#(it's not that far away and current house is not on the market yet)

[tj-crochets]

Okay so I don’t have the fluffy blanket fabric in red for a dragon, but I do have a fluffy red blanket I can use? It’s not quiiiiite as fluffy, but it’s still pretty darn fluffy, and a nice deep red kind of color, and I really want to make baby Smaug So I’m thinking I might make baby Smaug (aka a red and gold dragon) next, but before I get started on it I’ll cut out the fabric for another Bucky Bear so I’m one step closer to finishing another auction fill item

[quinnyundertow]

The Cult Leader’s Quarry

TW: NSFW 18+ , canon typical violence, murder, stalking, self-harm

CHAPTER 3 NOOSE DRAWS TIGHTER

Your home is embarrassingly sparse. The furniture is clearly secondhand from some local goodwill or flea market. The items are all mismatched and of varying levels of quality but it’s obvious the current owner cares for everything. This is what they call house poor. You spend so much on rent that the rest of your aspects of life suffer. He expected nothing more from a pathetic monkey.

The late afternoon sun paints the room in this orange glow as Suguru Geto crosses your living area. He walks in an oddly ethereal style, his robes moving almost imperceptibly. He pauses to pick up some gaudy decorative items off your side tables. He peers at them briefly before moving to the small bookcase you own. It’s mainly filled with manga trash and fantasy drivel. Though a few authors catch his eye towards the bottom, Murasaki Shikoku, Sei Shonagon, Leo Tolstoy, Fukumi Shimura, Sun Tzu, Osamu Dazai. So you’re not as stupid as he thought. For a monkey that is. He plucks out the book Colors of a Mother by Fukumi Shimura. It's an unpretentious book with nothing on the blue cover but the title and author. Turning it over in his hands he studies it for a moment. He hadn’t seen any sign you had a child. What a strange reading choice. Without another thought he pockets the book in his robes.

He’s wasting time, who cares that the monkey can read the classics. Refocusing, he takes a small black device no bigger than a pencil’s eraser. Due to his naturally tall form he doesn’t need a step stool to simply apply the tiny camera to the kitchen’s smoke detector in a way that looks inconspicuous. If Satoru wanted to destroy his curses, Suguru would just have to utilize technology rather than sorcery. There’s this voice screaming in the back of his head that he’s wasting time away from his true objective of eradicating all non-sorcerers. Nothing that voice says now matters. He has isolated himself so completely from other adults these last two years. That something about you has him coming back for more. He will devour and disassemble you; but tonight just doesn’t feel right. Not now, he can’t wait for that moment really. But he needs something more from you first. He’s not sure yet what that thing is.

Continuing his tour of your home, he notes your bedroom is surprisingly childish. You have stuffed animals strewn around the room, a thick fluffy comforter and hanging string lights. He can’t help the tiny smile that creeps on his face at the idea of the corporate woman he’s seen sleeping here at night. Speaking of corporate women, you should be home any minute now. He quickly places a camera in your bedroom before entering the messiest room in the house so far, the bathroom. You had been in a rush this morning. A makeup bag lay on your sink. Taking up your perfume he sprays a little in the air just to get a whiff. A shiver runs through him as he takes the scent in. He decides he wants to play a game with you. He picks up your toothbrush and sets it down in the opposite way you had it before. Would you notice? There’s a wall vent in the bathroom the perfect height for a voyeur's camera. He easily pops off the cover to set his camera inside when he can’t help but freeze. There’s already a camera inside the vent. It’s an older clunkier model that can’t stream but it can certainly be programmed to run at certain hours and record during them.

He feels his blood thrumming loud in his ears. Who has been spying on you? You’re his quarry, his target, his prey. Who was infringing on his territory? He barely hears your key in the front door lock before he applies his camera into a different area and leaves the older model for now. He slats the vent home and flicks off the bathroom light as you enter the main room. You’re all sighs as you shuffle around the kitchen and dining room. He’s sure you’ll have to pee soon and slips into your tub shower and stands behind the curtain.

The fact that you could find him here. Or that he could jump out and be on top of you at any second has him feeling a new type of elation he never had before. All his nerve endings are on fire as the bathroom light flicks on. The navy shower curtains is dark enough to obscure his figure. You give another long sigh and the intimate noises that follow give him an instant boner. You’re peeing while thinking you're alone. He isn’t even able to enjoy the full experience as he’s instantly is reminded of the other camera in the vent. He needs to take care of that. The idea that someone else is taking advantage of your private moments, the ones meant only for him, is going to drive him mad.

There’s the sound of your clothes hitting the floor and Suguru has an anticipatory knot his throat. One of your dainty hands reaches blindly into the shower and turns the water on. The cold water blasts his clothes but he barely feels it beneath his racing pulse. If you see him here it’s game over for you. He will either have to kill you or force you into a state where you are unable to tell anyone.

His breathing is picking up but the sound of the shower is masking it. When you step past the shower’s billowing curtain he’s going to grab you by the shoulders and slam you into the shower wall. He’ll let the freezing water spray you down. Your skin will erupt into goosebumps while your nipples harden painfully. You’ll be so terrified-

There’s a noise as you leave the bathroom. You must have forgotten something in your bedroom. Despite the fantasy's allure he exits the bath quickly. He isn’t ready for this new game to end yet.

He’s creeping to the bathroom exit when he sees a pair of your used panties at the top of your dirty clothes pile. He doesn’t even hesitate a moment before he swiftly pockets them. Geto is out of your apartment and riding the elevator to the first floor before you even return to the bathroom.

The longer he walks down the streets the more his mind works itself up into a frenzy. His consciousness is in turmoil. Why hasn’t he killed you yet? Is he getting weak? Is his resolve really that shaky? He pauses at a crosswalk on his journey to the train station. A monkey approaches him from the sidewalk. Her hips are swaying and hair is meticulously styled, “Hey handsome, looking-“ her spiel is interrupted by screams as the curse he let loose melts away her features until she’s no more than a mummified husk. He continues walking when the crosswalk indicates he’s safe to and ignores all the hysterical bystanders who just saw that monkey spontaneously combust.

So he isn’t weak, he didn’t feel anything when he murdered that woman. If anything he feels relief that one more monkey will no longer be on this planet. So you are his problem. Oddly enough that irritates him more. He pulls out the soft pink panties he had stolen off your floor. He holds them tightly in his fist as his jaw works in annoyance. He’s going to throw them into the next trash bin he passes. The entire walk home, bin after bin goes by and his grip on your cloth only tightens.

He’s doing mental gymnastics in order to justify not throwing them away. They were his reward; his trophy for his troubles. No one needed to know where it was from. He was the master of his own universe; he could do what he wished.

When he finally arrives home and locks the office door behind him his grip loosens. His fingers are slightly cramped from the extended vice grip they were held in. Little crescent moons dot the palm of his hand from his nails pressure. In a way he felt like a giddy teen once again doing something forbidden. He and Satoru had stolen panties before as a dare. This somehow felt far more satisfying.

Opening his hands he spread the cloth to view the whole article. It was cute, soft, and slightly stained at the crotch. Did someone turn you on today or were you naturally this wet? He couldn’t help but shiver as he lifted the garment to his face. He presses the softness to his cheek and inhales deeply the musky scent of you. His eyes roll back in his head as he continues to breathe you into him. He can’t wait to spread your thighs and get it from the source. Looking at the slightly damp crotch he tentatively licks, and then sucks at the fabric. There’s not enough there to taste your essence but the fact that your pussy dripped on this spot for hours today is enough to drive him wild.

He’s slipping open his robes. He doesn’t need to totally remove them to pull out his rock hard member. His tip is a furious scarlet with pearls of precum drooling from it. He’s rougher with himself than he normally would be. Your panties are pressed to his face so he can smell you all around him. He milks himself harshly and unforgivingly. He’s jerking himself to a fucking monkey. Ensuring he doesn’t enjoy the process as much as he could, he squeezes himself in a way that he will likely show bruises tomorrow. At the moment of his climax he releases his twitching cock. Slumping against the door he whimpers as he ruins his own orgasm. His hips are bucking in want, wishing for that gentle attention found in the afterglow. As long as he’s lusting over this damn monkey he doesn't intend to allow himself any real relief.

~~

It’s Thursday evening and you have been absolutely swamped at work this week. Your boss is genuinely a nice guy but when he’s getting reamed out by the higher powers, you and Zoe end up having to help with whatever unreasonable request is handed down. Instead of leaving around six both of you had pulled a late one tonight only leaving after ten PM.

The two of you sat in a smaller mom and pop restaurant, the tables on the floor are surrounded by cushions for seating. A half eaten massive bowl of ramen sits in front of you, along with an almost complete third beer. You are somewhat decent at holding your alcohol but tonight it’s hitting a little harder than normal and you are basking in that feeling.

Your attention is jerked up when Zoe slams her second beer down looking satisfied. Unlike you, Zoe cannot hold her alcohol at all and is generally reduced to a good natured giggly drunk by the evening’s end.

You're pushing around some noodles before putting them in your mouth with a lament, “What’s the buddhist version of hell.”

Zoe cackles, “We’re probably already in it. Look around you, ain’t it swell.” Suddenly a pair of chopsticks are pointing directly at your face just an inch away from your nose. Guessing you are thinking about your encounter with that monk earlier this week she continues, “You need to let that shit go. Didn’t you go past his temple when you saw him the second time? If anything, you're the stalker at this point.” Zoe eyes closed, is nodding to herself now as if someone else has made a really good point in the conversation.”

You pout heavily picking up a fishcake experimentally before putting it back into your bowl. “I wasn’t thinking about him and I didn’t call him a stalker..”

There’s a shuffling beside your booth as the third and final party member stumbles back from the restroom. He’s a lanky guy, his legs go on forever as he awkwardly sits back beside Zoe. “Let’s not use our chopsticks to point at others.” He chides lightly, tapping her arm.

Staring at her arm still stretched across the table Zoe reluctantly puts it down with a frown. “Y/N needed a scolding because she thinks she's got beef with a Buddhist Monk.”

You wave your hands quickly in embarrassment gesturing for Zoe to shut up. Unfortunately, all that did was grab your bosses interest even more. You quickly try to dissuade that interest. “I’m overreacting, really. I just ran into this monk two times and each time he just stared down like I spit on Buddha.”

Your boss tilts his head. He tends to take things seriously and apparently this would be no different. He raises a pale hand with bitten down fingernails; to rub the side of his hooked nose. “A Monk? Are they one of those culty types out of that former time association building?”

You gape up at him, which gains you an awkward but pleased smile in return, “Higuruma, how did you know that?”

He laughs under his breath so the motion is there but not the noise, “I make it my business to know what’s going on around here. I haven’t felt inclined to go to a service myself as it’s all mumbo jumbo hogwash but I’ve heard a man in monk's robes runs the place and has a decent following so far. His followers proclaim he can perform healing miracles.”

Zoe’s listening attentively despite being totally smashed and leaning against the wall for support, “Eugh, gross. Y/n, maybe walk on the opposite side of the street from now on.”

You nod at Zoe’s comment, “I have been and that seems to have worked.”

Your boss Higuruma Hiromi tilts his head to the side while watching you, “Did he say something to harass you?”

Your face is totally flushed with humiliation at this point. You are clearly overreacting and Higuruma’s kindness is just slamming that point home, “No he hasn’t said a word to me, please don’t concern yourself.”

Your boss waves for the check while mulling everything over, “You're not exactly one for theatrics. Let me know if something changes, we had better head out now if we want to make the last trains home.”

Unlike most corporate drinking, it didn’t feel forced at all when you were both invited out by Higuruma. He was unassuming and sincere, kept his private life to himself and never overstepped work boundaries like so many other men did in the workplace.

Exiting out into the cool air you watched pretty little puffs waft by from your exhales. The sidewalk was surprisingly busy considering the hour. Ahead of you Zoe gives a bit of a stagger causing you to giggle as Higuruma shakes his head in an affectionate manner before putting his arm through hers to give her balance. You can’t help but smile lightly at their backs. They would make a cute couple.. then again you didn’t even know if Higuruma was single.

It was at that point a chill went up your spine. Goosebumps rippled down your limbs and you reflexively pulled your arms to you and rubbed yourself to keep warm. You felt this undercurrent of unease, a creeping anxiety, like a predator was stalking you from the bushes. You keep walking with your group but you couldn’t help looking over your shoulder trying to see what gave you that ominous feeling. You aren’t the tallest person in the world but you figure a man in monk's robes would stick out like a sore thumb…..a man in monks robes? Why would you assume it was that monk again? You are really being weird about this whole thing. There was absolutely no one behind you that was paying you any mind. You need to stop drinking if this is how it affects your anxiety.

You turn to catch up with your group and when you do dark blue and gold catch your eye across the street. On the opposite side of the road walks the man who has been haunting your thoughts lately. The way he strolls down the sidewalk is as if he has nothing else in the world to do. Not only is he on the wrong side of the street but he’s still behind you by a block or so and isn’t even looking your way. Yet the goosebumps remain.

You turn and rush forward, bumping interesting others in order to catch up with your small group. Once within talking distance you realize there’s nothing for you to say. The man is simply existing and you’re freaking out. He’s probably on his way back to his temple which is on the way to the station. The level of panic you feel thrumming through your veins is uncalled for. You decide to stay closer to your group, feigning being unaffected, as you try with all your might not to look over your shoulder anymore to see if he’s still there.

“That’s the place right?” Higuruma nods, talking over his shoulder to you. You finally allow yourself to turn but instead of stopping at the temple’s building you're looking further back trying to find that man again walking along the sidewalk. Your gaze goes from person to person with no luck. He’s no longer on the sidewalk and you overreacted again. The guy in question probably entered his “workplace”. Higuruma watches you, puzzled as you look further behind the place for a moment and then give him your assent.

“Yeah.. that’s the place he was standing outside of when his cocksure buddy spilled my coffee and then asked me out to replace it.”

Zoe gave a fit of giggles at that, “Some men have no tact. Is it safe to assume you said no?”

You can’t help but blush at her correct assumption, “Kind of? I think. I don’t know, I ran like hell when I saw that Monk standing there all pissy.” Your group is crossing the street at an intersection close to the subway system. You can’t help but feel relief as the building fades from sight.

Zoe is leaning against Higuruma who is trying to keep a straight face as he holds her up under her arm. He fails when her next words are, “Maybe he just needs to get laid. God knows you do y/n.”

Your older boss chokes and has a minor coughing fit at the topic change, “Allllright Zoe, you’ve lost your talking privileges.” You’re scanning all three of your train passes as you head down a long group of stairs.

Zoe decides to ignore the memo and continues, “I am not judging, I need to get laid too. That’s why we’re going clubbing tomorrow evening. You can come too but you gotta loosen up a little guruma.”

His face is bright red and he looks like he's regretting everything that brought him to this point in his life. “I’ll go ahead and pass on that one Miss Zoe. I'm a little old for clubbing..also not really sure that’s appropriate as I’m your superior..”

The station is bustling with people trying to get home before the last train at midnight. There’s that loud overhead beeping letting you know the train you need is about to leave the station and the three of you race into the car and into a row of sideways seats. You couldn’t help but enjoy Zoe giving your boss the third degree. You had thought he was attractive and tried to hit on him for a while after being hired, to no avail. The man took his job as a defense attorney way too seriously for a woman to distract him.

The banter is natural and amusing as the two bicker lightly over things that don’t matter. You find yourself laughing lightly, just letting the booze marinate in you as the train leaves the station and moves towards your home. You are the second to last stop while Zoe is two before you. “Are you even able to get home safely Zoe?”

Your friend nods before flexing her arm, “You dare doubt me?” she gives a shit eating grin as Higuruma eyes her skeptically.

“I think I’ll walk Miss Zoe home. Just to be sure.” He mutters. If it was anyone other than Higuruma Hiromi you would never allow your girlfriend to be walked home by a man alone. But this man had an ironclad code of conduct and was one of those rare people you felt you could trust with your life. He sees the absolute worst of humanity every day. Trying to defend the innocent in cases that are labeled unwinnable. Sometimes his code of ethics is all he can rely on at the end of the day.

Nodding you let your body be gently jostled by the train car.’You aren’t exactly excited to be going home yourself. In fact, everyday this week you seem to dread it a little more. It had gotten to the point where you practically begged the complex's maintenance group to change your locks yesterday.

Little things had been around everyday this week. Your toothbrush, placed opposite of how you normally left it. Your makeup bag left unzipped with the smell of your perfume in the air. Those two were odd but could be explained as thoughtlessness.

Then came the harder things to explain. When collecting your dirty laundry to take to the communal washroom your dirty panties were nowhere to be found. You scoured the whole apartment trying to prove to yourself that you had just accidently left them in an odd spot to no avail. The straw that broke the camel's back was when you woke yesterday morning. One of your kitchen chairs had been pulled into your bedroom while you slept and was left for you to find facing your bed.

Once your heart was out of your throat and you could breath without hyperventilating you called the maintenance crew to get a fresh lock. That way if the landlord had lied about changing the locks before you moved in and/or had lost a spare key. It would be handled. While it isn’t a big change, you 're happy with the fact that you took initiative and got it done.

The train ride is short as you doze in your seat. Something about the warmth of the train car and the close proximity of friends gave you this sense of invulnerability. When the overhead announcer pages Zoe’s stop you look over to see Higuruma struggling with Zoe’s dead weight. You laugh at his face as the two leave the train. The doors close after a moment and the steady rhythm once again picks up. Your eyes are falling shut a little longer every time you blink. That is until an eerily familiar voice emanates from the seat directly in front of you, “Are you trying to be victimized?”

Chapter 2 ——————————Chapter 4 (TBD)

Taglist: @divinedolliebun

Shares & Reblogs are loved 🥰

[still-not-over-transformers]

hi! May I request a GN!human Reader x TFA!Swindle,

maybe reader and swindle make some sort of deal with each other (but swindle being swindle) is the one who gets the better end of the deal.

A Mutually Beneficial Partnership

TFA Swindle x GN Human Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1000+

You were nervous as you stood outside a large warehouse on a pier, waiting amongst a group of other people. This would be the first time you had ever personally attended a black market weapons auction, as you normally had your assistant Steve go in your place and represent you. Well, Steve got arrested for tax fraud and now you were stuck here amongst various shady and unsavory individuals you preferred to avoid. 

You specialized in acquiring illegal merchandize, primarily weaponry, and selling it online through the dark web for maximum profit. Currently the hot items were anything Cybertronian, especially weapons. Ever since those autobots arrived on Earth, acquiring and selling Cybertronian items became very lucrative, but you knew how to be careful. Security opened the large garage-like door to the storage unit, allowing all attendees to enter in single-file, each “guest” being searched for weapons upon entry. 

As you finally entered the venue, you found your seat and waited until the auction began. After the auctioneer graced the stage, multiple black market items began to circulate on and off the stage, many attendees shouting out their bids. Almost as soon as the first Cybertronian item, a null ray, appeared on stage the room was illuminated by bright spotlights. Aggressive voices resounded from loudspeakers held by Officer Fanzone, “EVERYONE PUT YOUR HANDS UP! YOU ARE ALL UNDER ARREST FOR PARTICIPATING IN THE ILLEGAL SALE OF CYBERTRONIAN WEAPONRY.” Various Detroit P.D. officers burst into the venue, followed by none other than Optimus Prime, sending everyone into a panicked frenzy. 

Instead of heading for one of the exits like the other attendees, you made a beeline for the stage entrance, sneaking past the gaze of the officers. You made your way backstage and eventually found your way to the storage area where the illegal items were housed. As you attempted to find an escape route, you heard footsteps not far behind you. As you panicked, you spotted an unattended S.U.V./Jeep vehicle. You rush towards the vehicle and pull on the door handle and quickly climb inside, hoping to hide. 

To your horror, the exit doors of the building open up allowing a flood of Detroit P.D. officers inside. Suddenly the engine turns on, and the vehicle peels towards the exit, forcing the officers to dive out of the way. In the passenger seat, you start to freak out as you’re taken on a terrifying ride via a self-driving car. 

After what felt like a lifetime, the vehicle finally came to a stop after reaching a rural and isolated area away from the warehouse. The passenger door opens and you bolt out of the vehicle, adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

Suddenly the vehicle before you transformed into a massive robot. No, a Decepticon, you thought as you recognized the purple insignia on the robot. The Decepticon, Swindle, looked down at (Y/N), “Well, if this isn’t an unexpected situation we have here. That was a close call with the police and Optimus Prime of all things.” 

You were in shock, but you were also upset at this situation you were now in. You shouted up at Swindle, “Unexpected situation? You’re the one who kidnapped me!” 

Raising an optic ridge at (Y/N), Swindle leans downwards to get a closer look, “Well pardon the intrusion, but you were the one who tried to use me to hide. Not to mention, I graciously helped you escape. Otherwise you’d most likely be in a prison cell, hm?”

You froze, surprised by both the nerve and wit of this Decepticon, and the fact that you hadn’t been blasted to smithereens yet. Hesitantly you spoke, “Okay you have a point… Thank you?”

“HEYY, think of it as an investment towards a future partnership!” Swindle gestures towards you. “Now, what is a human like you doing attending a black market auction for Cybertronian weapons? You don’t look the type if I’m being honest,” he notices your attire lacked the usual ‘shady’ vibe most humans dawned at such criminal events. 

You were hesitant to divulge any of your personal information to a Decepticon, but you had no idea what he would do if you weren’t cooperative. “This was my first time going to one of these things. Normally I hire someone to attend for me, but my usual go-to was compromised so I had to cut ties and go myself.” 

Swindle is intrigued by your response, a smirk creeping across his face as he senses a potential opportunity before him to gain a human puppet *ahem* partner… He flashed an optimistic and charming smile, “You know, I’m actually looking for a partner myself. Perhaps you and I could… make a deal? Form a sort of… mutually beneficial relationship? Professionally speaking, of course.”

Being in a tight spot yourself, you entertained the idea. After all, when would you get such an opportunity again? A Cybertronian business partner could provide certain advantages which your competitors surely lacked. “And what exactly do you propose?” you asked curiously, wondering what sort of arrangement you’d be getting yourself into. 

“Nothing unreasonable or too risky. You’d be attending more of these events, and you’ll spot the merchandise. Relay what you see back to me, and I’ll tell you which items are worth the most. And depending if we’re short on funds, you let me in the back and we’ll slip out with the merchandise and be out of there before anyone knows what hit em.”

After weighing the pros and cons, you give your answer, “Decepticon, I think you have a deal” extending your hand towards him. 

Swindle struggles to keep his smile genuine as you agree, “The name’s Swindle, and you, my new business partner?”

“Y/N. I suppose this will be a rather interesting partnership,” you replied, a nervous smile on your face.  A smug look crossed Swindle’s faceplate before he transformed into his alt-mode and opened the door for you. A very interesting partnership… his thoughts were dubious to say the least as the two of you drove away.

[maladaptiv3]

i have found what you are like

I mean...how could I not?

Content: A nice lazy, rainy Sunday morning reading on the couch.

Warning: age gap, a little possessive, it’s kind of cheesy but I don’t really care! lol 

I started this piece a long time ago and I am just hitting a wall...so here is what I have so far. I don’t know if I will finish it. 

Word Count: 1174

*original content by maladaptiv3* please do not repost my work

(new screen name hey)

The soft patter of the rain on the roof was the only sound that filled the house for most of the day. The back door was open slightly and there was a now damp towel near the opening that had been placed to catch the bouncing raindrops from the patio outside.

Your Sundays were a ritual—his eyelashes on your cheek beckoning you to wake up, eyes still heavy with sleep as you lift your cup of coffee to your lips, arranging farmers market flowers as he finishes carrying in the rest of your treasures—but it was raining today. The rain was a welcomed distraction, it shifted your routine in a way that you had been craving. It had been a long while since you had enjoyed each other's silence. Silence seemed to be rare in his world. You only experienced pockets of it, stolen away from everyone's eyes. He woke you up that morning, pulling you into him, and melting into you, "It's raining, love." You hummed, "My favorite." The rain made the morning move in slow motion. There was no early morning coffee or having to find parking at the already getting crowded farmers market. "Let's have coffee in bed. I'll go make it," his smile was sweet. You scrunched up your nose, "I wanna watch the rain." He was amused, "Of course you do." 

Your mind wandered back to the current moment. Your back was against the arm of the couch and your legs were bent at the knee. A warm blanket was in your lap, covering one-half of you. You had a book in one hand and the other was running its fingers through his hair. He was settled between your thighs, slightly propped up on a throw pillow. His fingers were tracing lines on your shin as he turned the page of his book with the other. You mused, wondering how you had the privilege to live in this perfect moment. If you could bottle it, you would. His hand would occasionally ghost up your leg and settle on your thigh, his arm stretching slightly so he could grip it. You would slightly tug on his hair, playfully of course, "Shh...I'm reading." He would squeeze your thigh once more before going back to the words on his page, "I didn't say anything." He didn't have to say anything. This was a game you knew all too well. The rain was still falling outside and you wanted to bask in this feeling for as long as you could. The comfort of just merely touching each other was enough to keep you going for days. 

After a while, you heard him sigh. You put the business card posing as your bookmark back into your book, "Something on your mind?" He laid his book down flat on his chest, "You've been reading that book for years, you think you would have finished it by now." You rolled your eyes, "I've been finished. I just like to revisit it. It's one of my favorites." He sat up to face you, his legs crossed in front of him, "Well, what about it makes you revisit it?" You were astonished, "You're telling me that Mr. Booksnob himself has never read Jane Eyre? It's a classic." "Hey! I am not a book snob." "You kind of are." He took the book from your hands and examined the cover, "So, what is it about?" You took a minute to think, "It's about a homely governess who falls in love with the older man she's working for." His fingers were drumming against the book, "What's with you and older men?" You snatched the book back from him, "That's just what's on the surface. It's a story of painful love, independence, and feminism." He nodded, "Now, that makes more sense. Read me some." "Like what?" "Read me something that reminds you of me." You had it highlighted. It was a new quote you liked. The spine was not yet used to the continuous flipping to the page every time you pulled out your beloved copy. You licked your lips and cleared your throat a bit, "All my heart is yours, sir: it belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever." He blinked a few times and seemed to be entranced by the words you just spoke, "You belong to me?" You swallowed hard, "This book isn't about us." Your breathing was shallow as you waited for him to say something. His eyes were fixed on yours, "Do you belong to me?" You were quick to nod your head up and down, "Yes." He ghosted his lips over yours, "Good answer. Kind of anti-feminist, though?" You pressed your lips against his, "Is it?"

You pulled back, "Your turn to share. What are you reading?" He took his book from its place on the coffee table, "Poetry." You wiggle the thin green book out of his grip, "I've never really been a fan." His jaw dropped, "You? Miss I Buy A Book every time I leave the house, doesn't enjoy poetry?" "I guess not." He took his book back, "Well, it's only fair I read you something." You reached out trying to take the book from him, "Can I choose?" He clutched onto it, "Absolutely not." He began to flip through the pages, "You at least know who E.E. Cummings is, right?" You shook your head, almost offended, "Obviously." He found the page he was looking for, "I think you'll enjoy this one."

You pulled back, "Your turn to share. What are you reading?" He took his book from its place on the coffee table, "Poetry." You wiggle the thin green book out of his grip, "I've never really been a fan." His jaw dropped, "You? Miss I Buy A Book every time I leave the house, doesn't enjoy poetry?" "I guess not." He took his book back, "Well, it's only fair I read you something." You reached out trying to take the book from him, "Can I choose?" He clutched onto it, "Absolutely not." He began to flip through the pages, "You at least know who E.E. Cummings is, right?" You shook your head, almost offended, "Obviously." He found the page he was looking for, "I think you'll enjoy this one."

His lips parted and he set down the book:

i have found what you are like the rain,

      (Who feathers frightened fields with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields

easily the pale club of the wind and swirled justly souls of flower strike

the air in utterable coolness

deeds of green thrilling light                               with thinned newfragile yellows

                  lurch and.press

-in the woods              which                stutter                      and

                           sing

And the coolness of your smile is stirringofbirds between my arms;but i should rather than anything have(almost when hugeness will shut quietly)almost,                your kiss

You guys just stared at each other for a second. 

Your chest was tight and tears started to well in your eyes, "That was beautiful." He look worried and cupped your face with his hands, "No, no, no -- why are you crying?" 

Your chest was tight as you tried to keep the tears from welling in your eyes, "You memorized that?" He nodded and took your hands in his, "I find myself searching for it when I'm thinking of you. Sometimes I get asked what it's like to love you and I always tell them to read this poem. I never understood what Cummings meant when he wrote about someone being like rain until I fell in love with you." You just looked at him, your thumb brushing his, "I wouldn't believe that coming from anyone else, but for some reason, I believe it from you. I also think you kind of want to get laid, but I still believe it." 

[catt-nuevenor]

Story Setting - Peyton and Peidyn

"Best behaviour, alright?"

"Yes, Peyton/Peidyn," Lars and Louis/Leila drone.

"I mean it, no shenanigans, no fights. The pair of you should be setting a good example, not a cautionary tale."

My little one giggles from their spot on my lap as we watch on.

"I don't want to hear from Eylmer and Joyce that you've been less than perfect guests."

"Yes, Fæder/Módor."

Peyton/Peidyn sighs, a wry smile hidden behind their palm. "Off with the lot of you, before I change my mind."

My little one gives me a parting hug before accepting a piggyback from Louis/Leila.

"Be good!" I call after the three of them.

"We will!"

As the front door closes, and the yipping giggles and laughter filters in from outside, Peyton/Peidyn takes the seat beside mine, propping their chin up on the heel of their hand.

"Remind me, when was it that I adopted those two?"

I rest my hand on their shoulder, my fingers immediately finding stiffening muscle and tension. "About a week after they first walked through your door. They'll be fine."

Peyton/Peidyn huffs, then they smile. "Kicking the children out of the house for the night? For all the stress, it's worth it." They gather up the hand that rests on my shoulder, and brush their lips over my knuckles. "Shall we get started?"

Our meal is simple; vegetable stew with barley, freshly baked bread, and a quart of cider to share. Simple, and yet it is so much more than it has rights to be. We work together in a constant flow, our currents entwining then parting as we tease and encourage one another with small touches and glances. When Peyton/Peidyn asks me to taste the stew, they find an excuse to brush their thumb over my hip bone, their warm arm across my lower back, barely touching but still a pressure against my skin.

We eat at the table by candlelight, our faces smudged in shadow, our eyes aglow. Peyton/Peidyn sits beside me, as always, their arm skimming mine as they lift the spoon to their lips.

---

Extrovert

We leave the chores for the morning, stacking our things in the sink and brushing away any flour that clings to our clothes or hair.

"Should we change?" I ask.

"No, we'll pass Myrna's scrutiny." Peyton/Peidyn cups my jaw and kisses my cheek to prove it. "You could draped in a whole sack of flour and still be stunning."

I bat them playfully away. "Flatterer."

We leave the lodging house, hiding the key behind a loose brick in the wall for the others. The night is cool, but pleasant, the stars above twinkling down as we make our way across the Ash bridge and towards the thrum of music.

The dance has already spilled out into the market square, the musicians arranged upon the back of a hay-cart, the folk of the town a twirl below.

Peyton/Peidyn waves and nods to their cousins, and we both send our greetings to Ana/Abe and Erda when we spy them stood outside the shop.

"There's always a greater chance for injury when you mix drink with dancing," the old cunning woman had pronounced a few days ago. From first glance, it seems injury and accident have been avoided thus far. Long may that continue.

Peyton/Peidyn and I step up to the edge of the fray.

Panic flares within me when I feel their hand leave mine, but it is banished when I catch the gleam of their smile. Their locks of red and rust sweep low as they bow to me, their grey eyes gold in lantern light when they look up, and when they speak it is with the purr of storm and promise that makes my Feorh sore.

"Dance with me?"

And truly, what can I do, but let their tide carry me on?

---

Introvert

The night is ours, so we bask in it, in each other. Chores are sweetened by kisses, the washing by their arms around my waist, their breath upon my neck. When all is tidy, we sit before the fire, wrapped around one another, and share the warmth.

"This is enough," Peyton/Peidyn whispers.

"Hmm?"

"This. You, me, this." They tighten their embrace for a moment and kiss my neck. "It's enough, isn't it?"

"It is," I reply, pressing my lips to the hollow of their throat, their pulse rising to greet me as I linger. "It is."

---

Image courtesy of Annie Spratt on Unsplash

[casbeeminestiel]

I had a really fun time writing this one. I've got zero plan for where this month takes me, but much like Dean in this fic, I'm enjoying the ride.

This one is mildly spicy. I haven't quite worked up to a full M or E, so I'll go ahead and rate this one a T for now. Ask to tag!

Day 4: Wicked

Hunts are few and far between these days. With Chuck’s downfall came a few months with no paranormal activity, giving every hunter in the country a bit of a much needed break. Even though cases have begun to appear once more, Dean has realized that they are nowhere near the volume they were before they iced God. In fact, about half of the leads they chase these days turn out to be false.

Still, a job is a job. This is why, when a potential haunting pops up in Rhode Island, he decides to take the case. Dean shoots a quick text off to Cas. The angel is currently out doing “bonding activities” with Jack and Claire, who had shown up shortly after breakfast for a surprise visit. Dean shakes his head and wonders what they’re up to, knowing that bonding activities probably means at least one felony. 

From the looks of it, the spirit is not out for blood yet. Right now, it seems to be more of a nuisance for real estate agents. Whatever it is has chased out four potential buyers from an old house in Newport.

He raps on Sam’s door.

“Sammy, I’ve got something in New England. You and Eileen want to come along?”

He hears a muffled curse from inside Sam’s room, followed by a thump. Sam’s voice carries through the door.

“What is it?”

“A casper in Newport is shaking up the housing market.”

Sam opens the door, hair in complete disarray and a deeply skeptical look on his face.

“And you need my help for that?”

Dean sighs. “Tone down the bitchface, man. I don’t need your help, but I thought we could make it a family thing. Sue me.”

Sam unclenches and reaches a hand up to smooth down his diva hair. “Yeah, ok. Give me an hour to get ready.”

“Make it two. This thing ain’t urgent. No one will touch that house. Plus we’ve gotta give Cas and the kids time to clean up whatever situation they’re getting into right now.”

Sam laughs a little at that. “What, you don’t think they’re apple picking or something?”

“Not a chance.”

“Wanna bet ten bucks that Claire is somehow roping Jack into trouble and the kid doesn’t even realize it?”

“We both know I would lose that bet. Claire is evil.”

“She gets it from you,” Sam teases.

Dean will accept that. “I feel sorry for Cas.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Cas can hold his own. He also gets that from you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a bad influence on the guy,” Dean shrugs. “At least his music taste is better than yours. I don’t know where I went wrong with you, but you really put the hair in hair rock.”

Sam just squints at him for a moment, letting him sit with his own joke before straightening. “Right. Anyways, I’m going to tell Eileen the plan and get ready. Let me know when the others are all set to go.”

“You do that, bitch.”

“Whatever, jerk.”

………

Almost exactly two hours later, they’re all packed in Baby. Cas and Claire are in the front with Dean, and Sam, Eileen, and Jack are in the backseat. Claire has her own car of course, but it died unexpectedly in the driveway when she tried to start it.

“No I didn’t leave my light on, jackass,” had been the preemptive reply to Dean’s question. Claire scares him a little, but mostly she reminds him of himself in a not-totally-reassuring way.

As snarky as Claire is, she chooses to be a good sport and rides with them rather than calling AAA. Dean promises to fix her car when they get home from the case. Her one condition is that she gets to sit shotgun. Nobody wants to argue with her, including Sam.

They roll Northeastward as fast as Dean can go without getting pulled over, taking all the backroads they can to avoid major traffic. Dean has been on some truly long drives before, where the roads seemed to lead nowhere and the next gas station was easily one hundred miles away. He shudders, thinking of US 95 in Oregon. Talk about desolate.

But this one is shaping up to be good. He’s got all his favorite people in one vehicle, his favorite cassettes on deck, a nice and easy haunting to squash, and no big bad on the horizon. Hell, he even has money to burn on a nicer hotel for the night, and he will be using it.

Maybe I can get some alone time with Cas. 

He glances at Cas over Claire’s head where she has it buried in a book, only to find him watching Dean already. Dean smiles bashfully and hopes Cas can’t see the pleased flush rising to his face. Judging by the way his eyes light up though, he can.

This thing between them is largely responsible for the high he’s been riding for the past few days. It’s a wonderful development, truly, but it’s also very new. Dean wants to enjoy the honeymoon phase of their relationship just a little longer before they settle into things more. 

He knows, of course, that he’ll enjoy being with Cas just as much in ten years as he will in ten days, because it’s Cas, and he’s perfect even when he’s the most idiotic and infuriating son of a bitch alive. But he reserves the right to be horny and dumb about his partner when he’s in his prime.

So yeah, he’s booking two singles and one double for the night. 

Humming along the highway, lost in his own mildly solicitous thoughts, Dean doesn’t hear Sam at first when he pipes up from the back.

“Dean, are you listening?”

“Hm?” Dean very resolutely does not look at Cas right now. He especially doesn’t look at his lips. Nope, that would be a bad idea. He needs to pay attention to the road. 

“I said,” Sam starts imperiously, “that I was reading this article about regional dialect, and there was this link to a quiz at the bottom. It’s supposed to guess where you’re from based on your vocabulary. I think we should take turns taking the quiz.”

“Huh, alright. Lay it on me.”

Sam starts in on a series of questions, asking Dean how he pronounces different words and the terminology he uses for a variety of commonplace objects. The others in the car offer their own commentary, especially Claire.

“There’s no way people call a water fountain that.”

“Claire, you’re literally from the midwest. Have you never heard anyone refer to it like that?”

“I like that word,” Jack says, not looking up from his game.

“It is a fun word,” Eileen agrees. “Bubbler.”

“Sam, did it give you my social security number yet?”

Sam is frowning in the rearview, clearly puzzled. “Actually, it can’t seem to pinpoint your region. Your map is showing some similarity everywhere.”

Dean thinks on this for a moment before he gets it.

“Dude, we were raised on the road. You and I have picked up words from everywhere.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense. So we have generic dialects then?”

“Guess so.”

Soon, Claire demands to take the quiz, and is the first one who gets a fairly accurate location, unsurprisingly. She’s spent more of her life in the midwest than not. 

Cas thinks the quiz is a waste of time (“I don’t think they have enochian in their database, Dean.”), but he indulges his family anyway.

“Cas, the results are showing your location as somewhere around… Kansas.”

“I do spend most of my time in Kansas.” His tone is dirt dry, but Dean can tell he’s secretly amused by all of this dialect business.

“You’re a billion years old. Have a few years in Kansas really made that much of a difference?” Claire asks.

Cas tilts his head, meets Dean’s eyes with intention. “Perhaps.”

Oh, he’s flirting with you.

Dean swallows. Cas can definitely see that he’s blushing now. 

……… 

Sam seems to be down a dialect rabbit hole today, telling them facts about different regions and how they developed linguistically over time. By the time he reaches a few articles about New England, everyone's a little punch drunk and overtired. Dean is determined to make this drive in one go. The others can sleep if they want. He just needs a little coffee in him, and he’ll be able to make it to Cleveland before he switches off with Sam. 

“Get this. People in Massachusetts and Rhode Island emphasize things they really like as ‘wicked.’” 

Dean snorts, startling a half-asleep Claire from where she’s been nodding off against his shoulder. She glares at him, earning an apologetic grin.

Cas, who has been “resting his eyes” but is seemingly aware of this conversation, murmurs a request for an example from Sam. Dean wants to wrap him in a blanket so fucking bad right now.

“So uh, imagine you’re eating a good sandwich.”

“I don’t know what a good sandwich tastes like, Sam. I don’t need to eat.”

“It’s just a hypothetical.”

“I personally like the footlongs from Subway.”

“Gross, Dean.” Sam pulls a face.

“The more inches the better, right Cas?” He winks at the angel. The look he gets in return is so worth Sam’s disgusted noises from the back. Half-lidded eyes track lazy and hot over his frame from the passenger side. Dean finds his lips suddenly very dry.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Your face says otherwise, Sunshine.

“Anyways,” Sam coughs, “someone from New England might say the sandwich is wicked good or wicked awesome.”

“Doesn’t wicked have a negative connotation?”

“Normally, yes. But people make their own rules for this stuff, man.”

“After all this time on earth, humanity finds new ways to surprise me.”

“I’ll bet.” Sam chuckles.

“Hey Sam, what do they call a sandwich in New England?”

“They have a few terms for sandwiches. Subs, spukies, grinders-” Sam cringes, immediately knowing he messed up. “No, Dean. Don’t.”

“Grinder?”

“Please.”

“But Sammy-,”

“Stop.”

“I don’t even know her!”

Sam groans and buries his face in his hands. Dean for one is very pleased with himself. And hey, he even made Cas crack a smile.

“That was a wicked good joke, Dean.” Eileen, apparently not asleep, chimes in. 

“I’m here all night.”

“I don’t get it.” Jack is right behind Dean, so silent for the past hour that Dean forgot he doesn’t need sleep. Dean immediately does damage control to spare himself from Cas’ wrath.

But he’s hot when he’s mad.

Shut the fuck up, brain.

“I’ll explain it when you’re a little older, kid. Adult joke.”

“But physically I’m-,”

“Don’t care. You’re not old enough.”

“Dean!”

“Talk to your dad about it.” He means Cas, who does not look happy to be saddled with this conversation, but he forgets one important thing about Jack.

He is swiftly reminded.

“Which one?”

“The one who isn’t Lucifer, obviously.”

“You? I’m already talking to you.”

Dean gapes, just a little. He won’t get emotional about Jack seeing him as a father figure. He won’t.

Wait.

“Kid, you ain’t fooling me. You know I’m referring to Cas. Talk to him about it. He makes the rules.”

“Oh, but I was hoping you could override them.”

Dean’s mind is going down a very specific path regarding Cas and rules, so it takes him a second too long to catch up. Unfortunately for his overheated brain, Cas decides to intervene.

“Dean knows better than that.” There’s a suggestion in that rather confident statement that makes Dean go hot all over, the tips of his ears burning and his palms sweating. 

He really likes this, the back and forth routine they’ve got going on right now. They haven’t had sex yet, content for now to let things simmer while they get used to each other in this new capacity. They haven’t really talked about it either. There seems to be an understanding between them that they are both ready, and have been ready in some way for twelve years, but neither of them have made a move.

It feels less like first time nervousness and more like a game. It’s anticipation undercut with mutual responsibility and respect for each other. Cat and mouse, a delicate dance, etcetera. Bottom line is, Dean loves this, and he loves Cas even more. 

………

Sam takes the wheel in Ohio, and Dean passes out for a few hundred miles.

When he wakes up with a familiar crick in his neck, they’re well into Connecticut. The trees lining the freeway are a watercolor riot of red, yellow, and orange leaves and striking birch bark. He presses his palm against the window, feeling the chill seep into his hand from the pane. It must be early, then.

“Morning sleepyhead.” He’s greeted by a grinning Eileen, whose shoulder he has definitely not been drooling on this whole time. He knows immediately by the sing-songy cadence of her voice that she has a picture stored away for blackmail.

In the front seat, a ray of morning sun lights up Cas’ side profile as he appears to be deep in a discussion with Claire and Sam. Dean forgets all about his blackmail suspicions, breath caught in his chest and warmth percolating through his body at the sight of him.

It’s not even lust, is the craziest part. Obviously he feels desire too, but this is much bigger than that. Because for a moment, his sore neck and pins and needles and the other occupants of this car whom he cares deeply about all fade away when he simply looks at Cas. 

Goddamn, I want to wake up to see your face every day. 

He must’ve prayed it, because Cas turns to look at him with a smile so sweet, Dean swears his tooth begins to ache. 

Dean thinks, certainly not for the first or last time, that he might be dreaming. That Cas, grounding, charming, genuine, stubborn, perfect Cas couldn’t possibly be real. But when the angel winks like a dork and turns Dean’s insides into mush, what he does know is that what they have is too wicked damn awesome to ever let go.

[blue-flamed-phoenix]

Out of the woods - OUAT Peter Pan

Chapter 1 - Escape

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"GET BACK HERE, YOU UNGRATEFUL BRATS!!!"

Run. That's all we could do, just run and keep running as our psychotic insufferable father chased us through the eery enchanted forest in the dead of night. We had nothing but the clothes on our backs. Well, that and our backpacks that were stuffed with the essentials from home. As we sprinted threw the forrest, the dry leaves crunching under our feet, we can hear in the distance our fathers panting and heavy footfalls. "Keep running! I think we can lose him if we keep going for another 3 or 4 miles!" Jack shouted to the rest of us. I did glance over at him or look back behind us, I just kept my eyes locked on the landscape in front of me afraid that if I turned around our father would be right behind me.

"Jack! That may be a bit of a problem!" My younger brother Liam shouted as I saw in my peripheral vision him pointing to something in front of us. I focused my sight on in front of us and caught a glimpse of what was to come in about a mile or 2. It was a cliff. None the less none of us broke away from our sprint towards the cliff in fear of our father gaining on us. We have to think of something and fast. As we make it closer and closer to the cliff I finally glance to Sage who ran beside me with little Bailey in her arms. Bailey is the littlest sister of us all since she's only 2 years old she will most likely never remember our mother or the psychotic monster who is currently chasing us. Hopefully she won't remember any of the events that ensued tonight or recent events from the days before.

~~~~~~~FLASHBACK - 2 weeks ago - FLASHBACK~~~~~~~

As me and my siblings arrived home from the markets that our mother forced me to go too, we could suddenly hear the sound of smashing coming from the house. Then I heard it, a cry of distress. Not just any cry, Bailey's cry. Immediately I dashed up the stairs of the front porch ignoring my siblings that yelled after me. As I ran into the house I looked to my left into the lounge room to see a devastating sight.

The lounge room was trashed with glass everywhere and picture frames or whatever else were on the ground in a huge mess. I turned into the lounge room as my sight locked onto Bailey who was in none other then the devil himself's arms. Rick. My father or well used to be father. Now he's nothing but a psychotic monster. Rick stood in front of the fire place with a crying, distressed Bailey in one of his arms while in his other he had Sky, My mother in his other arm. In his hand was a gun that he held to my mother's temple.  "Mother!" I yelled as I went to lunge for them, knowing that the couch was what separated us and was about the only thing keeping me and Rick apart at that moment. 

"Mary go back outside!" my Mother screamed as Rick threw Bailey to the ground hard and yanked my Mother's hair back before repositioning his hands. one hand held the gun to her temple while he put his arms across her collar bones to keep her in place. "So the little brat came home." Rick said as he looked at me. "Leave her alone!" I screamed as both fear and a new found anger coursed threw my veins. "And what are you going to do, you're not a hero, you're just a weak, pathetic child." Rick said with a malicious smile on his face which was then accompanied with a vicious laugh. By this point I was shaking with anger and I even started growling. I clenched my jaw as I replied to him. "I can hold you off until help gets here." I said to which Rick chuckled. "I'd like to see you try." Rick teased as my mother tried to struggle out of his grip but again it was no use.

"Because as far as anyone else is concerned, you can't even shift yet. 2 years late, who knows maybe you aren't even a true werewolf, maybe your just a stupid half blood, not even a real fucking wolf." Rick sneered and I growled, my eyes glowing as a sort of warning. "Don't you dare insult my children!" My mother shouted as she then elongated her k9's, drew her head back and then brought her k9's down on my father's forearm. She bit into his arm with incredible force drawing blood that invokes a blood curdling scream came from my father.

By doing this Rick automatically let Sky go and in doing so my mother fell to the ground on her hands and knees. "You bitch!" He yelled as he then kicked my mother in the stomach harshly, flipping her onto her other side. She curled up into a fetal position and groaned as she gripped her stomach in pain. "Now, I should've done this along time ago." Rick said through gritted teeth as he raised the gun up to point at my forehead. Without a single fearful bone I looked at the gun that was aimed directly at me without even flinching. 

Because in the end, I was used to this. I was used to guns and violence. The sounds of gunshots and the blood curdling screaming and yells of those who were scared for their lives. "See you in hell, little brat!" Rick yelled and in a split second everything changed.

A gunshot echoed throughout the house and I stood frozen where I was, waiting for the bullet to hit me. But it never did, instead I heard a tumble, like something had fallen to the ground. As if everything suddenly went into slow motion, I turned my head slowly to look down, only to find my mother's body on the floor. What started out as a small dot of red soon seeped through her clothes and became a huge mess of crimson that started to pool around her abdomen. 

'He shot her, he actually shot her' those words echoed in my mind as I myself, fell to my knees next to my mother and grabbed her hand. I just held her hand in mine as I saw she was still conscious. As I saw this I dropped her hand and tried to apply pressure to her abdomen to hopefully stop the bleeding. Why wasn't she healing???? No, no it could be! A wolfsbane laced bullet. No!

As I continuously tried to stop the bleeding my mother began to speak. "It's ok Mary, it's ok." my mother said barely above a whisper. I shook my head profusely. "N-no, no it's not ok." I refused as I could barely keep myself together anymore. 

"Promise me you'll protect them? You'll look out for them?" my mother asked as she looked deep into my eyes. After I didn't respond and practically froze up she repeated herself again. "Promise me!" she yelled as she gripped my bicep and this time I nodded with sorrow. Then out of my peripheral vision I saw my father raise his gun again with gritted teeth, but before he could my mother intervened. She shot her hand out towards my father and suddenly a glow of light came out of her palm. This then sent my father flying into fireplace behind him and left him unconscious from the massive blow. Then out of nowhere she then held both my hands in hers as she chanted something. "What are you doing?" I asked as I saw her hands began to glow a bright white colour of light. This light traveled up her forearms and underneath her skin making veins and bones visible.

"Listen to me, Mary" My mother said. "Once every 500 years, a miracle occurs. One that only occurs amongst us werewolves. One that is said to close the divide between magic and werewolves." my mother started. "You know of the story of the grand alpha, correct?" My mother asked and I nodded. "well, Once every 500 years a new grand alpha is chosen amongst the many werewolf packs in the world to take the place of the old grand alpha." my mother continued 

"It is legend that the grand alpha not only held incredible strength and speed but also the power of pure light magic. Magic so pure that it could never be consumed my dark magic, ever. Any werewolf can be chosen to be the grand alpha as you know but there is a catch." My mother said as she started to seem out of breath and my heart beats only increased by this. "Yeah, I know. If one was destined to become the grand alpha then at 16 years old they would find there mate." I finished for her and she nodded. "Yes, but that's not all. when a new grand alpha finds their mate at 16 years old, they are then faced with a choice." my mother continued seemingly loosing her breath the more she talked.

"A choice that would be life changing." my mother said before coughing and struggling a little more to breath. "When the 25th grand alpha is chosen, it is said that the grand alpha's mate was a being of immense power, one that was filled with dark magic. The legend states that the alpha must either choose to fall into the abyss of dark magic or turn there mate into a werewolf whether it be against their will or not," my mother finished as she coughed violently.  

"Why are you telling me all this?" I asked as the glowing in my mother's hands stopped and some how transferred to me. "Because I believe either you or one of your siblings is the future grand alpha that we've all been waiting for." My mother said and my eyes widened. "Run Mary, take your siblings with you and run, run as fast as you can. Your father knows that one of you is destined to be the grand alpha. He wants to take the power all for himself. you must protect your siblings and follow the shadow." my mother said as I looked down for a moment not wanting to leave her but the I shot my head back up to look at her. 'Wait! did she say follow the shadow. Wait does she know about that shadow that had been visiting me for years now.' I thought as confusion set in on the features of my face and it seemed my mother understood too. 

"I've known since the first time the shadow visited you. He is aware of the dangers that surround you and your sibling." she said as I looked into her eyes in complete disbelief. "Now go, take what you need and leave. Hide and wait for the shadow to find you before your father does." She said as she then let go of my hands and pushed me away lightly. 

As I look at her a single tear falls down her face. "Go Mary. Go" She insisted as she pushed me away further. with a heavy head I nodded, swallowed thickly and stood up on weak knees. My breathing was shallow as I looked down at my mother who lay on the floor becoming weaker and weaker by the second then I heard a groan come from the fire place. I quickly ran over to where Bailey was, picked her up and immediately sprinted out of the house and too my other siblings. 

"We have to go! now!" I shouted as my siblings were outside with fearful looks as I quickly handed Bailey over to Sage. "Get the emergency supplies, we have to go now!" I said as I ran over to the shed down the side of the house my older brother Jack following after me and I yanked the door open. I grabbed two of the bags while my brother Jack grabbed the other two. "Where's mother?" Jack asked as we ran back to our siblings. I didn't answer his question and instead handed Sage one of the bags that I was carrying. "Mary! where's Mother?" Jack shouted and I stopped what I was doing and looked at him. 

"She's gone, our mother killed him, shot her because she tried to protect. We need to go before he gets out here to try and hurt us." I explained as I pointed to the truck that my mother owned. "We need to go!" I said as I ran towards the truck and opened the door for Sage to get in. she was not only carrying her backpack but also Bailey as well. Nonetheless she got into the truck and Liam followed right after her with a backpack in hand. I looked to where Jack was to see he stood frozen where we were before. 

"Jack come on! we have to go!" I shouted as I opened the drivers side door. The keys were tapped underneath the drivers seat where mum had placed them for emergencies. "Come back here you little assholes!" my father yelled as he stormed out of the house and down the front porch steps towards us. That seemed to shock Jack out of his little freeze up as he sprinted towards the truck. I got into the drivers seat and started the truck with the keys. Jack quickly got into the passenger seat meanwhile our father was going balistic outside the truck. I quickly stepped on the gas and we went zooming out our drive way and down the road. only then did I realise what I had just witnessed. Our father, he did it again. He turned us for his own selfish needs. I clenched my jaw at this, feeling so angry. First he did it to me and now he's done it to all of us.

~~~~~~~FLASHBACK - The End - FLASHBACK~~~~~~~

As we ran threw the forest, well that is until we reached the cliff. I looked below to see very sharp and pointy rocks with waves crashing into the every two seconds below the cliff. 'There's absolutely no way we can survive that jump.' I thought as I look to Jack our big brother for help. He seems to be out of ideas just like me as Liam starts to Panic. "He's coming! He's coming! What do we do!" Liam says his tone full of fear. We could all hear our father running threw the forest towards us angrily. "Shit, come on, where are you" I whispered as I looked up into the sky searching for the shadow. "come on, come on" I whispered as I searched and searched. 

Then I heard a voice. "Your hand. stick out the palm of your hand directly in front of you" I heard the voice say in a calm voice and so I did what it said. though it didn't seem that my siblings heard this voice but I did nonetheless. I reached my right hand out in front of me following the unknown voice's instructions. Then out of nowhere a ball of light shone through my palm and in front of us a portal opened up. My siblings seemed amazed at what was in front of us but that amazement was short lived as we all heard our father yelling for us, getting closer and closer. 

"Come on!" I yell as I jumped Without thinking twice into the portal, my siblings following right after me. As we went through the portal Sage and Liam were both screaming as we twisted and turned in all different directions before we were then spat out by the portal, landing on solid ground. As we all got through The portal, it immediately closed right behind us as we hit the solid ground with pain filled grunts. I was the first one to shoot up and observe our surroundings. "You ok?" Jack says sitting up. "Yeah" I answered back as I continued to look at our surroundings. What surprised me is how it's day time here but night time back where we were before. "Is everyone ok?" Jack asked as he looked to Sage and Liam. They both nodded simultaneously while Liam immediately started to look around more. "Shit where are we?" Liam asked standing up. "ok everyone stay calm." Jack says as he gets up. "I'm sure we can figure out where we are." Jack reasoned.

[starlingsrps]

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: roselyn eloise anson clark REASONING: anson is her mother's maiden name and that's a whole thing but otherwise no, not really NICKNAME(S): ro or rose is fine if you know her well but rosie is off the table completely. PREFERRED NAME(S): roselyn or miss clark. BIRTH DATE: september 3 AGE: twenty eight ZODIAC: virgo sun/rising/venus, scorpio moon. she has many feelings but she's going to organize them away. GENDER: female PRONOUNS: she/her SEXUAL ORIENTATION: straight on thin ice NATIONALITY: american CURRENT LOCATION: new york LIVING CONDITIONS: she moved from the family base on 83rd when her father remarried and this would sound like someone finally moving out on their own to their first apartment but her first apartment is a unit in the dakota she inherited from her great-aunt sabrina so. it's not exactly a studio apartment.

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: palm beach, fl. never remind roselyn that she isn't technically born and bred new york. she blames her mother deciding that the beach house was a much better place to give birth. HOMETOWN: new york. she'll never leave. SOCIAL CLASS: well there's old money and then there's old as balls money and that's roselyn. EDUCATION LEVEL: yale for her undergraduate and an mba from nyu. she's much smarter and sharper than she's ever given credit for and it is finally starting to bother her. FATHER: stephen clark, 57 MOTHER: gale anson, 55 SIBLING(S): not direct but she was recently presented with a step brother named sterling. sterling is eighteen months old and if you think she can't have a sibling rival with a baby, you're a fool. RELATIONSHIP WITH FAMILY: up until three years ago, roselyn would have said that she was very close to both of her parents and closest to her father. and then he had a post heart attack crisis and filed for divorce to marry a former saks fifth avenue sales associate named sophie. roselyn sided with her mother who sided with her divorce attorney to get a crazy good settlement and now she feels like she barely has parents at all. her father has sophie and sterling (gag) and her mother moved to palm beach. she's finally talking to her father again but it's still through his assistant 50% of the time. BIRTH ORDER: only as far as she's concerned. CHILDREN: absolutely not. PET(S): she'd kind of like to get a cat but she's not married to the idea yet. OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: sophie clark, 32, step mother. yes she knows how close she and her stepmother are in age. she doesn't want to think about that. PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: extended flirtations with any guy in her age range on the social register, a brief engagement with teddy york that she knew was a terrible idea but her pride being bruised pushes her to make some pretty awful decisions. she's been dumped once and that was by teddy and no, she did not take it well. ARRESTS?: absolutely not. PRISON TIME?: besides, people like her don't go to prison, come on.

OCCUPATION & INCOME

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: the family trust SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: she's very good at the stock market though. CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB?: she doesn't have a job exactly but she keeps herself busy. she's on a few boards and recently joined the american ballet theater guild. she was shadowing her father at singer but ever since things iced over between them in the past three years, that's happening less and less. he's going to start grooming sterling for it when he gains object permanence, she just knows it. PAST JOB(S): no. SPENDING HABITS: reasonable but reasonable in a 1% way. she'll take regular ubers instead of uber black. MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: she has a very large collection of Things, many of which cost a lot of fuckin money. her gown from the crillon ball and some of the jewelry she's inherited from her mother's side of the family are up there for monetary but she's also a soft bitch who still has her stuffed rabbit from childhood.

SKILLS & ABILITIES

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: SPEED: a fast walker but not too speedy. INTELLIGENCE: very - she went to some of the best schools in the world and would have considered a waste to not learn as much as she can. she has good instincts for business and it kills her that she's being replaced by a BABY WHO CAN'T EVEN COUNT. ACCURACY: fine AGILITY: fine STAMINA: depends. she can smile and be nice at society events but she also has limits. when she's done, she's done and she's going home. luckily no one is hovering on her shoulder to tell her that's rude anymore. TEAMWORK: it's best if she's in charge but she's very good at listening to others. smaller groups though. TALENTS: poised and hard working - if she knows what she wants, she'll find or make a way to get it done. SHORTCOMINGS: poised and confident can very easily turn into being unapproachable and she definitely uses that as a shield. LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, a little conversational french and mandarin. DRIVE?: in theory. she's very rusty. JUMP-STAR A CAR?: no. probably could figure it out with instructions. CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: see above. RIDE A BICYCLE?: yes but better acquainted with a spin bike. SWIM?: yes PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: nah PLAY CHESS?: yes and well. a game where the idea is to think ahead in order to best your competition? perfect. BRAID HAIR?: yes. TIE A TIE?: nope.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: jessica alexander EYE COLOR: blue HAIR COLOR: light brown HAIR TYPE/STYLE: long and swishy shiny. it's very good hair and she's vain about it. GLASSES/CONTACTS?: nah DOMINANT HAND: left HEIGHT: 5'6 BUILD: lean and toned. EXERCISE HABITS: she does work out because she likes the discipline of it. she danced as a kid but quit as a teenager and still enjoys a barre class now and then. SKIN TONE: fair TATTOOS: nope. PIERCINGS: ears, two holes in one ear. she doesn't know why she did it either. MARKS/SCARS: some moles and such, no real big scars. USUAL EXPRESSION: resting bitch face. CLOTHING STYLE: classic preppy, occasionally with a fun accessory or silhouette but she's a ralph lauren bitch. JEWELRY: tasteful, always. ALLERGIES: peanuts. DIET: whatever. she's eating before an event every single time unless she knows the catering is good - absolutely not worth it half the time. PHYSICAL AILMENTS: nah

PSYCHOLOGY

MORAL ALIGNMENT: lawful neutral TEMPERAMENT: melancholic ELEMENT: air MBTI TYPE: ISFJ MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: bad bitches got bad anxiety. SOCIABILITY: roselyn is very charming and excellent with people but she also really enjoys when it's time to go home. EMOTIONAL STABILITY: steady as hell because ladies simply don't make scenes but she's cruising for a crash. PHOBIA(S): she recently read empty mansions and frankly that. that's it. DRUG USE: she keeps a nip of weed around because it's 2024 for god's sake but she doesn't partake often or with others. ALCOHOL USE: socially, makes an excellent gin martini. PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: not personally.

MANNERISMS SPEECH STYLE: low and a little husky, definitely uses "summer" as a verb. ACCENT: slightly mid-atlantic old money but not excessively so. QUIRKS: she cleans her own apartment - it's her thinking time and she really doesn't care to have """"staff""". she can cook and clean for herself just fine. is this quirky? not really but in her little echelon it sure as hell is. HOBBIES: she likes to go to a museum a week. she's been to all of them so far so she's on round two and three with most and the guggenheim is her favorite. she studied business and has a business brain but she likes pretty things. HABITS: meetings and socializing. she takes it all seriously and never shows up to shit unprepared. does this mean she'll survey a friend's instagram if they haven't spoken for awhile and are getting a drink? sure does it's called research. NERVOUS TICKS: sighing, fussing with her handbag. roselyn's sighs carry the weight of the entire world. DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: controlling her own narrative and making herself happy. POSITIVE TRAITS: clever, charming, hardworking, observant, passionate NEGATIVE TRAITS: perfectionist, competitive, judgmental, blunt, intense SENSE OF HUMOR: bone dry. DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: seldom publicly, mouth like a sailor privately.

FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: her museum time and walks. she spent a lot of time growing up and in her twenties doing everything she was """supposed""" to be doing and now she just wants to do what she wants. ANIMAL: cats BEVERAGE: iced coffee for all seasons BOOK: COLOR: blue DESIGNER: ralph lauren and oscar de la renta. she can't stand flashy shit. FOOD: pizza. anything from a dollar slice to some shit that's got caviar on it. all pizza is good pizza. FLOWER: white roses GEM: emeralds HOLIDAY: summer. newport. the hamptons are getting tacky. MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: walk or uber. MOVIE: you've got mail SONG: "heart of glass" and "karma" SCENERY: the view of the park from her balcony and the ocean SCENT: amber, wood polish, oranges SPORT: nah. not even going to pretend she cares. SPORTS TEAM: nah. TELEVISION SHOW: completely and unironically gossip girl. baby roselyn loved blair waldorf and yeah, you can tell. WEATHER: either a brisk fall day or boiling sunny summer. no in-between. VACATION DESTINATION: the amalfi coast

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: long term, she would like a family and all that but for the now, it's mostly just figuring out what makes her happy. GREATEST FEAR: never being or doing anything more than right now. it's fine for right now but if she isn't building or growing, then what the hell is it for? MOST AT EASE WHEN: in control of a situation LEAST AT EASE WHEN: when things that she should be able to fix cannot be fixed by her alone. rude. WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: welp. she's been pretty publicly embarrassed (in her social circle) twice which was pretty shit. her parents divorce was pretty shit. so she doesn't think it can get worse. BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: she hasn't done much really which gets her. she was a debutante at the crillon ball which is a really big deal but that was also ten years ago and that's because of her last name. being proud of her education feels like something she's supposed to be past at this point so she doesn't know! accepting ideas! BIGGEST REGRET: she's just trying to be philosophical and say that she has no regrets because regretting one thing means regretting everything but going along with her mother's batshit idea to marry her off to teddy york to take the heat off of her during the divorce? woof. BIGGEST SECRET: she's much softer than she lets people think.

[moonblossom-bunny]

Been stuck with an Oswald the lucky rabbit AU idea for the last week now and I figured I'd share the unrefined layout of this thing here.

I call this AU the 'Ozzie's multiverse diner AU'. (Might workshop that name tho)

It takes place in a Toons are actors/House of mouse like setting.

Disney still got Oswald's rights back in 2007. Everything he was in irl happened as well.

But over the next decade the studio hasn't asked him to be part of big projects like Epic Mickey and he realizes he's only being used for merch bc he has a marketable face and not much else.

Kind of bitter about that and knowing he's in the public domain anyway, Oswald decides it's time for a career change. That he was promised a show and that it got canned is actually the deciding factor with this.

No more hoping to be in the limelight for two seconds tops and waiting for another ten years until he's asked to be in a project.

He can't really retire either bc he has a family to look after. So with the funds he has, he manages to buy and renovate an 50's styled diner and turns it into Ozzie's.

------

. Oswald is the chef/fry cook as well as the owner.

. Although he used to love being in the spotlight, all the empty promises the studio made him has turned him away from that. So he rarely leaves the kitchen of the diner.

. He does interact with patrons, but mostly around opening and closing time, or if they end up ordering something insane and off menu. He gets currious usually about who tends to have such a liking to weird food combos.

. He actually adores it when he can get creative with his dishes and patrons order something wild. It makes his whole day.

. Ortensia is there too of course. She is the head waitress and the offers advice and an listening ear to those who need it.

. Two of their eldest children help her out most of the time too, when they are not busy with their own work or school.

. Oswald and Ortensia don't have 420 bunny children of their own in this AU. Instead they have 13 and the bunny children used for the Epic Mickey games were 25 or so "extras" who tend to look alike at their young age. Making it seem there were a lot of them in the games.

. Both of them attempted to adopt them as their own though, but studio meddling prevented them from doing so.

. Speaking of studio and company meddling. Ozzie's is located across the street from the now boarded up and unused House of Mouse previously run by Mickey. The building still stands unused because the company no longer saw profit it letting Mickey keep the place, even though he really wanted to.

. Oswald is very determined to not have the same thing happen to his diner.

.That's why he's opening his doors to everyone and not exclusively characters from Disney.

.Characters from videogames, comic, other cartoons etc. All are welcome at Ozzie's even if they don't feel welcome anywhere else. (Hence the multiverse part of the AU)

.That doesn't mean the diner is currently a big hit yet. Since it's located in a more quiet part of town.

. The diner also has a downstairs bar/nightclub hidden away. Dusty remains left from the prohibition years.

.Ozzie's doesn't have a liqor license atm though, but Mickey has expressed a willingness towards reopening it and turning it into a bar of sorts, but so far Oswald isn't on board with the idea yet.

That's all I have so far.

Haven't worked on an AU in a long time, but hoping to expand on this in the near future.

[inkofamethyst]

May 23, 2023

I’ve found a cute little apartment that suits what I’m looking for, and I’m in the final stages of submitting an application for it.  And I know it’s not the absolute best option (tiny kitchen, weird flooring), but it fits the budget, the location, and the most basic of amenities that I’m looking for, plus getting to June with the piece of mind that I wouldn’t be homeless this fall... suffice to say I’m hoping praying it works out.  I’ve got a lot of nervous energy right now because of it, but I also have a bit of a good feeling, I think.  The housing market there is a beast, but I’ve heard repeatedly that everyone finds something eventually, so I’m counting on that. 

Part of me wants to learn how to party, how to flirt, how to just let go for a little bit.  But I am unfortunately too full of worries, too rigid, too afraid.

You know that Star Trek quote, “Do not mistake my composure for ease”?  Yeah, that.

I’m looking forward to the night on the town (we’ve set a date!!!!!), but I don’t even think I have good clubbing clothes.  I mean going to the formal earlier this semester with my photo-friend was nice, I guess, but I don’t really dance or drink (though dessert wines ain’t bad, and I’ve tasted a fruity wine I liked, but I’ve still yet to find a cocktail I really enjoyed).  I’m okay being the mom friend, I think.  The friend who watches over people’s bags while they do the roller coaster.  The friend who helps clean up after a party.  The friend who observes. [edit: I think this just means I’m an introvert actually lol]

Anyway, speaking of Star Trek, I was at first really critical of (or maybe confused by) people who don’t like Picard (the show), who say it tarnished the reputation of their favorite captain, of their comfort show.  I, personally, felt as though the show added an additional dimension to my favorite captain and the Star Trek world as a whole.  But I think I’m beginning to at least understand their position.  Gene Roddenberry designed Star Trek Starfleet as a utopia where all of humanity’s current issues have been resolved and we can devote ourselves to arts, humanities, passions, exploration.  Picard (and Discovery, from what I’ve heard) deviates from that ideal.  As much as I love the idea of Star Trek’s utopia, I’ve never been entirely convinced that we could do away with vices like greed within four hundred years or so, and I was very much aware of how the interspecies conflicts were not entirely absent.  Space was still a dangerous place, politically, with the Klingons and the Romulans and whoever else.  So seeing that element of danger explicitly was a positive for me, though I can understand how that type of content may not be what older ST fans turn to the franchise for (not to mention how they decry women in power on the newer shows, as if we’ve learned nothing since having Black, White, and Asian senior crew members in TOS (but old fans not recognizing their hypocrisy over how the current ST series confront modern social issues is an old argument that I’ve seen time and time again and doesn’t need repeating)).  Maybe Picard does deviate from Roddenberry’s original vision.   And that may be unwelcome for some.  And that’s okay.  I would go so far as to say that the target audiences are a little different.  Which is also okay.

I’ve been watching season three with my parents, and while the beginning was dreadfully slow, it’s started to pick up :)

Today I’m thankful that... my mom hasn’t come down too harshly on me for my room being a mess (yet).  I’ve almost entirely moved out of my apartment, and I’ve stuffed everything into my teenage bedroom, and I haven’t unpacked it yet because I’m pretty sure most of it will just be going with me when I move out again, and I’m not entirely sure how to handle the two-and-a-half-month interim.  I’m thinking about developing a capsule-ish wardrobe for the summer and sticking the other items into storage bins, ready for the move.  While I’m glad my mom hasn’t chastised me yet, I’m certainly feeling the negative mental effects of a messy room (seriously, it’s horrific in here).  I just need to come through here with dead eyes and a trash bag.  Maybe two or three (or four or five) trash bags.

[kmrealtygroup]

The Number One Mistake Sellers Are Making: Overpricing Their House

In today’s housing market, many sellers are making a critical mistake: overpricing their houses. This common error can lead to a home sitting on the market for a long time without any offers. And when that happens, the homeowner may have to drop their asking price to try to re-ignite buyer interest.

Data from Realtor.com shows the number of homeowners realizing this mistake and doing a price reduction is climbing (see graph below):

If you’re thinking about making a move yourself, here’s what you need to know. The best way to avoid making a costly mistake is to work with a trusted real estate agent to find the right price. Here’s a look at what’s at stake if you don’t.

Not Paying Attention To Current Market Conditions

Understanding current market conditions is key to accurate pricing. You don’t want to set your asking price based on what happened during the pandemic. The market has moderated a lot since then, so it’s far better to align your price with today’s reality.

Real estate agents stay updated on market trends and how they impact the pricing strategy for your house.

Pricing It Based on What You Want To Make (Not What It’s Worth)

Another misstep is pricing it based on what you want to make on the sale, and not necessarily current market value. You may see other homes in your neighborhood selling for top dollar and assume yours can do the same. But you may not be considering differences in size, condition, and features. For example, maybe that other house is waterfront or has a finished basement. To sum it up, Bankrate explains:

“How do you find that sweet spot of pricing for profit but not overpricing? The expertise of your agent can be truly valuable here. A knowledgeable agent will understand fair market value in your area, how much your house is worth and how much you might reasonably expect to get for it in the current market.”

An agent will do a comparative market analysis (CMA) to make sure your house is compared with truly similar properties to get an accurate look at how it should be priced.

Pricing High to Leave Room for Negotiation

Another common, yet misguided strategy is to price your house high on purpose, so you have more room to negotiate down during the sale. But this can backfire. A price that seems too high often deters potential buyers from even considering the home. So rather than leaving room for negotiation, what you’ll actually be doing is turning buyers away. U.S. News Real Estate explains:

“You want to sell your house for top dollar, but be realistic about the value of the property and how buyers will see it. If you’ve overpriced your home, chances are you’ll eventually need to lower the number, but the peak period of activity that a new listing experiences is already gone.”

An agent can help you set a fair price that attracts buyers and encourages more competitive offers.

Bottom Line

Overpricing your home can have serious consequences. A knowledgeable real estate agent brings an objective perspective, in-depth market knowledge, and a strategic approach to pricing.

Let’s connect with KM Realty Group LLC, Chicago, Illinois, so you can avoid making a pricing mistake that’ll cost you.

[nsrealestate]

The Number One Mistake Sellers Are Making: Overpricing Their House

In today's housing market, many sellers are making a critical mistake: overpricing their houses. This common error can lead to a home sitting on the market for a long time without any offers. And when that happens, the homeowner may have to drop their asking price to try to re-ignite buyer interest.

Data from Realtor.com shows the number of homeowners realizing this mistake and doing a price reduction is climbing (see graph below):

If you’re thinking about making a move yourself, here’s what you need to know. The best way to avoid making a costly mistake is to work with a trusted real estate agent to find the right price. Here’s a look at what’s at stake if you don’t.

Not Paying Attention To Current Market Conditions

Understanding current market conditions is key to accurate pricing. You don’t want to set your asking price based on what happened during the pandemic. The market has moderated a lot since then, so it’s far better to align your price with today’s reality.

Real estate agents stay updated on market trends and how they impact the pricing strategy for your house.

Pricing It Based on What You Want To Make (Not What It’s Worth)

Another misstep is pricing it based on what you want to make on the sale, and not necessarily current market value. You may see other homes in your neighborhood selling for top dollar and assume yours can do the same. But you may not be considering differences in size, condition, and features. For example, maybe that other house is waterfront or has a finished basement. To sum it up, Bankrate explains:

“How do you find that sweet spot of pricing for profit but not overpricing? The expertise of your agent can be truly valuable here. A knowledgeable agent will understand fair market value in your area, how much your house is worth and how much you might reasonably expect to get for it in the current market.”

An agent will do a comparative market analysis (CMA) to make sure your house is compared with truly similar properties to get an accurate look at how it should be priced.

Pricing High to Leave Room for Negotiation

Another common, yet misguided strategy is to price your house high on purpose, so you have more room to negotiate down during the sale. But this can backfire. A price that seems too high often deters potential buyers from even considering the home. So rather than leaving room for negotiation, what you’ll actually be doing is turning buyers away. U.S. News Real Estate explains:

“You want to sell your house for top dollar, but be realistic about the value of the property and how buyers will see it. If you've overpriced your home, chances are you'll eventually need to lower the number, but the peak period of activity that a new listing experiences is already gone.”

An agent can help you set a fair price that attracts buyers and encourages more competitive offers.

Bottom Line

Overpricing your home can have serious consequences. A knowledgeable real estate agent brings an objective perspective, in-depth market knowledge, and a strategic approach to pricing.

Let’s connect so you can avoid making a pricing mistake that’ll cost you.

[thelistingteammiami]

The Number One Mistake Sellers Are Making: Overpricing Their House

The Number One Mistake Sellers Are Making: Overpricing Their House

In today's housing market, many sellers are making a critical mistake: overpricing their houses. This common error can lead to a home sitting on the market for a long time without any offers. And when that happens, the homeowner may have to drop their asking price to try to re-ignite buyer interest.

Data from Realtor.com shows the number of homeowners realizing this mistake and doing a price reduction is climbing (see graph below):

If you’re thinking about making a move yourself, here’s what you need to know. The best way to avoid making a costly mistake is to work with a trusted real estate agent to find the right price. Here’s a look at what’s at stake if you don’t.

Not Paying Attention To Current Market Conditions

Understanding current market conditions is key to accurate pricing. You don’t want to set your asking price based on what happened during the pandemic. The market has moderated a lot since then, so it’s far better to align your price with today’s reality.

Real estate agents stay updated on market trends and how they impact the pricing strategy for your house.

Pricing It Based on What You Want To Make (Not What It’s Worth)

Another misstep is pricing it based on what you want to make on the sale, and not necessarily current market value. You may see other homes in your neighborhood selling for top dollar and assume yours can do the same. But you may not be considering differences in size, condition, and features. For example, maybe that other house is waterfront or has a finished basement. To sum it up, Bankrate explains:

“How do you find that sweet spot of pricing for profit but not overpricing? The expertise of your agent can be truly valuable here. A knowledgeable agent will understand fair market value in your area, how much your house is worth and how much you might reasonably expect to get for it in the current market.”

An agent will do a comparative market analysis (CMA) to make sure your house is compared with truly similar properties to get an accurate look at how it should be priced.

Pricing High to Leave Room for Negotiation

Another common, yet misguided strategy is to price your house high on purpose, so you have more room to negotiate down during the sale. But this can backfire. A price that seems too high often deters potential buyers from even considering the home. So rather than leaving room for negotiation, what you’ll actually be doing is turning buyers away. U.S. News Real Estate explains:

“You want to sell your house for top dollar, but be realistic about the value of the property and how buyers will see it. If you've overpriced your home, chances are you'll eventually need to lower the number, but the peak period of activity that a new listing experiences is already gone.”

An agent can help you set a fair price that attracts buyers and encourages more competitive offers.

Bottom Line

Overpricing your home can have serious consequences. A knowledgeable real estate agent brings an objective perspective, in-depth market knowledge, and a strategic approach to pricing.

Let’s connect so you can avoid making a pricing mistake that’ll cost you.

[saratravel]

Hey! It's Rīga!

Rīga is the capital city of Latvia, and my 3rd capital of this trip (of FIVE, holy moly). I'm really racking up my streak of "country captials I've visited before I've visited my own country's capital" 🤐 I think I'm up to seven.... and now I think of it, I haven't been to any of the capitals on my home continent, even- I only saw Guadalajara, Mexico and Vancouver, Canada 🫣🫣 Oh well, future trips for future Sara.

Rīga has a really different history to all the places I've visited so far. As it was under Germany for a long time, much of its Old Town was owned by Germans. Then, before the Nazis came in, they told those Germans it may be a good time to leave the area, so they just up and left. The buildings that stayed were all empty and eventually became random stuff around town, so there's a lot of bars, clubs, tattoo shops, etc, etc, right in the Old Town area. Additionally, there's not too many locals living in Old Town, so it's pretty much all tourists.

The buildings, while gorgeous, are all post WWII reconstructions made throughout the 20th century all the way up to 1999 reconstruction of the House of the Blackheads, which was historically (in the 15th century) where all the young bachelorsbstayed as they were learning their business trades and were generally being ruffians.

In fact, it is said that the first decorated Christmas tree came from the Brotherhood of the Blackheads guild after they got so wasted on Christmas that they ended up putting food in the trees. The magic of Christmas, truly.

Here's some pics from around Old Town.

These next buildings are the Three Brothers, which was another example of the 1950s Soviet reconstruction of older architecture styles. The facades represent three different types of architecture that were used in various points of history there. It currently houses the State Inspection for Heritage Protection and the Latvian Architecture Museum. The guide joked that the first thing they do when someone says they want to restore a historical piece of land is take them outside, point to their own building, and instruct them not to do that.

Here is an example of a building that has not been restored yet. It is very expensive to do so accurately to preserve the history (and not get UNESCO status taken away) so some stand like this today.

Due to its pretty European reconstructed buildings, Rīga has been used as a filming spot for a number of movies and shows. The one I learned about on this tour was the Soviet version of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson from 1979. It was very popular in the USSR and even got its approval from the Doyle estate for its accurate characterization of Holmes. Rīga was used to film Baker Street. Close enough, I guess. Here's the show (first episode at least is available on YouTube with English subtitles) and the picture of the street I took today. I watched about a third of the first episode over lunch, and I gotta say it is really quite good. The character dynamic between Holmes and Watson is excellent. I plan on watching as much as I can find when I get home.

I learned about the history of the Rīga Old Town square, which is famous for its Christmas Market during the opposite side of the year cycle. It was created by a Latvian dictator, Karlīs Umanis, who really just wanted a space to stand and watch military demonstrations, so he demanded the destruction of 90% of Old Town in the interwar period. However, only 25% of it was taken down when WWII started and interrupted the project.

Anyway, that's all well and interesting, but the wildest part about this is that the Latvian dictator graduated from the UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA?? HUH??

Turns out, he fled the Soviets at one point, studied agriculture in Nebraska, and then later used that degree to get him a job as dictator of Latvia. Who'd have thunk.

He, of course, got beaten out by the Soviets and was shipped off to somewhere as a prisoner. He died, and no one really knows where his grave is.

After the tour, I grabbed a coffee, bought some postcards, and walked in the rain back to my hotel. I had checked the weather before I left so I had my raincoat on me. Still, my socks, shoes, and pants got pretty wet, so I took a while to dry off and eat lunch in my hotel room before the final excursion. Around 2, I headed in the opposite direction to a Saturday market in Kalnciema quarter, a suburb of Rīga. I meant to stay a while, maybe buy a bracelet and snack on some stuff, but I quickly found an upcycled top that called to me and I blew more money than I intended all at once so I ran quickly back to the hotel with my prize and nothing else to keep myself from bleeding dry.

I am now the proud owner of this funky oversized top about cowboys in Arizona, stitched together by a women in Latvia 😂😂 it's so stinking cute and the woman and I chatted about Arizona, the Baltics, amd upcycled clothes (I was wearing my upcycled flannel from the Tempe thrift shop, Rocket A GoGo). It was a great time!

[hotgirlmythology]

Hayley, proponent of grand maritime theft

I have decided to make a bio for another of the characters from the lime house universe.

History thus far:

Despite her current depressing life in the greatest britain (as opposed to lesser britain, also called Sealand), Hayley was never really built for such dismal climes. Born in sunny southern California and with a childhood consisting mostly of sand and shopping malls, she would seem for all the world like the type of girl to graduate college with a degree in communications and go into online influencing, marketing perhaps. Of course, life is never so cut and dry, and the economic situation of America didn't help. Because the government and military were in the process of organising Operation New Leaf (the Octavia invasion), they didn't really care how much debt the country got into, as the plan was that it would all be swept away. Thus it became a period of insane subsidies and income for all, the people in power trying very hard to make people like them enough that when the army started running around blowing things up the people wouldn't revolt. Shopping malls came back with a vengeance, people with more money than they knew what to do with spent their nights trawling the wharfs and towns, clubbing til the waves got high enough for a swim and a surf - using the expensive new government floodlights. Nobody knew quite where the money was coming from, but for new adult Hayley this was paradise. Wandering the coastline with her gang and falling into situations that looking back she cringes upon eventually led her to an even more challenging prospect. Hayley likes to be challenged by things (one of the reasons she is intensely bored in westminster), and stealing yachts... that was a challenge. Sure she had stolen bikes, wallets, keys before, but it just stopped being interesting after a while. Find someone strolling the beach or in a quiet corner, talk them up, feel up where the most likely score was and then flick it out while canoodling. Most people she got them from were too drunk to remember her face anyway. You could not, however, canoodle with a boat.

Hayley therefore took up ship-boarding. You got them all the time, newly wealthy middle-managers high off the government-subsidised income blowing it all on a fancy looking boat. A wiser person would not be so stupid as to let Hayley and two of her friends onto his boat, so she never bit off more than she could chew. She was always good in that way, possessed of the rare instinct of when to fuck off. She had no trouble at all finding marks though, men whose eyes got about as far up her body as her bikini and stopped, drunkards laughing in the night and calling them up from where they lazily floated around the boat to take a drink. After all, why wouldn't you invite three hot women with razor sharp diving knives and knuckledusters onto your boat. Truly, more money automatically makes you wiser. Once on the boat and after securing any guns on board it was fairly easy to either intimidate or surreptitiously steal keys from the owners before dumping them into the sea with a life buoy.

After looting the boats they were usually either cleaned and dumped or sold. Hayley's new wealth went mostly into an offshore account or on paying off by lump sum a highly expensive and yet totally irrelevant college degree. By this point she was very comfortable and frankly did not even need the degree anymore (hers was in psychology, and as it should be clear to anyone who has read this, she did not have the patience for risk assessments or ethical analyses). She instead planned to slot neatly into a management role in a front company owned by someone who owed her a favour (several extremely large favours) and enjoy a respectable salary doing a disrespectable job.

In one of the government's greatest acts of secrecy, Operation New Leaf managed to start without any leaks reaching the press. Helicopters bearing the new "Octavia" flag dropped off soldiers across the country, who made a big show of shooting and blowing up buildings before taking the reigning party hostage and declaring their new nation. Once people realised that they were not going to get shot they mostly went back to normal, but the sham martial law that was declared caused Hayley to get caught wandering down the street with a stolen wallet in her handbag. Thus she made a run for it and stowed away on a cargo ship bound for Britain. By bribing and knowing roughly how a ship of such size operated she managed to stay as an engine cleaner until she could hop on a lifeboat and sneak off towards the coast.

She went the wrong way.

Ending up in france was not quite the end of the world, as she had taken french in school. She hitchhiked to paris, only needing to menace one touchy driver with her knife, and arrived in the centre with what mattered most - her card with the offshore account. It still worked, so clearly her identity hadn't been discovered, and she began a long sojourn as a maid working primarily in english-speaking hotels and holiday homes, of which there were a pretty large amount. Eventually, she found a job with Valerie Artagne during the summer months, and decided to stay on long-term with her even after discovering several drugs that even in her old life she would have failed to come by. Valerie, for her part, was only too happy to have a criminal watching over her flat, as she was very used to hiding expensive things from prying eyes and in the grand scheme of things Hayley's eyes were not that prying. Hayley, being asexual, also could be relied upon to take a very no-nonsense attitude to the people Valerie brought home, which was invaluable when they woke up in the morning demanding more sex.

Eventually Valerie headed home to see her friend-with-benefits-but-also-just-a-friend Jamie, and Hayley tagged along with her. Passport control was a bit irritating but Valerie hit upon the excellent idea of blagging a ride on the british embassy's private jet. Jamie went into parliament, Hayley needed a job and Valerie persuaded her it would be both easy and safe to get a job in the houses of parliament. It was easy because everyone else left due to the limes, and it was safe because nobody wanted to sack the only person who seemed to want to work there. Hayley is now effectively in charge of all the maintenance personnel directly employed by the houses of parliament as well as the one who compiles all the information from each day's meetings. She does not enjoy herself very much.

Personality:

Hayley is, at heart, quite a passionate person, which is why she gets along well with Valerie. She knows what she likes and spends much of her time missing it. However, the majority of her time in parliament she is a very sober and matter-of-fact person, going through the motions of her job enough that she isn't written up on it.

Hayley is also loyal. Once she has decided to be, that is. Criminals are not known for their loyalty, but Hayley has enough wealth to afford a moral compass at this stage in her career, and will not betray someone she likes, despite these people often not knowing that she likes them. The Lime Disposal Squad's cabal of socially inept ex-nerds, for instance, have earned a place in her heart from resolutely trying to clean limes out of her office, despite the fact that she seems to them as very severe. This is what has kept them from being shut down and replaced with a more professional body.

She prefers a roundabout approach to problems rather than trying to tackle them head on. This makes her excellent as a negotiator in delicate political matters that most of the current elected officials are underequipped for (given they only got in after all the previous ones left), and she has been known to give even the more influential MPs a going over when they start throwing too many limes. None of them want to go to the press over it because the press is as yet unaware that lime throwing is the primary method of conflict resolution in Westminster.

Wardrobe:

When one's preferred wardrobe was designed for a basically year long summer spent on a beach one is not exactly adapted to a life spent in London. Most of Hayley's outfit centerpieces are jackets or trench coats aside from when she's going somewhere suitably warm for her to show off (literally anywhere that is indoors and heated).

Her colours are warm yellows paired with cooler, almost silvery, golds and whites, but obviously as it's hard to find sunflower coloured overcoats she has found a new friend in silvery grey. Not dark grey, it always has to be light, and it always has to be "Just right". The amount of money she pays, people are only too happy to fulfil her pickiness, and while not completely satisfied most people who meet her on business can't help commenting that she is very fetching in her silvery suit jacket and impeccably pressed trousers (hot woman is hot who would have thought wow).

Fun clothes are sundresses, bikinis, the works. Mostly yellow. She kind of eschews worn jewellery because it tended to be quite easy to lose in a life such as hers but does have a few small piercings that aren't likely to get caught on things, a couple in ears that are either studs or rings and a ruby stud in her navel because she couldn't find someone who had a tiger's eye piercing.

She WOULD wear sandals or flip flops but people give odd looks when she does this and so to maintain appearances it's heels all the way, pumps too.

Goofy aah:

Hayley is asexual, which may seem odd when one considers her choice of behaviour. Why would an asexual person engage in sexuality?????? I hear you cry. Fear not, I shall explain to you at length:

Hayley does not feel sexual attraction to people. She does however feel sexual arousal because you know she is a human and humans feel sexually aroused over different things. Hayley (would you believe it) enjoys feeling attractive, and this includes feeling sexually attractive, and so she engages in sexuality without any particular desire for anyone. If she didn't keep a knife in her inside pocket this would probably be dangerous to her but eh. She a girlboss for real.

Oh also she's aromantic. No she can't be your partner, she can be your friend, I have a million other OCs for you to fantasise about watching sunsets with. You can spend your time with hayley looking at her dreamily and thinking "Wow.... she's like sooo hot...." while she tries to drag your attention back to the latest excel spreadsheet on her computer (her heart's not in it)

[28northgroup]

If Your House Hasn’t Sold Yet, It May Be Overpriced

Has your house been sitting on the market a while without selling? If so, you should know that’s pretty unusual, especially right now. That’s because the supply of homes available for sale is still far lower than what we’d see in a normal year. That means buyers have fewer options than they usually would, so your house should be an oasis in an inventory desert.

So, if homebuyers have limited choices and your house still hasn’t sold, there’s a reason why. Let’s break one potential sticking point that may be turning buyers away: your asking price.

Especially with today’s higher mortgage rates already putting a stretch on their budget, buyers are being a bit more sensitive about price. As a recent article from the Wall Street Journal (WSJ) says:

“If you are serious about selling your home now, don’t get greedy with the asking price. This is still a seller’s home market as there simply aren’t enough affordable homes for sale in many parts of the country. But with average 30-year mortgage rates above 6%, buyers are much more price-sensitive than they were a year ago.”

Why Setting the Right Price Matters

While you want to maximize the return on your investment when you sell your house, you also need to be realistic based on current market conditions. The simple truth is your house is only going to sell for what people are willing to pay right now.

This can be a hard thing to accept. Especially since emotions can run high during the selling process, which only complicates matters more. After all, you may have lived in this house for years, so it’s only natural you’re emotionally tied to it – and those heartstrings can make it harder to be objective. 

But it’s important to acknowledge that a bigger-than-expected price tag deters buyers and may make them dismiss your house as a possibility before even seeing it. And if no one’s looking at it, how will it sell?

If you want to get your house sold, you’ll need to do something to spark interest in your home again. That’s where a local real estate advisor comes in. They’ll help use data to find out if it’s priced too high for your local market. They balance the value of homes in your neighborhood, current market trends and buyer demand, the condition of your house, and more to find the right price for your house, so you can close this chapter and start your next one.

Bottom Line

While it’s true there aren’t that many homes available for sale right now, your home’s asking price still matters. And, if it’s not selling, it may be priced too high.