#apartments near Beverly hills

[new-los-angeles-ca]

An Alluring Neighborhood

Croft Avenue is a charming, tree-lined street in the Beverly Grove, Los Angeles, California neighborhood. It is known for its picturesque beauty, characterized by a canopy of mature trees that line the street. The area primarily consists of residential properties, including single-family homes, townhouses, and apartments. If you're looking for luxury apartments in Los Angeles close to this neighborhood, visit The Alfred. Their luxury units span 1,609 to 3,098 square feet, and they offer one- to three-bedroom layouts with main-level patios or elevated terraces. They are designed with floor-to-ceiling windows, bringing abundant natural light into the room and providing uninterrupted views of the surrounding environment.

The Climate in Los Angeles, California

Los Angeles experiences relatively mild temperatures throughout the year. Winters are generally mild, with average high temperatures in the 60s to low 70s Fahrenheit and cooler nights. Summers are warm to hot, with average high temperatures in the 80s to low 90s Fahrenheit and occasional heatwaves pushing temperatures into the 100s Fahrenheit. The city receives an average annual rainfall of about 15 inches, typically during winter. Los Angeles and its surrounding areas are prone to droughts, particularly during periods of below-average rainfall. Drought conditions can increase the risk of wildfires, a recurring threat to the region, especially in the hills and canyons.

The Getty in Los Angeles, CA

"The Getty" typically refers to the J. Paul Getty Museum. There are two locations associated with it. The Getty Center is the main campus known for its stunning architecture, beautiful gardens, and extensive art collection. It houses European paintings, sculptures, decorative arts, manuscripts, photographs, and more. It also features changing exhibitions and hosts various educational programs and events. The Getty Villa is a separate Pacific Palisades facility near Malibu. It is modeled after an ancient Roman villa and focuses on art and artifacts from ancient Greece, Rome, and Etruria. You can find many antiquities here, including sculptures, ceramics, mosaics, and ancient manuscripts. It is designed to resemble an old Roman estate with gardens and courtyards.

The Effect of El Niño on Southern California

El Niño is a climate pattern that occurs irregularly in the tropical Pacific Ocean. It can cause shifts in atmospheric circulation, leading to changes in weather patterns worldwide. It often brings increased rainfall to the western coasts of North and South America, including California and Peru, while reducing rainfall in Southeast Asia and Australia. This can result in droughts, floods, and altered seasonal precipitation patterns. The exact triggers and mechanisms behind El Niño events are still the subject of ongoing research. Scientists use various climate models and observational data to study and predict El Niño occurrences, contributing to our understanding of this complex phenomenon. Click here to read more.

Link to Map

Driving Direction

The Getty

1200 Getty Center Dr, Los Angeles, CA 90049, United States

Head north on Getty Center Dr toward N Sepulveda Blvd

1 min (0.1 mi)

Take Sunset Blvd to Waring Ave

24 min (8.1 mi)

Continue on Waring Ave. Drive to N Croft Ave

1 min (0.2 mi)

The Alfred

725 N Croft Ave, 

Los Angeles, CA 90069, United States

[rustedhearts]

just friends (again) (roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: you’ve convinced everyone around you that you and steve are just friends. now you just have to convince yourself—but it proves difficult when steve finally admits how he feels.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ just friends (part one) ✶ the library

tags: pining, yearning, they want each other so bad they're so stupid, little angst/hurt/comfort, oh steve harrington the man that you are. didn't proofread so ignore any mistakes oops.

buy me a ko-fi! (my blurb commissions are also still open!)

“I’m having a little carpet picnic.”

Julia Roberts’ voice filled the living room with a familiar warmth. The pinks and whites of the Beverly Hills hotel room from Pretty Woman coated the couch and the surface of your face with a gentle glow. The Chinese food you ordered a few hours ago was starting to stink. Even Ted, who was curled at your feet for most of your movie marathon, could no longer stand the vegetative life and scampered away.

It had been a week since Eddie broke things off. After Steve punched him, you spent the Sunday post-knockout calling and texting, hoping to sort things out. But Eddie never picked up. Eddie never replied. You figured stopping by the shop was a bit too far—if he wanted to talk to you, he would’ve by now.

So here you were, spending another weekend on the couch. Single. Broke. Lonely.

“He thought I was cheating on him,” is the excuse you have for getting dumped.

But the look on Theresa’s face when you told her is the first time it made you recoil. The first time you doubted that Eddie was 100%, entirely out of his mind.

Theresa winced into the overpriced lattes you were drinking at a curbside patio on Wednesday. “Well…I mean…”

And you gasped, mouth agape and heart hammering in your chest. What the fuck did that mean? Because you were just friends. All Steve ever was and is: your best friend. Why did everyone act like you were having a secret affair when the doors were closed on the public?

“You’ve gotta be kidding me—“

“I’m not defending the prick,” Theresa justified. “He was an asshole for talking to you like that. But I can see why he might have thought that. You and Steve are really close. Like…very close.”

“We’re friends,” you insisted.

And Theresa dropped it, holding her hands above her latte with innocent agreement. But her words haunted you the entire week. Every time Steve filled your coffee and had it ready on the counter for your commute to work (he even used your favorite travel mug). Every time he came home with a bag of peanut m&ms when he dropped by the store because it was the little treat you always asked for, but he didn’t even need to be asked anymore.

But like any other Saturday, the apartment was void of him for most of the day. He mumbled some excuse about going to the mall through your door this morning, and when he came home twenty minutes into Pretty Woman with an Abercrombie shopping bag, you knew he’d been date shopping.

“Hey,” he called to you, door clamping closed behind him. His keys jingled on their toss toward the table cluttered with half-opened mail.

Cheek squished against a throw pillow, body splayed flat on the couch, you cut him a glance sideways and adjusted the volume. “Hey.”

Steve kicked off his shoes and set his bag near the door, making your chest tighten when he immediately sauntered toward the couch. He turned to the tv with his hands on his hips.

He asked what he always asked, despite his eyes watching the very thing. “Watchya watchin’?”

“Pretty Woman.”

“Did you already watch Mystic Pizza?”

“Yep.”

Steve sighed. “Damn. Alright, well, scooch over.”

When he plucked your feet up and flopped down under them, he smelled like the sickeningly sweet butter of a soft pretzel, and the overwhelming stench of Abercrombie & Fitch. You couldn’t believe he still shopped there.

His hands were still resting on your ankles, bracing your feet against his jean-clad thighs. His touch was warm, soft, all-encompassing—and suddenly all you could think about even as Richard Gere came on screen. Steve's touch, his heat, the body those hands came attached to resting just inches away. He was wearing blue today. He looked so good in blue.

You swallowed and coughed, cheek rubbing on the pillow. Steve’s finger twitched around your calf.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you croaked.

His eyes bored into you for a moment before he turned back to Julia Roberts. "Notting Hill or My Best Friend's Wedding after this?"

Your lips parted to reply, but then his finger began tracing shapes into the patch of skin between the bottom of your pant leg and the elastic of your sock. Air choked in your throat. Your eyes bulged on the glowing television screen. The muscles in the center of your body knotted and squeezed like nausea.

In your stock-still state, it didn't even occur to you that Steve somehow knew your entire I'm-sad-and-can-only-watch-Julia-Roberts-movies marathon setlist, but it certainly crossed your mind later on. You and Steve are really close. Maybe Theresa had a point.

"Um..." Your tongue darted out to lick your suddenly-dry lips.

"You good over there?" Steve chuckled, head tipping to gauge the features and their current predicament on your face.

You buried it further into the pillow, as far as it could go without hiding completely. "Yes, Steve, I'm fine."

Steve pulled back, settling into the couch again. "Jeez, oh-kay."

He waited a moment, and you inched free from your pillow enough to bring your eye back to the television, doing your best to focus on the movie you'd seen a million times and not Steve's hand sweeping under your pant leg. He'd done that a million times, too. Touched you. Felt you.

He held your hand when you crossed the road like a child that needed guidance. He braced your back to move you which way he wanted, and to pull you close when public situational occurrences arose that made him uncomfortable. He brushed your hair once when you were victim to an ungodly illness that had you picturing death. He removed your makeup on your birthday last year when you got so drunk you puked in the doorway.

His hands were always so gentle. His touch was always so soft.

But, God, why did it feel so different right now? Why did it feel so good?

"Want a mall haul?" Steve asked, too uncomfortable in the sudden silence of the living room. He was already standing and placing your feet back on their own before you could reply.

In your periphery, he headed toward the door to retrieve the bags he neglected. "Got a couple shirts to try. Also, am I too old for that store? I swear, everyone in there was like a little Taylor Lautner wannabe from 2012—meaning they were fourteen and on steroids—"

"Steve!"

He stopped. Standing at the edge of the rug with both hands on the corded handles of his Abercrombie & Fitch shopping bag to pull it open. The snicker gathering in his throat hitched into a snort, smirk drooping into wide-eyed surprise.

You never yelled. Not at him. Not at anyone that didn't deserve it, like the neighbors when they were arguing too loud again and you were trying to nap. Like the guy that tried to steal Steve's package a few months ago that you nearly tackled down the hall.

But never Steve.

You shot up on the couch, hands flying to your pounding head. "Just...please! I don't want a mall haul, I don't want to talk, I just...—I just wanna be alone."

Steve blinked, cheeks colored pink. He closed the bag slowly, paper crinkling as he went. He took it in one hand and backed up, stepping off the rug foot by foot. He glanced at Ted, who skittered in surprise at your outburst and was standing with an arched back and black pupils near the tv stand.

"Uh...yeah, okay. Sorry," he mumbled, scratching at the nape of his neck.

Your shoulders slumped, deflating into the couch as Steve turned his eyes to the floor and tugged at the back of his hair. That stress tick again—the one you hated causing. He turned slowly, caution stiff in his spine. You watched his finger twist and wind into a lock of chestnut hair as he trudged into the hall. His door clamped closed a moment later.

A heavy, moaning sigh shuddered from your mouth as you flopped back on the pillow. Two arms locked over your head, pressing down on your eyes to blind them and the horror you created.

"Slippery little suckers," Julia Roberts snickered on the screen.

"It happens all the time."

✶ ✶

You ate dinner separately. It was the first time you'd ever eaten dinner separately within the same four walls. Even the night you moved in together, when you were nothing but a pair of strangers gauging how weird it might be to live with the opposite sex without something romantic or sexual in the undertones—even then, you ate a greasy cheese pizza together on the living room floor with an empty box as makeshift table.

He asked all the right get-to-know-you questions, and when he successfully made you laugh with all his snarks and quips, you knew Steve Harrington would be an alright roommate. You never figured he'd become your best friend.

Tonight, you pouted into the salad you regretted purchasing yesterday because a "healthy" lifestyle was born and had died within the span of your forty minute shopping trip. And now, you wanted nothing but another wet, shiny pizza, and Steve Harrington's dumb jokes.

He ate in his room. Shuffled out while you were finishing Notting Hill and made another bland chicken-rice-and-broccoli dinner. And then he shuffled past you, shut his door, and ate it alone. Never even giving you a chance to tease his unseasoned plate for the purpose of "gains." You thought he could remain just as toned and handsome with flavor on his food.

By the time you were showered, redressed, and gurgling with lingering hunger, you were properly sour with guilt.

And maybe the black sweatpants with the bedazzled jewels on your ass were pulled on with manipulative purpose before you shuffled to Steve's door. You lingered there a while, gnawing on the skin around your thumbnail and glancing between the wood grain of Steve's door and the plush surface of your yellow slippers. At this proximity, you could hear the low hum of his radio behind the door. He had a strange affection for the 70s and 80s station.

If only you knew that it was because Steve knew "the all time hits of the 70s and 80s" were your favorite.

The radio dimmed, and a moment later Steve's voice called through the door. "I can hear you lingering out there."

You jumped, stepping away from the door. Your thumb returned to your mouth, teeth piercing the skin to nibble it away. The shuffle of feet and jingle of the doorknob came too swiftly for you to evade, and then the door swung open to reveal Steve in grey sweatpants and a tight red t-shirt. He looked good in red, too.

"Oh. Hi," you murmured, hand instantly dropping to your side.

Steve caged the doorway, biceps bulging on either side. You averted your eyes with a swallow.

He sighed. "Hi."

Steve watched you sweep a slippered foot back and forth like sloshing through water. He tipped his head and bit away a smile when he caught the edge of a jewel on your hip. His favorite sweatpants.

"Are you mad at me?"

Steve sighed again, this time a little shaken with laughter. "No, kid. I ain't mad at ya."

To prove his point, he nudged the door open with his palm and motioned toward the bedroom behind him. "Come on in."

You flopped on the edge of his bed, bounced up and down by old springs. Steve swung the door closed and joined you, easing back against his wooden headboard to reassume his rumpled position. He reached toward the nightstand and turned the knob on the radio to lower the Elton John song playing.

Steve snatched the small plastic basketball from behind the radio and tossed it in the air. "So, what's goin' on?"

You watched the ball soar into the air and come back down into his palm. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I was just...cranky."

Steve quirked a brow, catching your eye over an orange blur when he threw the ball again. "Yeah? That all?"

The corners of your mouth pulled down. "Yeah...? What else would it be."

Steve shrugged, chin turned up toward the ceiling as he watched the basketball fly toward it. Elton John died down and switched to Def Leppard. "Hysteria" was one of Steve's favorite songs.

"You tell me. You were having a Julia Roberts marathon."

"So?" Your thumb returned to your mouth, teeth ripping at the skin.

"You only watch Julia Roberts when you're sad."

"Not true."

Steve fixed his head straight again, eyes narrowing into a pointed look. The basketball sat in his right palm against his chest. You huffed, angling yourself toward the door to glare at it instead of your roommate and his smug, all knowing expression.

He waited a while, like he always did—waiting out your stubbornness and refusing to let it break him. You could talk to him, you knew that. He wanted you to know that.

"I guess..." You sighed, throwing yourself back on the bed with your arms locked over your eyes. "I guess I'm just upset that Eddie still hasn't called. I've been calling and texting him, but...he doesn't wanna see me."

Steve immediately felt every blood cell in his body curdle. Like they were burning and festering, irritated under his skin. He swallowed, bringing the basketball to sit between his knees where he could pick at the design with blunt fingernails.

"And you want to see him?"

You dropped your arms, letting them plop to your sides. "I mean...yeah."

Steve couldn't help it—he scoffed.

The sound had your head turning, brows furrowed his way. His head was shaking, eyes focused distinctly downward to avoid yours. All the smugness of his expression dimmed into something distasteful and angry.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Nothing."

"You scoffed."

"I sighed."

"No, you scoffed."

"Well—"

This time, Steve did sigh. He took the basketball in his hands and chucked it toward the door, causing it to boomerang off the wood and catapult back toward the mattress again. The sharp smack had you jolting upward, and your eyes widened on Steve when he hopped from the bed and stood to his feet.

"What the hell—"

"He's not good enough for you!"

You paused on weak wrists used to push you upward. Steve stood a foot away from the bed with pink cheeks and outstretched hands. They curled back toward him to sweep through his hair and tug hard at the roots.

"Steve—"

"He sucks. Alright? All your ex boyfriends sucked, but especially Eddie. He didn't understand you, he didn't appreciate you. He made you cry, for fuck's sake, and you want him back? I just don't get it."

Your lips parted, but it felt like gulping for water on dry land. And Steve watched, helplessly, as you stammered for words in the face of his impending and inevitable confession. Inevitably painful, he knew, but he could no longer stomach the tireless routine of finding the body closest to yours in another dark bar, hoping she would comfort him enough to soothe the ache he had for you.

You, who slept across the hall and shared the sofa with your head on his shoulder. You, who looked at him like some sort of light source with those little round eyes. You, who made his heart pound and weep endlessly every second that you were near, and every moment you were away—leaving him in a constant, centrifugal loop of torture.

So—knowing it might ruin every bit of good the pair of you worked so hard to keep—Steve stepped closer to the bed and swallowed. He prepared himself to form the words he'd practiced a million times over in his head.

"I just figured that eventually...you'd get tired of all the wrong guys, and realize that...I'm here. That it was me, that you loved me. Because I love you—don't you love me?"

He paused, but it would never have been enough time for your mind to process his proclamation. He had a look of such anguish embedded in his features, all scrunched and screwed together with wet, shiny eyes.

"And I figured it was easier to sleep my way around than sit and watch you waste your time with these idiots. But they were never you. And I never bothered to get to know them, because I only wanted to know you."

Your breath hitched when Steve crowded your corner of the bed, hands clasped over his chest. You had to tip your head back to meet his eye, and you felt your arms shake in their locked position holding you up. The sight of him blurred with the onset of your own hot, salty tears.

Steve sniffed: a wet slurp proceeded by a tear slipping down his cheek. He wiped it quickly and sank to his knees before you on the bed, hands coming to cradle your bent knees.

"I just can't take it any longer," he whispered, and his hazel eyes were like shiny coins gazing up at you.

His lips were wet with his own tears. His tongue swept them away. Every breath inhaled rattled in his chest, and every exhale shuddered his cheeks full. He chuckled when he rubbed his palm into his eye and turned it red, sweeping his forearm over his face to clear the tears again but they just kept coming.

"Fuck, say something, please," he huffed, lacing it with laughter despite its absence of humor.

Your throat felt like it swelled to twice the size. Sickness rolled in your stomach. But it only grew at the thought of breaking Steve's heart with your silence. Because the longer he looked at you with those almond eyes, and the longer he sniffled and massaged your knees to comfort himself—the more your heart crumbled.

"I...I don't know what to say," you croaked.

Steve inhaled again, stuttering through a sniffle. He wiped his cheek on your knee and chuckled again. "Yeah. Yeah, of course—it's okay."

"Steve—"

"It's okay," he insisted, scrambling to his feet. He backed away toward the door and you finished pulling yourself upright.

"Steve, wait—"

"Really, it's okay, honey. I'm just gonna...—we ran out of ice cream, so 'm gonna g-go—go get some. Mint chip, yeah? Okay."

He sniffled again upon his exit, slipping through a small crevice he opened the door to. The front door slammed shut moments later, and you rolled onto your stomach to unleash a scream into Steve's mattress.

"Stay tuned for more all time hits of the 70s and 80s!"

✶ ✶

Steve did not return with the mint chip until nearly midnight. It came in a plastic bag that announced his arrival even before the clamber of keys. Yet, it was the squeal of old hinges that woke you from your couch slumber, and you jolted upright as the door swung open.

Steve closed the door and stood there for a moment, spotting you in the dimness of the living room. You rubbed your eye and he shifted on his feet. Ted scampered off the couch and butted at Steve's calf.

He held up the plastic bag. "Got the mint chip. It's uh...it's all melted now, though."

You wanted to reply, to make him feel better again. His eyes were still pink and puffy, and you hated the thought of him spending hours in his car or another dark bar agonizing over what you might be thinking. Worst of all, regretting any of what he said.

Because you spent the past few hours doing plenty of thinking. You laid in his bed, curled on your side, and looked at all the pictures pinned to a cork board above his desk.

The sepia toned film strip from a wedding last fall where you took him as your date. You were smiling in every one, and to the unbeknownst you might have already appeared as a couple.

The Polaroid from his most recent birthday, where you were sitting on his shoulders and clutching onto his hair for dear life. His sister took the picture.

The black and white he printed from his phone of just you on a park bench, feeding the ducks. You never even knew he had that one.

And when you shuffled to your room, you suddenly stopped. The clack of hard-bottomed slippers caught your attention, and you looked down at the plush yellow footwear around your toes—a gift from Steve.

You stood on the other side of your bed and stared at the windowsill full of miscellaneous yellow items all gifted from Steve. The movie ticket stubs shoved in your mirror and the hundreds thrown in a box on your dresser because you'd probably seen a thousand over the years with Steve, who loved movie theater popcorn and sitting close to you in the dark.

The birthday cards he wrote extensive messages of well wishes and gratitude for your friendship in with terrible penmanship. The purse he bought you for that you said you liked in passing but would never spend that much money on, and the note still tucked inside the zipper that came pasted to the bag on Christmas morning:

Because you deserve it.

Love, Steve

And then you ended up on the couch, falling asleep watching the door and waiting for it to open.

Steve trudged to the kitchen while you were lost in thought, and you hurried to catch up as he swung the freezer open. He wrapped the plastic bag around the pint of the ice cream and stuck it on the top shelf, hand reaching to close the door—when he was pushed forward by a force crashing into him.

And then there was warmth around his stomach: two arms curling around his ribs. Two hands pressing to his stomach and pulling him in. Steve stopped, immobilized in the open freezer door.

"I'm sorry," you breathed into his shirt, eyes closed tight. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I was just so stunned. And I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot, Steve, for letting this go on for so long. Of course I love you, of course you love me—God, I just never wanted to ruin everything. But you make me so happy, and I—"

Steve spun around, causing your head to lift off his back. You went to drop your arms, but he instantly brought them around his neck. Two hands, still frozen from melting ice cream, braced your cheeks.

"You mean it?"

You nodded in his hold, happy to see his hazel eyes free and clear of tears. "Yes. Yes, of course I mean it—"

"Oh, thank fucking God," Steve breathed, and then his mouth descended on you.

You curled to the tops of your toes to press into his kiss, whimpering at the warmth and softness of his lips. It felt exactly as you thought it would—anticipating their plushness every time he pressed his lips to your cheek over the years.

It lasted until the pair of you were breathless, and you heaved for air upon release. Steve brushed his thumbs over your bottom lip, smearing spit and hemming your airless grin.

He kissed you all night, and let his hands roam where they could not roam before. You fell asleep in his bed tucked under his arm, and when you woke you shared the refrozen pint of mint chip with one spoon.

And when Steve called his sister while you were showering to share the good news, all she did was laugh.

"Jesus, about fucking time."

[taleofharrison]

AN: I wrote this ages ago and I randomly decided to expand on it lol and here we go.

Steve is a model, he moved to LA with Eddie the moment Eddie got his record deal. It was probably the easiest decision he had ever made, his parents still travelled a lot and his best friends had left Hawkins for college and other projects so he didn't anything left in Hawkins.

They lived in the cheapest apartment they could find near the record label's office, Steve got a full time job while Eddie had a part time job since he had to be free to record demos, talk to execs and essentially work towards releasing an album.

Eventually when the money became more steady and Corroded Coffin started making noise in the scene Steve got a part time job and started joining the guys on the studio and photoshoots. That's how he got discovered by a photographer who thought he'd look good in an upcoming fashion campaign and from that moment on Steve's career as a model just sky rocketed to the point he was considering acting too.

Steve became familiar to the fandom often being there and even could be found in music videos, he was as loved as the rest of the band was and Eddie couldn't have been prouder, that's why the decision made by their label of keeping his relationship private was devasting, hard and upsetting.

After the kiss at the sold out show, the press was crazy and fans connected all the dots. It made sense now why Eddie rejected all the groupies while it seemed like the rest of the group left the concerts with a different person every time.

Headlines were a mess. "EDDIE MUNSON OFF THE MARKET" "EDDIE MUNSON'S NEW FLING. DISCOVER WHO HE IS" "EDDIE MUNSON'S FIRST PUBLIC RELATIONSHIP: WILL THIS LAST?"

To the managers and PR team this was a mess and a crisis of sorts. The sex, drugs and rock&roll life they wanted to sell was broken. Eddie didn't give a shit though. He didn't pay attention nor care to listen to whatever the label had to say, it was his life and his career at the end of the day.

"You two" Greg, the manager spoke over the phone "have to give an interview together, make it seem like you got together during the tour"

The reporters from People magazine arrived to the their shared house in Beverly Hills. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't a mansion. After growing in the biggest and emptiest house of Hawkins the last thing Steve wanted was a huge house and Eddie just wanted Steve to be happy. Their house had 3 bedrooms, enough to have Wayne or friends over a few days and an extra room for when they were ready for kids, it was perfect.

"How long have you been together?" The reporter asked once they sat in the living room.

"Straight to the point, I see" Eddie chuckled "since high school pretty much"

"Eddie!" Steve exclaimed. He had off script but it only took one look from Eddie to follow along "well he's a year older than me and I had already graduated when we got together"

"Well I was about to start my third try on my senior year, so to me we have been dating since high school" Eddie explained further "we got together summer of 85 while he was selling ice creams in the cutest sailor outfit"

"You said you wouldn't bring that up!" Steve groaned.

"I can't help it. That really caught my eye back then" Eddie "I have photos of that, do you want to see them?"

The reporter was caught off guard when Eddie suddenly addressed him, it didn't take much to notice that if they were together, they acted as if no one else was around them.

"Uh no, it's fine" he stammered "that's not the point of the article anyways"

"Thank you" Steve spoke again "so what else do you want to know?"

After the interview and the reporter left Eddie and Steve fixed themselves some snacks and wine.

"You went off script" Steve told him "your label is gonna flip"

"Yeah, well" Eddie said after taking a sip of wine "all I care about is finally getting to kiss you whenever and wherever I want"

Eddie leaned in for a kiss which Steve gladly accepted, he was so glad Eddie went off script.

"And just in time for the Grammy's" Eddie suddenly remembered "you'll be my plus one and we'll walk the red carpet together"

[stlivingla]

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[mightyflamethrower]

California Beach Town Bans Smoking Inside People's Own Homes

Althouse 8:40 AM | August 27, 2024    

"Carlsbad, a surfing hot spot near San Diego, has decided to prohibit people from lighting up inside apartments, condos and other shared buildings where multiple families live.... At least 84 of California’s 483 municipalities — including Beverly Hills, Cupertino and Pasadena — have enacted similar bans in multi-family private residences, according to the American Nonsmokers’ Rights Foundation."

On the other hand consuming fentanyl around children is totally acceptable Yes, sometimes I get my news of what's happening in the U.S. from a U.K. paper. Here's another one: "California’s TikTok generation must learn joined-up handwriting/US state is the latest to adopt rules that require cursive writing to be taught in schools." I'd never seen the expression "joined-up handwriting." By the way, I didn't see the term "cursive" back when I was learning it. It was just called "writing" — as opposed to "printing." Somewhat later, before "cursive," I saw "script." But "joined-up handwriting" is completely new to me, and it really makes it seem silly: Whatever was so important about not lifting the pen up when going from letter to letter? It was once believed to be faster, and there was so much time to be saved.

By virtue of what do we claim to be a free people?

[stevebattle]

DC-2 (Drink Caddy 2) by Gene Beley (1982), Android Amusement Corp, Irwindale CA. The DC-2 achieved TV fame, appearing in an episode of "CHiPs" called "Day of the Robot" in January 1983.

“The next model, DC-2, one of which was bought by the actor James Caan and some other friends as a present for Mr. Hefner, has a sleek fiberglass body, a color television in its chest, a videotape recorder in its midriff, a color camera in its head, a black plastic drink tray in its chest and other features. Though Mr. Beley believes that technology that could adapt DC-2 to a true robotic form is not far off, he is convinced that the home robot industry will begin with robots that have more entertainment value than practical use. ''It's nice to say you're going to make a home robot that's going to do all kinds of wonderful things,'' he commented, ''but if you ask someone if they'll spend $20,000 for it and they say: 'Are you crazy. I can buy a vacuum cleaner for $200,' it doesn't make sense.'' " – DOMESTICATING THE ROBOT FOR TOMORROW’S HOMES, Peter Applebone, The New York Times, March 4, 1982.

“Dayton’s Department Store, Minneapolis, Minnesota, utilizes a DC-2 robot on a regular basis for promotions. The 4’2” tall robot [middle photo] features a baked-on enamel grey paint job over a sleek fiberglass body with green, flashing L.E.D.s. Electronics include a 9” color TV in the chest, JVC video camera in the turning head, and a VCR.” – ANDROID AMUSEMENT CORP.

“BEVERLY HILLS, Calif. – DC-2, the first robot ever arrested here, was released yesterday after two youngsters apologised in writing for creating a fuss with the 4-foot tall machine. … DC-2 took a remote-controlled walk along a block of North Beverly Drive in this wealthy Los Angeles suburb, passing out business cards bearing the name of Beley’s company, which manufactured it. Police responding to a call of a robot walking the street couldn’t find its human controller and ended up pulling DC-2’s batteries and carting it off – via a tow truck – to the pokey. “The kids had it without permission and were just screwing around.” said Lt. Russell Olson. “There will be no criminal filing.” When police neared the mechanical object, it was heard to say, “Help me! They’re trying to take me apart” ” – Robot back at home after arrest, jail stay, Associated Press.

[chrisodonline]

I didn't "liveblog" the last ep because...it didn't feel livebloggable. I mean, it did. But it would have just been nothing but grousing, and I'm sure that would've gotten redundant.

The whole ep should've hit more emotionally, but the dialogue was painful in spots. And people were overselling it, making the hokiness so much more obvious. I get these were newer writers, but I also know enough about TV writers' rooms to know there is collaboration in every single episode. I...whatever. The Sam/Kam scenes were THE most (only) solid bits.

And I do not know who the hell was at the wedding planner because I don't know the two people that I saw, especially the one so obsessed with security and not wanting this stranger to call him by his first name yet totally throws caution to the wind and is comfortable making out in a public place. Near the windows.

The only thing I can figure is that Anna was being really weird, and Callen -- already notably on edge and still in work mode -- clocks this and is too weirded out to play along. You could tell he was starting to try, and then Anna was just SO extra he just wanted to poke holes in the persona she was putting on because he didn't get why she was being like this. And I didn't either.

Continuing on the "only thing I can figure" with Anna, is the fact that she's mentioned before about wanting to go full on "normal life." Or what she thinks is "normal" -- seen in magazines, Instagram, etc. She can't completely get out of it as we've seen; she still wants to do something adjacent. But she hangs onto the "normal" because she could only dream about it as an adult. She feels like she missed out on getting to be one of those little girls who dreams about your wedding day and grown up house because she was too busy being Black Widowed, er, Noble Maiden-ed. And the "normalness" she's seeking is so opposite of what she's done or had in the past for that very reason. Yes, the drama and spy jobs were how she met Callen. But it was also consistently what kept them apart time after time. After "Down the Rabbit Hole," I think she really, really was like, "I could lose him" and was so grateful she didn't. She wants to touch the normal that doesn't involve this kind of thing that could keep them apart...permanently.

And Fatima accidentally hits on this. She's frustrated with Callen, and hey, he got to come and have family dinner. She wanted to repay the favor, or so she thought, by helping Anna out with the wedding to give her a decent partner. But Fatima is all Beverly Hills. She's Hollywood. She's the Instagram wedding type. She makes the mistake of selling all this as normal to Anna, and talking about how this is that one special day when you get to just go full-on fancy -- and that's what everyone does! So Anna starts to adopt all of these behaviors, and she wants to play this part. She would NEVER truly allow Arkady to officiate (even if we, the audience, bribed her heavily). But doesn't it sound super sweet and touching to tell the froufrou wedding planner that her father wants to officiate? And the wedding planner reacts just as she thought she would.

Callen's facial reactions the whole time (and well done, COD on this) were such a mix of confusion that gradually started to turn into annoyance. He was not told they were playing this game, a game he really doesn't want to play. And I think he's trying to mess with her so she can see how ridiculous this all is -- at least for her to try to be this person.

So when he starts joking about this entire thing he thinks is a joke, a sitcom that he's watching, and grabs the piece of paper from her she at first replies like a high school girl. And then the minute she lets the aggressive part comes out that has been annoyed for separate reasons with him and trying to be perfectly pleasant in front of the wedding planner, a.k.a. Harbinger of Normalcy, it's the real Anna at the surface. The feisty one that Callen knows is the real her. And once the facade was broken, it was REALLY broken. And Callen was just so relieved that she was "back," he was like, "I guess she's on top of me now, so we might as well make out if this stops us from having to do that dumbass quiz." And then they have to run home. And this whole dumb d-story better not have been done because they needed a way to set up Anna getting accidentally pregnant because they were a little too impulsive that day.

Anyway, this comes after what we got of their relationship in the early part of the season, super healthy conversations that made them seem like the couple the writers always intended them to be -- and not what we had really seen. So, yes, extra frustrating.

But who cares, right?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Not me. Clearly. That's for sure.

[wickedsrest-rp]

Name: Iyla Devar Species: Fury Occupation: Owner (A New You Inn & Spa) Age: 124 Years Old (Looks about 27) Played By: SB Face Claim: Simone Ashley

"Well let's face it, who on earth besides antique dealers and gay couples actually still give dinner parties?"

After years of trying to conceive, her parents finally had their perfect little princess in 1899, just in time for the turn of the century. They wanted to give Iyla the world on a silver platter. Little did they know, that little girl would demand the platter be made of gilded platinum, not something as easily tarnished as silver. 

As long as she could remember, Iyla was the center of attention. The sparkling diamond of her parents’ eyes, Iyla never longed for anything, except maybe more. With a snap of her fingers, a servant would arrive with at least five options for whatever was asked, knowing full well they would have to return with another selection. The first was never good enough, of course. Not for precious, perfect Iyla.

She watched her parents live a life of luxury, boasting one of the largest estates in Los Angeles, throwing parties and attending movie screenings, movies that were so much longer than a nickelodeon and so much more exclusive. Then, while the rest of the country fell into recession and traded their glittering gowns for utilitarian war uniforms, the Devars remained untouched. Pristine. It was almost too good to be true, though Iyla never batted an eye. She simply assumed they were magically lucky. Why on earth would she think anything different?  

Glittering parties, ever-flowing gin, the electric thrum of a good trumpet, it was hard not to get caught up in the American Jazz Age. By 1926, Iyla had cemented her own place among the elite. Iyla’s parents even bought her her own speakeasy, hidden underground off Sunset Boulevard. She had an immaculate social circle hanging on her every word, except for the one person who truly mattered: Tomas Reynard. Though Iyla threw endless soirees, Tomas never attended. He always had another engagement, or was out of town on business, or some other excuse. They were ships passing in the night, star crossed lovers. He, from a less than ideal background, the bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks who had made his own way in the world and she, the priceless diamond of Beverly Hills. It was simply meant to be. 

So Iyla set out to throw the party to end all parties. People would speak of this gala for decades, and it would finally catch the attention of her prized Tomas. Infectious music swirled around the speakeasy from the jazz band she’d flown in from New Orleans, gin was flowing, her parents had paid off the local cops to turn the other cheek, everything was perfect. And then, he walked in. Tomas, followed by his usual gang, filtered into the space and Iyla’s mind damn near went blank. All she saw was Tomas. Not the flames licking at the corner of the bar, not the screaming as the footlights began exploding from the rising heat, not even her best friend desperately calling her name to get the hell out of dodge. 

In a matter of seconds, Iyla’s world crashed around her. She’d waited too long, hoping to see Tomas get to safety. She was trapped, a venomous rage broiling up inside her as she alone watched the smoke and flames close her in, trapping her amongst the glittering wreckage. In her last, labored breaths, Iyla promised Tomas she would find him in the next life, and that everyone responsible for keeping them apart in this one would burn.

Character Facts:

Personality: Amicable, shallow, eloquent, vain, temperamental, confident, determined

Loves name brands. Iyla has an entire closet dedicated just to designer handbags. She tends to have a vendetta against those who counterfeit bags, especially Gucci.

Iyla doesn’t particularly enjoy being a fury. She wants her revenge, of course, but she doesn’t much care about helping others find theirs, at least not in an altruistic sense. Therefore, she tends to play fast and loose with her clientele, using their vengeance as a stepping stone to her own.

She finds Wicked’s Rest incredibly dull, but tries her hardest to bring some life and class to the place. She organizes yearly galas for charity and lives for a good masquerade ball.

Has hired a private investigator to find Tomas. While they haven’t been successful finding him or his descendants, they have been able to find some of those who were in attendance at the infamous dumpster fire of a party. 

[beardedmrbean]

A 20-year-old Arizona man who allegedly confessed to shooting four people dead and wounding a fifth person told police he carried out the killing spree due to a hatred of drugs and homelessness, court documents show.

Iren Byers claimed responsibility for the shootings after he was taken into custody for trespassing near Main St and Extension Rd in Mesa, Phoenix, on Sunday, according to a statement from the Mesa Police Department.

Mr Byers was cooperative and told police where they could find a 9mm handgun and clothing he had been wearing during the shootings, according to the release.

Shell casings from each of the shootings in Mesa and Phoenix were linked to the 9mm pistol found in a fanny pack in his room at his grandmother’s apartment, police said.

The first shooting occurred at around 2.45pm on Friday near 26th and Oak St, in east Phoenix.

According to the documents obtained by The Independent, Mr Byers said he had been walking along a canal with with 41-year-old Nicholas Arnstad.

Mr Byers told police he shot Arnstad in the head because he was smoking fentanyl, which had angered him because his brother had also abused the deadly opiate.

Police found Arnstad’s body soon afterwards.

Mesa police officers were called to Beverly Park at about 10.30pm on Friday night where they found the body of 41-year-old Julian Cox, according to the statement.

Mr Byers later claimed he had shot Cox in the head after he started talking about using “blues”, which is a street name for fentanyl, according to the court papers.

Mr Byers told investigators he then met Stephen Young, 41, at a Circle K and rode with him on light rail. Mr Byers claimed that he wanted to smoke marijuana, and that Young spoke about using fentanyl.

He allegedly confessed to shooting Young in the head before taking off.

Police found Young’s body near a Greyhound station on Country Club Rd at about midnight.

Mr Byers told investigators he then met 40-year-old John Swain, who he said was homeless and not from the Phoenix area, while walking on nearby railroad tracks, according to the probable cause statement.

He said he shot Swain once, and continued to shoot him as he fell down a hill, according to the court papers.

Officers found his body near Extension Road and Main Street at about 1am on Saturday.

Mr Byers then met his final victim, identified as 36-year-old Angela Fonseca, while walking on Main St.

He claimed to have shot her in the face after getting angry at her.

Ms Fonseca was found just after midnight, and was taken to hospital where she was underwent several surgeries. Doctors say she is expected to survive.

Mr Byers was initially arrested on a trespassing charge, and was reportedly cooperative with police officers.

He allegedly told investigators they could find the 9mm handgun and clothing at his grandmother’s house, police said. At least one shell casing from each crime scene matched the weapon, according to documents.

Security footage also showed Mr Byers wearing clothes that matched the recovered items, the papers stated.

Mr Byers has been booked into prison without bond on four counts of first-degree murder and one count of attempted first-degree murder.

“Knowing that Iren Byers will have to face the consequences of his unjustified actions is the start of justice to be seen,” Mesa Police Detective Brandi George said in a statement.

[jeremymcdo]

Tumbling Gymnastics Classes N

https://www.youtube.com/embed/PBCGoQREqbM

Beverly Hills Gymnastics Center 9135 W Olympic Blvd Beverly Hills, CA 90212 310-204-1980 Website URL: https://www.beverlyhillsgymnastics.org/ Elevating Excellence at Beverly Hills Gymnastics Center in Beverly Hills, CA Located in the heart of Beverly Hills, Beverly Hills Gymnastics center is a premier destination for aspiring gymnasts of all ages and capability levels. Known for its top-tier coaching staff, state-of-the-art facilities, and duty to developing pubescent athletes, the center has become a cornerstone in the community for those passionate not quite gymnastics. At Beverly Hills Gymnastics Center, athletes are guided through a range of programs intended to back up them reach their personal goalswhether they are beginners or competitive-level gymnasts. The center offers classes in recreational gymnastics, competitive training, and tumbling, all taught by severely trained coaches in the manner of years of experience. These programs are crafted to advance not on your own swine strength, flexibility, and coordination but also confidence, discipline, and perseverance. What sets Beverly Hills Gymnastics center apart is its holistic entre to supple development. The staff prioritizes safety, ensuring that students learn proper techniques and enhancement at their own pace, minimizing the risk of injury. In addition, the center fosters a in favor and encouraging environment where athletes can mount up both individually and as portion of a team. With a reputation for excellence and an obstinate dedication to the sport, Beverly Hills Gymnastics center has helped pretend to have the careers of numerous gymnasts and continues to inspire pubescent athletes to reach their full potential. Whether your child is taking their first steps into the world of gymnastics or aiming for the highest level of competition, this center offers the resources and guidance to make it happen. https://carlsbadendodontist305.blogspot.com/2025/02/tumbling-gymnastics-classes-near-me.html Gymnastics Tumbling Gymnastics Classes Near Me Gymnastics Open Near Me https://sites.google.com/view/backpaindoctornearmedelmpt/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/homewindowscreenrepairnaf9t3x/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/businesswindowscreenrepayc8s/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/screendoorrepairsandiegoz4bci/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/vistaforeigncarrepairks75x/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/autorestorationakronohnj83f/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/persianrugcleaningcoronawx6p9/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/cypresspersianrugrepaira5dw/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/massageeducationsantamoncm6/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/massageeducationlosangeld2/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/westminsterorientalrugrea4q8/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/oceansidedentalimplantcos9j/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/massagetherapyschoolsanfw9a/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/termiteinspectioncarlsbac5q7/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/beverlyglenpersianrugreswy/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/benefitsofchiropracticcanw89d/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/littlegymnasticswesthollm3m/home/ https://sites.google.com/view/affordabledentalimplantsjc2z/home/ http://statezz.com/directory/listingdisplay.aspx?lid=36536 http://usaizze.com/directory/listingdisplay.aspx?lid=41567 https://www.techdirectory.io/san-diego-ca/home-services/mobile-speed-screens-inc-san-diego-window-door-screen-repair-service/ http://localadvertised.com/directory/listingdisplay.aspx?lid=87028 http://localbrowsed.com/directory/listingdisplay.aspx?lid=79610

[persian-rug-repair-plac-n3n]

Tumbling Gymnastics Classes N

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[teslaproperties]

Top 10 Communities with the Best Homes to Buy in Dubai

Dubai's real estate market continues to thrive, offering a plethora of luxurious and family-friendly communities for prospective homeowners. Whether you're seeking a waterfront apartment or a serene villa, Dubai has something to cater to every preference. Here are the top 10 communities with the best homes to buy in Dubai:

1. Palm Jumeirah

An iconic man-made island, Palm Jumeirah is synonymous with luxury living. The community boasts opulent villas, upscale apartments, and exclusive beach access. Residents enjoy proximity to high-end retail outlets and world-class amenities, making it a prime location for those seeking a lavish lifestyle.

2. Dubai Marina

Known for its stunning skyscrapers and vibrant atmosphere, Dubai Marina offers a cosmopolitan lifestyle. The area features a mix of residential towers, villas, and hotel apartments, all set against the backdrop of a picturesque waterfront. With numerous dining and entertainment options, it's ideal for individuals and couples seeking an active urban environment.

3. Downtown Dubai

Home to landmarks like the Burj Khalifa and Dubai Mall, Downtown Dubai is the city's bustling heart. The community offers a blend of ultra-luxurious apartments in high-rises and traditional low-rise residences. Its central location and vibrant lifestyle make it a coveted address for professionals and families alike.

4. Arabian Ranches

A family-friendly community, Arabian Ranches is renowned for its serene environment and lush green spaces. The area offers a variety of villas and townhouses, complemented by parks, schools, and recreational facilities, making it perfect for families seeking a tranquil suburban lifestyle.

5. Emirates Hills

Dubbed the "Beverly Hills of Dubai," Emirates Hills is an exclusive gated community featuring luxurious villas overlooking the Montgomerie Golf Course. With meticulous landscaping and unparalleled privacy, it caters to those seeking an elite lifestyle.

6. Jumeirah Lake Towers (JLT)

Situated adjacent to Dubai Marina, JLT offers a more relaxed environment with a series of high-rise towers surrounding artificial lakes. The community provides a range of affordable apartments and is well-connected, making it a popular choice for young professionals.

7. The Springs

Part of the Emirates Living communities, The Springs offers a collection of townhouses set amidst scenic waterways and lush landscaping. With a focus on community living, it provides a peaceful environment with convenient access to schools, shopping centers, and recreational facilities.

8. Jumeirah Beach Residence (JBR)

Located along the Arabian Gulf, JBR offers beachfront living with a variety of residential options, including apartments and penthouses. The area is known for "The Walk," a bustling promenade with shops, restaurants, and entertainment venues, making it a vibrant place to call home.

9. Dubailand

A sprawling development encompassing several housing communities, Dubailand offers everything from affordable subdivisions to exclusive luxury estates. Located near top schools and abundant outdoor spaces, it's considered one of the best residential communities in Dubai for families.

10. Al Barari

Known for its stunning green landscape, Al Barari is an exclusive community home to bespoke residences. With a focus on sustainability and luxury, it offers villas and apartments surrounded by lush gardens, making it ideal for nature lovers and families seeking an eco-friendly environment.

Conclusion Investing in Dubai's real estate market offers a range of opportunities, from luxury villas to affordable apartments. For personalized assistance and access to the best real estate properties in Dubai, consider reaching out to Tesla Properties, a leading real estate company dedicated to helping you find your homes to buy in Dubai.

[lucabeverly]

LUCA in Los Angeles, CA

Are you familiar with LUCA apartment complex? It’s a rental property that has amazing co-living apartments for rent near Beverly Hills area. It is interesting to note that both indoors and outside, their indulgent shared spaces and carefully chosen conveniences deliver a lifestyle that expertly anticipates your every need. Aside from that, you'll surely love their fitness center. Furthermore, their state-of-the-art facility features a full array of free weights and exercise machines at your disposal. In that case, you can live an active lifestyle without going farther away from the comforts of your home. Lastly, you can enjoy other nearby establishments, too.

Los Angeles, CA

In searching for pre-scheduled activities in Los Angeles, CA, it is essential to check out online posts. Here are examples posted at Eventbrite. First, there will be Fridays with Tab & Chance presents "A Valentine's Day Experience" this coming Friday, February 14, 2025, at around 6:00 PM, at AVALON Hollywood & Bardot. Moreover, the Music for the Masses: Dark 80's New Wave Nite [L.A] is scheduled on Saturday, February 15, 2025, at around 10:00 PM, at The Virgil. Lastly, you can also opt to attend the We Love Kandy 2025 | Los Angeles on Saturday, February 22, 2025, at around 8:30 PM, at Catch One.

Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County in Los Angeles, CA

The Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County, located in Los Angeles, CA, is a renowned attraction drawing tourists globally for sightseeing and education. Notably, it is the largest natural and historical museum in the western United States. The museum boasts an impressive collection of nearly 35 million specimens and artifacts, spanning 4.5 billion years of history. This extensive collection includes items for exhibition and vast research collections, both onsite and offsite, offering a rich resource for exploration and study. Its diverse offerings make it a must-visit destination for anyone interested in natural history and science.

Kelly Clarkson announces Las Vegas residency for 2025: Here are the dates

We know that there are many fascinating news reports in Los Angeles, CA these days. In a recent news article, the topic was about Kelly Clarkson. Reportedly, Kelly Clarkson is returning to Las Vegas. The Grammy-winning singer announced Thursday her "Studio Sessions" residency at The Colosseum at Caesars Palace. Besides, it was mentioned in the news that Clarkson's residency begins on Friday, July 4, and concludes on Saturday, November 15, 2024. "I’m so excited to be back in Vegas!" Clarkson said in a social media post. "We’re bringing the studio to the stage this time with Studio Sessions! See you soon!"

Link to map

Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County 900 Exposition Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90007, United States Follow Bill Robertson Ln to W Exposition Blvd 28 sec (299 ft) Take S Vermont Ave, I-10 W/Santa Monica Fwy and La Cienega Blvd to Blackburn Ave 23 min (8.8 mi) Turn right onto Blackburn Ave Destination will be on the left 1 min (0.2 mi) LUCA 8377 Blackburn Ave, Los Angeles, CA 90048, United States

[moshemoshe5585]

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