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latenightreadingpdf · 10 months ago

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Whispers in the Night - Spencer Reid

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: During a challenging case in Atlanta, BAU members Spencer and Y/N share a hotel room. As Y/N comforts Spencer through his insomnia with a gentle touch, their bond deepens, shifting their friendship into something more.

The team had been dispatched to Atlanta to investigate a series of gruesome murders that bore a chilling resemblance to the handiwork of a notorious serial killer. The case was intricate, with each crime scene offering more questions than answers. The BAU was under intense pressure to solve the case, and the atmosphere was thick with tension.

As the team gathered in the briefing room of the local police department, Spencer Reid, the genius with an eidetic memory and an IQ that most people could only dream of, shuffled through the papers in front of him. His slender fingers danced across the documents, absorbing every detail with an intensity that was characteristic of him.

Y/N, a key member of the BAU with a sharp mind and a compassionate heart, noticed the strain on Spencer's face. They had been friends for years, having developed a bond that went beyond the confines of the office. She was always there for him, understanding his quirks and mannerisms better than anyone else.

After a long day of interviews and crime scene analysis, the team checked into a local hotel. Due to a booking error, Y/N and Spencer found themselves sharing a room. Although they had shared accommodations on previous cases without incident, the circumstances of this case had left Spencer more on edge than usual.

As Y/N settled into her bed, she noticed Spencer sitting on the edge of his own, staring blankly at the floor. His usually vibrant eyes were dulled, and his shoulders were tense.

"Spence, are you okay?" Y/N asked softly, concern lacing her voice.

Spencer looked up, offering her a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a lot on my mind, I guess."

Y/N knew better than to press him for details. Instead, she decided to offer him some comfort in the only way she knew how. She moved closer to him and gently began to play with his unruly hair, a gesture that had always seemed to soothe him.

Spencer's eyes fluttered closed, and a small sigh escaped his lips. The tension in his shoulders began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of calm that only Y/N could provide.

"Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection for her friend. "Anytime, Spence."

As the hours ticked by, Y/N could tell that Spencer was struggling to fall asleep. His restless movements and the furrowed brow were telltale signs of a mind that refused to rest.

"Spence, you need to try to get some sleep," Y/N said gently, her fingers stilling in his hair.

"I know, Y/N, but my mind just can't seem to switch off," Spencer admitted, his voice tinged with frustration.

Y/N paused for a moment, contemplating how best to help him. She knew that physical touch was something Spencer typically avoided, but with her, it was different. She was the exception to his rule, the one person he allowed into his personal space without hesitation.

"Would it help if I stayed with you until you fall asleep?" Y/N suggested, her eyes searching his for any sign of discomfort.

Spencer's response was a simple nod, but the gratitude in his eyes spoke volumes. Y/N moved to sit beside him on the bed, her presence a comforting presence in the darkness.

As she continued to play with his hair, Spencer's breathing began to slow, his body finally succumbing to the exhaustion that had been building within him. Y/N watched him as he drifted off to sleep, his features softening as the weight of the day's events fell away.

In the silence of the hotel room, with only the soft hum of the air conditioner to fill the space, Y/N realized just how much Spencer Reid meant to her. Their friendship had always been strong, but this case had brought them closer than ever before.

As she finally allowed herself to lay down and close her eyes, Y/N knew that no matter what the future held for them, she would always be there for Spencer, just as he had always been there for her.

The next morning, as the team gathered for breakfast before heading back to Quantico, Y/N caught Spencer's eye across the table. A knowing smile passed between them, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had only grown stronger in the face of adversity.

While the case in Atlanta would eventually be solved, the connection between Y/N and Spencer was a mystery that neither of them wanted, or needed, to unravel. They were friends, confidants, and now, perhaps something more.

As they boarded the jet for the journey home, Y/N found herself looking forward to the future, to the cases they would solve together, and to the nights they would spend sharing whispered conversations and stolen moments in the quiet darkness.

The journey ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: no matter what obstacles they faced, Y/N and Spencer would face them together.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #fanfic #spencer x reader #spencer reid imagine #fluff #comfort #bau reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x bau!reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer

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hometoursandotherstuff · 8 months ago

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Fairy Tale mansion for the wealthy witches & fairies. It was built in 1935 in Atlanta, GA, has 4bds, 4ba, $4.75M. But, it's magical. Take a look around. Look at the niche to the left of the front door.

First, we stop at this little stone she shed for gardening tools, etc. Can you imagine decorating this as a sanctuary?

Look at the skylights and the potting table.

And, now we move on to the main house. Spacious, yet cozy living room has a big stone fireplace and fancy beams.

Next to the living room, there's a home office/den. Note the doorway arches with wood and stone.

From there, enter the spacious sun room. Wouldn't this be magical if it had a bright tropical decor? Up-lighting around the ceiling, a sky light, and big windows for plenty of sunlight.

Very formal dining room. This home could be stunning with some color. If I had the millions to buy it, I would work with a professional designer.

The kitchen has an interestingly shaped island. The white counters create a contrast against the darker wood of the cabinets. That gray wall has to go.

You have to picture your own decorating style in this sitting room. I don't care for this look, and it's a flex space.

The primary suite. The bedroom is too formal, too boring, but I would definitely keep the bath.

This secondary is nice and roomy with stone walls.

And, here's one of the other 4 baths.

Step down to cozy family room. Could be a cool room.

Rocky little room with a wine rack.

Outside there's a courtyard with a lovely patio.

The little stone grill has a gas grill inside.

Here's the garage. The stone walls are amazing.

There's so much to see, strolling the grounds.

The gardens are magical.

Sooo pretty.

With the right decor this home could be stunning.

This is like a Wonderland.

Koi pond.

Like a botanical garden attraction.

Then, back around to the house.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1050-E-Club-Ln-NE-Atlanta-GA-30319/35903212_zpid/?

#stone houses #fairy tale mansion #houses #house tours #home tour

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misguidedasgardian · 7 months ago

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Wild Cats (part VI)

VI. A time to mourn

MASTERLIST

Summary: You had unknowingly signed up for the adventure you at first didn’t care for. You never expected what you were going to find there.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injuries, catholic/christian rites, a passage from the bible.

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: I just don’t want to pass the point of no return, of Daryl being terribly mean, he is, but at least he is always watching over us, so… he is all words jajaja

You were following that car well into the night and far from the church, to your counts, you were heading south, back to Atlanta, and the car was painfully familiar to you.

“Where do you think it’s going?”, asked Carol

“Back to Atlanta”, you answered quietly, you were in the backseat, and they both were in the front

“How do you know?”, she asked

“I have seen it before, the symbol”, you said, Daryl looked back at you for a second

“They took one of us”, he said, “Beth”

“Right”, you mumbled, “they tried to take one of mine a while ago”, you said quietly, but you didn’t say anything else

“You have known this whole time?”, asked

“What?”, you asked back, “I didn’t know you were looking for them”

“Who are they?”, Carol asked

“Grady Memorial hospital”, you said

“How do you know that?”, Carol asked, you only looked back at her, not willing to answer.

“That’s the only thing I know, this guys dressed as cops were “rescuing” people, take them back to the hospital where they are treated”, you said shortly, “that’s all I know”

In a couple of hours you were back into the city, following that car in a reasonable distance so it won’t see you. When it suddenly stopped, you stopped as well, turning off the car so it won’t hear you. You saw a cop coming out of the car, checking something, and then getting inside again. You tried to turn on the car, but it wouldn’t.

You had ran out of fuel

You looked outside and the neighborhood looked painfully familiar

“Let’s go, I have a place we can go near here”, you said quickly, getting out of the car.

There were a few silent seconds in which you couldn’t hear anything near you, not walkers, or anything else, you were safe for now. You looked up and you could see the entire night sky, it was a clear night, and without all the city lights contaminating, it helped you see somewhat clearly.

Then they got out of the car, interrupting the small peace that lasted barely seconds, and the three of you started walking into the night.

This might be a bad idea, in case you met them again, in case they were there.

“Where are’ we goin”, asked Daryl catching up to you

“A safehouse, if you will”, you said simply.

A fairly new office building, it was small, five floors, four offices per floor, but it was walker proof, as you had blown up all the first floor, leaving on the the pillars and foundations, so no walker could linger, as it was an open space, only a fire escape ladder leading to the second floor.

It looked more abandoned than the last time you saw it. Which was a scary thought

“What is this place?”, asked Carol, but you didn’t answer, you only started climbing. When you reached the top, into a metal railing balcony, you grabbed a rope that was hanging by the metal door and pulled. It was a bell, signaling to those inside that someone of the team was coming in, and you waited several minutes, as Daryl and Carol stood by your side, but nobody came. Confirming your suspicions.

The door hasn't been open in weeks, that much you could tell when you opened it. revealing the space inside. It was all empty, but that didn’t surprise you. you walked to the only closed door and opened it, revealing a stair to the third floor, and that is where the fun started.

It was a similar space then the first, but this one wasn’t empty. The first room was a made-up kitchen, a conference room you used as a dining room, another room where you stored your goods, food goods, and the fourth was a small armory that, even back then, was a bit empty.

Daryl and Carol watched everything with careful eyes, as you meanwhile were coming down with the sense that nobody has been here in weeks, judging by the moldy can of beans on the table in the kitchen.

They were probably dead, you guessed, with a lump in your throat.

“Please eat, whatever you want”, there was a nice bounty there. And they dive in with no need for a second offer.

Your stomach was in knots.

You heard a noise upstairs, making you three flinch and hold onto whatever you had in your holsters in your belts.

You signaled them to stop, as you were going to check the sound yourself. You went up another flight of stairs, feeling the sound, it was coming from the bathroom.

As soon as you step foot into the hall between the rooms, you heard it, clear as day

A deep, guttural growl was inside the bathroom, and your eyes adjusted to the night as you read the dreadful letters written in blood in the

I’M SORRY

“No, no, no, no”, you whispered.

Yes you have come to terms with the fact that they might be dead, but to actually be witness to it, was a completely different thing.

You were shaking as tears started falling, you knew who it was, you’d recognize the letters anywhere.

You felt your legs falter, due to fatigue, hunger, tiredness. You fell to the floor, managing to place your back against the door

You hugged your legs as you sobbed uncontrollably, you heard the grunts and moans, and the hits against the door and you cried even louder. You heard steps coming your way and Daryl appeared, crossbow drawn, ready to launch.

“Move”, he commanded

“No!”, you said, standing up quickly, “Don’t you dare!”, you said, looking at Daryl pointing the crossbow at the door, “I will do it”, you said surely, he didn’t let up, but took a step back, you grabbed your knife hidden in your boot.

Tears still tainting your cheek, you opened the door and the walker, one that had been your friend, launched at you. He had been a big man, so you had trouble, more to the fact that he was mainly “complete”, you had trouble grabbing him, placing your forearm on his chest keeping his head away from you.

Looking into those dead eyes almost made you fail, but you stabbed your knife as deeply as you could at the side of his head.

It immediately stopped moving, falling to the floor.

He didn’t look like him, you thought, as looked down at him, he didn’t, but… at the same time, it was him, there was no doubt.

Daryl looked at him

“He got bitten, didn’t have it in him to finish himself off”, he said, a big chunk of his leg was missing.

He had been bitten out there, he was alone, you guessed, and he came back here, infected, feverish, and locked himself in the bathroom. You looked inside, there was dried blood on the tub, and a gun, his gun.

He couldn’t do it. He died alone, and in pain, in this bathroom

Where was the other member of your team?, you wondered

You went to his room and grabbed the sheets covering his made up bed, and placed in on top of his body on the hall

“Ya’ should eat somethin”, the archer murmured quietly. You barely nodded, wiping the tears that were still falling silently.

It was silly in normal circumstances you would refuse anything that had to do with food right now, but you were starving, you missed the small feast the group had prepared back in the church, and the only thing yo

Gods you didn’t even let Rick know where you had gone, they were probably looking for you all.

There was an awkward silence between you and the archer, you were just looking down at your friend, you couldn’t leave him here, you just couldn’t.

“Did ya’ know em?”, he asked gently, you barely nodded.

“You should get something to eat”, you said to him, you needed to grab him, take him to the roof. You tried, but there was no way that you could take him up there yourself.

“Let me help ya”, he said, and between the both of you, you grabbed him. It was tricky, to go up two flights of stairs, but you did.

Up there you had a wooden table and a couple of chairs, for when you had a moment at night, you’d sit up here, and eat, or chat, or whatever.

You placed him over the table. tomorrow, you were going to figure out what to do, how he’d like to go out.

You barely nodded at Daryl, who wouldn’t stop watching you like a hawk.

“Thank you”, you muttered, and then you both went back downstairs.

Carol looked at you sharply when you returned to the third floor. You just grabbed a can of noodles, and ate them up in a record speed.

“What is this place?”, she asked, again, as she had no answer of you

“I hold up here with a group for a couple of months”, you said

“This is like an operational base”, she said again, you do had to admit this was steps further from a simple “Warehouse” of civilians, but you had been trained by an army man, so.

You did not want to share, not like this.

“We had an army man with us”, you said simply, as you found a bottle of water, and a juice powder, which you happily put into the water, it’s been so long and you were a fan of it. You drank it so quickly it made your stomach hurt.

“Take any room you want”, you said, “as you can see, it’s pretty safe here, but you can make shifts if you want, or whatever. You muttered, suddenly drained of energy. You went up to the room you occupied when you lived here. And finally felt safe, and at peace, and you fell into a dreamless sleep.

You woke up when there was a beautiful pink light in the horizon, signaling for the new day.

You used the upstairs bathroom, there was still water inside the tank, to clean your face. You ate breakfast, just as you heard both of them moving around upstairs.

You searched under the sink in the kitchen for the secret stash, you found an old bottle of whiskey which, in the normal world, would be more expensive than a car. You went up to the roof, Pope was there where you left him, Pope, it was funny, he was a christian, or catholic rather, so you’d mock him, calling him that.

A soft wind picked up, raising the sheet from his body, you shook your head, trying to fix it. You searched his pockets, finding his trusted lighter, and his bible, which you grabbed from him.

“We need to keep moving”, Daryl said behind you as you were fixing his clothes.

“Then go”, you said quietly, as you were wrapping him as best you could, “I don’t want you or need you here, I’m not leaving him”

“He’s dead!”, he said, raising his tone, “do you want us to leave you and be alone again?”

“I have to do this”, you said defiantly, “I left him once I’m not gonna do it again”, he heard him huff and whisper something under his breath, but you wouldn’t listen. He didn’t leave though, he gave you your space, standing by the door, and waited for you.

You resumed your work, wrapping your friend more properly.

Once you were done, you poured the whiskey all over him, after taking a sip, you needed courage. Once he was soaked in it, you grabbed his bible.

“Ya’ catholic?”, he asked softly behind you.

“He was”, you said, as you searched for his favorite passage, he would often read it, at night, when he thought nobody could listen to him. But you did. The bible had been open so many times on those pages that you didn’t even have to look much.

You finally found it, as you heard Carol joining you, but you shook your head, trying to concentrate as tears clouded your vision.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die…”, your voice broke a bit, and felt silly, people were watching you, so you swallowed it and kept going, “...a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to throw away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace”, you recited, it was an odd time to end it, so you out down the book, and place it on his chest.

“Your time here is over, my friend”, you said sadly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’ll see you on the other side”, you fired up the lighter and burned the sheet around him, it burned up like paper because of the whiskey, and soon the whole table was on fire. You watched it burn, counting to a hundred.

You turned to the pair of them, who were looking at you with guilty eyes, but yours were dead now

“Now we can go”, you said, your voice breaking. Daryl didn’t say a word, but to your incredible surprise, he wrapped his arms around you, you hid your face on his chest, it lasted barely seconds, but it comforted you more that you could ever explain. When he released you, Carol placed a hand on your shoulder, and you three walked back downstairs, “we can do some recon, of where they have your friend, then we can come back here to spend the night again if you wish”, you said shortly.

“We should take what we can now, in case…”, Carol muttured red and you nodded.

It had been raided, the armory at least, but you found a couple of handguns, and most important of it all, a silencer. You found arrows, for Daryl, and he seemed pleased when you handed them to him

Carol also refilled her chargers, and you took some for yourself, you couldn’t be wasting time recharging in the middle of a herd or being attacked.

“the rest of em’, ain’t them coming back ere?”, Daryl mumbled

“No, if he was here, alone, the other is gone”, you said shortly, “he won’t come back, not soon at least”, you said back, the lack of weapons and nothing else would tell you as much.

You looked at each other, all armed up, ready to go

“Let’s go find your friend”, you said shortly.

Walking down the street again was surreal, so many months ago you had left and never came back. You looked as far as you could, but the truck wasn’t there.

It was gone.

But it was a residential neighborhood, so you had no trouble finding a working car which still had a decent amount of gas in it.

You didn’t know what to do next, or what you should be expecting, you drove through the streets making sure to cross nobody in the same conditions.

You barely remembered where the hospital was, you truly haven't come across those people but once, when they tried to take one of yours after he got injured, you fought them of, he was fine, but they still believe they had this “authority” when they dressed as policemen, you didn’t know what was going on in that hellish place, nor you did want to find out.

Luckily Carol did remember where it was, so you stopped a couple of blocks away, and you got inside an office building, where you could have a better view.

It was unusually empty of walkers, they left, you thought, in search of warm bodies to feed on.

“There it is”, said Carol, pointing at the wing of the hospital that was part of your view

“”What do we do?”, ask Daryl, “coming rushing in?”

“I don’t think it’s the best idea”, you murmured, “we have the surprise factor but we have no idea what are we getting into”, you whispered

“We need to get Beth back”

“Why are you looking for Beth?”, the three of you jumped at the intrusion, you turned around quickly, arms in the air, to came face to face with a boy

“Ye’ know Beth?”, Daryl asked quickly

“Yes, the both of us were trapped in the hospital”, he said quickly, “she help me get out”

“We are Beth’s family”, said Carol, “we need to get her back”

“The thing’s a fortress”, he said, “men armed to the teeth, they have the numbers and the weapons”, he said

“We also have numbers and weapons”, muttered Daryl.

“Why you’d scape?”, you asked the boy

“What?”

“Why did you have to escape? Why were they holding you against your will?”, you asked then

“The place is run by this policewoman”, he said, “she’ll save you, but then makes you work, to pay them for their service”, you hummed, “they won’t let you leave because they believe there is nothing out there, it’s… weird”

“Can we dialogue with her?”, you asked then, if they were not going to ask anything, you were going to.

“I dunno”, he said. You sighed, you looked back at Carol and Daryl, who were looking back at you expectantly.

“We should go back and get the others”, Carol said decisively

“You sure?”, you asked, “this could escalate”, you muttered, “meaning, what are we gonna do, take hostages?”, you mocked, they shared looks, all of them, with the kid too, “No!”, you said

“There is no other way”, the kid said

“How did you escape? Is there a way you can sneak us back in?”, you asked

“There is no way in”, he said surely

“We’r gettin Rick”, said Daryl, “and your coming with us”, he said to the kid

“I’m Noah, by the way”, he said

“I’m Daryl”

“Carol”

“(y/n)”, you presented yourself. And you had a very strong feeling about this, something was going to be very wrong.

Post chapter notes: sorry if this feels like a filler chapter, but again, I needed to tell part of reader’s story, another part is coming, it’s called “Exterminators Inc” which tells the story of reader’s past before she found Rick

Should I leave Beth alive? I was thinking of ways to "keep her" int he story but i don't know how that might work in the future

#misguidedcats #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead #daryl twd #carol peletier #daryl x reader #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #daryl x y/n

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atlurbanist · 2 months ago

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Colony Square in Midtown Atlanta, pictured in the mid 1970s after construction finished.

This may have been Atlanta's first big mixed-use project, featuring offices, a hotel, residences, and commercial space. I recall visiting it as a kid and the place was amazing to me -- it felt like a little slice of "big city" in a part of town dominated by low-rise buildings.

It's fairly dwarfed now by what's been nearby built since then.

#atlanta #urbanism

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bullet-prooflove · 10 months ago

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Trying!Series Part One: Notions - Will Trent x Reader

Tagging: @yezzyyae @words-and-seeds @trublu2u @cassiopeiablog @kmc1989 @littleesilvia @oscarisaacispunk @elizabeththebat @zerostarzzz @five-hargreeves-apologist @pixiedust4000 @jemimah-b99 @nincompoopydoo @multifandom63 @sgt-spooky @fatefuldestinies @marie-mali @myloversprayer @wheelerdixon @genericbrowngirl @secretsquirrelinc @foxfable @delightfulheroshoeflap

You and Will don’t work together anymore, you haven’t since the two of you got serious. That’s why he has Faith, and you have Grant. You work on your own cases in your office at the opposite end of the floor. The distance puts you out of each other’s proximity. Neither of you mind, there’s less distractions this way.

It’s been a couple of days since you’ve been in each other’s orbits. His case has taken him out of town on a few overnight stays and by the time he made it home this morning you were already in the office. Phone calls during the trip were sparse because he’d sharing a room with Faith. He’s missing you fiercely by the time he turns up at GBI with lunch from Fabio’s. He hates being away from you for too long.

“It’s your day off Will.” Amanda calls as he walks by her open door.

“I’m here to see my wife.” He calls back, holding up the takeaway bag. He’d swear on his momma’s grave that he sees the edges of her mouth tip up into a smile before she busies herself with paperwork.

The two of you have been married over a year at this point. You’ve kept your maiden name but Will doesn’t mind, he’s understands the complexities that come with being connected to him. There’s still folks in the Atlanta PD who would rather see him dead in the street than work a case with him. It’s died down a little over the past few years, but he can still feel the vitriol when he arrives on a fresh scene.

It's quiet in your office when he raps his knuckles on the door, it’s unusual because you usually hate the silence, you find it grating. You always have music on, something you can hum or sing along to.

“Come in.” You say quietly and he frowns because the soft tone of your voice…

It’s usually reserved for your most intimate moments.

The room is dark when he opens the door, instead of the overhead fluorescent lighting you have your desk light on, illuminating the small space.

“Sugar…” He begins before catching himself.

You press a finger to your lips before he closes the door gently behind him.

There’s a baby in your arms. A girl, he assumes from the pink onesie that she’s clad in. She’s a tiny little thing, not more than a couple of months old by his account. She’s tucked in against your chest, her face pressed into the hollow of your neck, her fist gripping the collar of your shirt. Your palm supports the back of her head, thumb caressing her dark featherlight hair.

It awakens something in him, something he hadn’t even considered before because children, they’ve never been an option. He’s been living in the present all these years and finally in this moment he realises he’s staring down the barrel of his future, the one he could have if he wants it. He imagines the two of you on the couch, your child curled up on his chest as they listen to you read.

“Who is she?” He asks quietly as he sets the takeout bag upon your desk as carefully as she can.

“We don’t know.” You say, keeping your tone light and airy. “We found her in a crackhouse we raided. Child services are dragging their feet as usual, so she gets to stay here with us for the time being.”

It kills Will to hear that, you know it does. The thought of this little one being abandoned to the system leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“Would you mind taking her?” You ask him, shifting in your seat. “I’ve needed the bathroom for about thirty minutes.”

“Of course not.” Will says reaching for the child.

He’s awkward at first, unsure of what to do with his arms but then something just clicks, and it becomes instinctive. He draws her close and she snuggles into his chest, her cheek pressing against the space where his heart resides.

“I’ve been calling her Angel.” You tell him, the edges of your mouth tipping up into a smile.

“That she is.” He murmurs as he looks down at the little one.

When you leave the room, he finds himself rocking gently, he watches the baby’s eyelids flutter closed as he sings that song under his breath, the one he was listening to when he realised that he was in love with you.

The First Day of My Life…

He wants this, a family of his own. The two of you have so much love to give, and right now he’s happy, but there’s something’s missing and he feels it deep down in his heart. He glances up to see you lingering in the doorway and when he sees the expression on your face, he knows you feel it too.

That night you throw away your birth control and the next step of your life together begins.

Love Will? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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#will trent x reader #will trent x you #will trent #ramon rodriguez

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stratuspropertygroup · 10 months ago

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Office Space In Atlanta

Unlocking the Ideal Office Space in Atlanta: A Broker's Insight

In the dynamic hub of Atlanta, unlocking the perfect office space can feel like navigating a labyrinth. As businesses strive to optimize their environments for productivity and expansion, the role of an commercial real estate broker becomes indispensable. In this article, we'll provide a third-party perspective on the pivotal role of a broker and how they streamline the journey to discovering the optimal workspace.

Deciphering the Broker's Role

A commercial real estate broker is a seasoned professional dedicated to guiding businesses in their quest for tailored office spaces. With a finger on the pulse of the local real estate scene, these experts offer invaluable insights into market trends and available properties, making them indispensable allies in the pursuit of the perfect workspace.

Charting Atlanta's Office Space Terrain

Atlanta's office space panorama is as diverse as it is vast, spanning from downtown high-rises to serene suburban enclaves. Amidst this abundance, pinpointing the ideal location, size, and amenities to bolster business operations can be daunting. Enter the broker, bridging the gap between enterprises and the myriad office spaces available, ensuring a seamless match.

The Advantages of Collaborating with a Broker

Market Mastery: Armed with a wealth of knowledge about Atlanta's real estate ecosystem, commercial real estate brokers provide businesses with the latest market insights, rental trends, and property availability, empowering informed decision-making.

Tailored Guidance: By delving deep into a business's unique requirements, brokers curate bespoke recommendations aligned with company size, budget, industry nuances, and growth projections.

Access to Unrivalled Listings: With an extensive network, brokers unlock a treasure trove of listings, spanning both public and off-market properties, broadening horizons and enhancing the likelihood of discovering the perfect space.

Negotiation Prowess: Negotiating lease terms demands finesse. A broker brings their negotiation acumen to the table, securing favorable terms for businesses, encompassing lease rates, durations, and tenant improvement allowances.

Time Optimization: The quest for office space can devour precious time, diverting focus from core business functions. Commercial real estate brokers streamline this process, conserving invaluable time and resources.

Holistic Comparative Analysis: Brokers furnish businesses with comprehensive property comparisons, weighing factors such as location, amenities, accessibility to transportation hubs, and growth potential, facilitating informed choices.

Partnering with a Broker in Atlanta

Initial Consultation: The journey typically commences with an in-depth consultation, where the broker hones in on the business's needs, preferences, and financial parameters.

Property Curation: Based on the insights gleaned, the broker meticulously curates a selection of properties aligned with the business's criteria, presenting them for consideration.

Property Showcases: Guided property tours orchestrated by the broker offer firsthand experiences, allowing businesses to envisage their operations within the chosen spaces.

Negotiation and Lease Finalization: Upon identifying the ideal space, the broker deftly negotiates with property owners or landlords, advocating for favorable lease terms and shepherding businesses through the agreement process.

Continuous Support: Brokers provide unwavering support throughout the lease term, addressing any concerns or challenges that may arise, ensuring a seamless occupancy experience.

Selecting the Right Broker

A prudent selection process is paramount when choosing a broker in Atlanta:

Reputation: Prioritize brokers with sterling reputations, backed by a track record of successful transactions and glowing client endorsements.

Local Proficiency: Opt for brokers well-versed in Atlanta's market intricacies, from neighborhood nuances to available office landscapes.

Communication: Effective communication is pivotal. Choose a broker renowned for attentive listening, clear understanding of needs, and transparent communication.

Transparency: Ensure transparency regarding fees and potential conflicts of interest, fostering trust and transparency in the partnership.

In Conclusion

In Atlanta's fiercely competitive business arena, securing the ideal office space is a strategic imperative. Collaborating with a commercial real estate broker simplifies this endeavor, leveraging their market prowess, bespoke guidance, and negotiation finesse. Stratus Property Group serves as trusted advisors, empowering businesses to navigate the labyrinth of securing a workspace that mirrors their ambitions. By forging alliances with brokers, enterprises can make astute decisions, optimize their environments, and channel their energies towards driving growth and innovation. Learn more today about how Stratus Property Group can assist you in finding the perfect office space in the Atlanta market. Contact us today!

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venturexatlantabuckhead · 2 years ago

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At Venture X Atlanta Buckhead, a virtual office address, businesses or individuals get a professional mailing address. A virtual office for rent includes mail handling. Mailbox rental services provide individuals or businesses with a mailbox or mailing address where they can receive mail and packages.

#Dedicated Desks in Atlanta #Office Space in Atlanta #Private Office Space for Rent Buckhead Atlanta #Executive Office Space in Atlanta #Coworking Space in Atlanta #Shared Office Space for Rent in Atlanta #Virtual Office Space for Rent in Atlanta #Lease Office Space in Atlanta #Venture x Shared Workspace #Meeting Room in Atlanta #shared office space #shared office for rent

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gellymark-blog · 2 years ago

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Grow Your Business With Office Space Rental In Atlanta

Office space rental provides a flexible and convenient solution for businesses in need of a professional workspace. These spaces are typically offered by specialized providers who offer fully equipped offices, meeting rooms, and support services. Additionally, companies can enjoy the flexibility of scaling up or down their office space based on their needs, allowing them to adapt to changing business requirements.

#office-space-rental-atlanta

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essentiallyflown · 3 months ago

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i want us, too

Back and forth. “Jack, stop stressing, it’ll be okay”

Back and forth “Do you even want to be here?”

Push and pull “I never indicated that I didn’t want to be”

Left and right “You’re never here so what should I be thinking then?”

Up then down “I want this, okay?”

“I want us”

3 months ago

“Happy 1 year anniversary, my love” you and Jack were sitting in his backyard in Louisville, all decorated with lights and flowers. Being secluded and alone is exactly what you both needed. “I can’t believe you did all of this,” you commented as the night continued on in harmony.

“So I was thinking,” Jack starts up again as you hum in response “Looking at our current life standings, you should move in”. You are currently living out in Atlanta, as your job requires you to be near the main office but doing most work online and at home.

“Yeah that’s definitely a possibility,” you replied, trying to sidestep the topic. But Jack pressed on. “Do you have something else going on or what?”

“I love you, and I want us to flourish,” Jack interjected. “But?”

You sigh in defeat “No but. I’m just not sure if us moving in together is what I need right now.”

Silence filled the space. Jack avoided your gaze, and you felt the distance grow between you. You want exactly what he does, so you try to comprehend why he wants it as soon as possible.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I understand,” Jack’s response is truth in it all, he does understand. “Jack, let’s just spend the rest of the week focusing on us okay? And when the opportunity of us moving in comes through, we’ll know”

Now

Louisville was quiet. The streetlights glowed softly, the world winding down.

Expect you and Jack, of course.

“Jack, why now? Why are you so adamant about this?” You’re chasing after him as he’s pacing around. Jack brought up the idea of you taking the next steps in your relationship and moving in together. With Jack, everything moves fast. That’s just how his life has been and your relationship has always been in those gears.

“I can’t wrap my head around why you don’t want to. It makes sense!” His frustration simmered.

“Jack, you’re not listening to me. You hear me, but you aren’t listening,” you replied, fighting to stay calm.

“Because what you’re saying is bullshit!”

“Oh, so what I’m saying is invalid?”

“That’s not what I meant!”

Time's being wasted, screaming, not listening- I promise you'll hear me better

And on and on it went. He’s yelling at you, you’re screaming at him. You both can hear each other but nobody's listening. Your communication is severely declining and you both don’t know what to do.

“Do you even love me?”

You stare at Jack in disbelief. You couldn’t even formulate words to respond back. You’ve travelled to see him, went on tour with him, came to all his interviews and sat through his long studio sessions. Below all of that, you held him up when he couldn’t. You kissed his deepest scars and took care of him. He pushes himself day and night and you make sure that it’s your arms he goes back to.

And he has the audacity to ask if you love him.

You sat on the ground and looked everywhere but never met his gaze. Tears started to form and you silently whispered “How could you ask that?” You didn’t even notice that he was sitting in front of you. Jack’s face was written with guilt. He regretted those words the moment they left his mouth because he knows that you’ve done above and beyond for him. For the both of you. “Explain to me why. I’m right here- I’m listening”

You took a shaky breath before finding your voice. ““I want exactly what you want. I want us to be together for as long as we can. Period. We both know the baseline of our relationship—why would we rush it or put a timeline on what we want? Why can’t we just decide naturally when the time is right to move forward?”

Jack takes a deep breath and nods. “That makes sense- I’m so sorry. I just really need this to work. I don’t want to lose you. I want us” you embrace his touch while he spews out apology after apology. “It’s okay Jack”

I want us, too

#writers on tumblr #jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x you #jack harlow x y/n #Spotify

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 2 months ago

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By: Wilfred Reilly

Published: Nov 27, 2023

Why do respected institutions continue to propound verifiably wrong conspiracy theories about how dangerous America is?

It is around 35 times more dangerous to be black than to be transgender in America — and at least an order of magnitude more dangerous to be a young and working-class white guy, a Southerner, or a Yank of Hispanic origin.

This seems relevant given that a national event titled “Transgender Day of Remembrance” took place just a few days ago. White House press secretary Karine Jean-Pierre took the occasion to mount the podium for a formal press briefing attended by many national media outlets — during which she declared that the United States “grieves” for the all of 26 transgender Americans killed in 2023. These victims, Jean-Pierre went on to emphasize, were no mere Dead White Males but “disproportionately black women and women of color.”

Jean-Pierre’s statistics came from the Human Rights Campaign, an influential pro-LGBT lobbying group that organizes Trans Remembrance Day (as part of the broader Transgender Awareness Week) on an annual basis and frequently publishes reports on anti-transgender brutality with titles like “An Epidemic of Violence.” The visibility of such content has apparently had an effect: A Google search for the phrase “trans genocide” turns up an online-encyclopedia article that prints out to five closely spaced pages and defines that term as “the elevated level of systemic violence and discrimination that exists against trans people” in the West.

The only catch is that no such systemic violence exists. According to Jean-Pierre herself — and, presumably, to an LGBT-rights group with every interest in magnifying the phenomenon — the total number of trans-identified Americans known to have been killed in 2023 is 26. If we round that up to 30 (to account for December) and assume that just 1 percent of the U.S. population is trans (given that, as one very limited survey shows, around 3 percent of young Americans are), we obtain an annual transgender-murder rate of 30 in 3.32 million, or just 0.9 people per 100,000 people. Even if we, alternatively, assume an American trans population of just 1.6 million — to gel with one high-quality but conservative recent estimate — the resulting murder rate would be merely 1.9 per 100,000 people.

To put that in context, the murder rate for blacks in the U.S. is currently 30–33 per 100,000 people. The African-American community is an outlier but not necessarily a remarkable one: In a representative recent year, 4.5 percent of black-male deaths were the results of homicide, versus 2.3 percent for American Indians, 2.2 percent for Hispanics, 2 percent for Hawaiians and other Pacific Islanders . . . and 4.9 percent for all whites under full majority. To say the obvious, all of these groups are currently living far more dangerously than “trans women.”

Further, almost none of the small number of murders of trans people recorded in 2023 were due to “transphobia” from the MAGA-hat set. According to an excellent breakdown posted to social media by writer Pi Campbell, the “victims” highlighted by the Human Rights Campaign included such citizens as Banko Brown (the San Francisco thief/robber shot during a confrontation with a security guard), Manuel “Tortuguita” Terán (an armed environmental activist killed during a shootout with Atlanta police during the violent Stop Cop City protests), and DéVonnie J’Rae Johnson (a trans woman who attacked a security officer with a fire extinguisher).

Others on the list were Maria Jose Rivera — killed in a tragic and widely publicized murder-suicide involving her boyfriend — Camdyn Rider (murder-suicide with husband), Thomas “Tom-Tom” Robertson (victim of a shooting targeting someone else), and a black trans fashion plate called “YOKO” (hit by an SUV while piloting a small scooter). So far as I can tell, not one proven or even seriously alleged hate crime appears anywhere on the Human Rights Campaign’s list.

Also, few of the murders of these (mostly) trans-identified males seem to have occurred anywhere near MAGA country. Per my analysis of the list, which I ran by a research associate and a friend in law enforcement, only four of the 26 victims, and three or four of their killers, were white. Sixteen victims were black and five were Hispanic, while seven murderers were identified as black, at least two were Hispanic, and seven were unknown (most of the remaining killers were police or security guards of various races).

I will note that this point has been made previously by the skilled gonzo journalist Andy Ngo, who earned a few weeks of internet infamy in 2019 for digging into a series of anti-trans attacks and summing up his resulting data set as: “Who is behind the murders? Mostly Black men.” That year, I made some of the same points detailed above for the magazine Quillette: pointing out that the annual number of trans fatalities was around 29, and that this broke down to a grand total of one killing for every 67,690 transgender Americans.

The “trans genocide” hysteria, wholly untethered from reality, does not stand alone. Over the past decade or so, American discourse has fallen prey to what often seems like a constant stream of stupid and baseless panics. At one point during the Black Lives Matter mania, one of the nation’s top attorneys — Ben Crump — penned a best-selling book that unironically argues that white cops and vigilantes are committing “genocide” against black people. When the highly respected Skeptic Research Center conducted large-n polling on the issue of police violence just two years later, it found that one of the most common answers given by both black and Caucasian leftists to the question of how many unarmed blacks they thought were shot annually by cops was “about 10,000.” The real number, per last year’s data from the not-much-right-of-Lenin Washington Post, was “twelve.”

On some level, the real question here is “Why?” Why do powerful figures and respected institutions — the president of the United States and his spox, from behind the White House podium! — continue to propound insanely and verifiably wrong conspiracy theories about how dangerous the country is? I think that the answer is because, to paraphrase Larry Elder, there is a Narrative to save.

For both “ethical” and strategic reasons — Crump made his millions by suing police officers involved in racialized cases — many members of the American elite have publicly committed themselves to the belief that racism and other forms of bias explain all disparities in group outcomes. Publicly advancing this narrative requires having at least some examples of extreme racism, sexism, and so forth on hand to display. The problem is that, in modern upper-middle-class American life, these things rarely exist. The demand for horrors far exceeds their supply, and it may sometimes become . . . strategically necessary to invent some.

This reality, I believe, accounts for a pattern with which we have all become increasingly familiar. First, a horrific claim of bias is made (Jussie Smollett, Covington Catholic High School, Duke University lacrosse, Michael Brown, Jacob Blake, Canadian mass graves, Black Lives Matter, Stop Asian Hate). Next, major social changes are made based on the claim and its implications. Third and finally, the unsupported claim collapses.

When we see social movements like the Trans Day of Remembrance, it is important that we all — well — remember this cycle.

[ Via: https://archive.today/AyJJr ]

When activists use this kind of histrionic language, it's a sure sign that it's fake.

#Wilfred Reilly #hate crime hoax #hate crime #trans genocide #transgender genocide #hoaxes #Trans Day of Remembrance #gender ideology #systemic violence #religion is a mental illness

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