#Easements and Rights of Way

[valuationproperty34]

Understanding Easements and Rights of Way: Key Considerations for Property Owners

Easements and Rights of Way are legal agreements that grant certain rights over a property to individuals or entities other than the owner. While these arrangements can be beneficial, they also come with responsibilities and potential limitations for property owners. Understanding the intricacies of these agreements is crucial for anyone buying, selling, or managing real estate. In this article, we’ll explore what they entail, why they matter, and tips for navigating them effectively.

What Are Easements and Rights of Way?

These legal provisions allow others to use part of your property for specific purposes. Here’s a breakdown of each:

Easements: These grant limited rights to use a portion of your property, such as access to utilities, shared driveways, or for conservation.

Rights of Way: A type of easement that allows others to pass through your land, often to access otherwise unreachable properties or public paths.

Both can be permanent or temporary and may influence property value, land use, and future development.

Why Easements and Rights of Way Matter

For property owners, knowing how these agreements work is key to avoiding conflicts and making sound decisions. Here’s why they’re important:

Legal Obligations: Owners must honor the terms, which can limit modifications to their land.

Property Value: These arrangements can impact market appeal and future resale value.

Neighbor Relations: Properly managed agreements help avoid disputes and support cooperative relationships.

Development Restrictions: Some easements may prevent construction in specific areas.

Access Requirements: Rights of way ensure vital access for landlocked lots or emergency services.

Understanding easements and rights of way empowers owners to manage their properties wisely.

Tips for Navigating Easements and Rights of Way

To handle these legal tools confidently, keep the following in mind:

Review Title Documents: Always check for existing easements or rights of way before buying or building.

Consult Legal Experts: A property attorney can clarify the scope and limitations of any agreement.

Negotiate Thoughtfully: If establishing a new easement, set clear terms that balance both parties' needs.

Document Everything: Formal documentation prevents misunderstandings down the line.

Maintain Communication: Engage with neighbors or utility companies to resolve concerns early.

By taking these steps, you can navigate easements and rights of way without unnecessary complications.

Conclusion

In conclusion, understanding easements and rights of way is essential for protecting your property interests while meeting legal requirements. These agreements can influence property use, development plans, and relationships with neighbors or service providers. With the right knowledge and expert guidance, you can manage these arrangements with confidence and clarity. Review your property records today to ensure you’re fully informed and prepared.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

you shouldn't be (down here with me)

sequel: you shouldn't be (up here alone)

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader

Rating: M (for mature, nonsexual content)

Notes: This popped into my head this morning and wouldn't leave me alone so here you go; not beta read.

Warnings: Reader has suicidal thoughts; reader has a breakdown; Jack Abbot's A+ Coping Skills; Jack Abbot's insistence in eye contact; canon-typical medical chat; bed sharing

Summary: When you're almost shot at work, your body snaps into autopilot as your mind goes into overdrive. Jack has always recognized parts of himself in you—he knows a mind teetering on the edge when he sees one.

I was gonna let him do it

"Another four of dilauded."

I was gonna let him do it

Your movements are automatic. You can feel the nervy glances thrown to you every few seconds. You know they're all waiting for you to crack, to say that you need a minute, to sub in for you so you can rip off your PPE, run to the bathroom, lose it.

I was gonna let him do it

You can't blame them—you had a gun pointed at your head half an hour ago. They don't know that you'd almost been resigned to it in that moment.

I was gonna let him do it

"Call surgery, let them know he's stabilized."

You turn, pick the phone up, dial, pause, relay the message.

I was gonna let him do it

--

"You alright?" Ellis asks as you pull your bloody PPE off, tucking it into the in by the door. You shrug, nod, hold your hand out for the spray of purell from the wall-mounted dispenser as you head for central. You pointedly ignore North Two, where the man is being held as the cops talk to him.

"Doing okay, champ?" It's Shen this time, and his use of 'champ' garners him a sidelong glance and a raised brow. He takes your muted wrath in the spirit with which it's meant, holds both hands up in easement before he skirts around you to finish filling out a chart.

You stop at your computer, leaning over it logging and eyeing the results of a blood test on a case earlier in the shift. You feel someone stop beside you, figure that they'll move on their way, that they're waiting for someone to clear before they move again.

I was gonna let him do it

When the presence lingers, you don't have to look up to see who it is. You know that a simple nod will send him on his way for at least a few minutes, but you don't think you can look at him, not right now.

"Something I can do for you, Dr. Abbot?"

Your smart question is met with silence, and you pull in a deep breath through your nose. You brace yourself before you pull yourself up to your full height, meeting his eye.

You know immediately that it's a mistake.

Jack is looking at you the way he looks at a troubling case—discerning, dissecting; trying to pinpoint where the pain is, what fix he can apply, prescribe.

"You're not sending me home." It's meant as a request, but it comes out as a plea. You know that your firmness missed the mark when his head tips to the side, just a little. His eyes dart to North Two, hold there for a moment.

"Tell me what you need."

"To be here," You insist, "To work." To not think about it

A short nod, just enough to let you know that you're good to get back to your job. You bow back over your computer, expect Jack to leave. But—

"If you change your mind—"

"I won't." You're too tired to be embarrassed by the fact that you answered too fast. And as Abbot turns away, you just catch on his sigh, his mutter of, "No, you won't."

--

When his hand lands on your lower back on your way out of the ER, you figure he's just keeping you moving—maybe to sop you from turning around and making this shift a double, or to help you avoid the couple of news vans and reporters that have pulled up.

You let him steer, even as that steady pressure keeps up for block after block. You don't even realize where you are until Abbot stops, fishes into his pocket for a set of keys. You look up at the unfamiliar door, mind racing as Abbot unlocks it. He turns to you, holds it open, waits.

You should tell him off. What the fuck was he thinking, bringing you back to his place like some stray puppy? Never mind the fact that this man is your boss, that this is wholly inappropriate.

You should go back to your apartment, shower, get into bed. Maybe schedule an emergency appointment with your therapist.

But you also know that you probably shouldn't be alone right now. Your apartment will be too quiet; your head will be too loud. That was half the reason you'd insisted on staying at work. You glance down the block, consider, then slide past him and step inside.

--

You take your time looking around—eyeing the books, the mail, the photos, the knick knacks—the little things that make somewhere home. You turn back to Jack just in time to see hm changing his shoes, putting a high-backed house shoe on where his boot usually covers his prosthetic.

Neither of you speak as you put your bag down and he takes your jacket. He disappears down the hall of the apartment, returns with a stack of fabric. You take it, cataloguing a towel, a washcloth, a pair of sweatpants, a shirt.

"First door on the left. Put your clothes in the hamper in there, I'll wash 'em." He nods toward the hall. "Go on."

--

You expect yourself to break down the second the warm water hits your skin. But as you stand in the steam, the toll on your body takes precedent. Your head is pounding; your feet are throbbing; your back and neck ache.

I was gonna let him do it

You draw in a deep breath, bracing your hands on the wall to ground yourself.

I almost let him do it

Your jaw tightens, stomach churning as you think back.

Gun muzzles were always described as cold, but this one was warm—probably from being tucked against the man's body. You can still feel the weight, the press of it, the slight waver and brush as his hand had shook. You can hear the click of the safety.

Your mind had gone quiet in that moment.

You'd just leaned in, and told the man that he'd only be making your shift better.

It had been enough to shock the both of you.

It had caught him off-guard long enough for you to try and disarm him, to call for security as the the two of you had struggled, sending the gun skittering under the bed as the treatment bay filled with security, fellow residents. Ahmad had the guy in a headlock in seconds; Abbot was between you and them before you could blink. When he'd asked you what had happened, all you'd managed was to point toward the bed, to say, "Gun."

The cops had tried to give admitting shit for it, but you'd waved them off, insisted, "He didn't seem—When he came back, he wasn't like that. I was trying to assess him. I must've moved too fast, he freaked. They couldn't have known, they didn't do anything wrong, so don't—don't."

Shen had tried to talk you into going home; Ellis had bombarded you with questions. Abbot told them to back off. He hadn't asked you if you were alright; he hadn't tried to make you go home, either.

"Where are you going next?" He'd asked. You'd just nodded toward the board, answered, "Hyperkalemia, South Three," and gone on your way.

--

You can smell coffee when you step out of the bathroom. You glance back in, making sure you clothes are safely tucked into the hamper before heading back into the living room. Jack passes you on the way, hands you a tv remote, says, "Mugs are on the counter."

"Thanks."

You get yourself a cup of coffee, tuck yourself into the corner of his couch. You consider the remote for a moment before setting it on the coffee table.

I was gonna let him do it...Wasn't I?

Were you? What the hell would that have done to everyone around you? Were you so far gone that you hadn't thought about how it would effect everyone else in the department? What would the patients have done when they'd heard the pop? You know your fellow doctors would've come running—what if he hadn't stopped with you?

Your lower lip wobbles. Tears prickle at your eyes, and the well of panic and fear and resignation that you'd been waiting for spill over. You sit with the mug of coffee in your hands, letting go to swipe at tears and sniffle every few seconds.

You've calmed by the time Jack comes back out. You know that you look hellish; your burning eyes must be red-rimmed, bloodshot. He sits down on the other end of the couch, nods toward the tv.

"Nothin'?"

"Feel free," You croak. Jack huffs, picking up the remote and turning it on. You listen to the tv as he flips through a few channels. You glance between it and him a couple of times.

"You're not gonna try to get me to get some sleep?" You ask.

"Do you want to sleep?"

"God no."

"Okay," Jack gives a small shrug. "I can never turn it off right after a shift."

"...Huh."

"What?" He frowns, glancing toward you.

"Just uh...Implies that you're ever able to turn it off...At all."

A smile unwittingly pulls at your lips as Jack rolls his eyes, turning back to the tv. You lean back against the couch, scrubbing your hand across your eyes. The sounds of a baseball game make you pick your head up, brow furrowing as you squint at the tv.

"There's a game on a eight in the morning?"

"I recorded it."

Your mouth forms a small 'o' as you nod.

"We can watch something else," Jack adds.

"No. No, this is good."

--

You don't focus much on the game. Now and again, the tears flow, and you let them run quietly until they ebb. You dab them with your borrowed shirt sleeve.

Jack manages to wait until the seventh inning stretch before he asks:

"You talking to anyone?"

"I have a therapist."

"You speak to 'em regularly?"

"Mhm."

"They know about this?"

"About what?"

When he doesn't answer, you glance toward him. You expect open reproach, but Jack watches you with patience—and maybe a little pity. You push a sigh through your nose as you turn back to the tv.

"I talk to her about the day to day stuff, you know, not the...Grippy sock stuff."

"So you don't think about this every day."

"No."

Jack hums; you see him nod in your periphery.

"I had a bad day," You hurry to add, "We all have them."

"Not bad enough to tell someone threatening to shoot you that they're about to make your shift better."

Your head snaps to Jack, stunned—you'd omitted that from your report. But he just tips his head, shakes it again.

"I was one exam room over. I put two and two together when you pointed out the gun."

A lump forms in your throat as you burn with shame and embarrassment.

"I didn't—" It bursts out of you as the tears well again. "I wasn't—No one was supposed to know—"

Jack's across the couch in a second, pulling you into his chest as you sob. His hand curls around the back of your neck, thumb sweeping your nape as you shake against him. You feel his breath against your hair; you think you feel the pressure of a kiss, but it's gone as soon as you register it.

"C'mon." It's a soft urging as you slowly calm.

"Where 'm I going?" Your tongue feels heavy; your voice is thick from your crying.

"To get some sleep."

"I'll sleep here."

"You'll get better rest in a bed."

"I'm not taking your bed, Jack."

"You'll be more comfortable."

"I don't care. They need you in working at the Pitt."

Jack's hand slides around your neck to gently grasp your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"We need you, too." His hold on you stays firm as you try to look away, bu he won't let you. He gives a small nod, searching your eyes. "I need you. Okay?"

You muster a small, short nod, sniffling.

"I'm still not taking your bed."

He sighs, but it doesn't stop the smile growing on his lips.

"Stubborn little so-and-so," He mutters before pushing himself off of the couch, holding a hand out to you. "Come on."

You take it, letting him lead you down the apartment hall again. You take a cursory look around his bedroom as you had his living room a few hours ago. You climb ungracefully into the neatly made bed, snuggling under the covers.

Jack takes a moment longer, drawing the blackout curtains closed, leaving only his bedside lamp to light the room. You roll onto your side, tucking your hands under your head, watching the play of his back muscles beneath his shirt as he leans down, removing his prosthetic and massaging the skin there for a moment.

He glances back and gives a small smile when he spots you watching him.

"All set?"

"Not gonna read me a bedtime story?"

He snorts, reaching out and shutting off the lamp before shuffling under the covers himself.

"Keep it up and you're sleeping on the couch."

You smile into the darkness as he settles down beside you. You can feel him watching you—maybe waiting for you to fall apart again, to offer reassurance.

"...Sorry I cried on you," You mumble.

"I prefer it to having a patient pee on me."

"Oh, well in that case—happy to oblige."

Your eyelids flutter as his hand smooths over your cheek. "Get some sleep."

"Mmkay."

You hold your breath as his hand slides down your cheek, over your shoulder, trailing down your arm. As his fingers skim across yours, you impulsively catch hold of his hand. You're certain he'll give your hand a squeeze before pulling away, but Jack goes still, and you fall asleep with your fingers tangled together.

--

"Hungry?"

You nod, shuffling closer to the table where a pizza box is laid out on his small table.

It had been strange to wake up alone in a bed that wasn't yours, and it had taken a few moments to remember where you were, and how you'd gotten here. Your freshly washed clothing had been neatly folded and waiting for you when you woke up, but you'd stayed in your borrowed clothing.

"You up long?" You ask, sitting at his table.

"Mm," He shrugs. "A bit."

You narrow your eyes slightly, fishing your phone out of your pocket to eye the time.

"How long was I asleep?"

"You got a good five hours."

You grunt, taking a slice leaning back in your seat, muttering, "New weekly record."

"What do you usually do when you can't sleep?"

"I don't know. Read?"

"You need some new hobbies."

"11-8, we've got a report of an assailant with a knife–"

You glance over as Jack hurries to stand, watching him go into the living room and switch something off. Your brows raise as he comes back, amused by the way he studiously avoids your eye and settles back in.

"...Was that a police scanner?" You ask knowingly. His answering grunt is enough, and you stifle a laugh. "So let me get this straight: you hang out listening to the police scanner like you're fricking Batman, but I need some new hobbies?"

"Alright."

"Are you actually fighting crime when you're off shift? It would explain your go-bag."

"I like to be prepared."

"Uh-huh." You smile as Jack shakes his head, picking at a piece of pepperoni on his slice. "Thanks for letting me crash."

"Sure. You needed sleep."

"I mean...I mean crash-crash."

"Just glad you came in."

"You didn't think I would?"

"Wasn't sure." Jack takes a bit, leans back in his seat. You don't have to look to know that he's watching you; to be able to feel him winding up. You figure you're going to get a speech, but—

"Tell me next time you feel like that."

You wince, wind up to argue, but Jack holds a hand up to stop the argument.

"I don't need to know what you're thinking word-for-word. But tell me if it's getting...You know."

"Scary?"

"Does it feel scary?"

You consider it, picking at the crust on the slice. "...Last night did."

"A man put a gun to your head. That would scare anybody."

"...Yeah." You draw in a deep breath. "I'll tell you if you tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"When you're thinking about going to the roof." You think for a moment that you've gone too far; Jack's brows pop up, jaw muscle ticking as he clenches it. You wait for him to tell you that you've overstayed your welcome, o give him back his clothes, take your half-eaten slice and get out.

But instead he leans across the table and holds his hand out. Deal.

You take hold of his hand, pump it once, and you both settle back to finish eating.

--

"You coming in tonight?"

You give him a knowing glance as you pull your jacket on, and he smiles, nodding.

"I figured you would," He adds, "Never hurts to ask."

"I guess."

"You could take the day. Everyone would understand."

"I need to get back in there."

"Exposure therapy."

"Something like that."

You pick your bag up, slinging it over your shoulder. "I know I said it before, but thank you. Seriously. I don't, uh..." You trail off, looking around his entry way. "I don't know what the last few hours would've looked like if I'd gone home."

Jack closes the gap between you, tipping his head to catch your eye, and smiling when you do.

"Anytime."

And from anyone else, you'd think they were just trying to console you, but in that moment, you know that he means it. You nod, reaching out and giving his arm a gentle squeeze and a pat before turning away.

"See you in a couple'a hours."

sequel: you shouldn't be (up here alone)

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

 ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; 

@winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

[interloved]

toxic!anakin skywalker hcs

description box; small collection of nsfw drabbles for anakin x reader; i love my insane pookie

warnings; nsfw warnings; basically anakin is absolutely crazy, deranged and utterly obsessed with you. insane psychos are so hot bUT THIS BEHAVIOUR IS NOT TO BE ROMANTICISED!! and also minors dni

has an unhealthy habit of always checking your phone. he has a physical need to know who you’re talking to and why—that coworker named joseph you’re talking to? yeah, he CLAIMS to want to discuss your work schedule, but anakin’s so sure he wants to take advantage of you. and because anakin’s so smart and knows everything better than you do, you should just trust him and let him delete his number. and the number of every guy you have saved on your phone. but since anakin’s so smart, he’s surely right!!

he NEEDS everyone to know you’re taken and that you’re his. he’ll always have an arm slung around your shoulder casually, his hand resting at your hip, his fingers intertwined with yours or you wearing clothes that are obviously his (he really likes you in his clothes!!). but sometimes, that’s not enough, and he knows it’s pathetic but he literally can’t stand seeing you with any other guy except him. so sometimes, necessities like pretty bruises on your neck or marks on your chest are needed. he’s just letting everyone know you’re his, you wouldn’t object to that… right??

he can and he WILL stalk you. what, you’re going out without him? to go clubbing?? with your friends??? at NIGHT????

he can’t just possibly let you do that, he literally can’t stand the thought of even a mere possibility of you getting hurt somehow, it genuinely hurts his heart because how will he survive without you? you’re his world, and he’ll do anything to keep you. he just cares about you so much :(

anakin definitely has problems with sharing you with your friends, especially your male friends, and you’re so grateful he’s letting you talk to your female friends you’re not even considering talking to your guy friends again. oh, he looks out for you so much, awww

he’s a master manipulator and a professional gaslighter. all of your friends hate him, and are telling you to break him with him because he’s “toxic and obsessive”. baby, he’s not!! he’s just jealous sometimes and just very protective :( it makes him so sad every time you bring this up because why’re you trusting your friends over him? he’s the one you should trust the most, isn’t he? does that mean you don’t love him anymore?

needs your attention 24/7, all the time. he absolutely hates being separated from you, and even in his sleep, it’s like he won’t let go of you. he’ll always have an arm draped over your body, or his hands hooked on your waist. anakin is a naturally light sleeper, so he’ll wake up every time you get up—be it to use the bathroom or when you’re leaving for work. if everything went his way, he’d never let you leave him.

definitely thinks about locking you up in his big mansion. you’re so pretty he can’t stand the lingering gaze of other guys checking you out. he wishes he could be the only one to see your beauty.

likes to be in control and to be in charge of every situation regarding you. he knows he’s very intense in everything he does. that’s why he’s so grateful you put up with all his needs, but anakin is a very sceptical and careful person, he needs to know where you are and who you’re with—it’s no surprise he persuaded you to have your location on at all times. for your safety, he claims, and for his easement.

absolutely gets off on the height difference between you. you’re smaller than him, and he loved how cutely tiny you look next to him—and how you look when he uses you as his fleshlight!!

loves having you all submissive and obedient. his favourite positions are every one in which he can look at you, he loves seeing small tears forming in your eyes, loves you looking up at him in adoration, all trapped and utterly defenceless in his toned arms, mewling and gasping, moaning his name. especially loves when you’re sucking his cock, all pretty and desperate beneath him. just the way he likes you best.

why are you working? he makes enough money to provide for you AND a child; he has a house and a car. what do you need more? he knows you like your job, but he’d rather have you at home at all times. where you’re safe.

spoils you so much. he’ll buy you pretty clothes, sparkly jewellery, expensive shoes and anything else you want, he’d buy you an entire country if you asked him to. it’s not about flaunting his money or wealth or anything, he just gets off seeing you wearing stuff and knowing that he paid for it, so essentially, you’re walking around with his clothes.

for your birthday, he gifted you the cutest and most beautiful necklace!! if only you knew about the tracker inside it. he knows he has your location and you’re such a good girl for him he’s sure you’d never turn it off, but… just in case. (he’s lowkey paranoid)

if he could, he would carve his initials on you. (possessive much?)

but since you’d be hurt and he doesn’t like seeing you cry, he’s tried convincing you of getting a tattoo on your collarbone with his initials, and he’ll get one with your initials on his hip bone. you’re scared to death of needles though :( he’ll have to work on that for a while, but he knows he can get you to do anything for him with the right method and the right time.

has thought excessively and extensively about knocking you up. he knows you wouldn’t ever leave him if you were pregnant with his baby, god bless your sweet, kind and loving soul, and he loves to have that reassurance. so when condoms start to accidentally break, he accidentally forgets to wear one in the heat of the moment and he just can’t stop thrusting his load into you, you should’ve known those were not accidents.

but it’s too late now, anyway, you’re trapped, so you might as well just enjoy being trapped by him forever :)

“keep those legs open for me, doll. you can do that f’me, can’t you?” he mutters against your lips hoarsely, and you’re crying of the overstimulation.

“can’t,” you sniffle and your legs tremble adorably, “ani, ‘s too much… ‘s too much, i can’t…”

his gaze hardens, “you can and you will.”

[petalsonmoon]

one touch but you felt enough... you are in love.

(writing so i don’t think about the manga. for the wellness of my mental health. thank you for reading <3)

there's this thing shouto does

it's all too fresh. you can't even tell what you guys are.

shoto is a very sincere yet blank person. you can't read in his expression what he's feeling nor can you interpret his little actions. but if you ask him what he thinks about something he’ll express his opinion in the most clear and gentle way possible.

the course to what you both are now it's werdly cute. you noticed this little something he did because, well, who didn't notice the presence of shouto todoroki? he's the personification of kindness and quietude and tranquility. turns out these definitions created the most beautiful person you've ever seen.

and by noticing the details you noticed the overall and by doing that you two ended up getting closer and closer. you could rely on him to come to your dorm to tell you dinner was ready and be right there by your side during it and you would find him during his training or studing sessions to give him a water bottle. you would’ve thought that with a quirk like that he'd remember to drink it, right? he didn't.

you two would find easement in each others patience and honesty. it's actually being there for each other and not jumping any steps and boundaries that made you two unintentionally friends.

so on third year todoroki, being his straghforwardly serene person that he was, appeared in your dorm and cofessed to you how he had an affection for you for quite some time now, how much your time together was heightening to being the most comfortable he's been with someone and asked you if you wanted to stay by his side from now on.

those were his words. like, c'mon.

so you said yes. that you very much feel much calmer in his presence and would be absolutely happy to be by his side.

that was 2 weeks ago.

since then you noticed this little thing he did.

which is funny, to perceive a slight action from someone whose words were his main character.

and you wait for it to happen at least three times before saying anything.

right now you were in the communal space, sitting in the sofa while your remaining colleagues were still stretching after a 2 hour movie and chatting the plot away,

it was summer so the air conditioner was on. a few glasses with only ice could be found on the coffee table.

you were next to shoto, by his right, smuggled between him and furniture’s arm. you turn to look at him and gets irritated how his profile is so fucking powerful.

“do you like fantasy movies?” you whisper to him. he thinks about it for a moment.

“i like them” he replies, gazing down at his hands. “but they’re not my preference.”

“and what would that be?” you start fidgeting with your fingers, very slighly.

he takes a deep breath and squint his eyes for a second. he turns his eyes to you and you have to seriously fight your lungs to not hold it’s breath just because your heat leaped a beat.

“romcoms.” he says under his breath, expression clearly blank.

you pinched your lips trying not to let the chuckle escape. it makes sense, actually.

“can i ask why?”

“they’re very entertaning.” he comteplates softly “not too much going on but you can always have a great time and even a good laugh.”

he finishes his thought and looks away, satisfied. you can’t help but feel your body sink in fondness.

“that’s true. they’re always nice.” you reply.

“what about you?”

“my favorite genre?”

he nods and looks at you again.

“i would say...” you look down and think how you’d already know the answer. would he think less of you for being too different from his likes? “drama? with a bit of suspense in it?”

he nods in response and you don’t feel his eyes on your face anymore. you’re both looking at your hands.

“it makes sense.” he concludes after a moment and you look up at him, intrigued. “they’re always very interesting.”

you let the little smile in your mouth win and checks around discretely, after seeing only a few people far in the kitchen you leave a gentle kiss on his shoulder.

the little smile also make an appearance on his face for a millisecond.

 “i also really like animation.” you say.

his eyebrows go up for a second. “yes, some of them are really impressive.”

“they have a way to make hugs so beautiful and comforting...” you let it out before even thinking. that’s just how comforting it was being with him.

“oh. the studio ghibli embraces, isn’t it?” he completes.

“yes! it’s really profound somehow and sometimes a hug like that is all you need.” you look away and shiver. it is hot but you did not go well with air conditioners. the temperature people tend to feel content at usually was the same one where you needed to be in a hoodie. but that was a unimportant fact that would die with you.

“hm” he replies “i think princess mononoke is my favorite one...”

“it makes sense.”

he turns to you once again, expressionless. “does it?”

“uhum.” you feel your body shivering again “it’s very humane and important...”

“what else?” he whisper.

“and emotional and romantic... it’s perfect, really.” you hold his gaze, already wanting to stay there forever.

and then he does it.

right when you conclude your description you feel his fingertips slowly touching yours with such tenderness and delicacy you’d almost miss it, if you didn’t also automatically felt your body warming up to the exact condition for you to feel perfectly comfortable.

“oh, shouto...” you let it escape, feeling like you could cry. you didn’t say a word about your issue but he noticed. he noticed you.

he interlocks your fingers and takes your knuckles to his mouth, placing a warm and short kiss there.

“it seems to me that it’s your favorite movie too.”

you move your free hand and position it in the back of his head, your fingers starts moving sweetly and he closes his eyes.

you take the opportunity to kiss him. he immediately responds and kisses you completely. his kiss is slow and patient and sure and you feel yourself melting in your feelings for him. your hand on his head makes sure to intensify the kiss and shoto lets a delicious and lovely sound escape his throat.

you pull back for a second. “i’m feeling a bit lightheaded.”

his eyebrowls furrowing and his eyes sparkling.

“like i’m in a romcom.”

[roseykat]

KINKTOBER DAY 12

TITLE: Like Throwing Petrol on a Fire

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: Hyunjin can't get either his or your clothes off in time for him to fuck you. Unfortunately, he has to resort to and put up with another method.

TAGS: pre-established relationship, dry humping, swearing, poor Hyunjin can’t help himself (also both reader and Hyunjin are mentioned to be at the club but there is no alcohol involved with this story)

KINK: Dry humping.

KINKTOBER23 - MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @kbitties @luneskies @mal-lunar-28 @kibs-and-bits @aaasia111 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung @queenmea604

🩷🩷🩷

-

It was meant to be a good night out for you and Hyunjin, which it was to begin with. You, him, and a group of friends all collectively decided to go clubbing together for the first time in a while. However, later in the night, Hyunjin would find himself in a predicament that he never would've been able to climb his way out of.  

What started off as innocently taking you to the dance floor, turned out to be the worst decision he had ever made. 

Had you not been pressing your ass against his hips for the entirety of the night, Hyunjin wouldn’t be where he is now; sexually frustrated and pissed off because you were teasing him in public. The fact that you knew and felt that he was getting hard, yet continued to grind on him was enough for Hyunjin to take you by the wrist, and pull you with him to the bathroom. 

Sneaky, public, bathroom sex would’ve been ideal for you both at the club – had it not already been full to the brim with other occupants already going at each other. It was either that or go home, and Hyunjin is not one to muck around when he’s horny.

He gets desperate, almost borderline agitated when he’s in the mood because he can’t fuck you.  

Seeing him like that always makes you want to tease him, but you know better. Teasing him means pure punishment for you and Hyunjin has a very creative mind so you always tread carefully around him when he’s in that state. He could deprive you of his body for an entire week or fuck you every day if he wanted. He’s just full of surprises. 

But now and then, Hyunjin becomes so needy that punishments and rewards don’t even cross his mind. That instance just so happened to occur at the club.

Having been so frustrated with not being able to find a decent place to fuck you, the pair of you needed to go home. Alleyways and narrow streets weren’t going to cut it for him, not when there were too many people loitering around. 

So Hyunjin led you back to his car, jumping in and nearly racing off. To make matters worse for him, you decide to test him by palming over his already hard cock. He couldn’t bear the strain he felt against his pants regardless of the small easements of pressure you were giving him as he drove you both back home. 

His head presses back into his chair, trying with every ounce of strength to keep his eyes on the road, “baby, why can’t you wait until we get home?” 

“Because I need you now Jinnie,” you mutter, taking advantage of the state that he’s in. 

Hyunjin does his best to ignore your answer as he turns the last corner onto the street of the house. He eventually slows down and pulls into the driveway to park. As he gets out, he’s thankful that it’s pitch black and everyone in the neighbourhood is asleep, otherwise they would’ve easily seen how hard is. 

“Keys,” you say to him. 

Hyunjin is already on it, barely saying anything as he pulls the house key out of his pocket with a shaky hand and unlocks the front door. The second it’s open, it’s Hyunjin’s game now. 

He pulls you in by the wrist, slamming the door, and backs you right against the entryway table with such force that it dents the wall behind it. There’s no making it to the room, let alone the lounge at this rate.

Hyunjin helps lift you onto the surface of the table, hoisting your legs up just to push and spread them for him to slide in between. Even just feeling the heat in between your thighs is enough to give him some relief, but not the kind that he's craving. 

“I need you…so bad baby,” he groans, pressing his hard, clothed cock into your pussy. 

The friction for you is incredible against your clit, but you do feel for Hyunjin who can’t do much when he’s in formal black slacks. All the while one of Hyunjin’s arms wraps around your lower back so that he can grope the other side of your body while the other hooks around and digs into your thigh.

“Yeah?” You ask, allowing him to continue to fake fuck you while his face is buried in your neck. He can’t even think straight enough to try to take his pants off.

Hyunjin groans, his voice raspy yet hurried, “fuck, I-“

“You know I’m ready for you, so wet for you Jinnie,” you egg him on even further. “Just want you to fuck me.”

His moans are exasperated and breathy, he always sounds beautiful to you when he’s like this, “I can’t – fuck I’m gonna cum…”

You’re not surprised given that you’ve technically been teasing him for the past hour now. So now all you can do is sympathise and let him do what he needs to. 

“It’s okay,” you assure him, breathing just as fast as he is. “Just cum for me.”

Hyunjin’s hips stagger out of their pace, continuing to thrust his dick repeatedly until he has to bite down on your shoulder to suppress the loud moans that are straining out of his throat. Not even a few seconds later, Hyunjin is rocked with an orgasm that has him gripping tightly onto your body, nails digging into you.

The pace of his thrusts slows down after his breathing reaches its peak height. Hyunjin has forgotten what it felt like to not cum inside you for once. It reminds him of the time when you first got together and were scared to take each other's virginities so only dry humping really made the cut. It still feels good, but not as nearly as glorious as busting a warm load inside of you.

"Fuck," Hyunjin sighs.

"Feel better?" You ask, carding your hand through the back of his black hair.

He looks down in between your legs, seeing the hairline-like, sticky strings of cum that connect from his clothed dick to your damp underwear. Hyunjin can barely tell if it's from him, or if that's just because you're wet. Maybe it's both. Either way, he finds it hot.

"You drive me crazy you know that?" Hyunjin says to you, leaning back in to snuggle his face into your neck once more. “Now I have to get hard again to fuck you.”

[frostedclock-writes]

Crimson Magnolias

Part 6

----

Warnings: rated R for mature audience, Hanahaki Disease, one sided romance, Alastor x female reader, not beta read.

----

You glance back. The little egg creatures were following at a very close pace, if you stopped for a moment they would slam right into your heels. You make a small hum and look back ahead as Alastor's long legged pace was slowed for your easement. The chatter from the eggs was like having a gaggle of children following the two of you to an overlord meeting. You were under the impression that he was going to get rid of the small things but you don't know how he planned on ditching the eggs.

" Is that your ears or your hair? I can't tell!"

" Why are you so tall, Mr. Bossman?"

" The lady is pretty! Why do you smell like flowers all the time, Ms. Boss lady?"

" Can I play with the microphone?"

" Are the two of you married? "

" Are we there yet?"

You were almost thankful when Zestial, the oldest sinner that you knew still walked hell, appeared. His slender and tall frame towered over you, making even alastor appear short in comparison. You kinda droned out their conversation about overlord niceties one might call it, you walked quietly on the otherside of Alastor. You forgot what it was like walking with Alastor, or any overlord with a reputation. Sinners and imps alike avoided the pathway the two took and some began to run in the other direction.

Alastor's reputation even carried past his years of absence. It was a bit amazing. You have a feeling if most overlords were to disappear for as long as he did and return, well most sinners would think he would have went soft by now. They would be dead wrong. More than likely in a literal sense.

Even if you did finally tell Alastor how you felt, do you even belong at his side? You aren't anything special, you don't have power or fame. Most would see you as plain perhaps, even an easy target. You weren't exactly a fighter either.

"Y/N? Cher?" Alastor's voice brought you back into the conversation as the group of you arrived outside the Carmine tower.

" Oh! Ahah sorry, must have lost myself in thought." You smile and hope the excuse passes.

Alastor made a small hum in his throat. " Ah, well come now. We shouldn't be tardy." The elevator door slid open as he approached it, Zestial stepped inside and Alastor waited for you at the threshold of the elevator.

You stepped inside before him and he stood in front of you as the doors attempted to close but the egg creatures were in the way. Alastor took his microphone cane and pushed them out of the elevator, he made a tut.

He looked to the egg boiz and smiled a few inches wider. " Stay here and guard the door. "

Salutes and 'yes, Mr. Bossman's sounded off. Okay kinda endearing you suppose. They were like perfect minions in the nickelodeons you used to go to when you were alive, they could occupy Oswald or some such. The elevator door closed soundlessly and the chime sounded as the floors were passed. Alastor's hums filled the space with a soft tone and crackles like a radio station you couldn't quite catch the signal of.

Something shifted by your feet.

Oh.

An egg boi stood confused as he looked out the glass window of the elevator. His little black hands pressed against the glass and he looked down, the buildings shrank as you all reached the top floors. You take your eyes off of him for a moment as a loud chime signaled the elevator had reached the top floor. The solid door opened and the stark white tiles and walls of Carmine's building shined like someone had recently came and waxed the floors. Zestial bent his head a little as he exited first, you looked to Alastor for a moment and saw his elbow extended for you. You felt blood rush to your cheeks as you loop your arm with his.

Your other hand came and rested on top of your own, you glance at the side of Alastor's face. His monocle hid a bit of his eye from this angle, but his smile was soft and his brows relaxed. Not often do you catch this expression, even before. It was always nice to peek and see his mask slip just a little. It reminded you of the man you met one day in a speakeasy.

Other overlords began to spill from the other elevators and made their way into the conference room set up for everyone. You took a small breath as your footsteps fell in line with Alastor's. You felt a few eyes on you but then they quickly left, you spotted Rosie. The cannibal overlord looked over with a bright smile seeing Alastor, and then her pitch black eyes seemed to shift focus to you. Her smile stretched a little wider. You let your arm slip from Alastor's as the two of you approached the table. Alastor's fingers snapped and a chair for you appeared just a tad behind where him and Rosie.

You take the seat and place your hands in your lap. Fuck, why did you agree to this?

Because Alastor asked.

Yeah.

Shit.

Your head spun a little as powerful beings in hell all gathered in the same room and a projection of lost 'assets' on the projected screen. The door from an office in the back opened and three people came out towards the head of the table.

Camilla Carmine. A gorgeous woman who walked in pointed shoes that looked just as deadly as any weapon that hung in the conference room. They glowed faintly like they had an ethereal aura about them, angelic steel of you had to hazard a guess. She began to address the room, then her eyes settled on Alastor. And for a moment darted to your presence near the window.

" Alastor. So you've come back. "

" Ahahh yes, I have been gone for some time now. I'm sure you've all been wondering~" Alastors chipper tone replied.

" Not really. But good to have you back. " Camilla said bluntly and uninterested.

A record scratch told you that it definitely irked Alastor. Seeing as the two things he was hoping to stir up the meeting didn't exactly pan out how he had hoped. Camilla had brought her - daughters? - with her, and they sat like you. They were off to the side and remained quiet. And his own presence was quickly written off as the matriarch of the Carmine family began to spill off jargon that you didn't quite understand in terms of Overlord controls and assets in the upcoming extermination. It kinda made your head spin. Definitely not your wheelhouse of expertise, but it seemed everyone else seemed to be following along just fine.

The door slammed open and your eyes shot over to a small woman talking on a phone. You recognized her. One of Vox's coconspirators, what was her name? Viola? Victoria?Violet? No, it was something to do with fabric... Ah right Velvette, Vox had mentioned her if you were mistaken. She was a little firey bearcat, she came in like she had better places to be and was even outspoken about it. What does 'come to represent' mean? Like represent the Vees? Wasn't that obvious?

When she chuckled the angel's head on the the table. The overlords all began to murmur to one another about the still bloody head. Was that an actual exterminator? It sure looked like one, the blood was gold like ichor dripping onto the table. You looked up back to Velvette as she strode across the table. Despite her size, she held herself like she was the one who ran hell. Camilla cut her respectless tirade towards her and Zestial. She avoided the question the fashionista had put forward to her. The angel. It was almost obvious that Camilla knew something but clearly wasn't going to reveal it.

" This meeting is over. " Camilla turned and her arms were crossed, her daughters looked at her in worry or perhaps shock it was hard to tell with the pair.

Velvette hopped off the table and tossed her loos strands from her pigtail over her shoulder. She made a scoff of a laugh, " Be safe getting back to the retirement home. "

You blinked. Was overlord meetings always so quick?

" What a productive meeting." Alastor rose to his feet and so did everyone else.

You followed suit and you glanced over towards Camilla and Zestial making their way to the back office again. Alastor stayed where he stood for a moment. He gave a you a gesture to keep going so you turned and went towards the door. You made a surprised squeak as you feels an arm lace through yours andpulled you into a tall side. Rosie, the scent of flowers and rotton meat reminded you of Venus flytraps.

" Y/N! Oh dear it had been too long. You've missed my last two tea parties. I had to make due with Susan for an ear to talk off. " Rosie snorted a laugh and she waved her hand dismissively. " I see you have a lot to catch me up on~" she cooed in a teasing voice.

" I... Uh have no clue what you mean. " You make a small laugh.

" Mmmhmm, word is you are staying with Alastor in that little hotel the Princess of Hell is running. "

"N-Not with HIM per say. I have my own room, I work there for a few dollars is all. "

" Mmmhmm," her pitch black eyes looked right through you. " Well, what sort of things do you do then?" Her smile widened a little.

" Well... Not much so far but.... Oh no don't you look at me with those big eyes like that. Rosie!" You felt the heat rising to your cheeks. " I needed some funds and he offered a job. " You knew what she was thinking and now you wouldn't be able to get out of Tea Time with Rosie. You can already hear her questions now. Hopefully she will take mercy upon you.

She covered her mouth with her hands and made a soft giggle. " I only tease darling. " Her expression softened. " I know how it must be for you right now darling. " Her hand rested on your lower back in a comforting gesture. " You really should get some of it off your chest."

Off your chest. Out of your chest.

" Rosie... " You whispered.

"I apologize, ladies, for my absence. " Alastor manifested behind the two of you in a melt of a shadow. " Hope I didn't miss anything too entertaining." He strode to the elevator door and pushed the button. His hand blocked the door to let you and Rosie through.

" Oh nothing just us clucking like two hens. " Rosie quickly covered and made a laugh. "Alastor, you really should have told me you made it back to town. I would have had a meal or something made for all of us to celebrate. "

Alastor laughed as he stepped inside, the elevator doors closed behind him. " Ahah, no need for that. Though, I might take you up on that meal soon. You do always have the most delectable selection on meat. Besides..."

You had slowly relaxed your shoulders. Then, Alastor had grabbed a hold of them, one on each side. He put his face cheek to cheek with yours. Oh shit. Shit. He felt so warm and his skin was soft against yours. Could he feel your heartbeat? It felt like it was pounding hard to the surface of your skin.

" Y/N here greeted me so warmly that one could forget that they were gone for seven years. " Alastor let go of you as the elevator dinged and signaled it's opening.

Rosie chuckled behind her hand and that sharp tooth grin was mischievous. " Is that so? Well so good you have someone who waited for you like that. " She stepped outside the elevator and glanced towards the massive clock tower. " I should get back to my people. Let's talk soon. "

Alastor waited for you to exit before he did himself. For a moment you realized the little egg that had went up with you and Alastor didn't come back down. But the thought quickly fled as you returned you focus to Rosie. " Oh, yes, and let's catch up.... Next week?" You ask, when you get a nod, you bid your goodbyes.

Rosie walked down, you watched until her large hat became nothing but a dot on the end of the street before she turned. The sound of trash clattering brought you back to the moment, the egg creatures had began to rummage and play around in the filth and garbage of the dumpsters. You crinkled your nose, their little suits already getting stains from the leaking bags and and other viscera found in Hell's garbage. You were glad you weren't in charge of guest laundry.

" Y/N, dear. " Alastor spoke up with a light hum to his voice. " You seem distracted today. Is my company not entertaining enough?" He tilted his head, you could hear a couple of cracks come from his neck.

You make a laugh. " No, nothing of the sort." You look at him for a moment longer. The way his eyes seemed to trace your face and search through your soul. It made your throat tingle.

He snapped his head back into place and made a tut. He seemed like he was about to say something when the elevator sounded another passenger was about to be let out. You look over and see the egg boi waddle over. He placed a hand on your shoulder and his smile widened.

" One moment. Could you be a dear and gather the other ones from their.... playpen?"

" Oh... Sure?"

It was a bit abrupt but you do as he asked and go over to the dumpster. While you told the egg boi to get ready to go, you glanced over and saw Alastor speaking with 'Frank' as the others called him. He seemed to get in a rather good mood after Frank told him something then he spun back to you and the lined up minions.

" Well! Shall we get back to the hotel? " Alastor spoke chipperly as he extended his arm for you to take.

You raise an eyebrow and take his arm. "What was that about?" You ignore the tightness in your throat

" Oooh nothing of your concern right now, cher. " A laugh track played behind his chuckle.

" Well it certainly put a pep in your step. " You chuckled.

" Well the news was quite.... Lovely I suppose. " He flashed you his slightly yellowed teeth in a sharp grin. " Makes one glad to be dead. " He laughed again.

Alastor began to hum a tune you remembered belonged to Duke Ellington. You could close your eyes and for a moment you were back on the streets of the French Quarter, and he was walking you home after a night of libations and dancing. Your palms used to sweat a little and you were always worried he would feel it and not want to hold your hand again.

You open your eyes and Hell returned to your vision. Hazbin Hotel in flashing neon above a rough looking building. You took a breath, your lungs rattled a little and the sulphur in the air mixed with the ginger in an acrid way. Alastor's steps stopped and you looked over at him, his large ears were perked up and he patted the top of your fingers with his hand.

" This weekend we shall celebrate, perhaps cut a rug like we used to. I know I could use a bout of good ol'fun. Saturday Night. I'll even bake us a nice meat pie for the evening. " Alastor told you.

Your heart squeezed hard in your chest. Dancing with Alastor again, you almost couldn't breath. Perhaps just the two of you in his broadcast room with a bottle of whiskey and jazz music. Then your brain clicked. Saturday. Oh no. Oh dear.

"O-Oh I have plans this Saturday. Maybe we could do it on Sunday?"

A record scratch. You saw an eyebrow twitch. He hadn't expected you to have someone else on your dance card, one might say.

" Plans? What sort of plans? "

" I... Have a date. "

Alastor's eyes narrowed a bit and his ears were now pulled back. " A date? " He adjusted his monocle. " You had never seemed interested in such things before. " He seemed to be more speaking to himself than you. " I don't recall you having any suitors when we alive.... And you always refused the riff-raff that came around down here. "

'That's because of you, Alastor. All I ever wanted was you to look at me like I was the only thing around. And I loved for the moments it seemed like it might have been true. ' You thought, keeping the words in your throat with the clump of petals you swallowed down.

You make a small laugh. " Well, I thought a change of pace might be good for me. Give it the ol' college try."

He was quiet for a moment. Alastor then made a hum and opened the front door of the hotel. Feedback from a microphone underlayed his next words. " Then, I suppose we should reschedule. Sunday it is. "

" Alastor...are you... Are you jealous?"

He changed his tone and he moved inside the hotel his arms slipped from yours. " No! Why would I be jealous of that infernal picture box?"

" How do you know that it's Vox? " You ask pointedly. Following close behind his heels. " It could have been anyone. I could have a hot date with Husk." You say and gesture towards the bar as his pathway took you past the addition to the hotel.

Husk looked up from cleaning a glass and furrowed his eyebrows. " Ah no, don't drag me into this shit. " He pointed at you. " I ain't getting in the middle of..." He gestured at the general area of you and Alastor. " Whatever this shit is. "

Alastor made a sharp laugh. " Need I continue? Vox is below someone such as you, Cher. I'm just being a good friend." He looked at you as he puthis red tipped fingers against his chest in a smug stance he took when he didn't wish to be pushed on a subject.

Friend.

Petals were clogging in your throught. You swallowed as hard as you could. It was impossible right? He was just worried that you would stop hanging around here. Stop paying attention to him. He couldn't be jealous in the way that you wanted him to be.

" You.... You .. " Your throat burned. Acrid ginger touched your tongue. " You're such an ass sometimes. " You storm past him and head for the elevator. You needed to get to your room and you didn't care if you got stuck in a metal box at this point.

" Y/N. " Alastor spoke up as you passed him. You felt fingers brushed against your shoulder as you stormed past.

You ignored him and held the coughs down as you got to the elevator. You slammed on the button and pushed it several times to close the door up. The doors slid shut and the box wiggled as it began to move up. You let out your first cough and then it felt like a dam broke at that moment. Petals fell with every little cough or scratch you tried to clear out of your throat. The taste of blood mixed with it and you felt your stomach clench tightly and painfully and you vomited. Red mixed with white petals and whole flowers fell into the ground of the elevator. You dug your nails down the door and leaned your forehead against the cold metal.

The elevator felt like it shook hard as it came to an abrupt stop, halfway between the third and fourth floor. Your eyes shot to the dial above the door.

Shit.

Shit.

Fuck you right?

taglist: @boldlyenchantingfox22 @sirens-and-moonflowers @phoephan-123 @girl-nahh-two @kerosene--lamp @l3rittany @lunamoonbby

[edenspoem]

can yoy do ellie massaging you after you've had a long day of work? (i love your fics btw)

⋆˚✿˖° literally eager to do it at every hour of the day. but after the utmost grueling hours of your day, she makes it her job to soothe you. well— provided that she sneaks in a couple (lie) neck kisses alongside those massages. love is a grandeur thing ellie cannot hold herself from, even in the most mundane moments. i guess. try to explain anything to her and she'll get distracted.

silky smooches are laid behind the caress of her fingers, trickling up your shoulders slowly. her hands are good in practice—but that dork has an affinity for distraction, an impulsive mouth. the question is: are you the object of her distraction, or is it her own brain? it particularly takes over in whispers puffed against your neck. “you wanna—” kiss. “tell me—” another kiss. “'bout your day? could use a distraction right now.” and another.

“are you sure you aren't already distracted?” quickly, a smart remark leaves your mouth. a spry use of tongue to masquerade those sighs of easement when her fingers press circles into the base of your neck. you feel her breath graze you, “psh— shut up,” and the heat of her 'shut up' brand into your skin. softened by a punctual kiss thereafter. “thats the point.”

you're unsure on why you even thought to ask, “you're such'a idiot.” because you could only sweep aside her stupid response and stretch your neck out for her; indulging. “'love that about you, though.” sneaking in a compliment, since you know how cherry-flushed they get her. such a sucker for love. “mhm?” ellie hums, warming it through a kiss to your jaw. “last time you talked me up about how smart i am. which is it, babe?” suddenly, her hands were defiant, and roamed your body where 'mundane massages' take place the least; pawing at the plush of your thigh so innocently (another lie), a knowing grin curling at your nape. “cuz' it can't be both..” the tip of her nose is pushing into you, poking for answer.

“i think you choose when to be smart n' when to be an idiot. idiot more often, obviously.” those knuckles bending and pressing into your thigh pause for a glance, followed up by an offended laugh from her, a brief snort coming from her nose. “obviously? obviously? you dick..” ellie is definitely blushing her ass off right now. but her hands resume almost instantaneously, and so do her antsy lips. knuckles flexing into your skin, lips nipping little wisps of skin and suckling.

ellie just couldn't handle being mean to you back—only spare kisses of forgiveness, and let you breathe in every compulsive grope of your thighs, hands making way across every inch of your body. cherishing the way you just melt into her palms. “that feel good? hmhm—know it does.” pride painting her lips at each mewl she can strum from you.

whoops got a little excited there at the end 💜 @/elliestattooo on pinterest for the pic.

[rahleeyah]

One of the things I do in my job is title work. I do research to see who owns a property. But it's a lot more than just finding the deed for the current owner. Where did the current owner get it? Where did the last guy get it? Were there any errors in the chain, did they describe the property correctly, did everybody who had an interest in the property sign that deed, or did somebody get left out? Did the property pass through an estate, and was that estate executed properly? Is there any chance an angry heir is gonna come out of the woodwork? Are there bank loans on the property? UCCs? Are the property taxes paid? Are there any federal tax liens against the owner? Are there any contractors? Is anybody suing the owner and if they are is the property involved? What companies have utility easements on the property, where are the easements? Does anybody else have an access easement? Are there dirt roads, or God forbid a grave on the property? Are there any tenants, is anybody farming it? If there are structures, houses or sheds or driveways or fences, are they all contained within the property? Do any of the neighbors' fences or what have you encroach on the property? Does the property have access to a road? Are there any declarations or restrictions, and what do they restrict, and are we cool with that?

Surveys are a hell of a lot more exact and reliable now than they were in the 50s, when my great grandfather walked off his property and subdivided it to give it to his children. He used his feet and some string. I've seen a property description that used the rotting bumper of an abandoned Chevy as a marker. If you start digging back into a chain you may find out the property you think you have isn't the shape or size you expected at all.

It's a lot!

So anyway for a long time the standard on title work was 30 years. You'd search the property back for thirty years, and the title company would say ok that's sufficient, we'll issue title insurance based on thirty years. Thirty is enough.

In the last decade, though, we've encountered a new problem.

30 years isn't enough anymore.

30 years ago today was Feb 1, 1995.

1995.

The vast majority of infrastructure work in this country - roads, telephone lines, power lines, water lines - was initially done from like the 1930s-1960s. The new deal, and then the post WW2 boom as we invested in our country and made way for the biggest generation in modern history.

Used to be, if you went 30 years back, you'd capture all that stuff. The easements from the DOT taking land to make highways. The utility easements.

Now 30 years barely gets you anything. In the wake of the civil rights movement, the old covenants people used to put in their deeds saying the property could never ever be sold to anyone who wasn't white weren't enforceable anymore and people started to get creative with their hate. The 80s and 90s started the HOA boom, all these carefully curated neighborhoods with their well drawn out restrictions that weren't explicitly racist but made it easy to chase out "undesirables" by fining them until they got tired of the harassment and left. There was a development boom, until the bubble burst in 2008. It's ramped back up, sort of, but a lot of the development work has already been done.

We have to go 60 years back now, to great grandaddy's estate, to when the city laid the water lines.

60 years ago was 1965. In another 5 years, a 60 year search will only go to 1970. That won't be enough, either. It won't be long until 80 is the standard.

The passage of time is a hell of a thing.

[dualityofartandreality]

the fallout

He laughs to himself, and it sounds like bubbles rolling up his throat. His focus is downcast – he looks self-aware to nearly a deprecating degree. It’s like he’s practiced this laugh a hundred times in front of a mirror, yet has still surprised himself with how organic it sounds. 

You don’t laugh in response to the glib comment he’s just made about the complicated situation you’re in at the moment. 

You’re both stood outside on the street, leaning against the backrest of a wooden bench. It’s quiet for a Saturday in July; not a single car has driven past in the last thirty minutes, and only one couple has walked by on their way into the restaurant a few metres away. The midday sun glares down on you, and you’re all too aware of the heat emanating from the black jeans you pulled on this morning, thinking they’d go nicely with the blouse you have on. You feel less confident that you’ve made a good decision now, overheating and restricted. You fidget with a wrinkle at your hip, smoothing it out with a small frown.

You’ve always been like this – a little bit unsure of what to say when your surroundings get quiet, nervous to be caught in a bout of silence. 

He’s the opposite. He revels in it. He closes his eyes and basks in it. He’s basking in it right now, but his eyes aren’t closed.

You know this, because when you glance up from the denim, he’s peering sideways at you, a still expression on his face. His palms lay flat on the top of the bench, on a narrow slat of wood. A cigarette sits between his pointer and middle fingers, and you pretend not to notice as ash falls from one end and disappears to dust on the gray cement below. His body language is relaxed. 

Your body language is the opposite. While his shoes point straight ahead, perpendicular to the road, your entire body is turned to face him. Your arms are crossed at your chest and the right side of your body finds friction against the curved backrest of the bench. 

Your eyes catch his, and he gives you a familiar half smile - a smile just on the side of his face that you can see. If someone stood on his other side and watched carefully, it might have looked like his mouth never waned from its cool, straight line. 

Across the street, a toddler’s laugh breaks the silence and cuts through the moment. She’s got a pink bucket hat on and it tips forward over her eyes as she squirms in her dad’s arms while he steps outside of a shop. 

Your head turns, attention caught on the family on the other side of the road. You’re happy to have found a distraction. Your face impulsively stretches into a smile and you hear a breathy laugh beside you. 

Your head turns again, and your attention instinctively focuses on the man sitting - leaning - next to you. Matty’s gaze is on the child across the street. He’s delighted. You catch a full smile from him this time, lips pulled taut across his teeth, crinkles folded into the corners of his eyes.

You haven’t seen this smile in weeks. You miss this smile, and you miss him.

A woman who must be the child’s mother follows closely behind, wheeling a pram to a stop on the pavement. She bends down and a sippy cup materializes. She hands it to her daughter who’s held against her dad’s chest. You watch, engaged, as the man twists away from the child to say something in the woman’s ear; she laughs lightly and shakes her head, eyes rolling humourously.

You think about what it would be like to be the one gripping the curved foam of the handles, reaching into the lower part of a carriage for a snack to feed your fussy child, exchanging inside jokes with your partner.

Intimate. The scenario seems so out of reach now, but that doesn’t stop it from providing a brief feeling of easement.

You turn to find Matty gazing at the family with an expression that must have mirrored yours mere moments earlier. You know how important family is to him, and how important having a family of his own is to him. Your future together was something that the pair of you were always on the exact same page about. 

The baby is facing the two of you now and, although a road and a sidewalk lies between her and Matty, she waves at him.

He lifts his arm, hinged at the elbow and bends his fingers down in return.

She’s waving at you now, a big smile stretching across her face. You smile at her sweetness, and wave back. Soon, both of you are pulling silly faces at the baby, and she’s giggling happily. 

It’s moments like these that kept you two together near the end. The comfort in being a couple. The comfort in thinking about what your future could look like if you would just stay together. 

Her mum notices then and smiles warmly at the two of you. You’re suddenly aware of the image that the two of you must give off: a happy couple enjoying July sunshine. 

Happy. Couple. The words, together, were true once.

“They’re so happy,” you say, mindlessly.

“And we’re not?” he replies immediately. The cigarette between his lips muffles the consonants, forcing a soft sound onto his words.

His response startles you, and you quickly settle back into your body, resuming sensation of the hot sun beating down on you, sweat starting to accumulate at the bridge of your nose, gaze sliding over to Matty. Reality hits.

“We’re not,” you say, with a small shake of your head, “but we were. Don’t you remember?”

That last sentence is intentionally worded. You said it, verbatim, during the argument the night you ended your relationship, a week ago.

You’re sure he does remember. 

He turns to face you now. Any trace of a smile that was on his face from admiring the baby across the road is gone. He drops his cigarette onto the pavement, stamps it out, and wipes his fingers on his trousers.

“You know that I do.” Scenes of laughs shared over dinner about childhood anecdotes and kisses in exchange for coffee delivered in bed play on your mind.

“Then why ask?” You feel like you’re talking in circles.

This breakup had been in the works for months. Mostly on and off, but more frequently off than on in the weeks approaching. It took you, beaten down after a long day of work and realizing your discomfort in your own home, to understand how tired of the relationship you were. Matty was home, and you had tried to settle down, but you couldn’t stop the fighting words from spilling out of your mouth. It took hours of talking and shouting and crying into the next morning to finally agree that the best thing you could do for each other was to break up. 

Neither of you could go sleep on a friend’s couch, afraid that it would make today’s lie difficult, so you’d both been staying in your shared apartment, careful to give the other plenty of space.

Now, you’re stood out here on the hot pavement, the smell of cigarette smoke hovering in the air, uncomfortable in your choice of outfit, engaged in tense conversation with your ex. 

What had initially been a ploy to trick your brunchmates – his bandmembers – into believing you were still together in order to not take away from a surely special event (a certain drummer’s engagement) had turned into a taxing state of affairs for you both.

This tiff was just the icing on the cake to an already bad morning. First, Matty had not come home from the studio until late last night, waking you up at three o’clock by banging around the apartment before going to bed. Then, you'd had to pound frantically on his door to wake him up after he slept through his alarm, leaving the house 30 mins later than planned, to drive across the city for brunch, only to find that you’d read George’s text wrong and were nearly an entire hour early. Ergo, the standing and conversing and domestic thoughts.

You almost want to tell him how tough the past week has been, having to exist so close to him every day without being able to let yourself fall into your old routine. You open your mouth to speak, three obvious, revealing words on the tip of your tongue – but here George and Charli came, walking down the street, hand-in-hand. 

You and Matty seem to notice the soon-to-be-engaged pair at the same time, each straightening up, plastering pleasant expressions on, and inching your bodies closer together, desperate to sell the bit.

[offworldlamb-writes]

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don't be shy and share anyway! 

I don't do so much fanfic, but thank you @tinknevertalks for the tag anyway 😊 you'll get 3(?) fanfic and 7 og first now.

1: In Ruins (Final Fantasy IX)

He didn't have long left. He knew that-- it'd been at the forefront of his thoughts for a while now, thanks to Garland, and yet...

2: The View From The Farm (Stardew Valley)

Not a lot of thought went into the veg that started appearing in the kitchen. There was nothing new about that-- the kitchen was usually at least partly stocked with fresh food, but it was hard to miss the fine layer of dirt on everything as the basket holding it all sat on the counter, filling the air with the smell of wet earth. Abby's dad sold veg but they were never that fresh, and with a cup of coffee in hand it didn't cross his mind again until the next basket turned up the following week.

3: We've Done Worse (Stardew Valley)

Watching the dice roll and bounce against his screen Sebastian soon had his head held miserably in his hand. "Another fail?" "Another fail," he sighed in response to Sam, rolling for damage instead. They weren't even at the final boss of the dungeon-- this was boss two out of five, if he remembered correctly, and things were not going great for them. Abigail was at death's door and his own character was down to his last two spells: Sam was doing great, considering the situation, but it didn't help them much right now.

4: Aftertales (Tales of Symphonia but like 10+ years old by now...)

Luin, named after its constant resolve to be rebuilt after any great disaster, was always a fairly prosperous town. Because of its proximity to the once popular Tower of Mana attracted a lot of tourist attention, and being built across Lake Sinoa helped bring in trade as a fish market. The people were pleasant, the views were breathtaking, and there was usually a warm welcome there for anyone who happened across it.

5: The Runaway Princess (og fic)

Nothing much changed when she ran away. She didn't know what she expected, but a bounty and eventual 'Missing: Presumed Dead' announcement wasn't it, though the disappointment faded over the years. All political agendas failed to bother her after some time, a gentle easement for her soul as she relaxed into the woodlands, letting the roots and the leaves dig deep until she didn't feel at home unless she was there.

6: 3Kingdoms - Journey's End (og fic based in Aftertales)

Lilla always saw Keet as a wanderer. They met so often in strange places, each one so far apart from the last, and he always looked so at home wherever he was. It's what he'd done for centuries and she didn't expect him to do anything differently now that his immortality was gone, so his offer to return with her to Mirgyscar was a nice surprise.

7. Everlongs - One Dark Night... (og fic)

For the past few days his behaviour had seemed… off. They'd been travelling for maybe three months now, give or take a few days, trying to find out what they could about the strange doll and whoever had sent it. And it felt like they'd made great headway recently as they started veering back into Welsh territory, coming back towards the old house Layton visited back when they'd first met. But then one night she woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed.

8. The Runaway Princess - I Saw Your Eyes Light Up

Glesni's excitement was a big part of why she changed her mind. With the knowledge that 'Princess Cerdiwen' was alive and actively helping Tilwyth's heir spreading through all the guests like weeds she knew she had to get control of the narrative, make sure no one had the wrong idea, but the only way to do that was to go out amongst them. But not as Ceridwen. That would never happen: for all intents and purposes the Princess was dead and absolutely not coming back, but she wasn't the one that'd helped Kane and Alister for the past six month. That was all on Awen, and she was dead set on making sure that was well known.

9. 3Kingdoms - Keet's Operation

She did as he'd asked and told Annik at the end of the day she wouldn't be taking any clients while he was in surgery, and was woken up the next morning by a shake to the shoulder, a large pot of coffee and some breakfast. He felt unusually keen, unable to sit still for more than five minutes and pacing back and forth, checking constantly through the window out at the darkened street. She didn't take him as the nervous sort but this didn't feel like it was about the operation, and when she asked what was bothering him he'd dismiss her with a weak smile and a shake of his head, mumbling something about the approaching storm.

10. 3Kingdoms - Steluta's Operation

Rhosoare kept Stluta company day and night, and with no way to help beyond a little advice on MET-limbs Lilla found herself at a loose end very quickly, sitting outside the recovery room more often than inside and getting more and more frustrated. The first little walk she took to calm her nerves didn't help much: she spent every step feeling nauseated with shame for leaving Luta, until she arrived back and realised that no one even noticed she'd left. A gentle knock on the door and Rhosoare answered and asked if everything was alright, mentioning that Steluta was still asleep for now, before closing the door again when there was nothing more to share. After that Lilla was gone a little longer, and by the third day she was out in the city proper, completely disconnected from everything happening back at the clinic.

Should I write more fanfic? Probably. Will I? Lol idk 🤷‍♂️

@stormyrainyday I know YOU have been writing fanfic 👀

[valuationproperty34]

Understanding Easements And Rights Of Way: Key Concepts For Property Owners

Understanding the legal terms and conditions associated with land use is crucial when it comes to property ownership. Two such concepts often arise are easements and rights of way. These terms are commonly encountered in real estate transactions, and they play a significant role in determining how a property can be used. This article will explore what easements and rights of way are, why they matter, and how they can affect property owners.

[newdruid]

Granddaughter of a midwest Cattle farmer here, Sharing what my grandaddy is going through.

Grandaddy's had a handshake agreement that stood for 50 years, with the old man across the way, they agreed it's all right for Grandaddy's cows to use the easement through the old man's property to get to the back pasture. Well, old man across the way passed away, and his young buck son hired a wet behind the ears realtor to sell the property.

Grandaddy approached the young buck son and the wet behind the ears realtor and asked if he could buy the acre and a half he's been using - for 50 years - to get the cows to the back pasture. Grandaddy explained the agreement he'd had with the old man, and how he was willing to buy that acre and a half outright in cash from his pension (union sprinkler fitter for over 40 years), but the realtor said "Absolutely not, we'll be selling the property as one piece and you won't be able to have access anymore, starting immediately."

Grandaddy didn't take too kindly to that and called a lawyer, who told him he couldn't help my Grandaddy due to conflict of interest, only after Grandaddy had already explained everything to him.

So Grandaddy found another lawyer, who heard what Grandaddy had to say, and said "50 years huh? Don't worry old man, they'll be lucky if we don't just take that land from 'em."

So the good lawyer, approached the asshole lawyer and the wet behind the ears realtor, and from what I understand the conversation basically went: "Hey you guys are fucked," followed by "ah, indeed, we may be fucked," from the realtor and asshole lawyer.

The realtor and the asshole lawyer then returned to my grandaddy and said "wait, we can actually sell you this piece of the property with these conditions. It must stay agricultural land forever and - blah blah"

But Grandaddy and his lawyer told them to kick rocks. So now, we wait.

[stephensmithuk]

The Hound of the Baskervilles: First Report of Dr. Watson

Watson's letters would have likely reached Baker Street the following day by the overnight mail trains that ran from Exeter to London.

Dartmoor contains the largest concentration of Bronze Age remains in the UK; the prehistoric settlers were more farmers and livestock grazers than hunters though.

It's generally not a good idea to eat raw lamb; lamb tartare is a thing, but generally needs to be prepared well.

A groom is a person responsible for looking after horses and/or their stables. The etymology is different from bridegroom.

A tor in this context is a free-standing rock formation, created as a result of erosion of the land around it.

In England and Wales, rights of way only exist where they have been designated or can be designated. Private landlords can designate easements through their land as rights of way. It's a rather complex subject, not helped by the fact that the "definitive maps" might be rather old (1971 in the case of Havering):

Choleric means "bad-tempered"; it comes for the humour theory of medicine, where choler is yellow bile or stomach acid. Too much yellow bile makes you bad tempered. It also makes other people bad-tempered when you've had too much to drink and vomit it over someone's shop entrance.

Dartmoor's remoteness and lack of light pollution make it a good spot for astronomy.

Exhumation from a known grave today requires permission from the Ministry of Justice and usually some other people like the cemetry owner. It certainly needed permission in 1889, but I am not sure how that applied to a barrow in unconsecrated ground.

A box-room is a very small room used for storage or a bedroom.

One assumes Barrymore was using a candle holder of some form as otherwise, that's a good way to get hot wax on your hand...

[abarbaricyalp]

Tell It to the Bees (and the birds)

Hi all! This is my beekeeper!Bucky birdkeeper!Sam meet ugly neighbors au. I am so enamored of this little story and I hope you like reading it as much as I liked writing it! There's a second snippet here as well

The way onto the roof was extremely inaccessible. Bucky was only missing an arm and could barely manage it, much less if someone was in a wheelchair or had muscle issues. Apparently the building had once housed families and, back before ADA laws, the building manager had decided cordoning off access to the roof was safer than trusting kids not to go up to it. So, every few days, Bucky had to clamber his way into a discharge closet that was barely wide enough for his shoulders, climb up a ladder he swore inclined past a 90 degree angle, shove open a hatch door that weighed more than a small child, and then lift himself onto the roof. He hadn’t figured out how to manage it without his prosthetic arm on and he was about two more attempts away from suing for access. The only thing stopping him was that he didn’t know how much weight the “Roof Access Strictly Prohibited” sign actually had.

But it was all worth it once Bucky got outside. He was not the first tenant to utilize the roof. In fact, he’d inherited his current raison du climb from one of his neighbors after he found her hard at work on it one day. When she left to move in with one of her children, she left it to Bucky to maintain.

“Guys, you will not believe what Leo said at group today,” he greeted as he walked across the roof. In the middle of the roof, far enough away from the HVAC vents and under a shade tarp that had seen better days and less extreme summers and winters, a small wooden beehive waited for him. The bees were always buzzing, but Bucky liked to think they got louder when they heard his voice.

“He clearly focused all of the topics on me and made sure to get a dig in about how group can’t help if not everyone wanted to be a group. That’s ridiculous, right? I mean, I totally consider myself part of the group. Just because I don’t talk doesn’t mean I’m not present.”

He sat down in the small wooden slatted chair that was half as comfortable as it should be but leagues above the metal folding chair. Especially in the summer. The hive was, apparently, typical sized: three boxes tall and Bucky was only allowed to mess with one of them, the honey super, it was called. One was for the bees themselves and the other was for the eggs and maturation of new bees. Each box had a glass fronting, so he got to see inside sometimes, depending on how they built the combs that year. It also probably meant that someone smarter than him could guess how many bees were in it at which point of the year, but Bucky hadn’t gotten around to memorizing all the facts and figures yet. Melinda had taught him everything about caring for them–“We maintain them, we don’t keep them”–but what Bucky knew, he knew by muscle memory, not logical thought. Now, they were just coming out of their winter easement and the lower box was full of eggs and pupae.

Mostly what Bucky and Melinda used it for–other than an ever full donation crate of honey and beeswax–was less the maintaining of the bees and more the telling of the bees. The first time Bucky had come up to the roof–after ignoring many dubious signs–was a day where he just needed to find some quiet from the noise in his head. What he found was an older woman speaking in soft dulcet tones about what fools her children were. When Bucky tracked her voice down, he found her talking to a very large beehive. And that was that. He was hooked.

Bucky had been in a dozen kinds of therapies since he’d gotten medically discharged from the army, but nothing felt the same as talking to the bees. Nothing felt as real or as safe as this.

The bees didn’t argue with him. They never did. A few flew out to greet him, buzzed around his head until they were sure he only smelt like a flower but wasn’t one. He waited patiently to pass muster before he pulled a small water bottle from his bag and poured some into his palm. It was Melinda’s sugar water concoction and the bees loved it. He wasn’t supposed to give it to them too often. He tried to limit himself to once a week. But the bees got so excited over it and he loved the way they felt walking over his hand.

A few bees had braved him to come crawl over his palm and drink the sugar and Bucky was just beginning to relax into this lovely moment when a massive hawk suddenly dove at them. Bucky made an unbecomingly high pitched screech and went sprawling backwards in the chair. The bird squawked back and startled into the air. The bees droned a frenzied buzz and disappeared.

From flat on his back, Bucky stared into the sky and wondered what the hell had just happened. His shoulder ached from where his prosthesis had jared into the skin and the air was failing to come back into his lungs. Also, he was having entirely too vivid day-terrors of his eyes being plucked out by a razor sharp beak.

The hawk circled around in the air some twenty feet higher and then swooped a little closer and glided around the HVAC system to the far side of the roof. Bucky kicked himself free of the chair and checked to make sure there were no wounded bees on the ground around him before following the bird.

Since Melinda had left, Bucky had rarely seen anyone, or anything, else up on the roof. Occasionally someone braved the absurd ladder and door, usually young people with friends, but it had been pretty quiet for the most part. So he was more than surprised to come around the HVAC to find an entire bird coop constructed and well maintained.

Granted, it had been a while since Bucky had explored other parts of the roof. It was a large complex and the roof was littered with curbs and dips and trash, so it was safer to just sit next to his bees and then go back inside. But he was certain there had been no bird coop on the roof at any point recently.

Casting a glance around before he could give further fodder to his neighbors that he was a few crayons short of a box, he leaned forward and smelled the wood of the coop. Like he expected, it was fresh. So who the hell had been up here? And how hadn’t Bucky noticed? How hadn’t the bees noticed? They hadn’t expressed any agitation. 

Within the coop, a variety of birds cooed at him and shuffled around with a scraping of talons and ruffling of feathers. It was mostly pigeons but there were a few crows, a few colorful birds, a few finches. The hawk that had swooped down at Bucky was sitting outside of the coop, on a fake branch. It stared at him in an entirely too judgemental way. When it tilted its head at Bucky, Bucky tilted his back. The bird ruffled its feathers and turned around on the branch. Bucky turned around too.

[kingoftheu]

Welcome to Hopping Over the Bar where I keep myself accountable/sane by rewatching Amphibia while studying for the bar. If I ever miss a daily edition please feel free to @ or DM me to remind me to study!

Today was Real Property. We did some stuff on Mortgages, Deeds, Easements, Water Rights, Covenants. Big ol' round up.

Today I watched Toad Tax and Prison Break. Obviously two great episodes serving as our midseason finale for Season 1. Anne stands up for the town, our first hints of a wider issue. And of course our introduction to Toad Tower, Grime, and Sasha. Its a great dynamic from the start, Sasha helps us understand a lot about Anne, although I found her less "obviously evil" than I did on prior watchthroughs.

Connection: Look, it's been a long study day. You do have a right to refuse entry to your property, otherwise its trespass. But when its a Government agent not really. Uhhh…Wally takes a bath. Did you know the Western and Eastern United States have different Water Rights systems. In the east anyone whos property touches the water has a right to reasonable use of the water, so long as it doesn't interfere with other owners. In the west its strictly first to divert the water for a beneficial purpose gets rights to that amount of water and then the next person and then the next, going way back to the Spanish days.

[crispy-buddies-bakery]

Kagami smiled weakly at Elaine's comment before Elaine had walked off. He started rubbing the back of the neck in embarrassment. 'Yeah, that is kind of naive and wishful thinking, wasn't it? Even if I really wanted the cookies to be safe after all this time, that would be way too easy...' he muttered to nobody in particular. Kagami's cookies took notice, but Zephyros was already petting Kagami's head already.

Kagami's Sugar Swan is now mediating the discussion among the group of Sugar Swans.

On the other hand, Zephyros has typed in 'conversation easement application form' upon Elizabeth's mentioning of it into Ame's phone and is showing it to Ame.

'Right, um... Can I borrow a printer, some paper, ink, and a pen for the time being? It looks like the discussion might take a while, so I should get on with filling the forms...' Kagami finally asked Elizabeth.

Ame sighed and sat back down. He seems to have mumbled something under his breath that only Zephyros can pick up, leaving the words 'good enough' slightly audible to Elizabeth. Whatever it was, it seemed to have concerned Zephyros enough pet Ame's head more, and for Ame's cookies to start moving onto his lap.

Ame's hand started absentmindedly petting his cookies, clearly contemplating something he refuses to say out loud to the bakery's employees.

*Elizabeth raise a brow at Ame's contemplation but didn't pressed on it as she merely pointed to the back of the counter where the Bakery's computer is*

"We have a printer beside our computer and some pens just below inside the drawer"

*Chiron also joined in the discussion with the sugar swans, offering any advice to those with questions about either staying in the shop or being taken somewhere else either to the forest or the sanctuary*