I caught up with some old faces. " Hey Scar I know you probably don't like Topper very much now, but he's just coming through the door." she whispered to me before he stood next to us with Kelce. He kissed her and pulled her close to him. He was wearing a black costume with some blood and 2 small horns on his head. Kelce next to him was dressed as a vampire. "Ah, good and evil I presume?" I pointed between Topper and Sarah, whereupon Sarah looked sheepishly at Topper. "Yes, we wanted to be recognizable as a couple," Topper said, hugging Sarah from the side. 

"The most important thing is that we look good together and show up everywhere together. I don't know if this is what love is supposed to feel like." Sarah's words replayed in my head.

"So, did you bring any of your friends with you?" Topper asked me, looking down at me cocky. " Why? Do you want to die again?" I knew I was going a bit too far, but if there was one thing I didn't like, it was arrogance. Whether it was wrong or right of JJ to hold a gun to Topper's head was one thing. But running your mouth the next day after almost wetting your pants is beyond crazy to me.

" Excuse me?!" He was visibly angry and took a step towards me, letting go of Sarah. " Topper..." Sarah intervened but I also took a step towards him. "No, that's okay Sarah. He's welcome to learn that even a girl can beat his ass up." I could see the red color rising in his face. " Oh yeah? How about we- " before he could continue, he was interrupted by a male voice.

" Hey hey hey, why don't we all calm down first?" Someone said with a foreign voice, dressed as ghostface. He was wearing black jeans, a black shirt and the mask. He put his hand on Topper's shoulder, where I immediately noticed the golden rings on his fingers. They looked familiar but I just couldn't think of who they belonged to.

"How about you two lovebirds and Kelce get out of here and I'll take care of our little bunny?" He let go of Topper and put an arm around my shoulders. " Ra-" " Like I said, I'll take care of it," he emphasized again.

They just nodded and disappeared. Sarah turned around and whispered "I'm sorry" to me. "So that's how you greet old friends in the Outer Banks, huh?" I turned my attention to Ghostface next to me. " Old friends? I don't know when I've ever been friends with Topper," I said, walking along with him. He walked me out of the house, into the garden, where only a few people were standing to smoke or talk.

We sat down on a bench with a table in front of it and a tarp over it. His arm was still around my shoulders, so he pulled me closer and whispered in my ear, "Maybe not with Topper, but I would have thought my greeting would be a little sweeter." His voice was deep and somewhat muffled by the mask. Nevertheless, goose bumps formed all over my body. "Why should I greet a stranger?" "Am I? Am I a stranger?" He confused me more and more. "Who the hell are you?" " Oh bunny, I didn't think you would forget your first kiss so quickly."

My first ki- "Rafe?!" I looked at him, startled, and pulled the mask off his face. " Did you miss me?" There was a big grin on his lips as he scanned my shoked face. "I almost didn't recognize you when you were standing next to my sister last night. " " You were there last night too?" " Yes, but not long enough to see the fight. "

I didn't know what to say. He was the first person in a long time to leave me speechless. I also had no idea what he wanted from me. " What do you want from me?" I asked straight out.

He pulled me closer again and looked down at me. His eyes were always to fall in love with. Wait. Pull yourself together Scar. It's still Rafe. I took a closer look at his face and quickly realized how grown up he had become. He was incredibly handsome and only now did I realize how good he smelled. I looked into my cup and thought about how much I had to drink.

"Why do I have to want something? Isn't it possible that I just want to chat with you and find out how you are?" I've always been good at reading people and I knew straight away that he was lying and wanted something. "I'm fine Rafey, how are you?" I started to grin because I knew how much he hated it when I used to call him like that. He rolled his eyes and straightened up a little. "Now that you're here, I couldn't be feeling better, bunny. And I see you're just as cheeky as you've been for the last few years."

"Hmm, I'm beginning to think you've missed me," I replied. He softly put his hand on my knee, brushed his fingers over my skin and looked me in the eyes. Why couldn't I move? Why did his gaze captivate me so much? He lowered his head to the level of mine until his lips were right next to my ear again. " Would that be so bad? The last time I saw you, you were 14 and you just got your first kiss from me. " I tried to look away as my cheeks got hot but he took my chin between his fingers and turned my head around. " How 'bout trying again? You can't imagine how much better I am now."

His hot breath bounced against my skin. I bit my lower lip and tried to breathe normal. "Why so shy now hm?" he whispered. "Or didn't you like our first kiss as much as I did?"

We all sat in a big circle and waited excited until Chalsey had finished with the notes. After what felt like an eternity, she came into the room and placed an empty bottle in the middle of our round. "The rules are simple. Everyone takes a piece of paper from the bowl and reads out loud what it says, then spins the bottle and has to do what it says with the person the bottle is pointing at."

I was 14 at the time, as were most of the others in the room. The oldest were 16.

Linda next to me pulled a piece of paper out of the bowl first. She unfolded it and read out loud "kiss". A chorus went around the room as everyone waited to see who the bottle would land on. She crumpled up the scrap of paper again and put it back before taking the bottle in her hand, spinning it vigorously and waiting tensely. The bottle slowed down and stopped at... Kelce. Everyone looked up at the two of them and cheered.

Linda stood up shy and walked over to Kelce, who was sitting nervous in an armchair. His boys pushed him towards Linda. He stood up and slowly approached her face. When their lips touched, everyone started cheering and whistling again. They both sat back in their seats and looked sheepishly at each other.

"Scar, it's your turn." Chalsey said, holding out the bowl of notes to me. Excitedly, I took one out and opened it carefully. There it was and I couldn't believe my eyes. "Tell us, what did you get?" Sarah, who was sitting opposite me, asked me excited. "7 minutes in heaven."

My heart was beating incredibly fast as I took the bottle and spun it. I hoped it wouldn't be someone I didn't like. The bottle slowed down and my heart beat faster by the second. It stopped and my gaze followed the direction it was pointing at. Now my heart dropped in my pants. "Uuuhhh" everyone started giggling and whispering. Rafe. The bottle stopped at Rafe.

"My brother? Ew!" Sarah looked at her brother in disgust and shook her head. " You can use the wardrobe at the end of the hall. There are usually only umbrellas in there. We both stood up and walked towards each other. Rafe took my hand and pulled me behind him to the closet. He opened the door and let me in first. It wasn't really big, so I was slightly pressed against Rafe's torso as he got into the closet and closed the door.

Some light fell in through the crack in the closet and I could see Rafe's face. "Hi." I said shy. "Hey." He smiled a little and carefully put both hands on my hips. " We don't have to do this if you-" " No no no- I mean- it's okay Rafe. I'm not a kid anymore." The truth was, I'd always had a little crush on Rafe. I knew he was Sarah's brother, but I couldn't help it. Besides, I was sure he saw me as nothing more than his little sister's girlfriend. And I was only a year younger than Rafe.

I didn't want him to think I was a little girl who was scared, so I placed my hands on his chest. I could feel his heart beating fast under my palms. Was he nervous? His face moved closer to mine until I could feel his breath against my lips. " Have you ever kissed anyone?" I shook my head. " No." A smile formed on his lips before he brushed them against mine.

My heart felt like I was about to have a heart attack. "You smell good." Rafe whispered and looked me straight in the eyes. I got goosebumps as his grip on my hips tightened. "You too."

His lips finally touched mine and he closed the distance between us. He placed a hand on my cheek and stroked it with his thumb. His lips were soft and he tasted of the popcorn we all ate earlier. His second hand slowly stroked my stomach, which was exposed by my crop top. It startled me briefly, causing my mouth to open slightly. Rafe took his chance and ran the tip of his tongue over my bottomlip and then into my mouth.

I didn't know what to do so I did the same as he did, whereupon his grip on my cheek tightened a little and he pressed his body against mine. He let go of my lips and breathed just as quickly as I did. "You're a really good kisser," he moaned.

Out of breath, I could hardly answer and just nodded shyly. "Hey! Seven minutes are up!" Chalsey's voice rang out from behind the wardrope. "Too bad you're going home tomorrow," Rafe whispered in my ear and kissed my cheek.

I snapped out of my thoughts when Rafe stroke my cheek. " I think you did." he smiled and looked at me. "My question is still open though, what do you really want from me?" His eyebrows furrowed and his expression became a little more irritated. "Bunny, I told you I don't want to -" "Hey! Get your slimy hands off her!" I jerked my head to the side. " JJ?" Now I was the one who was irritated. "What are you doing here?" " I wanted to talk to you, to find out how you're doing. We haven't spoken all day." Rafe stood up next to me and looked at JJ. "Are you surprised she doesn't want to talk to you after you put a gun to Topper's head yesterday?" "You stay out of this Rafe!"

I stood up and put a hand on Rafe's chest to hold him back. "Rafe, please go inside. I'll sort it out." " Are you sure?" I nodded and smiled at him briefly. " Okay, I'll be inside if you need me." " Thanks, Rafe." He went inside and left me and JJ alone.

"JJ...what were you thinking?" I sat back down on the bench. "I don't know. I just saw him almost drown John B and then, well... that was the first thing that came to my mind." "Why did you even have a fucking gun on you?" " It's a long story but John B and I found it a a few weeks ago." I shook my head and eyed him. I could tell he was really sorry, but that didn't really change anything for now.

" JJ, I'll be home tomorrow or tonight. I'll write to let you know. But please go now." He sighed but listened to me." Love you, Scar. See you later." "Love you too, JJ." I watched him leave the property and then went back inside myself.

" Scar! Is everything all right? I'm so sorry I left you alone with Rafe, it was so stupid of me." I smiled and looked at my hands. " It's all right. He wasn't that bad to be honest." " Wow. Are you sure we're talking about the same person?" " Uhm, Sarah.. can I sleep here tonight?" " Yes, of course. When the party's over, we'll make ourselves comfortable and it'll be just like old times." I could tell she was happy and I hoped she was right.

At least one thing was going to be like it used to be. _

thank you so much for reading, let me know If you want part 3

xoxo Sarah

Secret Bunny Masterlist

[diazsdimples]

Hi!!!! This is the equivalent of however many Grant-Nash Ranch sentences you can make, my love

Turns out that equated into 18 ranch sentences.

After Bobby got out of the hospital, they moved into a motel room. It wasn’t ideal, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it served as somewhere for them to sleep between Athena’s shifts and Bobby’s war-like campaign he launched against Vincent Gerrard. The apartment hunting had begun when Bobby had tried to squeeze a very angry group of firefighters into the motel room, which ended with Hen and Chimney trying to squeeze onto the double bed beside Bobby, Buck and Eddie sitting so close to one another on the singular armchair that they were practically in one another’s laps, and Ravi face down on the ground, apparently midst-existential crisis. Athena and Bobby had moved into their 2-bedroom apartment a week later. While he knew it was by no means a permanent state of affairs, Bobby hated that apartment. It was small and dingey and, worst of all, there was no backyard. Only a tiny balcony with a couple of dying plants, and perfectly situated to never get any sun, no matter the time of day. Considering he has nothing else to do with his days, besides help instigate a mutiny within the 118, Bobby began to religiously check real estate websites. He and Athena had spoken about what they might look for in a new home, and Bobby tried to keep all this in mind as he searched. He pulled up listing after listing, showing his wife with enthusiasm whenever there was a spare moment. He attended open homes, contacted realtors, even went as far as calling Michael for his opinion on possibly building their own place. But nothing felt right. They were all too close to their neighbours, or too modern, or only had a tiny patch of land for Bobby to garden in, and he just – well he itched for something more. Gradually, Bobby’s searches branched away from metropolitan Los Angeles, getting more and more into the outer suburbs until he’d well and truly worked his way into the rural real estate websites. It felt so much better, looking at old ranch-style homes with a few acres of land, perfect for Bobby to work on the garden he’s always wanted, enough space for Athena to get a couple of animals if she wanted, plus ample space to turn into entertainment areas for the inevitable 118 barbeques they would be hosting. He never mentioned the change in search area to Athena, still keeping an eye out for inner city properties just in case, but Bobby’s mind was made up. They were going to buy a ranch.

Tagging some friends who might be interested in a new wip lol

@theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @spotsandsocks @bidisasterevankinard

@watchyourbuck @actuallyitsellie @perfectlysunny02 @bidisasterevankinard @cal-daisies-and-briars

[dragoneyes618]

L.A.’s largest Jewish neighborhood was the site of an anti-Jewish riot on Sunday, as a pro-Hamas and Hezbollah mob attacked Jews and blocked access to a synagogue where an Israel real estate fair was taking place. At around 11 a.m., rioters gathered outside Adas Torah Synagogue in the Pico-Robertson area and came mask/kefiyyeh-to-face against Jews who had come to rally in support of Israel, responding to a call on social media to turn out after recent Israel real estate events in other cities, including Teaneck, NJ and Toronto, drew antisemitic hordes, and one in Brooklyn was preemptively canceled because police would not guarantee the safety of attendees.

LAPD riot police responded to the chaotic scene and eventually cleared the area in front of the synagogue. But what happened in between is drawing ire from Jewish community leaders.

Political consultant Noah Pollak posted on X that he was at the synagogue and that the LAPD “let the Hamas supporters take over the sidewalk in front of the shul and block its entrance. In fact, LAPD had formed a cordon around the front of the shul to keep Jews out and Hamas supporters in. I tried to enter with my kids through the front door and was turned away not by Hamas supporters but by the LAPD. Anyone who wanted to attend had to use a secret back entrance.”

Shouting now familiar slogans including “Long live the intifada!” and “There is only one solution, intifada revolution,” the crowd quickly grew violent, punching and shoving and weaponizing bottles, sticks, and even their sign handles to attack Jews. Bear spray was also used, including against journalist Cam Higby, who posted videos of the attack on social media.

Police made only a single arrest – for carrying a prohibited “spiked flag.” They are reportedly investigating two allegations of battery.

Echoing coverage of the Israel-Hamas war, many news outlets framed the incident as a spontaneous “brawl,” “outbreak of violence” and “violent clash” (CNN’s take was “Violent scuffles break out between pro-Palestinian demonstrators and counter protestors in Los Angeles”) – yet this was anything but a random, unforeseen occurrence. Community activist and former Los Angeles City Council candidate Sam Yebri posted on X that “these terrorists told us when and where they were coming. For a week, we pleaded with our elected leaders to speak up. Not one made a public statement condemning these extremists.” He said elected officials “told LAPD to stand down and not intervene… Fortunately, proud Jews and well-organized Jewish groups stepped up to prevent a mass casualty event and the total destruction of the Pico-Robertson.” The Palestinian Youth Movement LA and Code Pink LA were among those behind Sunday’s riot.

“It’s like the media [are] bending over backwards to be politically correct,” the founder of Americans Against Antisemitism, former New York State Assemblyman Dov Hikind, told The Jewish Press. “The people that appeared at the synagogue [in Los Angeles] were radical Palestinians, Arabs, others who were there to disrupt. There are no two sides to that story. There is only one side, there are the good guys, and the other, the evil guys.”

Yebri said what occurred in front of the synagogue is “a dark stain in the history of Los Angeles. Violent extremists who proudly praise Hamas and Hezbollah marched outside an Orthodox synagogue in America’s most heavily Jewish neighborhood outside of New York – where my kids go to school, where my family worships, where my family eat and shop – and brazenly terrorized Jewish Angelenos with impunity and without any consequence. These violent masked domestic terrorists bludgeoned Jews, vandalized synagogues, schools and stores, keyed cars, assaulted anyone who appeared Jewish blocked Jews from entering their synagogue, and chanted for the genocide of the Jewish people. These violent masked domestic terrorists are now dispersing into Jewish neighborhoods hunting Jews and causing more destruction and vandalism.”

Indeed, videos of so-called “Jew-hunting” on the on the streets of L.A. that same day have circulated on social media, one showing stick-wielding thugs exiting their car to attack Jews, and another showing a mass of screaming protestors, having moved on from outside the synagogue, making their way down the block of a Jewish neighborhood threatening residents.

“Pro-Hamas and Hezbollah extremists violently attacked American Jews in Los Angeles and the politicians ordered the police to do nothing to defend them,” wrote Mark Dubowitz, CEO of the Foundation for Defense of Democracies. “Radical leftists and Islamists are ruining our country.”

Late Sunday night, California Gov. Gavin Newsom and L.A. Mayor Karen Bass issued statements denouncing the morning’s violence, specifically condemning the targeting of a house of worship. President Biden also issued a statement of condemnation.

Meanwhile, on the East Coast, a Jewish woman and her husband were attacked and beaten at their children’s graduation at a Brooklyn elementary school last week. Members of an Arabic-speaking family at P.S. 682 in Gravesend threw the man to the ground, grabbed his legs, and kicked and punched him. To the tune of “Free Palestine!” “Gaza is Ours!” and “Death to Israel!” the man was put in a chokehold and assaulted with a sharp stiletto heel the couple alleged.

The Jewish mom and her husband, a Dominican who is Catholic, shared their story with the New York Post after police refused to classify the incident as a hate crime. The NYPD is now investigating the incident further. “They targeted my family because we are Jewish,” said the woman, whose 10-year-old twins witnessed the assault, and whose 16-year-old was punched in the face after trying to help his father. While trying to video the assault, the mother was also attacked, pulled by her hair from behind and knocked to the ground by a woman shouting, “I will kill you.”

“The other side is saying, ‘Oh, they started it,’” Hikind said. “We in the Jewish community should be very, very concerned about the future…I say that because unfortunately, there’s no leadership as far as I’m concerned. These incidents happen, there’s no plan, there’s no plan to deal with everything going on…There are so many situations that don’t even make the news, so things are even worse than what we think they are.”

In an incident which did make the news last week, a mob of teens attacked a 41-year-old hasidic man late one night in Williamsburg with traffic cones and bottles while shouting antisemitic slurs. The NYPD hate crimes task force is investigating.

As of May 21, antisemitic crimes were up 55% in New York City compared with the same time last year – amounting to 143 incidents, according to the NYPD. Nationally, the Anti-Defamation League reported a record high of 8,873 antisemitic incidents in 2023 – a 140% rise over 2022 – with 5,200 of those occurring after October 7. The period of October 7 through January 7 saw a 361% rise over the previous year. Figures for 2024 are not yet available.

“There are no consequences for antisemitism,” Hikind told The Jewish Press. The message violent demonstrators get, in his words: “You’re free. Go ahead and do it tomorrow again.”

[intersectionalpraxis]

"During a news conference outside Los Angeles City Hall on Tuesday, members of several organizations, including the Palestinian Youth Movement, the Party for Socialism and Liberation, and Southern California Students for Justice in Palestine, said unarmed individuals were “brutalized” by police officers and pro-Israel demonstrators during Sunday’s protest."

“The Zionist attackers followed us and doxxed us with the intent to cause physical harm, targeting those wearing hijabs, pulling them off and throwing eggs at our heads,” said a member of the Students for Justice in Palestine who declined to provide her name to The Times. She added that the counterprotesters threatened to use “law enforcement connections to find out our identities and our addresses.”

"A pro-Israel demonstrator who was carrying a sharp pole was arrested, and two incidents of battery were reported during the conflict. Two officers and others were affected by a chemical irritant that was used by a pro-Palestinian protester whom the department is seeking to identify as part of a criminal investigation, Choi said."

"An archive of the My Home In Israel real estate website showed home listings priced between $435,000 and $4.1 million in locations including Tel Aviv, Giv’ot Eden, Jerusalem and in the West Bank territories Efrat and Ariel. Much of the international community, including the U.S. and the United Nations, say that settlements in the West Bank are illegal under international law. Israel disputes this claim."

So apart from the fact covid is airborne (and that policies like this could easily trickle into mass mask banning, which is both asinine and dangerous) -the cops being more upset at people for protecting themselves in multiple ways -when people have a right to dissent their government in the first place is just absolutely vile (especially considering zionists have been bringing weapons, threatening to hurt and wishing harm and SA onto people supporting Palestinian liberation -but the cops still have done NOTHING to hold these violent genocidal apologists accountable is what speaks volumes here). This new potential legislation would only allow them to get even more aggressive and violent.

This is why we say state and police violence are interconnected -this is one of the continued ways they can intimidate, threaten, punish, and terrorize people who are trying to bring awareness and to stop the genocide of Palestinian people.

And truly, it's always baffling to me to see cops and politicians and commentators babble on about how people can protest but just 'peacefully,' while in the same sentence rip protesters masks off themselves, throw people violently to the ground, use tear gas, blunt objects like batons -and come up in full riot gear to face people LITERALLY WITH SIGNS SAYING FREE PALESTINE. Cops will always continue to brutalize and kill people who are a threat to US imperialism, regardless if the protests are classified as violent or non-violent. What they want is for the people to stop resisting, that's the core of this issue here.

Also, this dangerous conflation of mask wearers being potentially antisemitic is absolutely jarring of a concept. You have Proud Boy members and many white supremacists groups whose identities are massively safeguarded online and in real life because many of these white people are lawyers, doctors, pharmacists, dentists, members of the Church -your local convenience store owner and the moment anyone tries to doxx them suddenly it's again their privacy and human rights?

Fuck the police. Fuck carceral systems. Seeing this is behind infuriating. People out here trying to stop a genocide and continued IOF illegal selling and occupation of Palestinian land, and you have these sadists and baby murderers in the US government and police systems doing NOTHING to hold Israhell accountable and are instead backing and supporting war criminals.

[eretzyisrael]

by Noah Pollack

How hard would it have been on Sunday, given the quantity of police on hand, to move the Hamas group a safe distance away from the entrance to the synagogue and ensure freedom of entry and exit? And it’s not just that this was entirely possible—it’s that this would have been the right thing to do, consistent with basic American values. We don’t do heckler’s vetoes here, or mob rule, and we don’t let masked thugs push around good citizens in broad daylight. Or at least that’s what I thought.

It was only in talking to people on the outskirts of the protest that I learned that the event was still on—you just had to find the alleyway behind the synagogue and knock on the right door, and there’d be an armed security guard who would let you in. So we did end up attending—but through the back door. 

In the midst of all this, my wife arrived, and also first tried to go in the front door. She was also stopped by the police and told “You’re not going in and you have to leave this area.”

I guided her via text messages toward the alleyway entrance. It was only as we left the event that the street fighting really picked up in front of the synagogue and, later, in front of Jewish restaurants and establishments along Pico Boulevard. A friend of ours who owns a small kosher restaurant a block from Adas Torah texted us a picture that afternoon of her and her staff standing in front of their restaurant holding baseball bats and knives, ready to protect their business. I immediately thought of the rooftop Koreans during the L.A. riots. Why did it have to escalate like this? Because, as they have realized on elite college campuses and in blue cities across the country, anti-Israel activists understand that they enjoy something like immunity. They can’t murder or severely beat people, but pretty much all other criminality—vandalism, graffiti, trespassing, harassment—will go unpunished. It’s one thing to understand that from watching the news. It’s quite another to witness it—to have to rush your kids away from a synagogue because Hamas supporters are getting violent outside and the police are letting it happen.

The groups organizing and carrying out these regular campaigns of violence across the country are well known. They fundraise for and promote their criminal enterprise openly. They boast on social media about carrying out violence. Their assaults are documented on video from a dozen angles. They routinely break numerous state and federal civil rights and hate crime laws. They could be prosecuted under a half-dozen different statutes. But it never seems to happen. So it is very difficult to reach any other conclusion than this is all quite intentional.

If you think that’s unfair, just look at the statement released yesterday by Los Angeles mayor Karen Bass. She pledged to take three actions in response to the Pico pogrom: convene meetings, increase coordination between the LAPD and Jewish institutions, and ask for more state money for security. Notice anything missing? The mayor of Los Angeles isn’t even pretending that she will ask law enforcement to prosecute criminals who target Jews.

[realtyhubph-blog]

4 BR House Pool St Anthony

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[simmerandwrite]

Sink Into Me - 02 - mob!Steve Rogers x plus size! reader

Pairing: mob boss!Steve Rogers x plus size female reader

Summary: You were simply doing a good deed, pulling the handsome stranger out of the way when a car jumped the curb. Little did you know that the life you saved belonged to Steve Rogers, the Army veteran turned art dealer with connections to the Brooklyn crime syndicate.

Steve Rogers, who won’t stop calling you his guardian angel.

Steve Rogers, whose new goal in life just might be repaying his debt to you.

Steve Rogers, who isn’t shy until it comes to his feelings and will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Chapters: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08

Wordcount: 6k

Warnings: canon level violence (series), body image issues (series), very brief mentions of animal abuse

Notes: hello! meet your friends - Maria Hill, Claire Temple and Wanda Maximoff. thank you all for being here and reading!! I appreciate your enthusiasm soooo much. things are :) about to get :) complicated :) if you see me out in the wild, my main blog is @simmerandcry​

---

The skyline view from the floor to ceiling windows had been the real selling point to Steve taking the penthouse apartment at his latest investment property. Truthfully, he had been growing tired of the brick walls of his old place, despite their aesthetic charm. The new renters could live with that red dust now.

But the view into both Brooklyn and downtown towards Manhattan made him feel like he was exactly where he needed to be. Like he was on top of the world, his own little empire carved out in the heart of the borough. Most importantly, his apartment was his home. And that meant work didn’t come home with him, ever.

He drew that line very cleanly, even leaving the second bedroom fully intact as a guest room instead of converting to an office. Because this is where he needed to clear his head, to be Steve Rogers, the plain and simple Brooklyn born boy who loved his city.

Steve Rogers, the war veteran turned real estate mogul and art dealer, who sat at the top of what remained of an old Irish crime syndicate - that man worked on the streets, in the office, in his clubs and galleries and restaurants. That shit was not supposed to come home with him.

Though recently, it seemed to have started to bleed into what little time he spent at home. Mainly because of you and the whole incident outside the restaurant.

“Well, what’s the plan?”

“I already told you, Buck. I’m not retaliating.”

Bucky Barnes, Steve’s right hand man, his oldest friend and main confidant, the literal fist and brawn behind their organization, scoffed. “Someone sent an amateur barrelling into our territory to try and pin you between the hood of a car and your new restaurant - and you don’t want to retaliate? We coulda been weeping over your body right now, Steve.”

“I can recognize an act of aggression when I see it, I’m not an idiot.” Steve tipped his rocks glass against his lips once more, the scent of scotch lingering as he stood from the couch. “We don’t know if it was Rumlow or that new idiot creeping in from Staten Island.”

Steve rolled his eyes and cut off Bucky before he tried to add in his two cents again. “And if someone wanted to kill me, they wouldn’t hit me with a car. You know what. This was some stupid message that was poorly planned and equally poorly executed.”

Sam Wilson, who had been sipping his own concoction from the kitchen table, finally looked up from his phone and piped in. “I mean, I hate to admit it but Bucky is right. You would have been dead if it wasn’t for that beautiful woman saving your ass.”

“Sam.” Steve turned his head, eyes narrowed in a pointed glare. 

“What? I’m not blind. The hips on her were-”

Steve took another step towards his friend and trusted colleague, who had a particularly loud mouth and a flair for getting on Steve’s nerves, and held up a steady hand. “Stop.”

He wasn’t inclined to admit it, but the entire thing had been replaying in Steve’s minds for days now. Ever since you had saved him on that sidewalk, throwing yourself into a dangerous situation for him, a total stranger, something had changed. He was still living, breathing, surviving. And although he was dead set on figuring out just who was driving that vehicle and ensuring they paid for their actions, it was you he couldn’t stop thinking about.

You. Who had been in the right place at the right time, who had risked your own personal safety to make sure he didn’t get hit, who was insistent that it had been an act of good faith, a simple act of kindness. 

You, with the kind smile and generous curves. You, who swept off your actions as innocent and selfless, concerned more about the happiness of your dog than your own well being. You, who left Steve feeling curious and longing to get to know you, to make you smile, to hear you laugh.

God, what he wouldn’t give to have someone like you in his life. While he couldn’t stop thinking about the kind of person you were, he also had your face playing over and over again in his mind too. It didn’t help that his mom called him a few days ago, asking how you were doing and reiterating how much she enjoyed talking to you and…

“Still no news from Hammond?”

Steve knew Bucky couldn’t help but prodding, as if his fingers were itching to find a quick, efficient solution. 

“He said their tech department is behind. I’m inclined to believe him but my insisting this is a priority hasn’t been successful this time. I’m trying to play nice.” Steve gritted his teeth, finishing the last sip of his drink as he stood, tugging on the lapel of his suit. “So I asked Stark to help instead. We’re meeting him at the club.”

 ---

The only good thing about your dreadful basement apartment was the private patio space in the backyard. You had high hopes for it when you rented the garden level unit but once your lease had been signed, everything about the place seemed a lot less shiny. From the shared laundry with the loud, obnoxious upstairs apartment to the inconsistent water pressure and flickering lights, you were counting down the days until your lease was over.

But the backyard - you had done what you could to make it a safe oasis for you and Hercules, with a few pieces of thrifted outdoor furniture and string lights making it a bit more magical. It was a nice location when hosting your girlfriends, especially when such a thing happened so rarely now that your schedules seemed to conflict all the time.

You were so grateful to have your girls. Because at any moment, they all loved to share their opinions on the weird chaos that seemed to stir up in your life. While you had known Maria since college, you had collected Wanda and Claire into your life since starting your new job in the city. You had worked as a server at the same restaurant as Wanda a few summers ago and Claire, an ER nurse, had dropped into your life by chance one night when you were stood up on a date at a bar in Hell’s Kitchen. Your group had been solid since then - although girls nights were few and far between now, with jobs and the general grind of life making it hard to get together often.

“I’m not saying the man isn’t attractive. Because I have eyes,” Maria was on her third glass of sangria, legs extended out on the brick patio outside. “I just have no reason to trust him.” She squinted down at her phone screen. “What did he say he did for work again?”

You sighed. Perhaps it was a mistake to share Steve’s name and photo - that you found after an extensive internet search - with your friends, but you valued their perspectives. It’s not like anything had happened with the guy. You hadn’t seen him since that day you saved his life and hadn’t communicated either, outside of you emailing him the stupid photo you took.

You had added his number to your phone, though. Just in case. Just in case what? You had no clue. But he had written it down for you and all.

And he said he owed you a thousand favours…

Officer Hammond, though, had reached out to you a few days after the event - asking you to come in and try and ID the driver in a police lineup. It made you feel a bit uncomfortable but you supposed it was your civic duty to do it, if it could help stop this from happening again or to help in delivering justice for wrongdoing. You pointed out the person you best recognized from your blurry memory and moved on, trying not to think any further about the situation.

Although a few strange things seemed to happen since then, if you just used your head it could all be justified. Like seeing the same black, unfamiliar SUV on your street multiple times this week. That was probably just a new vehicle belonging to one of your neighbours.

And that one time you were walking Hercules and a stranger who seemed to be lingering outside your apartment asked to borrow your phone.

Which you promptly said no to, because you aren’t dumb enough to let someone run off with your phone. But instead of going inside with Herc, you continued to circle the block until the blond stranger disappeared. You wouldn’t consider your neighbourhood the safest place after dark, but in the daytime you never felt concerned. 

It was all just sort of weird. 

But completely unrelated to anything else, you were sure. 

That was all behind you now anyway, a strange footnote in the chapter of your life that was playing out. You’d probably never have to see Steve again, though he had crossed your mind a few times…

Okay, you had been thinking about him a lot. Which is why you had told your three closest friends about everything that had occurred.

You replied to Maria, who was nudging you with her elbow. “Oh. Uhm, he works in real estate, I think. He owns an art gallery and some apartments. Oh, and that club on Morgan Ave - Shield .”

“Sounds like a professional landlord. Thumbs down.” Claire chimed in from her chair too, shaking her head and dismissing the entire concept of Steve with a wave of her hand. “Rich at best, financially questionable at worst.”

“And he owns that restaurant the car smashed into?” Maria reached for her own phone. “The one owned by the mob. Okay, that settles it - he’s in the mob then.”

You laughed and shook your head. “The mob isn’t a thing, Hill. What’s your source on that again?” 

Wanda shrugged and finally chimed in, fingers tapping idly against her wine glass as she turned towards you. “Describe his aura to me.”

You groaned, smirking as Claire rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh. “His aura?”

“You know, what kind of energy did he have?”

“Is that your way of determining the kind of person he is?” Maria got up from her chair to toss a small toy for Hercules to chase after. “I’d love to know the science between your aura theories, Wan.”

You delayed answering by grabbing the nearby bowl of popcorn and cradling it in your lap, leaving your phone and the thought of Steve on the small crate that sat between you and your friends. “He was very confident.” How could you do any justice to Steve’s intimidating Big Dick Energy without admitting your attraction to him? That last thing you wanted to do was bait your friends with any material to tease you with. Plus, really, it didn’t matter. You had no plans to ever see Steve again. And AND and, even if you did, what made you think it would be romantic in any way? 

Steve was beyond hot - from the trimmed beard and deep blue eyes, to his easy charm and well dressed body. You had no doubt in your mind that the man probably had some equally hot partner. If not, he could have his pick of the entire city. There was no way you would be on his radar.

“I don’t know,” Maria chimed in once more, clapping her hands quickly. “This is the wildest meet cute story I’ve ever heard. If the man is so willing to do you some favours, maybe you should cash in on it, mob be damned. You know what they say about tall guys..”

“You just said you don’t trust him!” You laughed, tossing a piece of popcorn at her.

Maria just scooped it up and popped it into her mouth with a shrug. “I don’t trust any man. I trust you and your judge of character, though. Plus, you haven’t been on a date in forever so maybe this was some sort of fate driven happenstance.”

“The universe does work in weird ways,” Wanda agreed. “And you said he really filled out that suit so…”

“You should text him!” Claire sat up tall and straight, pushing her hair over one shoulder as an idea formulated in her brain. You were nervous. “I think how he reacts to a sudden text will be a perfect test.”

“It’s a Saturday night, I can’t text him! And a test of what? All I did was save the man’s life, there is nothing else to..” This was not how you wanted this to go. The last logical thing you could think of doing right now was messaging Steve Rogers anything. What would he think if you texted him out of nowhere on a Saturday night? “What would I even say?”

“Here, allow me.” Maria plucked your phone off the table and damnit, why did you ever tell her your passcode? 

“Maria-”

“It’ll be harmless, I promise!” She glanced up from your phone and opened her eyes wide. “You need to stop playing safe. What’s the worst that could happen? He doesn’t reply?”

You sighed. YES. The fear of rejection crept up like a weird pain in your chest. “Yeah, I guess. He might think it’s a wrong number or some sort of spam message...”

“Then no harm, no foul.” Her grin grew even wider as she typed something out on the screen. She took a deep breath. You leaned over to see what she had crafted together and sighed. “It’s just a simple little push..”

 ---

Normally Steve would ignore then block an unfamiliar phone number, but this had been intriguing. Given that you hadn’t reached out to him at all, he had tried not to give much of his time to thinking about you. But when the text came in, without a lot of context or forewarning, he figured it was a small gamble to see how it could play out.

Unknown number [10:47PM]: hey, I need to cash in a favour S Rogers [10:49PM]: who is this? Unknown number [10:51PM]: 👀 🍑 🎁 🔄 🥞 S Rogers [10:55PM]: am I supposed to just guess what this means? Unknown number [10:59PM]: yes ;) S Rogers [11:02P:M]: it’ll be easier if you just tell me what you want, angel ;)

You hadn’t struck Steve as the type to flirt like this. If it was you, of course. He could really only safely assume, considering only a certain number of people had his phone number. And now, he finally had yours.

Tony had consolidated all the info he could find about you earlier that week. Steve didn’t feel great about asking Tony to dig into you, but since he had sent your picture for analysis after the delay at the police station, it sort of just happened. Frankly, Tony said your online presence was minimal. You were smart about keeping your social media secure and had a very thorough CV on LinkedIn. Otherwise, he didn’t have much information that you hadn’t already shared. And Steve had no intentions of doing anything suspicious with any of it, it just helped him understand who he had invited into a small corner of his life.

If that’s what he could call it. But you had crossed his mind over and over, and it didn’t help that Bucky kept bringing you up. Especially the part about Steve taking you to the clinic for help from Sarah. That resource was a well kept secret in their family and the fact that Steve took you there had been a big risk.

Beyond Steve’s unavoidable racing thoughts about you, he had been deep into a plan to deal with the actual problem - the group of idiots spilling into his Brooklyn territory. Tony had helped him with that too, finding names and dossiers on everyone who belonged to Rumlow’s extended Stryke gang causing a mess in the boroughs between Queens and Brooklyn. 

For years, Steve had worked hard to make a respectable reputation for himself and now things were getting shaky. And it annoyed the shit out of him, especially when a few of the names Tony pulled were on the NYPD payroll.

“It’s messy,” Tony had said with a shrug, leaning back into the leather seat from their place at the top of the club. 

Another property on Steve’s growing list - Shield was a popular nightclub in Brooklyn, which served as a perfect location for arms deals and financial transactions to float. For Steve and his old friend, tech mogul Tony Stark, it was a safe place to share theories and secrets. The upper level served as a secure hideout from the general population while the downstairs dance floor catered to obnoxious crowds looking for a drink or something else to roll on. 

It was lucrative for Steve, to say the least. 

“Let me know if you want me to get Rhodes involved.”

Steve shook his head. “He’s got enough on his plate. Is he ready for the campaign announcement?” Steve had a serious interest in the upcoming Mayoral election, especially if James Rhodes, former DA, planned on running. And with Tony bankrolling the campaign and some additional under the table support from Steve, it was going to be a shoe in.

“Oh, we’re just getting started, big guy,” Tony stood up and patted Steve on the shoulder as he left the corner area, flitting off in search of whoever might be going home with him soon enough. 

Usually that would be Steve’s next step too, but damnit, if he couldn’t stop glancing at his phone for a response from you. Maybe calling you ‘angel’ again had been out of line. He contemplated sending another message, but no, he had to wait. He knew how to play this game.

The rest of the night carried on, with certain reports popping in with updates for Steve on what was happening out on the streets. Things like confirmed shipments at the dock and successful cash pickups. He had eyes across the whole of Brooklyn, with his growing syndicate working beneath him. Things mostly operated smoothly and this night was carrying on as normal.

Bucky showed up eventually, grumbling about getting turned down by some smart mouthed girl outside the club. Sam corroborated the story, lauding the woman and her tone. 

Steve checked his phone, again. 

“I saw Sharon downstairs,” Sam nudged Steve, eyebrows raised curiously. “Unless you’re off again-”

“We’re permanently off-again,” Steve rolled his eyes. “You have my blessing if you want to pursue, Sam. But good luck, don’t say I didn’t warn you..” That was all Sam needed apparently, finishing off his glass and heading back down to the dance floor below. Steve didn’t miss his cheeky grin.

“You’re thinking about that girl again, huh?” Bucky nodded and tried to hide his mischievous smirk as he scanned Steve’s face.

Steve scoffed. “No, no. I’m not..” 

Bucky laughed, hard and incredulous. “I haven’t seen your head in the clouds like this in ages. Since whatsername in high school, maybe. What was her name?”

Then as if by some weird shift in the universe, Steve’s phone started to buzz. He left Bucky’s commentary lingering as he looked at the screen. You. 

Ah, no text reply but a phone call? Okay, he could get on board. Standing, he headed a few steps from the lounge and brought his phone up to his ear, with a small smile. “Rogers.”

The first thing he heard was your frightened yelling. “Leave me alone! Jesus - oh my god, Steve? Is this Steve?”

He said your name quickly to confirm who he was speaking too but raised his eyebrows in concern. “What’s going on?”

“Someone is trying to - HEY! Stop -” Steve could hear banging in the background. “--trying to break into my fuckin - I’m going to CALL THE COPS! Leave me alone! Please, just..” 

Steve closed his eyes, doing his best to focus on the background noise. Behind your defensive yelling and the attentive reactions of your dog, there was a mixture of other voices. Something about the voices felt familiar. 

“We just want to talk.. Did someone offer you something for that statement? Was it Rogers?”

“If you tell Hammond you got the wrong guy, this will all be over very quickly, honey.”

“Walker, move, let me – Open the door, or we’ll open it for you. Let’s talk..”

“He didn’t offer me - Stop, please! I swear I -”

Steve nearly crushed his phone when the call dropped. He was off like a bullet train, shouting for Bucky to follow him as he pushed past his security guards on the stairs and rushed down towards the back exit of the club. He tried to call you back as he sped through traffic, blatantly bypassing stop signs and treating red lights like suggestions. 

A heavy twisting feeling in Steve’s gut had told him that the aftermath of this entire situation wasn’t going to go smoothly. Especially with dumbass dirty cops on the inside who could share information to the highest bidder.

Steve felt a new responsibility to keep you safe, until this whole mess had been taken care of. He had plans to deal with it all on his own but now, if he hadn’t acted quickly enough and something had happened to you.. God, he couldn’t live with himself. How could he explain that to his mother?

He got to your apartment first, hoping Bucky was close behind. Steve didn’t know what he might be walking into but having backup was never a bad idea.

Steve had not only visited but had also lived in a lot of seedy neighbourhoods over the years. The street you lived on didn’t strike him as anything especially dangerous, but that thought enough couldn’t squash the unsettled feeling in his stomach as he approached. He pushed his way through the small metal gate beside the front stairs, towards the door to your garden level apartment.

His jaw clenched when he saw the damage to your door, clearly kicked in with plenty of force before being shoved closed. He glanced to the front window, nearby - that had been smashed, too. He tried to contain the growing fury and pressed on the door, calling out your name as he made his way inside.

As someone more than familiar with the real estate market, Steve could tell the bones of your apartment weren’t in the best shape. The entire townhouse was in desperate need of updating. But what concerned him more, outside of the low ceiling and old light fixtures, was what he could only assume was a new mess. Your coffee table had been smashed, creating a pile of kindling in your tiny living room. Papers were thrown about, a coffee cup sat shattered on the floor. 

He called your name again as he went in, reaching inside his jacket to pull out his concealed handgun as he listened carefully. Once he stepped into the hallway leading to your tiny kitchen, he took a step back at the sudden lurch of your dog heading in his direction.

Then Steve heard your quiet voice. The dog retreated into the kitchen, planting himself in front of you as Steve turned to look in. His heart sank.

You were seated on the floor, back pressed against the wall. It was clear you were trying to hide, make yourself small. And was that… some sort of steak knife in your hand? When you finally looked up at him, your eyes were wide.

When you tried to press yourself even further back, eyeing down the gun in Steve’s hand, he slowly put it down on the counter and said your name. “Hey, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was just a precaution.” Shit. The way you reacted to the gun wasn’t a surprise but it made Steve even angrier. Whoever had been here, whoever had done this, well, they probably had guns too. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” Steve crouched down, keeping his distance while Hercules acted as your bodyguard. He was trying everything in his power to maintain his composure but god fucking damnit, Steve needed to know who did this and he needed to deal with it. “Are you hurt?”

You took in a deep breath then just shrugged, relaxing just a fraction when Hercules circled around and flopped down to rest his head on your knee. “There were two guys, they had.. They had guns with them. They said they just wanted to talk to me, to … they kept talking about whoever the guy was who drove that SUV.” Your breath picked up as you recounted what had happened. “They..they smashed my phone and..” Slowly, you moved your hand up towards your neck, gently dragging your fingers against the tender skin on your collarbone. “..One guy he..” You winced at the memory.

The heat grew more and more in his stomach as he saw you shaking with fear, recounting whatever the fuck had just happened. How dare any of those fucking imbeciles lay their hand on you? And because of him? If he wasn’t sure of his next steps before, he was going to figure them out now. Because someone needed to pay for this.

His phone buzzed. He stood up and saw a message from Bucky, wondering if Steve needed his help inside. Steve took a step back, turning towards the front door.

“Don’t go,” you pleaded quietly, letting your hand linger in the air as you reached for him. “Steve, please..”

Steve stopped and turned back to you, giving his head a firm shake. “Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.” 

---

A few hours ago you were saying goodbye to your friends as your sangria pitcher finally ran dry. And now? You and Hercules were in an elevator with Steve and his friend Bucky, heading to Steve’s apartment.

Everything that had just happened felt like a bit of a dream - a bad dream. A break in at your own apartment, being intimidated, harassed and assaulted by men with guns, zipping through Brooklyn with Steve as he promised you a safe space to stay for the night.

You didn’t say much to each other once you had left, but you could see the twist of concern and small decisions Steve started to make to ensure you felt secure. A hand at your back, a soft smile, extra attention being given to Hercules to make sure he was okay, too.

You hadn’t gotten into much detail yet but you knew Steve wanted to figure out who the men were who had done this. You were already dreading talking about it again. And god, you likely had another police experience coming your way. What was happening in your life and how could it go back to normal again?

“Hey,” Steve tipped his head towards the door as the elevator opened. You took the lead as you stepped out into the hallway, where just a small handful of apartment doors were spread out. 

Steve’s building was a place you could only daydream about living in. You followed him through the door to his apartment, checking over your shoulder to see Bucky guiding Hercules behind you. 

Bucky was incredibly kind to you throughout this whole thing, especially back at your apartment. He had patiently directed you as Steve made some phone calls, carefully standing outside your room as you packed a quick overnight bag. And he was very taken to Hercules, which you really appreciated. 

Once inside Steve’s place, you made your way into the living room just past the foyer. Steve and Bucky moved into the kitchen briefly, exchanging a few hushed sentences out of your earshot. 

When they joined you in the living room, they found you crouched down on the floor with Hercules. You tipped your head up to look at them. Bucky’s gaze was on his phone but Steve was watching you with a soft smile. 

“Do you think he’ll be okay here tonight?” Steve took a knee on the other side of Hercules, slowly reaching his hand out to scratch behind his ear. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, just a bit, as you nodded. “Yeah, he’s pretty easy going usually.” As if on cue, your dog nudged his head against Steve’s hand for one more quick pet then trotted further into the living room, flopping down on the rug between the couch and windows. “All his adrenaline seems to have worn off.”

And so it seemed had yours.

A few minutes later you were sitting on the couch, with Steve planted in the chair across from you and Bucky standing over his shoulder, arms crossed. Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he took you in. 

God, even in the low light of his living room, the man was handsome. Wearing just a navy blazer and matching dress pants, over a black button up with no tie, he managed to look effortlessly intimidating and strangely welcoming. Like you had no reason not to trust him, as if the dark shadows behind his eyes were a sign of protection instead of a signal of something to be feared.

You took in a long breath and leaned back into the couch.

Steve dragged his tongue over his lips then let out a sharp breath. “Okay, so I need you to walk me through exactly what happened.”

You knew this was coming. The moment Steve insisted on not calling the cops, something shifted for you. This whole situation had escalated beyond what you were used to, that whomever these men were to Steve - it probably wasn’t good. 

But when you looked over at Steve, as much as you wanted to shake with worry about what might happen next, you couldn’t. Despite being way out of your comfort zone, scared out of your mind, coming down from your own rush of adrenaline, you weren’t scared. Not anymore, not in his presence and under the additional watchful eye of his right hand man.

And so you told him and Bucky exactly what had happened. How your girlfriends had left, how you were finding the next episode of your favourite show to watch, how you had some writing to catch up on and planned on staying up late. Then you heard a noise outside, then a knock at your door.

Then… well, then you had called Steve when everything started unfolding.

And after the men managed to get beyond the door and push their way through to you, you had nowhere to hide. Once they smashed your phone, you were going to comply and do whatever they needed to, to get them out of your home but then one of them threatened Hercules, and even kicked him-

“Jesus,” Bucky muttered, teeth clenched. Before he could get his true feelings out, Steve held up his hand and had you continue.

“I shoved the guy who was closest to me, trying to go for the other idiot before he hurt Herc and then..” You closed your eyes, going into vague details about how the man pushed you back, how he shoved you into the wall, the kitchen counter. How he pulled out his gun and put his hand around your throat and..

When you opened your eyes again, taking in the silence of the room as you trailed off, Steve was watching you carefully. Though you safely assumed he was an expert at hiding his emotions, you could see a twitch in his jaw. His fists rested on his knees, clenched and turning white with tension.

“One of them got a phone call and I guess they were beckoned to leave. They had enough time to make more of a mess while I cowered away but..” You gulped, shaking your head. “What if they come back? I think I should just call Officer Hammond and-”

“No.” Steve stood up, taking barely a stride to make his way towards the couch. He took a seat beside you, extending his hand to ever so gently cradle your jaw, turning your head to look at him. He said your name softly, barely.. “I’m going to take care of this.”

Your safe feeling was depleting and as much as you wanted to argue, to put a stop to all of this, to do it the correct way, you couldn’t. Earlier, when the threat was outside your door, you didn’t think of calling the police. It was Steve who had crossed your mind. For some unknown reason, you had a feeling he would help you. 

Steve pulled his hand away and stood again, shooting a glance to his friend. 

Bucky cleared his throat, taking a step forward. “Doll, can you tell me what the guys looked like? Identifying features?” 

You wanted to ask a thousand questions about what happened now, about what Bucky was planning on doing, about his metal arm and lack of hesitation to help Steve. But you just played along, delivering all the details you could. Once you repeated it all and answered a few of his questions, you sat up and leaned forward. “Oh. One of them went by Walker. I’m not sure if that’s a first name or..”

“Last name.” Bucky gave one nod before muttering out a tired laugh. “That fucking moron.” He looked at Steve. “Okay, I know where to go. Nat’s gonna meet me downstairs.”

Steve followed him to the door and you could hear their quiet conversation once more. 

Twisting your hands together, you sat on the couch with your thoughts. You couldn’t believe how your night had played out. Really, if you thought about the last week of your life you’d be hard pressed to believe it was real life. How could the simple act of getting a person out of harm’s way lead to this?

When you heard Steve’s footsteps heading back towards you, after the door shut behind Bucky, you stood up and looked at him. 

Okay, you had to ask. Because a lot of this felt nonsensical, impossible even.

“You don’t really work in real estate, do you?” With the most courage you could muster you met his gaze, which was stoic as he watched you. “My friend Maria had this crazy theory and.. I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into here, Steve. But this isn’t… I just did the right thing and saved you from being hit by a car and.. Now what? People with guns are breaking into my home and threatening my dog? And instead of going to the police.. I’m right here in your apartment - with you, a kind, handsome stranger who keeps offering to help and take care of me and I just don’t get it. Is this real?”

He didn’t falter or let his facade break when you spiraled. Instead, he motioned towards his kitchen. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

You sat with a steaming mug of chamomile at Steve’s kitchen island. His kitchen felt impressively Steve somehow too, with dark granite counters and cool grey tones decorating the tall cabinets. The light blue kettle that sat on his stove somehow humanized him even more though. 

Steve opted to lean against the counter, shrugging off his suit jacket as he met your eyes. “So. First, let me just say - I don’t want you to feel like I brought you here for any other reason than keeping you safe tonight. I want you to feel safe here, with me. But if you don’t feel comfortable, you can leave. I will put you up in a hotel somewhere or if you have a friend you can stay with-”

You swallowed hard and brought your hand up. “No, that’s not.. I’m sorry for, uhm, going off a bit there. I just..” You left your mug on the island and leaned forward, balancing your chin on your hand while your elbow propped you up. You matched his gaze, somehow both honest and shy. “In college, my friends and I did this thing called honesty hour. Usually after a really late night or when we were a bit drunk. But the point is to be as honest as possible, but gentle, I guess. Feelings were always at risk but if it was after 2am, it was honesty only.”

A small smirk tugged at Steve’s lips as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “Okay.”

“So. Honesty hour.” You nodded.

“What do you want to know?”

“Do you always carry a gun?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“There are often dangerous, poorly- intentioned people in my line of work.”

You narrowed your eyes, pausing to take a small sip from your mug. “Your line of work - in real estate and art gallery ownership?”

Steve let out a quiet laugh. “The scope of my day to day work goes well beyond that.”

God, you had so many other questions but you had a feeling Steve was not going to share any details with you. Maybe it was better that way for both of you. Because answering some of your questions might ruin everything. “Would you rather I not ask about that? Your.. full scope?”

“I don’t think it qualifies for your honesty hour, no.”

You were ready to counter with something but you figured it wasn’t worth pushing his buttons. After another big breath, you closed your eyes. “Do you think those guys are going to show up again? At my apartment?”

The mug that had been resting in Steve’s hand found a careful spot on the counter. He took a big step forward and leaned onto the island opposite you.

Your name left his lips. You opened your eyes.

“I promise they won’t.” It was clear some things were being left unsaid, hidden behind his reassuring smile. His hand landed on yours as it rested on the table. “Trust me when I say I’ll never let that sort of thing happen again.” You looked from him, focusing on the warmth in his eyes and how his palm felt against your skin and…

“My turn.” Steve ran his thumb over the top of your hand, as if searching for the softest spot. “You called me. How come?”

You had never been so grateful to hear someone’s phone ring, because you did not want to answer that question. He tried to ignore it but the buzzing in his pocket filled in the quiet that lingered between you. Just like that, whatever that moment was or could have been - vanished. He gave you an apologetic glance as he stepped away. 

You sipped on your tea, feeling more and more run down by this whole situation. You were tired, finally and Steve’s big sweeping statements gave you some peace of mind. You trusted him, that was the only thing you were certain about. 

Despite everything, including the silly rumours from Maria and the broken remains of your apartment on the other side of Brooklyn… There was something about Steve that made you feel okay about all of this.

But the thought of talking any more about it now made your thoughts spiral out of control. Truthfully, you needed to sleep. And you really needed to talk all of this through in the group chat with the girls. You desperately wished your phone was still functioning.

Before you could even let your train of thoughts derail, you heard Hercules’ feet tapping against the floors in search of you. You took one final sip of your tea and met him in the living room. Your boy was ready for bed too.

You hesitated though, glancing from him to the door. He looked that way too. Maybe it would be smart to take him out one more time before you headed to bed.

Steve found you near the door and reached his hand out to stop you before you could even grab your coat. “Hey. I can take him out, if you want to get ready for bed.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Please, I insist.” He grabbed Hercules’ leash from the small entry table and rested his hand on your shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about adopting a dog for months now so this is a nice reminder about responsibilities.” 

Steve’s genuine smile was unmatched and, well, Hercules just looked excited for one last moment of fresh air. “Okay, fine. For your own research purposes. Thanks Steve.”

He waved his hand and pulled on a coat from the hanging rack. “The guest room is just down there.” With his free hand he pointed down the hall behind you. “First door on the right. Bathroom across the hall.”

The minute Steve was outside the door with Hercules, you made your way to the bedroom. You nearly gasped when you opened the door, considering the space was practically the same size as your entire apartment. And god, the view from the windows. A full floor to ceiling piece of glass illuminated Brooklyn below.

The bathroom was just as impressive. After finding a fluffy towel and figuring out how the shower and faucet functioned, you let yourself get consumed by the water. Though you felt far past your breaking point, you held back your tears. Yes, the entire night behind you had been a rollercoaster. And yes, you were nervous about what tomorrow was going to bring.

But you were safe. That’s all that mattered.

--

Chapter 01 - Chapter 03

[batmannotes]

McFarlane Toys DC Retro (The New Adventures of Batman)

6 inch Action Figures

McFarlane Toys announces the upcoming release of DC Retro: The New Adventures of Batman 6" Figures.

Incredibly detailed 6" scale retro style figure based on the THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN.

Designed with articulation with up to 12 moving parts for retro play.

Collect all McFARLANE TOYS THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN figures.

A playboy billionaire by day, Bruce Wayne's double life affords him the comfort of a life without financial worry, a loyal butler-turned-guardian and the perfect base of operations in the ancient network of caves beneath his family's sprawling estate. By night, however, he sheds all pretense, dons his iconic scalloped cape and pointed cowl and takes to the shadowy streets, skies and rooftops of Gotham City.

Incredibly detailed 6" scale retro style figure based on the THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN.

Designed with articulation with up to 12 moving parts for retro play.

Accessories include Batarang and Bat-cuffs.

Collect all McFARLANE TOYS THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN figures.

Acrobat Dick Grayson was the youngest member of his parents' death-defying circus act. But after their cold-blooded murder, Dick vowed revenge. Seeing a genuine piece of himself in the boy, Batman took him in, and gave him a better outlet for his anger. Becoming Batman's protege, Robin is an expert fighter and astounding acrobat, with the toughest example in the world to live up to. But the Boy Wonder's true strength may lie in not being Batman, and providing a beacon of hope and family throughout the Dark Knight's grim crusade.

Incredibly detailed 6" scale retro style figure based on the THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN.

Designed with articulation with up to 12 moving parts for retro play.

Accessories include Bat-radio and Batarang.

Collect all McFARLANE TOYS THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN figures.

Not all heroes in Gotham City wear masks. GCPD Commissioner James Gordon is the Dark Knight's greatest ally, and one of his closest friends. 

Incredibly detailed 6" scale retro style figure based on the THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN.

Designed with articulation with up to 12 moving parts for retro play.

Includes Bat-Mite accessory.

Collect all McFARLANE TOYS THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN figures.

The mean streets of Gotham City have a number of guardian angels watching over them. And one of the first, the young woman who turned the Dynamic Duo into the Batman family, was Batgirl. Barbara Gordon has always existed between two worlds: her life at home as the only daughter of Police Commissioner James Gordon and her life swinging from gargoyles as an associate of the Dark Knight. 

Incredibly detailed 6" scale retro style figure based on the THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN.

Designed with articulation with up to 12 moving parts for retro play.

Accessories include Batarang and Bat-cuffs.

Collect all McFARLANE TOYS THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN figures.

No name strikes terror into the hearts of Gotham City's citizens quite like the Joker. In a city overrun with larger-than-life criminals, the always-laughing villain stands alone. A complete psychopath with no moral compass whatsoever, the Joker, whose real name and identity remain completely unknown, is characterized by his chalk-white skin, green hair and a permanent rictus grin stretched across his face. But there isn't a single thing funny about this particular clown, who only finds humor in the suffering of others. 

Incredibly detailed 6" scale retro style figure based on the THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN.

Designed with articulation with up to 12 moving parts for retro play.

Includes newspaper accessory.

Collect all McFARLANE TOYS THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN figures.

Possessing a genius-level intellect, the Riddler creates elaborate, sometimes Rube Goldberg-esque traps, and is even willing to use innocent civilians as bait. Although not physically imposing, the Riddler's brilliance, neurosis and lack of empathy make him an incredibly dangerous foe. He cares very little, if at all, about the lives of those he uses in his plots and instead only sees them as disposable pawns in his continuing intellectual battle against Batman.

Incredibly detailed 6" scale retro style figure based on the THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN.

Designed with articulation with up to 12 moving parts for retro play.

Includes Riddler's question mark cane accessory.

Collect all McFARLANE TOYS THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN figures.

Preorder now at Amazon.

[drogba-prospect]

Fallen angel - Wikipedia

Fallen angels are angels who were expelled from Heaven. The literal term "fallen angel" does not appear in any Abrahamic religious texts, but is used to describe angels who sinned. Such angels often tempt humans to sin.

SIN OF THE ANGELS

Lesson: The sin of the angels has been traditionally spoken of as a sin of rebellion. “I will not serve” is the statement attributed to satan and the other fallen angels. “I will not serve God or obey His will.” Recall also the statement that the serpent spoke to Adam and Eve in the Garden when he seduced them to act in disobedience to God by eating the forbidden fruit. The serpent convinced them to eat the forbidden fruit by saying, “For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (Genesis 3:5, RSV-CE). This line also reveals the hidden first sin of the angels. They wanted to be gods. They did not want to serve the one God. They did not want to obey. They rebelled. They wanted to be the masters of their own destiny rather than to humbly submit to the plan of God for their lives.

BELMÔNT'S SIN: STREET IDENTITY MURAL CROWN APOTHEOSIS

In religion, apotheosis was a feature of many religions in the ancient world, and some that are active today. It requires a belief that there is a possibility of newly-created gods, so a polytheistic belief system. The major modern religions of Christianity, Islam, and Judaism do not allow for this. In Hellenistic culture, a mural crown identified tutelary deities such as the goddess Tyche (the embodiment of the fortunes of a city, familiar to Romans as Fortuna), and Hestia (the embodiment of the protection of a city, familiar to Romans as Vesta). The high cylindrical polos of Rhea/Cybele too could be rendered as a mural crown in Hellenistic times, specifically designating the mother goddess as patron of a city. Nightlife entertainment is often more adult-oriented than daytime entertainment. Location theory has become an integral part of economic geography, regional science, and spatial economics.

Example; Mt. Pleasant Road Pluto Effect Invocation Wing Transfer

NOCTU [PLUTO ANGEL/NOCTURNALIS]

(Left-handed Path Apotheosis Pluto-Mural Crown Wing Transfer) Angelology Acrostics Treatise Text: Material World Angels: Spiritual Angelology not Religious (Bible Influence: De Coelesti Hierarchia and Summa Theologica), Left Handed Path Apotheosis, Illusions, Dionysian Mysteries, Black Angel Wings, Sagittarius-Scorpio Sensory Overload Asperger's (Fetus Alcohol Consumption and Prenatal Hormones Vitamin) Birth, Virtue Heavenly Host, Pluto Evening Star Astral Body Planetary Intelligence, Self-Defication Mural Crown Horcrux Oversoul (STREGA), Change Oversoul to New Title (Salesian), Cardinal-Mutable Human Form with Fixed Spirit, Invocation Possession, Angelology Students, and Angel Philosopher), Mural Crown (Tutlery Deity, Civil Heraldy, Heraldy), Salesian Church Enterprises (Real Estate; Liberal Arts Immersion Schools; Gold; Athletics; Fine Arts), Philosophy (CAAB: Culture, Art, Aesthetic, Bohemian; 5 Senses City, Selective Sensory Development, Distorted Sensory Play, Sensory Overload Asperger's, Culture Antagonist Liberal Arts)

RUSSE NOIR (À MA SAUCE) FOOTBALL

À ma sauce Literally: To my sauce, True meaning: Suit my style

VEDETTE: 3-4-1-2 has 4 Pivot Formations so 5 Total: Transition to a 4-4-2 Diamond, Transition to a 4-4-2, Transition to a 4-2-3-1, Transition to a 3-3-1-3

Central African Republic 4-4-2 Diamond Variant: 1-3-4-2 (1) À ma sauce (Sweeper Deep-lying Playmaker Wingback) (4) Diamant (À ma sauce: Counterpressing Pivot Pressing Triggers, Sweeper-Winger Pivots, Overlapping Runs, W; V; I Box Keeping Formations) [Key Stats: Front Foot, Pressing Triggers, Clearance, Aerial Duel, Interceptions, Blocked Shots, Tackles, Final Ball, Key Dribbles, Overlapping Runs, Set Piece Taker] Spacing, Possession, Pass Completion, and Counter Pressing with Pursuit and Ambush Predation One Team Box Touches and Capture the Flag with Analytics-Geometry Total Football Trixie Bet on CNS Drugs (Xanax and Modafinil)

Define a run in one of two ways: (i) as a set of consecutive goals scored by one team, without the other team scoring a goal; (ii) as a set of consecutive scoring events by one team, each event being either a goal or one or more Set Piece. Play aggressive and with counter pressing and run it up on the score board in the first half and after halftime play defense. You get a break at half and it's easier to win when someone plays defense and looks for opportunities instead of Attacking.

Posterior Chain Super Compensation and Speed-Endurance (Elastic-Connective Tissue) Force-Velocity Curve; Crescent Moon Horizontal Plane Vertical Force Sprinting Mechanics.

WM or Diamond Rover Futsal Pivot Formation

Set Piece Stylistic Biomechanics: Shooting Knee at Wall for Curve and Placement Knee for Corner. Follow through with Shot with proper Body Alignment

W, I, M, V; Box Keeping Formation with 3 Centre-Backs

Knee to Feet or Shoulder to Feet Cradling for Touch/Entertainment

UEFA Front Office Curriculum

Museum d'histoire: Broken down into three major section — “A Lineage of Coaches Players and Places,” “Proving Grounds” and “Cultures of Basketball” — City/Game documents how basketball first found its origins in the neighborhoods of NYC and then went on to produce a roster of local legends who played everywhere from Rucker Park and the Cage on West 4th Street to Christ the King High School and St. John’s University.

Agility Ladder Eyes Pocket: Eyes Between Defenders Feet and Ball, Numbered Footwork V-Step (Shifting Defenders with Momentum) et L-Step (Explosive First Step), All moves should form a Triangle or an Incomplete Triangle (Coup de Pied)

*Push-Pull Sprint/Shooting Cycle: Pull Glutes et Hamstring; Push Calf et Quads for Sprints.

Sprint Size Up: A series of feint Karaoké dribble moves with Eye Tricks (Fake Pass) but Sprint Position Finish

Triangle Philosophy: All Dribbling Moves should form a Triangle or an Incomplete Triangle while using V-Step (Shifting Defenders with Momentum) et L-Step (Explosive First Step).

Thé Crescent: In Close Dribbling; Crescent Footwork with L Shapes (Paul Pogba)

On the Run Dribbling Moves: Letters and Shapes; Still Play 1 on 1: Numbered Footwork

Piedi Felici Courts: Drills Side/Box Play with 1 Net; Design Vaporwave Action Painting Angels; Knee for Direction and Sole Drags for Dribbling Touch and Crescent Moon Sprint Mechanics

Gambling Games: 5 Roll (Captain, Ship, Crew); Live-Pool Betting Monopoly

Stylistic Biomechanics: Dribbling Foot To Ball Contact (Balls of Feet and Arch of Feet); Knee for Direction; Foot Drags; & Hip Angle, Crescent Moon Running Mechanics, and Laces Kick.

Diamond Football (15 mins)

Set Up

-Lay out two overlapping sets of 4 flat markers in the positions shown above.

-Ask the players to stand on a flat marker for their teams colour (Red on Red, Yellow on Yellow).

Instruction

-Whenever the ball goes out for a kick in or for the defenders ball, the players must stand on their markers before play begins.

-As soon as the ball has been played in, players are free to move.

-Reset everytime the ball goes out.

Coaching Points, Progressions Ect.

-Ask players to shout out what each position on the park is to devlop understanding of their roles.

-If you decide to go to a normal game , leave the markers out for a visual aid for the players.

-If more than 8 players, Add in Goalkeepers who would then play the ball out to the DF,LM,RM.

-Rotate Positions, Ask Players to stand on a marker they haven't been on before

BELMÔNT'S ACCENT

Full Lips Endings with Vertical Narrow Mouth and Soft Rs

BELMÔNT'S SIN INDEX FUND PORTFOLIO 

Sin stock sectors usually include alcohol, tobacco, gambling, sex-related industries (Cabaret and Burlesque), and weapons manufacturers.

Diageo 

Phillip Morris

Sports Betting Investment Trust

Pharmaceuticals

Business Clusters with Scrum Management and Accelerators to produce Festivals.

Example: Create a Index Fund Portfolio of 15-20 Stocks and using Supply Side Economics to create Decentralized Gambling Economy.

BELMÔNT'S DECENTRALIZED GAMBLING ECONOMY

Corporate-Capital Gains Tax Haven

High Stakes Minimum Buy In

Card Gambling (Signal and President): Top 2 highest bids fight for the Coup d'état and the other two are lesser men, the lesser men are subordinates that aid in playing cards for the warlord, the winning team splits the money, the warlords switches based on the 13 cards dealt and bets placed, the first team to shed all of their cards win.

Domestic Gambling: Boxing

Retirement Gambling: Boat Racing

Residency Program for Tax Benefits

BELMÔNT'S TURF ACCOUNTING MODEL

+EV

Python Programming Gaussian Distribution

Exotic Options Trading Live Betting

Parlays Minimum for Round Robins

Daily Fantasy Sports Rakes

NOUCHI PALACE

Definitions of ballroom. noun. large room used mainly for dancing. synonyms: dance hall, dance palace**. types: disco, discotheque.

Go Go Music Influenced, Eurphoric Trance Chord Progression Melody, Progressive House and Drum n' Bass Percussion-808 Call and Response Staccato Polyrhythm or Layered Kick and Punch 808.

In his 1972 study of French lute music, scholar Wallace Rave compiled a list of features he believed to be characteristic of style brisé. Rave's list included the following: the avoidance of textural pattern and regularity in part writing; arpeggiated chord textures with irregular distribution of individual notes of the chord; ambiguous melodic lines; rhythmic displacement of notes within a melodic line; octave changes within melodic line; irregular phrase lengths.

Have the Snare and Kick say, "Hi, How are you?" And the 808 say, "I am good thanks for asking.”

Use progressive House to push the Drums Conversation to either Fast and Punchy for Happy or Slow and Deep for Sad.

In technical terms, "go-go's essential beat is characterized by a five through four syncopated rhythm that is underscored prominently by the bass drum and snare drum, and the hi-hat... [and] is ornamented by the other percussion instruments, especially by the conga drums, rototoms, and hand-held cowbells."[5]

Polyrhythm: In music, a cross-beat or cross-rhythm is a specific form of polyrhythm. The term cross rhythm was introduced in 1934 by the musicologist Arthur Morris Jones (1889–1980). It refers to a situation where the rhythmic conflict found in polyrhythms is the basis of an entire musical piece.[1]

Four-on-the-floor (or four-to-the-floor) is a rhythm used primarily in dance genres such as disco and electronic dance music. It is a steady, uniformly accented beat in 4. 4 time in which the bass drum is hit on every beat (1, 2, 3, 4).[1] This was popularized in the disco music of the 1970s[2] and the term four-on-the-floor was widely used in that era, since the beat was played with the pedal-operated, drum-kit bass drum.[3][4] (Punch 808-Kick)

Polyrhythm 4 on the Floor examples 2:4 or 5:4

Hard trance is often characterized by strong, hard (or even downpitch) kicks, fully resonant basses and an increased amount of reverberation applied to the main beat. Melodies vary from 140 to 180 BPMs and it can feature plain instrumental sound in early compositions, with the latter ones tending to implement side-chaining techniques of progressive on digital synthesizers.

Singles Only Email Raves Blogger then Multi Market Distribution Deal: A distribution deal is a contract to release the music to platforms, but not own the publishing or exclusively lock the artist in. Record Artist Producer Label: Have Polyrhythm Artist earn Streaming Percentage under a Recording Artist Deal. Label has Distribution Above Me and I have Manufacturing over Polyrhythm Artist. Have a end of the Year Album for New Year's Raves!

"ALWAYS WELCOMED" by POPCAAN

No jezebel can't enter di Heaven gates

Angels only

She wan pull up a long time she ah wait

Guyanese girl dem ah heavyweight

Pretty girl always welcomed (Trouble)

Tight pussy gyal always welcome

Gyal yuh body hotter than Kingston

Tight pussy gyal always welcomed

Love when yuh bubble up, mi wan lock you down

Tight pussy gyal always welcomed

Bend it over for me slowly

Tight pussy gyal always welcomed

Baby yuh thick like phone ah

Wan you sit down pon di throne yah

Love when you bend it over

Jump on the first flight to Arizona

Fuck you pon di dresser top slowly

Get yuh pussy wet rub yuh clit, hold me

Sink it in deep dat mi kno yuh love

Mek yuh draws fly weh like a likkle dove

Tight freaky girl wha me singin bout

Love when you put di cocky inna yuh mouth

Turn yuh back way and fuck it up right

Gyal yuh pussy tight, me will pay down

Mek yuh wine pon di body pon di head pon di pine

Underneath yuh nuh big like stadium

Wine fast a way now

Bite up di K now

Skinout and lay down, yeah

Pretty girl always welcome

Big pussy gyal always welcomed (Woioi)

Gyal yuh body hotter than Kingston

Tight pussy gyal always welcomed

Love when yuh bubble up, mi wan lock you down

Tight pussy gyal always welcomed

Bend it over for me slowly

Tight pussy gyal always welcomed

Cock up yuh pussy mi wan see it

Sit down pon di body like ah issa van seat

Pon yuffi gwarn badder although you conceit

Hot gyal ah George Town, hot gyal a Berbice (Trouble)

Love gyaldem freaky an bad yeah

Wine up and den turn it back weh

Open yuh legs dem fi Poppy

Hammer yuh body like Rodney

I'm giving you a rough ride

Love when you ride on me

I'm giving you a rough ride

Love when you ride on me

Baby

Love when you ride on me

Pretty girl always welcomed (Trouble)

Tight pussy gyal always welcomed

Gyal yuh body hotter than Kingston

Tight pussy gyal always welcomed

Love when yuh bubble up, mi wan lock you down

Tight pussy gyal always welcomed

Bend it over for me slowly

Tight pussy gyal always welcomed

Pretty girl always welcomed (Trouble)

Tight pussy gyal always welcomed

Gyal yuh body hotter than Kingston

Tight pussy gyal always welcomed

Love when yuh bubble up, mi wan lock you down

Tight pussy gyal always welcomed

Bend it over for me slowly

Tight pussy gyal always welcomed

BELMÔNT'S SYSTEM: CAPÔI RETAINER AGREEMENT WITH ASSET PROTECTION TRUST

Capo: Describes a ranking made member of a family who leads a crew of soldiers. A capo is similar to a military captain who commands soldiers. Soldier: Also known as a “made man,” soldiers are the lowest members of the crime family but still command respect in the organization.

A capo is a "made member" of an Italian crime family who heads a regime or "crew" of soldiers and has major status and influence in the organization.

Consigliere: Defense and Corporate Lawyers

Head Boss: Ministry of Medicine

Underboss: Pharmaceutical Industry

Capo: CAPÔI RETAINER AGREEMENT

Soliders: Artisans

Commercialism is the application of both manufacturing and consumption towards personal usage, or the practices, methods, aims, and distribution of products in a free market geared toward generating a profit.

Commercial art is art created for advertising or marketing purposes. Commercial artists are hired by clients to create images and logos that sell products. Unlike works of fine art that convey an artist's personal expression, commercial art must address the client's goals.

The word 'Commercial' is defined as follows: Concerned with or engaged in commerce. Commerce is the exchange of goods or services among two or more parties.

Craftsmen are committed to the medium, not to self-expression. Artists are committed to their self-expression, not the medium.

A medium of exchange is an intermediary instrument and system used to facilitate the purchase and sale of goods and services between parties.

Stretch and Micro Goals

Music Medium System: Distribution and Retailers Contract Theory (System) for Music (Instrument)

Football Medium System: Analytics and Geometry for Free Role (System) Trixies (Instrument)

Age 16-19

Bond Funds

Farmland REITS

CFDS

Real Estate Brokerage Trust Account

Age 20-30

Farmland Recession Proof Stocks (Cosmetics, AgTech, Ag ETFS, AgETN)

Incubator and Startup Accelerators

Real Estate Joint Ventures

Age 30-40

Farmland Blue Chip Indexes w/ Credit Spread Options

TUNNEL STRATEGY (OFFSHORE BANKING)

Purpose: Permanent Residency Card

$250k Deposit

$125k: 60/40 portfolio, 60% Fixed Income & REITs and 40% Blue Chip Stocks

$50k: Guaranteed Investment Certificates (GICs) and term deposits are secured investments. This means that you get back the amount you invest at the end of your term. The key difference between a GIC and a term deposit is the length of the term. Term deposits generally have shorter terms than GICs.

$75k: Spending Cash

SIN STOCKS PORTFOLIO

Sin stock sectors usually include alcohol, tobacco, gambling, sex-related industries, and weapons manufacturers.

Sports Betting Investment Trust

Pharmaceuticals

Example: Create a Index Fund Portfolio of 15-20 Stocks and using Supply Side Economics to create Decentralized Gambling Economy.

FESTIVALS DEAL

Singles Only Email Raves Blogger then Multi Market Distribution Deal: A distribution deal is a contract to release the music to platforms, but not own the publishing or exclusively lock the artist in. Record Artist Producer Label: Have Polyrhythm Artist earn Streaming Percentage under a Recording Artist Deal. Label has Distribution Above Me and I have Manufacturing over Polyrhythm Artist. Have a end of the Year Album for New Year's Raves!

NEUROPLASTICITY DRUG-CRIME NEXUS BASED ON TRAFFICKING

CPP, CNS Depressants, et FENTALOGS: Cul-de-sac

Defensive Penalty Capture The Flag Raiding Warfare

Grey-Decentralized Markets

Bastilles: Cul-de-sac Artist Résidences Penthouse Complexes

Polyrhythm Raves

Acid House Art Gallery

International Film Festival

Hôtel Chefs

Seigneurial System/Tableau Economique Raw Material Économics Production Spot

Surautomatism

Discount Networking Acid House Party

Opium Dens and Fragrance Festivals

Pill Pressers

CNS depressants

Upper-tier County System

Defense Lawyers are Traplords (Trafficking P4P and Malicious Prosecution)

Cash Conversion Cycle (CCC)

Brain Receptor Dealing

Neuroplasticity Drug-Crime Nexus

Religious Ecstasy

Entheogens are psychedelic drugs—and sometimes certain other psychoactive substances—used for engendering spiritual development or otherwise in sacred contexts

Live-Pool Betting Monopoly Board Game

Summary Sentencing

Urban Level: Street Culture Art Gallery (Street culture may refer to: Urban culture, the culture of towns and cities, Street market, Children's street culture, Street carnival, Block party, Street identity, Street food, Café culture, Several youth subculture or counterculture topics pertaining to outdoors of urban centers. These can include: Street art, Street photography, Street racing, Street wear, Hip-hop culture, Urban fiction, Street sports, Streetball, Flatland BMX, Freestyling), Art Pedagogy, Artist Residency, Art Schools, and Art Plugs

Art Pedagogy: Arts-based pedagogy is a teaching methodology in which an art form is integrated with another subject matter to impact student learning. 28-30. Arts-based pedagogy results in arts-based learning (ABL),11 which is when a student learns about a subject through arts processes including creating, responding or performing. Aesthetic Teaching: Seeking a Balance between Teaching Arts and Teaching through the Arts. In aesthetic education, learning must be developed especially with the inclusion of sensations and with the help of feelings. Sensations and feelings should lead to movement, representation, and expression. Aesthetic learning often entails learning to distinguish certain qualities or objects aesthetically in different ways depending on the situation and the purpose. Certain things can be experienced in negative ways in one activity and in positive ways in another.

A designer drug is a structural or functional analog of a controlled substance that has been designed to mimic the pharmacological effects of the original drug, while avoiding classification as illegal and/or detection in standard drug tests

Patchwork tattoos are a collection of tattoos collaged together to create an overall design. Each individual 'patch' of the tattoo can be a different design, symbol or element with a little space in between. Patchwork tattoos are a collection of tattoos collaged together to create an overall design. In short, the gun-toting angel was a multifaceted metaphor. “It undoubtedly also reflected the Catholic Counter-Reformation militaristic rhetoric,” wrote Donahue-Wallace, “which promoted the church as an army and heavenly beings as its soldiers.”

DECADENCE AESTHETICS THEORIES

Slogan

J'Cartier, Je cours après les vœux de champagne,

Subjective

Based on or influenced by personal feelings, tastes, or opinions

Gastronomy

Precarious Balance

Precariously: If something is happening or positioned precariously, it's in danger. A glass could be precariously balanced on the edge of a table. If something is on the verge of danger, then the word precariously fits.

Grey & Decentralized Markets

Tableau Économique

Semblance

Semblance is generally used to suggest a contrast between outward appearance and inner reality.

High Socioeconomic Status & Tattoos

Phantasmagorical

Having a fantastic or deceptive appearance

adjective. having a fantastic or deceptive appearance, as something in a dream or created by the imagination. having the appearance of an optical illusion, especially one produced by a magic lantern.

Socioeconomic Status Development Immigration Multilingual Sensory Play

Law of Polarity in Relationships

In any successful relationship that has an intimate connection and sexual attraction, there is polarity. What does this mean exactly? Polarity in relationships is the spark that occurs between two opposing energies: masculine and feminine. Gender does not affect whether you have masculine or feminine energy.

Second Reflection

Burden Aesthetics with Intentions

The Second Reflection lays hold of the Technical Procedures

Tattoos

NOCTU

[kemetic-dreams]

In 1848, an enslaved woman named Biddy Mason was forced to walk 1,700 miles from her master's plantation in Mississippi to Utah.

She was made to follow behind a 300-wagon caravan with her three young children in tow, including the newborn that she carried the whole way.⁠

Just three years later, Mason was forced to make a second walk all the way to California. However, her master didn't realize that slavery had been outlawed there just a year prior.

So, Mason sued her master for her freedom — and won. Then she used what little money she had to buy land in downtown Los Angeles that would ultimately grow into a real estate empire that made her one of the richest women in the city.⁠

[diazsdimples]

Fuck It Friday

Hello and happy very belated FIF, in which I introduce yet another new wip. I made this post a month or so ago, in which I outlined an HC of mine that after the first, Bobby and Athena buy a ranch. That AU has been consuming me every since so I've decided to write it! Welcome to the Bathena Ranch AU, featuring every other member of the 118 and some very wholesome ranchy vibes.

Tagged by @theotherbuckley and @actuallyitsellie

Bobby’s eating breakfast when he sees it. Like every morning for the past two months, Bobby makes himself some eggs on the too-small stovetop, brews some coffee in their tiny coffee machine, and plonks himself down at their two-person table with his laptop. He opens his favourite rural real estate site, not expecting there to be much change from yesterday, and settles in for a morning of meaningless scrolling while getting increasingly frustrated at America’s housing market. This morning, though, there’s a new listing. Perking up, Bobby sits forward in his chair and reads the blurb with interest. It’s in an area they haven’t looked before, out near Kagel Canyon, but claims to still be within an hour’s drive from central Los Angeles. Bobby clicks open Google Maps and plugs in the ranch’s address, then Station 118. It’s 8:30am, so traffic is about as bad as it’ll get, but even then, it’ll still only take him an hour and 10 minutes to get in. It means an early start to the day if he wants to get to work on time, but that’s never bothered him before. Bobby allows the tiniest bit of hope to trickle through his veins as he does one final once over of the listing. Usually he’ll try and get a vibe based off the initial presentation of the listing, before he allows himself to click on it, just in case. Everything about this ranch catches his eye. He clicks in and holds his breath as he begins to scroll through the photos. It’s perfect. The home is just about everything Bobby’s dreamed of. From what he can tell, it’s been made in the typical style for a ranch home, with a long veranda out the front, complete with a swing chair and planter boxes. The kitchen and bedrooms look like they’re out of a western film – and yeah, maybe it’ll require a little bit of touching up, but there’s potential. Shoving the last of his eggs into his mouth, Bobby scrolls back to the beginning and leans back in his chair. “Athena! Come here for a second?” His wife wanders in from the bedroom a moment later, looking sleep-rumpled and her face split in a wide yawn. “Whassamatter?” Bobby pulls out the chair beside him and pats it eagerly. “C’mere. I think I’ve found our dream home.” “Your dream home, more like,” Athena comments, but she takes a seat regardless, resting her head on Bobby’s shoulder. She’s silent for a moment as she scrolls through the pictures, her expression neutral. She quirks an eyebrow at the shot of the backyard – overgrown and full of weeds – and scoffs when she sees the kitchen with it’s frankly offensive pink and green colour scheme, but other than that, it’s hard to get a grasp on what she’s really feeling. Bobby talks her through the amenities, the amount of land the ranch has, their commute time to the city and, most importantly, the fact that it’s within their price range. Athena listens, making noises of affirmation when she needs to and nodding her head. When Bobby’s finally finished, Athena sits back in her chair and crosses her arms, looking contemplative. “Well? What do you think?” Bobby asks. He tries not to seem too eager, but this is the most excited he’s gotten about something since he and Michael busted an illegal surgeon across the road.

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