#angeles city house for sale

[realtyhubph-blog]

3 BR Townhouse Ametta Place Alveo Pasig

Upscale living awaits! Pre-owned 3BR townhouse in Ametta Place by Alveo. 3 baths, maid's room, 2 carports. Luxurious amenities & prime location! East-facing for morning sun. ☀️ Inquire now! #JMListings

📍Ametta Place Mercedes Ave, Pasig, Metro Manila PROPERTY FEATURES TYPE: 3 Story Townhouse📐 Lot: 125 square meters | Floor: 183 square meters🛌 3 Bedrooms🛀 3 Bathrooms🅿️ 2 Carports��️ 1 Maid’s room with bath✅ In front of the Clubhouse✅ Main door facing East (morning sun) 🏊‍♂️ AMENITIES Swimming Pool • 24/7 Security • Car Park • Landscaped Gardens • Children’s Play Area • Basketball Court…

[reasonsforhope]

"Faced with declining membership, aging buildings and large, underutilized properties, many U.S. houses of worship have closed their doors in recent years. Presbyterian minister Eileen Linder has argued that 100,000 churches may close in the next few decades.

But some congregations are using their land in new ways that reflect their faith – a focus of my urban planning research. Some are repurposing their property to provide affordable housing, as the housing crisis intensifies across the country.

Take Arlington Presbyterian Church in Arlington, Virginia. In 2016, the church sold its historic stone building to the Arlington Partnership for Affordable Housing to construct a 6-story complex with 173 apartments, known as “Gilliam Place.” The building still houses space for the congregation, as well as La Cocina, a bilingual culinary job training facility and cafe. In Austin, Texas, St. Austin Catholic Parish is partnering with a developer to build a 29-story tower providing 200 beds of affordable student housing, in addition to new spaces for ministry.

Other houses of worship are pursuing similar projects today.

Same mission, new projects

Faith-based organizations have been building housing for many years, but generally by purchasing additional property. In recent years, however, more houses of worship are building affordable housing on the same property as the sanctuary.

This can be done in a variety of ways. Some congregations adapt the existing sanctuary and other faith-owned buildings, while others demolish existing buildings to construct a new development, which may or may not have space for the congregation. Another option is to build on excess property, like a parking lot.

Depending on how a development deal is structured, a faith-based organization may receive proceeds from the sale of its land, or from leasing their property to a developer – funds which they can then spend on ministry or on a new space for worship. If a new development includes space for the congregation, sometimes they rent out those spaces when the space is not being used for worship, which can also financially benefit the congregation.

Faith-based organizations often see these projects as a way to do “God’s work.” In some instances, they include community services beyond the housing itself.

Near Los Angeles, the Episcopal Church of the Blessed Sacrament in Placentia partnered with a nonprofit affordable housing developer – National Community Renaissance, also called National CORE – to develop 65 units for older people. The complex also includes a 1,500 square foot (140 square meter) community center. The city’s diocese has a goal of building affordable housing on 25% of its 133 properties.

For some congregations, these are mission-driven projects rooted in social justice.

In Washington, D.C., Emory United Methodist Church redeveloped its property and constructed The Beacon Center – which has 99 affordable housing units, community spaces, and a commercial kitchen that provides job training for recently incarcerated people – while preserving the sanctuary. In Seattle, the Nehemiah Initiative is working with Black churches in the Central District, a historically African American neighborhood, to redevelop its properties into affordable housing to keep residents from being displaced."

Potential to evolve

As states and cities struggle to provide affordable housing, studies have been conducted from Nashville to New York City on the amount of land faith organizations own, and their potential as housing partners.

In the D.C. metro area, for example, the Urban Institute found almost 800 vacant parcels owned by religious organizations. In California, a report from the Terner Center at University of California, Berkeley found approximately 170,000 “potentially developable” acres of land owned by religious organizations and nonprofit colleges and universities...

When thinking about the redevelopment process, Arlington Presbyterian member Jon Etherton told me, “the call from God to create, do something about affordable housing was bigger than the building itself.”"

-via The Conversation, July 19, 2024

[the-blackbird-roleplays]

@wayward-roleplays

New Orleans, Louisiana.

Hidden in an alley and underground, next to a practitioner of the art of voodoo, is a auction. Not the normal kind of auction house with antiques and jewelry, this one specializes in pleasure and illegal dealings of supernatural creatures that look mostly human.

The person at the ticket stand looks up and studies the man in front of him. "Do you have an interest in the unknown, and Supernatural? Can I offer you a ticket to the show?" He asks making a sales pitch.

Kuro smirked at the man, nodding softly as he fished out a few bills from his wallet.

"Considering most of my life has been spent in the shadows, I think seeing what else is out there would be fun." He grinned softly, his true motives as indecipherable as a seaborne fog.

The Fallen Angel had been hunting down this particular show for the past several months, reports of illicit dealings and under-the-table markets becoming more frequent this close to Mardi Gras. Seems even the darker elements of humanity enjoy a good party...

Ticket in hand, Kuro passed through the hidden door and descended the stairs into what he was almost certain was an old morgue. Things had changed a lot in this city since he'd claimed Nouvelle Orleans as his home centuries prior. Some details were hard to keep track of for the quasi-immortal...

[chocmoon-latte]

There's this added layer of sadness to the Sole Survivor that I've never seen anyone talk about, and that's the fact you as the protagonist haven't just been stripped of your identity not just in a metaphorical sense, but a very literal one as well. Despite being frozen for 210 years, the world before would still be fresh in your mind.

Imagine walking down into The Third Rail for the first time to hear the angelic singing of Magnolia echoing throughout the establishment, and as you turn the corner to see her performing in the spotlight, your expression immediately changes as you realize... that's your dress she's wearing.

You're in Diamond City and head over to the office to talk to Mayor McDonough about asking permission to check out Kellogg's house, and when you're talking to Geneva at the front desk you notice she's wearing your mother's necklace. Or worse, you bump into Ann Codman and she's the one wearing it, and you barely get a chance to get a second glimpse at it before she huffily walks away.

You see old memories of yours for sale that you can't buy back because you don't have the money, finding belongings of yours in the most unlikely of places. Things of yours owned by people who can't be convinced that those items are still yours to you, because they can't believe you're really from all those years ago so they mock you instead.

Seeing old photos of you happy from your life before, being placed among photos of other people in buildings being used as some kind of decoration. A bitter realization and a constant reminder that you, the things you use to associate with and the people you use to associate with really are just relics of the past.

[thegirlfromblackwater]

If the Van der Linde Gang lived in Modern Times (Modern Au)

Life gives you funny ideas...and I'm going to write them down

Arthur

Would live on a ranch in Montana or Wyoming as a rancher

Offers services like trail rides, lessons, and boarding

Has a herd of cattle

Spends every Sunday watching Rodeos on TV

Watches while sitting in his favorite worn-out armchair

Always has a cold beer and a snack or his dinner while watching

Has a pickup truck that's a bit filthy on the inside. Addresses his car as a "she."

Treats it like a horse: calls it a "good gurl."

Has a mounted Trout and some taxidermy on the walls

The Wifi at the ranch is spotty..doesnt understand why guests need it when they're surrounded by nature

Network Name: MorganRanch Password: Ynnel123

Tried to fix the router once but not exactly tech savvy. Ended up punching it

Texts Albert Mason sometimes

Dutch

Definitely lives in a city either Los Angeles or New York City

Lives in a Snazzy Penthouse in the clouds with a skyline

Works as a motivational speaker

Wears a lot of bling

Has a bar in at his place

Molly always tries to find a way in

Calls Hosea a lot

Has a weird fetish for black, red and white furniture.

Still loves reading books by Evelyn Miller despite that the writer is a nobody living in Idaho

John, Abigail & Jack

They probably live out west on a farm (very much like Beechers Hope)

John works on the ranch and also has side multiple side jobs (thanks to Abigail)

Jack spends his time in the school library

Abigail is obsessed with this one bakery

Molly

Lives in whatever city Dutch lives in

Tries to make herself at home in the penthouse

Famous on social media for her makeup tutorials

The neighbors can usually hear Molly & Dutch fighting

Dutch: "Not now Miss O'shea" Molly: "Pig!"

Bill

Lives somewhere in the Midwest

Works as a truck driver for Walmart

spends a lot of his life on the road

Has a bit of road rage

likes rest stops

when he's not working, he is a part of a biker gang

has a tattoo sleeve and wears a white wife beater

one of those bikers that wears a bandana with the American flag on it

Marybeth

Probably lives in a quaint town on the east coast

Works in a bookstore during the day and is a freelance writer in her free time

Lives in a cute townhouse with a small garden in the front full of flowers.

Her house is cozy

has a seating area with big windows that look out over the street

spends her time writing and reading there

likes to sit at cafes and drink coffee

Lenny

Is a full-time university student by day and bartender by night

Lives in Chicago or Atlanta

Probably double majoring in Business and literature (if that combination even exists)

Lives his single life to the fullest

Mostly an A student who goes full ham on the weekends when partying

Micah

Lives in Las Vegas

Sells illegal drugs

Has no money because he gambled too much

Stays in different hotels

Owns a pawn shop

Everything for sale there was smuggled across the border

Has dealings with the cartels & other shady characters

Hosea

Lives a quiet life out west

Goes to his lake house on the weekends to go fly fishing

Reads a lot of books

Also likes to go hunting

Is a part time English teacher who teaches children to read

Talks to Dutch by phone

Sometimes visits Arthur and stays at his Ranch

Uncle

Lives in a trailer park in Florida where the weather is always warm and the cold won't bother his illness

Sits on a folding chair outside his mobile home

Plays the Banjo

Drinks a beer

Is a complete mess inside

Doesn't own much furniture

Can't work because of the Lumbago

Sweats a lot

Naps and snores too loud

Lives next to a swamp

Javier

Lives in Arizona

Lives in the desert

Grows cactuses

Owns a Music shop

Travels around playing at local bars

Works part time as a music teacher at the local high school

Has a YouTube where he shows off his music

Sadie

Probably lives in a city like Dallas or Denver

Works as a cop

Likes to catch people for speeding and sits on the side of the highway

eats Chick-fil-A while waiting

Watches Dateline

Carries a Taser

Always looks sexy in her uniform

Charles

Definitely lives in a cabin out west

works as a conservationist

Likes National Parks

Goes fishing with Arthur

supports and donates to the Bison Sanctuary (if one even exists)

Likes Camping

Trelawny

Lives a wealthy life in Charleston, South Carolina

Lives in a large southern mansion

Wears a robe to sleep

Has a whole walk-in closet full of clothes and accessories

Has a sauna in the basement where he relaxes

Owns a bunch of fancy cars: He loves his Bentley

Reverend Swanson

Probably lives in Philadelphia

Still works part-time at the church

Mostly spends his time helping people with addictions

Hosts an AA meeting three times a week

Rescues crackheads from the street

Mostly sober

Wrote a memoir on his journey to recovery

Sean

Lives in Boston

Likes the university/young people vibe

works at a pub

Everyone's favorite Bartender

Makes customers laugh

goes back to Ireland once a year

Takes Karen with him sometimes

Karen

Lives in Portland, Oregon

Works at a bar as a bartender and a stripper

Good Pole Dancer

Her large tits are popular amongst the men

Puts on shows in the evening

Talks to Sean a lot

Gets Hammered

Strauss

Works in Finance in New York City

Is a Workaholic

Has no friends

Goes back to Austria every few years

Boring to talk to

Always on a work call

Listens to Classical Music

Tilly

Lives in Nashville, Tennessee

Visits Marybeth a lot

Wants to be a Nurse

Likes taking care of people

Wants to travel around the world

Pearson

Lives somewhere in New England

Owns a restaurant and catering business

The restaurant is interestingly enough called "Pearsons"

Probably has a wife and some kids

Loves Maine Lobster one of those people that wears a bib when eating it because he's messy

Is a good Butcher

Susan Grimshaw

Lives in Florida

Is a housekeeper

Cleans uncles' mobile home once a week

Tries to control Tilly and Marybeth from miles away

disgruntled

[seeminglydark]

Not to be kinda depressing on main, but does Mickey have a favorite memory of his husband?

It’s ok, I’m about to be depressing on main in the next Chapter of Seemingly Dark, appropriately named The Haunted unless I think of something better in the next month haaa.

He does! Mickey lives in a house in the middle of the woods on the outskirts of Valleyridge. For those who may not know his whole story, he hails from Ciudad Juárez, moved to El Paso Texas and then to East Los Angeles with his mom and sisters. One of his dreams was to live in a peaceful place in the middle of the woods. He tells Reggie this when they first start chatting online, regarding it as a silly dream, but it’s easy to talk to a boy you can’t see.

He moves to Seattle to live near Reggie, and works as a Barista for several years, he’s not really been thinking of his little dream for a long time, he’s just trying to make ends meet and be happy in the situation he’s made for himself even if it is in another big noisy city.

One day Reggie comes bursting in his door saying LETS GO FOR A DRIVE, and he wants to take Micks car for some reason. So off they go on a little excursion to Valleyridge, the tiny town outside Olympia that Reggie and His dad came from. They make this trip often because Reggie’s little step sister Maddie runs a cafe there. Reggie is NOT an impulsive man, he’s the type to plan and plan and plan so much whatever it is he’s planning passes him by, but this time, he can barely contain his excitement and fear which is making Mickey increasingly nervous. Why would a trip to Valleyridge be nerve wrecking?

Because an older house went up for sale in the hills around Valleyridge, and impulsively without thinking, Reggie put a bid on it. And then realized MAYBE he should run that by Mick, MAYBE thats not a thing you just do, uproot your boyfriends entire life AGAIN and make him move somewhere new and start over.

Except this is Mick, the king of impulsive behavior. Mick, who dreams of a quiet life in the middle of nowhere. Mick who runs into the fixer uppers lawn whooping and hollering and lifts Reggie into the air because he ALSO realizes this means Reggie is ready to move in together, and make this little house their dream home.

He thinks of this often, so out of character for Reggie, so impulsive because he saw Micks dream might be in reach and he went for it fast before he lost it, for maybe the first time ever. He override his caution for the man he loved, and in that moment Mick knows he’s truly wanted and loved and has a home and family. Reggie’s smile that day, a real, true soul deep grin that was pretty rare for his beloved who battled with chronic depression, is something he pulls up in his mind on the regular.

And maybe, if we think about it this way, Reggie made a few other impulsive decisions in his life. Like adopting Rose.

And maybe, like staying.

[copperbadge]

Hi Mr Starbuck! Some friends and I are moving in a few months and we're eyeing various places all over the US. Chicago came up as a relatively affordable big city (compared to LA and NYC) and I have to ask the resident Tumblr Chicagoan his opinion. As a resident who lives and works in the windy city, what's your big pros and cons of residing there (especially things you might not encounter as a tourist)? (also, how accurate is your "guide to chicago" still, since its been a few years!)

Well, I definitely have opinions!

The guide to Chicago is no longer accurate -- too many places have closed or moved, and the pandemic altered a lot (for example the Money Museum still exists but I'm not sure if it has regular hours even now). I should do a new one but like, I really don't get out much anymore so I can't talk about restaurants outside of a VERY local area, and I never could talk much about hotels, which just leaves points of interest mostly already covered by Atlas Obscura. :D At this point it'd just be kind of moot, others are doing it better than I am.

Chicago is inexpensive compared to New York or Los Angeles, but like, that's everywhere in America. Chicago is still a quite pricey city to live in, mainly because the taxes are so high -- 10.25% sales tax, for example, and my property taxes are also pretty steep. People joke about Taxachusetts, but I'm pretty sure Chicago at least has it beat (and 2/3 of the state's population lives in Chicago or the outlying suburbs). Housing is not at a premium in the way it is in NY and LA but depending on where you want to live and how far you want to commute it can still be very expensive. My housing was never less than half of my monthly income until I bought this place, and then ONLY because the job I'm in now came with a $10K/yr raise from my last one.

Chicago does have great culture, great museums, great food, and it's a liberal island in a pretty conservative region. It is however quite segregated, so if you are any race other than white, living here can get a little more complicated than I've portrayed it as a white dude. There is significant crime and particularly gun crime, but it's generally confined to specific regions of the city. That said, even if you discount crime, the Chicago PD are corrupt as fuck and uninterested in being helpful, so if you are from a demographic the cops enjoy harassing, it will not be different here.

I do love the city, warts and all. I like the water, I like the people, I like the midwestern vibe. I'd find it very hard to leave, especially because I have a network of friends here, but also because I just plain like it and I know it really well. There is a very short list of cities I'd consider leaving Chicago for, and most of those would have to have a well-paying job waiting for me. But it did take me time to fall in love with it -- it took a few years before it felt like home.

It's a little difficult to get more specific without knowing more about your situation -- what you do for work, what your budget is like, what your goals are in leaving where you are. Do you prefer to drive most places? (Parking and traffic can both get dicey.) Can you tolerate taking public transit if driving is inconvenient? Is the industry in which you work something that has a lot of openings here? Do you want to live in an urban environment, and if so are you prepared to live in a likely somewhat shitty apartment to do so? If you prefer to live in a house, are you prepared for a long commute? What do you like to do for fun and is there a thriving culture for that here? What is it important to have access to -- museums, concerts, theater, sport? Where do you need to travel to regularly (ie, I go to Austin several times a year) and how do you prefer to travel there?

Anyway, yeah -- like, I love it but I have few illusions about it. If you want to chat further feel free to hit me up by email, happy to answer more specific questions!

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, today we have a rec list of A/B/O fics with touch deprivation! If you enjoy our rec lists and want them to continue, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word.

1) Get Nesting & Soft Knots | General Audiences | 5,714 words

Note: It is also locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

AU where Omega Louis who runs a nesting materials Youtube channel meets Alpha Harry who knits his own blankets.

2) Every Time We Touch | General Audiences | 5,806 words

Note: It is also locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis laughed when he heard the term professional cuddler for the first time. His doctor let Louis laugh and then explained the purpose behind the profession and how it could help Louis. It took a few weeks but Louis finally scheduled an appointment, now all he had to do was leave his car and walk into the house.

3) Tearing Me Apart | Not Rated | 6,079 words

Louis knew his heart was breaking and there was nothing he could do about it. He knew the day his best friend finally presented as an Alpha that he was his alpha but Harry kept breaking his heart. He kept bringing random omegas into their shared apartment and Louis just cried each night with a hand over his mouth to stifle the noise. His touch deprivation was getting bad but his alpha didn't know.

4) Everything Comes Back To You | Explicit | 8,643 words

Harry and Louis are childhood best friends. What happens when Harry has to move towns just as they are starting their secondary gender presentations? What happens when fate brings them back together years later in the most unexpected of ways?

5) Night Out | Explicit | 9,741 words

Note: This fic is the prequel to fic #xx on this list. It is also locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Symphony hall was the first place Louis had felt at home in this city, and he always had the box to himself. Until tonight. Symphony hall was the first place Louis had felt at home in this city, and he always had the box to himself. Until tonight.

6) Unfortunate Fortunes | Not Rated | 9,793 words

There are three stages of touch deprivation. Stage one is very mild, stage two leads to itchy skin and restless nights, but stage three is the worst. Omegas with stage three touch deprivation, rarely survive because the only cure for it is finding your true mate. Louis Tomlinson is an omega with stage three touch deprivation and Harry Styles is his new alpha neighbour who also happens to be a famous boxer-not that Louis knows.

7) Breathe Me In, Breathe Me Out | General Audiences | 14,263 words

Louis is drawn into a quaint candle shop in his desire to find ways to soothe himself while struggling with touch depri. It takes him two more run-ins and with the lovely alpha sales assistant, and a drop, to figure out the source of the scent that imprints upon him and calms his omega. Idiots to lovers.

8) Just Let Me | Explicit | 14,714 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

The party was going well. So well, Niall had already sworn undying love to one multi-tiered chocolate cake, two friendly corgi-poodle mixes, Zayn’s hair, and the entire population of Los Angeles. So well, Zayn had only laughed and ruffled Niall’s hair and not even twitched towards a cigarette. So well, nearly everyone had spilled far past the boundaries of the night’s original plans, extracting bottles of vodka from the cabinets and losing a lot of clothes. Harry had proclaimed that he was finally going to throw a small and very grownup dinner party and of course here they were three hours later, fifty people half-naked in the pool. Soon to be full-naked, if Louis had to guess. Everybody in LA loved a heated pool. Everybody loved Harry.

9) Captain Cupid | Not Rated | 15,331 words

“Right,” Niall started, finally getting the opportunity to unleash his horrible plan. “Well, as you both know, I’m an excellent matchmaker. A human Cupid. The best of the best at finding one's mate. And I’ve decided it’s time to make money doing it.” “Oh, God no,” Louis groaned, picking up his empty plate and placing it in the sink. He needed to escape as quickly as possible. Or the one where Niall enlists his friends to help start a speed dating side hustle. Things don't go as planned... or maybe they do?

10) Your Touch Is The Only Thing I Feel | Mature | 15,979 words

Liam. Liam was finally here. Louis kept his eyes closed and cuddled farther into Liam’s side, revelling in the pheromones Louis’ body desperately needed. He wasn’t sure how long Liam had been holding him, but Louis figured it had to have been at least an hour by the way his body had loosened. The need of an alpha’s touch seemed to have been temporarily lifted from his mind. Louis listened to the sounds of the pub around him. It was louder than before he had fallen asleep and he briefly wondered why Liam hadn’t just woken him to go back to their flat. “Who the fuck are you?” Louis’ eyes flew open at the sound of Niall’s voice, and the arm that had been around Louis shoulders lifted in the same instant. He missed the warmth immediately. Louis looked from Niall’s stormy face over to the person who was definitely not Liam. The alpha Liam impersonator, who smelled a lot better than the actual Liam now that Louis was alert, looked back at Louis with wide eyes and familiar furrowed brows.

11) Etched In Salt (Is A Cathedral Of The World) | Explicit | 24,417 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

Louis asks for very few things in life, and they are: to solve cases, to keep bad people from doing their bad things, to get good coffee, to go home to a spacious apartment with nobody else in it, and to manage his stupid telempathy powers with minimal interference. And now he's stuck in a tiny cabin in a snowstorm in the middle of god-awful-nowhere with Harry Styles. Because of course he is. Louis asks for very few things in life, and they are: to solve cases, to keep bad people from doing their bad things, to get good coffee, to go home to a spacious apartment with nobody else in it, and to manage his stupid telempathy powers with minimal interference. And now he's stuck in a tiny cabin in a snowstorm in the middle of god-awful-nowhere with Harry Styles. Because of course he is.

12) You Go Undercover (You Cross Your Fingers) | Explicit | 25,815 words

Louis didn’t think that motherhood would be easy, but he certainly wasn’t prepared for just how challenging it would be. He also wasn't prepared for a certain alpha called Harry appearing each time he needs help until accepting is no longer a difficult thing to do.

13) Dont Know Its Lost Til You Find It | Explicit | 30,614 words

Maybe it’ll be better this way. Maybe Louis just needs to distance himself, get over his crush so Harry doesn’t have to worry about his obsessive friend who feels too much and says too little. He wonders what this girl is like. What she looks like, what conversations they had to make Harry fall for her in three days. If maybe she’s just stellar in bed. If she smells like heaven or if it’s just the fact she’s a girl. He wonders and wonders, resists the temptation to stare at the alpha, and gets exactly no work done.

14) Compass To My Soul | Teen & Up | 31,439 words

Harry Styles, alpha, is 1/4 of the perfect pack, and 1/5 of world famous boy band One Direction. He spends his time touring the world with his best friends and family. Louis Tomlinson, omega, is 1/5 of world famous boy band One Direction. He spends his time hoping his bandmates don’t notice him.

15) Here, And Where You Are. | General Audiences | 32,852 words

In a world where astrology is real and advanced, Harry finds out that Louis is his soulmate. The catch? Louis’s at the heart of a protest for omega/soulmate rights against the very case Harry is representing at court. Before they pass each other too many times, the universe takes it upon themselves to make them meet.

16) Too Young To Know | Mature | 35,412 words

Louis blinked awake and quickly wiped the tears from his eyes. This was the second morning in a row he had woken up after dreaming about Harry. “Babe, what’s wrong?” Eric asked as he held Louis tighter in his arms. Louis liked being the little spoon, except for when he’d rather be holding someone else. Which were the past two days.

17) Picking Up The Pieces | Explicit | 37,607 words

Louis returns to his hometown for the first time in ten years for his high school reunion and is faced with memories he’s long since tried to forget.

18) Give Me Love | Explicit | 41,041 words

Louis doesn't feel like a good omega, Harry doesn't remember how to be an alpha, and they figure it out together.

19) All I Want For Christmas Is You | Not Rated | 43,248 words

A Christmas AU in which a soft alpha with gorgeous green eyes and an even prettier smile moves into Louis' apartment complex and turns the omega's world upside down during his most favourite time of the year - featuring christmas decorating, christmas markets, cookies in the making, and copious amounts of mulled wine (and kisses).

20) Your Touch Shouldn't Make Me Feel Like This | Explicit | 48,883 words

Uni AU in which Alpha Harry has been in love with his omega friend for the longest time and one motorbike trip to the countryside with Louis made him realize that he could no longer hold back his feelings.

21) Hold On To Your Heart | Explicit | 54,183 words

The Proposal AU, where Louis is the no-nonsense editor in chief of one of the largest publishing houses in the country, and Harry is the unlucky assistant that gets roped into a fake engagement to prevent his boss from being deported. Things don't go as planned.

22) Your Gift is Wasted On Me | Not Rated | 54,472 words

Omega Louis has severe touch deprivation and is averse to touch. But he’s fine. Really. Alpha Harry is the new neighbor who loves to bake cookies and is very curious about the omega across the hall.

23) Lost & Found In Oblivion | Explicit | 74,779 words

Omega Louis decided to hire an alpha for his heat to ease his touch deprivation, but little did he know everything would grow into so much more.

24) Invisible String | Explicit | 84,911 words

Louis swears on his life that that man came out of literal nowhere and he thanks each lucky star for having good breaks in his car. This strange alpha also happens to be the most beautiful being Louis has laid his eyes on. For some unknown reason, the omega feels safe around the alpha. It might seem strange, but you can't always explain why or how things are the way they are. All you can really be sure of is that they happen for a reason. There's a higher power (call it what you want) that knows better and definitely knows more than you do.

25) Saving Symphony Hall | Explicit | 124,766 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to fic #xx on this list. It is also locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.” “Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.” “Wait, what?” Zayn asked. “Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,” “What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand. “I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.” “That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

26) The Longer the Waiting the Sweeter the Kiss (It's Better My Darlin' I Promise You This) | Explicit | 160,589 words

It all started with a letter from his grandmother's Executor of the Estate. His life had been just fine in New York, he'd had a great internship, more friends than he knew what to do with, and a powerful family name to provide a million opportunities for him. But the minute he'd received that letter a desire for more was born. That was how he wound up here, stranded on the side of a dusty old road with a broken down car and a carry-on full of dreams.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[fuckyeahmarxismleninism]

Sales of stolen Palestinian land must be stopped!

Across the United States, demonstrations have been organized against the illegal sale of stolen Palestinian lands. Protesters compare these events to the “Indian Land Sales” that were conducted in the U.S. West.

Many of these protests have been viciously attacked by police and Zionist thugs. That was the case in Los Angeles at the Adas Torah synagogue on June 25. Brutal police attacks against protesters have also occurred in Pikesville, Maryland (just outside Baltimore), and Nassau County, New York (near New York City.)

These sales of stolen land are usually conducted in Jewish neighborhoods, often inside synagogues. Protesters — many of whom are Jewish — make clear that they are demonstrating in solidarity with Palestinians, not attacking Jewish people.

That doesn’t prevent the corporate media and capitalist politicians from smearing these righteous protests as “anti-Jewish.” Arkansas statesman Tom Cotton issued a statement demanding “action from DOJ [Department of Justice] and White House on synagogue attack by pro-Hamas mob.”

[fen-luciel]

The Devil

AnakinXreader

Warnings:slow burn/implicit smut/ a bit of gore at the end

Summary:A love story born amidst the war, with a fallen angel.

[Support the story on Ao3 Here]

One thing I had learned about Anakin Skywalker is that he was always ready to help those in need. Sometimes, I saw it more as a curse, sacrificing himself for others, with a reassuring smile on his face, ready to leap into action.

Many mistook that care for arrogance, but I had always seen beyond it.

The jokes, the gestures, the ways, all a mask to make you feel better even in the worst moments.

He was radiant.

I met him in person purely by chance. I was assigned to the same mission at the last second. I was supposed to leave with other clones to a war zone, but some human traffickers had appeared out of nowhere, taking advantage of the precarious conditions of the planets that survived the separatists' attacks.

The Jedi were being sent everywhere every second, so it was just a coincidence that I was free at that moment.

The first time I saw him, I recognized him immediately, like a bright star in the cold universe, his smile warmed me more than anything.

His former master introduced us. We didn't have much time for pleasantries given the sudden crisis we were about to resolve. We said goodbye to our friends, and with a small platoon, we set off for the last planet that had been marked as a contact point.

He didn't know me, of course. I wasn't particularly famous for great feats in the war or interactive in the more political sphere. I struggled to see myself as a Jedi—I was more of a soldier... more replaceable.

But Anakin didn't make me feel that way.

Soon that evening, lost in deep space while everyone else slept, we started playing cards. He was terrible, winning one game out of ten. By the sixth game, he started losing on purpose, trying to annoy me with stupid questions that he repeated over and over, but I found it hilarious, he was... light.

For a moment, he made me feel like a young girl and not a soldier in war.

Anyway, I couldn't say if something between us started right there, he made it seem natural, as if we had been friends forever, and I adored every second of it.

The problem was that the mission turned out to be much worse than expected—a network of kidnappings and sales of human and alien beings had been created right under our noses without the Order realizing it. What was supposed to be an intervention lasting a couple of weeks turned into a well-organized outpost for more than five months.

The atmosphere was mostly tense during the day. We set traps in wooded areas, devised capture plans, intercepted calls, but above all, we tried to save as many civilians as possible—women, the elderly, children—we never stopped.

At the end of the evening, we were so exhausted that we barely exchanged a few words. Anakin and I had our cots in the same house, the base was hidden among the ruins of a city bombed by the separatists long ago. We had tried to make the place livable as much as possible, but we couldn't afford to attract attention, so we just dusted it off.

The place was stale and suffocating. One of the two windows had been boarded up with wooden planks, the power had gone out along with everything else, and we kept a small dim lantern in the darkest corner to avoid attracting unwanted glances from outside.

I didn't realize that night after night, Anakin moved his sleeping bag slightly closer to mine.

When I noticed, we were barely an arm's length apart. I never said anything, it made me feel less alone.

I slept better at night.

One thing I noticed was the lost look in the void that sometimes froze him on those few evenings when we played at least one game of cards.

He was silent, tense, it usually happened after we saved people. Normally, this should have made us happy, and at least the rest of the team was, but he suddenly got lost in his thoughts, closed in on himself, and didn't talk to me anymore.

"Are you okay?"

Silence.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Silence.

"It went well, right?"

Still silence.

I let it go, finished the game, and lay down, turning my back on him, too proud to admit that I felt rejected.

Rejected by what, I couldn't tell.

It was precisely on one of those alcohol-fueled evenings that the turning point happened. We had returned exhausted from a mission that had allowed us to save at least a hundred lives. We celebrated with some wine stolen from an abandoned house, but Anakin did not show up, and I was too irritated by his isolation to go knock on our door.

We drank late into the night. I returned to the little house with my mind slightly foggy. Anakin had turned off the light and was already asleep. I took off my clothes with some difficulty before slipping under the duvet, ready to fall asleep, but a warm arm silently snaked around my waist, "I'm sorry." he whispered in a hoarse voice.

I realized he had been crying.

I bit my lip, afraid to dare too much, the alcohol was confusing my senses, his touch so light yet intimate, to which I was not accustomed... so I just told him I wasn't angry, that I forgave him.

I slept divinely, but the next morning we said nothing about what had happened.

A few days later, he pretended to casually end up close to my body before wrapping an arm around my waist before sleeping. So we started lying in each other's arms, seeking a bit of warmth and comfort. I kept telling myself it was normal in our situation, the war was wearing us down, and we needed contact... I needed his contact.

As the months went by, I noticed that something was off about the perfect figure of the Chosen One.

His sudden mood swings, the strange talks... the hatred.

The hatred I saw in his eyes when we captured the gang members.

The visceral rage.

I had met killers with a less menacing air.

Of course, no one was perfect, and being a Jedi meant fighting the dark side every day, but from a figure like his, something different was expected, more like a flawless and fearless hero, yet he seemed the most fragile of all.

I thought that maybe power like his had a great burden on the other side of the balance and stopped doubting his faith.

It was around the third month that the turning point happened.

I had been injured on my side, the burn made me wince with every movement. Bandaged and treated, I was forced to stay in bed to rest for a few days.

Anakin was deathly silent as he caressed my bandaged side, his body lying behind mine, head resting on his hand and free fingers gently brushing against me. I could feel him thinking with his eyes closed.

"I'm okay," I murmured softly so as not to break the silence.

He exhaled slowly, moving closer, pressing his chest against my back. "If I had been there, it wouldn't have happened."

I shivered, feeling the breath behind my ear, his hoarse voice cradling me, making me feel warm... safe.

"We're both knights. I can take care of myself." I was almost on the verge of falling asleep, but I held on to reply. I didn't like knowing he was lost in thought on his own; his face darkened when it happened.

He leaned down to kiss my bare shoulder, I held back from commenting, it seemed that every step we took together was a slow descent on a path with no return. I should have told him not to do it, to stop, but... that warmth in my chest made me feel alive.

"I know. I'm not saying you need me, I know you can take care of yourself." he sighed heavily before placing another kiss on the skin slightly higher than the previous one. "It's just that when you protect others, it seems like you don't care about yourself. I want to be there for you."

That warm, dense feeling growing in my stomach.

I turned slightly to look at him, we were so close that our noses almost touched.

"I have given my life to the Jedi cause. The good of others comes before mine." I reached out to gently stroke his cheek, he leaned into the touch. The faint orange light illuminated the side of his face, looking at me with such intensity that my heart trembled.

"Then I'll take care of you."

Our lips almost touched, I didn't even notice that his hand had slightly moved my shirt up, the tips of his fingers burning on my bare skin.

I wish I could say something romantic like "I don't know if I got closer first or he did, maybe we came together" or similar, but it would have been a shameful lie.

I was the one to throw myself on his lips.

I realized while we were locked in a slow kiss that he had me wrapped around his finger from the moment I met him months earlier.

All the admiration, the respect, was nothing compared to what I felt looking at him, not as a Jedi or a hero, but as a man.

The blond curls, the chiseled physique, the sharp features, the defined jawline, the deep eyes, his skin, his scent, it was everything.

He got under your skin, and you wanted more.

I wanted more.

He took his hand off my side to stroke my cheek, our faces pressed together as we shared the same air. I had no prior experience with kisses, yet he made it seem natural. I just had to follow the trail of his lips on mine, the light bites, the tongue in my mouth.

"I need you." he whispered on my skin before kissing my neck, leaving wet marks. I trembled weakly from the wounds and his touch, holding back sighs and moans as he opened my robe, his body covering mine, the moonlight illuminating his sculpted muscles.

I had no regrets the next morning.

I knew what had happened was dangerous, forbidden, but when he got dressed next to me in the early morning light, I couldn't help but admire his golden skin, still wanting.

He gave me a kiss on the forehead, told me to rest, and left, giving me one of those breathtaking smiles.

No, I didn't regret anything.

When they allowed me to go back into action, everything seemed to have returned to normal.

Except in the evening, when those masks of indifference we wore fell away, and we found ourselves in each other's arms: the kisses, the touches, the breaths we shared.

But above all, the looks.

Sometimes tears welled up in my eyes when he held me to his chest, that feeling that tightened my throat, it was so beautiful it hurt, and he devoured me with the intensity of a thousand suns. I burned under that gaze; he held me tight, leaving bruises on my skin, and for a moment, I... I saw him.

I saw him, without his masks, without the lies he used to protect himself, and something deep in my conscience screamed a warning at me.

Flashes of that hatred I'd seen in him crossed my mind, the anger, a visceral contempt, sometimes arrogant. That deep look was more revealing than a thousand words, and instinct told me to look, to see how far that abyss went, but I was terrified, not for him, but for me.

If I found a beast hidden in the darkness, what would I do?

No, I didn't want to think about it. Every time I lost myself in the tangle of our bodies, I would look away, maybe close my eyes or hide my face in his neck, anything to avoid looking... to avoid looking at him.

I realized my mistake when it was too late to turn back.

We were nearing the end of the conflict, the majority of the population had been brought to safety, many criminals captured or fallen in battle. It was a great result, except that all this pressure made the few remaining who were resisting us increasingly nervous and daring, as if they didn't care if they would die in the shootout, the important thing was to do as much damage as possible, as if on a whim.

The last month, in particular, was a real trench war. Only a handful of slavers remained to be stopped, but they had barricaded themselves inside the abandoned Senate building with the last hostages, of course, the easiest ones to drag along, the children.

The place had been fortified for some time, and even though we had a map, we couldn't know where they were keeping the hostages or, worse, if they had already killed them, keeping up the façade just to buy time.

We hypothesized every kind of plan, but none gave us the certainty of getting the hostages back. It would have been easy to bomb the area at this point, they were so dangerous that the Republic wouldn't have mourned their loss. We had also thought of isolating them until they came out from exhaustion and hunger, but again, if there really were those children, they would have been the first to suffer.

After two days of discarded plans, I tried everything.

"Let's go back to the first hypothesis. I'll make my way through the breach in the ceiling, look for the hostages, and send you a signal when I have them safe." We were all gathered around the building's holographic map. Next to me, Anakin huffed, "Don't even think about it. I'll go instead."

I sighed, smiling weakly "No offense, General Skywalker, but you're not particularly good at crawling along corridors." The remark drew a laugh from all the clones around us, who agreed with me, but Anakin wasn't laughing at all.

"I don't want you going in there alone, it's too much, even for a Jedi. They're waiting for us, they'll have set traps—" He started, waving his hand over the table, but I interrupted him. "They definitely have. But it's our best option. It's decided."

I didn't wait for a reply, knowing he could argue with me all day if necessary. I kept myself busy organizing the troops for that evening. Anakin moved tensely through the camp, ready to spring into action at the slightest sign. I knew he wasn't happy with that choice at all, but I wouldn't back down.

We left late in the evening; by then, I knew the map by heart. The building had three floors and a basement; all the side windows were barred, so it was impossible to tell where the children were. I would descend from the skylight above the chamber of deputies and from there explore each floor from top to bottom until I found the hostages... or their remains in the worst-case scenario.

The first part of the plan was fairly simple, but as soon as I stepped inside, I noticed something strange. Patrolling the corridors were droids built from makeshift materials, fragile-looking, yes, but armed.

I had to turn off the radio for fear of receiving a call at the wrong moment. I needed to check every room and descend a level until I was sure no one was there, and deactivating the droids would work against me since they would realize someone had entered.

On the ground floor, I saw the men who were left, all sitting around an old board game, looking either drunk or on the verge of falling asleep. I managed to send a brief message before heading to the basement.

Some walls had partially collapsed, and the narrow corridors made it difficult to move stealthily, but I stayed alert, ready to spring into action. I reached the end where I knew the vault that held the most important documents and money was located. It was a room large enough to hold more than one person, and at this point, it was my only chance.

The dim light in the room wasn’t much, but I finally saw it, the heavy metal door sealing the vault.

I knocked on the surface, hoping to get a response, and to my joy, I heard frightened gasps. I called out, hoping they could hear me; on the other hand, I could only make out vague murmurs, but when they started banging on the wall from the other side, I had no doubt it was them.

I ignited the lightsaber to begin cutting a hole in the surface, quickly warning them to move away, hoping they understood what I was saying, and very slowly, I began to cut through the metal.

It all happened in a moment. I felt it in my gut before I even heard the sound, I spun around, deflecting a shot aimed at me.

In front of me, one of those men, accompanied by three droids, pointed their weapons at me. I was at a disadvantage, given the tight space in which I had to defend myself. I parried more shots before inevitably losing the rhythm. I didn’t see where I was hit, but I felt it on my skin—the burning sensation spreading like an oil stain, the throbbing pain, and finally, my heavy fall to the ground.

When I turned to face him, something was thrown at me, a disturbing click around my neck made me flinch.

"Finally," the man approached me menacingly. I got up quickly to defend myself, but suddenly, an electric shock coursed through my body, knocking me back to the ground. I screamed in surprise as I tried in vain to tear off the collar.

"Don’t try it, Jedi, not even you can get rid of these."

I lay on the ground, breathless, my hands trembling uncontrollably, and a dull ache in my bones.

"You have no chance..." I panted in pain, moving my arm near the pocket where I kept the communicator, slowly activating it.

However, the movement caught his attention, and I was forcefully shoved to the ground, the device falling a few meters away from me as the man reactivated the shock.

I thrashed on the ground in jerky movements, keeping my mouth shut for fear of biting my tongue as I tried to crawl towards the communicator, a ringing in my ears.

"Bitch!" The shock stopped, but I had no time to recover before a kick hit me in the stomach, knocking out the little breath I had left. He bent over my body, gripping my hands around my neck. I wanted to push him away, but my fingers were still trembling uncontrollably. "I don’t need to keep you awake to use you as a bargaining chip. I’ll make you regret what you put us through!"

I kicked uselessly, my head feeling heavy, and my vision darkening, my lungs struggling for air. I tried to claw at his wrists, but I was losing strength.

It was when I was on the verge of passing out that something suddenly pushed him away from me.

I coughed forcefully, gasping for air. I turned onto my hands and knees, trembling and still unable to stand. I didn't understand what was happening, but I was glad to feel my fingertips again.

I coughed a few more times when I noticed something was off—or rather, something strange was happening next to me, judging by the sound I heard.

Like... something wet, an eerie crunching sound that I couldn't quite place.

I turned, finally more clear-headed, and almost had a heart attack.

Anakin was there—I figured he had used the Force to push the man away from me—but what I saw in front of me was worse than anything I had ever experienced.

I saw him with his back to me, crouched over the man's body... which wasn't moving anymore.

I crawled toward them, reaching out a hand to his shoulder, trying to shake him. "Anakin, leave him, we need to open the door—" and then I saw them more clearly.

He had pushed his thumbs into the man's eyes, which disappeared up to the knuckles in the sockets as he gripped the sides of his face. There was blood everywhere—it was dripping from the eye sockets, the mouth, even the back of his head, which was being slammed into the floor that slowly stained a bright red. I swear I saw his skull unnaturally crushed.

The air left my lungs, a wave of nausea rising in my throat that I held back at the last second.

"Please, let him go, A-Anakin, p-please—" I stammered as I clung to his arm, trying in vain to pull him away. I gripped the front of his tunic, but he seemed immovable.

"Anakin, I'm fine, let him go, please, y-you've killed him—" I cried, tears falling before I even realized.

He finally released his grip, letting the man's head fall into the pool of blood with a wet thud. He turned to look at me, and I instinctively tried to back away, frightened, falling onto my backside because my knees were still weak. I couldn’t look away, but now I saw it as clear as day—that monster he hid inside, that flame I had glimpsed when he was angry, or when we made love, and those languid eyes would light up with a sinister, almost possessive glow.

Now I saw it in its rawest form and could no longer pretend I hadn't. The metallic scent of blood filled my nostrils, making my eyes sting.

"Anakin—" I whispered, raising a hand, not sure whether to reach for him or keep my distance.

"My love." He came toward me as if everything was normal, his face worried, relieved to see me mostly unharmed. He brushed the collar with a hand, a spark of anger flashing as fast as a blink. "The others are coming, we’ll get this thing off you," he murmured, then gently took my face in his hands, the blood staining my skin and dripping in tiny crimson drops down my neck. I was shaking like a leaf but didn’t know what to say.

I knew what he was.

I knew it, but I had underestimated it, in fact, I had lied to myself, ignoring all the warnings. Yet I wondered how it was possible that no one had noticed before.

Or maybe they had all been blinded by the same light?

By that warm smile.

Never getting too close and risking harm.

But I had been drawn to the light like a moth, and now, indeed, I was burning alive.

And it was too late to run away.

I was complicit in that fire, which I had fed every night with every kiss, touch, or whisper.

How could I turn my back on him now?

It was also my fault.

He leaned over me, the hand I had raised now resting on his chest, the heartbeat too steady for someone who had just crushed a human skull with his bare hands.

"Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you." A whisper on my lips, I wanted to say it was impossible, that he couldn’t save me from himself, that it was him I feared so much, but it was too late.

He kissed me, his lips tasting of death and blood, the light that blinded me now an shadow that devoured me.

It was too late.

I loved him.

I realized it when I closed my eyes to meet him. I would have kept his secret, I would have protected him until my last breath.

Till death do us part.

[eretzyisrael]

by Jacob Frankel

In the days leading up to the event, Queens Shmira – a Jewish neighborhood safety group – announced that the real-estate sale had been moved to a different venue. According to a statement from Queens Shmira, the venue “has since changed to accommodate a larger audience and will NOT be taking place at Congregation Charm Circle.”

“The protesters’ intention is to intimidate and we will not be intimidated,” the statement added.

Although the event had been moved to a different location, on Sunday anti-Israel protesters nonetheless descended on Congregation Charm Circle, where they were videoed calling for an intifada against Jews and waving Hezbollah flags. Hezbollah, an Iran-backed terrorist organization based in Lebanon, has been launching rockets, drones, and missiles at northern Israel daily as Israeli forces simultaneously battle the Palestinian terrorist group Hamas to the south in Gaza.

In response, counter-protesters waved Israeli flags and called for the release of the roughly 120 hostages still being held by terrorists in Gaza since Oct. 7.

The protest spilled over to a nearby basketball court, where pro-Palestinian demonstrators could be seen shoving the counter-protesters. The New York City Police Department (NYPD) attempted to de-escalate the situation, but there were no reports of arrests being made.

Local politicians took to X/Twitter to express outrage over the anti-Israel protests targeting a synagogue.

“The event changed venues but the protesters didn’t care, harassing Jews for the crime of going to pray,” New York State Assemblymember Sam Berger, who represents Kew Garden Hills, wrote on X/Twitter.

US Rep. Grace Meng (D-NY), who also represents Kew Garden Hills, condemned the demonstration on social media.

“The events that took place outside of Congregation Charm Circle in Kew Gardens Hills are deeply concerning,” she posted. “Harassing people outside of their house of worship is unacceptable. While everyone in the US has the right to protest, there is no place for hate, violence, & antisemitism.”

The protest at Congregation Charm Circle come only four weeks after the violent anti-Israel demonstration outside of Adas Torah synagogue in the heavily-Jewish Pico-Robertson area of Los Angeles.

[realtyhubph-blog]

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[serpentinesheldonserpentine]

Raised on Radio

An old friend spoke about concerts we saw growing up and how music then still lived in what I call regional popularity pockets. In the 60’s I surely heard music that Carolinians called Beach Music , but I didn't know it as such.

But more than regional genre names, I am writing about the bands. Seems in the 70’s-80’s each decent size city had “their” band. For us, it was Springsteen. Make no mistake he was selling out college auditoriums when the Beautiful People were begging Mark Beneke to let them into 54. Bruce was too ‘Jersey’, too Bridge & Tunnel crowd. I get it. Just don't try to claim him now. Springsteen was huge in Philadelphia and for some reason, in Phoenix.

Similarly prog bands. Philly loved prog rock; Yes, ELP, and Genesis sold out multiple nights at our ice arena when sales were slim elsewhere.

Little Feat were time loved heroes in Baltimore and Washington and pretty much nowhere else.

Boston had the J. Geils Band. They woulda been the Stones if they coulda written a decent song on their own. As it was, they were the best live act of the post STP Tour 1970’s and I will fight any man who disagrees.

Pittsburgh had the Iron City House Rockers. Ohio had Michael Stanley, and other rocking bands who never completely broke through. DEVO doesn't really count. The Bob Seger System came from Detroit and hard working Bob broke through.

I also remember the astounding 1980’s success of Depeche Mode in Los Angeles- and Salt Lake City. D’mode sold about 2,000 tickets in Nashville and then sold out the 70,000 seat Rose Bowl in Pasadena.

Was this the power of radio playlists? Payola? Something else? I went to LA a few times in the 80’s and KROQ was all Depeche , all the time.

How about your town? If you were listening in the 70’s and 80’s, who were the local heroes who never broke through? Who were the national acts that were strangely popular in your city and unknown elsewhere?

Drop a comment, wouldya?

[themoongirls12]

240620 | fromm_store twitter post ✨️

[#CHUU] 2024 CHUU FAN-CON [Strawberry Rush] in AMERICAS

#KKOTI, are you ready to Rush with @/chuu_atrp ?!

CHUU is coming to Americas!

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7/17 - Los Angeles, CA / The Orpheum Theatre

7/19 - San Francisco, CA / Palace of Fine Arts

7/21 - Tacoma, WA / Pantages Theater

7/24 - Phoenix, AZ / The Van Buren

7/26 - Dallas, TX / House of Blues

7/28 - New Orleans, LA / The Fillmore

7/31 - Detroit, MI / The Fillmore

8/03 - Indianapolis, IN / Egyptian Room at Old National Centre

8/05 - New York,NY / The Town Hall

8/07 - Santiago, CHILE / Teatro Cúpula

8/10 - São Paulo, BRAZIL / Studio stage

8/13 - Mexico City, MEXICO / Foro Puebla

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June 21, 9am (PT) / 11am (CT) / 12pm (ET)

🎟VIP PACKAGE Sales

June 24, 7pm (PT) / 9pm (CT) / 10pm (ET)

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[vintagelasvegas]

Westside School (1923) – 330 W Washington Ave. Oldest surviving school house in Las Vegas.

This was the second school house in Las Vegas when it opened as Branch No. 1, Las Vegas Grammar School, in September 1923, for kindergarten through 8th grade. Las Vegas schools were integrated in the 1920s. In the 30s & 40s, segregationist barriers rose in the public and private sector, including racially restrictive covenants to added to deeds, and the City's refusal to renew licenses of African American-owned businesses downtown unless owners moved to the Westside. Segregation in public education increased as a result, as elementary schools on the Westside filled with African American children whose families were restricted from living in other Las Vegas neighborhoods.

The school is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, and was completely renovated in 2015/2016 by KME Architects. 

Timeline of Westside School:

• '23: Original building, two rooms. Allison & Allison of Los Angeles, architect.  • '28: Original building expanded with two additional rooms.  • '46: Las Vegas School District's first African American teacher, Mabel Hoggard at Westside School.  • '48: Annex building addition, west side of the parcel, eight classrooms and administration office. A.L. Worswick, Las Vegas, architect.  • '55/56: Clark County School District (CCSD) formed. • '60: a one-room addition constructed on the east end of the north wing of the building  • '67: Closed as a school house.  • '74: School Board of Trustees sale of the school to Economic Opportunity Board of Clark County (EOD).  • '77: Renovation to accommodate offices of EOD and radio station KCEP. 

Photo by Dave Chawla, via Saving Places. Sources: “Old Town People Petition for Branch Grammar School.” Las Vegas Age, 2/11/22; “Las Vegas Public School Block a Credit to the City,” Las Vegas Age, 12/30/22; E. Moehring, Resort City in the Sunbelt, Las Vegas (UNLV Press, '89); C. White. “The March That Never Happened.” Nevada Law Journal, Vol. 5, Fall 2004; B. Williams, T. Harris. Westside School Alumni Stories (2012); National Register of Historic Places. Las Vegas Grammar School. Las Vegas, Clark County, Nevada. National Register (2015).

[zorilleerrant]

For Sale

@flashfictionfridayofficial

There’s something familiar about the house, even though there shouldn’t be. None of us have even studied this era in depth, as far as I know – the angel and demon might have, but they don’t seem to have followed us here. They might not be allowed to. I’ve never been to this city. If anyone else has, they haven’t said. All the same, it’s on the tip of my tongue, and looking around isn’t resolving the déjà vu even slightly.

The vision comes to me the way they all have, so far, vertigo and irritation. The smell of decay – the gentler, earthy kind – and settled dust. Broken stairs and faded paint and no electricity. No running water, but a drip always just the next room over nonetheless. A tablecloth, picnicware to brighten up the place, and everyone – almost everyone – laughing. Sharing a meal together.

I blink and the house goes back to normal, or as normal as a house like this can be when it’s not a museum. It smells like latex paint and some sort of chemical cleaner. They’ve given up on it, from the state of the yard and the sign in it, but everything still looks bright and neat and new. No furniture. I guess that comes later, if at all.

The stairs are in good repair, and somehow look less stately for it. The lights flicker on. I walk upstairs to see if there’s anything else we should look out for, animals or problems or clues, but it’s just more of the same. Empty rooms in different colors and the stifling smell of historical paint trapped inside.

It’s not a good time to be selling homes, anyway. Especially not here. Least popular mayor in history, some say, but I still think that was mostly the asteroid.

I mean, I’m not looking forward to the witch trials. But they wouldn’t have happened if no one was.

When I get back downstairs, there’s soup on the stove. We’re going to have to find real furniture somewhere, but someone’s found folding chairs and a rickety table in one of the closets, and that’s close enough for dinner.

I glance at the stove, and the soup changes. Shit. I can’t tell which version is real. I guess I’ll know when I taste it.

The Major’s set up all our sleeping bags in the living room, and I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear it. The rooms upstairs all give me the creeps. It’s something about the shape of the windows, I think, or the sound of the ventilation, like the special lights they install that play sound effects in the reproductions. I don’t think anyone did anything special here. I think they’re just like that.

Probably I should be relieved she had sleeping bags for all of us, but I guess the military’s nothing if not prepared. Probably I should be relieved one of us is a nervous cook. Probably I should be relieved most of us are adults, and the kids are old enough to pass for one, with enough confidence.

Probably I should be relieved there are so many homes standing empty on this side of town, but that just makes me depressed again. I think my family came from here, way back when. I think if I went to talk to them they’d let me see the lost codices, they’d let me touch the amulets and stir the family recipes. The ones that stayed, anyway. I don’t know why they stayed when they could see what’s coming. I don’t want to.

None of us want to. Someone’s literally started taping photos to the walls.

I think the terms of the prophecy trap us here, but I’m not an expert, and I’m willing to look for one, if anybody knows safe channels for it. Maybe there’s just someone we have to meet, or something we have to get, or something we have to know, or witness, or learn. Maybe we can go back home before, well, before the asteroid, at least, if not earlier.

The windows are so thick, and not quite clear, and yet the cold radiates off of them, like they’re no protection from the wind outside. I can hear it pick up through the trees. Everyone else huddles closer to the inside of the house, away from the walls, towards the dubious warmth of the kitchen. How did people heat their houses? Naked fires, indoors?

A dog yips behind me, and I almost catch a glimpse as I turn, but it fades too fast for me to even catch whose dog it was. Will be. Probably the hacker’s again, like I promised. Too much to hope we got slung back in time just to meet a familiar.

I feel like we should have had a historian on the team. I feel like this was large enough we should have one. What are we doing if none of us know shit about history and all of us are trying to remember lessons from grade school about things most of us had no reason to care about and I, at least, already knew were wrong anyway? I don’t even know where to get food once we get through whatever’s stocked in the cupboards.

Are we going to have to hunt it ourselves?