#Property Investment in Gift City

[giftcityproperty23]

Smart Investments: GIFT City’s Booming Commercial Real Estate Market

Gujarat International Finance Tec-City, or GIFT City, is rapidly transforming into a dynamic global business hub. Strategically located between Ahmedabad and Gandhinagar, GIFT City offers world-class infrastructure, advanced technology, and a unique regulatory framework, making it an attractive destination for commercial investments. If you are considering commercial property in gift city, you’re looking at immense opportunities that go beyond traditional commercial real estate.

Why Invest in Commercial Property in GIFT City?

GIFT City stands out from other financial and business hubs in India for several reasons:

International Business Hub: GIFT City is India's first smart city with an International Financial Services Centre (IFSC). It attracts global players in banking, insurance, and capital markets, making it a key location for financial and commercial activities.

Tax Benefits: The special economic zone (SEZ) and IFSC status of GIFT City bring lucrative tax incentives for businesses operating there. Companies within the IFSC are eligible for tax exemptions on capital gains, dividend distribution, and other transactions, creating an appealing environment for international investors and businesses.

State-of-the-Art Infrastructure: GIFT City boasts cutting-edge infrastructure, including high-speed internet, automated waste collection systems, and integrated transportation facilities. The city is designed with sustainability in mind, featuring green buildings and efficient energy usage, which adds value to the commercial property market.

Ease of Doing Business: One of the city’s key strengths is its simplified regulatory framework. GIFT City operates under a different set of rules than other cities in India, offering a smoother business process, especially for international financial institutions.

Growth Potential: GIFT City is still developing, which means there is enormous growth potential. Early investors in commercial properties are likely to reap significant long-term benefits as the city expands and attracts more multinational corporations, banks, and fintech companies.

Commercial Property Opportunities in GIFT City

GIFT City Property offers a wide array of commercial real estate options tailored to different business needs. Whether you’re looking for office spaces, retail outlets, or mixed-use developments, there’s something for every type of business. Here are some top options available:

Premium Office Spaces: These are ideal for corporate headquarters, startups, and financial institutions looking to establish a presence in the city. Premium office spaces in GIFT City come equipped with modern facilities, smart building features, and connectivity to key commercial zones.

Retail Spaces: As the city grows, so does the demand for retail spaces. Retailers can capitalize on the growing population of working professionals and residents, making GIFT City a promising location for malls, restaurants, and boutique stores.

Co-working Spaces: GIFT City is also home to some of the most innovative co-working spaces designed to cater to freelancers, startups, and small businesses. These shared spaces provide flexibility at lower costs, helping businesses scale as they grow.

Technology Parks: GIFT City is a hotspot for fintech companies, IT firms, and data centers. Investing in commercial property in the city’s tech park zone offers a promising future, as tech-driven companies continue to expand their footprint in the area.

Why Choose GIFT City Property?

GIFT City Property is dedicated to helping investors and businesses find the perfect commercial property for sale in gift city. With an in-depth understanding of the local market and regulatory landscape, GIFT City Property provides seamless services from property selection to legal assistance and post-purchase management.

Here are a few reasons why GIFT City Property is the right partner for your investment journey:

Extensive Portfolio: GIFT City Property offers an extensive range of commercial properties across different sectors, ensuring you find the right fit for your business.

Expert Guidance: The team at GIFT City Property has deep knowledge of local regulations and the unique tax benefits available to businesses in GIFT City. This expertise ensures a smooth transaction and helps maximize your returns.

Future-Focused: GIFT City is designed with future growth in mind, and GIFT City Property helps you invest with a long-term perspective. They assist in identifying properties that offer high appreciation potential as the city continues to evolve.

Conclusion

Commercial property in GIFT City offers a unique blend of futuristic infrastructure, tax benefits, and strategic location that positions businesses for success on the global stage. With the support of GIFT City Property, investors can navigate this promising market with confidence, securing commercial spaces that deliver high returns and future growth.

Now is the time to explore the vast opportunities awaiting you in GIFT City.

[regaliagiftcity]

Is investing in Gift City beneficial?

GIFT City India is a crucial pillar on par with other international financial and IT hubs. Read this blog to know why investing in Gift City will be beneficial.

[res-management]

Gujarat's decision to exempt GIFT City from liquor prohibitions marks a pivotal shift with multifaceted impacts. If you are looking for expert guidance to guide you through your GIFT City property investment procedure, RES Management is the one you need.

[coldwellbankergujarat]

Wishing you all a year filled with joy, growth, and countless achievements. May each day bring new opportunities and inspire everyone to reach greater heights. Happy New Year. Coldwell Banker Gujarat Real Estate Consultant 9512370010 www.coldwellbankergujarat.in

[604to647]

Mi Galleta (Part 3 - Salted Caramel)

4.5K / Modern AU Grumpy Bouncer!Pero Tovar x Sunshine-Rich Girl!reader

Summary: Dating Pero feels like a dream, until you overhear something that makes you question everything.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please), dating Biker!Pero needs a warning (check out the ✨vibes✨), allusions to smut (reference to oral, unprotected PiV, aftercare, fingering, semi-public sex), dirty thoughts, the bike helmet stays on 🤷🏻‍♀️, pet names (Cookie, princesa, hermosa, etc.), misogynistic, classist and degrading language used to talk about women (not by Pero, but... you'll see).

A/N: A friend of mine once told me that the restaurant business can be super misogynistic and I was actually shocked to hear some of her stories 😣 For our story, Lin isn't one of those types of establishments, but sometimes, bad eggs make their way into a good carton.

Series Masterlist

You wake up the next morning naked and snuggled into Pero’s side, your arm draped over his broad chest.  Trying not to wake him as you carefully climb out of bed, you look back and admire Pero’s peaceful face, much soften with sleep and framed by hair messy and tossed from the previous night’s activities.  Gosh, he’s so handsome.  Even the scar over his left eye is becoming one of your favourite features; a fearsome token of some past violence that belies the softness of the gentle giant who bears it.  You wonder if he’ll ever tell you where it’s from.  Throwing on a camisole sleep set and robe, you pad out to the kitchen and leave your snoring Adonis to his rest. 

Grinning to yourself lazily as you make coffee, your mind drifts back to events of last night.  Of the multiple orgasms Pero pulled from you with his skilled mouth, hands, and cock.  Of the heaviness of his balls on your tongue and how sweet and salty he tasted as you worked his length down your throat.  God the things that man said in bed: calling you a goddess one minute, then his dirty fuck doll the next, all while you bounced cock drunk on his lap.  His eyes, however, never expressed anything but devotion and wonder, grounding you even as he made you shudder and convulse in pleasure.  Humming contently while cooking eggs, you’re pulled from your daydream state only when a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and patchy scruff tickles into your neck where Pero whispers, “Good morning, Cookie.”

Turning in his arms, you immediately lose yourself to the searing kiss Pero lays on you.  He had missed you the moment he woke up and found himself alone.

After Pero accepts your invitation stay for breakfast, he sips on his coffee and takes in your apartment; you’ve decorated for a clean and classic aesthetic, it’s not overly opulent but there are obvious touches of luxury and understated elegance that trim the furniture and personal items that litter the grand space.  You catch him admiring the breathtaking panoramic view of the city through the window wall running down the length of your apartment, “Really nice place you have here.”  He doesn’t miss your slight wince at his compliment; blink-and-you-miss-it, but he catches it before you smile, almost apologetically, “Thanks.  It used to be an investment property of my parents’.  They gifted it to me when I started work in the city to help me out.  Or to claim the tax deduction.”  You make the joke, not sure why you think you should feel embarrassed?  Because normally, you’re not.  You love your place and you’re so grateful to your parents, but you don’t want Pero to think you’re some type of… freeloader?  You're not even sure where you head is at with this.

Sensing your discomfort, Pero sweeps you into his arms; kissing you gently, he explains, “I just meant, this place is beautiful and I can tell you’ve poured yourself into making it a home.  It’s calm.  And welcoming.  I see you everywhere here.”

Your chest swells with emotion and a little embarrassment at how quickly you had gone on the defensive; Pero’s been nothing but kind and sweet.  Face still buried in his shoulder, you nuzzle in even closer to envelope yourself in his warmth and whisper, “Thank you.  It’s my favourite place in the world.”

Over a delicious breakfast, Pero asks you what your plans are for the day and you tell him all about the famers’ market you like to visit on the weekends.  When asked if he wants to join you, Pero looks thoughtful, “I’d love to, Cookie.  But I have to work at 3:00 today… and I had planned on making you come a few more times before that.”

Giggling at his shit-eating grin, you cross to the other side of the table where Pero is sitting and climb into his lap, “How do you plan on doing that?”

“Over you, under you.  On every surface of this gorgeous apartment, Cookie.  Gonna give you a couple more reasons for it to be your favourite place,” nudging your nose with his a few times, Pero urges you to open your mouth and let him in.  His kisses are unhurried, long and sweet; sated with good food and the promise of unfettered access to your body, Pero feels no reason to rush.  Fingers finding the knot of your robe, he works it loose with his nimble fingers and opens the garment to reveal the soft satin number underneath, “My my, what do we have here, princesa?”  Pero licks his lips and his eyes darken as he takes in the way you shiver and your nipples perk up and tent the delicate fabric when he slides the robe off your shoulders.

You never make it to the farmer’s market.

Dating Pero is like something out of a movie.  Most nights you enjoy decadent, late dinners with Pero after he gets off work; he takes you to some of the city’s most celebrated and exclusive restaurants, always entering through some hidden staff entrance and eating in private rooms or employee access only areas.  Whenever you ask about paying, Pero waves you off and say there’s a restaurant staff quid-pro-quo arrangement with Lin.  You’ve never heard of any type of restaurant industry secret community, but you suppose it’s possible.  Either way, the food is always impeccable and the company is dreamy.

Being a biker’s backpack is one of the most unexpected, yet fun things you’ve ever experienced; you love riding with Pero.  Some nights, he’ll take you for casual, aimless rides in the city, just weaving through the busy streets; the city lights always seem to be brighter and even beautiful when whipping by in streaks.  Other times Pero will pick a farther destination under the guise of trying a bakery or some local delicacy, taking you out on the open road for longer rides.  You think you like these rides more; when you’re alone on a highway or side road, you’ll egg Pero to go faster and he will just to amuse you, loving when you squeal from excitement and hug him tighter. 

Pero loves taking you out on his bike, too; he loves the weight of you against his back and the feel of your hands wrapped around him and the way they press up against his stomach, and, if he plays his cards right, grip and rub his thigh. When he lowers his speed, he’ll hold one of your hands in his glove, loving the way your slender fingers intertwine with the leather.  He should buy you gloves, he thinks.  He does buy you a helmet. 

Surprising you one day after work, Pero, looking like a dreamboat, turns heads in his sleek dress clothes topped with his motorcycle jacket as he leans against his parked bike.  Crying out in delight when you see him curbside in front of your office building, you practically leap in his arms before slotting your lips over his in a hungry kiss.  Not caring if your co-workers see, you open your mouth to Pero’s and let him lick into your mouth slowly and sensually; he cradles your head in one of his big hands, the other pressing you flushed to his broad frame.  Pero on the other hand wants your co-workers to see (and maybe even hear) as he worships your soft, supple lips with his own, his hands working their way lower on your body until they’re both full of the plush globes of your ass.  Mine, he brags, as he massages and gropes, turning you into putty under his touch. 

“What are you doing here, Pero?” you exclaim happily, thrilled by the surprise.

“Took the day off today, Cookie.  Thought I’d come grab ya, surprise you with a present.”

“A curbside pick-up and a present?  What did I do to deserve this?”  You’re still learning not to be surprised by Pero’s thoughtfulness.  Turns out you didn’t have a clue just how thoughtful he could be because you’re positively floored when he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a helmet smaller than the one he wears, and holds it out to you with both hands.

“For me?” A question more rhetorical than anything, you’re astonished as you reach out to accept.

Pero is pleased by your reaction, “For you, princesa.  Gotta protect that pretty head of yours.”

“Should I feel special?  Or is this the helmet you keep on hand for all the girls you let ride… your bike?” your eyes crinkle mischievously, leaving no doubt of the double meaning to your words.

But Pero isn’t about to let this romantic moment get away; he turns the helmet in your hands so that you’re looking at the back before he leans in to plant a soft peck to the upturned corner of your mouth, “Brand new just for you, Cookie.”

You look down and see that on at the very back, near the base of the shiny black helmet, is a small silver etched cartoon of Hello Kitty baking cookies.  You love it!  It’s so cute.  So you.  Pulling the helmet over your head, it smells brand new and you feel the baby pink lining personally picked for you fit snug against the sides of your head; definitely not a shared helmet.  Internally, you swoon.

“I love it!” you call out loudly so Pero can hear you through the thick plastic.  Grinning big back at you, Pero helps adjust your chin straps before playfully flipping down your visor, “Looking good, hermosa.  Ready to ride.”  He winks at you before helping you up onto the back of the bike and putting on his own helmet.  You’re overcome; it’s more than the fact that Pero cares for your safety.  Your heart flutters at the idea that Pero is planning for future bike rides with you, frequent enough that it warrants you getting your own gear.  When he takes off, you hold on to him tighter than necessary.

---

That night, he fucks you on all fours, naked except the helmet.  The protective headgear muffles your pornographic screams of ecstasy, while the sensory deprivation amplifies every orgasm he pulls from your overwrought cunt.  After he paints your insides white, Pero runs you a bath to help soothe your strung-out body; cradling you in his arms under the steamy water, he asks if you might like to do that again, but where he keeps the helmet on as well.  Sleepily, you tell him the truth, “Anything for you, Pero.”

The next morning you come twice while riding him just from watching the way your tits bounce in the shiny reflection of his helmet visor.

Sleepy Sunday mornings with you are Pero’s favourite.  The two of you still naked from the previous night’s lascivious activities, bodies tangled in your crisp bed sheets, just talking; he’ll press soft kisses to your hair while you draw endless designs on his chest with your perfectly manicured nails.  It’s as close to domestic bliss as Pero’s ever felt.

“Cookie, don’t take this the wrong way…”

You tilt your head up to see Pero smiling indulgently and raise your eyebrows to play along.

“Why aren’t you married to some rich investment banker, living in a mansion and being treated like the princesa you are?”

You can tell it’s a genuine question, not meant in any way to be insulting; you think you also read unspoken questions in Pero’s eyes: Is that the life you want?  What are you doing with me, then?  Something to get out of your system before you settle down?

You lay your head on Pero’s chest, chin resting on your hands as you try to be thoughtful about your response.

“I probably could be, if that was what I wanted?  I’ve dated those guys before, I grew up with a lot of them, and they can be nice enough.  Although, I suppose some of them aren’t.”  Pero’s eyes darken at this but lets you continue.  “It’s just that with everything they do, they… I guess, maybe a way to describe it is, they lead with money.  Having money, making more money, showing off what money they have – it’s what drives all their decisions.  It’s core to who they are or who they want to be.”

You take a deep breath, “And that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and it doesn’t mean they are bad people.  But, I don’t know?  My measure of value and success has never been wealth.  I just… never want money to define me like that.  I wouldn’t want to feel like it’s my identity.”

Pero seems quiet, giving you a chance to add, “I know that that’s a very privileged thing for me to say.  Money is important, and I’m very lucky to not have to worry about it.  I’d just want to live a life and be someone, be with someone, that contributes beyond that.”

You sigh.  It sounds silly even to your ears; first world problems, indeed.  But Pero pets your head lovingly, lightly massaging your temples with his thumb and reassures you, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Cookie.  I’ve seen the way you care for your friends, and the love you hold for your family.  Life has treated you well and you don’t take it for granted.  You carry yourself with gentleness and pour kindness into everything you do.  Everyone you meet or is lucky enough to know you is made better having had a chance to bask in your sunshine.  Including me.  Especially me.”

Pero’s sweet words have you tearing up.  You’ve suspected it for a while, but now you’re sure that of the two of you, he’s the kinder one; he of the tender heart.  You remain convinced that it must be some sort of cosmic prank that one of the most deeply feeling men you’ve ever known makes his living being intimidating and scaring people on purpose.  You think you’re falling in love with him.

“You’re so different than people think you are,” you whisper, contemplatively.

“Oh, how’s that, hermosa?” he gives you a deep scowl, not unlike the one he wore when you first met, but you’re not fooled.  You don’t think that scowl will fool you ever again.  You crawl up his body, and break up your words with soft kisses all over Pero’s neck, jaw, face, lips, “So you’re a little grumpy.  But grumpy is a mood, not who you are.  You’re fiercely loyal; maybe you don’t have a million friends but the people you decide to let in, you treasure.  You’re a friend for life.  You’re hardworking and you love what you do; and even though you’re supposed to be intimidating for your job, I’ve never seen you treat anyone disrespectfully.  More often than not, you lead with kindness.  And you’re so generous!  Both with your time and your good humour.  And thoughtful.  The most thoughtful man.  You’re always so considerate of my heart and feelings – don’t think I don’t notice when you do things just because you think they might make me happy.  I’m so lucky, Pero.  Maybe I’m not living in a mansion, but I’m already being treated like a princess.”

“You deserve it, princesa.  And more,” Pero wraps his arms around you and rolls you gently so you lie beneath him, caged in by his strong arms and his heavy gaze, “I’d do anything for you.”

“I know,” you whisper, before closing your eyes and letting Pero show you how deeply your words have affected him.

Once, you asked Pero what he loved the most about riding a bike, and he told you it was probably the sense of freedom and also calm that the open road brings him; then throwing you a wink, told you that having a pretty backpack to show off was getting up there. 

Your favourite part of rides with Pero is ironically when you’re not riding at all, but when you’re stopped by the side of the road for a breather, to take in a pretty view, or if you just can’t wait to get home to sample the food you rode all that way for.  You’ll sit on the backseat and Pero will sit with his back against the fuel box facing you, the shared food placed in between.  As you savour the trip’s procured delicacy, Pero will pull your legs off the back peg and massage the back of your calves lovingly, melting away the tension built up from the long ride.  Inevitably, he’ll start to inch his hands higher and higher; how far you let him go really depends on how horny you are that day.  Most of the time, you're wet with want for Pero by this point of the ride, powerless against how adept he is at turning you on – once, while you were parked in a rest area right next to the highway, he had walked his hand up your skirt to stroke you over your soaked panties so expertly, you had been one shudder away from just letting him finger fuck you to completion while unsuspecting traffic zoomed by.  You don’t tell Pero, but lately you’ve had an increasingly vivid fantasy of sinking down on his cock and riding him on his bike out in the open, public decency be damned, until you both come, moans drowned out by passing commuters who get the show of a lifetime.

As it is, sex with Pero leaves you breathless and more than fulfilled.  He worships your body and reaches parts of you that you didn’t even know existed, setting you on fire with his every touch.  His particular brand of filthy dirty talk combined with gruff praise, gets you shockingly wet every time; just the memory of his low baritone growling ‘good girl’ in your ear can have you distracted and fantasizing about his dick at the most inconvenient of times.  More than once, you’ve had to turn off your camera during a work video call, afraid that your colleagues would be able to read your far off, cock drunk expression for what it is.

You’re definitely falling in love with him.

“Do you think it’s weird that I’ve never been to Pero’s place?” you wonder out loud.  You’re not sure it bothers you, but it’s something you realized only recently.

“No? Not weird… but I didn’t know you hadn’t,” says Eloise, surprised.

Dorothy doesn’t even look up from her magazine, “No, it’s not weird at all, babe.  I mean, I’m sure your place is way nicer than his.”

“Maybe.  Well, I don’t know really, I guess,” you crinkle your nose.

“No, babe, it’s definitely nicer.  Maybe he thinks his place isn’t good enough for you.  Or maybe he’s too scared to find out if you don’t think his place is good enough for you,” Dorothy says with certainty.

You can’t imagine Pero being scared of anything, “That kind of thing doesn’t matter to me.”

“We know it doesn’t!” sympathizes Eloise, “But if you’re thinking about it, why don’t you just talk to him about it?”

You nod; you think the next time you see Pero, you will.

The next day, you make your now typical lunch time trip to visit Pero; when you walk into Lin’s lobby, it’s empty but that’s not unusual.  Walking over to the reception desk where Pero works, you see that his computer is on so you decide to just wait until he comes back, unpacking a small container of snickerdoodles you brought for him in the meantime.  As you put the container on the desk, you’re surprised to hear voices coming from the small alcove for the staff elevator hidden in the corner of the lobby.

“Heard you got yourself a designer pussy, Tovar.”

“Best part of working in restaurants like this is getting a shot at all these rich sluts who wouldn’t normally look twice at you on the street, but now they want to slum it with the kitchen staff.”

“Hey, come now…”  That’s William’s voice, you realize; the other two you don’t recognize.

“Oh you’re a married old fart, but I’m sure you’ve got some of these wannabe trophy wives throwing themselves at you.  You can’t expect us to believe you’ve never had a taste!”

“Yeah, how you can look at that piece that Tovar is tapping and not want a slice for yourself?”

“Or do you guys share her?  She into that?”

“Fuck, if she’s into that, then please, please call me the next time she wants to go to Paris.  Better yet, bet she’d pay for an actual trip to Paris.  Chick probably has more money than she knows what to do with.  Let her pay for that good dicking, yeah?”

“A couple of us have a little competition on who can bag the hottest, most desperate sugar mama from the restaurant.  You want in, Tovar?  There’s a prize for who can keep it running the longest too.  You’ve been banging her for a few months now, so you’re a shoo in for that.  So fucking easy.  All you gotta do is give these dumb rich bitches a little bit of attention and they’re opening up their legs… and cheque books like that.” You hear a finger snap, followed by loud, spine-chilling cackling.

You think you’re going to be sick.  You’ve never heard such misogynistic, classist, and honestly vile talk in your life; you’re about to march over to the alcove where these assholes think they’re so cleverly hidden and given them a piece of your mind when you hear Dorothy’s name.

“Your girl got that friend, Dorothy?  Oh fuckkkkkkkkkk, wanna tap that snobby, entitled pussy so fucking bad.  She’s always strutting around the restaurant like she owns the place; want to put her in her place… on my cock.”

“Introduce me, Tovar.  Or you saving her for yourself?  This skirt you’re fucking now is just a stepping stone to a bigger, richer fish?  Hey!  Kudos to you man, but do me a favour – when you’ve moved on and up, send that pretty thing over my way for some comforting.  I’ll make sure she’s fucked so good she doesn’t even remember your name.”

You haven’t heard Pero’s voice at all during this stomach-churning exchange; you keep waiting for him to speak up and shut down this type of talk, when you hear the cruelest sound you’ve ever heard.

Pero’s laugh.  He’s laughing.  Then you hear William join in, and soon all four men are laughing uproariously.  At you.  At your friends.  At women.  Women who have the means to dine at this restaurant which apparently means they’re stupid, desperate, and not worth any respect or even the decency of being treated like human beings with feelings.  All of this is what Pero thinks of you.  Every cadence of his ongoing laugh is sharp like cruelty itself, piecing and shattering your heart.  You didn’t even know there were men out there that debased and demeaned women this way; how could you have let one into your life, your bed.  Your heart.  They laugh for what feels like forever; you can’t stand to listen to it anymore and you flee.

---

Pero can’t help but laugh at what fucking idiots this busboy and dishwasher are.  They were spewing such despicable garbage and they fucking dared to talk about you in any such derogatory way, and did so with big smug grins – did they seriously think there wouldn’t be repercussions?  No fucking way anyone could be that dumb, he laughs.  William joins in on the same wavelength as Pero.  The laughter crescendos for a while before William catches his breath and manages to choke out, “You guys don’t even know...”  Still laughing, one of the idiots manages to ask, “Know what?”  And that’s when Pero goes silent, grabs the asshole by the neck and shoves him up against the wall, “You don’t even know how much shit you’re in, talking about my girl like that.”

“Hey dude, we were just kidd-,“ the busboy doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before Pero reaches out and William shoves him into Pero’s outstretch hand. 

“Shut up.  I talk now.”

Though gritted teeth, Pero growls menacingly, inches away from the dishwasher’s face, “You piece of shit.  You don’t deserve to think about her.  Talk about her.  Or share the same air as her.  If you ever go near her, you’ll be eating through a tube.”

He slams the busboy up against the wall next to his friend, “This is what is going to happen, William’s going to take you upstairs, and you’re going to thank him, because it was me, you’d both be losing blood before the elevator doors even closed.  You will get your things, and you will never fucking set foot in this restaurant again.  You’re fired.  Your last cheques will be mailed to you.  Never come back.”

He punctuates his point by pulling back and shoving both frightened men into the wall again, harder than before, hands firm on their throats, “…I’m this fucking close, just give me a reason to squeeze.”

“Pero.” William’s voice is barely audible through the thick cloud of rage fogging up Pero’s brain.  He felt physically disgusted at the way these two morons had talked about you and that they had even thought about you in the manner they were describing.  His sweet Cookie - the kindest and gentlest creature he had ever known.  That these assholes had contemplated laying a finger on you made him see red.  Never mind they trying to taint your friend, or any woman at all, with their gut-less filth.  They had said there were others like them, he seethed; he would root them all out and deal with it today.  If he could find it within himself to let go of their necks, that is.

“Pero.” William’s second attempt to bring Pero back down to earth finally ringing through.  He lets go, and the two pathetic excuses for men slide down the wall they had been pinned against, gasping for air. 

“Every restaurant worth working at will know what kind of shit you pull with their female patrons, don’t ever bother trying to apply for another restaurant job ever again.  Get the fuck out of my face now.”

William roughly hauls the two idiots into the staff elevator and out of Pero’s sight as quickly as possible, lest Pero failed to contain his rage any longer.

Taking some deep breaths, willing himself to calm down and for his breathing to even, Pero walks back to the front desk hoping there aren’t any patrons waiting in the lobby.  When he gets to his seat, his heart plummets.  There, on his desk, is a container of cookies.  From you.  You had been here.  What had you heard?  It couldn’t have been anything good because you had left without making your presence known.  He’s desperate to see you, comfort you.  Pero frantically rushes out the front doors and looks up and down the busy sidewalk, but you’re long gone.

Fuck.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮

Hiii!

Okay 51 new sentences for 📚:

---

See, when Ravi dropped out of college, his parents had been scared for him. Convinced he was throwing his life away to become a city employee. Like it was a dirty word. His father, one of the owners in a large property management company, had felt the need to take matters into his own hands. I won’t stop you from following what your heart says is right, Ravi, he’d said. But I also will not leave you without a safety net. He’d always thought his safety net was exorbitantly rich parents, but apparently not. Apparently, he needed properties. To begin building his own generational wealth. His father, therefore, put the ownership of two apartment complexes in Ravi’s name. One in Montebello and one in La Cienega Heights. 

The latter building was smaller. Only six units, one of which Ravi lived in. It was close to work. Easy to manage. And yes, a good asset to his name. The Montebello property - much larger - and the one across the street his father was pushing him to buy? A way bigger chore. One that Ravi was finding difficult to manage. 

“No,” Ravi shook his head. “No, I wasn’t just going to sell it.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Anil said, doing an excellent impression of sincere curiosity. 

“I was going to talk to you,” Ravi promised his father. “About taking it back or selling it. Investing the money properly. Letting the funds accrue.”

His father looked crestfallen.

“You did this behind your father’s back?” His mother asked. 

“No, no.” Ravi said again. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Well you talked to Shin.” Anil dropped another colossal bomb. 

“You talked to an agent at a rival brokerage to your brother’s?” His mother gasped, like Anil accused Ravi of stabbing him.

“I talked to my friend, who is familiar with the area and prices.” Ravi clarified. “It was one lunch.”

And how word of that got to Anil, Ravi did not know. 

“You don’t sell a gift, Ravi,” his father chastized. 

“It’s not…” Ravi sighed. “Look, I’m keeping the La Cienaga place. Montebello is too much for me, right now.”

“Too much for you to manage? Free real estate?” His father retorted.

“Pops, between all the shifts I’m working, and the drive out that way more than once a week, it’s been a lot,” Ravi tried to appeal to him. “I need down time. Time to decompress. I don’t do well if I-”

Anil scoffed. “So this is an autism thing, then.”

---

30 for 🦮:

---

“Are you sure?” Bobby asks.

“Yeah,” Buck nods. “Trainer says it’s my choice.”

Bobby smiles giddily. “Well, good. I love dogs.”

Buck grins. He misses Bobby. He visits sometimes, but it’s different from being here everyday. It’s different when it feels like he’s visiting out of some strange guilt.

“Also, I made everyone wait up there so they don’t overwhelm her,” Bobby says. Buck looks up. Sure enough, Hen, Chim, Eddie, and someone Buck has never seen before are standing at the rails of the mezzanine, looking down. “But we can bring coffee and lunch and everything down here so you don’t have to use the stairs.”

Buck gives the team a small wave before answering Bobby. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Buck says. “I can do stairs. It’s good to get practice in.”

He doesn’t want any more accommodation than he already has by bringing a dog in with him. He’s fine. He’s capable. 

“Okay,” Bobby nods. “Well, then up we go.”

Buck walks towards the fire station stairs as if he isn’t at all daunted. Not just to be climbing them, but to be climbing them with a dog. He’s definitely nervous. And he’s definitely going to feel a little wiped afterwards. Bobby walks ahead of him, and then Buck focuses on climbing each step the way he’s worked on in physical therapy. Foot first, then prosthetic.

[madsfrank]

'*•.¸♡ 𝕬 𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖙 𝕲𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕭𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖇𝖔𝖓 𝕻𝖙. 2 ♡¸.•*'

-ˏˋ Directory ˊˎ -ˏˋ AU ˊˎ -ˏˋ Pt. 1 ˊˎ -ˏˋ Pt. 3 ˊˎ

Pairing II Cowboy! Carlos x Fem! Reader

SFW II Angst, Fluff, City-themed reader

WC II 1.7k

Content II X reader, country motif, ranch, farmland

Synopsis II Living with your relatives in the country wasn’t going to be easy. Your nearest neighbor was a rancher a few miles down and better yet, her cows constantly got loose on your property. Maybe the only plus side was the young ranch hand who came to retrieve them.

Just like you predicted, the muffled caws shook you from your slumber. The rooster had awoken extra early, you think, just for you. How…great.

The sun had barely risen above the horizon as you got up to peer through your blinds. It’s early rays drew everything across the ranch in this pale, golden glow. Almost as if everything was in a haze.

Slipping off your nightgown, you carefully selected a pair of jeans and a flannel you wouldn’t mind getting dirty from one of your traveling bags. Two months here would also mean a new set of ranch clothes soon.

You family was already awake. Making themselves coffee and throwing on their boots. Your uncle offered you some dark roast, which you gladly accepted. Coffee wasn’t always your favorite, but something about the chill of a morning this early and the scent of the land around you made it all the more appealing.

After your core had been warmed, your aunt tossed you a work hat. Your first gift on the ranch. You nearly chuckled, the hat was a cowgirl hat! Did they actually wear these on a daily basis?

The answer was yes, as your aunt slipped on her own and led you to the stables.

Your families ranch had a multitude of building, but the stables had to be the most ornate. They were painted like a classic barn, with a tall roof and heavy oak doors. It was furthest from the house, butting up to old wooden fence post, connecting your property to your neighbors.

“Now I know your excited to meet Rosie, so I figure I’ll start you off by familiarizing you two. Why don’t you take that brush over there,” she pointed to a shelf within the stable, “and giver ‘er a good brushing.”

You nodded, making your way over to Rosie’s part of the stable as your aunt headed off to the chicken coop.

Her sliver coat was impeccable, it was short, but yet wonderfully patterned and you began to wonder how any animal could form something so beautiful.

Taking the brush, you slowly approached her. The Turkoman was gentle as could be, easing down so you could have access to her neck.

She took to you well. You moved slow and calmly. All the while cooing the creature. You had become so invested in caring for her that you failed to realized the bells approaching the nearby fence.

“MMMMMOOOOOOO”

The noise startled you, and made you squeak, earning a neigh from Rosie.

When you moved out from the stable, you saw a caw had made it’s way into your property, you assumed through a break in the fence a few feet down.

“Just who are you now?” You smiled, the cow looked back at your with big, brown doe eyes.

“Hey new-girl!”

A young man was pacing toward you at the fence. Stopping to catch his breath at the post.

“Sorry for bothering you miss, my mama’s cows don’t really listen to our herd dogs.

You looked up at the man. He was young. About your age, with long curly locks that seemed to cover his eyes almost entirely.

He was big too, well-built from years of labor. A pair of leather gloves covered the hands that leaned against your fence.

You stared at the man for a moment, there was a certain charm to him you couldn’t place, almost as if he talked too loosely for a stranger.

“Oh no, it’s alright, I was just taken care of the horses,” you pointed to Rosie.

He leaned forward on the fenced and lifted one of his hands flat in the air.

“Well, it’s still my cow, new-girl. I didn’t want her to cause no trouble,” he chuckled.

“So I guess we’re neighbors, huh?”

“That depends, You livin’ here?”

“For the summer.”

He stood up again, smiling slightly before dipping into thought.

“Not gonna lie new-girl, I feel like I’ve seen you before…” he questioned.

“Well, I used to come around here as a kid. I’m staying with my aunt and uncle.”

“(Y/n)?”

He knew who you were?

“Yeah that’s me.”

The neighbor’s smile then grew warm.

“It’s me, Carlos. Miss Oliveira’s kid. One of ‘em,” he was practically beaming with excitement now, recognizing you almost instantly.

You remembered Carlos now, one of they brothers you sometimes played with as a kid.

“You’re one of the boys then, huh?”

“All that’s left. Rico is still here, we help mama around the ranch. Some of my older brothers got their own place now or went off to work.”

You looked past him into his property. It spanned forth miles. Embracing the large stone and board ranch house. It was much wider than your own, with thick smoke puffing out from the chimney.

Carlos noticed your action and moved out of your line of sight.

“Haven’t changed much. Mama keeps that fire going every mornin’ and night since I was little. You prolly remember that.”

You changed your sight to look back at him.

“I remember you and your brothers would race each other down the hill over there.” You pointed to a long dip into his property, spanning the length of it’s southwest side.

Carlos scoffed a bit, shaking his head like he was remembering his childhood years.

“So where have you been all these years, (y/n)?”

“I’ve been away for collage, back home in New York.”

“Yeah, I remember you being a city girl. Didn’t you once end up hitching a ride on mama’s cows?”

Your face turned beat red from embarrassment and you angled your head to the grass.

“Oh, uh—yeah. That was me. Heh,” your voice was shaky and quiet. Obviously reminded of how embarrassed you were to be cleaned up by your neighbor’s mom.

Carlos could sense he asked something wrong and quickly corrected himself.

“N-no! I mean it was cute…er like, you know, like kids do.” Now he was embarrassed.

You cleared your throat and realized that you were both dodging each others gaze.

“Well I should—”

—get going”

You both spoke at once, apologizing profusely.

He nodded, spoke a quick goodbye and turned on his heel to leave. Meaning you were back to taking care of Rosie. Cooing her once more.

By the time you had finished conversing. Your aunt had come to collect you for more tasks throughout the day. None quite as interesting as your chat with Carlos.

You quickly followed your aunt and uncle across the property, serving for your orientation.

Shoveling shit was the worst. The pitchforks you had to use were old and splintered, but, your aunt had promised you would get to herd afterwords. She said it was just like all those old cowboy movies too.

After piling the goat crap into a bucket and removing it, your uncle met you at the heavy wooden doors.

“Well,” he hummed, “since I reckon you take to Rosie so well, how about you take ‘er out herding. Your aunt will show y’a how.”

You were practically beaming with excitement as uncle Mark led you back to the stables. He began to explain how to saddle her. Taking one of your aunts saddles from off the wall and securing it. He also changed Rosie’s stirrups into a custom set-up that you wouldn’t struggle with.

“Now, you were too little last time you were here, so your aunt will teach you some basics on how to ride. For now…hop on.” He pat Rosie behind the saddle and handed her off to you.

After hooking your leg around the saddle, Rosie began to strut off to the open land, heavy with different kinds of goats all running about.

Clara met you halfway from the house, on an older morgan she called Missy. She thought you how to control Rosie through example, all the while strutting forward into the open field of goats.

“Don’t give her too much pressure on the bit now. Just keep ‘er head up a little…like that, you’re a fast learner, girl!” Your aunt cheered.

You and Rosie were agreeable, it helped that the horse already knew what to do. She wrapped around one side of the field and your aunt took the other.

“Now,” She shouted, “the goal is to get them heading to the barn. Take the side opposite to me, circle ‘em, ‘n turn the herd around.”

The pair of you were off, making quick work of shifting the herd. Rosie already knew what to do, making your work rather simple. Aunt Clara led while you followed. Moving the goats orderly. Returning them to the barn.

Rosie kept to the rear the whole time, up till the barn doors has closed.

“That was fun!” You laughed, cheering for yourself.

Aunt Clara praised you, having learned so quickly. She helped you off the horse right after, and guided you both back to the stables.

“Saw you talking to the neighbors boy,” she prodded, “he’s a cute one, and a hard worker too. Takes care of most of that property for his family.”

You didn’t know why, but you found yourself blushing as you recollected your time spent with Carlos. You found yourself commenting on how nice it was to speak to him.

“I’ll tell you what,” your aunt paused for a moment, “I have some extra goat’s milk…I’ll have you send it down. Give you a chance to catch up with ‘em.”

You found yourself blushing once again and agreed. Had you really enjoyed talking to him that much?

Most of the mornings tasks were over now, leaving you and your aunt to return to the farmhouse while she began packing up goat’s milk in some ribbon.

“Why don’t you go get changed, hon. Can’t have you lookin a mess.” She winked.

A wave of nerves washed over you as you returned to your room to clean yourself up, suddenly worried about meeting his mom and him again. Would She remember you? Your head was spinning with thoughts about what you would say or how you would act when-

“Well hurry up now! Milk ain’t getting any colder!”

[homemadegirlbossbattle]

ROUND 2 / SIDE A / POLL 3*

Jestiny Rook (@adelaidedrubman, art by @derelictheretic) vs. Itch (@zipmode)

*This poll has had to be reposted due to a scheduling error. I encourage you to re-cast your votes if you voted on the previous version of the poll. My sincerest apologies for the inconvenience.

Jestiny Rook info:

Description: jestiny is an overgrown gifted child burn out and self-described “normal human person” slash future “america’s sweetheart” who is in actuality widely locally hated in her canon material (far cry 5). a girl with no moral compass but a deep fondness for dying on every hill she’s ever come across, she initially attempts to abandon her position as a deputy (cop, strike one) after the county she’s sworn to protect is seized by a violent doomsday cult, but has a quick change of heart after seeing how much her friends and neighbors need her help — just kidding, she has no friends and only got invested for the sake of playing 5D chess with a middle management cult leader slash torturer to feed her own desire for an unearned sense of intellectual superiority. and once she IS invested, she is ramping up war crimes and endangering the civilians she swears she’s doing this to protect while subjecting them to her childish tantrums, violence, manipulation, and generally awful personality! described by the characters who know her best as “vicious, ruthless, heinous, condemnable, merciless, insufferable, deplorable, irredeemably violent nightmare of a woman” “harbinger of destruction, force of ruin” “not fucking special, fucking pathetic” and “a very difficult test to be faced with,” she has an undeniable devilish charm!

Crimes: impromptu torturing a man seeking her help to flee a cult, callously prying into the trauma of her crush’s past victims to sate her own morbid curiosity, countless murder of civilians (including for singing a song she didn’t want to hear), grave desecration, attempting to make the deceased’s surviving family member feel unreasonable for criticizing the grave desecration, theft by false pretense, ordering pointless raids resulting in foreseeable unnecessary deaths to impress her crush, deceiving and manipulating allies, revealing sensitive information resulting in a deadly siege of a stronghold, destruction of sentimental property, and throwing self-victimizing tantrums any time she is called out on any of the above.

Other notes from the submitter: she’s just a funny little guy.

Itch info:

Description: Tall as fuck undead wizard whose life goal is to help a god of flesh rise to the surface of the world. Loves to cause agony to pretty much anyone as long as its funny. She's like if bugs bunny wanted to see the world bleed.

Crimes: hoooooh boy ok lets see: mass murder, unethical experimentation, creation and distrubution of dangerous substances (it's called mystery meat in her world LOL), Cyberbullying, rolling joints poorly at parties on purpose, making and then subsequently mistreating homunculi, aiding a giant evil worm god in its plans to destroy an entire city, voter fraud, tax fraud, is constantly unclean due to the nature of being what is basically a zombie that can think for itself. OH and milf hunting. She'll fuck ur mom no problem sorry.

Other notes from the submitter: -

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Can u describe alastor home, what does it look like and where does he live

Alastor lives in his childhood home, at the edge of the city. His property backs up against the bayou. While his property itself isn't very large, there's a good bit of undeveloped land around him- the area isn't desirable due to the dangers of the wildlife.

His home is a simple two story structure. There's two bedrooms, though both are smaller. He hasn't done much to update his home, it still runs on gas lights and uses a wood stove for cooking. He did however invest in plumbing and a hot water furnace early on, a gift for his mother in her declining health.

He's not too keen on getting his home wired, though it'll be a good bit until it's a option out his way. He'd rather live in the past and the memories of his mother than move forward into the future.

His decore is a lot of what was left from his mother's passing for the same reason. A lot of rich warm woods. He favors reds and earth tones and that shows as well. He has many books and records and a few hunting trophies scattered around.

PS- answers will slowdown a little bit since I'm working but keep them coming!

[giftcityproperty23]

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[female-malice]

How do you advocate for cities and claim to love the environment? The run off and toxins, the destruction of natural spaces, and the destruction of man's connection to nature? There is nothing more unnatural or embodies the false idols of capitalism and waste like a city. They're called concrete jungles for a reason, a foul mockery of the gifts of Gaia. Do you really think mankind is more harmonious with nature when living in a steel and glass cage where there is no shrubbery or foliage than they are in a 5 acre wooded property? Where no animal can escape the fate of ending up road kill? Where the infrastructure and lifestyle cannot compete with the fires which cleanse the forest or the blizzards which feed it?

Ah, yes, blizzards. Surely we can count on blizzards every year. Surely the drought crisis will just suddenly vanish one day, right? So that will just magically take care of itself. Okay.

Do these hypothetical rural Gaia-loving cabin dwellers have infrastructure? Or no? Are we doing rural infrastructure, too? Or are we talking about cryptic cottage witches with no contact to the outside world?

In reality, rural areas require infrastructure. Roads. Power lines. Power plants. Water. And the cost and energy use to build this infrastructure is astronomical. And for all that cost and energy invested, only a few people benefit.

Who do you think is actually using the highways? Who do you think is killing the most wildlife? Do you honestly think an urban cyclist is responsible for more roadkill than a rural driver?

Do you seriously think there's no industrial pollution in rural areas? Do you really think all that rural land is undisturbed? Have you ever seen an industrial map? Do you know who actually owns all the rural land in the US and what they're doing with it?

They're not living in harmony with Gaia. That's for sure.

You're arguing that pollution is inherent to urban development. So by your logic, I can say deforestation and ecocide are inherent to rural development.

There are ways to have better rural and urban policy. But policy change doesn't seem to exist in your logical framework. So I guess we won't discuss it. Should we just say what we see in front of our faces is the only way things can ever be?

[res-management]

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[kunvarjirealty]

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[barfok]

25, 20 and 11 + any couple surprise me >:)

mora ilinalta ra'athim + first council period almalexia. oc/canon round i am cringe but i am free

25. Who said "I love you" first?

ilinalta, and it was only when almalexia granted her real estate in the city. she was trying to subtly condition almalexia into associating the giving of expensive gifts with rewards of affection but it backfired by making almalexia deeply uncomfortable instead and her dreams of a free investment property empire fell tragically flat

20. If they disagree, who's usually the one to compromise?

ilinalta because she knows damn well that all her fortunes rest on being able to soothe almalexia's fragile shattered ego. also because almalexia can be hideously stubborn

11. What good do they bring out in each other?

ilinalta really brings out almalexia's propensity to give away expensive gifts of real estate. and almalexia extracted ilinalta from her shitty family which did wonders for her self-esteem in the long run

[localboom1]

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Moreover, shopping locally means you get personal service and expert advice from people who know their products and are invested in their community. Unlike large chain stores, where service can be impersonal and transactional, local businesses often build lasting relationships with their customers. This personalized attention can make all the difference, whether you're buying a gift, finding a new favorite product, or just exploring what's new in town.

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