#Is it safe in Antigua

[oceanfrontvillaantigua]

Your Comprehensive Guide to Antigua: Top FAQs Answered

When visiting a new country for a vacation, it pays to know as much about the place as possible. Besides your travel destinations and other items in your itinerary, travellers like yourself should be aware of the technical aspects of your getaway, such as the currency, local laws, and others.

Visitors to Antigua ask several common questions, including “Is it safe in Antigua?” and “What currency does the country use?” These frequently asked questions, and more, are answered in this article as guidance in preparation for your Antigua tours.

Where is Antigua Located?

Antigua is an island that belongs to the country of Antigua and Barbuda, a twin-island nation found in the eastern Caribbean in the West Indies. Antigua is the largest of the two islands, known for its stunning beaches.

Do I Need a Visa to Visit Antigua?

The Visa requirements to enter Antigua and Barbuda will depend on your nationality. Some are exempt from the Visa requirement, including Spain, France, Denmark, Canada, Australia, and Singapore. It is best to check your local embassy for visas and other travel requirements for more detailed information.

Is It Safe in Antigua?

Antigua and Barbuda is considered to be among the safest travel destinations in the Caribbean. With a generally low crime rate, you won’t have trouble with your security and comfort on your vacation. Just take the usual precautions when visiting any new location, such as keeping an eye on your belongings.

When is the Best Time to Travel to Antigua?

The peak tourist season for the island is between December and April, during pleasant weather in the dry season. However, hurricanes commonly occur from June to November. You can choose to travel all year round, depending on your preference.

What Currency Does Antigua Use?

The Eastern Caribbean Dollar (XCD) is Antigua and Barbuda’s official currency. The United States Dollar (USD) is widely accepted, particularly in tourist areas.

What Language Does Antigua Speak

English is recognised as the official language of Antigua and Barbuda. The locals are fluent in English.

How To Get To Antigua?

The main gateway for international tourists is the V.C Bird International Airport (ANU). You can also access the island via cruise ships.

Luxury Accommodation in Antigua: Tamarind Hills

The top luxury accommodation choice for travellers in Antigua is luxury beachfront villas. These exclusive accommodations are like homes away from home, providing world-class facilities, amenities, and services. If you are interested in living the dream in a luxury beachfront villa overlooking the famous Ffryes Beach, visit Tamarind Hills to book one.

[ohforficsakelibrary]

The Margay: Chapter 5

'That Your Husband?'

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Summary: Santiago recruits Frankie to contract for a covert agency that pairs them with danger in more ways than one. A series of one-shot snippets taking place during and around missions.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC

Word Count: ~4.9K

Rating: Explicit 18+ / masturbation (f & m), dirty talk, Frankie offers guidance, exchanging of naughty pictures and suggestive texts / tw for physical violence (I may have beat Frankie up a bit) / Minors DNI

A/N: Frankie's grounded with an injury. Audrey's good at care packages. They both need each other more than they realize.

Every time I open this file I keep fucking with this chapter so please take it now. Your effort to overlook anything that seems overworked is much appreciated.

Their third job out, Frankie manages to get himself into a bit of a scrape. 

When a hurricane flattened Barbuda’s infrastructure it created opportunity. A perfect little hideaway among the wreckage. 

A waypoint for heroin exporters to rest their weary heads. 

It’s just a seaplane over to St. Thomas and U.S. territory and a stack of bills pressed into a customs officer’s palm before making the jump to mainland soil.

And in the process of surveilling a safe house, Frankie manages to trip a sensor. 

A blow to the back of the head drops him before Audrey or Santi can get to his location.

And so they lie in wait for the right moment to spring him free.

Santi fidgets, buzzing with impatience.

Audrey turns to stone.

Nothing else will contain her rage.

When half the men leave for beers at a local bar, Audrey and Santiago split directions, cutting a quick lap around the house.

“You take the front door, I’ll take the back,” Pope directs their breach in hushed tones. When they’re in position, Audrey counts them down before putting a boot through a rusted lock.

They can hear Frankie scream. And Audrey’s stomach roils. 

In pain.

In sympathy. 

In possession.

“I got him,” she spits into their comms, prowling through shadows between the bare lightbulbs that hang from the ceiling while the incessant buzz from the generator outside covers her tracks.

They’ve only left two men guarding their catch.

Well, one guard who’s slumped in a chair in the corner fucking around on his phone, and a taller man who has Frankie on his knees by the hair, arms zip-tied behind his back. He asks who sent Frankie and when he’s told to go fuck himself he lands a a kick Frankie’s ribs that has him screaming through gritted teeth before briefly losing consciousness. 

The man catches Frankie, holding him up by the roots of his hair, repeating the question with the toe of his boot dangerously close to knocking against Fish’s balls. 

“I need those,” Audrey mutters before a bullet finds the taller man between the eyes and the butt of her gun finds the seated man’s temple. “Santi, need you in here,” she fires off into comms before dropping her gun and dropping to her knees to keep a woozy Frankie from slamming teeth-first into the floor. 

She cradles his face and surveys it, peeling each eyelid up in turn to check his reaction to light. She's not sure how hard he was knocked in the head.  

“Thought you said you weren’t gonna save me,” is the first thing out of his mouth when he sees that it’s her and not Pope who has his face in their hands. 

“Yeah, I dunno how to fly a chopper,” she lies with a wink, “so Pope and I are swimming to Antigua without you and I just got my hair done.”

Frankie manages a snort before he spits blood onto tile. His bottom lip is split, left eye swollen shut and blooming a neat shade of purple. Road rash or something akin to it mars one side of his face.

Frankie rests his cheek against her shoulder and she supports his weight as she searches him with her hands, checking for slashed fabric and gaping wounds. For areas of tender heat insulating broken bones.

For bullet wounds.

Frankie yelps when her right hand applies light pressure to his side over his tactical vest.

"Okay, okay, I've got you, Frankie."

"That bit's bad," he groans.

“Can you stand?” She snaps a ceramic knife through the zip ties binding his hands behind his back as they hear two more shots and Santi calling “clear.”

“Yeah. Yeah I think so.”

But he can't right himself from where he's leaned heavy against her.

She shifts to kneel with his arm around her shoulders and her fist gripping his belt, hauling him up with her when she stands.

"Take your time, find your feet," she whispers, a stone under his weight.

“You lovebirds good in here?” Santi pokes his head around the corner.

“Lovebirds is a strong word,” Frankie quips and Pope is glad for his sense of humor, but he can't help the way his mouth presses into a tight line as he winces.

Frankie's so pale.

“Get him to the car,” Audrey pauses to allow Santi to shoulder Frankie’s weight. “Careful of his left side. Find anything other than the stash in the dining room?”

“Nah.”

“Alright get him out of here I’m right behind you.”

She sets charges around the safe house on a delay, pausing when she passes the room Frankie was held in. She grabs his hat off of the floor and slips it on backwards before taking off towards the car.

Santi guns it the moment she slips into the open back of their Range Rover.

“How is he doing?” Pope chances a glance back over his shoulder at where Fish is laid out across the folded back seats.

“Keep driving. Do you know how to fly a chopper?”

“That’s what I have him for.”

“I do,” Frankie whispers.

“You don’t have to do anything but stay awake for me," she demands, sweeping sweat-slick hair off of his forehead.

But it’s becoming increasingly hard, it seems.

“Fuck,” she mutters under her breath. “Santi, do you know how to place an IV?’

“No?” He sounds panicked. “Am I supposed to?”

“No, I’ll do it now then. Just…call out before we hit anything rough.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Keep. Driving.” The urgency in her voice has Santiago’s heart in his throat.

He can hear Audrey shuffling around for med supplies. 

He can hear how Frankie whimpers every time they hit a bump.

“I’m fine, babe,” he tries weakly to brush his knuckles against her stomach. She takes his hand and holds his arm out turning on the flashlight on her phone before slipping it into the front pocket of her tac vest. A tourniquet tightens around his arm Frankie hears the squishy crunch of an IV bag being prepped. 

Mercifully, the vessels in his arm aren’t shy. 

“You’ve got sexy veins, Morales.”

He starts to make an off-color comment but she tells him to keep quiet and hold still. Pope holds the car as even as he can, slowing down just a hair.

Audrey steadies her breathing and lines the needle up like lining up a shot, sinking it perfectly between beats of her own heart.

“We’re good, Santi, step on it,” she hooks the IV bag to the roof and tapes the needle in place on his arm.

Mercifully it’s only five minutes until they hit the helipad. 

Audrey grabs Santiago by the shirt before he can get out. 

Speaking quickly and quietly so Frankie can’t hear.

“He’s gonna need to be helped into that bird, can you walk him? I’ll hold outside until he’s in the back, just keep the IV bag up, try not to dislodge it.”

“Done.”

They have him loaded into the chopper in two minutes and Audrey has the bird in the air in another sixty seconds.

“Thought you said…couldn’t fly?” Frankie mumbles from the back seat.

“Yeah, you know how parents tell their kids that Santa Claus is real?”

They unplug Frankie’s headset after that.

So that he can't hear the worry in their voices.

“He’s not in a good spot, is he?” Santi glances back at the pained expression on Fish’s face.

“I think his ribs are cracked under there and he’s bleeding from places he shouldn’t be.” Her body is calm but there’s urgency to her words.

And anger.

“Can you get a call through to Davis? We need to change our itinerary.”

Santi’s voice crackles over the communications channel after two minutes. “They’re saying he can’t be reached,.

“Tell them it’s me.”

And he's impressed when it works but he doesn’t question it, plugging her headset into the satellite phone when they’re connected before he slips into the back seat to keep an eye on Fish. He only hears half of the conversation from there on out.

“Davis, change of plans, we’re in the helo now, but I’m going to need a charter waiting, Morales needs medical attention.”

“I’m thinking PR, likely fractured ribs with internal bleeding, he’s in and out. He needs his head scanned to rule that out too.”

“How quick can Gordon get down there?”

“Roger.”

“Beautiful. Tell him I owe him one.”

“Fine, then we’ll call it even.”

“Confirmed. Over and out.”

_____

Frankie remembers only the whirr of seaplane engines and red lights flashing through his eyelids before he wakes with a start the next afternoon.

“Easy, hermano, hey,” Santiago soothes with a smile, sitting up in the chair next to Frankie’s hospital bed.

“Where?”

“A hospital in Puerto Rico, hey, take it easy,” Santi tosses a frayed paperback onto a side table and shifts closer to where Frankie is trying to sit up. “Hey, don’t move too much, here,” Santiago puts a remote in Frankie’s hand for him to adjust the bed rather than himself.

“You took a few nasty hits. Four broken ribs, nicked your liver and caused bleeding. Probably got a bad headache too, but no permanent damage as far as we can tell.”

“I feel like shit,” Frankie croaks.

“I would expect that you do. Had us worried for a second there. You want some water?”

“Us. Where’s?”

“Jane Bond is catching some z’s,” Santi holds a paper cup out to Frankie and nods at the floor on the other side of Frankie’s bed. 

He winces when he brings the cup to his split lip, glancing down to where Audrey is curled up on a blanket. He takes a few sips and hands the cup back to Pope.

“You said Puerto Rico?” His voice is thick with disuse.

“Antigua didn’t have the facilities, so she hooked you up,” Santiago continues in hushed tones. “Called in a favor and flew out the best doc that Davis has. Stayed up the whole night until they had you scanned and stabilized. I told her to head out and sleep in a real bed, but she’s fucking stubborn.”

“Mm, thanks, Santi,” Audrey murmurs before she realizes who he’s talking to.

She’s quick to her feet and quicker with a soft smile.

“Francisco.”

“Hi,” he tries to mirror it but his whole face is tight.

“How are you feeling?”

“Pretty fucking sore.”

And Audrey hums a laugh, throaty and warm and not unlike she does when they’re in each other’s arms.

She gently brushes matted hair off of his forehead but stops short of caressing his cheek even though she’s burning with the need to do it.

To touch him.

Feel the warmth of his skin and the beat of his heart and everything that assures her he’s still alive. 

To let her skin confirm what her eyes are seeing.

A soft knock sounds on the glass wall of the hospital room and a man motions for Audrey to join him in the hallway. After a few minutes they both step in.

“Frankie, this is Nick Gordon. He’s the best doctor I know, patched me up more times than I can count. We were in the same class and he was gracious enough to fly down. He’s been looking after you.”

“She threatened me,” Gordon quips with a wink and an outstretched palm. “Happy to see you’re awake.”

Frankie manages a shake as best he can with the cannula in his hand.

“I was just telling Aud that we’ll run a few more tests now that you’re up, go through a little bit of basic physical therapy and then have you back in here. We’ll probably keep you another night, possibly two, if that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever you need,” Frankie tries to sit up straighter and winces.

“Yeah alright, at ease Morales, you don’t have to impress me,” Gordon offers a small smile before turning to Santi and Audrey. “It’ll be a few hours, so if you guys want to grab something to eat now’s the time.”

“Yeah,” Santi runs a hand down his face and scratches at stubble. “Could probably use a shower too.”

Audrey swings around the bed and grabs her phone, pausing to gently squeeze Frankie’s foot, silently reassuring him that she’ll be back.

"C'mon," Santiago still has to coax her to leave.

“We’re booked in across the street, text me when you guys are through. Doesn't matter what time it is.” she says to Nick.

“Yes, ma’am.” Gordon catches her arm when he sees the look in her eyes. "Hey, I've got him, Aud."

“Thank you,” she whispers and slips out the door.

_____

Audrey and Santiago stumble into some tourist trap restaurant on the water because it’s the closest thing they can find with cold beer on the menu. They don’t speak again until there are appetizers in front of them.

“He’s got someone at home, right?” Audrey asks, taking a sip of beer. “To keep an eye on him. Help him out? Might be hard getting around the first few weeks, showering, cooking, all that. The less he does the quicker he’ll heal.”

“He uh,” Santiago pauses but her green eyes are filled with concern. “He can stay at mine for a few weeks. He did the same for me when I had a neck operation, it’s the least I can do.”

“Where’s his girl?” 

Santi angles heavy-lidded eyes up at her across fried plantain, hesitating before he continues. 

But she hasn’t asked it out of a need to move into an empty space in Frankie’s life.

Audrey’s asked it with conviction because she doesn’t want to hear that Frankie’s been abandoned. 

And he hates that he has to tell her the truth.

“She’s not…she left a few months ago. Took the baby with her. Moved out to California to be closer to family. They’re not…"

"There’s no one at home, Aud.”

And Audrey lets out the breath she was holding and sits back in her chair and stares out at the ocean. 

“Because of this?” 

And she means professional pursuits rather than personal ones.

“A few months before this. Probably why he agreed to take that first job in Nicaragua.” 

He doesn’t tell her about the coke relapse that drove the final nail in.

“But, is he…does he get to see her?” His daughter. Asked like anything less is an injustice to someone she cares for and therefore an injustice done unto herself.

“He tries to fly out there once a month or so. They Facetime a lot.”

It unsticks a corner of the papier-mâché Frankie’s covered in.

The shell around his heart. 

What’s underneath is as battered and bruised the body in that bed.

“Fuck,” she whispers, mouth catching on the “k”.

“Yeah it’s not ideal,” Santi takes a swig of beer.

"My dance card is full over the next few weeks."

“I’ve got him, Aud. You handled the first part. I’ve got the next.”

“You’re a good friend, Santi.”

“How long you think he’ll be down for?” He says around a mouthful of plantain.

“Nick said six to eight weeks, but probably more like ten before Davis un-grounds him," she moves to run a hand through her hair and realizes that she's still wearing Frankie's hat.

“Yeah, he’s gonna fucking hate that.”

“He hasn’t got a choice.”

“He’s gonna hate not seeing you.”

And she looks down at the ice melting in her glass of water. 

“I can’t be that for him, Santi.”

“I know. And I didn’t...didn't mean it like that. Didn’t mean to put it on you. Make it heavy, ‘m sorry.”

“Yeah," she looks down at her plate. "I know,” she sticks grilled shrimp with her fork. “I’ll send him a care package.”

_____

And Santi laughed in the moment.

But she does. 

Every week, like clockwork, first to Santiago’s house and then to Frankie’s apartment when he’s back on his own. 

An infrared heating pad shows up early on and Frankie swears it works better than the one that Santi bought from the drugstore that smells like popcorn and piss after two minutes in the microwave.

Week three she sends the memoirs of famous pilots. Books about Arctic expeditions and alpinists.

You ever climb a mountain, Aud?

He texts her from where he's shirtless on Santiago’s couch after having finished a novel about one of Everest’s most dangerous climbing seasons. He's warm and loose. Soothing heat seeping into his ribs.

Absolutely not, I’m a sea-level girl.

Why not?

Just not my medium, I suppose. Some beautiful things are better admired from afar.

And it’s probably the pain meds contributing to his reply.

You feel like one of those things right now. too beautiful. too far away.

You need to be in good working order to climb mountains, Frankie.

Miss taking you to that peak though.

Corny.

Oh she’s picky.

Discerning.

Where are you?

Uruguay. Me and mini bar gin for the night. Where are you?

Pope’s couch. he made a run to the store before it closes.

Hot. How are you feeling?

Sore. useless. bored. I miss you.

And he takes a calculated risk because he feels sore, useless, and bored.

Miss eating that pretty pussy. just thinking about how wet you get for me.

Are you hard, Frankie?

Getting there.

And he doesn’t expect what she says next.

Show me.

Frankie tongues his bottom lip with a shake of his head. He reaches under his grey sweatpants to take his length in a fist, coaxing it with the memory of her taste on his lips. He palms the base of it over cotton and snaps a picture angled down his stomach where his length rests hard and heavy angled over his left hip bone.

Fuck, you’re so big Frankie.

Miss hearing you say that, baby.

You cleared for this, Morales?

Broke my ribs, not my dick.

That would have been a real shame. Wouldn't be able to enjoy this.

And she sends a photo of her on her stomach, taken just over her left shoulder to shows off her naked back, the exaggerated arch in her spine accentuating the bare curve of her ass.

And he calls her now.

“Hi, Frankie.” She purrs when she picks up.

“I didn’t know nice girls like you sent pictures like that.”

“Who said I’m a nice girl?”

And he hums from low in his chest.

After a moment, “you ever bring toys with you, baby?”

“I was supposed to bring you,” she quips. “Now all I’ve got are my hands.”

“Well then let’s see what I can do.” He puts the phone on speaker and leaves it on his chest, rubbing a palm low over his stomach.

“You gonna listen to me, gatita?”

And she grins on the other end of the line.

“Whatever you say, Frankie.” 

“You serious, Aud?”

“Keep talking, Frankie.”

“Still on your stomach over there?”

“Mhmm.”

“Stay there. Go ahead and slip your hand down. Down to that pretty little clit.” His voice is thick with want.

And he can hear the faint slide of skin against the cotton of the duvet.

“Slowly now. Just soft little circles for me, baby.”

Frankie again reaches under his sweatpants, rubbing that sensitive spot just under the head of his cock with his ring finger before working his foreskin over the tip.

“Fuck, I wish I was behind you right now. You wet, baby?” Frankie growls.

“A little,” she whispers.

“Ohh,” he chuckles darkly. “A little’s not enough, baby. You know better than that. Move those fingers a little faster for me.”

And he mirrors the command before shifting to pull his cock out of his sweatpants entirely, wrapping his whole fist around his length. Pumping his cock in time with her moans.

“Oh, yeah baby.” He grunts and squeezes the base of his dick. Frankie's breathing has picked up to something that’s starting to make his ribs smart from the exertion. He swirls his middle finger through the slick dripping from the head of his cock, using it to ease the slide of his foreskin over his shining, reddened tip. “Louder for me, gatita.”

“Need more, Frankie,” she sighs.

“Mmm, my baby needs something inside, doesn’t she?” He teases.

“I’m gettin’ real close to not following orders, Morales,” her voice is husky when she bites back.

“Okay, baby.” he grins. “Okay. Just two fingers, hermosa. Inside.” She moans as she does it. “Yeahhh,” Frankie answers, pumping himself faster.

“Bet you’re so wet for me right now. So warm. Does it feel good, baby?”

“It’s not enough, Frankie,” she whimpers. Her fingers aren’t long enough—not thick enough—to do what Frankie does.

“I know, baby,” he soothes through his own desperate ache. “I know. You’re gonna move those hips for me, okay?” He’s hissing through teeth now, bucking up into his fist. “Go on. Grind down on your hand—for me.” 

And she rolls her hips to put pressure on her clit with the heel of her palm, her fingers buried in her cunt, pressing against that spot inside that builds a warm wave of pleasure on the verge of breaking. 

And Frankie can tell from five thousand miles away by the way she starts to cry out. 

“Feels so good, baby.” She’s breathless.

“Oh yeah,” his pace speeds up, “fuck yeah, baby. Yes. Let me hear you.” He tugs on his balls with his free hand and imagines each thrust of his hips is a thrust up into her hot, tight cunt.

“So close, Frankie,” she gasps, open-mouthed against the bedspread 

“Yeah, baby. Come for me. Babyyy. Oh—ff—fuck. Let me hear it." His voice is ragged—wild with need. With desperation. "Let me hear you fucking come. As loud as you want, gatita. Come for me. Come, baby, come.”

And she pants his name until her voice breaks on a moan and a choked screech of the last syllable.

“Baby....baby, my sexy little ba—ooh fff—UCK.”

And Frankie grunts and grits his teeth through growls as his hips snap hard against his fist, spilling thick stripes of semen over his bare stomach.

His breathing is hard and pained as he hears Audrey’s soft, answering moans. 

And for a moment they just listen to each other breathe.

“You okay, Frankie?”

“So good,” he murmurs.

After a thick pause, “ribs hurt like a bitch. Possibly…overexerted myself," he pants, lifting his hand up to survey the sticky white that coats his fingers.

“Oh, Frankie,” she sighs.

Sighs like she wishes she was there, fitted against the ache. 

Sighs like she wants to kiss it better.

“It was worth it, ba— fuck.” Frankie hears the garage door open.

“What…”

“Pope’s back.”

“Tell him he can blame me for his living room smelling like come.”

“Fuck. Yeah, I gotta go.”

“Go Frankie.”

“Good night, pretty baby.”

“Night, Frankie. Good luck.”

He hangs up with a smile and pockets his phone, rushing to crack a window with his clean hand as quickly as he can given the sticking pain in his ribs.

Frankie slips into the bathroom seconds before he hears plastic bags being loaded into the kitchen.

“You good, Fish?” Santiago yells out.

“Yeah,” he answers and starts the shower as his phone buzzes with a text.

You’re stunningly good at that by the way, Francisco.

He sends a winking face.

Can’t wait to do it in person, baby.

In time, Francisco.

_____

The next week she sends both sweet and salty snacks because she doesn’t know which he prefers until he texts her that the sour peach rings she sent were amazing. 

The following week a whole case of them arrives at his door.  

Around week six Frankie finds that she tucked a tastefully suggestive polaroid into a particularly salacious chapter of The Delta of Venus and between it and the reading material and how long it’s been—

Frankie completely ruins his copy. 

His ribs don’t quite hurt as much this time.

He briefly considers shipping it back to her, wrinkled cover, pasted-together pages and all, along with a note that reads “enjoyed this one” but he doesn’t know her address.

Frankie figures you can’t ship biohazards anyway and tosses it instead.

The polaroid though, he keeps.

_____

Week eight her phone lights up with a text from Frankie, right around midnight in his time zone.

I miss the way you smell.

Your hair. your skin.

And Audrey’s heart aches with the intimacy of his confession.

Oh, Frankie. I miss you too.

I've been cheating though. I have your hat.

Keep it for now. send me something in exchange?

A few days later, her favorite hat shows up at his door.

"Crossroads Bar and Grill," he reads out loud with a smile. Sure enough, it smells faintly of her hair and he idly holds it to his nose before he notices something else in the package. He lets the strap out an inch and pops the cap on his own head before pulling out a blue linen pillowcase.

Frankie crushes it to his nose and breathes in the scent of her hair, exhaling with a deep moan.

That night he slips it over one of his extra pillows and sucks in breath with his face buried in it until he comes hard into his fist.

Open-mouthed.

Lungs full of her.

_____

Week nine she’s on a plane back to DC when he texts her a picture with the caption:

PT going well. worked out without pain this afternoon. bruises mostly gone.

The text loads before the picture does, and she smiles because he’s on the mend.

Audrey is not, however, prepared for the image taken in his bathroom mirror. 

He’s turned to the side, brushing his teeth with one hand, elbow picked up to display his ribs, phone held in the other hand angled in towards the mirror. 

It’s a thought captured in the moment that it happened. Meant only to display the faint yellow that’s left on his ribcage, a scant suggestion of the symphony of purple and blue that marked it weeks before.

But Frankie is fresh out of the shower. Naked as the day he was born.

And the bathroom countertop is only so high. 

Frankie, I’m on a plane.

That’s fine. 

I just noticed that it looks a lot better. thought I’d share. Where to?

And she realizes it really was a mistake.

I’m happy to hear and happy you shared! Working out without pain is huge progress.

But half your cock is in this shot, Francisco.

Ah fuck.

I sent that to all the boys.

And Audrey has to keep herself from cackling because surely Big Dick Morales’ phone is blowing up with the kind of shit that only good friends can dish out. 

Shame, I thought it was just for me. 

He sends the wild-faced emoji with its tongue out.

Where you off to? 

Back to DC actually.

Nice to be heading home. text me that you got in safe.

And something warm spreads in her chest. 

She chances another glance at the photo, zooming in first on his ribs, then the curve of biceps that seem more heavily-muscled than she remembers.

She scrolls down the image to the suggestion of abs where he was softer before. Frankie, it seems, has been taking physical therapy seriously and then some.

And she scrolls down a little further to the brush of curls at the base of—

“That your husband?” The older lady to Audrey’s right asks and she immediately clicks her screen off.

“Yep,” she lies because you can never be too sure and she doesn’t need a lecture on the premarital sending of accidentally nude pictures. “Yeah, he fell off his motorbike a few weeks ago. Bruised his ribs, but they’re looking way better now.”

“He’s handsome.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“He makes you smile. Keep him. For now.”

And Audrey laughs with her head thrown back and buys the woman a glass of wine and they fall into easy conversation and the rest of her flight isn’t as dismal as the first half. 

When she steps through the door of her apartment she remembers Frankie's ask.

Made it back home.

Not one minute later, her phone lights up.

A photo from Frankie. Taken just above his hips. The outline of his thick, hard length evident under the rumpled green of his bed sheet, hand closed loosely around the base of it. 

There’s precome smeared on his tanned stomach, catching the light from a bedside lamp.

That one’s just for you.

You sure you didn’t send this to all the boys?

Only you, baby.

This right now?

Ten minutes ago, I’m afraid. fading fast.

I miss you.

I miss you too, Francisco.

_____

Week ten there’s a knock on the door of her hotel room in Trinidad.

And she opens it to big brown eyes peering at her from under the brim of a cap from Crossroads Bar and Grill.

“Audrey,” he smiles.

“Frankie,” she sighs and wraps her arms around his neck as he presses her tight against him.

She feels his ribs expand comfortably as his lungs fill with the scent of her hair. His lips are warm against her neck and she tucks her nose into the tender spot behind his ear.

Feeling the warmth of his skin and the beat of his heart and everything that assures her he’s still alive.

And her skin confirms what her eyes are seeing.

And in some small way.

They each feel a little more whole again.

next

Old chapters are hosted on the OFFS Library page. New chapters will be posted to Ohforficsake - follow me over there for future updates.

Shoot me a message @ohforficsake or comment under this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for updates! Thanks so much for reading.

[quietlyimplode]

the language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: Day 13 - I don’t feel so good

Warnings: nightmares, illness, vomiting

Word Count: 1.6k (gif not mine)

Summary: Clint gets sick after a mission and Natasha learns the importance of having your own space. (First dates)

A/N: Happy Friday dear ones. Well done on making it through the week.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

2009

NEW YORK

Their changing relationship is new and Clint knows they both feel the shift.

Neither willing to say anything.

Fury’s emphasis on partnership had set a punishing pace of nonstop missions and constant surveillance in the first year.

It was effective.

Natasha was used to it.

Clint was not.

The Red Room had never believed in rest, and Clint seemed to revel in it.

She’d often find him asleep on the couch with the window open, and she kept telling him that it wasn’t safe.

He’d laugh, tell her to join him.

She’d become very familiar with the way he worked; and with his apartment; and he’d become more familiar with her trauma and skills sets.

It all had a way of bonding them.

The second year, Fury had sent them on more long term missions, deep cover, and Natasha found when they were apart she missed him.

They come back together like magnets to debrief and talk.

The hours moved quickly, and she wondered if he missed her like she missed him.

It was silly really, she told herself, that there was no way; with all her baggage that he would ever feel the same.

She was glad he was finally home.

Two weeks he’d been in Antigua.

She carefully juggles the donuts and apples in one hand and knocks on the door with the other.

He doesn’t answer and she picks the lock anyway.

“Clint?” she calls, “it’s me.”

She wanders in and finds clothes strewn across the apartment, telltale signs he’s home.

She sets the donuts and apples on the bench and continues to the bedroom.

“You’d better not be naked, again,” she calls out, half covering her eyes as she pushes open the door.

She finds him on the bed, in his boxers asleep.

Natasha walks over to him and touches his shoulder; heat radiating off him.

“Clint?”

She shakes him.

She’s never worried over someone before, not consciously at least, and the new feeling makes waking him feel urgent.

“Clint wake up,” she repeats, urgently.

Eyes peak open and he groans.

“Hey.”

Attempting to get up, he moves slower than usual, and doesn’t seem pleased to see her.

“Your face is warm,” she tells him, “do you have a temperature?”

“Idunno,” he says, groaning again and laying back down.

“Im’k,” he tells her, rolling over.

“Your sick?” she asks redundantly, knowing the answer before he refutes it.

She leaves and gets him some painkillers and water, returning to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

“Clint?”

He looks up, his face sorrowful.

“I don’t feel so good,” he confesses, then promptly vomits on the floor.

He groans.

“Sorry,” he says, looking up with glazed eyes, “sorry.”

Natasha steps around it, pushing him gently back into the bed, and passing him water and the two little pills.

“Take this,” she urges.

He stares at her for a minute before following her instructions, then leaning back he apologises again.

Natasha goes to bathroom to find cleaning supplies, and returns to clean the vomit.

“Mmmsorry,” he mumbles, “please.”

He raises her head to find him staring again, and she assures him gently.

“Go to sleep, Clint,” she whispers.

“Be here?” he asks, tiredly.

“Yeah,” she assures him, “I’ll be here.”

.

Clint talks in his sleep, things she’s sure he wouldn’t want her knowing.

He calls out for his mother, and she sits by him, drawing circles on his hand and telling him stories that she knows to calm him down.

The fever spikes and drops and she sits with him through it.

Fury calls through with a mission for her and for the first time, she asks if she can stay grounded.

She tells him that Clint isn’t well and she needs to stay.

Fury hadn’t said much but his distain was clear.

He told her, she had a week, and sent through the mission packet regardless.

She hears Clint get up, move to the bathroom.

Dutifully, she follows and knocks on the door asking if he’s okay.

“Nat? You’re still here?”

His voice sounds pathetic and she tells him she’ll warm up some food. He calls out thanks and she leaves him be.

She sucks at this.

Natasha knows Clint just seems to know how to make her feel better, but she has no context, only what she’s looked up. She knows to track the painkillers, make sure he eats and drinks, and sleeps.

She thinks maybe, he might be feeling better, the last two days passing quickly.

Smiling as he enters, he greets her with a tiny wave.

Natasha offers him food, but he beelines for the coffee.

Holding up the cup, he grins.

“Make sure you eat something with that,” she smiles back, glad to see him acting more like himself.

Clint steps forward.

“Thanks,” he says, offering her the coffee.

“You know, for taking care of me.”

Natasha ignores the acknowledgment.

“Are you feeling better?” she asks.

Clint shrugs.

“Better enough I think,” he nods taking another sip.

The silence is comfortable, as they both move around the kitchen. The morning passes slow, with Natasha pushing Clint to the couch to rest.

She watches as he dozes then allows herself to do the same.

.

The forth night of staying with him is the longest she’s ever lived with someone in a setting that’s not contrived.

It’s the most comfortable she thinks she’s ever been. This apartment, this small place of a friend’s home, is perfect in all the ways she would think a home would be.

It makes her want to live somewhere other than the base. To have a place of her own.

She thinks Clint knows she’s not ready to leave, because he doesn’t say anything, and tells her to stay with him; that’s he’s still not 100% and needs some help.

The night has been kind and they’ve made it through another movie in his DVD collection that he swears everyone should watch. Movies like The Princess Diary and Miss Congeniality are at the top of the list and though she makes fun of it, she knows they for her.

She smiles, a spontaneous moment that Clint notices, and offers a smile on return.

If only her 15 year old self could see her now.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks after a moment.

“Do you think they’d let me get an apartment?” she asks, “away from the base?”

Clint looks slightly off, and she thinks she did something wrong.

It’s a moment before he nods and smiles back.

“Yeah! Of course, yeah!” his enthusiasm is infective.

“Would you want to live somewhere near here? There’s an apartment nearby? I could ask? It’s not big but it’s like in the apartment block over!? Nat, you could learn to cook like you wanted! Not that you couldn’t before, but it’s easier when it’s your own place,” he rambles.

“You could get stuff? Do you know how good stuff is? A cool rock, your favourite hair conditioner, oh! A favourite mug! Not that you couldn’t before, but like it’s different in your own space.”

She smiles, slightly overwhelmed.

Natasha sits with her hands around her glass, and nods.

“I’ll help you, okay? We can work it out, together,” he assures.

“Yeah,” she says, sipping her drink, “I’d like that.”

.

He knocks on her door, flowers and food in hand.

Moving from foot to foot, Clint knocks again impatiently, and waits.

It’s slow but finally she opens the door.

She looks worse for wear than he’s ever seen her.

Dark circles under her eyes, pale face and a slight sheen of sweat on her face.

“Oh Nat,” he says, sympathetically.

He still thinks back to the time, months ago, when she took care of him.

“How long have you been feeling like shit for?”

She shrugs.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He pushes his way inside.

“It’s okay, I am feeling better, tell Fury I’ll be back on Monday,” she sighs.

He laughs.

“I’ll do no such thing.”

He looks her over again.

“Go to bed,” he says softly, “I’ll make us something to eat.”

Natasha must really not be feeling well, as she pads slowly back to bed, and climbs in without argument.

Later, he finds her in the midst of a nightmare, sweat drenched and hand in mouth to stop the screams and tears.

Clint’s heart breaks.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, like soothing a small child, “everything will be okay.”

She looks up, eyes unseeing.

“I don’t feel so good,” she whispers, “they’ll kill me if they know.”

His heat drops.

“Who’s going to kill you? Hmm? Here in your own apartment?”

It seems to orient her, so he continues.

“No one can touch you here, not with the bullet proof glass, or the soft blankets that surround you. No one would find you here, with your name changed to Natalie. You’re safe and I’ll help protect you, even though you don’t need it.”

She closes her eyes and tucks herself in next to him.

“Mmmsorry,” she whispers.

.

Their first date is a non event, and although both of them acknowledge that it was their first date, it’s more because it’s the first time they kiss.

Popcorn and a movie on Clint’s couch, with Natasha dressed in his clothes and Clint in his oldest hoodie.

Anything else, they agreed, would be contrived.

All day they play someone else, dressed up and faking happiness.

In their apartments the masks drop.

It seems right that the first time and the first date is perfectly in a place they feel the most safe.

He promises though, that he’ll take her to all his favourite places, and kiss her there as well.

.

[toxicsquad]

We're back for another Saturday!

We still have a chapter of the angels to remember… But very soon we will be able to bring you news of the next chapter. Do we have any players from the demon route around here? 👀

But in the meantime, we continue to learn about Hasiel. Like Arael, it seems that the angel is not comfortable with bringing his relationship with the MC into the open…. And since we've mentioned demons, it's safe to say that his former relationship with Zihel has a lot to do with Hasiel's problems.

You don't send all your exes straight to hell… Literally.

Patreon | Twitter​ | Instagram​ | Itch  | Jolt Game | Discord | TikTok

🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧

¡Hemos vuelto otro sábado más!

Aún nos queda capítulo de los ángeles que rememorar... Pero muy pronto os podremos traer noticias del siguiente capítulo. ¿Tenemos a algún jugador de la ruta de los demonios por aquí? 👀

Pero mientras, seguimos aprendiendo cosas sobre Hasiel. Al igual que Arael, parece que el ángel no se siente cómodo con sacar a la luz su relación con el MC... Y ya que hemos mentado a los demonios, podemos decir con seguridad que su antigua relación con Zihel tiene mucho que ver en los problemas de Hasiel.

No a todos tus exs los mandas directos al infierno... Literalmente.

Patreon | Twitter​ | Instagram​ | Itch  | Jolt Game | Discord | TikTok

[bullet-prooflove]

Survivors - Will Halstead x Reader

Trigger Warning: Mentions of sexual assault

Will struggles to deal with the aftermath of you being assaulted and left for dead. 

Part Two: Where You Go, I Go

There were fairy lights in the trees outside the hospital. They lit up the outside area of the hospital beautifully against the dark night sky. He knew you loved sitting out here, drinking coffee on the memorial bench underneath them. The breeze was chilly, causing goosebumps to erupt all over his bare arms as he sat there and put his head in his hands, his fingers raking through his thick red curls.

He was finding it hard to control all the emotions that were wrestling inside him. He wanted to be out there, finding the bastard who'd left you breathless and bleeding, he wanted to tear the piece of scum to pieces with his bare hands and toss him into the sea. There were a million different torturous things he imaged doing to the piece of shit that had left you barely hanging on.

On the other hand, he didn't want to leave you alone here at the hospital. He didn't want you to wake up frightened, thinking that he didn't love you. He needed to be there when you woke up so that you would understand that you were safe.

He didn't know what to do, with your father was in Antigua all the important decisions were left in his hands and he found that he didn't want to make them. He had had to give permission for the Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner to administer the rape kit because he was listed as your next of kin. He despised the idea of violating you all over again but he understood the necessity. The evidence degraded the longer they waited. He had held your hand tightly in his own as the nurse had gently gone through the procedure. You shouldn't have to endure something like that alone. He was thankful you had been unconscious.

The bench vibrated as someone took the seat alongside him. He glanced up surprised to see Maggie sitting there, her palms pressed between her knees. Maggie handed him the steaming cup of coffee wordlessly. Will wrapped his hands around it grateful. He had no idea how long the two of them sat there in silence before Maggie broke it.

"She will wake up you know. She's strong and fierce. She will fight this."

Will stared into the contents of his coffee cup. He couldn't believe that today had happened. He knew better than most people how life could change in such a short space of time, but it was still terrifying. He kept thinking back to last night on the beach, your words haunted him as they sat there underneath the stars.

"I didn't believe her when she said she thought someone had been in the apartment. I told her she was acting like a silly little girl." Will admitted abruptly, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand.

"You couldn't know that it was true." Maggie said honestly. "You can't keep blaming yourself for everything that happens, the guilt will eat you up inside and frankly she doesn't need that right now. She needs you to be there and be strong..." Maggie trailed off, rubbing her hands together agitated as she bowed her head forward. "She'll need someone to lean on, stuff like this. She won't be able to do it on her own."

"Maggie. I will do whatever I can to get her through this, I just don't know how. How do you move on from something like this? How do you deal with it?" Will gestured with his coffee cup before shaking his head. "I don't know how I can help, short of putting the bastard who did this in the ground all I can do is be there for her."

"I'll help." Maggie said, reaching out and taking Will's hand lightly in hers.

Will curled his fingers around hers and squeezed tightly.

"I can't lose her." Will said, his voice trembling just a little.

"She will get through this Will." she said softly as the two of them rose to their feet. "You both will."

"We're survivors." Will agreed, draining the rest of his coffee and tossing the empty cup at the bin alongside the bench. "Surviving is what we do best."

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[yaellaharpe-blog]

The oldest road in Europe is located on the island of Crete and is a remarkable engineering masterpiece from over 3,500 years ago. This Minoan road stretches for about 50 kilometres, connecting the ancient city of Knossos with Gortina and Lebena. What makes this road extraordinary is its advanced construction. It has lateral canals to manage water runoff, which helped to preserve it for millennia. The road bed consists of a floor of 20-centimetre thick sandstone blocks, tightly interlocked and bound with a strong mortar of clay and gypsum. Above this foundation, a layer of basalt slabs was laid to provide a smooth and resistant surface. The inclusion of separate shoulders, a rare feature at the time, demonstrates a sophisticated understanding of road design, ensuring safe and efficient travel.

(English / Español / Italiano)

La carretera más antigua de Europa se encuentra en la isla de Creta y es una notable obra maestra de ingeniería de hace más de 3.500 años. Esta calzada minoica se extiende a lo largo de unos 50 kilómetros y conecta la antigua ciudad de Cnosos con Gortina y Lebena. Lo que hace extraordinaria a esta calzada es su avanzada construcción. Cuenta con canales laterales para gestionar la escorrentía del agua, lo que ayudó a preservarla durante milenios. El lecho de la calzada consiste en un suelo de bloques de arenisca de 20 centímetros de grosor, fuertemente entrelazados y unidos con un fuerte mortero de arcilla y yeso. Sobre esta base se colocó una capa de losas de basalto para proporcionar una superficie lisa y resistente. La inclusión de arcenes separados, una característica poco común en la época, demuestra una sofisticada comprensión del diseño de carreteras, garantizando un viaje seguro y eficiente.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

La strada più antica d'Europa si trova sull'isola di Creta ed è un notevole capolavoro ingegneristico di oltre 3.500 anni fa. Questa strada minoica si estende per circa 50 chilometri, collegando l'antica città di Cnosso con Gortina e Lebena. Ciò che rende questa strada straordinaria è la sua avanzata costruzione. Presenta canali laterali per gestire il deflusso dell'acqua, il che ha contribuito a preservarla per millenni. Il letto stradale è composto da un pavimento di blocchi di arenaria di 20 centimetri di spessore, strettamente incastrati e legati con un resistente malta di argilla e gesso. Sopra questa fondazione, fu posato uno strato di lastre di basalto per fornire una superficie liscia e resistente. L'inclusione di spalle separate, una caratteristica rara per l'epoca, dimostra una comprensione sofisticata del design stradale, garantendo viaggi sicuri ed efficienti.

[hellfireconfessions]

I was a member of HellFire a few years back. Here’s my experience with them! Wolftahs. Enough said in THAT regard lmao. When I was playing on Sucho with a mate, we were hunted by 4 utahs which according to their own fear list, shouldn’t have been allowed. So we end up killing one and they back off then run back and start eating from our body lmao, we 3 call them off and they contest, one of them ends up tailriding my partner and gets waffle stomped by me after about 7 bites. We made a report and thought nothing of it! Well gues what two fucks claimed the report. The Utahs that broke fear rules and tailrode were staff. They claimed the ticket and were very confrontational about it, when we asked for a different staff member to deal with this ticket, like a robot they both said “No, you can have us” I forget their names as it was a while ago. We had video evidence, not just replays from both me and my partners POV, guess what! We got a moderation and a strike for “accepting a contest at 3rd screen” and for “attempting to undermine staff members” and the staff members quickly closed the ticket after that. When I went to talk to upper staff about it, Polar told me they would look into it and then blocked me after the fact. Now let’s talk about DemonTheDead. They are not 14. They are 25, 26 now most likely. I’m in an amazing server called Isla Antigua (shameless plug cough) and we had to make a whole ass rule because of Demon. They wanted a furry Carno (this is on Evrima by the way) now I myself have no problems with that when I first heard it, then they said they wanted it to have fur…and quills. Yeah, then we had to make a rule that your mutations need a scientific name, and no fanon mutations like leopard mutations. Now what they’ve done to me. They refused to believe my actual age was 19 and thought I was 14-15 why were you, a 25 year old, ok with being friends and make weird comments to what you thought was a 14 year old? No clue. They eventually got banned on Isla Antigua for soliciting minors not only from Hellfire, but from Antigua. It was a well known player who they chose to harass. Demon, if you stalk this thread, please understand that you are one of the lowest of the low. You will never find redemption from anyone who knows you. And I hope you realize you will never be in a safe server again so long as anyone you used to know is there. Anyway here’s the invite to Isla Antigua!! https://discord.gg/islaantigua

[anumetservice]

Is the Hurricane Season Over?

By Dale C. S. Destin – Published 8 November 2023| Is the hurricane season over for Antigua and the rest of the Eastern Caribbean? The hurricane season runs until November 30. However, since Hurricane Tammy exited the area about 15 days ago, no disturbances have formed between Africa and the Caribbean, the place where we normally get tropical cyclones. Is safe to say that it’s a rap on the…

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

#10yrsago What the ban on unlocking phones means (worse than you think) https://www.eff.org/is-it-illegal-to-unlock-a-phone

#10yrsago WTO gives Antigua the right to sell pirated American copyrighted goods https://torrentfreak.com/antiguas-legal-pirate-site-authorized-by-the-world-trade-organization-130128/

#10yrsago American insurers charge reckless rich drivers less than safe poor drivers https://consumerfed.org/pdfs/PR.AutoInsurancePremiums1.28.13.pdf

#5yrsago What Ken Thompson’s seminal (terrifying!) “On Trusting Trust” tells us about the Spectre and Meltdown bugs https://community.cadence.com/cadence_blogs_8/b/breakfast-bytes/posts/why-you-shouldn-t-trust-ken-thompson

#5yrsago Analysis of North America’s weeds reveal the crops, trade, and cuisine of early indigenous people https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0278416517301447

#5yrsago Fitness app releases data-set that reveals the location of sensitive military bases, patrol routes, aircrew flightpaths, and individual soldiers’ jogging routes https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/jan/28/fitness-tracking-app-gives-away-location-of-secret-us-army-bases

#5yrsago Apple’s long-awaited podcast data-transparency reveals an ad-listening audience with no clear format-preferences https://www.wired.com/story/apple-podcast-analytics-first-month/

#5yrsago Property developer caught using critic’s photo in promotional materials, demands an end to criticism as a condition of paying for the use https://spitalfieldslife.com/2018/01/29/a-reply-from-crest-nicholson/

#1yrago The Right to Repair: A stupendous new book on a very urgent subject https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/29/planned-obsolescence/#r2r

#1yrago No, payday lenders aren’t nice guys https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/29/planned-obsolescence/#academic-fraud

[aworldinfocus]

Safe Place for Siesta A woman takes a siesta on the steps of Iglesia y Convento de Nuestra Señora de la Merced. #antigua #guatemala #church #nap #siesta #traditionaldress #travel #travelphotography #travelphotographer https://www.instagram.com/p/CkROySEvpzh/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[chaletnz]

An Evening in Guatemala City

I was roped in for a taxi booking but he spoke English well and I wanted to be clear about where I was going so it was worth being ripped off. I asked to be driven to Zone 1 which would’ve been Q80 or $12 - the same price as if I’d gone to Antigua which is about an hour away! At least in local currency it was cheaper than using dollars. I asked if this area was safe and he told me not really, there are a lot of people on drugs. He said I would be a target because I'm very white and have a big backpack so he told me to avoid it. We agreed then that he’d just take me to Zone 4 from the get go and I’d not see the old city for this trip, being that it was too unsafe to walk there alone late in the afternoon with a big backpack. I didn’t want to be a statistic so I figured I’d just walk around in Zone 4 for a few hours, get some food and get my ride to Antigua later. When I was dropped off the rain had stopped and it all looked safe, the streets had lots of hip cafes and restaurants, and street art. It had vibes of Berlin, Tel Aviv or Porto and definitely not what I expected from this “hotspot of violent crime”. You could’ve told me this was a suburb of Tokyo and I would’ve believed it because the streets were so clean. Maybe it was because of the rain, or being a Monday but there were hardly any people around outside so I felt safe, although I gave people a wide berth just in case. A Japanese influenced place caught my eye and I saw a menu with Nutella taiyakis on it! Obviously I had to get one since they’re pretty hard to come by outside of Japan… I asked for one and paid Q30 but got a plate of three. Sickly sweet, and one would’ve been plenty but I had to eat the lot since I didn’t want to waste them! As I was eating I had a guy wheel up his trolley of phone accessories and try to sell me something, another came up and tried to have me buy a rose. Oldest trick in the book! I sat down for a really good flat white way past my coffee curfew of 2pm at Rojo Cerezo. It was worth it, to have such a good coffee for Q20 in Guatemala where the beans were probably grown within 30km of here. I decided to go with Mr Taco for dinner, it was Q30 for 3 tacos which I thought was reasonable. I managed to order properly in Spanish too, she told me they didn’t have any chicken so I went with beef instead. They came out on corn tortillas and the lady told me to try the toppings from the bar, I went with salsa verde, salsa roja and piña as my toppings. The pineapple was the best but all were good considering how cheap, quick, and filling it was. I’m going to be a big fan of tacos going forward! Phone supply guy came in and was flogging off cases left and right, some of the other patrons actually bought cases - unbelievable! It felt staged. Before I left to go to the fancy Conquistador Hotel for my shuttle to collect me I had to try the baño here. It seems like Guatemalans call them sanitorios instead and this one was a treat. With my bag on I could barely squeeze inside and when I did, the latch was just a chain like on a hotel room door to hold it closed. This bathroom had definitely been built by some average joes! I was waiting for my shuttle inside the hotel but there must’ve been some confusion because I was not a guest there and the driver didn’t come inside looking for me. I moved outside to draw attention to myself and lucky I had because a driver called me over and said he’d been waiting a long time for me, once I was on wifi again I also saw that they’d emailed me saying the driver will not wait. I sent them a bit of a heated email back since the guy hadn’t even bothered to come inside the hotel to look for me and would’ve just left me stranded in Guatemala City… but I arrived in Antigua after a crazy ride with the driver going way too fast and passing literally everyone else on the road. He sped through the cobblestones in Antigua and it was so bumpy I felt like we were off roading in the van but he dropped me off right at my door and I could check in with a very smiley man to rest before my early pick up the morning.

[clipartghosts]

CASH.BMF: A stack of U.S. $100 bills. @dogebromomo found it in a small safe his recently departed mother kept in her bedroom closet. @dogebromomo is dumbfounded. He literally has no idea what to do with the cash. Literally. How do you get cash into Venmo? Can you make an NFT of cash? How do you keep track of cash on the blockchain? His mom may be departed (to Antigua and Barbuda), but he feels almost embarrassed, as if he had stumbled upon a box of her feminine hygiene products, something @dogebromomo has read about but never actually seen.

[ccscaribbean3]

Unlock the Power of a Second Passport: Citizenship by Investment Revealed

Have you ever considered obtaining a second passport through investment? In

today's rapidly changing world, having the flexibility and security of dual

citizenship can be a game-changer. Let me introduce you to the powerful concept

of Citizenship by Investment (CBI).

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haven in times of uncertainty.

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its own set of requirements and benefits. Whether you prefer a real estateinvestment, a government contribution, or a business venture, there are flexible

solutions to suit your needs and goals.

Invest in a Second Citizenship: Reasons & Advantages

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Don't miss out on the transformative power of a second passport. Explore the

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citizenship through investment.

[buckiegotit]

TROPICAL CYCLONE INFORMATION STATEMENT ANTIGUA AND BARBUDA METEOROLOGICAL SERVICE 2:35 PM ECT SUNDAY JUN 30 2024

Published 30 June 2024 Buckie Got It, St. Kitts and Nevis News Source TROPICAL CYCLONE INFORMATION STATEMENT ANTIGUA AND BARBUDA METEOROLOGICAL SERVICE 2:35 PM ECT SUNDAY JUN 30 2024 ….MAJOR HURRICANE BERYL KEEPING AWAY FROM THE AREA… THE ANTIGUA AND BARBUDA METEOROLOGICAL SERVICE CONTINUES TO FOLLOW THE PROGRESS OF MAJOR HURRICANE BERYL. THE SYSTEM IS EXPECTED TO PASS A SAFE DISTANCE AWAY…

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The Long-term Benefits of Citizenship by Investment Programs

Citizenship by investment programs offers numerous enduring benefits that extend beyond the individual to their family and future generations. These programs provide a unique opportunity for individuals to secure a second passport, offering multi-generational advantages, enhanced quality of life, and the ability to pass on citizenship.

Multi-Generational Advantages

One of the most significant long-term benefits of citizenship by investment programs is securing a better future for your descendants. By obtaining a second passport through investment in Lebanon, families can ensure their children and grandchildren have access to superior education, healthcare, and lifestyle opportunities. This generational security is invaluable in an increasingly interconnected and globalized world.

Improved Quality of Life

Acquiring a Malta passport for Lebanese citizens can drastically improve the quality of life. With visa-free travel to numerous countries, access to high-quality healthcare, and a stable political environment, Maltese citizenship opens doors to a world of opportunities. Additionally, living in a safe and prosperous country enhances overall well-being, providing a secure environment for raising a family and growing professionally.

Economic and Business Opportunities

Citizenship by investment programs also offers substantial economic and business advantages. For instance, Antigua and Barbuda citizenship by investment allows individuals to tap into new markets and business opportunities. The strategic location and favorable business climate of Antigua and Barbuda provide a solid foundation for entrepreneurs looking to expand their operations globally. This economic flexibility is crucial for adapting to the ever-changing global market dynamics.

The Ability to Pass on Citizenship

One of the most enduring benefits of these programs is the ability to pass on citizenship to future generations. This ensures that the advantages of a second citizenship are not limited to the immediate family but extend to children and grandchildren. This multi-generational benefit is a powerful legacy, providing long-term security and opportunities for family members in an increasingly uncertain world.

Conclusion

Citizenship by investment programs offers a wealth of long-term benefits that can transform lives for generations. From securing a better future for your descendants to improving the quality of life and expanding economic opportunities, these programs provide a valuable investment in your family's future. Whether through a second passport investment in Lebanon, acquiring a Malta passport for Lebanese citizens, or securing Antigua and Barbuda citizenship by investment, the enduring benefits are clear and compelling. Investing in citizenship is not just about immediate gains; it's about building a legacy of security, opportunity, and prosperity for future generations.

[childofcha0s]

⠀⠀⠀trying⠀to⠀get⠀on⠀my⠀nerves⠀is⠀not⠀a⠀safe⠀move , ⠀unless⠀you⠀want⠀to⠀suffer

𝕳𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

⠀

⠀⠀la casa blackwood es una de las más grandes y antiguas familias de magos y brujas de sangre pura de gran bretaña, y muchas otras familias de magos están emparentadas, aunque sea lejanamente, con ella. el árbol genealógico de los black se puede encontrar en la sala de estar del número 12 de grimmauld place en londres, inglaterra, en un intrincado tapiz que narra su linaje desde la edad media hasta el presente.

la familia blackwood traza sus orígenes hasta la edad media. ellos afirman tener una ascendencia completamente mágica, aunque para el siglo xx no existía ninguna familia de sangre pura en su totalidad. las familias de sangre pura, como los blackwood, simplemente eliminaban de manera literal con asesinatos "accidentales" a los muggles y squibs de sus árboles genealógicos para mantener esta ilusión y hasta el día de hoy es un secreto familiar. los black le dan una gran importancia a la pureza de sangre, considerándose a sí mismos como la realeza del mundo mágico y desdeñando a los muggles y a los hijos de muggles. esta actitud los llevó incluso a apoyar un proyecto social que buscaba hacer legal la caza de muggles. el lema de la familia, que se puede ver en su escudo, es toujours pur, que significa "siempre puro" en francés.

debido a sus opiniones extremistas, muchos miembros de la familia blackwood practican a puertas cerradas las artes oscuras. algunos de ellos se convirtieron en extremistas públicos, como hugo blackwood y kathryn blackwood, mientras que otros, aunque no se declararon públicamente en contra de los muggles y mestizos, comparten la creencia en la "purificación" del mundo mágico. sin embargo, algunos miembros de la familia no están de acuerdo con estas opiniones. azalea dots, un miembro distante de la familia blackwood, fue asesinada por kathryn blackwood, prima de hugo y tía de azalea, en una disputa familiar debido a sus diferencias ideológicas.

por otro lado, el hermano de hugo, wayne blackwood, contrajo matrimonio con electra ferlet, siendo el primero de su generación en tener hijos. electra, que adoptó el apellido blackwood tras el matrimonio, dio a luz a zacharías apollo y a zoey artemis, dos gemelos que en un futuro no muy distante asistirán a aetherium, como lo hicieron sus padres, tíos, abuelos y bisabuelos antes que ellos. circulan varios turbulentos rumores como si realmente son puristas o es solo prejuicios exteriores por algunos miembros lejanos, que su árbol familiar no es tan puro como parece y matan a los que no sean parte del puro linaje, un supuesto amplio historial de brujería oscura y que la pasión de wayne y electra por la pureza de sangre los llevó a torturar a muggles inocentes junto a kathryn y el resto de la familia purista, al estilo de bonnie y clyde. esta reputación aterradora recaería sobre los gemelos, implicando una posible futura sed de poder durante su adolescencia.

zoey es la mayor de los gemelos, por diez minutos, un tormento con apariencia de ángel. le fascina el quidditch y sueña con algún día ser bateadora de los falmouth falcons. ella es de los blackwood que no esconde su posición respecto a la importancia de la pureza de la sangre, despreciando a los nacidos bajo hogares muggles.