#office space in Atlanta

[stratuspropertygroup]

Atlanta Real Estate Brokers

Rely on Stratus Property Group and our team of experienced Atlanta real estate brokers for all your property needs!

[venturexatlantabuckhead]

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

[gellymark-blog]

Rent Out Office Space To Streamline Your Business Operations In Atlanta

Renting out office spaces has become a transformative solution for businesses, enabling them to streamline operations, reduce costs, and foster growth. With the added benefits of flexibility, scalability, and access to professional amenities, companies can optimize their resources and unlock new opportunities for success. To explore office rental options, visit sageworkspace.com today.

[brisingamenconcepts]

Kitchen - Industrial Kitchen Inspiration for a large, open-concept, industrial kitchen remodel with a single-bowl sink, dark wood cabinets with recessed panels, quartz countertops, a beige stone tile backsplash, stainless steel appliances, and an island.

[carlos-arl]

Kitchen in Atlanta Inspiration for a large industrial single-wall medium tone wood floor open concept kitchen remodel with a single-bowl sink, recessed-panel cabinets, dark wood cabinets, quartz countertops, beige backsplash, stone tile backsplash, stainless steel appliances and an island

[latenightreadingpdf]

Whispers in the Night - Spencer Reid

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hometoursandotherstuff]

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

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

Look at the skylights and the potting table.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This secondary is nice and roomy with stone walls.

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

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

Rocky little room with a wine rack.

Outside there's a courtyard with a lovely patio.

The little stone grill has a gas grill inside.

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

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

The gardens are magical.

Sooo pretty.

With the right decor this home could be stunning.

This is like a Wonderland.

Koi pond.

Like a botanical garden attraction.

Then, back around to the house.

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

[misguidedasgardian]

Wild Cats (part VI)

VI. A time to mourn

MASTERLIST

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

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

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

+18, MINORS DNI

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

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

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

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

“How do you know?”, she asked

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

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

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

“You have known this whole time?”, asked 

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

“Who are they?”, Carol asked

“Grady Memorial hospital”, you said

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

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

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

You had ran out of fuel

You looked outside and the neighborhood looked painfully familiar

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach was in knots.

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

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

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

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

I’M SORRY

“No, no, no, no”, you whispered.

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

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

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

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

“Move”, he commanded

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

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

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

It immediately stopped moving, falling to the floor.

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

Daryl looked at him

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You did not want to share, not like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You resumed your work, wrapping your friend more properly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to get Beth back”

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

“Ye’ know Beth?”, Daryl asked quickly

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

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

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

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

“Why you’d scape?”, you asked the boy

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There is no other way”, the kid said

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

“There is no way in”, he said surely

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

“I’m Noah, by the way”, he said

“I’m Daryl”

“Carol”

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

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

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

[essentiallyflown]

i want us, too

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

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

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

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

Up then down “I want this, okay?”

“I want us”

3 months ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now

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

Expect you and Jack, of course.

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

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

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

“Because what you’re saying is bullshit!”

“Oh, so what I’m saying is invalid?”

“That’s not what I meant!”

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

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

“Do you even love me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

I want us, too

[steampunkforever]

The pistol has little use in wartime. There. I said it. Pistols in wartime are for making the officers feel like the prettiest boys at the party. In truth, wartime engagement distances are way too far for pistols to matter, and weapons technology has developed compact rifle caliber packages that are far superior at close quarters warfare compared to the handling and limitations of a pistol.

Civilian, spycraft, and police use are more sensible pistol doctrines than wartime use. A pistol to protect yourself from a mugger, home invader, or carjacker (Atlanta still has those or so I’ve heard) makes perfect sense considering the tight spaces in which these conflicts occur and the need to limit overpenetration in civilian areas. Battlefield ranges, on the other hand, require rifle rounds to reach out and put holes in armor, something pistols cannot do.

Pistols are also more covert than even the smaller pistol caliber carbines. Undercover operatives armed with a pistol either for defensive or offensive purposes can keep one low profile and tucked away, sometimes even just comfortably stored in their pocket. The quieter report of a pistol means that even with a suppressor installed, the overall package stays small and discreet, something that doesn’t really matter when the rules of war prevent soldiers from dressing as civilians.

The pistol is for quick, short-range, dynamic engagements. Police work is full of these. The limited weight and portability of a pistol means that one can be comfortably strapped to a gun belt for a day of patrolling, and with most civilian gun battles lasting less than ten seconds, the limited magazine round count doesn’t matter for day to day operations. The militarization of the police is trying to change this, of course, but it comes down to the fact that an MTA cop simply doesn’t want to be carrying a 10 to 15 pound hunk of metal slung across his chest all day when he could just keep a 5 pound lump comfortably on his belt.

Practicality wins out here, and a pistol is going to make much more sense for someone living in a friendly city with less imminent danger than someone dropped in a world battlefield having to go up against battle rifles.

All this to say that actually, Shadow the hedgehogs use of pistols is probably more justified by tactical doctrine than the guy on the cover of Modern Warfare II.

[stratuspropertygroup]

Office Space In Atlanta

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

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

Deciphering the Broker's Role

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

Charting Atlanta's Office Space Terrain

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

The Advantages of Collaborating with a Broker

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

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

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

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

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

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

Partnering with a Broker in Atlanta

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

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

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

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

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

Selecting the Right Broker

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

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

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

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

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

In Conclusion

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

[gellymark-blog]

Grow Your Business With Office Space Rental In Atlanta

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

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Art References for Chapter 5 of undernearth the sunrise (show me where your love lies)

Yes, hi- surprise epilogue time!

Moonlit Night on the Dnieper, Arkhip Kuindzhi, 1880

“Let me get your old bones up on the roof, grandpa,” Monty says, flashing Edwin a smirk.

“You are three years younger than us, do not act like we are cradle snatchers,” Edwin says with a roll of the eyes even as he fixes his gaze on the door to the roof, a determined glint in his eyes that sparkles against the dark attic like Kuindzhi’s moon over the Dnieper river. He unbuttons his suit jacket and rolls back the cuffs on his button-up to whistles from both Monty and Charles. “God, why do I put up with you two?”

“Because you love us,” Charles says at the same time that Monty says, “Because we’re fantastic influences and you know it.”

The Gates of Time Square, Chryssa, 1972

"The thing about going to England is that Monty kind of expected it to give him a new perspective on Edwin and Charles. To tell him more about the places that they grew up, the places that shaped them, the places that raised them.

And it has, in a lot of ways. It showed him the kind of people that they could have turned out to be but didn't. Because they were better than the world that they grew up in. Because they were more open-minded, because they were determined to become better people, because they have always been the brightest thing in every room they’re in, as neon bright as Chryssa’s tributes to the city that never sleeps."

Symphony of the sixth blast furnace, Evgeny Sedukhin, 1979

"Nowadays, Charles isn’t as nervous about taking up space. About knowing his own worth. He could have gone up to Simon and told him exactly what he thought and not been afraid of the consequences. 

But Monty deserves a place to be brilliant, too. A place to take up space without fear. A place to be as explosively bright as that Sedukhin painting he showed them last month in his Modernism textbook, rambling on about light and values and the tenets of Soviet Realism."

Young Woman in a Niche with a Parrot and Cage, Gerrit Dou, 1660-65

"Monty thinks about Esther and Tommy and that studio apartment that should have meant freedom but instead kept him trapped within his mother's arms with only the illusion of freedom. He was a bird able to leave its cage, but never able to fly away from its master, like one of the several copies Gerrit Dou made of his ladies and parrots and cages."

Nocturne, James McNeill Whistler, 1870-77

"As they descend out of the clouds and onto a waking Atlanta, Georgia, where they'll transfer to their flight to London, Monty can’t help but think about Whistler’s Nocturne series, the grays and blue and golds, the early morning light bleeding into dark in the same way that Whistler’s nighttime scapes did."

The Boulevard Montmartre at Night, Camille Pissarro, 1897

"Monty has taken to driving to the sports foundation’s tiny office at the local high school in order to pick up Charles after his own shifts at the museum, where Monty finally went full-time at the end of the summer, leading to him finally being able to quit his gas station job. He’s been so much more at ease since then, finally in his element, bright as the lanterns flickering in one of the Pissarro paintings that Monty loves so much."

@deadboy-edwin @icecreambrownies @anonymousbooknerd-universe @ashildrs

@tragedy-machine @orpheusetude @jaysbraindump

@pappelsiin @itsbitmxdinhere @rexrevri @sweet-like-h0ney-lavender @saffirez

@the-ipre @sunnylemonss @days-light @agentearthling @helltechnicality

@sethlost @catboy-cabin @secretlyafiveheadeddragon @vyther15

@anything-thats-rock-and-roll @queen-of-hobgobblers @every-moment-a-different-sound

@nix-nihili @mellxncollie @tumblerislovetumblerislife @lemurafraidofthunder

@likemmmcookies @wr0temyway0ut @thelakeswillbreakourfall

[bullet-prooflove]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s usually reserved for your most intimate moments.

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

“Sugar…” He begins before catching himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The First Day of My Life…

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

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

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

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[miyuhpapayuh]

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

Her red bottoms click against the black marble with each stride she takes, her fiery red curls flowing down her back. 

Pushing through the glass doors, she pulls her deep burgundy, fur computer chair away from the desk and sits down, grabbing her buzzing phone.

“What?" Simone's sultry, yet irritated voice fills her ex-boyfriend's ears.  

"Why you keep sending me to voicemail? You too good to answer me, now?" He spats.  

"Anything I do is too good for you, B. I don't even know why I gave your dumb ass a chance, in the first place." She scoffs a laugh, pulling the phone away from her ear and putting it on speaker.  

"Wow.... that's how you do me?"

"You cheated on me. What am I supposed to say to you? What do we have to talk about?"  

"I keep trying to apologize—"

"Save it." She hangs up and blocks the number, rolling her eyes as she turns around and stares out of her big window.  

"Boys."

"Indeed," Jada comes in with a bottle of champagne. Simone turns back around and laughs.

"Is it too early to celebrate?" She asks, sitting the chilled bottle on the desk.

Simone checks her watch and shakes her head, reaching into a compartment under her desk, pulling out two wine glasses.

"It's five o'clock and right about now!... I need a damn drink."

“Let's pop this bottle then, bitch!"

Pulling the cork out of the bottle, the popping sound echoes throughout the space. The fizzy alcohol slightly spills from the top and down the side of the bottle.

The clinking of their glasses and laughter is just what she needs, after another long day of being the best editor in chief in Atlanta, Georgia.

Allura has been her reigning domain for about three years and counting, and she's never felt so powerful.

Having one of the biggest offices with the nicest view on the corner of Peachtree was more than a lifelong accomplishment for her, especially doing it all at the young age of twenty-five.

“Congratulations! We all know that your name should be on every issue. I'm so glad that you're finally being recognized for all the work you put in to make us look fabulous!"

“Thank you, chica! You're up next!"

“Simone, you've got a call on line three,” her personal assistant, Logan, buzzes through.

Sitting her glass down, she pushes the little red button and thanks Logan, before picking up the phone.

“Hello?"

“That beautiful voice is one I could listen to, forever."

A deep chuckle rattles through the phone and down her spine, but she quickly recovers, raising her eyebrows at Jada.

“Is that so?"

Jada grabs the champagne bottle and her glass, before slipping out of the door. Simone laughs and shakes her head.

"Indeed. How's your day going?"

"Well, our next issue just went out and my name is on the cover.”

The excitement in her voice is unmistakable.

"That's incredible, princess."

she swoons at the nickname.

"I'm so proud of you. Did you celebrate?"

"Thank you and yes, my best friend and I popped open that damn champagne bottle that's been staring at me for weeks!"

"Weeks." He reiterates, making her laugh.

“I thought you were gonna wait 'til I made it back, to open it."

"Well, originally, I was— why didn't you call my phone? This, technically, isn't a business call."

The deep chuckle returns. "You're a very busy woman, Ms. Carson. I didn't wanna disturb you."

“Hm... fair enough," she sticks her tongue into her cheek, "enough about me... how are you?”

"As long as I'm talking to you, I'm great."

She giggles, sipping on the golden toned liquid that's left in her glass.

"When you kiss ass, you get both cheeks, don't you?"

“Hm, I guess I should pay you a visit, soon. You get a little rowdy, when I'm away for too long—"

“—is that right?," she cuts him off.

A pet peeve of his. He licks his lips and laughs, but she knows it's less than amusing to him.

“That's right. You like startin' fires, but I'm coming to put ‘em out."

She crosses her legs, smirking as her plan works, once again.

“When?"

“Soon."

“I won't be waiting."

A little lie never hurt anybody, right?  

Lie on this phone, again, Simone."

She rolls her eyes as if he can see her.

"I'll see you when I see you."

She hangs up and steps away from her desk, heading out of her own office and further down the hall to Jada's. Walking into the creamsicle colored office, Simone takes a whiff of the cinnamon incense burning, before that amused chuckle fills her ears.

“That was a quick little conversation." Jada eyes Simone as she moves towards the window, with a sly smirk on her face.

“What can I say?" she sighs, "we don't beat around the bush."

"Mmhm. He gon' come beat them walls down, ain't he?" She asks.

A boisterous laugh escapes her, before she can stop it.

“Is he really?!"

The excitement is unmistakable in her tone as she moves from her chair to poke Simone's side.

“He's always poppin' up to put me in my place as he calls it."

“When's the last time he came down?"

“February," she replies.

"It's damn near May, girl!"

“I know, Jada. How do you think I feel?”

“I'd be dead by now, no lie. The way you talk about him, he's the truth."

Simone pulls on her open collar and sighs. "...with his arrogant, fine ass."

They both laugh and move away from the window. "So," closing her office door, Simone raises an eyebrow at Jada. "Where's lover boy?"

“Oh God," Jada rolls her eyes, "he's around here, somewhere. I had to shoo him away—"

“Why?!"

“Cause he's tryna make me fall in love with him! I do not wanna do that. We can fuck— we can do that all day long— but that's it."

"Yeah, right. You know you want him all to yourself.”

“In the nastiest way, possible.... yes."

"Hm.....well I'm gonna head home. Enjoy the champagne."

"I will! Text me when you make it."

"Will do."

Heading back into her maroon hued office, she grabs her phone off her desk and her bag from her bottom drawer, before turning off her lights and locking her door behind herself.

Heading towards the elevator, she pushes the button to take her downstairs. Her phone goes off with a message. The doors slide open and she steps on, pushing the golden button with the dim 1 on it, lighting it up. She pulls her phone out and scoffs a laugh.

Call me when you get home.

So you can harass me, some more?

Cut that out. I just wanna talk.

Stepping off the elevator, she makes her way down the wide hall and passes the receptionist, waving her goodbye.

“Have a wonderful night, Ms. Carson."

“You too, Liz."

Making her way outside, she heads towards her red Mercedes and gets in, plugging her phone up to her Bluetooth. Summer Walker's voice flows through her speakers as she makes her engine come to life. Instead of quickly going home to call the smug bastard that weakens her knees, she cruises down the street, watching as the pink sky turns into a deep orange.

"My last nigga was a bitch nigga I need a nigga wit bout six figures. Someone who know what to do with it, yeah Someone who ain't on that goofy shit..."

“Ugh," she turns down her street and slowly pulls into her driveway, cuts the car off and walks up the brick-lined sidewalk. Once inside her loft, she locks her door and kicks her heels off, heading into her living room to plop down on her sofa.

Running her hands through her curls, she pulls her phone out and shoots a text to Jada, before tapping his contact, watching the call connect after two rings, his handsome face coming into view.

"Don't you look gorgeous.”

"You got me beat, handsome."

"I could never.”

He props his phone up and places his salt and peppered, beard-clad chin into the palm of his calloused hand, his eyes wandering down the valley of her exposed chest.

"You left the house, like that?"

"I'm grown, yes." He laughs.

"Nobody had a heart attack?"

This makes her laugh.

"The usual perverts, but it's nothing I can't handle. How was work?"

"It was fine. Just a regular day at the office, honestly. I'll be glad when I can come back."

"I thought you could just do it, without needing permission?"

"It's a little more complicated, this time. I got some deadlines to meet and then I can be outta here."

The slight pout on her face makes him smile.

"You miss me, don't you?"

"Unfortunately." Her expression straightens, but he's unfazed. He even laughs.

"Nah, you blew that mean ass act, when I picked up the phone… callin' me handsome and flippin' your hair. Don't try it, now."

"That doesn't mean anything."

She props her phone up against the stack of records on her pink tinted, glass table and leans forward, her cleavage daring to jump from underneath the silk fabric.

"You're such a tease.”

"You like it, though."

Standing back up from the couch, she grabs her phone and heads upstairs, into her bedroom. He scoffs.

"My feet are killing me,” she stresses as she lets the phone fall onto the bed, while she pulls a navy blue bralette and panty set out.

"You're annoying, but your hands work magic. I could use that, right now." She continues.

Stripping out of her work clothes in record time, she ignores his chuckle and pulls on her set, grabbing the matching robe off her vanity chair.

"When I come back, you can get all the magic you desire."

"Can I, really?" She asks in a sarcastic tone, as she sits down at her vanity and props her phone up.

A deep sigh leaves as he stares at her. "Damn... you definitely can, babygirl."

"You should find a way to come back, sooner."

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't guarantee anything."

"But, I miss you," that famous pout returns, causing him to chuckle.

"I miss you more, princess. Quit pouting."

"I'll stop pouting, when you get here." 

He shakes his head and stands up, walking into his kitchen. She hums to herself as she watches his back muscles flex underneath his shirt, with the slightest movements.

"Jesus." She mutters to herself, as he turns around to face the camera, his black sweats hanging low on his hips. Her eyes linger on his outlined print, causing a chill to creep up her spine.

"Did you hear me, babygirl?" His tone is full of amusement as he watches her eyes dart up to his face.

"What did you say?"

"You've got some gifts coming your way, tomorrow."

"What kind of gifts?" Her ears perk up.

"Just a couple of things to hold you over, until I return."

"You didn't have to get me, anything—"

"Yes I did. I know you still don't like asking for things, but we'll break you out of that. It's just a couple of gifts, I promise."

"But, babe," she whines.

"Imani. I've already told you, my money is yours to spend." She sighs, staring at her nails.

"I want you to take me out when you come back."

"Where do you wanna go?" He comes back to his chair, giving her a full view of his grown out beard.

"I don't know, yet. It's one of those restaurants where the flowers hang overhead and there's lights everywhere! I just wanna get dolled up, eat good, drink good... come back to my place and fuck good."

He raises an eyebrow at her, but she just innocently smiles. "You're something else."

"That's why you put up with me." She winks.

"That and many other reasons. But, I'll see about the restaurant and set everything up."

"Thank you, baby."

"You're welcome. What's on the agenda for tomorrow?" She groans at the mention of her backed up schedule.

"I've got a press conference in the morning. The building is supposed to be getting redesigned and my goofy ass decided to put my two cents in, and now I gotta sit in for the meeting after that. Then, I've gotta help Jada find her sister the perfect wedding dress, before next Friday— it's just a little too much going on."

"You've got this, business woman. Hard work pays off, right?"

She nods, placing her chin in the palm of her hand. "That, it does."

"It's all worth it, then."

Staring at the clock on the other end of her vanity, she sighs. "It's almost seven and I haven't eaten a thing."

"You drank on an empty stomach?"

"Yeah, but I only had half a glass. I might just order a pizza or something. And no, I don't want you to buy it for me. I'm still mad at you for paying my rent."

"You can front all you want, but I take care of mine. You keep your money in the bank and let me spend mine on you."

She rolls her eyes, fighting the smirk that makes its way onto her lips. "I'm hanging up, now."

"Why?"

"Cause, I can't fight you through this screen." He laughs.

"Keep that same energy, babygirl."

"It's kept. Goodnight." She blows a kiss.

"Goodnight."

˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.̑ෆ₊̣̇˟̑ෆ

@ghostfacekill-monger @sheabuttahwrites @thegifstories @blackerthings @twistedcharismaaa @cecereads209 @honestpreference @soufcakmistress @abeautifulmindexposed @awerkofart @nayaesworld @mauvecherie-writes @harmshake @starcrossedxwriter