#Flip This House

[fixandflippers]

Fix And Flippers

Fix and Flippers are always looking for investors for trust deed investments.They work with individuals, corporations, pension plans, or IRAs. They are experts at matching private investor funds with low risk, high yield, secured by a hard asset and solid loan opportunities. They have solid systems in place that allow investors to earn between 8%-13% per annum, compared to the low-interest rates currently being offered by banks. Fix and Flippers has developed a relationship with many such brokers, mortgage companies, and lenders worthy of a referral.These lenders and mortgage companies have many years in the business and have vetted for their reputations as closers and being a preferred lender among the industries elite. Their referral sources are loyal and provide steady repeat business that affords them an overflow of business.

[senseearly]

What a 1-on-1 fight between Mithrun and the demon wouldve looked like:

[choccy-milky]

modern AU seb and clora's first interaction 📘📗 (and by modern AU i actually mean super trope-filled high school romance set in the 80's/90's LOL)

[snkskyler15]

[hometoursandotherstuff]

That is the case with this Craftsman remodel.

Cute craftsman needs to be rehabbed.

And, this is what it got. Unrecognizable.

[eraenaa]

Flipped

Inspired by the Movie Flipped

Aemond Targaryen X Reader Tag List

Synopsis: You had been infatuated with Aemond since you two were children. You could not remember a day when you did not feel anything but adoration for him— not until recently. When something in you turned indifferent, it did not go unnoticed by Aemond, who had never been a fan of change. 

Warnings: Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Female Masturbation, Unrequited Love (kinda), Not Proof Read

Word Count: 3,906

It felt odd. You thought. For the first time in years, you strayed away from your routines and quirks. It was unsettling. You felt anxious that this change would bring forth something dreadful. But a bigger part of you felt exhilarated at this change. Because for the first time in years, your immediate thought was not Aemond. Your mind was not preoccupied with the thought of him— was free of wishful thinking that today would be the day that he’d have a change of heart and finally want you as you had wanted him ever since the both of you were five years old. 

It has been thirteen years now since the both of you have met. And ever since then, you practically spent every single day with him. He was your neighbor, one of the sons of your mother’s dearest friends, your classmate. Every day was practically spent with him— even weekends, there would be a reason for you two to unite. May it be for joint family dinners or when your mothers would take you on excursions. Every moment was spent with him, and every moment that passed was spent adoring him— loving him. But not anymore. 

“Are you ready? They’re almost here!” Your mother called from downstairs. It was that time of the week again. It was time for your family to have dinner with the Targaryens. For the longest time, your families have been spending every Sunday dinner together. Before, you were excited and giddy over the meal because it meant you would see Aemond—that you would start the new week in his presence. Your heart would always spike in excitement; your lips would always bloom into a smile in anticipation. But now, you felt none of it. It was odd; the prospect of seeing and spending time with Aemond would always bring a specific feeling of giddiness in you. But now, it was absent. All you felt was indifference. You somehow felt relieved at that. You relished at the feeling of your heart not beating erratically, that the butterflies in your stomach were absent. You felt at ease when you did not have to hold yourself to a standard that you had set long before, just in hopes he would notice you. You did not have to overthink what you would wear. Not fret over what style you would fix your hair. You simply had to be there and not trip over yourself trying to impress and catch the attention of a boy who was never willing to give it. 

You descended down the staircase of your home, your parents greeting the Targaryens in the foyer. “Oh, look at you! You grow prettier every week!” Alicent gushed and went to kiss your cheek; you smiled and complimented your mother’s friend as well. Aemond frowned as you backed away, moving yourself partly behind your parents. Usually, as they came, you would rush over to his side— eagerly trying to chat with him. But now, you did not even spare him a glance. Odd. He thought. 

Your families made their way towards the dining room. You wanted to grin at yourself as you did not have the wanting urge to look at Aemond— no longer desperate to acquire a seat next to him. Instead, you situated yourself between your mother and his sister Helaena. You were chatting with the girl instead of her brother. Aemond felt an odd twisting in his stomach as you took a seat that was not next to him. You always sat next to him. You were insistent on sitting next to him— before, you even fought with his older brother for the seat just so that you would be beside him. Why did you relinquish your spot next to him now?

Aemond watched you through the entirety of the dinner. Before, he would always feel your eyes upon him, always sneaking a glance. It was odd not to have your gaze on him. It was a feeling he did not care for. It felt like something was missing. 

As they were leaving, Aemond watched as you said your goodbyes to his siblings, but not him. Aegon, who you usually quarreled with, shared more than one laugh with you tonight. Everything felt wrong. Aemond thought. This was not what he was used to; this was not a situation he was accustomed to. Everything felt different. As if there was a shift in you that made you… not you. 

“She’s different tonight,” Helaena mumbled as they walked back home— yours and Aemond’s houses just across from each other. “She is,” Aegon agreed. “But I quite like her like this,” Aegon added. Aemond didn’t. There was a pestering feeling that followed him throughout the week. He thought that dinner was just a fluke— that you perhaps did not feel well that night, which is why you did not acknowledge him. But as you two where in school, your used to be constant presence near him was nowhere to be found. Aemond did not realize it, but there was fear trickling inside him. Aemond did not want to acknowledge it, but he was missing you.

You always used to sit behind him in class, and he would feel your stare at the back of his head; you switched places now and moved to the front. 

You used to always offer him gum after lunch, knowing he hated the way the taste of cafeteria food would linger on his tongue; that stick of gum was now given to your other friends. 

You would always ask him to walk home together, recalling your day as the two of you did; you walked home alone and in silence now. 

Sunday dinner was fast to approach once more. It was the Targaryen’s turn to host, and you walked with your parents to their house. “Welcome! Come in, come in,” Alicent smiled warmly as her children stood behind her and welcomed you and your family to their home. “Hi,” You hear Aemond greet— never once had he greeted you first. You turn to him, giving him a sparing glance and a small smile before turning your focus to his other siblings, walking away from where he stood. Aemond gritted his teeth as he felt a clench in his heart when you walked away without even a word. What was this? Why were you doing this? Why was he feeling like this? Why does his stomach pit when he watches you converse and laugh with others who are not him? Why does his skin crawl with the thought that you no longer hold want for him? It’s impossible, right? You could never not want him— you have always wanted him. But now, why did you act like you didn’t? Are you playing a game? Are you trying to administer to him the same coldness and indifference he always showed you?

Aemond took his seat— a chair beside yours, slyly scooting closer to you to make his presence known. Maybe it would make you turn to him and set your gaze upon him once more. It didn’t. 

“So, you two are off to University soon. Have you chosen which one to attend?” Alicent asked you as the dinner proceeded. You lick your lips. Before, you were entirely certain that you would attend any University just as long as it was the same as Aemond’s. “I was thinking of going abroad for Uni,” You smile but Alicent was partly shocked by your statement. “Really?” She asked. You felt Aemond’s persistent stare, “Yes, I thought it would be a nice change of pace— something different,” You replied. “You’re fine with her going alone?” Alicent asked your mother. “Oh, she was telling us that she has a classmate that might join her—“ 

“Who?” Aemond asked, a deep furrow in his brow. His hand reaches for your arm, urging you to turn to him. “Jace, he told me all about the programs and introduced me to the different Universities with my desired course,” You quickly explained. You stared at Aemond’s hand clasped upon your arm. Before, it would elicit gooseflesh and an exciting tingle on your skin— now, it mostly just hurts as his grip was tight and punishing.

You try to steal your arm away, your hand moving and trying to remove his hold on you, but he does not let go. “Aemond,” You called, voice cold and harsh as you were growing hurt and annoyed by his tight hold. Aemond’s frown deepened if it were possible. You never used to address him with such a tone. You would always call out his name so soft and sweetly— your voice always held a pitch of excitement when speaking with him. It was completely gone now. 

“I need to talk to you,” Aemond dipped down and whispered in your ear as you stood by your locker. You were ready to deny him and step away, but he dragged you through the hallways and into an empty classroom. “Why?” You asked. You were looking up at him with a slightly annoyed expression. “Why are you acting like this? What are you doing?” He demanded, eye growing wider in anger with each passing moment as he recalled how you ignored him the entire week. 

“Acting like what?” You asked, confused by his accusing tone and anger. You expectantly waited for his reply, but his mouth opened and closed without words being uttered. You shake your head and try to pry away his hold on you once more. “Aemond, I don’t want to like you anymore,” You explain as you realize what his unuttered question was. Exchanging a word to something less extreme because you know in yourself you did not want to admit the fact that you loved him since you were seven. 

You feel his hold grow tighter as you utter the words. “I’m done… I have been chasing after you for years. I have been so desperate just for even a sliver of your attention— I don’t want to be that person anymore. I don’t want to waste my time on someone who clearly feels indifferent to me— who lets me run around acting so pathetic just for them. I don’t want to follow you around like a lost pup; I’m never going to do that to myself again,” You say clearly and manage to remove his hold on you. Watching as the anger in his eye turned into shock and, dare you say, hurt. 

“I apologize if I have pestered you with… with this for years on end. I’m truly sorry if I have made you feel you feel uncomfortable with my persistence in making you notice me. I’m done now, I—“ Words were not finished as you felt him take hold of your waist and smash your lips. Your eyes grew wide with the realization, pushing him away as you were shocked by his action. You felt your heart pit by his actions. You used to imagine kissing him— wishing on it every chance you got that he would be your first kiss. It was your dream, but now you were mortified. You knew why he did it— assuming he kissed you as an attempt to keep your affections toward him intact. For you to stay and be the desperate girl in want for him. 

You gaze at each other in shock and outrage, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “You’re being cruel,” you say before running out of the classroom. Aemond stood there, unmoving, as he tried to process what he had done. Was he being cruel? Kissing you and only showing affection that he was intent on hiding because he felt that he was losing you. Was it cruel for him to keep his hold on you? Was it cruel to have you think of nothing but him— to be wholly consumed by him like it has always been? Aemond shook his head. That was not cruelty. It was reality. The reality that you have and will always be his. Be by his side. Have you by his side constantly. Have you dote on him and be the only thought in your pretty head. Aemond threaded the halls in haste, trying to find you. Ready to utter what he had never said nor showed. A desperate attempt to keep you by him because he did not have the faintest idea of how to proceed with life if you were not there. If you, the only constant in his life, would leave. 

You rushed home after what had transpired in school. You were wholly disheartened by Aemond. How could he do such a thing? How could he be so insensitive and selfish to let you dangle on a fraying thread of hope that he would finally reciprocate your feelings? All of it was cruel. It was cruel for him to kiss you when you were finally letting go of the ludicrous dream of the two of you coming together. It was cruel of him to act as such when you finally decided to focus on something else but him.

 You locked yourself in your room. You were trying to drown your thoughts in music and willed yourself not to let tears stream down your face. You’ve already shed enough of your precious pearl tears for him. You sat on your bed dejectedly. Blankly staring at your diary with the entries you’ve written that made you cringed as you wrote of Aemond in a sickeningly sweetened tone. You wrote about him as if he were god himself, as if he were the highest and most honorable of men— completely blinded as your young heart was filled with an utter infatuation with him. Infatuation you could never understand but just simply accepted. 

Aemond was far from perfect, but you acted as if he were. Adored and stood by him even when his flaws shone through. Aemond knew no one would accept him the way you do— that he would never find anyone like you, which is why he scaled the walls of your home and climbed toward your balcony. He was balancing and clinging to vines, risking the fall just in hopes of speaking and explaining all to you. 

Aemond knocked on the glass doors that led to your balcony, watching as you lay on your bed, blankly staring at the ceiling. He knocked louder, your head moving towards the right and your eyes locking with his. He silently pleaded for you to let him in, but all you could do was gape at him with shock and confusion. You walked toward the door, and Aemond tried hard to ignore the fact that you were only in your nightie, the silk thin and the lace see-through. “Go away,” you urged, but Aemond shook his head. “Open the door,” He grasped the handle and shook it. “Please,” he added as you shook your head. 

“Leave, Aemond,” You said and moved to untie our curtain to hide the view of your room from him. Aemond called your name, pleading with you to let him. You bit your lip as you realized that your body acted without the consent of your mind, moving to unlock the glass door and welcoming him in the privy of your room. “What do you want?” You asked with a heavy sigh, disheartened with your unconscious self as you let him enter your room. “I wanted to apologize… about earlier; you must understand that I did not kiss you to be cruel,” He said, and you rolled your eyes. A scoff leaves your lips. 

“Do not lie— I can see right through this… this act. You only did that because you want me desperate— you want to keep me so someone would worship the ground you walk upon.” You said bitterly. Aemond frowned and furiously shook his head and denied your accusation. “Stop lying! If it were any other time— maybe I would buy into your deceit. But Aemond, you only act as such in a desperate attempt because you see that I’m finally moving on from you— that I’m threading far from the little girl who did nothing but follow you around like a lost pup!” You screamed, the tears returning and daring to slip your eyes. 

Aemond called your name and shook his head. He moved to step closer, flushing your bodies close and cupping your cheeks with his cold hands. “That is not true,” he stated firmly. But you stubbornly shook your head. “I want you, " he added, his voice sincere, making you close your eyes in restraint. You could not believe what he said. “Stop lying, I—“ Aemond kissed your lips shut. You resisted. You fought hard not to enjoy the feel and taste of his lips. To forget that this simple act was your dream ever since you two were children. Aemond smirked against your lips as you relinquished your resistance, and you started to kiss him back. It was adorable how uncertain you were— how your lips would stagger and second-guess their movements. 

Aemond cupped your cheeks and held tightly onto your waist, moving you to lie on your bed and opening your kiss. He did not miss the hesitancy in your steps nor the shocked gasps coming from your lips. When you pulled away for a breath, Aemond’s lips instead found your neck—placing open-mouth kisses and inhaling your scent deeply. You bit your lip to prevent the sound of pleasure that wanted to be released as he nipped at your neck and groaned at your scent. Aemond could not believe nor explain how he had managed to control himself all these years, how he had managed to keep you at arm's length and a respectable distance in fear that if he gave into his wants. Guilt shaming him to take and be close to you because if he did, he knew he’d ruin you. But all the skepticism in him faded away with each moment he had you flushed against him, your skin meeting his, your lips kissing his. 

“Aemond,” You mewled as you felt his hand caress the exposed skin of your thigh. Only now did you grow aware of what you wore and what both of your actions would eventually lead to. You tightly closed your eyes as Aemond’s lips trailed down from your neck and then to your chest, his breath fanning your exposed skin, leaving gooseflesh to scatter all over your body. “Say you want me… tell me you want me still,” Aemond almost pleaded, placing a ghost of a kiss in the middle of the valley of your tits. You swallowed thickly as his hand continued to caress upward your thigh, and his lips grazed your flesh. 

Aemond felt his stomach pitting with each passing moment that you uttered no word. You took in a harsh breath as Aemond’s hand squeezed the plush flesh of your thighs, urging you to spill the words that were instilled years before. “I want you, always you.” You breathed out but were quick to inhale sharply as Aemond yanked the fabric of your nightwear downward to expose your chest, his lips closing on the taut bud whilst his other hand went to cup your needing sex. Aemond tensed as a sound of pleasure finally left your lips and how your hips grounded against his hand. 

Aemond traced circles with his tongue as he teased your tits. He was alternating from one to the other, nipping at it every now and then because it would elicit a whine from your throat. His fingers drew circles against your cloth-covered cunt, your wetness seeping through the fabric, and only encouraged Aemond as he felt how you truly wanted him. Aemond simply hummed as you called for his name, urging him for more. “First, tell me…have you ever pleasured yourself with the wanting thought that one day, it would be me?” Your eyes widened at his question. You feel him shift his weight off you, his warmness leaving you cold and exposed. “Answer,” He urged as he stood by the foot of your bed, watching you as you lay disheveled and exposed. 

“Aemond, I d—“ He shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Do you want more? Do you want me to pleasure you throughout the night? Do you wish to be mine?” Aemond’s voice was deep and clouded by impatience. You clenched your jaw and surrendered any pride left in you. “Yes… I touch myself with the thought of you.” You answered, watching a smirk place itself on his lips. “Show me,” He ordered. 

Aemond clenched his jaw as you did what he asked without hesitation. Your fingers danced on your cunt, drawing circles upon your needing sex whilst your other hand played with your tit. Sighs of pleasure left your lips whilst you tilted your head to the heavens. Aemond began to remove his clothing, his eye dark as your head moved to watch him as he unzipped his trousers. Not missing the way your eyes widened then rolled back as you were met with his length, already pleasured by the sight of it even though it had not touched you yet. 

When you made another sound of pleasure, one more urgent as if signifying you were close to climax, Aemond moved your hand away, wanting for him to be the reason why you came that night. You whined, but Aemond once again kissed your lips shut. His hand moved aside the cloth that covered your cunt and positioned himself for the taking. Your breath shallowed as he slowly pushed himself in you. Your hands clinging and digging into his shoulder blades as you were succumbed to pain of having his large and thick manhood tear its way through you. Aemond hushed you and kissed your lips once more. His other hand drawing circled upon your nubbin to divert your attention from the pain.

Aemond was cautious of each of his movements as every one of them only elicited a wince, but once the face of pain turned to pleasure, Aemond slipped in and out of you at an urgent pace that you enjoyed. He held your hips to keep you in place, watching as your pretty face was etched with nothing but sheer pleasure, that your tits heaved up and down with every single one of his thrusts, that your legs that were placed upon his shoulders started to quiver. “Are you to come?” He asked through gritted teeth, his fingers returning to draw circles upon your nub, making you moan louder and cling to the sheets of your bed. 

“Aemond— please, please!” You cried. Aemond shifted his wait atop you once more, removing your legs that rested comfortably upon his shoulders. Instead, wrapping them around his waist as his lips met yours again. Aemond gave one last thrust, burrowing himself deep, spilling his seed inside you as your name left his lips in a pleasured groan. You panted as your body clung tightly to his, your ragged breathing trying to calm as you slid down from your high. Aemond kissed your lips once more, your skin flushed and sticky with the sheen of sweat. “You’ve always been and will always be mine,” He uttered against your lips before flipping you and letting your stomach face the bed as he filled your cunt once more. 

[rosamundpkes]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON APPRECIATION WEEK 2023 day 7: free choice ⇢ Rhaenyra Targaryen + side profile

[plorpl]

Where’s that text post that’s like “Wilson is kind, gentle death and House is rough, painful life” because first of all, GO OFF; second of all, I have more to add:

House is justice; Wilson is clemency.

House is harsh truth; Wilson is comforting lies.

House is abrasive idealism; Wilson is resigned realism.

House is spiky vulnerability; Wilson is velvet guardedness.

House is constructive cruelty; Wilson is destructive kindness.

House is focused passion; Wilson is diffuse romance.

House is a gleeful perpetrator; Wilson is a willing victim.

House is self-sabotage; Wilson is self-sacrifice.

[thankstothe]

Unsupervised bisexual menace

[w1ng-gl0ss]

coughs up a lung hi can you take any vooraines (??( pannel and make it cronus and eridan in my au theyre brothers and theyre Happy And I just want eridan fo be HAPPY

LET THEM BE HAPPY

Sorry this took so long! Apparently the sketchy panels are a lot harder to clean up than the solid ones QmQ

[kingaegond]

Aemond / Targaryen

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Please look at what this house flipper did when they remembered that microwaves exit.

Just.

I would like to believe that is a painting of a microwave, and if you pivot it to the side on its little wire and nail, you will find a wall safe full of 50 bottle caps, some ammo, and a stimpack, if you're lucky.

[dedalvs]

Hello there! I was wondering if you could possibly translate this quote: (I know it's a different fandom, but I was wondering if you could translate it anyways. I think it would be neat to see it in High Valyrian.)... "Not all who wander are lost."

So listen… I know this wasn't the intent, and I know that you're kind of standing in for tons of people from my past, but like… When people ask to have something translated, do they really not give any thought to the grammatical complexity of what they're asking for? And 100% this is not just you, but like… Embedded clauses, relative clauses, counterfactuals…

Something I didn't realize till I started creating languages for a living is translation is my least favorite part of language creation—and it's what I spend the most time doing.

Okay, so, "Not all who wander are lost". Good lord. First, there's "lost", which has a literal and metaphorical meaning in English. Absolutely no idea if this would translate in High Valyrian, and I'm pretty sure I don't have a word for "lost", and I don't even know how to go about creating one. Spanish perdido essentially comes from "wasted" or "squandered". We know where English "lost" came from. There actually is a word for "to lose" in HV, but it's to lose a battle. Doesn't make sense to use it here. So I'm going with something that kind of evokes that mists that surround destroyed Valyria and use the locative of "fog", so to be sambrarra "in the fog" means "to be lost".

I also don't (or didn't) have a word for "wander", but I made a derivation based on one of my favorite words, elēnagon, which means to oscillate or swerve. Jorelēnagon now means "to wander". Seems to fit.

And that was the easy part. A relative clause is something like "The dragon that I saw is big". "Whoever I saw is big" also features a kind of relative clause—an indefinite relative clause. These things are absolute murder to create. But no. It's not just that. It's a modified indefinite relative, because it's not "Whoever wanders is lost", it's "All who wander are lost". BUT IT'S NOT JUST THAT. It's negated on top of that. NE. GA. TED. And not just in the usual way: It's the Mothra fumbling quantifier that's negated. It's not whoever wanders. It's not all who wander. It's NOT ALL who wander. This is like my nightmare—being asked to translate something like this. This is giving me flashbacks to season 1 of House of the Dragon when they asked me to translated "Would that it were", as if that was some reasonable thing for a human being to say in any language ever.

Anyway, if you type "indefinite relative clause" into my High Valyrian grammar, you come up with nothing, because I always forget to write down how the hell I decided to do them. I think because I have both relative adjectives and pronouns that I can just use the damn pronouns by themselves. God. "Not all…" Are you kidding me?! You know High Valyrian has a whole collective number to handle "all", right? What, do I just negate that? Will the meaning be the same as a negated quantifier?! Like it's [[not all] who wander], right? And you can bracket like that because they're all separate words. But what if "all who" is one word? What then?! BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT IT IS!

(By the way I just added a sentence to my grammar that includes the phrase "indefinite relative clause" so I can search for it. It's not like this wasn't written up, but I honestly probably forgot what the term was when I wrote the section the first time and I never revisited it.)

Okay. I'm calm and cool. So. Returning to the translation. There are two types of relative pronouns: One that refers to people or things, and another that refers to concepts or ideas or places. We're talking about people here, so we need the first one. And we need it in the collective. That's lȳr. Leaving the negation aside, this can be translated fairly easily:

Jorelēnus lȳr sambrarra ilza.

Okay, that's "All who wander are lost". I chose the aorist subjunctive for the relative because it's like "anyone who may wander"; I think it makes sense. Lȳr is grammatically singular, so it triggers third person singular agreement in both verbs. Since we're using ilagon as a locative copula here, I think (think) the present tense makes the most sense. So that is "All who wander are lost".

Now how the flarking frump do you say "not all" when "all who" is lȳr?!

So since lȳr is a pronoun it can be modified with an adjective, which would like like this:

Jorelēnus dōre lȳr sambrarra ilza.

But the problem with that is I don't think it gives us the intended meaning. I think that means "None who wander are lost", and that's not what the intended meaning is at all. It is basically "Some people who wander are indeed lost—perhaps many of them—but some of those who are wandering are not, in fact, lost". This is also why you can't negate the matrix verb. That would mean "Anyone that might be wandering is not lost"—again, not the intended meaning. This is the crux of the whole translation: Negating the quantifier and not what the quantifier is modifying.

For that reason, the only thing I can think to do is to go to a much more prolix, and, frankly, un-Valyrian-like expression. This would mean taking the relative pronoun out of the collective, putting it back in the singular, adding in a quantifier, and negating it. That would be this:

Jorelēnus dōre tolvie lȳ sambrarra ilza.

Is that it? I honestly don't know. It is a translation; I'm not sure if it's the best translation. Another possibility is to re-translate it and say "A few who may wander are not lost". That would look like this:

Jorelēnusy lȳn sambrarra ilosy daor.

The pronoun is now in the paucal, which triggers plural agreement on both verbs. (And, by the way, thank goodness sambrarra is a noun phrase; it doesn't have to agree with anything!) And this is, basically, "A few who may wander are not lost".

I feel like the second translation is better maybe…? It feels more Valyrianesque. But I'm not 100% sure it conveys the same sense.

Anyway, I started translating this a little over two hours ago. That's what this takes. That's how long something this complex takes. Granted, it didn't have my full attention at all times, because I was watching Booksmart, but this was my second time watching it, so I didn't have to give the movie my undivided attention (though it had been a few years; there were bits I didn't remember). But yeah. Translation. My god. Like…why. Creating languages is fun. Translation is work. (And if it's not work, you're doing it wrong. Mic drop; soap box kicked.)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

'We buy ugly houses' is code for 'we steal vulnerable peoples' homes'

Tonight (May 11) at 7PM, I’m in CALGARY for Wordfest, with my novel Red Team Blues; I’ll be hosted by Peter Hemminger at the Memorial Park Library, 2nd Floor.

Home ownership is the American dream: not only do you get a place to live, free from the high-handed dictates of a landlord, but you also get an asset that appreciates, building intergenerational wealth while you sleep — literally.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/11/ugly-houses-ugly-truth/#homevestor

Of course, you can’t have it both ways. If your house is an asset you use to cover falling wages, rising health care costs, spiraling college tuition and paper-thin support for eldercare, then it can’t be a place you live. It’s gonna be an asset you sell — or at the very least, borrow so heavily against that you are in constant risk of losing it.

This is the contradiction at the heart of the American dream: when America turned its back on organized labor as an engine for creating prosperity and embraced property speculation, it set itself on the road to serfdom — a world where the roof over your head is also your piggy bank, destined to be smashed open to cover the rising costs that an organized labor movement would have fought:

https://gen.medium.com/the-rents-too-damned-high-520f958d5ec5

Today, we’re hit the end of the road for the post-war (unevenly, racially segregated) shared prosperity that made it seem, briefly, that everyone could get rich by owning a house, living in it, then selling it to everybody else. Now that the game is ending, the winners are cashing in their chips:

https://doctorow.medium.com/the-end-of-the-road-to-serfdom-bfad6f3b35a9

The big con of home ownership is proceeding smartly on schedulee. First, you let the mark win a little, so they go all in on the scam. Then you take it all back. Obama’s tolerance of bank sleze after the Great Financial Crisis kicked off the modern era of corporations and grifters stealing Americans’ out from under them, forging deeds in robosigning mills:

https://www.marketwatch.com/story/us-breaks-down-93-bln-robo-signing-settlement-2013-02-28

The thefts never stopped. Today on Propublica, by Anjeanette Damon, Byard Duncan and Mollie Simon bring a horrifying, brilliantly reported account of the rampant, bottomless scams of Homevestors, AKA We Buy Ugly Houses, AKA “the #1 homebuyer in the USA”:

https://www.propublica.org/article/ugly-truth-behind-we-buy-ugly-houses

Homevestors — an army of the hedge fund Bayview Asset Management — claims a public mission: to bail out homeowners sitting on unsellable houses with all-cash deals. The company’s franchisees — 1,150 of them in 48 states — then sprinkle pixie dust and secret sauce on these “ugly houses” and sell them at a profit.

But Propublica’s investigation — which relied on whistleblowers, company veterans, court records and interviews with victims — tells a very different story. The Homevestor they discovered is a predator that steals houses out from under elderly people, disabled people, people struggling with mental illness and other vulnerable people. It’s a company whose agents have a powerful, well-polished playbook that stops family members from halting the transfers the company’s high-pressure salespeople set in motion.

Propublica reveals homeowners with advanced dementia who signed their shaky signatures to transfers that same their homes sold out from under them for a fraction of their market value. They show how Homevestor targets neighborhoods struck by hurricanes, or whose owners are recently divorced, or sick. One whistleblower tells of how the company uses the surveillance advertising industry to locate elderly people who’ve broken a hip: “a 60-day countdown to death — and, possibly, a deal.” The company’s mobile ads are geofenced to target people near hospitals and rehab hospitals, in hopes of finding desperate sellers who need to liquidate homes so that Medicaid will cover their medical expenses.

The sales pitches are relentless. One of Homevestor’s targets was a Texas woman whose father had recently been murdered. As she grieved, they blanketed her in pitches to sell her father’s house until “checking her mail became a traumatic experience.”

Real-estate brokers are bound by strict regulations, but not house flippers like Homevestors. Likewise, salespeople who pitch other high-ticket items, from securities to plane tickets — are required to offer buyers a cooling-off period during which they can reconsider their purchases. By contrast, Homevestors’ franchisees are well-versed in “muddying the title” to houses after the contract is signed, filing paperwork that makes it all but impossible for sellers to withdraw from the sale.

This produces a litany of ghastly horror-stories: homeowners who end up living in their trucks after they were pressured into a lowball sales; sellers who end up dying in hospital beds haunted by the trick that cost them their homes. One woman who struggled with hoarding was tricked into selling her house by false claims that the city would evict her because of her hoarding. A widow was tricked into signing away the deed to her late husband’s house by the lie that she could do so despite not being on the deed. One seller was tricked into signing a document he believed to be a home equity loan application, only to discover he had sold his house at a huge discount on its market value. An Arizona woman was tricked into selling her dead mother’s house through the lie that the house would have to be torn down and the lot redeveloped; the Homevestor franchisee then flipped the house for 5,500% of the sale-price.

The company vigorously denies these claims. They say that most people who do business with Homevestors are happy with the outcome; in support of this claim, they cite internal surveys of their own customers that produce a 96% approval rating.

When confronted with the specifics, the company blamed rogue franchisees. But Propublica obtained training materials and other internal documents that show that the problem is widespread and endemic to Homevestors’ business. Propublica discovered that at least eight franchisees who engaged in conduct the company said it “didn’t tolerate” had been awarded prizes by the company for their business acumen.

Franchisees are on the hook for massive recurring fees and face constant pressure from corporate auditors to close sales. To make those sales, franchisees turn to Homevana’s training materials, which are rife with predatory tactics. One document counsels franchisees that “pain is always a form of motivation.” What kind of pain? Lost jobs, looming foreclosure or a child in need of surgery.

A former franchisee explained how this is put into practice in the field: he encountered a seller who needed to sell quickly so he could join his dying mother who had just entered a hospice 1,400 miles away. The seller didn’t want to sell the house; they wanted to “get to Colorado to see their dying mother.”

These same training materials warn franchisees that they must not deal with sellers who are “subject to a guardianship or has a mental capacity that is diminished to the point that the person does not understand the value of the property,” but Propublica’s investigation discovered “a pattern of disregard” for this rule. For example, there was the 2020 incident in which a 78-year-old Atlanta man sold his house to a Homevestors franchisee for half its sale price. The seller was later shown to be “unable to write a sentence or name the year, season, date or month.”

The company tried to pin the blame for all this on bad eggs among its franchisees. But Propublica found that some of the company’s most egregious offenders were celebrated and tolerated before and after they were convicted of felonies related to their conduct on behalf of the company. For example, Hi-Land Properties is a five-time winner of Homevestors’ National Franchise of the Year prize. The owner was praised by the CEO as “loyal, hardworking franchisee who has well represented our national brand, best practices and values.”

This same franchisee had “filed two dozen breach of contract lawsuits since 2016 and clouded titles on more than 300 properties by recording notices of a sales contract.” Hi-Land “sued an elderly man so incapacitated by illness he couldn’t leave his house.”

Another franchisee, Patriot Holdings, uses the courts aggressively to stop families of vulnerable people from canceling deals their relatives signed. Patriot Holdings’ co-owner, Cory Evans, eventually pleaded guilty to to two felonies, attempted grand theft of real property. He had to drop his lawsuits against buyers, and make restitution.

According to Homevestors’ internal policies, Patriot’s franchise should have been canceled. But Homevestors allowed Patriot to stay in business after Cory Evans took his name off the business, leaving his brothers and other partners to run it. Nominally, Cory Evans was out of the picture, but well after that date, internal Homevestors included Evans in an award it gave to Patriot, commemorating its sales (Homevestors claims this was an error).

Propublica’s reporters sought comment from Homevestors and its franchisees about this story. The company hired “a former FBI spokesperson who specializes in ‘crisis and special situations’ and ‘reputation management’ and funnelled future questions through him.”

Internally, company leadership scrambled to control the news. The company convened a webinar in April with all 1,150 franchisees to lay out its strategy. Company CEO David Hicks explained the company’s plan to “bury” the Propublica article with “‘strategic ad buys on social and web pages’ and ‘SEO content to minimize visibility.’”

https://www.propublica.org/article/homevestors-aims-to-bury-propublica-reporting

Franchisees were warned not to click links to the story because they “might improve its internet search ranking.”

Even as the company sought to “bury” the story and stonewalled Propublica, they cleaned house, instituting new procedures and taking action against franchisees identified in Propublica’s article. “Clouding titles” is now prohibited. Suing sellers for breach of contract is “discouraged.” Deals with seniors “should always involve family, attorneys or other guardians.”

During the webinar, franchisees “pushed back on the changes, claiming they could hurt business.”

If you’ve had experience with hard-sell house-flippers, Propublica wants to know: “If you’ve had experience with a company or buyer promising fast cash for homes, our reporting team wants to hear about it.”

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Calgary, Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

[Image ID: A Depression-era photo of a dour widow standing in front of a dilapidated cabin. Next to her is Ug, the caveman mascot for Homevestors, smiling and pointing at her. Behind her is a 'We buy ugly houses' sign.

Image: Homevestors https://www.homevestors.com/

Fair use: https://www.eff.org/issues/intellectual-property

[hometoursandotherstuff]

A member of another group I belong to was looking for a starter home and the realtor took him to see this one in Houston, Texas. The cabinetry looked high end from a distance, but upon closer inspection he saw that they were outlined in Sharpie. (Can you imagine the smears when you go to clean it?)

[5t4r5and5uch01]

What i did for that one trend on twt. My fave Blue sillies. 💙💙💙