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[killeromanoff]

I KNOW YOUR GHOST | ch. 2

summary: Months after Venturer's official approval, Declan O’Hara's latest broadcast takes center stage, his incisive interview style sparking reactions from viewers—and Cassie Jones. Spending the evening at Baz’s bar, Cassie finds herself caught between reluctant admiration and lingering resentment for Declan’s relentless drive.

pairing: Declan O’Hara x Cassandra 'Cassie' Jones (Female OC)

warnings: Mild language, Themes of Corruption, Power dynamics, Age-Gap (Cassie is 25 yo), Moral conflict, Slow-burn tension, Alcohol Use, Realism in Media Industry, Cassie is always in distress mode

w.c: 7k

[prologue], [chapter one], [here], [chapter three], [chapter four]

o2. But I can't get her outta my sight

Declan sat in his study, a sanctuary of muted tones and understated elegance. The polished surface of his mahogany desk reflected the faint glow of the desk lamp, its circle of light casting the rest of the room into a warm shadow. Shelves of books lined the walls, their spines forming a mosaic of knowledge and ambition accumulated over the years.

A hint of cigar smoke clung to the air.

A stack of notes lay before him, meticulously organized yet untouched. He had intended to review them for tonight’s show on Venturer, he has studied and written everything down for the past week. Yet his pen had stilled, his attention wandering far from the political breakdowns and exposés he usually found energizing.

Instead, his mind was tangled in thoughts of Cassie Jones.

The doubt in her eyes was striking—not just a fleeting hesitation, but something deeper, a quiet war between uncertainty and conviction. Yet, it was that same doubt that seemed to amplify the glow of her fierce determination, as if her fears only highlighted the brilliance of her resolve.

Her gaze, dark and willful, resisted him, darting away like a bird wary of being caught.

But in those few moments when their eyes met… It was impossible to look away. There was a rhythm to her words, calculated and unhurried, as though each syllable carried a secret she was daring him to uncover. Her voice was a melody he couldn’t quite place—familiar enough to draw him in, yet distant enough to leave him looking for more.

Her lips parted and closed with the precision of a storyteller, shaping each word in a way that made even the most banal details sound extraordinary. There was a magnetism to her presence, an energy that turned a simple conversation into something unforgettable.

Not that he stared at her lips. He hadn't. If someone asked him about them, he wouldn't know what color they were. A shade somewhere between the warmth of a dusky rose and the faint blush of autumn’s last leaves.

In short, the conversation between them that early afternoon lingered—not as a memory, but as a sensation, persistent and impossible to ignore.

It felt foolish , truly. That was the best word to describe the whole situation.

He couldn’t decide what annoyed him more: the fact that his thoughts were so easily hijacked or that he had let them linger. There were always more pressing matters to deal with—scripts to finalize, segments to tighten, the never-ending negotiations with sponsors… Venturer wasn’t just a television station; it was a warfront, the last bastion of independent media in Rutshire.

And yet, here he was , caught up in the memory of a single conversation.

What made it worse was that it wasn’t even a conversation that should have stood out. He’d met people with stronger résumés, sharper tongues, and more experience in front of a microphone.

But Cassie... She wasn’t polished , and that was the very thing that stayed with him. Her honesty felt raw, untamed—a blade still learning the strength of its edge.

Foolish. The word echoed in his head.

He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. What was it about her that unsettled him?

Was it her conviction? The quiet courage hidden beneath layers of uncertainty? Or perhaps it was the vulnerability she carried so openly? The kind that didn’t ask for pity but challenged you to see it and still believe in her strength.

And yet, her resistance baffled him. How could someone so driven, so clearly destined for something bigger, shy away from a platform?

His fingers tapped absently against the desk as he tried to reconcile her fear of the screen with what he had seen in her.

In his mind’s eye, he could picture her features perfectly—the elegant line of her jaw, the soft curve of her cheekbones, the intensity in her eyes when she spoke about what mattered. He could see how the camera would frame her, how the lights would catch the warm tones in her hair, and how her expressions, so honest and unguarded, would translate to the audience.

She didn’t see it, but he did .

Her face was made for the screen, not because of perfection, but because of its authenticity. It would draw people in, hold them captive. She didn’t need to be polished; she was already compelling in a way that made the camera irrelevant.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

“Come in,” he called, his voice steady despite the jumble in his head.

The door creaked open, and Taggie stepped inside, her auburn hair catching the soft light from the lamp. She was dressed casually, her apron dusted with flour, a reminder of the event she was catering later.

“Still brooding?” she teased gently, holding a letter in one hand while absently smoothing her apron with the other.

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but her tone carried genuine concern.

“Brooding?” Declan repeated, his voice amused, “I prefer ‘preparing.’ ”

“For the show or something else?” she countered, stepping closer. Her gaze landed briefly on the untouched notes before flicking back to him, “You look... Distracted.”

Declan exhales, leaning back in his chair, “I visited Cassie Jones today.”

Taggie’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Cassie Jones? The Cassie Jones? You mean the one from the radio?”

She stepped closer, as though proximity would confirm his words. Her tone changed, and her thoughts flickered back to the previous morning.

Yesterday, the kitchen had been filled with the sound of Cassie’s fiery monologue, her unrelenting voice cutting through the room like a razor. Rupert had leaned in, more amused than anything else, but her father—she remembered her father: he’d been completely still , eyes fixed on the radio with an intensity she hadn’t seen in months.

That explains why he hadn’t had dinner last night , Taggie wondered.

Declan nodded, his expression contemplative.

“She has potential, Taggie,” he paused, searching for the right words, “Raw, unpolished, but it’s there. I want her on Venturer.”

“You’re recruiting her?” she asked, her voice with a hint of curiosity and excitement, “I didn’t think I’d ever see the day you’d bring someone like her in. Isn’t she— well , shy?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” he admitted, his voice taking on a thoughtful edge, “She’s terrified of being seen, but she’s brilliant. The way she speaks... It’s not just reporting. It’s storytelling. She makes people care.”

Taggie studied him for a moment, her head tilting as she considered his words. There was something about the way he spoke—quiet but charged with energy, a drive that hadn’t been there in a while…

Her father had always been passionate, but this was different. There was a spark, something that reminded her of the early days of Venturer, when everything was just a shot in the dark.

“You’re really invested in this,” Taggie lifted a brow, “Aren’t you?”

Declan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze dropped to the scattered notes on his desk, their edges curling slightly under the soft glow of the desk lamp. His fingers tapped idly against the wood as he tried to put his thoughts into words.

 “Let’s just say,” he murmured, “It’s been a while since someone reminded me why we started Venturer in the first place.”

“It’s good to see you like this again,” Taggie’s smile widened, “You’ve never been so focused, so determined since we won the franchise approval—it’s like you’ve finally found something that excites you again.”

Declan chuckled, though the sound was tinged with self-awareness, “Don’t read too much into it, Taggie. I’m just doing my job.”

“Sure you are,” she said, a touch of mischief in her tone, “But I’m not complaining. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you looking this... Alive.”

She hesitated for a moment before adding, “Do you think she’ll accept?”

Declan’s expression grew thoughtful, his gaze distant.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “Freddie’s been trying to bring her on board since we got the franchise approval. She’s always said no. But today…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing as he thought back to their conversation.

“But today?” Taggie prompted, stepping closer, her curiosity clearly piqued.

“She seemed... Torn ,” Declan replied, “Like part of her wanted to say yes, even if she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She’s hesitant, scared even, but she’s not someone who backs down easily. If she sees what we see in her... She’ll come around.”

Taggie studied her father again, a knowing expression in the way she furrowed her brows, “You’re really invested in this, aren’t you?”

Declan met her gaze, a flicker of something undefinable in his expression—determination, perhaps, or something even deeper.

“It’s not just about her, Taggie,” he said after a moment, “It’s about what she represents. Venturer was supposed to be about giving people like her a voice, wasn’t it? People who can make others listen, who can make them care.

“Well, I hope she sees that”, a soft smile tugged at the corners of Taggie’s lips, “And I hope she knows how lucky she’d be to work with someone like you.”

Declan chuckled again, though it was quieter this time, tinged with something almost self-deprecating.

“Don’t go turning me into a saint, Taggie. I’m just trying to do what’s right—for Venturer and for her.”

Taggie hesitated, watching him for a moment before stepping forward and placing the envelope on his desk.

“Just don’t let this drive of yours keep you from dealing with this,” she said softly, her fingers brushing the edge of the envelope.

Declan’s gaze followed her gesture, his brow furrowing as he took in the sight of the crumpled edges and the weight it seemed to carry. How it quickly changed his daughter’s humor.

“What is it?” he asked, though something in the pit of his stomach already knew the answer.

“It’s from Mum’s lawyer,” Taggie replied quietly, “The final papers.”

Declan’s breath caught, the words dripping between them like a heavy curtain. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he reached out to take the envelope. The paper felt heavier than it should, as though the culmination of everything—months of silence, arguments, the growing distance—was contained within it.

How could she not answer any of his letters and the first one she sent to them, her family, was the divorce papers?

“I see,” he said in the silence, almost whispering, his grip on the envelope tightened.

Taggie hesitated, her eyes scanning his face as though trying to gauge his reaction, “Are you okay?”

Declan chuckled, but it was devoid of humor.

“That’s a loaded question.”

The corner of her lips twitched, but her attempt at a smile faded just as quickly.

“I know it’s not what you wanted, Dad. I know how hard you tried to hold things together.”

“Did I?” Declan asked, almost to himself. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze falling to the envelope in his hands, “Or did I just try to hold on to the idea of us? To what I thought we were supposed to be, instead of what we actually were?”

Taggie bit her lip, unsure of how to respond. The silence that followed wasn’t tense, but it was loaded as the question of before. There was a shared grief for something that had been unraveling for longer than either of them cared to admit.

“She made her choice,” Declan continued, his tone low, “And maybe... Maybe it’s for the best. For her. For both of us.”

“Maybe,” Taggie said softly, though she didn’t sound convinced.

Declan glanced at her, his expression softening.

“What about you? How are you handling all this?”

Taggie bit her lip, clearly taken aback by her father’s question. She hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering downward as though the answer might somehow be hidden in the floorboards.

“I’ve had time to process it, I guess,” she responded, her voice quieter than before. She shrugged, slipping her hands into the pockets of her apron, “It doesn’t make it hurt any less, but... I’m not angry anymore. Just… S-S—”

Her voice faltered, the word slipping from her grasp.

“Sad?” Declan offered gently, watching as her jaw tightened.

“Yes,” she said, nodding a bit too quickly, “ Sad. ”

Her struggle with the word wasn’t lost on him. It was a passing moment, brief but telling. Declan knew how Taggie’s dyslexia sometimes crept into her life in ways she didn’t expect—moments of hesitation or the occasional stumble over a word when emotions ran high.

It wasn’t something she let define her, but it was always there.

Over the past months, with Maud gone and Taggie stepping up beside him, Declan had seen more of it than he ever had before. At first, he had felt like the worst father in the world for not noticing sooner, for letting the chaos of his own life distract him from hers. It took him some time to understand—not just how it was for her, but the quiet strength with which she handled them.

It humbled him, this quiet resilience of hers.

You’ve handled it well, he wanted to say, but instead, he offered her a smile.

She looked at him, surprised by the sudden gesture. But the small, appreciative smile she gave in return told him he had done the right thing. He was still trying, and that was enough.

For a moment, the room was quiet, save for the soft hum of wind and the creak of the floorboards beneath their feet. Declan found himself studying her expression, the way her eyes mirrored his own weariness but had a resilience that was unmistakably hers.

“I suppose sadness is easier to live with than resentment,” he said, more to himself than to her.

Taggie nodded, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Well, I should get back to work. The buffet for Mrs. Spencer’s gala won’t prepare itself.”

Declan raised an eyebrow, “A gala? And they’ve roped you into catering for it?”

“Not roped,” she corrected, “I volunteered . Keeps me busy.”

He gave her a look, one that carried both fondness and a hint of fatherly skepticism.

“Just don’t let them take advantage of you.”

Taggie laughed softly, the sound warm but subdued.

“Don’t worry, Dad. I can handle Mrs. Spencer.”

She turned to leave but paused at the door, glancing back at him. Her expression softened, the hint of concern in her eyes mirroring the quiet care she always tried to mask with humor.

“And you? Will you be okay?”

Declan offered a faint smile, “I’ve got notes to review and a show to prepare for. I’ll manage.”

Taggie nodded, staying for a moment longer before slipping out of the room.

The silence that followed her departure wasn’t empty; it was filled with the echoes of their conversation, the unspoken words that always seemed to hover between them. Declan’s gaze fell to the envelope on his desk, its stark presence a reminder of what had already unraveled. He stared at it for a long moment, his fingers brushing the sharp edges, the sensation grounding him in the heaviness of the moment.

The ache in his chest deepened, not sharp but persistent, like a bruise that refused to fade. Maud’s absence wasn’t new; it had been a constant shadow for months, haunting him at the edges of every room, every thought. He could still hear her voice in the quiet moments, see her smile in the periphery of his mind.

They had tried, hadn’t they ? Yet, here it was—the finality of a marriage reduced to paper and ink.

Declan leaned back in his chair, his head tipping slightly as he closed his eyes. The memories pressed in, uninvited but relentless. The laughter they had shared, the fights that had grown sharper over time, the silences that had said more than words ever could. He wondered, not for the first time, if there had been a point where they could have turned it around—if he could have been someone different, better , for her.

The ache tightened, and he exhaled slowly, as if trying to release it. But as his thoughts circled Maud and the void her absence left, another voice crept into his mind.

Cassie .

Her words reverberated in his memory, not as a balm to the pain but something else. The raw honesty in her tone, the conviction laced with doubt, had a way of unsettling him, of pulling his focus from the ache of what was lost to the possibilities of what could be.

That's what she usually talked about in her past broadcasts, right? In the projects she had done in Chicago? How there was always a possibility, a light in the end of the tunnel, despite people locking all your windows and doors?

He sat up straighter, his gaze falling to the notes scattered before him again. The words blurred for a moment, stubbornly refusing to take shape. But as he thought of Cassie—her eyes, her words, her fear—it was as though something clicked into place.

It wasn’t just about giving people a platform , he remembered, it was about finding the voices that mattered, the ones that could cut through the noise and make people listen.

Declan’s lips quirked into a smile, the kind that came unbidden, as he turned his attention back to his notes. The spark of inspiration she had ignited within him was enough to push the rest aside, at least for now.

There was a show to prepare for, and tonight, he felt ready.

The bar was alive in its muted way—a quiet chatter and the occasional clink of glassware against polished wood. It wasn’t the raucous energy of a weekend crowd but the steady rhythm of regulars, the kind of people who found comfort in routine. Cassie sat at her usual corner, her drink untouched, save for the condensation slipping down its sides.

The golden light from the overhead fixtures cast a soft glow on the surface of the bar, making everything look warmer than it felt.

Bas moved with the practiced ease of someone who had owned this space for years. His motions were fluid, as though the rhythm of tending bar wasn’t a job but an extension of himself.

His dark hair, perpetually tousled in a way that suggested he didn’t care—or maybe cared too much—caught the light whenever he turned. His eyes scanned the room, but they kept returning to Cassie, watching the tension in her shoulders, the tight grip she had on her glass.

“Alright, Jones,” he said, leaning over the counter with a lopsided grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “You’re quieter than usual. Either someone’s died, or you’re brooding about something big… Again .”

Cassie shot him a look, one that was stabbing but softened by the weak tug at the corner of her lips.

“Always with the optimism, Bas.”

“It’s my charm,” he quipped. But the teasing in his tone didn’t mask the concern that was beneath it.

She sighed, her fingers drumming lightly against the bar’s surface, “Let’s just say it’s been a day.”

Bas’s eyebrow arched as he slid a pint across the bar to a waiting regular, his movements unhurried but precise. His attention, however, was fixed on Cassie, the practiced ease in his gaze giving way to a flicker of curiosity. The murmured conversations, the muted clatter of glasses—seemed distant, a backdrop to the conversation they were having.

“A day, huh?” Bas leaned a little closer, his lips drawing into an amused smile, “Sounds vague,” he added, lifting an eyebrow in mock challenge, “Care to elaborate, or should I start guessing?”

“You’d only guess wrong,” she replied almost immediately, a smirk curling at her lips before she took a long sip from her drink.

Bas didn’t miss a beat. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on the counter, the polished wood cool beneath his hands. His teasing expression softened just a bit, the shift subtle but perceptible.

“Enlighten me, then,” he said, his voice dropping a notch.

Cassie hesitated, her gaze dropping to her glass. But her grip on the glass hardened, her thumb tracing absent patterns against the condensation. She inhaled quietly through her nose, her lips pressing into a thin line as if bracing herself.

“Declan O’Hara showed up at my door this morning.”

The words landed heavily, drawing Bas’s full attention. His playful demeanor faltered, his brow knitting together in thought.

Cassie could see the gears turning behind his eyes, his indissoluble wit piecing together implications faster than he let on. He blinked once, his lips parting as if to speak, but then he let out a low whistle, a sound of disbelief mingled with admiration.

“Well, that’s not nothing,” he said, straightening as his grin returned, this time full of intrigue, “What did the Irish Wolfhound want with you?”

Cassie’s lips twisted into a wry smile, though there was no humor in it. She shrugged, her voice tinged with weariness.

“He wants me on Venturer . Just like you and my uncle.”

Bas’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his head tilting as he considered her words.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, his voice almost reverent. He reached for a cloth, wiping down an already spotless section of the counter as though the action would help him process the news, “One thing’s for sure—it’s not every day Declan O’Hara comes knocking at your door, specifically your door . I mean, me and Freddie? Sure. But him ?” His dark eyes narrowed slightly, “That’s big.”

He set the cloth down, his gaze steady on her, “What did you say?”

Cassie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her shoulders hunching slightly.

“That I’d think about it,” she admitted, the words clipped as though they’d been dragged out of her.

Bas studied her in silence, his expression unreadable, though his brow furrowed as he watched her fidget with her glass. After a long pause, he leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms.

“You never seem thrilled about this,” he remarked, his tone carefully neutral, “Most people would jump at the chance of joining Venturer—especially if it was me inviting them.” His lips drawn into a lopsided grin, a flash of his usual humor breaking through.

“Yeah, well, I’m not most people,” Cassie replied, her voice sharp, the words a defensive barb.

Bas’s grin softened, the teasing edge fading as he regarded her more closely. He reached for a glass of water, taking a slow sip before setting it down with deliberate calm.

“Alright,” he said, his tone quieter but no less insistent, “Let’s hear it. What’s holding you back?”

Cassie’s fingers stilled on the rim of her glass. For a moment, she seemed to shrink into herself, her expression tightening. Her eyes darted to the counter as she wrestled with words that didn’t want to come.

“It’s not that simple,” she muttered finally, her voice low, almost to herself.

“Nothing worth doing ever is,” Bas countered.

Cassie shifted in her seat, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass again.

“I just… I don’t think it’s for me.”

Bas’s laugh was short and dry, a single puff of air that carried no mirth.

“You don’t think it’s for you? Come on, Cass. That’s not an answer. You’ve got a voice people listen to—even when they don’t want to. Hell, you made headlines just by opening your mouth. And now you’re telling me you can’t see yourself in a chair next to Declan?”

Cassie clenched her jaw, the muscles tensing in her neck. The words were there, but they felt too heavy, too real to say out loud.

Her thoughts spiraled, never giving her a rest— Could I? Be in a chair next to him?

What if I say yes and ruin everything?

The offer, the screen, the lights… It was all too much.

What if they really do see something in me that I don’t see in myself?

But that wasn’t the real issue, was it?

“I can’t do it, Bas,” she whispered, as if saying the words could keep the fear at bay.

The issue was if they saw all the mistakes that she knew that was beneath her skin, her choices and her attempts.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, leaning her elbows against the edge of the counter, her head hanging low.

It wasn’t the stage, or the lights. It wasn’t even the fear of failure.

Her mind raced with the images— the screen, the questions, the voices of people in her head, judging, scrutinizing, always waiting for her to slip.

“Why not?” he pressed, not giving up so soon over this subject.

Cassie’s breath caught, she had hoped that he would drop it , as he usually did.

Her pulse quickened, the discomfort twisting in her stomach like a knot pulling tighter with every passing second. She knew what was coming, and still, she couldn’t find the strength to articulate it.

To say the words that circled her thoughts.

Why not? Her mind repeated the question and, as if it was a broken record, it started to repeat again and again., why not? Why not?

What was holding her back?

“Cass—”

Why not?

“I can’t even look you in the eye while we’re talking, Bas,” she snapped, her voice trembling, “How the hell am I supposed to talk to a camera? To an audience?”

There it was—the rawness of the truth.

Her fear wasn’t just about the screen. It was about her inability to stand in front of anyone and not feel exposed, vulnerable. She wasn’t ready to show that side of herself, not to millions of strangers, not when she could barely face the people she cared about.

Bas’s reaction was immediate. The mischief that usually animated his features vanished and turned into something quieter, more serious. He straightened slightly, as though anchoring himself to the counter while Cassie’s turmoil unfolded in front of him.

The ambient noise of the bar—a murmur of laughter, the clinking of glasses—faded into a distant sound, no longer relevant in the charged space between them.

For a moment, Bas said nothing. His gaze held her frame—not in judgment, but in understanding. He wasn’t a man who filled silences lightly, and Cassie had come to appreciate that about him.

The absence of his voice gave hers the room to breathe, even as it quaked under the weight of her uncertainty.

“You’ve always been harder on yourself than anyone else,” he interrupted the silence once he noticed she was more at ease, “You don’t trust what people see in you, Cass, and maybe that’s part of the problem. You think you’ve got to hide everything, like people can’t handle the real you.”

She winced, her fingers hurting against the edges of her glass. Bas had an infuriating way of hitting nerves she hadn’t realized were exposed.

Her eyes flicked to the countertop, the wood grain blurring as a knot tightened in her chest.

“It’s not about hiding,” she muttered, “It’s about… Not giving them the ammunition. You don’t get it, people don’t just listen. They dissect. They pick you apart until there’s nothing left, I’ve seen it.”

“You’re right. I don’t get it—not in the way you do,” He let out a breath, rubbing a hand along his jaw, “But I’ve been in enough storms to know that people don’t waste their time picking apart someone who doesn’t matter. The fact that they’re looking at you? It means you’re already doing something worth their attention.”

Cassie shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips, “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one they’re staring at right now.”

“No,” Bas agreed, his tone too calm, “But I’ve seen what happens when someone refuses to stand up because they’re scared of the fallout. It doesn’t stop the storm—it just leaves someone else to clean up the mess.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his figure, a spark of indignation flaring in her chest.

“So what?” she wondered, “You think I owe it to the world to put myself out there? To be ripped apart just because I have something to say?”

Bas leaned closer, resting a hand on her shoulder—not heavy, but firm enough to anchor her. His dark eyes locked onto hers, steady as ever, but there was something deeper in his expression now. Not pity, not even frustration. Just belief.

This time, Cassie tried to force herself to stare at him back, to see what he was gonna say.

“No,” he said, “I think you owe it to yourself.”

Cassie froze, his words cutting through the haze of her spiraling thoughts. They weren’t flashy or grand, but they had a quiet truth that she couldn’t ignore. For a moment, the emotions that were pressing down on her chest lightened, replaced by something that felt disarmingly close to hope.

She couldn’t stop herself before a smile creeped out of her teeth.

Cassie wanted to believe in him, she truly wanted to. Perhaps, that time she would.

Bas’s hand lingered a moment longer before he stepped back, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips in response to hers.

“Now,” he said, his voice returning to its usual easy warmth, “don’t make me pull out a soapbox, Cass. We’ve got a show to watch.”

She managed a weak laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing slowly as he reached for the remote. The television flickered to life, casting a pale glow over the bar as the opening notes of Venturer’s broadcast filled the room.

Declan O’Hara’s face appeared on the screen, his sharp, commanding presence filling the bar as the opening notes of Venturer’s broadcast faded. The backdrop was strikingly simple—sleek, modern lines contrasting with a warm palette that suggested approachability. The kind of visual balance that made the show feel personal without losing its gravitas.

Cassie leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She didn’t say a word, but Bas caught the way her fingers tapped lightly against her arm in a rhythm too calculated to be unconscious.

“You good?” he asked, keeping his tone light, though his eyes didn’t leave her face.

“Yeah,” she muttered, her gaze fixed on the screen, “Just... Curious to see how he spins it.”

Declan’s voice came into the segment seamlessly—a live interview with a city council member who had been at the center of recent housing debates. The guest looked composed, but there was a tension in his smile, the kind that came from knowing you were about to face someone who wouldn’t let a single inconsistency slide.

He was the Irish Wolfhound , after all.

“Here we go,” Bas muttered, leaning in his seat, clearly expecting fireworks.

Cassie didn’t respond, her focus on the screen unbroken. Declan’s approach was surgical, every question calibrated to draw out information without tipping into outright confrontation. His tone remained calm, professional, but there was no mistaking the intent behind his words.

He was peeling back the layers of the council member’s carefully rehearsed answers, pushing him to explain vague statements and sidestep slippery rhetoric.

“Man’s a scalpel,” Bas said under his breath, shaking his head, “Doesn’t let up, does he?”

“It’s effective,” Cassie admitted, her tone grudging. There was something fascinating about watching Declan work—how he managed to command the room without ever raising his voice, how he drew the audience into the conversation without alienating his guest.

It was a skill she recognized, even admired, though she’d never admit it aloud.

Her attention was drawn even further as Declan leaned forward, his next question landing with deliberate weight.

“As Cassie Jones accused in Dan Murphy’s broadcast at Crawford’s FM yesterday,” Declan glanced down at a note in his hand, the movement unhurried, “there are claims that the council’s housing allocations lack transparency. Specifically, that contracts were awarded to developers with personal ties to sitting council members. What’s your response?”

Cassie blinked, her body instinctively leaning a fraction closer to the screen, as though the words might hit differently if she were nearer. Hearing her name roll off his tongue in that voice—the cadence carefully deliberate, each word with the precision of a blade—was something she hadn’t prepared for.

It wasn’t just that he repeated her accusations; it was the way he positioned them as essential to the conversation, stripping away any lingering doubts about their importance.

But then there was the other thing— the truth of it all . What truly shook her in her seat.

She hadn’t been the one to say those words during Dan’s broadcast.

The story, the study, the facts—they were hers, yes . Yet Dan had been the one to voice them, stealing her moment before she arrived at the station to reclaim it. By the time she had taken control of the broadcast, the opportunity to lay out her findings in full had slipped through her fingers. All she could do then was pivot, focus on the other truth she’d uncovered.

And now? Declan O’Hara, of all people, was giving her story back to her.

Bas’s head whipped toward her, his expression part shock, part amusement.

“He’s quoting you ?”

“Looks like it,” Cassie muttered, her voice faint as her gaze remained fixed on the screen. Her chest felt a lot heavier, a strange warmth stirring in the pit of her stomach, though she tried to brush it off.

On screen, the council member’s practiced composure faltered before he recovered.

“I’m not aware of any evidence to support those claims,” he said, his tone clipped, “And I think it’s reckless to give air to accusations of a—”

“It’s not about recklessness,” Declan interrupted him, as calm as he was since the beginning of the show, “It’s about accountability. Jones provided specifics—figures, dates, patterns. If they’re inaccurate, wouldn’t it benefit the council to set the record straight?”

Cassie bit her lip, fighting back the urge to grin. For the first time in weeks, it felt like her work wasn’t just hers—just something she could keep on her shelf. No, it was out there , undeniable .

Different from Dan and Crawford, Declan O’Hara wasn’t stealing it. He was amplifying it.

Declan gave my story back to me , Cassie repeated again, as to remind herself that this day wasn’t a dream.

Bas snorted, “Looks like someone’s got a fan.”

“Shut up, Bas,” Cassie muttered, her voice threatening but there was no bite. Still, she could feel the heat creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks, a flush she didn’t dare acknowledge.

Did Bas mean that she was Declan’s fan or Declan who was her fan. Either way, both made her blush even more.

She folded her arms tighter across her chest, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

The council member stumbled over his response, scrambling to reframe the narrative, but Declan was relentless, pressing for specifics with a calm determination that left no room for evasion. When the segment ended, Declan delivered a closing remark that felt both pointed and perfectly impartial, a masterful capstone to the exchange.

The screen transitioned to a softer feature—a local artist creating murals across the city. The shift in tone was smooth, offering viewers a reprieve from the tension.

Cassie exhaled, her eyes fixed on the screen after a beat.

“He’s good,” she said quietly, almost to herself.

Good as a presenter or a good person? Her mind asked her and, well , Cassie didn’t have an answer for that.

Bas chuckled, “That sounded dangerously close to actual praise.”

“Don’t push it,” Cassie warned, though the curve of her lips betrayed her amusement.

The bar’s energy had shifted as the night deepened.

Voices softened into murmurs, glasses clinked with lazy rhythm, and the warm glow of the overhead fixtures seemed to dim ever so vaguely, making the room feel closer, cozier. Cassie and Bas were still at their corner, both a little slouched, their earlier sharpness dulled by the hour and the lingering warmth of their drinks.

From an outsider's perspective, they might have appeared as companions deep into their cups, the way Bas’s posture had relaxed, one arm draped lazily over the back of his chair, his grin loose and easy. Cassie, by contrast, seemed more guarded, though the light flush across her cheeks and the way she covered her mouth mid-laugh betrayed a rare moment of vulnerability.

A laughing fit took over Cassie as Bas told her a story about a patron mistaking a bottle of soy sauce for whiskey last week. She was shaking her head, trying to compose herself, her cheeks flushed from laughter and the residual embarrassment of the earlier show.

Bas placed a hand dramatically on his chest, “I swear on King’s Ransom,” his grin wide and unapologetic.

Cassie shook her head, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress the tug of a smile.

“Right, because your horse makes you credible.”

“Don’t disrespect King’s Ransom,” Bas shot back with mock indignation, “He’s got more class than you’ll ever have.”

Cassie leaned forward, her elbow propped on the table as she took a sip of her drink. The ice clinked softly against the glass, and she watched Bas with a bemused expression, her free hand lightly tracing a circle on the tabletop.

“You know,” she said, setting the glass down, “you’d make a terrible lawyer. Your evidence is a horse , and your defense strategy is sarcasm .”

Bas grinned, leaning back in his chair as though settling into the role of a court jester.

“A lawyer? Please . Too much paperwork. I’d rather keep slinging drinks, making people laugh and playing polo.”

“Ah, here we go to the noble profession of bartending again ,” Cassie teased, raising her glass slightly in a mock toast, “Defender of soy sauce incidents and peddler of questionable anecdotes.”

“Questionable?” Bas raised an eyebrow, his hand dramatically clutching his chest again, “That story was the highlight of my week.”

“Well,” Cassie replied, her lips twitching as though fighting a laugh, “your weeks must be very uneventful .”

Bas opened his mouth to retort, but his attention shifted mid-thought. His expression stilled for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before his grin returned—sharper now, edged with mischief. He sat up a little straighter, his eyes drifting past her shoulder.

“Uh-oh,” he murmured, amused.

Cassie frowned, following his gaze halfway before stopping herself. The bar was quieter now, the conversation muted, the warm light softening the lines of every figure in the room.

She turned back to Bas, raising an eyebrow in question.

“What?” she asked, her tone half-curious, half- suspicious .

Because everything that made Bas grin was suspicious.

Yet, he didn’t answer immediately, his smirk widening as though he were savoring the moment before delivering a punchline.

“Oh,” a voice behind her said, smooth and far too familiar, “I thought Rupert would be here already.”

Cassie froze, every thought in her head stalling at once. Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass, the earlier warmth of laughter fleeing in the face of a sudden, overpowering heat that had nothing to do with the bar’s cozy atmosphere.

Her pulse kicked up, erratic and insistent. She didn’t need to turn to recognize the voice. That deliberate cadence, the trace of an accent—it was as unmistakable as it was infuriating.

Declan O’Hara.

Bas, unbothered and clearly enjoying himself, leaned back further in his chair.

“Rupert’s at Mrs. Spencer’s gala,” Bas replied easily, his tone almost conversational, “Something about giving someone a ride.”

“Hm,” Declan mused, the sound more thoughtful than dismissive, “Taggie’s doing their buffet, isn’t she?”

Bas hummed in confirmation, the sound low and knowing. His smirk teetered on the edge of outright glee, and Cassie could feel it radiating off him like heat.

Cassie still couldn’t bring herself to turn around. Her earlier humor had vanished, replaced by an overwhelming awareness of Declan’s proximity. She could almost feel his breath against her neck, irrational as it was—however, she was sitting and he was standing .

Images flashed in her mind—his piercing gaze earlier that day, his voice echoing through her living room as he made a case for Venturer, and the way her name had rolled off his tongue during his broadcast.

In the end, what did he want with her? Truly? He had already done so much tonight—repeating her accusations, giving her the credit Dan Murphy had stolen, framing her work in a way that no one could ignore. And now, here he was, unbidden and unexpected.

A sharp thought pierced through her tangled emotions: All of this... Was it just to get her attention? For her to finally accept his offer?

If yes, then...

She swallowed hard, trying to force the thought away, but it was already there, fully formed and impossible to ignore:

Bloody hell, he was good.

Her thoughts spiraled, and though she wanted to blame it on the warmth of the room or the residual adrenaline from the broadcast, she knew better. Declan O’Hara didn’t just walk into places—he arrived , every movement perfectly calculated, every word perfectly placed.

And then, the moment she’d dreaded :

“Hi, Cassie,” Declan said, his voice taking on a lighter tone, “I imagine you saw my show tonight?”

The words were delivered almost as a challenge. And, unfortunately , for some reason, her brain was built to never ignore a challenge—so, Cassie, despite every instinct screaming at her to remain frozen, finally turned.

Her movement was hesitant, as if her body was testing each muscle before committing fully to the action. She didn’t know what she expected to see—something intimidating, perhaps, or something too familiar to handle—but the reality was worse.

Declan stood there, relaxed in a way that was almost infuriating, his suit still immaculate from the broadcast, the crisp white shirt open just enough at the collar to suggest he’d taken the edge off a long day but hadn’t fully unwound. The muted lighting of the bar softened the sharpness of his features, but his presence remained undiminished.

His dark eyes found hers immediately, the corner of his mouth lifting in a wide smile. It wasn’t a smirk, not exactly—it lacked the arrogance she might have expected—but there was something inherently self-assured about it. Like he knew exactly what effect he had on her.

The kind of effect that made her unable to look away when he looked at her.

Her lungs burned from the effort of keeping her composure, but Declan didn’t press. He simply smiled, the gesture disarming in its simplicity, and waited .

[5starl1ght]

The missing piece

Lando Norris x reader

➪ you've got everything but maybe not everything until you meet Lando

Warnings:nothing

Mesterlist

You have it all: a fulfilling career that you love and excel at, a supportive circle of friends who are always there for you and make you laugh, a wonderful family who loves you unconditionally and is proud of your achievements. You're living your best life, and you know it. You're grateful for everything you have, and you don't take anything for granted. You're happy, and you show it.

But sometimes, late at night, when you're lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, you can't help but feel that something is missing. A spark, a thrill, a challenge. Something that makes your heart race and your palms sweat. Something that makes you feel alive.

You've tried to fill that void with different things: hobbies, travels, books, movies, music. But nothing seems to satisfy you. You feel restless, bored, unfulfilled. You crave something more, something different, something exciting.

And then you meet him.

Lando Norris, the Formula One driver who has taken the world by storm with his charisma, talent and charm. He's everything you've ever dreamed of: handsome, funny, smart, adventurous. He has a smile that melts your heart, eyes that pierce your soul, and a voice that sends shivers down your spine. He's also completely out of your league. But he doesn't seem to care. He's drawn to you like a magnet, and he makes you feel things you've never felt before.

He's the solution to it all. He's the missing piece of your puzzle. He's the one who can make you happy.

But can you handle the pressure of being with him? Can you cope with the fame, the media, the fans, the rivals? Can you trust him to stay faithful and loyal? Can you keep up with his fast-paced lifestyle?

You're about to find out.

You meet him at a charity event that your company sponsors. He's there as a guest of honor, and he gives a speech that inspires everyone in the room. You're impressed by his eloquence and his passion. You clap along with the rest of the audience, but you don't expect him to notice you.

But he does.

He walks up to you after his speech, and he introduces himself. He shakes your hand, and he looks into your eyes. He compliments you on your dress, and he asks you what you do for a living. He listens attentively as you tell him about your job, and he nods in appreciation. He tells you that he admires your work ethic and your ambition. He asks you if you like racing, and he invites you to join him at his next race.

You're stunned by his offer, but you don't hesitate to accept it. You exchange phone numbers, and he promises to call you soon. He kisses your cheek, and he leaves with a wink.

You're left speechless, breathless, mesmerized.

You can't believe what just happened. You just met Lando Norris, and he asked you out.

You pinch yourself to make sure it's real.

It is.

You smile like an idiot, and you feel butterflies in your stomach.

You can't wait to see him again.

You see him again two weeks later at his race in Monaco. He flies you there in his private jet, and he treats you like a princess. He shows you around the city, and he takes you to the best restaurants. He buys you flowers, chocolates, jewelry. He makes you laugh with his jokes, his stories, his impressions. He makes you feel special with his compliments, his attention, his affection.

He makes love to you in his hotel room overlooking the sea.

He makes love to you like no one else ever has.

He makes love to you like he means it.

He tells you that he loves you.

He tells you that he loves you more than anything in the world.

He tells you that he loves you more than racing.

You believe him.

You tell him that you love him too.

You tell him that you love him more than anything in the world.

You tell him that you love him more than your career.

You mean it.

You're happy.

You're happy like never before.

[ven0ms]

☾ ₊ ⊹  •  trying to fulfill the inescapable feeling of emptiness within , the unmistakable melody of a piano playing softly in the distance , a pile of books with the corners folded over , the shift in temperature right before the storm , the choice between contentment and endless ambition , the brightness of a just - polished crystal chandelier .

*   biography   ,   pinterest   ,   spotify   .

full name , santos miguel - jakov ochoa . nickname(s) , n/a . name meaning , the saint . age , thirty . date of birth , august 7th . place of birth , new york city , new york . ethnicity , mexican , white . gender , cis man . pronouns , he / his . sexual orientation , bisexual . religion , catholic . occupation , casino heir , indulging in non - profits . education level , masters in business . label(s) , the humanist , the halcyon , the golden retriever , the magnet , the dynamo . positive traits , allocentric , staunch , adaptable . negative traits , recalcitrant , fractious , reticent .    

faceclaim , taylor zakhar perez . career / voice claim , n/a . hair color , dark brown . hair style , short messy curls . eye color , brown . height , 6'1" . build , athletic , muscular . tattoos , n/a . piercings , n/a . clothing style , jeans , t - shirt , beat up sneakers . distinguishing characteristics , always the upturn of a smile , long dark eyelashes , boisterous laugh . signature scent , tom ford oud wood , notes that overwhelm the senses with dark , earthy sensuality , exotic rosewood and cardamom give way to a smoky blend of precious oud notes , sandalwood and vetiver , tonka bean and amber add warmth .    

diagnosed disorders , insomnia . physical disorders , n/a . allergies , n/a . sleeping habits , irregular , often passes out at odd hours , in odd places ( friends couch , party , etc ) . eating habits , often forgets to eat regularly due to constantly working , but will eat large portions to make up for it . sociability , enjoys being around people , an extreme extrovert , will never get tired of talking . addictions , finding the next charity to sponsor , 20oz sugar free energy drinks , interacting with people on twitter . alcohol use , mostly social , the majority of the days of the week . drug use , regularly , to keep functioning at such a high rate , and to wind down , will deny if asked . cigarette use , n/a .    

likes , the ache that blooms in well - worn muscles , a grounding reminder that strength is earned through effort , that every lift and stretch sculpts resilience into sinew / the quiet reverence in small gestures of kindness , as if each offering is a note in a symphony of unseen compassion , anchoring the spirit in a world that often forgets to be gentle / the intimate scent of old pages , each creased line and frayed corner a portal to unspoken truths and voices long stilled , an escape from noise yet also a place of reflection , wisdom hidden within yellowed paper and ink - stained whispers . dislikes , the thin veneer of shallow exchanges , where pleasantries hang like gauze over a festering hollowness , the heart recoiling from connections lacking warmth , as though sincerity were a foreign tongue / the silent pressure of expectations , an unseen weight that presses upon the shoulders , urging a choice between self - truth and the mirrored gaze of others , a tension that knots beneath the skin / the abrasive hum of overcrowded spaces , where minds and voices overlap in discord , drowning out the gentle solitude craved yet often denied .    

fears , the vulnerable sting of openness , the way honesty feels like standing on a precipice , arms outstretched with nothing to shield against the winds of judgment / the haunting specter of family , of anchoring oneself to others in a dance of love and risk , where past scars lie in wait to imprint themselves on the next generation / the terror of inertia , a soul dulled by the relentless ticking of time without progress , a nightmare where the fire to grow and evolve slowly wanes , leaving only shadows where brightness once burned . habits , driven by an insatiable urge to keep moving , a mind filled with lists and goals that run like clockwork , so much so that basic needs — food , rest — are lost in the relentless pursuit of “ better ” / rituals of physical discipline , the rhythmic strain of exercise like a heartbeat that steadies , the body’s silent communion with strength and control amidst chaos / a private collection of passages and phrases , lines of prose that speak back to a hidden yearning , small anchors of meaning in a world where grounding is often as fleeting as breath .    

mother , marija antonela ochoa , neé hazdic ( 50 ) . father , miguel tomás ochoa ( 52 ) . sibling(s) , alejandra ( twenty - seven ) , antonia ( twenty - four ) . significant other(s) , has not been in a long - term relationship . children , n/a . pets , n/a . primary vice , lust . primary virtue , modesty . weather , light breeze of coastal waters , half cloudy sky to shield the sun's full power . color , reddish - brown . music , anything that sounds good . movie , the departed . book , the once and future king . sport , football . beverage , americano . food , anything homemade . animal , bearded dragon . season , middle of summer , when the crickets make up the nightly soundscape .

[yournightowl]

Your NightOwl #051

There's a lot of schoolwork tied up back here in the oldnet Unfinished book reports like tablets buried in the sand. Horrible group project experiences like sunken wrecks scattered over the seafloor. Lots of files transferred at 11:59pm. :(´ཀ`」 ∠):

i expected there to be a big difference between the public and private schools, but maybe that's my bias talking- Since public schools haven't been a thing since before i was born. ヽ(￣～￣　)ノ

Obviously there's still that gap between the have's and the have-not's; the technical schools and the magnet programs and the fast-tracks to nepo-industries (mostly politics) are still pretty far flung from the corporate-sponsored k-12s designed just to funnel people into lower-management positions. And government still has its hand in education, removed by a few degrees- assigning tax breaks and arranging contracts and occasionally rubber-stamping designed-by-corporate-committe curriculums;

But the way my parents and their social stratum neighbors talked about it, you'd think the public schools were basically zoos- Or cancerously overgrown daycare programs.

Turns out, school is school, regardless of what ingignia's stamped on the entrance. (¯▿¯) Parents fight with teachers over grades. __〆(￣ー￣ ) Students do their homework at the last possible second. Tests are given, pop quizzes groaned over, and teenagers are mean to each other. (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ

i am surprised, however, by how quickly virtual schooling gained traction. Naively or romantically or whatever- a part of me figured there were always impassioned students arguing for the importance of having their own physical space for learning, for socializing, for growth. But i see other teenagers everyday at my school, ٩(๑･ิᴗ･ิ)۶٩(･ิᴗ･ิ๑)۶ so i should've realized by now- The one thing they aren't is impassioned about attendance. (¬_¬ )

Lots of low-grade alpha-indigos woke up whenever i started rummaging through school websites. Lots of earnest, almost pleading offers to write essays for me that were due decades ago.(っ´ω`)ﾉ(╥ω╥) i felt pretty gross, disturbing their sleep, seeing them get so agitated. idk if it was the right thing to do or not, but i gave them some poetry assignments i rooted out from a literature professor's nearly-dead personal drive.

i hope they felt fulfilled for the few seconds it took them to mish-mash together some generated poetry. From what i saw, they did get it all to rhyme (；⌣̀_⌣́)

But i didn't feel anything myself (￣ ￣|||)

monitoring the empty halls, your nightowl

[estrellamorningstar]

Bond [Part 11]

Warning: Smut, NSFW, 18+

Summary: Celeste and Carlos do some more getting to know each other.

Word Count: 3193

          Celeste waits at the campfire, watching the gate impatiently. The fire is comforting, but it also prevents her from dismissing Wesker's last words from her mind. She has a nervous energy surrounding her, so many feelings and doubts are engulfing her whole being. She has been waiting for Carlos to come out of the Main Building for at least an hour. Celeste feels tired and has been fighting sleep since she sat down.  

          She doesn't quite know how to face Carlos. Guilt has entangled her heart and isn't giving her a moment of peace. She went into the Trial with one goal in her mind - to improve. The sunrise came with so many complications. 

          The reason why Wesker wants to train her isn't entirely clear to her and she already agreed to it, even though she can't figure out how it would work. Will she meet Wesker out of the simulation? That thought wakes up some butterflies somewhere under all the other emotions. How is she going to tell Carlos that she made a deal with his biggest enemy? Guilt gets the upper hand. Wesker did say that they will see each other soon, but how soon is soon? The butterflies manage to find their way back to her stomach. What if Carlos already knows?(Guilt) What if the whole camp knows?(Guilt) It's not like what Carlos and she has is anything more than fooling around. The guilt squashes every single butterfly. 

          What is she doing? A breath-takingly sexy man is worshipping her; he's considerate, understanding and... the definition of masculinity. Carlos has been looking out for her, protecting her and teaching her how to survive, the knight in a shining armor. Five minutes with the Devil himself and here she is, bartering in her own head? All because of a wink that probably wasn't even there, all because he is ice cold towards her, but the force that surrounds him is a complete darkness that is just so magnetic that Celeste knows that if she takes one wrong step, she won't be able to resist whatever's coming. Having said yes to being trained by him already is a step towards that darkness. And it... excites her. 

          Celeste hears the gate open and close and she snaps out of her solo debates, her heart beats nervously as she walks towards Carlos. Despite all her doubts, seeing him alive and well washes her over with relief, and when they reach each other she gets lost in his eyes, they're as intense as ever. 

     ''You're coming with me,'' Carlos says in a serious voice.  He grabs Celeste's hand and starts walking, he's taking big steps and Celeste almost flies behind him trying to keep up. He knows. They're heading towards a house Celeste has never been inside. She is worried, watching the back of his head, trying to read his mood. Whatever he wants to say is going to be hard to hear, Celeste has never been one to win arguments or explain her point of view to defend her actions. 

          The house they walk into is similar to the house Celeste lives, she doesn't have much time to look around though, Carlos drags her through a hallway and into what she assumes is his room. The room is almost twice as big as hers and she notices two big bookshelves filled to the rim with books. Carlos closes the door behind her and she quietly watches him, trying to read him. He removes his vest and throws it on a nearby chair. He steps close to her and Celeste can finally tell what's on his mind. She's in trouble. 

     ''We're not leaving this room until I have made you cum at least three times,'' Celeste's legs go weak and the only thing that saves her from collapsing is Carlos's firm grip of her ass, which reminds her that she's still wearing the black silk dress that her sponsor had given her. Their tongues are entangled and Celeste almost loses her balance once more when Carlos walks her backwards, until Celeste really does lose balance and falls into his bed.

          Carlos kneels in front of her on the floor and places one of her booted feet against his abs. Celeste can't quite decide what is making her whole body burn with desire more right now - the way that he's looking at her or the anticipation of what's coming. He removes both boots quicker than it took her to put them on. They're thrown to the side and then to Celeste's delight Carlos stands up and removes his t-shirt in one move. She can't help but bite her lip because that's the only thing keeping her from demanding him to have his way with her right here, right now.

          Celeste has never been turned on by muscle, but what's driving her crazy right now is a combination of so many visually pleasing details it's hard to pin point what isn't perfect about the man she's looking at right now. She can't help herself but take in every part of Carlos's body, his firm chest is covered in hair, her eyes move down, a thin trail of hair finding its way through perfect abs then thickening again just past his belly button and disappearing somewhere in his trousers. She hungrily looks at his zipper, wishing she had an ability to open it with her mind. 

          Celeste sits up on the edge of the bed and slides her hands over Carlos's torso trying to explore as much of it as she can with her touch, solidifying her fantasy and making it real. Carlos watches her hands reach his belt. Celeste looks up at him and moves her fingers to the belt buckle. Once the belt is undone she presses her lips against his hip bone, sliding a teasing tongue across his skin, she hears Carlos's breathing deepening, the sound of a moan stuck somewhere in his throat is making her eager to hear what other sounds she can get out of him. 

          The zipper is down and her lips are now following the v-line that disappears out of sight, she tugs at the hem of the trousers that are keeping her from what she's desired for too long.  However, Carlos has other things on his mind; just as Celeste is about to hike his trousers down, he tilts her chin up to make her face him. He bends down and pauses as he examines her expression before kissing her softly. 

     ''We will get to that, Cielo, let me just taste you one more time,'' he kneels in front of her with their lips locked tightly together. Her hands are running through his hair while his hands find the thin string of her thong. Their kiss grows more passionate in anticipation, Celeste pulls Carlos's head towards her, and after her underwear hits the floor she feels his hands part her knees, causing Celeste to hold her breath. 

          Carlos slides his hands up her thighs and squeezes her ass. He shuffles her into him and their already intense kiss makes Celeste feel dizzy with impatience. Feeling Carlos's hands on her inner thighs causes her to fist his hair and as anticipation builds in her lower belly their kiss becomes deeper. His hand disappears under her dress and moments later she feels two firm fingers pressing against her, gathering all her wetness. 

          Her whole body responds to his touch compulsively, her hips thrusting forward to meet his hand. Celeste's eagerness fires up Carlos. A sudden moan escapes Celeste when she feels his fingers slip inside her, catching her off guard. Carlos grins against her lips and uses her surprise to push Celeste on her back. He lies down on his side next to her, and continues what he started. He watches her face in silence, watching her reactions to his fingers sliding in and out of her, putting tension on different spots. Her moans are growing deeper and more defined the more he keeps going. 

          Carlos kisses her neck and his stubble against her skin creates even more ripples of pleasure that soon turn to goosebumps. Carlos's lips find Celeste's and he knowingly pulls her head to him. He muffles her moans with the most lustful kiss just as he runs a firm thumb over her clit. She had been aching for some relief and now she's insatiable, she pushes herself into his hand, allowing his mouth to drown out her whimpers. 

          Carlos watches Celeste's body writhing at his touch, increasing the speed and pressure of his fingers, pinpointing the one spot that makes her lose control of her body completely. She's fisting the sheets in her hands because she has nothing else to hold on to. Her breathing has become shallow, her moaning is responding to the smallest change in Carlos's movement. Celeste closes her eyes, enjoying every moment, but impatient for what's coming. If his hand can drive her to the edge this easily, the thought of his cock sends a new kind of shockwave of anticipation through her body. 

          Celeste's quick, breathy moans fill the room, her body tenses up before the big release and she's ready to let go when a loud knock snaps her back to reality, Carlos lets out an annoyed grunt. She opens her eyes when she feels Carlos's hand leave her pussy. She feels like she's ran a marathon, her heartbeat is obvious on her flushed skin. Another knock on the door makes her rearrange the dress so she isn't exposed to the world. 

     ''Don't move, Cielo, I'm not finished yet,'' Carlos gets up from the bed and puts his shirt back on as he walks over to the door, he opens it enough to peek at his visitor. Celeste covers her face with a pillow she finds and tries to still her breathing, wondering why all good things must have to come to an end this quickly. Carlos is talking softly with somebody that is hidden by the door.

     ''I'm busy right now, Rebecca, we will talk later,'' Celeste overhears him, suddenly conscious of how loud her moaning must have been. She wants to hide under the covers, but before she can act on that thought Carlos has finished his conversation with Rebecca and the look of unadulterated lust in his eyes causes her to hold her breath. Carlos removes his shirt once more and this time he kicks his boots off as well. Celeste sits up in the bed and suggestively looks at his trousers. 

     ''I know you don't remember what you were begging me for that night,'' Carlos drops his trousers to the floor, Celeste's eyes brazenly snap to his boxers, the obvious outline of his cock is the most wonderful and the most torturous sight to behold. ''But I am happy to remind you.'' 

          She sucks in air through her teeth and subtly bites her lip, determined to get her hands on him sooner rather than later. ''That dress has got to come off, Cielo,''  he leans over and kisses her with so much passion that they spend a few minutes making out,  tasting each other and slowly finding their way back into the bed. 

          Celeste is impatient, but she has never been the one to just get what she wants, she only takes what's offered to her, so when Carlos rolls them over she takes that opportunity to relieve some of the built up tension by grinding herself against him. A sharp breath from Carlos joins her soft moan when she realizes just how worked up he is. Her eyes  are locked on Carlos as she gently rocks herself on his lap. Celeste's trying to stay in control of herself - watching his eyes she knows that Carlos is close to losing his. For now he allows her to enjoy herself. 

           Carlos runs his hands over Celeste's breasts then down to her hips. His eyes lock on Celeste's as he begins to control their rhythm, he manages to find a way to move against Celeste in such a way that she feels like he knows her body more than she does. She is losing herself once more, her moans growing louder and more frequent. 

     ''Get ready, Cielo,'' Carlos lifts her hips slightly and shuffles himself under her, Celeste  suddenly feels his tongue finding the spot that makes her lose any ability to think. She has to bite back a moan and find something to hold onto before she loses her balance. She arches her back and holds onto Carlos's legs. He is still holding her hips and pulls her down towards his tongue all the while sending Celeste closer to the edge. 

          Carlos is amazing at reading her body and when waves of shivers run through her body he attacks her clit with everything he has, causing her to shake uncontrollably and succumb to his masterful touch. In that moment in time she forgets that she might be keeping others awake, but Carlos is not giving her a chance to be quiet, her loud moans fill the room. 

          She is still shaking and breathing heavily when she collapses on the bed next to him, her legs have gone numb and she is incapable of saying anything. Carlos lies down next to her, watching his work with a certain pride in his eyes. 

     ''That was one of the things you were begging for, Cielo.'' He allows Celeste to catch her breath while sliding his tongue gently across her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Celeste feels like she has no strength left in her body and all she can do is watch Carlos flick his tongue over her nipple. He is gentle at first, but his thirst for her body seems to be insatiable. He pushes her breasts together and plays music with her moans once more.  

          Celeste can't believe just how ravenous she is for him. She runs her hands through his hair and makes him look up at her. She slowly sits up and tastes herself on Carlos's lips. 

     ''What else did I beg for?'' she asks teasingly against his lips, a groan escapes Carlos. Seems like he was waiting for that question. He stands up and goes over to the pile of clothes. Celeste watches him curiously, quietly admiring his body, wishing those damned boxers had come off already. He returns with a belt in his hands. Celeste watches curiously. What had she asked for?  

     Carlos returns to the bed, the kiss they share is filled with more promise of pleasure and Celeste finds herself on her back once more, but this time her hands are above her head. She feels the leather tighten around her wrists and her hands are bound to the bed frame. Celeste vaguely remembers what exactly she had asked for, or maybe it had been one of her fantasies? The leather against her skin makes her think of Wesker.

     ''Your exact words were,'' Carlos stands up and finally those boxers come off, ''''tie me to the bed and fuck me until I scream your name''.'' For a moment she just looks at his body and quietly thanks God for giving her the ability to see. She also wonders what she did in her past life to deserve this, but before she has time to think too much about it, Carlos has returned to bed and she is grateful to her drugged up self for putting this thought in his head. 

          *************************************************

          They spent the whole day in bed or in the shower, their appetites for each other insatiable. They are so lost in their lust that neither of them notice the time. A loud knock and Ada's voice at the door disrupts another round of passionate love making. They're both a sweaty, entangled mess.

     ''The sun is about to set, you animals,'' Ada shouts through the door and knocks one more time, they can hear her walking off and look at each other, Carlos finds it amusing, but Celeste is mortified. Of course, the whole camp will know.

          Celeste cleans herself up at the sink as well as she can before getting dressed quickly. She takes a look in the mirror and straightens out the dress, her hair is a total mess, all entangled and wild looking, the complete opposite of the delicate material of the dress. A night off would be perfect right now, she needs a shower and to get into something more comfortable. She also realizes just how tired she is, it has been a long day. 

          Carlos cups her head in his hands and kisses her passionately, promising so many things with that one kiss. He opens the door and Celeste tries to remember how to get out of the building. They walk into the kitchen area and, to Celeste's disappointment, are met with a bunch of people sitting around and chatting. 

          As they walk in, Ada winks at Carlos with a knowing smile. Jill storms off with the door slamming behind her and Celeste shoots a questioning look at Carlos, she wonders if the just friends part was mutual between him and Jill.

     ''We're just gonna... go,'' Carlos notices how awkward Celeste is feeling as she stands there hugging her arms not quite knowing what to do with them. He guides her through the door and the fresh air is a welcoming feeling for her flushed cheeks.

     ''I didn't think they will all be there, Cielo, sorry,'' Carlos speaks softly to her as if he's worried that he will startle her. 

     ''It wasn't going to be a secret for long,'' she responds with an awkward smile. ''I'm just not used to being in the middle of something.'' 

     ''Jill's just overprotective of me,'' Celeste is almost annoyed at how good he is at reading her. ''She is everybody's big sister in our house, you know?'' Celeste stops and looks at him, wondering how can he be so aware of her feelings, but totally misread Jill's behavior. She smiles at him and gives him one last kiss before arriving at the camp, Jill is the least of her worries right now. 

          She finds Kate who runs her eyes up and down her and notices Carlos walk the opposite direction. She laughs and shakes her head. Celeste notices many eyes on her and sits down next to Kate, hoping that the names will be picked soon.

     ''Good day to be Celeste, huh?'' Kate laughs and gives her a half hug. Celeste motions to Bill for a beer and downs the whole bottle in one go, she has never tasted a beer as refreshing and as needed. 

          The Survivors are picked and to Celeste's relief she gets to have her rest. Carlos wasn't as lucky. He winks at her from across the fire and walks through the main gate with the other three Survivors. Celeste is about to tell Kate that she will go and take a shower, but she sees Kate's face change expression as she's looking at the screen, her face lit up by the bright light. 

Celeste Stellato in bright letters appear on the screen. 

[titpoak]

TITPOAK - Episode Four: Book V. Movie Bella

Episode four is all about Book and Movie Bella! We compare and contrast and def get off task. What do you expect from two feral rats!

I apologize this is getting out so late, I had school and mental illness, y'all know how it is haha. Hopefully, I can be more consistent because I truly love my podcast.

TITPOAK - Listen now!

Our Links

Laura - @kwop-kilawtley

Liv's Twilight Blog - @personalheroin

Patreon

Listen to us! - Link to our podcast

Remy Shoulder Magnet - Link (NOT SPONSORED)

[thedomestickitchen]

This is "adult" French toast. Mainly because there is a tad bit of dark rum in the "syrup". Pineapple and coconut need rum, though.... right? This French toast that has been bathed in coconut milk and pineapple juice and then slathered with a sweet rum & agave glaze......This is my final recipe for #brunchweek, as well. Which means next week I'll have dinner vittles. Because you may be "brunched" out by now. Me personally... I am thinking about BBQs and ice cold watermelon. I'm getting into summer mode. This French toast eases right in to summertime. It's the kind of breakfast you'd eat on vacation in the Keys, or, even better, Hawaii. It's the kind of breakfast you'd have in flip flops, and it's aroma would blend right into the fresh suntan lotion you just slathered on.   So... go ahead, pretend you're on vacation at brunch. NOTE: Giveaway has now ended We are so grateful to have such amazing sponsors for Brunch Week who have given us a fabulous bunch of incredible (INCREDIBLE!) prizes for our giveaway. Prize #1: From California Walnuts one lucky winner will receive: A KitchenAid Artisan 5-Quart Stand Mixer model number: KSM150PSGA. Mixer comes with: 2-piece pouring shield, 5-quart stainless steel bowl, flat beater, dough hook, and wire whip. A Walnut Prize Pack containing 1lb burlap bag of fresh California Walnuts, 1 portion control tin, 1 heart shaped cookie cutter, 1 flexible cutting mat, 1 mini spatula, 1 chip clip and 1 water pouch. . Prize #2: (but with lots of winners) From Lodge Cast Iron one lucky winner will receive: One lucky winner from the rafflecopter below will receive a Lodge Cast Iron Skillet, three silicone pieces (a hot handle holder, a pot holder and a trivet). In addition, one lucky participant from our TweetChat on Sunday May 5th from 2-3pm Eastern will also win a Lodge Cast Iron Skillet and the three silicone pieces. PLUS five lucky participants will get a set of the three silicone pieces. (Search for hashtag #BrunchWeek to follow along. Use the hashtag in tweets during the chat to enter to win). AND, everyone who comments in our PinChatLive on Saturday May 11th between 2-3pm Eastern will also be entered to win one prize of a Lodge Cast Iron Skillet and a set of three silicone pieces and 4 prizes that contain three silicone pieces each. (For the PinChatLive go to The BrunchWeek Pinterest Board at 2pm on May 11th and comment on the questions pins there. Refresh your screen often so you don't miss any new questions). Prize #3: From Flavors of Summer one lucky winner will receive: A Flavors of Summer Entertaining Package including (get this!) a $100 gift card to Sur la Table! In addition to the amazing gift card, this entertaining package includes a variety of goodies including cookbooks, kitchen utensils, entertaining partyware like a chip and dip server, beverage container and more. From free products, to fun stuff for decorating - you'll be able to make the most of your next summer party. Prize #4: From Black Gold Farms one lucky winner will receive: A Martha Stewart Collection Kitchen Prize Package including a 3 quart Enameled Cast Iron Casserole, Magnetic Spice Grinders, a Pot Clip, Cheese Grater and a Silicone Head Spatula. Prize #5: From the Food and Wine Conference and #SundaySupper: The Food and Wine Conference is being held in Orlando, Florida from July 19-21st at the unbelievably beautiful Rosen Shingle Creek. Speakers include Sara Moulton (of Food Network fame), Michael Green (a true celebrity in the wine and spirits world) and Jaden Hair (cookbook author and creator of Steamy Kitchen). This prize is for a single Full Conference Pass with a value of $250. (Accommodations can be booked at the Rosen Shingle Creek at a highly discounted rate for all conference attendees). Prize #6: From Bob's Red Mill one lucky winner will receive: A Bob's Red Mill Kitchen Prize Pack: A beautifully emblazoned Bob's Red Mill canvas tote bag containing the Bob’s Red Mill Cookbook, assorted Bob’s Red Mill products, a Salter® Baker’s Dream Aquatronic Baking Scale, Norpro® Silicone Heat Resistant Spatula, Best® Standard French Whip and a $40 Bob’s Red Mill Gift Card. Prize #7: From Whole Foods Orlando one lucky winner will receive: The Whole Foods Orlando Breakfast In Bed Basket: Mixing Bowl, Allegro Organic Breakfast Blend Coffee, Allegro Coffee Mug, Cooking Whisk, Microplane, Delamotte Champagne, 365 Organic Amber Maple Syrup, Whole Pantry Cinnamon Sticks, French Brioche and a $25 Whole Foods Market Gift Card Prize #8: From Whole Foods Orlando one lucky winner will receive: Whole Foods Flavorful Delights Basket: Full of fun items and ingredients to play with in the kitchen: 5 qt Colander,, Servino Homemade Pastas, 365 Organic Balsamic Vinegar, Macadamia Oil, Marmigiano Regiano, Key Lime Savory Oil, Branfords Original Hot Sauce, Cheese Grater, Vosges Black Pearl Bar Chocolate, Vosges Fire Bar Chocolate, R.C. Buck’s Gourmet Rub – Sweet Orange Habanero, Divina Pickles – Sweet Watermelon Rind, Composta Di Fragole – Strawberry Compote with Modena Balsamic Vinegar, Sabatino Tartufi – Truffle and Honey Prize #9: From Stonyfield Organic one lucky winner will receive:   A Stonyfield Kitchen Prize Pack: A Prize Pack full of yogurt fun From Stonyfield Organic Yogurt is just ONE of the amazing prizes in our #BrunchWeek 2013 giveaway.Preserve Colander, Preserve portable yogurt carrier, Preserve cutting board, Stonyfield cookbook, Stonyfield oven mitt, Travel sandwhich carrier made out of 100% reused plastic bottles, Stonyfield water bottle, Stonyfield tote bag, 10 free cups of Stonyfield Greek. a Rafflecopter giveaway Brunch Drink Recipes Frozen Grasshopper by Amanda’s Apron Gin and Sparkling Red Wine Cocktail by Take A Bite Out Of Boca Chocolate Trifle {kid friendly} by Real Housemoms Vanilla Pomegranate Mojito by Noshing With The Nolands Cherry Sangria by Cooking In Stilettos Potato Brunch Recipes Parmesan Roasted Red Potatoes with Vidalia Onions and Thyme by Cook the Story A Salad Called German Potato by The Vintage Cook Breads, Grains, Cereals and Pancake-type Yums Chocolate Chip Craisin Granola Bars by Big Bear’s Wife Dandelion Pesto Pizza by Culinary Adventures with Camilla Biscoff Walnut Granola Parfaits by White LIghts on Wednesday Stuffed French Toast by poet in the pantry Pina Colada French Toast by The Domestic Mama & The Village Cook Sourdough Epi Baguettes with Rhubarb Blood Orange Ginger Jam by Spontaneous Tomato Carrot Cake Pancakes by Love and Confections Spreads and Dips for Brunch Strawberry-Kiwi Jam by Sweet Remedy Grilled Pineapple and Walnut Dip by Jane’s Adventures in Dinner Brunch Dessert Recipes Raspberry Sweet Rolls with Meyer Lemon Glaze by by Cravings of a Lunatic Florida Strawberry, Lavender Farmers Cheese and California Walnut Braided Pastries by Vanilla Lemonade Sour Cream Coffee Cake by Savory Sweet Eats Read the full article

[mitu444]

Make $5,000 per month by from your own website.

Generating $5,000 per month from your own website is an achievable goal, but it requires careful planning, execution, and ongoing effort. Here’s a structured approach to help you reach that goal:

1. Choose a Profitable Niche

1.1 Identify Your Passion and Expertise

Choose a niche that you are passionate about and knowledgeable in. This will make it easier to create content and engage with your audience.

1.2 Research Market Demand

Use tools like Google Trends, Ahrefs, or SEMrush to find out what people are searching for and identify profitable niches.

1.3 Analyze Competition

Research competitors to understand their strengths, weaknesses, and monetization strategies.

2. Build a Professional Website

2.1 Create High-Quality Content

Publish valuable, relevant content that addresses your audience’s needs and interests. This could be blog posts, videos, or tutorials.

2.2 Optimize for SEO

Use on-page and off-page SEO techniques to improve your site’s search engine rankings. Focus on keyword research, quality backlinks, and technical SEO.

2.3 Ensure Mobile Responsiveness

Make sure your website is mobile-friendly and provides a good user experience across all devices.

3. Monetization Strategies

3.1 Affiliate Marketing

Promote products or services related to your niche and earn commissions on sales generated through your referral links.

Join affiliate programs like Amazon Associates, ShareASale, or CJ Affiliate.

3.2 Advertising

Display Ads: Use ad networks like Google AdSense to place ads on your site.

Sponsored Posts: Collaborate with brands for sponsored content.

Direct Ad Sales: Sell ad space directly to businesses relevant to your niche.

3.3 Create and Sell Digital Products

E-books: Write and sell e-books related to your niche.

Online Courses: Develop and sell online courses or webinars.

Templates and Tools: Create useful templates, tools, or resources for your audience.

3.4 Offer Memberships or Subscriptions

Create a membership site with exclusive content, resources, or community access for a recurring fee.

Offer premium content or features through a subscription model.

3.5 Provide Services

Offer consulting, coaching, or freelance services based on your expertise.

4. Drive Traffic to Your Website

4.1 Content Marketing

Regularly publish high-quality, SEO-optimized content.

Use guest blogging and content syndication to reach a broader audience.

4.2 Social Media Marketing

Promote your content and engage with your audience on social media platforms like Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and LinkedIn.

4.3 Email Marketing

Build an email list and send regular newsletters with valuable content and promotions.

Use lead magnets (e.g., free e-books, checklists) to grow your email list.

4.4 Paid Advertising

Use PPC advertising on Google Ads or social media ads to drive targeted traffic to your site.

5. Track and Optimize

5.1 Use Analytics

Monitor your website’s performance with tools like Google Analytics and track key metrics (e.g., traffic sources, conversion rates).

5.2 A/B Testing

Test different headlines, CTAs, and landing pages to optimize for higher conversion rates.

5.3 Optimize Revenue Streams

Regularly review and adjust your monetization strategies based on performance data.

6. CLICK HERE

6.1 Expand Content

Increase the volume and variety of your content to attract more visitors.

6.2 Diversify Income Streams

Explore additional monetization methods to maximize your revenue.

6.3 Automate Processes

Use tools and software to automate tasks like email marketing, social media posting, and reporting.

6.4 Collaborate and Network

Partner with influencers, other bloggers, or businesses in your niche to expand your reach and grow your audience.

By focusing on these strategies and consistently working on improving your website, you can achieve the goal of making $5,000 per month. Remember, building a successful website and generating significant income takes time, dedication, and ongoing effort.

[bodhietologie]

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** Ich hoffe, diese Informationen helfen dir weiter! Wenn du weitere Fragen hast oder eine noch detailliertere Morgenroutine wünschst, lass es mich wissen!

UPDA†ES!!! ** † HptHP: https://bodhie.eu

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[joeljvirtue]

Mike Morawski - The Top 3 Fundamentals for Multifamily Investing Success

Key Takeaways

Combine short-term cash flow with long-term generational wealth using tools like IRAs and 1031 exchanges.

Accurate underwriting with reliable data, like CoStar, builds investor confidence.

Regular networking and relationship-building are essential for expanding your investor base.

Use e-books and checklists as lead magnets to attract and nurture potential investors.

A well-maintained contact database is vital for long-term success and investor engagement.

Writing books and speaking at events boost credibility and attract investors.

Episode Timeline

[00:01:00] Mike's Solo Podcast Initiative.

[00:02:00] The three essential fundamentals for success in multifamily investing.

[00:08:00] Understanding underwriting processes and financial metrics.

[00:13:00] Introducing CoStar as a sponsor, describing its value in market data.

[00:15:00] Strategies for raising capital include effective networking.

[00:16:00] Mike compares raising capital to fishing and farming.

[00:18:00] The importance of nurturing leads through email marketing

[00:19:00] Database management and staying in touch with clients & investors.

[00:22:00] Closing remarks about balancing all three strategies

Contact

Website: https://mikemorawski.com/

Email: mike@mikemorawski.com

Check out this Insider Secrets episode!

[boise-web]

Effective Guerrilla Marketing Ideas for Small Businesses in Your Neighborhood

In the bustling landscape of modern commerce, small businesses often find themselves competing against larger corporations with substantial marketing budgets. However, for those savvy entrepreneurs willing to think outside the box, there exists a powerful tool: guerrilla marketing. Guerrilla marketing involves unconventional and low-cost tactics that prioritize creativity, imagination, and grassroots efforts to engage with potential customers. In the context of your neighborhood, where community ties are strong and word-of-mouth is invaluable, guerrilla marketing can be particularly potent. Here are some effective guerrilla marketing ideas tailored specifically for small businesses looking to make a big impact in their local area: Sidewalk Chalk Art Transform the sidewalks outside your business into colorful works of art. Whether it's a witty message, a playful illustration, or an invitation to come inside, sidewalk chalk art is eye-catching and interactive. Encourage passersby to take photos and share them on social media, amplifying your reach within the community. Pop-Up Events Host pop-up events in unexpected locations around your neighborhood. Whether it's a flash sale, a live demonstration, or a mini-workshop related to your business, these events create excitement and generate buzz. Choose high-traffic areas to maximize visibility and engagement. Branded Freebies Distribute branded freebies such as stickers, magnets, or tote bags featuring your business logo and contact information. These items serve as both useful tools for your customers and walking advertisements for your business as they use them in their daily lives. Community Sponsorship Sponsor local events, sports teams, or community initiatives. By aligning your brand with causes and activities that resonate with your target audience, you not only support your community but also increase your visibility and credibility among potential customers. Guerilla Art Installations Surprise and delight your neighborhood with guerrilla art installations that incorporate your brand in creative ways. Whether it's a series of painted murals, whimsical sculptures, or interactive installations, guerrilla art can spark conversations and leave a lasting impression on those who encounter it. Flash Mob or Street Performance Organize a flash mob or street performance that showcases your products or services in a memorable way. This attention-grabbing spectacle can attract crowds and generate excitement, drawing attention to your business in the process. Local Collaborations Partner with other small businesses in your neighborhood to cross-promote each other's products or services. Collaborative marketing efforts not only expand your reach but also foster a sense of camaraderie within the local business community. Urban Stenciling Use stencils to create temporary, branded artwork on sidewalks, walls, or other public surfaces. From quirky designs to thought-provoking messages, urban stenciling is a guerrilla marketing tactic that allows you to leave your mark on the neighborhood in a bold and unconventional way. Guerrilla Giveaways Hide branded giveaways or vouchers in unexpected places throughout your neighborhood, such as inside books at the local library or tucked behind a community notice board. This treasure hunt-style promotion encourages exploration and engagement while driving traffic to your business. Social Media Challenges Launch a social media challenge that encourages locals to interact with your brand online. Whether it's a photo contest, a hashtag challenge, or a user-generated content campaign, social media challenges can generate buzz and encourage community participation. In conclusion, guerrilla marketing offers small businesses in your neighborhood a powerful toolkit for standing out in a crowded marketplace. By embracing creativity, resourcefulness, and a willingness to think outside the box, you can effectively engage with your local community and drive meaningful results for your business. So, unleash your imagination, take to the streets, and let your guerrilla marketing efforts leave a lasting impression on your neighborhood. The author generated this text in part with GPT-3, OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model. Upon generating draft language, the author reviewed, edited, and revised the language to their own liking and takes ultimate responsibility for the content of this publication.   Read the full article

[toughgirlchallenges]

Sue Stockdale - First UK woman to reach the magnetic North Pole. Author of “EXPLORE: A Life of Adventure”.

In 1996, Sue Stockdale achieved a remarkable feat: she became the first British woman to set foot on the Magnetic North Pole, a journey she never thought possible. 

What followed was a realisation that her success held a profound purpose—to inspire others to venture beyond their comfort zones and unearth their untapped potential.

Sue's captivating memoir, "EXPLORE: A Life of Adventure," chronicles her life's journey, commencing from challenging beginnings and extending into a lifetime of intrepid exploration in some of the world's harshest environments, including the North Pole, Antarctica, and Greenland. 

Within these epic adventures lie invaluable life lessons that Sue readily shares, illustrating how the mindset, discipline, and commitment honed in the crucible of extreme exploration are equally applicable in the professional sphere.

"EXPLORE" serves as a wellspring of inspiration, urging all of us to embark on our personal odysseys of self-discovery. Sue firmly believes that no endeavour is too daunting when undertaken with determination, a well-conceived plan, and a readiness to embrace discomfort.

***

The Tough Girl Podcast is being sponsored throughout January by ZOLEO. #ChallengeWithZOLEO

ZOLEO connects with your phone to provide seamless global messaging that follows you in and out of mobile network coverage — plus added safety features you can count on worldwide including industry-leading SOS alerting features. 24/7 monitoring and 24/7 access to non-emergency medical advice, check-in and weather forecasts. ZOLEO offers unmatched peace of mind for you and for everyone waiting at home. 

  Stay connected and safe while doing what you love.

   Hit the subscribe button to stay updated on the incredible journeys and stories of tough women. New episodes LIVE every Tuesday and Thursday at 7am UK time.

  Show notes:

Who is Sue

Describing herself as an adventurer

Not going on to guides

Growing up and not doing adventurous things

Going on a cycling trip at 15

Not having any role models

Being inspired by books like Enid Blyton's Famous Five and Secret Seven

The unexpected death of her mom when she was 14

Wanting to make the most of her life

Challenging herself to see what she's capable of

Sue's memoir, Explore: A Life of Adventure 

Adventure mindset, inner voice, and risk-taking

Why did she write the book

Becoming the first UK woman to ski to the Magnetic North Pole

Deciding to apply despite feeling unqualified

Being determined and believing in herself

Overcoming fears and fundraising for an Arctic expedition

Being part of a team of 10 people

Her initial lack of experience in cross-country skiing

Being very optimistic and having an adventurous mindset at heart

Expedition leader David Hempleman-Adams

Engaging in an exercise as a team called "what if list" to share their fears and concerns

Advocates for facing fears by writing them down and talking about them

Successfully securing sponsorship for her expedition

Mental and physical challenges during her North Pole expedition in 1996

Talking about period while she's out on the ice

Bonding between her and Susanna, the first Swedish woman to reach the extreme

Learning to tolerate each other's differences and frustrations during the expedition

How her experience at the North Pole changed her perspective on life

Deciding to set up a business as a motivational speaker

Joining Robert Swan on an expedition down to Antarctica

The process of evolution and building up her business

Entrepreneurship and finding her unique calling

Pushing herself too hard and judging herself too negatively

Talking about her podcast

Final words of advice

  Social Media

Website: suestockdale.com 

Podcast: Access to Inspiration 

Twitter: @suestockdale 

Youtube: @SueStockdale 

  Check out this episode!

[miscgyan]

Unleashing the Power of Hyperlocal Social Media Marketing: A Comprehensive Guide

In the vast world of social media marketing, where global reach often takes the spotlight, there's a hidden gem waiting to be explored - Hyperlocal Social Media Marketing. Imagine being the go-to spot in your neighborhood, where the local community not only supports you but passionately engages with your brand. In this ultimate guide, we'll unravel the secrets of Hyperlocal Social Media Marketing and provide you with six actionable strategies to turn your social media into a magnet for nearby customers.

Master the Local Listings Game

Navigating the world of hyperlocal marketing is like planting a neon flag on your virtual corner. Claiming and optimizing local listings on platforms like Google My Business, Facebook Pages, and Yelp ensures your business is easily discoverable, credible, and serves as an engagement hub for building local relationships. It's about painting your virtual storefront bright and welcoming, ensuring nearby customers find you effortlessly.

Be the Neighborhood Buzz

Joining the local conversation is the key to becoming the hottest topic on the neighborhood social media scene. By sponsoring local events, engaging authentically, and celebrating local heroes, you show that your business is not just a service provider; it's an integral part of the community. The goal is to be the friendly neighbor everyone wants to chat with and, in turn, the virtual watercooler where everyone gathers to talk about all things local.

Paint a Picture with Hyperlocal Content

Generic stock photos won't cut it in hyperlocal marketing. Hyperlocal content, showcasing the unique charm and personality of your area, is the real deal. Highlighting local landmarks, showcasing local products, and capturing the local vibe authentically connect with customers on a deeper level. It's about telling your neighborhood story visually and inviting customers to be a part of it.

Run Hyperlocal Social Media Ad Campaigns

Targeting specific audiences within a defined geographic radius is the essence of hyperlocal advertising. Platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and others offer robust options for hyperlocal audience targeting. Craft irresistible offers, define your target zone, and monitor and refine your campaigns based on results. It's about reaching the right people with the right message at the right time.

Collaborate for Hyperlocal Growth

In the world of hyperlocal social media marketing, collaboration is a win-win. Partnering with local businesses, co-hosting events, running cross-promotions, and supporting local initiatives not only expands your reach but also strengthens community ties. It's about finding your local partners in crime and watching your hyperlocal network grow.

Amplify Your Voice: Unleash the Power of User-Generated Content

User-generated content (UGC) is the hyperlocal goldmine. Encourage customers to share their experiences through contests, challenges, and feature their stories on your platforms. It builds trust, encourages engagement, and showcases your business through the eyes of your most loyal fans. It's about letting your customers sing your praises and creating a buzz within the community.

Unleash Local Love with MiscGyan

Hyperlocal social media marketing is not just about sales; it's about building relationships, becoming a part of the neighborhood fabric, and showcasing the heart and soul of your business. At MiscGyan, we're passionate about helping businesses thrive in their own communities. Ready to write your own hyperlocal success story? Grab your digital paintbrush, join the local conversation, and start painting your neighborhood masterpiece. Your loyal fans, just a few clicks away, are waiting to be delighted. To learn more, book a no-strings strategy consult with us today!

[hirshmohindrachicago]

Economics of Baseball: A Grand Slam for Revenue and Passion

**Introduction**

Baseball, often referred to as America’s pastime, is not just a beloved sport but also a significant economic force. The economics of baseball encompass a wide range of factors, from player salaries and team revenues to the impact of the sport on local economies and businesses, says Hirsh Mohindra. This article delves into the various aspects of the economics of baseball, exploring how this sport generates revenue, fosters economic growth, and captures the hearts of millions worldwide.

**1. Player Salaries and Contracts**

One of the most visible economic aspects of baseball is the staggering salaries of professional players. Major League Baseball (MLB) players earn substantial incomes, with star players signing lucrative contracts that often run into hundreds of millions of dollars, says Hirsh Mohindra. These contracts are influenced by player performance, market demand, endorsements, and the team’s financial capabilities. The high salaries not only reflect the talent and dedication of the athletes but also drive the economic engine of the sport, attracting investments and sponsors.

**2. Revenue Streams**

Baseball teams generate revenue from various sources, including ticket sales, merchandise, broadcasting rights, and sponsorships. Ticket sales are a significant portion of a team’s income, with fans flocking to stadiums to experience the thrill of live games. Merchandise, ranging from jerseys to memorabilia, contributes substantially to team revenue, especially for popular teams with a dedicated fan base. Broadcasting rights, both for television and digital platforms, provide teams with substantial income, allowing fans from around the world to follow their favorite teams and players.

**3. Impact on Local Economies**

Hirsh Mohindra: Baseball stadiums are not just venues for sports; they are economic hubs that stimulate local economies. The presence of a baseball team in a city creates jobs, not only within the stadium but also in surrounding areas. Restaurants, hotels, bars, and local shops thrive on game days, attracting fans before and after matches. Moreover, the construction and maintenance of stadiums generate revenue for local businesses and contractors, enhancing the overall economic vitality of the region.

**4. Baseball and Tourism**

Baseball also acts as a magnet for tourism. Fans travel across the country to attend games, boosting tourism-related businesses. Cities hosting major baseball events experience an influx of visitors, leading to increased hotel bookings, restaurant reservations, and tourist activities. Baseball museums and Hall of Fames are additional attractions that draw tourists, providing economic benefits to their respective communities.

**5. Social and Cultural Impact**

Beyond economics, baseball plays a significant role in shaping social and cultural landscapes. It fosters a sense of community and belonging among fans, creating shared experiences and traditions. Baseball games often serve as social gatherings, bringing people together and strengthening social bonds. Moreover, the sport has historical and cultural significance, reflecting the values and identity of the communities it represents.

**Conclusion**

The economics of baseball are multifaceted, encompassing player contracts, revenue streams, local economic impact, tourism, and cultural significance, says Hirsh Mohindra. As a sport deeply embedded in the fabric of society, baseball continues to evolve, adapting to modern economic challenges and technological advancements. Its ability to generate substantial revenue while fostering a sense of belonging and passion among fans cements its position not only as a sporting phenomenon but also as an economic powerhouse.

Originally Posted: https://hirshmohindra.com/economics-of-baseball/

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Explore the Wonders of Robcyns Clothing and Accessories

You know when you wander into a store and you’re not quite sure where to look first? Where there are so many great products practically leaping off the shelves to grab your attention? That’s what it’s like when you first visit Robcyns in Alexandria, Virginia. This lovely small business prioritizes customer service while bringing its customers the finest in clothing, toys, dancewear, and even Girl Scout accouterment!   

About Robcyns

  Robcyns first opened in 1963, and in the 50 years since, thousands of guests have found treasures within their store. From women’s clothing and accessories to children’s clothing, toys, and books, they carry a wide variety of inventory that always keeps you excited to shop. Known for their exceptional customer service, you just may find that you enter as a customer but leave as a friend.  To this day, Robcyns is a family-owned and operated business that values quality and customer satisfaction. They know that the best kinds of customers are those that return again and again, bringing friends along with them! Robcyns is an active part of the greater Alexandria community, so don’t be surprised if you see them out and about sponsoring events and donating products to fundraisers! Products Robcyns is a store that has a little bit of everything. Whether you’re coming in with a specific item in mind or looking to let the right item jump out at you from the shelf, they’ll likely have what you need. Their selection of women’s clothing features items that are fashionable, balancing the line of trendy and timeless.  While grown-up items take up a decent amount of the store’s inventory, where Robcyns really shines is its selection of treasures for kids. They carry tons of toys to delight and inspire kids of all ages and books that will ignite any imagination. There’s also plenty of attire for babies and children from fabulous brands like Magnetic Me and Milkbarn. Looking for the perfect baby gift? Robcyns has plenty of charming accessories for the newest addition in your life.    Specialty Robcyns has become the place to go for families looking for specialty items for their children. They have an inventory of school uniforms for those who need them and are often recommended by schools that require them. Families with dancers of all ages will find a complete line of dance apparel and shoes that are specific to style (ballet, jazz, tap, etc.). They carry reputable brands like Capezio and So Danca that are made to last through hours of rigorous rehearsals. Additionally, Robcyns carries a line of official Girl Scout Supplies like sashes, patches, pins, and handbooks.  These niche products are part of what makes Robcyns a standout in the community and a must-visit for anyone in search of the perfect dance shoe, school uniform, or Girl Scout pin.  

Robcyns

  Robcyns is a charming shop in Alexandria, Virginia that is always stocked with plenty of treasures. Check out their website to get a sense of their diverse inventory, but when you’re ready to shop, it’s well worth a visit to the store.    As a mom, I’ve learned that community is so essential throughout these early years. Whether helping others find valuable resources or working with them to create beautiful memories, I adore being there for families. If you’ve been searching for a Northern Virginia family photographer to document this precious time, I’d love to chat! Contact me today to find out more.   For more motherhood content, check out these blog posts: - Northern Virginia Spas to Treat Yourself with Luxurious Experiences - Discover Hidden Treasures for Families at Red Barn Mercantile!   Read the full article

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Book sponsored by

Michael Honn

Deep Downstream: Tales From The Shallow Abyss

🔗https://a.co/d/8ASavUs

🔗mhonn.net

Seven short stories of everyday horror. From dry deserts to lakeside chills. To the downward depths of humanity and back. An anthology showcasing the darker sides of life.

For fans of legacy authors like Stephen King and Jeff Lindsay, comes a cluster of horror laden life experiences, their close proximity tucked away in the shadow of the subconscious. Kept at bay only by pure luck and happenstance. Stories for those who have grown tired of mindless slashers, endless jump scares, and boring gore fests.

Just in time for the spooky season of Halloween 2023, come feel the experiences of the characters within. But be careful, because the darkness follows closely. No clowns, serial killers, or heavy gore, but something much more dark and sinister, creeping just below the surface where shallow water lies.

1. A sibling suddenly loses their sister in a giant freezer, will she ever return?

2. Meredith just wants to nail her upcoming Zoom interview, but encounters a wrong place at the wrong time moment on steroids. It follows her home.

3. A troubled young man lying in a local hospital bed becomes a magnet for one of the seven gates of hell, opened up unknowingly by his roommate at the Devil’s hour.

4. Jade is just a college aged Lyft driver, who encounters a passenger that gives her much more than she originally bargained for. A chemical ride and the delivery of forbidden cargo.

5. A regional debt collection law firm lets little life slip through their iron grasp, but will the next knock at the door be their last?

6. Little Timmy Harris ventures too far out into the wilderness with his Boy Scout troop, and becomes one with something sinister sleeping deep below the soil.

7. A man dressed in the most subtle, gentle, all encompassing black engulfs the lack of life before him, a feeding frenzy up close in slow motion.

These tales can be found lurking deep within the following pages. Everyday life colliding with the unimaginable. Will you venture inside? Or wander too far out?

Follow Michael’s musings at: mhonn.net