#House Market Appraisal

[canterburyappraisal]

Whether you're a first-time homebuyer or someone looking to refinance an existing property, navigating the complexities of the mortgage market can be overwhelming. Mortgage brokers are seasoned professionals who can provide invaluable assistance in this process.

In this comprehensive article, we'll delve into the world of mortgage brokers, discussing their role, benefits, and how they can help you secure the best home loan. So, let's dive in!

[robertsbig60]

Stop Foreclosure in Dallas, What's Real

Stop Foreclosure in Dallas

Stop Foreclosure There’s a ton of information on how to “stop foreclosure in Dallas,” and lots of services that will charge you for access to their data on how to do so. In fact, we have our own foreclosure property listings in DFW right here. But… how do you tell the difference between credible information and useless marketing gimmicks with local foreclosure properties? Stop Foreclosure in…

[chicagorealestate411]

Maximize Your Home Sale: Expert Pricing Strategies for Selling in Irving Park, Chicago

Are you ready to sell your Irving Park home in Chicago? Discover the key to a successful sale: expert pricing strategies. Learn why accurate pricing matters and how it can impact your home sale in Irving Park. The Power of Pricing Accuracy: Ensure your home stands out in Irving Park’s competitive market with precisely priced listings. Avoid the pitfalls of overpricing or underpricing, which can…

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #26

July 5-12 2024

The IRS announced it had managed to collect $1 billion in back taxes from high-wealth tax cheats. The program focused on persons with more than $1 million in yearly income who owned more than $250,000 in unpaid taxes. Thanks to money in Biden's 2022 Inflation Reduction Act the IRS is able to undertake more enforcement against rich tax cheats after years of Republicans cutting the agency's budget, which they hope to do again if they win power again.

The Biden administration announced a $244 million dollar investment in the federal government’s registered apprenticeship program. This marks the largest investment in the program's history with grants going out to 52 programs in 32 states. The President is focused on getting well paying blue collar opportunities to people and more people are taking part in the apprenticeship program than ever before. Republican pledge to cut it, even as employers struggle to find qualified workers.

The Department of Transportation announced the largest single project in the department's history, $11 billion dollars in grants for the The Hudson River Tunnel. Part of the $66 billion the Biden Administration has invested in our rail system the tunnel, the most complex Infrastructure project in the nation would link New York and New Jersey by rail under the Hudson. Once finished it's believed it'll impact 20% of the American economy by improving and speeding connection throughout the Northeast.

The Department of Energy announced $1.7 billion to save auto worker's jobs and convert factories to electronic vehicles. The Biden administration will used the money to save or reopen factories in Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Georgia, Illinois, Indiana, Maryland, and Virginia and retool them to make electric cars. The project will save 15,000 skilled union worker jobs, and created 2,900 new high-quality jobs.

The Department of Housing and Urban Development reached a settlement with The Appraisal Foundation over racial discrimination. TAF is the organization responsible for setting standards and qualifications for real estate appraisers. The Bureau of Labor Statistics last year found that TAF was 94.7% White and 0.6% Black, making it the least racially diverse of the 800 occupations surveyed. Black and Latino home owners are far more likely to have their houses under valued than whites. Under the settlement with HUD TAF will have to take serious steps to increase diversity and remove structural barriers to diversity.

The Department of Justice disrupted an effort by the Russian government to influence public opinion through AI bots. The DoJ shut down nearly 1,000 twitter accounts that were linked to a Russian Bot farm. The bots used AI technology to not only generate tweets but also AI image faces for profile pictures. The effort seemed focused on boosting support for Russia's war against Ukraine and spread negative stories/impressions about Ukraine.

The Department of Transportation announces $1.5 billion to help local authorities buy made in America buses. 80% of the funding will go toward zero or low-emission technology, a part of the President's goal of reaching zero emissions by 2050. This is part of the $5 billion the DOT has spent over the last 3 years replacing aging buses with new cleaner technology.

President Biden with Canadian Prime Minster Justin Trudeau and Finnish President Alexander Stubb signed a new agreement on the arctic. The new trilateral agreement between the 3 NATO partners, known as the ICE Pact, will boost production of ice breaking ships, the 3 plan to build as many as 90 between them in the coming years. The alliance hopes to be a counter weight to China's current dominance in the ice breaker market and help western allies respond to Russia's aggressive push into the arctic waters.

The Department of Transportation announced $1.1 billion for greater rail safety. The program seeks to, where ever possible, eliminate rail crossings, thus removing the dangers and inconvenience to communities divided by rail lines. It will also help update and improve safety measures at rail crossings.

The Department of the Interior announced $120 million to help tribal communities prepare for climate disasters. This funding is part of half a billion dollars the Biden administration has spent to help tribes build climate resilience, which itself is part of a $50 billion dollar effort to build climate resilience across the nation. This funding will help support drought measures, wildland fire mitigation, community-driven relocation, managed retreat, protect-in-place efforts, and ocean and coastal management.

The USDA announced $100 million in additional funds to help feed low income kids over the summer. Known as "SUN Bucks" or "Summer EBT" the new Biden program grants the families of kids who qualify for free meals at school $120 dollars pre-child for groceries. This comes on top of the traditional SUN Meals program which offers school meals to qualifying children over the summer, as well as the new under President Biden SUN Meals To-Go program which is now offering delivery of meals to low-income children in rural areas. This grant is meant to help local governments build up the Infrastructure to support and distribute SUN Bucks. If fully implemented SUN Bucks could help 30 million kids, but many Republican governors have refused the funding.

USAID announced its giving $100 million to the UN World Food Program to deliver urgently needed food assistance in Gaza. This will bring the total humanitarian aid given by the US to the Palestinian people since the war started in October 2023 to $774 million, the single largest donor nation. President Biden at his press conference last night said that Israel and Hamas have agreed in principle to a ceasefire deal that will end the war and release the hostages. US negotiators are working to close the final gaps between the two sides and end the war.

The Senate confirmed Nancy Maldonado to serve as a Judge on the Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals. Judge Maldonado is the 202nd federal Judge appointed by President Biden to be confirmed. She will the first Latino judge to ever serve on the 7th Circuit which covers Illinois, Indiana, and Wisconsin.

Bonus: At the NATO summit in Washington DC President Biden joined 32 allies in the Ukraine compact. Allies from Japan to Iceland confirmed their support for Ukraine and deepening their commitments to building Ukraine's forces and keeping a free and Democratic Ukraine in the face of Russian aggression. World leaders such as British Prime Minster Keir Starmer, German Chancellor Olaf Scholz, French President Emmanuel Macron, and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, praised President Biden's experience and leadership during the NATO summit

[mannyrealestate]

If you are confused about making a move to know about Factors That Add Value to House, then you must contact Manny Singh, Real Estate Agents in Pakenham.

Real more- https://mannyrealestate.com.au/10-factors-that-add-value-to-house-appraisal/

[lulublack90]

Prompt 1 - Opening Ceremony

@wolfstarmicrofic August 1, word count 732

Because I am an absolute nutter, it looks like I'm swapping the two series I did last month over so now we have part two of the Apple Core series that was a Jegulus story but now it's following on as a Wolfstar. I'll link the pervious Jegulus series if any one wants to read that first. Hope you enjoy.

Previous Jegulus part First Jegulus part

“Come on Remus, get the banner higher, like James’s side. Yes, that’s better. Perfect.” Sirius directed from the floor while James and Remus balanced precariously on chairs outside the café. Sirius and Remus had just bought it for a relatively good price. He’d sunk everything he had into it, well what he had left after getting them the nice flat. It was just typical that this place went on the market with a perfectly adequate flat above it the day after they exchanged contracts for their flat. Sirius had made a fuss about it at the time, but he believed everything happened for a reason. He had this niggling feeling that he and Remus were not meant to live in the flat above the café, so he put it out of his mind and got to work.

The café had been a disaster. They’d had to rip everything out to the studs and start again, but that meant they could use the space however they wanted. They did as much as they could themselves to keep costs down, which basically meant telling James what they wanted and pointing him in the right direction. 

But today was opening day and Sirius was nervous. What if nobody came? What if this was a colossal waste of money, and he was just a waster like his parents had told him over and over as he was growing up? His thoughts turned to his brother for a second. He hadn’t seen him in 5 years and had no idea what he was doing. As far as he knew, Regulus still lived in that house with them. He quickly put an end to that train of thought. He highly doubted he’d see or hear from Regulus any time soon. 

He stood back to appraise their handiwork. He grinned a face-spitting smile. The banner proclaiming Open for Business proudly hung under the shimmering blue-tinged white letterings of their shop’s name, Howlin’ at the Moon. He just needed to add the finishing touches, and they’d be ready for the grand opening ceremony. He ran back inside and began to drag out the piece of rolled-up red carpet, the velvet ropes and the big red ribbon. When he was done, he jumped around with glee and checked his watch for the time. They still had two hours.   

Effie and Monty turned up to help make all the samples. He and Remus had kept it simple. Shots of their signature coffee blend and miniature cheese toasties, which were normal cheese toasties artfully cut up by Monty himself. 

“Sirius look,” Remus physically spun him around to face the glass front of the shop. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Already there was a huge crowd waiting patiently for the doors to open. 

“Mum!” He called into the back, “We’re going to need more cheese toasties, a lot more,” Effie came round to see what was going on and gave him a big squeeze. 

“You’re going to be amazing darling,” She whispered into his ear as she planted a big wet kiss only a mother could give on his cheek. “And don’t think you can sneak away Mr, you’re just as much a part of this family as the others are,” Effie wrapped her arms around Remus, who’d been trying to avoid her kisses, and held him there while she covered his face with red lipstick. 

“How many times do we have to tell you, Moony,” James snickered from the other side of the counter. “You can’t run away from her, it’s best just to accept her love and be done with it,” Remus grumbled at him and made rude gestures when Effie’s back was turned as he tried to wipe the red stains off his face. The clock chimed and it was time to go.

Sirius swallowed nervously as he took in the crowd. He was standing with an oversized pair of scissors in front of the door, preparing to make a speech. He took a deep steadying breath and felt his body tremble. Remus came and stood beside him, and together they introduced themselves and welcomed everyone to their café. Holding the scissors between them, they cut the ribbon and watched it fall to the floor as the local paper took a photo of the event. They opened the door and the crowd surged forward. Howlin’ at the Moon was officially open.

Next part

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This brick ranch in Kentwood, Louisiana is the childhood home of Britney Spears. In 2021, it sold for $289K and the current owners have it on the market now, for $1.2M. (Doubt if there is a bank appraiser who would approve a $1.2M mortgage for it, but okay.) 3bds, 3ba, and what looks like some memorabilia. Let's take a look.

The realtors don't know when it was built, but it looks to be about late 70s, early 80s.

The living room features a vaulted ceiling and knotty pine walls. I'm surprised that there's no fireplace. It's not exactly open concept, but there are large openings to the surrounding rooms.

The dining room has knotty pine wainscoting and those awful accordion doors.

The kitchen has dated rustic cabinetry, but it does match the house. A wall of glass doors opens to the patio, there's an island made of stone, that functions as a table, and a pantry behind more accordion doors.

There's a large laundry/utility room.

The primary bedroom has double doors to the deck. The bedrooms feature built-in dressers, but the front is just a facade, so how deep into the wall do they actually go?

This bedroom is quite small and also has a built-in dresser. The wood plaques look like Britney's autograph.

Memorabilia?

The 3rd bedroom is a decent size.

A large shed houses Britney's original dance studio.

A 2nd shed on the property.

It looks a little worse for wear.

I don't know what's happening here, but it looks like some extra chipboard panels.

Behind the house is a large patio with a carport or breezeway.

Covered porch with a swing.

The home is on a 1.87 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/14550-Greenlaw-Church-Rd-Kentwood-LA-70444/77735995_zpid/

[ukrfeminism]

5 minute read

TW: descriptions of sexual violence from the start

“For two hours he tortured me, his hands were everywhere. I thought rape was inevitable, I wondered whether I’d get out alive. We were in an empty property on a quiet cul-de-sac and he’d completely overpowered me.” These are the words of a female estate agent who was attacked by the seller of a property she had gone to value in Essex.

Hers is not a lone voice. Women in the property industry, who frequently visit empty homes alone — either to value them for sellers or to show prospective buyers around — are speaking out about the dangers.

Now, 30 years after the estate agent Suzy Lamplugh was declared dead (seven years after going missing on a viewing in Fulham, west London, with a man who called himself “Mr Kipper”) and 31 years after the Birmingham estate agent Stephanie Slater was kidnapped during a house viewing, women are saying it still isn’t safe to do their job.

Only 22 per cent of estate agents and letting agents, male and female, feel safe when on viewings, while 82 per cent say estate agent safety isn’t taken seriously enough — according to a survey of 150 agents across the country Allan Fuller an estate agent in Putney, southwest London.

The case of the estate agent in Essex, who spoke anonymously to The Times, was dropped by the Crown Prosecution Service last year, two days before coming to court. “I am furious, he had the money to hire a big shot lawyer. I feel let down,” she says. “It has been absolutely horrendous. It had a massive effect on my whole life: my relationship of 15 years broke down and I ended up on antidepressants and having panic attacks every time I went on a valuation.”

Although she has now moved agencies, she continues to work as an estate agent. “I thought, if I give up my job, he has won again — and I love my job.” However, she insists her female colleagues carry rape alarms, check in before and after house visits, and follow strict protocols about leaving doors open in properties and never getting into cars with sellers or potential buyers.

Fuller says: “There is a common misperception in the industry that ‘it won’t happen to me’.”

The responses to Fuller’s survey show that it does happen. One female respondent who works in the West Midlands wrote: “I recently valued a property and met with a man accused of domestic violence and I have never felt so uncomfortable in my life. He proceeded to show me an over-stair cupboard and said that there was ‘enough space for three dead bodies’. I left quickly after that.”

Other comments included:

“During a repossession the owner climbed into the loft and was threatening with a knife. Police had to taser him twice to safely remove him.”

“Carrying out a market appraisal with a gentleman who revealed he was due in court the next day to be charged with rape.”

“I believed a viewer was carrying a knife on a viewing, they were trying to get me into a certain room. The vibe wasn’t good, so I managed to email my office an SOS. Two members of staff came and pretended to be the next viewers.”

And: “I was covering a valuation and the person locked me in without me knowing and as I went to leave he went to hug me. I had to duck under his arm and unlatch the door quickly to get out.”

It’s not just on visits that workers are vulnerable, though. One estate agent told The Times how she was assaulted by a prospective buyer while working alone in an office in Oxford on a dark December evening. After being cornered, by the photocopier, she says she managed to “thump him in the windpipe” and run for help. He was arrested and charged. She now insists all her staff carry rape alarms and follow strict safety rules in and out of the office.

Fuller says he makes staff safety a priority too, sending his staff on self-defence courses — “one tip I picked up was if a man is making an unwanted move on a woman she should look as if she’s about to be sick, they soon back off” — issuing rape alarms, fitting CCTV and insisting that prospective buyers and sellers visit the office, verify their name and address, and are captured on camera before going on viewings.

Claire Lewis, 65, was an estate agent in Putney at the time Lamplugh went missing. She says: “Everyone was so shocked, we’d been getting into cars with prospective clients and going on viewings with men. It never occurred to us that anything could happen. That all changed and we suddenly became much more aware.”

However, she now worries for her daughter, Charlotte Dale, 34, a part-time estate agent in southwest London. “Generally things seem more dangerous for women even though they have mobile phones. Whereas in the past men acted in isolation — now they receive validation and encouragement on the internet,” Lewis says.

The estate agent from Essex, who was tortured for two hours, says she wants to see a national campaign to draw attention to the dangers: “Some estate agents seem to care more about protecting assets, with money laundering checks etc, than they do about protecting their staff. This has to change.”

[themidnightcrimson]

Ghost. | w. maximoff

summary: in which you move into an old house and find that you might not be its only occupant.

warnings: dark!wanda, dubcon, top!wanda, fingering, mentions of death (obviously), honestly creeped myself out writing this, super long so grab some popcorn, this one's for the spooky gays

this post is for 18+ only. minors: do not interact.

masterlist.

This time of year couldn’t have been more exciting for you. As autumn’s cold touch brushed over the air like an icy paintbrush, the changing season was not the only new beginnings happening in your life.

Buying a house at your young age was something rather unheard of. The most that people your age in your city could afford were studio apartments, or maybe even tiny one-bedroom apartments for the ones with more conscientious (aka wealthy) parents. The housing market was more inflated than ever, but you managed to land one—a huge one nestled up a hill in a nice part of town. Sure, it was incredibly old, which you thought was the reason it was so cheap and so easy to bid for. The appraisers didn’t find anything wrong in the house—you thought maybe its foundation was sinking, or maybe the pipes had to be completely gutted out, or the electrical wiring was outdated. No—the house was in tip-top shape, besides the cobwebs and dust coating everything and a few squeaky floorboards in the hallway. What surprised even further was when the realtor told you there were no other interested buyers for the house, and that you were the first one to put up a bid in years. You chuffed it up to you being smart for your age.

The house had been built in the early 1900’s, made evident by its antiquated architecture. The front windows on either side of the door were made of stained glass reminiscent of neoplastic style. The towers of the house were Victorian, siphoning upwards into spikes as if prepared for war. It was a gothic and historical home, which was what you loved about it.

Your realtor seemed a little hesitant when you asked her why no one had already snatched this house up. Besides a little dusting and yardwork that needed to be done, it was the most beautiful house in the city. She opened and closed her mouth as you stood in the entryway of the home, taking a final tour before you would give her an answer. She clutched her clipboard to her chest and slowly glanced up the tall staircase. You dreaded she was going to say there was a construction issue in the staircase and that it needed to be redone, but she slowly averted her eyes back to you, and they now had a certain sheen over them.

She leaned in closer to you and whispered, as if you weren’t the only people in the house, “There was a death here many years ago. A lot of people in this town, you know, are rather superstitious—say it’s got bad mojo or whatever.” Her uneasy attitude quickly turned into bubbly commercial laughter, but you noticed that the hand holding her pen was trembling slightly. “The reputation certainly precedes this house, but it just reputation, after all.”

“Just reputation,” you quietly repeated, turning your head to look around the house. You were not a clairvoyant person, but you didn’t feel anything wrong with the house except that you would need to hire pest control to take care of a few spiders crawling on the ceiling. You didn’t believe in that kind of stuff, and you completely understood what the agent meant about the superstitious people in the town. The town’s citizens were as old as this house, and so they probably grew up hearing all the rumors and believed them.

“I’ll take it,” you eventually said. Besides your agnosticism in the subject of the paranormal, you had been dreaming of having a whole house to yourself to decorate however you wanted. You were tired of being a tenant and not having a place to call truly your own.

Within the first week of moving in, you decided on a sunny but cold Saturday to roll up your sleeves and get to work on the lawn. It was terribly overgrown, with years of dead leaves covering the grounds and weeds rising to your waist. There was an old shed out back where a few gardening tools had been left behind by the owners. You grabbed a rusty rake and pulled on some gloves before going out to the front and beginning at the sidewalk, raking up as many leaves as you could.

The cold day started to turn warmer as the sun rose higher in the sky, and the plaid scarf around your neck was beginning to make you sweat. Pausing in front of the huge pile of leaves you had already created, you leaned the rake against your hip and unraveled the scarf from around your neck. As you were doing so, you glanced mindlessly up to the house. It looked a little cheerier in the sun, but your blood ran cold when you spotted something in one of the top windows where the attic was. In a split second, you thought you saw the silhouette of a person standing in the window, but after one bat of your eyelids, the silhouette was gone. You noticed that the white curtain behind the window was moving, but after another blink, it seemed to remain completely still.

You were just tired and overheating, you told yourself. The realtor had showed you the attic, which was entirely empty besides a few boxes of belongings from the last owners. You wouldn’t dare try to climb that rickety pull-out ladder again, so you shrugged it off and continued to rake.

The house seemed like a maze for one person to live in alone. There were so many bedrooms and random closets that it took you the whole week to clean through each room. When you finally got to the last bedroom, you were going through some of the things that were left behind by the owners, which were a few boxes under the bed. It was pretty important stuff, you thought, as you opened a small red velvet box and saw that it was full of pictures of a family. A mom, a dad, and four kids. There were even some sentimental items in there, like old movie tickets and coins from the old arcade that used to be in town. Why would the owners have left behind such items? Were they really in such a rush to get out?

Late that night, your curiosity got the best of you. You had just installed Wi-fi a few days ago, so you took to your handy laptop in bed and started searching up the house online. To your surprise, Google engineered about three thousand results when you typed in the address of your home. A few shocking news articles came up with headlines like “House of Horrors” and “Home of Death.” You suddenly saw the same picture of the family that you had seen in a polaroid in that box under the other bedroom’s bed, so you clicked on that article as full intrigue consumed you.

Your mouth fell open as you read the story that the family had given nearly two decades ago. They said that their “horrors” began with strange noises that kept them up at night, lights flickering on and off, voices coming from parts of the house that no one lived in, and how ladder to the attic kept getting pushed down by itself. Their tolerance ended, according to the mom, when the ladder flew open right as she was walking under it and rendered her unconscious.

Your initial apprehension of the family’s story, as you subconsciously assumed they were quacks or just lying for money, was upended when the article went on to explain the history of the house. Early on, when it was recently built, a married couple and their twin boys had moved into the home. Apparently, the wife had started to go crazy, which led the husband to take the kids and leave her. The wife, ushered by her grief and insanity, took a rope and went up to the attic and…

Suddenly, the website you were just on flashed a blank white screen with an error code. Frustrated by your interest being cut off, you tapped the reload button repeatedly until you noticed that your Wi-fi had disconnected and was no longer showing as available.

“Ugh!” you groaned, closing the laptop and getting out of your bed. You had dreaded Internet problems, since the house was secluded with trees, and the installation guy was about as old as your grandpa.

You walked through the dark hallway, downstairs, and into the kitchen where you had the router set up. Seeing that the light was not on, you looked behind the router to see that it was unplugged.

“What the fuck,” you whispered, grabbing the cord. You wondered if maybe the outlet was loose and the cord had just fell out, but it was perfectly secure as you plugged it back in. It was too late at night for you to call the Internet guy and ask about it, so you turned to go back upstairs to sleep. Suddenly, you heard a strange thud come from upstairs. You stopped, your breath stilling as you listened closely.

The thud came again, and then another one, like footsteps. Had someone broken in, thinking that the house was still abandoned? Your mind jumped to the possibility that some squatters were living in the attic, and that was why you had seen someone in the attic window.

The only weapon near you in the kitchen was a butcher’s knife, so you quietly took it from its place in the block of knives, your heart skipping a beat as fear consumed you. Admittedly, you were a bit creeped out from reading that article so late at night.

“Hello?!” you called out loudly, waiting to hear another voice meet yours. You heard nothing but another pair of footsteps, this time sounding like they were at the top of the stairs. Gripping the knife in your hand, you moved quietly into the dark living room, carefully turning on a little lamp by the staircase. Slowly, you peered through the railing to look at the top of the staircase, hearing nothing. “Hello?!” you called out again, the house now entirely silent.

You were not a weary person, even though you were on edge in that moment. So, taking the knife confidently with you, you went up the stairs. You were surprised when, halfway there, the light above the staircase suddenly flicked on, but the creepiest part was that it was red.

+

You held the metal ladder as the man stood fearlessly on the very top to reach the light that was all the way on the tall ceiling above the staircase. He’d managed to secure the ladder perfectly on the stairs, but you didn’t know anything about homeowner liability and did not want to see this man tumble down your stairs for sake of not being able to afford home insurance.

“Is that even a light that can change colors?” you called up to him as he unscrewed the lightbulb.

“No, ma’am,” he said as he crouched down and handed the dusty lightbulb to you, grabbing a new one out of his work suit pocket. “Sometimes these old lights can burn a strange orange color when they’re too old.”

You turned the old lightbulb around in your palm. “But it was bright red—like, neon red,” you argued.

“Electricity is amazing, isn’t it?” the old man countered as he screwed the new lightbulb in. You rolled your eyes, deciding that he thought you were just a delusional woman who imagined what you saw.

Despite your distrust of this man now, you couldn’t help but ask him another question pressing your mind since he was a repairman and probably knew something about these things. “Do you think there’s any way rats can live through rat poison?”

As he placed the glass cover over the lightbulb, he slowly looked down at you through his arm.

You quickly explained, “It’s just that… I heard some weird noises last night. I thought maybe it was rats, but the pest control guy said he got everything out of the place.”

The man finished putting the cover back on the light and slowly climbed down the ladder with a sigh. “It’s a possibility a few squeakers got away.” He brusquely folded up the ladder, and you snatched your hand away from it so it wouldn’t get squished. He held the ladder under his arm and turned to you. “It’s an old house, ma’am. Old houses are live creatures of their own, especially when you got a young lady bouncing around here all on her own.” You raised your eyes at him, and he gave a slightly apologetic look. “Just some shifting in the foundation, probably. Nothing to worry yourself over.” He turned to walk towards the door, but before he left, he turned to you and added, “Don’t let yourself get too spooked in this house.” His eyes moved upwards around the house. “But I know I sure would.”

+

The next couple of weeks were relatively quiet in the house. You tested the staircase light every night, and every night it alighted into a normal soft yellow hue. There were no more footsteps, and the Wi-fi was working properly. Maybe you were just spooked from the article you had been reading that night, but you didn’t want to gaslight yourself. Everything that happened truly happened, but you took a more scientific approach to the causation rather than adding on to the ignorant ghost stories.

Things were calm and normal, until they weren’t. You hadn’t been sleeping well the past few nights, for reasons unbeknownst to you. You kept waking up from strange dreams, tossing and turning all throughout the night. These happening escalated one night when you woke up in the dead of dark, sweat covering your entire body. You were burning up, which was odd because as you looked down, you noticed that your bedsheets were completely off the bed and laying on the floor around it. More surprisingly, your silky nightgown was pushed all the way up to your waist, your legs laying wide open on the mattress. You were breathing hard for some reason, and your face was hot to the touch.

Slowly sitting up, your sleepy vision took a few moments to clear before you saw a dark shadow standing in the open doorway of your room that you remembered closing before you went to bed. Every miniscule hair on the back of your sweaty neck stood on its end as the shadow swiftly disappeared behind the door. Scrambling, you jumped out of the bed, noticing that your knees felt like jelly. You burst through the doorway, expecting to see the perpetrator standing there to the side of the door, but there was nothing and no one.

You were in the habit of gaslighting yourself now. You reasoned out that you just had a bad nightmare, but your reasonings came to faulty holdings the next morning when you were about to take a shower. Standing naked in the mirror, you noticed deep red scratch marks going all the way up your thighs, come even on your upper abdomen near your breasts.

This was where things became unreasonable, but what were you going to do? This house was such a steal, and you couldn’t imagine the horrors of trying to sell it with all the rumors surrounding it. You still did not believe the ghost stories, but honestly it was because you were too scared to.

The next night, you didn’t sleep. You stayed sitting up in bed in the dark, trying to keep yourself awake so you could figure out what was happening in the night to make you have such bad nightmares and wake up with scratch marks. It was nearly 3 A.M. before you heard anything.

You had dozed off, waking up with a jolt when you heard a noise out in the hallway. You had closed your bedroom door, and as you heard what sounded like footsteps outside in the hallway, your heart jumped when you saw the bronze doorknob slowly turning.

You had kept your butcher’s knife on your nightstand and grabbed it as you waited to see whoever it was that was harassing you every night. The sound of the latch clicking rang in your ears, and you froze like stone as the door slowly creaked open.

The door widened to reveal—no one. There was not a thing standing in the doorway. Your eyebrows sewed together in confusion when you heard footsteps. They were by the door first, and while you were confused about where they were coming from, you didn’t register the fact that they suddenly sprinted fast towards your bed. In an instant, you felt a cold grip on either of your ankles, and a scream left your throat as you were yanked down the bed and to the floor, the knife falling out of your hand.

Your body ached on the wooden floor as you stood up, adrenaline flowing through your body as you got to your feet. You looked all around the room wildly, feeling like you were going crazy because you could not see anyone in the room with you. Suddenly, the bedroom door slammed shut, and you heard the sinister sound of it locking.

Then came a voice in a hush-like whisper. “Y/n.”

You gasped, turning around in circles to try and pinpoint where the voice came from, but you felt like you were only confusing yourself further.

“Who’s there?!” you yelled, hearing your own echo in the room. You ran to the door and tried to open it, but the doorknob would not budge as you yanked furiously on it.

“For God’s sake, I’m standing right here!” came that whisper of a voice again from right behind you. You jumped around and found yourself face-to-face with a woman, your blood running cold.

There, clear as day, was a woman standing in front of your bed in the dark room. She had red hair that was loosely curled to her shoulders. She was wearing a long, white sort of nightgown that reminded you of what your grandma used to wear when she was younger. Her face was all dressed up in red lipstick and thick false eyelashes, a pleasant smile on her face complemented by red blush on her cheeks. She looked like she had stepped right out of a lingerie ad from the 50’s.

You eyed her up and down in confusion. You had expected to see a dirty man, not a beautiful woman smiling at you, looking like a perfectly normal American housewife from the 50’s. She cocked her head, noticing that you were staring at her appearance. She quickly looked down to her white gown.

“Oh! This old thing?!” she laughed, holding the waist of her gown. “Don’t mind it, it’s just Sokovian tradition.” She gave a small chuckle and flattened the silky fabric. “I brought it when I came over to America as a girl. Of course, Vis never really…” She trailed, a lost look suddenly crossing her features. She hung onto the end of her sentence as if trying to find the words before a sad look filled her green orbs. She looked back to you and smiled in some sort of relief. “Well, it's certainly nice to finally meet you. I’m Wanda.” She stuck out her hand to you and grinned with pearly white teeth. Somewhere in her picturesque smile was something insidious that made your stomach turn.

You slowly backed away. “Why are you in my fucking house?” Her perfectly arched eyebrow twitched as she slowly withdrew her hand. “Are you the one that’s been walking around in the attic at all times of the night? Coming into my bedroom when I’m sleeping?!”

The woman chuckled and walked over to your vanity, taking a seat in the chair and crossing her legs. “Well, I guess you could say I do hang around in the attic most of the time.” She suddenly laughed and slapped her knee, leaning forward as her laugh rang in your ears. She calmed herself down with a sigh, fiddling with a curl of her hair as her smile faded. It was then that you noticed a dark bruise around her neck like a purple and red collar.

You were growing fed up with whoever this lunatic was and why she was in your house. “Who are you? Get out of my house!”

She laughed patronizingly, picking up your pink hairbrush and inspecting it before looking in the mirror and combing her red hair. “Well, someone’s a little entitled, don’t you think?” As she combed her hair in the mirror, your breath stilled when you noticed that there was no reflection of her in the mirror.

A thought creeped in your mind that you were going insane and hallucinating, but your fight or flight nonetheless kicked in. “I said get out!”

Your harsh tone of voice made her freeze. She slowly put the comb down on the vanity, her head slowly turning to reveal a cold stone expression, her eyes wide and furious. You gulped, feeling stupid for antagonizing a crazy person who had snuck into your house, probably with horrible intentions.

She took a deep breath and put a fake smile on her face again, slowly standing up from the chair. “You know, I felt so lucky for you to have come in. I’ve just been so lonely ever since…” She trailed again, as if losing her words. “And then that family moved in, but they only reminded me of everything I couldn’t have.”

She started to step towards you, and you balled your fists in preparation to defend yourself. She held her hands at her front, cocking her head as she neared you. Her eyes were fully absorptive, staring hard at you and making you feel swallowed whole in their gaze. You felt your back press against the cold wooden door, but she continued to near you.

“And then there was you,” she said, her voice sounding whisper-like again. “A perfect little lamb, all alone. Never makes much of any noise in the house. Always keeps it clean. I mean, I just love what you’ve done with the place!” She gave a shrill laugh again that made you feel suddenly sick.

She was right in front of you now, her face inches from yours. You suddenly felt goosebumps rise on every inch of your skin, the air turning deadly cold and causing you to shiver as if it were the middle of winter.

“And then, of course, I’ve had so much fun with you.” Her thick eyelashes fluttered downwards as she reached towards you, taking the hem of your nightgown and lifting it enough to see the scratches on your thighs. A smirk curled at her lips as she whispered, “Oops.”

You slapped her hand away and quickly jumped away from her. “If you don’t leave my house, I will call the police,” you growled as threateningly as you could, but it didn’t faze her. In fact, it only angered her. The cheery countenance once on the woman’s face turned maddened and evil.

Suddenly, she lifted her finger, and a force grabbed you and threw you across the room to the bed. You landed on the mattress with a huff, your breath knocked out of you and your head spinning from being tossed like that. You tried to get up, but a force kept you pinned on the bed.

“I don’t expect such attitude from a nice young lady like you,” the woman growled, her voice sounding deeper than before. You craned your head forward to watch her as she came towards the end of the bed, crawling between your legs. Fear filled you as she laid a pedicured hand on your knee, dragging it softly up the inside of your thigh as she crawled over you, a dark and ominous look in her eyes. Her deathly cold hand left a trail of goosebumps on your skin as she slinked your nightgown up to your waist, exposing your thighs to her. She looked down at them with a smile, trailing her fingers over the scratches. “So pretty and soft.”

“G-Get off me,” you weakly demanded, struggling against whatever it was holding you down to the bed. You had no want to try and reason what was happening, or to make note that all the ghost stories were true—you were only fearing for yourself in that moment as this woman—if that is even what she was—was hovering over you.

“It’s fun when you’re asleep,” she spoke, kneeling between your legs and placing her hands on either side of your head. “I tried to wait to introduce myself, but I’m a rather impatient woman.” She leaned close to your face, and although she was incredibly beautiful, fear strangled you as she lowered her lips to your cheek and pressed a cold kiss there. You trembled as she began to leave a trail of kisses down to your neck, nudging her nose against your skin.

“Please,” you begged, to which she grinned darkly down at you.

“Hush now,” she whispered, pressing a finger over your lips and dragging it over them. “Mommy will make you feel good.”

Pressing on your abdomen two hands that made you jump from how frozen they felt, she dragged her palms up your warm stomach under the fabric of your gown, grabbing at your breasts. She moaned softly, squeezing you as she pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

“So perfect,” she whispered, and while you felt cold all over and more anxious than you had ever been, her touch was so soft and somewhat fleeting that it made you crave more of it. She lifted your gown to expose your breasts, placing her mouth over your hardened nipple. You let out a sort of squeak at the feeling as she suckled on your nipple, dragging her fingernails hard down your abdomen and causing you to wince. One hand stopped on your waist as the other one dipped down, grabbing at your thigh and pushing it to the side so that you were opened up for her.

“You’re such a good girl for Mommy, aren’t you?” she questioned seductively in her strange accent, gliding her hand up and cupping you through your panties. She groaned at feeling your wetness through the fabric, rubbing directly over your clit.

Your body betrayed you as warmth flourished inside you. Pleasure seeped through your veins, and your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of her touch.

She was honest, at least, when she said she was an impatient woman, because within a few moments she was dipping her hand inside your panties and running her fingers through your folds. You gasped from both the cold and the pleasurable feeling, while she moaned at how wet you were.

Slowly, she slid two fingers inside you, your mouth falling open at their length. Your brain was trying to forbid you from feeling good about what she was doing, but your body was on fire with how good it felt. Her fingers were so long as they curled in your depths, hitting your sweet spot perfectly.

“That’s it, lamb,” she encouraged you as she pumped her fingers in and out of you. “Your pussy’s so soft… so tight.” She gasped as she found her own pleasure by straddling your thigh and grinding on it, her long gown pooling around her thighs.

Your hips were moving along to her thrusts, and when you felt her add a third finger that stretched you, the room started to spin. You glanced at her, noticing just how sexy she was grinding on your thigh, eyes closed and mouth open in pleasure, one sleeve of her silky gown having fallen down her shoulder and exposing one of her breasts. She was mindlessly digging her nails into your hip, leaving more and more scratches.

You were hot and dazed as she thrust her fingers harder, using her thumb to rub at your clit all while grinding harder on your thigh. You were still being forced down on the bed, but you were able to grab the side of the sheets as you felt a pressure forming in your lower stomach.

“Jesus,” she moaned, swirling her hips over your thigh as she fingered you with no mercy. She opened her eyes, which were three times darker now, and saw that you were on the edge. She reached forward and gently cupped your hot, flushed cheek. Through a strangled voice she breathlessly whispered, “Go on, baby. Cum for Mommy.”

As if she had a control panel for your body, you instantly came around her fingers that penetrated you as deeply as they could, curling to help you cum even harder. She grabbed onto your breast and squeezed it as she came on your thigh, both of your moans filling the air, although yours were shyer than hers were.

The orgasm that crashed over you left you reeling and blind, your body arching off the bed before calmly lowering back down as your climax slowly passed. You were panting, heart beating loudly in your eyes, hardly able to see the woman as you opened your eyes. She was looking down at you proudly with a small smile.

“You’ll never leave me like he did,” she whispered, cupping your cheek softly. You were still coming down as she spoke, not able to fully register what she was saying. “You’ll be with me forever.”

“W-What?” you croaked, but she shushed you.

Leaning down so that her face was close to yours, she whispered, “Go to sleep, lamb.” You were wide awake now, but when she pressed a soft kiss to your lips, you felt yourself falling into a deep slumber, everything fading to black.

+

When you woke, it was daytime. Sun was flooding through the window, and you felt groggy as you slowly sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes and trying to remember what had happened. By the looks of it, the memory you had must have been just a dream. It was a horrifying but pleasurable dream, but a dream, nonetheless.

Yawning, you decided that the best antidote for your grogginess was coffee. Feeling strangely calm, you were halfway downstairs when you saw your front door swing open. Pausing, slightly frightened, you were a little relieved when you saw it was the realtor agent, although it was strange for her to just walk in like that.

“Oh,” you sighed, “Good morning.” You came down the stairs, but the realtor agent did not greet you. She turned to the door and gestured in another person—a police officer.

“Well, I guess it’s not a crime scene anymore, so you’re good to put it up on the market,” the police officer said, taking his hat off and holding it as he looked around the house with a morose stare.

The realtor sighed and shook her head as she followed his eyes. “Can’t believe what happened here. I’ll never be able to sell this place again.”

Confused, you stepped in front of them. “Uh, sorry, what? What’s going on?”

Their eyes seemed to look right past you. The police officer added, “She was so young, too. It’s such a shame.”

“It certainly is,” the realtor sighed before turning and walking out of the house.

“Wait!” you exclaimed. “Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?!”

The police officer finally seemed to notice you, quirking his eyebrow. “Did you hear that?” he asked the realtor who was already halfway down the front steps.

The realtor turned back to look at the officer with an exasperated look. “Whatever it is, just let it be. This house is damned, and so is my job.”

The officer gave one last look to the house before turning and leaving. “Hey!” you yelled, attempting to walk past him and chase the realtor down to ask what the hell was happening, but suddenly you were back inside the house, right in front of the door. You looked down at yourself and the doorway. “What the fuck?” you whispered, before attempting again to run out the door. Again, you seemed to appear right back inside the house. The police officer was closing the door now. “No! Wait!” He closed the door right in front of your face, and you found that you didn’t have the energy anymore to try and walk through it again to no avail.

You were shaking with anxiety. Why couldn't you walk out the door? Why were they ignoring you when you were standing right in front of them? What did they mean when they said, “She was so young”?

Suddenly, a voice came from the top of the staircase.

“Oh, you’re up!” Turning, your eyes widened when you saw the same redheaded woman standing there at the top. She was still wearing her white nightgown, holding her hands together and grinning. “I didn’t think it would take you this long, but here you are!”

You opened your mouth to speak, but you were too shocked for words as the dots slowly connected in your brain.

Wanda stood at the top of the stairs, beaming down at you. “I must tell you again, y/n, just how glad I am that you moved in.”

[jev-urisk]

Morreial's heist supplies: Tag Game ✨️

Original game by @thecomfywriter (Post HERE). Thanks for the tag @the-golden-comet!

Premise: Write your OC using these tools (from Ch. 18 of Throne of Vengeance) to commit a heist involving an armored vault. A piece of string, a lantern, oil, matches, a book, a cup, an enchanted shovel, and a pair of gloves. And, a navy blue Henley

Love, LOVE this prompt. It's perfect for Kazimier💋, my shapeshifting incubus OC from my WIP 🌐7 Circles🌐

It's kinda spoiler-y, because it goes over some of Kazimier's abilities and really shows the kind of bastard he is. You've been warned.

Tonight is your final meeting with this criminal. Kazimier smirks behind his drink, an appraising glint in his mismatched eyes. "You wanna know how I did it?" he teases. He knew you did, but wanted to hear you say it anyway.

"How did you steal it?"

He leans back, swirling his glass. "So the safe in this fancy hotel was owned by a Nexi couple, right? They shipped the damn thing down from Nexis years ago an' had it installed in their always-booked penthouse suite. I woulda' sacked it a decade ago but this safe has an arcane lock, capisce?"

You shake your head no, and he rolls his eyes.

"Magic technology, unpickable. An' the only way to open this particular lock is to touch their wedding rings to this weird circle on the front, yeah? So the first thing I do is track down a mediocre fairy lantern replica."

"Wait, what?" you can help uttering, and it earns you a scoff.

"What? It's not like faeries are real, an' if they were they'd appreciate how stupid some folks are over their alleged arda'facts. The husband was one such stupid folk, and after broadcastin' that someone on the black market found a new lantern, a few fake death threats, and a well-placed comment made by a poker dealer- I got him to agree to a meeting in a car. One of them fancy Nexi ones that comes with a driver an' I made sure the person at the wheel is one on my payroll. I arrive as a representative of the auction house, shapeshifted to look like a vampiress."

"Wait, so you-"

"Had tits, yes. Along with long brown hair, skinny ankles, and a pencil skirt shorter than your attention span."

You grimace, "I wasn't going to ask about you having, uh.."

"-AAAnnyway, the moment I set down my briefcase bag it starts leakin' a sleeping gas and I keep him distracted. Soon enough he's out like a light and I crack open the hollowed out copy of 'Auctions Uncatalogued: A Dry Fuckin' History Book' for a few supplies. I knew he was a thicc bastard, so I came prepared with some oil and string to get the ring off, as well as gloves to keep the guy's taste outta my brain."

"What does that mean??"

"I'm not gonna explain how to get little rings offa big fingers, bud. Ask the internet. OH, I also filched his shirt- a blue henley kinda' thing, and his slacks. The car keeps movin' and I use his weird-Nexi-phone to call his broad, who is very occupied in some high-stakes gambling and tell 'er using her husband's voice that I need her ring to make an exchange of some Nexan technology in the safe for the super legit fairy lamp some vampire just showed me. I shapeshift into the husband, put on his clothes, and am in and out of the casino without the broad suspecting a thing. She hands me the ring, I complain bitterly about her not spendin' enough time with me, she tells me not now and goes back to her gambling. Perfect marriage. An hour later I've exchanged their top-grade arcane technology for a dinky old lamp and am waitin' around for the wife to show up." Kazimier finishes, quirking his brow as he drinks some of his cocktail.

After a few moments it seems like he;s truly done, but it might be another instance of him leading you to egg him on. "Well what happened when the wife showed up?" you ask, hooked despite yourself.

Kazimier's grin widens, "She found a brown-haired vampress in her penthouse wearing nothing but her husbands blue henley." He takes in your expression and keeps going, "The broad probably would've killed me if I didn't 'confess' that her husband had just left for the bar in the lobby with the other girl. Boy did that lie get her back out the door in an instant. From there I put a little oil in a glass cup, light it with a match, an' drop the little moltov offa' the balcony. A signal to get in position. I count to sixty and jump off myself- make my getaway."

You lean back, taking in the convoluted mind you're sitting with tonight, somewhat stunned. "Wait- Why did you need to borrow my enchanted shovel, then?" you add, happy that it was returned to you clean and unharmed the moment you sat down but curious since Kazimier said it was needed for this heist.

"Oh, that? I killed the husband." Kazimier says with a casual shrug.

"You used my shovel to bury a Nexan?!" you hiss, leaning forward. This wasn't what you expected at all when Kazimier offered you a deal.

Kazimier leans forward, all the humor gone from his face, only the tilt of his head hinting at his amusement. "I used your very unique shovel to kill, a Nexan, sunshine." He kills his drink and with a parting chuckle you and your shovel are left behind, tools that have fulfilled their use and you realize with ice in your blood why Kazimier just told you everything.

Tonight is your final meeting with this criminal.

Taggames: Taggames: @katenewmanwrites @smellyrottentrees @wyked-ao3 @lychhiker-writes @cowboybrunch @zackprincebooks @urbiggestfan-01 @quillswriting @tragedycoded

[canterburyappraisal]

Unlocking Your Home Dreams: Canterbury Mortgage Advisor

Unlocking Your Home Dreams: Canterbury Mortgage Advisor" is a title that encapsulates the essence of the services provided by a mortgage advisor in Canterbury. It highlights the advisor's role in helping individuals and families achieve their dreams of homeownership. The title implies that the mortgage advisor has the expertise and knowledge to guide clients through the complex process of securing a mortgage, navigating financial options, and ultimately unlocking the door to their dream home. It suggests a personalized and supportive approach, emphasizing the advisor's dedication to understanding clients' unique needs and assisting them in making informed decisions about their mortgage journey in the Canterbury area.

[robertsbig60]

We Buy Homes Dallas, Investment Property

We Buy Homes Dallas, Investment Property

We Buy Homes Dallas, Lots of investors are looking to get started, and as active real estate experts in Dallas, Tx., we get asked to share our secrets quite a bit. One of the biggest questions we get from local investors is how do we find to find a good investment property, as usual my answer is “we buy homes Dallas.” Fortunately, we love to share :-). As we share what we do to find…

[the-whatcherof-89]

Pearlescentmoon aka Pearl Moo the Un-beelivable Postmaster.

CR 18 NG/NE Medium Humanoid Shapechanger.

XP 153,600 (if used as npc for encounter)Human Entothrope Werewasp(Bee variant)Vigilante (Splintersoul)17

Neutral Good/Evil Medium humanoid Shapechanger(Human, vermin)

Init +6; Senses Perception +27 Darkvision 60ft Low light vision

AC 29, touch 19, flat-footed 23 (+6 Dex, +4 Deflection, +9 Armor) (+2Natural armor in Hybrid/vermin form) Hp 165 (17d8+85) (17 temporary Hp while in Hybrid/Vermin form)

Fort +17, Ref +22, Will +16 (+1 in Fortitude and Reflexes while in Hybrid/vermin form)

Speed 30 ft, 20ft climb, 60ft flying(good) Melee Axes+20/15/10 1D6+2(+9d8 precision damage) 

Only in hybrid/vermin form: 2 Natural attack+18 1d4+2 Sting+18 1d8+2 plus poison(DC24 1/round for 6 rounds 1d2 Dex cure 1 save) and curse of entothropy DC15 Ranged Crossbow +19 1D8+3(+9d8 precision damage)

Racial Bonus feat (Master crafter), +1 Skill point per level, Speed 30 ft, Change shape Hybrid/vermin form(+2 Natural armor+2Dex +2Con, DR 5/silver, 20ft climb, 60ft flying, Darkvision 60ft, Low light vision, Natural attacks, Curse of entothropy), Entothropic emphaty, Insect mind.

Traits Excellent penmanship, Empty mask.

Class features Splintered identity, Seamless guise, Vigilante specialization: Stalker(+9d8 precision damage), Social talents: Renown, Celebrity discount, Great renown, Social grace[Bluff, Intuition, Stealth], Safe house, Quick change, Sudden change, Surprising change, Vigilante talents: Lethal grace(natural attacks, axe), Evasive, Cunning feint, Blind spot, Hide in plain sight.

Str 10, Dex 22, Con 20, Int 14, Wis 10, Cha 24

Base Atk +12/7/2; CMB +18; CMD +28

Feats Strong personality, Extra vigilant feats: Strike the unseen, Vital punishment, Up close and personal, Combat skill(Improved vital strike, Greater vital strike), Shield of blades, Signature weapon(axe), Returning weapon.

Skills Acrobatics +16, Appraise +6, Bluff +17, Climb +8, Craft(Stone & Metal) +20, Diplomacy +11, Disguise +20, Disable device+20, Escape artist +12, Intimidate +20, Knowledge (Dungeon +6, Engineering +6, Local +6, Nobility +6), Linguistics +3, Perception +17, Perform(oratory) +11, Profession(Postwoman) +10, Ride +10, Sense motive +4, Sleight of hand +15, Spellcraft +19, Stealth +26, Survival +5, Swim +10, Use magic device +11.

Languages Common, Draconic, Elven, Orchis, Aquan, Infernal, Vermin empathy.

Combat gear Distance Cunning Light crossbow+1, 50+2 Bolts, Merciful huntsman axe+2, Silencing axe+2, Ring of protection+4, Shadow mithral chain shirt+5, Belt of physical might+4 (Dex, Con), Headband of mental prowess+4 (Int, Cha, Spellcraft), Cloak of resistance+4, Amulet of mighty fists+2, Burglar boots(minor), Gloves of reconnaissance, Coat of pockets, Courier’s secret pouch, Hat of disguises, Black marketeer’s bag, Bookmark of deception, Codex of conversation, Corset of the Vishkanya, 4 Potions of Cure critical wounds , Manual of quickness of action+2(Used), Tome of leadership and influence+2(Used), 6 Doses of Blue Whinnis, Vigilante’s kit, Postmaster’s outfit, Mwk thieves tools, 2 Cats(Nugget & Olive), 10GP, The crimson shroud(Artifact).

The crimson shroud: This artifact is a ring with many ruby shards poking from the golden surface and glows and eerily crimson during the nights of full moon creating a full red cloak to shield the user. During said nights, the holder of the ring becomes even more unhinged and powerful granting a +6 bonus on Natural armor Strength and Constitution (an effect similar to the barbarian rage but without any other effects). The user feels compelled to perform acts of violence for no reason or under some animalistic instinct but NEVER against other creatures of the same kin(like humans or other bee creatures). While the user cannot notice or remember the acts it has an instinct to prevent to remove the ring as it makes the user immune to fear and charms that would even “suggest” to remove it. Furthermore, the ring rewards those that performs act of violence (even under guise) by granting the holder a regenerative ability healing the individual by 2Hp each round and increasing by 1 for every victim or defeated target (to a maximum of 10) during the night. The ring is said to be made with the crystallized blood of a war god and the only way to destroy it is to find his corpse and deliver it. To remove it from the finger without harming the user, one must use a couple of Rings Gates to deliver the ring on the other side at 100 miles, then have it being pulled out using a DC25 Strength check.

Background PearlescentMoon simply known as Pearl or Mrs Moo is one of the many inhabitants of the land of Hermits where many buildings defy the laws of possibility and brings wonder to those who lay their eyes upon them. Pearl is known as one of the many that helped to build many of these wonders, especially for Grian. She is in her own right a great builder herself that loves to mix various styles and she is known to have recently created a postal service along with Ethoslab and Tangotek where she is the Postmaster. She is a friendly outgoing person, especially with the “Soup Group” composed of Geminitay and ImpulseSV. However, deep beneath some people remember another Pearl, a red one, one that predated, hunted, killed: the Scarlet Pearl. Very few remember the events that transpired during the events known as Double Life but one that stood was when Pearl fell into a different more “Scarlet”persona, one that spilled the blood of both friends and foes. For some unknown reasons(maybe for the best) Pearl thinks that the event was but a dream. Who knows, maybe the other hermits subdued her to make her forget the event and let her return to her “better self” or maybe something more macabre occurred, no one knows. However, while her work distract her form these dreams she keeps seeing them especially during the full moon. One night she was restless and could not sleep so she went for a walk, the night was clear and tranquil but her fear of seeing again those dreams was more real than ever. “Do you want to be free of those dreams? I can make it happen.” Said a voice. Pearl jolted but found no one she was alone. “If you want to discover your crimson self and surpass it come find me, if you can. A guiding light is however, mandatory.” And she noticed a crimson light coming from a small hole in the ground. Pearl heard whispers in her head and could not resist, her hand reached in and as it came out it was wearing a golden ring with rubies on it. As soon as that happened the world changed around her and she found herself in a new land close to a town in front of an abandoned postal office. Her memories wandered but could not remember much, however she remained under her instinct as postmaster and carried on her duty not knowing that the night would have called for her other self to spread and grow her hive using her sting and punishing the criminals around the land. The Crimson Pearl was reborn, albeit a little different.

Image made using Heroforge.

[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Epilogue

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.2K

Three Years Later

28 Melona

“Another year, Wolf’ika.” Cody paused on the grassy path and appraised the orchard. “You should be proud of this.”

Wolffe flashed his vod a smile. “I am.”

In the six months since Cody last visited, the citrus-star trees had matured past their two-year adolescence into adulthood. Their trunks had thickened into sturdy structures larger than Neyti’s body; the lowest branches skimmed Wolffe’s head.

Wolffe and Kazi had planted the twenty seeds together but the orchard was his responsibility. Hours researching Ceaia’s nutrient-rich soil, speaking with local farmers, tilling the soil, and caring for the seeds paid off. The orchard produced bunches of citrus-stars monthly. Enough for his family. And enough to sell at the local farmer’s market. 

“I’ve added a new beehive,” Wolffe said. He gestured to the end of the row where an amber hive hung from a branch, well hidden among the dense cluster of leaves. It was his fifth hive. And his most productive. “It’s done well.”

“To know that you did become a farmer…” Cody chuckled his incredulity. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

Wolffe inclined his chin in agreement. 

While Kazi worked at Outlook Harbor’s Museum of History and Neyti attended school, Wolffe spent his days out here alone: tending the orchard; nurturing the garden’s assortment of fruits, vegetables, and herbs (for both meals and Nova’s research); monitoring the bees. ‘Til Fox interrupted. Then his quiet and solitude were ruined. 

But the early morning hours, after his run, he had to himself. Just him and the lazing leaves and the humming bees. 

“Kazi and Neyti?” Cody asked. They hadn’t been at the house when he landed half an hour ago.

“Weekly lessons at the museum,” Wolffe said.

The lessons began two years ago when, intrigued by Kazi’s translation work, Neyti asked to learn the ancient Ceaian language. Kazi agreed with a casual smile. But Wolffe had seen her hidden delight. Her excitement. He was well-studied in her subtle tells, after all. 

“I’m meeting them later,” Wolffe added. Cody arched a brow, and he shrugged with a chuckle. “I don’t know where we’re going. They want it to be a surprise.”

The gray of dawn cast the orchard in foggy darkness, dulling the pale orange of the trees’ fronds. Wolffe reached for a leaf larger than his hand and rubbed it between his fingers; the fuzzy trichomes tickled his palm. It brought a half-smile to his face.

They continued forward, turning at a fork in the path where, frowning, Cody nudged a pink bush with his boot.

“Neyti and Steiner like to play here,” Wolffe explained. He smiled. “I couldn’t say no. And they’re good for the bees.”

His vod shook his head fondly. “And Fox?”

Wolffe ducked beneath a branch. “You could ask him.”

“I could.” But he wouldn’t. 

Cody returned to Coruscant the week they completed renovation on the lighthouse. The decision had gutted Neyti as much as it angered Fox. Fox had expected them to remain together. To settle down and remove themselves from the threat of the Empire. To live out the rest of their lives in relative peace. But Cody disagreed with Fox’s sentiments. They argued; they parted on bad terms.

Every few months, Cody visited. He spent most of his time painting with Neyti, helping Wolffe with the garden, hiking with Nova. During those brief visits, Fox disappeared to the lighthouse. He avoided meals. Avoided any interaction with Cody. For Fox, Cody’s decision to leave Ceaia—to leave his vode—was a betrayal. 

A year and a half dredged by before Fox begrudgingly apologized. Cody accepted the apology with characteristic understanding. Wolffe knew the fight had weighed on Cody; just like he knew Fox would never understand Cody’s decision. 

But Wolffe understood Cody’s decision. Cody threw himself into work to deal with his guilt, and working with Rex and the clone network provided an escape. 

Wolffe also knew that Cody couldn’t remain on Ceaia. Not after Daria’s death. He hardly blamed his vod. The nightmares still haunted him on occasion. Nightmares where Daria and Neyti deboarded the transport at the Naboo spaceport without Kazi. Each time he awoke sweaty and panting, reaching for Kazi. 

Touching her, feeling her heartbeat in her wrist, sliding his finger along the tattoo of his initials—W.E.—on the inner skin of her fourth finger—it freed him from the nightmare’s lingering grasp. 

He didn’t blame Cody. Not one fucking bit. 

“Fox helps with the garden and orchard. But he doesn’t like the bees,” Wolffe said. Cody smirked in amusement. “He’s been spending a lot of time carving the fence.”

Nearby, a detailed dragon prowled the top of the dark-wooded fence protecting the orchard. Cody admired the carving. “And the annals?”

Last year, the annals evolved from Fox’s personal project to a museum-financed publication. It was Nova’s idea: an admitted desire to publicly preserve the stories of the vode he’d lost. 

“They deserve to be remembered,” Nova had told Wolffe and Fox late one night while he paced the carpeted basement. “And not just by me. But by the people they protected, too.”

Kazi had recently started her job at the museum (as a translator of the dying Ceaian language, she was scribing some of the oldest scrolls on loan from the Library of Xand), and reached out to the museum’s director. 

A few private meetings led to an agreement: Fox would organize his interviews into a chronological timeline, and the museum would publish the stories into three annals. They would be the first historical record of the War. The only record from the soldiers who fought in it. 

“They’re coming along,” Wolffe said. New interviews continued to appear every few months thanks to Cody’s efforts to connect various men with Fox. “The first two years are almost complete.”

Cody gave a pleased nod. 

The path veered to the right, toward the house. Low-hanging leaves tickled their hair and brushed their shoulders. They passed through the gate, wandering deeper into the forest, the tree cover thickening. The smell of burning wood drifted on the breeze; they followed its scent.

“I have another interview,” Cody said. At his smug tone, Wolffe snorted. “From Rex.” 

Wolffe blinked his surprise. “He agreed?” 

Cody smirked. “I convinced him.”

“You’re next,” he said. Cody rolled his eyes, and he shoved his vod in the shoulder. “Stop being a prick.”

“You haven’t done it,” Cody retorted.

“Did it last week.” He winked at his vod’s appalled look but soon sobered, shrugging. “It was time.”

“Fuck.” Cody scrubbed a hand across his jaw. Weariness lined his eyes and forehead, and he let out a deep sigh. “I’ll…think about it.”

Nearing the front of the house, the low voices of Fox and Nova discernible over the crackle of the fire, Cody motioned for Wolffe to halt. He angled his head toward Nova. “How’s he doing?”

“Nova’s a grown man, Cod’ika,” Wolffe said gently. “He’s making his own life. And he’s doing a damn good job at it.”

“I know,” Cody murmured. “I thought that…” He cleared his throat and straightened. “I’m glad he’s doing well.”

Wolffe was surprised when Nova decided to stick around after Cody left. Throughout the War, and after, he’d remained loyal to Cody. The type of loyalty only the best commanding officers earned from their subordinates. Wolffe had once earned a similar loyalty from his men. Before Order 66. Before he bailed on the Empire. Before he fled his own men trying to gun him down for betraying orders.

But Wolffe quickly realized the reason behind Nova’s decision: Nova was ready to move on from the past. And that meant parting ways with Cody. 

Within a few weeks of Cody’s departure, Nova applied for a researcher’s job at the local med center. There, he began researching a medicinal alternative to bacta. A solution to the Empire’s control and restriction over the healing aid. (Kazi gave him Daria’s old research books for inspiration or potential leads.)

The work kept Nova busy most days but he seemed to enjoy it. Neyti had even shown an interest in his work. Some afternoons, after school, he took her to the med center and let her help with his experiments. 

“You know,” Wolffe said, clapping a hand to Cody’s back, “there’s a place for you here. Whenever you want it.”

“The Rebellion needs me—”

“You need the Rebellion.” Wolffe levelled a hard look at Cody. “But it won’t clear your conscience.”

Cody squared his shoulders. “Yeah. I know.”

Wolffe offered him a grim smile and then made his way toward the sputtering fire. The embers glowed in the darkness of the evergreen and sequoia forest; the flames kept the early morning shadows at bay.

For the next two hours, Wolffe and his vode downed glasses of whiskey, swapped stories they all knew, and played rounds of sabaac. Nova won; Wolffe was convinced he’d cheated. 

As the forest lightened, the whiskey warming his blood, Wolffe tugged a sweater over his head, nodded to the others, and then started the trek to the docks. He was unsurprised when Fox followed.

The grassy cliff path spat them out at the shore. The low tide revealed bubbling sand pockets, a burrowing crab, and the booted footprints of a woman and child who’d passed through earlier. 

“Three years,” Fox said, surveying the faint sunrise with a pensive expression. “A lot has changed.”

“It’s what you wanted,” Wolffe remarked.

“Yeah.” Slowly, his vod rolled the sleeves of his maroon sweater. “Never thought I’d end up on an ocean planet again.”

He chuckled. “It’s better than Kamino.”

“Anywhere is better than there,” Fox said. The vitriol underscoring his comment wasn’t lost on Wolffe; he knew Fox’s feelings well enough. Adjusting the cuff of his right sleeve, Fox cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

Wolffe gave a wordless grunt of confusion. 

“For getting me off Coruscant.” Fox motioned to their surroundings. “This is a good place to retire.”

He snorted. “Only took you four years.”

“Fuck off.” Fox halted, running a hand through his hair, observing Wolffe with hesitant solemnity. He sighed. “I’m…grateful to be here.”

Wolffe nodded slowly. “Me too.”

He took a moment to breathe in the fresh air, to watch the sun cresting the oceanic horizon, to grasp Fox’s shoulder and give him a firm shake. Fox threw him a grin. One of those knowing grins he used when they were boys and was about to challenge Wolffe to a particularly ambitious dare. Wolffe hadn’t seen Fox grin like that in a long time. He’d missed it.

“Give my love to the women,” Fox said, shoving his hands into his trousers’ pockets. He backed away a step. “And don’t drown. I’d grow bored without you.”

Wolffe rolled his eyes and turned away. 

A jog along the shore brought him to the docks. Scents of freshly baked bread, citrus fruits, and spiced soups wafted from the colorful buildings. Younglings sprinted the walkways. Sailors shouted orders as they prepared their ships. 

Regardless of the earliness of the day, Outlook Harbor bustled with life. Wolffe nodded to the woman at the bakery (she sold jars of his honey), shook his head at a small boy begging for a cup of shaved ice (he could relate to the father’s fond exasperation), and lifted a hand of acknowledgement to the elderly florist (she liked Kazi and Neyti). With a sharp turn, he strode down a familiar dock— 

“Daddy!”

He broke into a wide grin.

Legs dangling over the side of the sailboat, Neyti waved, her smile toothy. Beside her, Fluffy thumped his tail in greeting. The moment Wolffe boarded the boat the anooba knocked his head against his legs. He gave the canine a scratch behind his ears. 

Over the years, Fluffy had matured into a calm yet protective force. A good soldier. Wolffe would know; he’d served with plenty of them. 

“Hey, kid.” Wolffe kissed the top of Neyti’s head. Her hair was tied back in her classic double braids, the style he’d perfected with hours of practice on Kazi. “You ready?”

“Yup. Mum let me raise the sails.” Neyti nodded at the main mast. “We were waiting on you.”

While Neyti finished a glass of lemon juice, Wolffe inspected their work. Unnecessary thanks to Kazi’s expertise but he didn’t want to feel excluded from the prep. “Where is your mom—”

“It’s about time.” Kazi strolled from the cabin space beneath the deck, a bouquet in her hands, her hazel eyes beaming with mirth. “Happy life day.”

Wolffe grinned. He couldn’t help himself. The morning sun seemed as eager about Kazi as he felt. It cast her in a pinkish hue that made her skin glow. She kissed his cheek; his skin burned beneath the touch. 

With an easy smile, Wolffe accepted the bouquet. Gray and long-petaled, the flowers complimented the wolf on his sweater and the socks he could see peeking above Kazi’s boots. The socks he’d given her long ago—the gray a claim to his pack.

Under the pretense of smelling the flowers, Wolffe scrutinized Kazi. He liked her like this: a carefree, dimpled smile; hands casually tucked in the back pockets of her trousers; an adventurous twinkle in her eyes. Seeing her like this…fuck,it inspired different wants within him. 

He wanted to hold her close and smell her lavender soap. He wanted his head in her lap while her fingers played with his hair. He wanted to sit on their porch and listen to her talk about her translation work. He wanted to taste her, pleasure her until she was sated and pliant. He wanted her naked beneath this soft sunlight so he could admire every toned muscle and delicate plane of her body—

“Are you going to stare at Mum all day or can we go?” Neyti jumped to the deck, piercing him with an exasperated frown. Wolffe rubbed the back of his neck. “Your surprise won’t be waiting all day.”

“Demanding, much?” Kazi flicked their daughter’s forehead. Neyti responded with a sheepish grin. Chuckling, Kazi shared a private, knowing smile with him—that damned smile he’d beg on his knees for a glimpse of—and then started for the docking line. “Come on. Neyti’s right—we want to get there in time.”

Navigated by her skilled captain, the sailboat chugged through the harbor’s dark blue waves, passing through the breakwater where two dragons sat on guard: the twins, Bellu and Xap. Most harbors, Kazi once told him, were protected by the twins.

For the lateness of the summer, the ocean was well-tempered, sincere in its embrace of salty wind and bobbing waves. While Wolffe stood at the helm with Kazi wondering where they were going, Neyti and Fluffy leaned against the bow’s railing, searching for sea creatures.

Soon, their billowing sails brought them to their destination: the clear waters of the islet. 

Wolffe chuckled his appreciation. Both his wife and daughter knew the islet was one of his favorite places to visit: a lush forest with foxlike creatures that often attempted to nick his broken wristchrono; a clearing with a bubbling stream that could ease the worst tension from him; and the turtles—docile creatures he liked to swim with. 

Anchor dropped and wetsuits assorted, the islet’s shallows welcomed them. They swam among iridescent corals. Seaweed swayed at a lethargic pace, pearlescent seashells blinking like stars among a sandy sky. 

After a lunch of cubed melons, peppered cucumbers, vegetable cheese sandwiches, and a dessert of Wolffe’s favorite cherry pie, they returned to the waters. 

Awakened by the sun’s rays, the turtles emerged from their caves. The youngest was Neyti’s size; the largest neared Wolffe’s height. Dark brown geometric shapes decorated the turtles’ domed shells and long flippers. Their delicate heads poked curiously at the humans. 

Wolffe took photos of Kazi and Neyti swimming among the bale. He had a large collection of photos at home: some decorated the wall in his and Kazi’s bedroom; others adorned the main level’s mantelpiece and bookshelves. 

The photos were proof. Proof that he’d survived. Proof that he’d got to live out his dreams. 

The holorecorder swapped hands. Kazi snapped photos of him and Neyti; Neyti, with artistic flair, captured a few of him and Kazi. Both broke into giggles when Kazi snapped a photo of a turtle biting his foot. He grinned along with them, even if his toes ached. 

Eventually, the white, billowy clouds of afternoon gave way to golden-dappled clouds of evening. Pale white hummingbirds whizzed among the islet’s shores and the sailboat. Curled near the hull, Fluffy watched the tiny birds with intrigue.  

While Kazi sat alone on the shore, studying Daria’s old necklace and the photo within its locket, Wolffe joined Neyti on the sailboat’s railing. Beneath their hanging feet, the turtles lazed. Neyti peeled a citrus-star. An even split and she offered half to Wolffe. He accepted with a small smile.

“Good day?” Wolffe asked.

Neyti grinned. “The best.”

“Any new painting ideas?”

“Lots. Steiner and I are going to the lighthouse to paint tomorrow.” She plucked a citrus-star piece into her mouth and then scrutinized him. “You have a request.”

“Clever girl,” Wolffe said. Her smug smile earned a low chuckle from him. 

Reaching into a pocket of his tossed-aside trousers, Wolffe retrieved his wallet and a small photo tucked within. A photo of him, Kazi, and Neyti in front of the lighthouse last month. 

He remembered the moment clearly. The night’s constellations were winking into existence. Gentle waves were lapping at the shore, the temperature cool. He was staring at Kazi, holding Neyti’s hand, when he was struck with the reminder that this was his life. That he was married and had a daughter. That his vode were alive. That he was alive. It was hard to believe, sometimes.

“I’d like a painting of this,” Wolffe said thickly, showing Neyti the photo. “Think you can do that?”

Neyti narrowed her eyes as she appraised the image. “Is it for Mum’s life day?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll do it,” she promised. 

He nodded his thanks and carefully tucked the photo back into his wallet. 

After a minute of silence, interrupted only by the rocking waves and the whizzing hummingbirds, Neyti peered at him. “Did you like your life day?” 

Wolffe considered his daughter for a long moment. 

Over the years, she’d grown taller. Most of her adult teeth had come in, though one gap remained. (He hoped it took a long time to fill.) While her quiet nature continued to shape her curious yet shrewd outlook, her sharp wit and stubborn attitude persisted, especially during sparring lessons with Fox. 

She still enjoyed her princess stories. She still enjoyed learning new dragon lore. He and Kazi still read to her in bed. 

But Neyti was maturing. And he was keen to appreciate each moment of her childhood he had left.

Slipping a piece of citrus-star into his mouth, Wolffe knocked his elbow against Neyti’s. “I couldn’t have asked for a better one.”

As night swarmed and sharks began their hunt, they returned to Outlook Harbor. 

A blanket sprawled, bellies warm with vegetable curry, buttered flatbread, and chocolate-covered honeycomb, they settled among the sailboat’s deck. Wolffe accepted a pair of earplugs from Kazi. Neyti nestled herself between them. 

An effervescent display of fireworks lit the sky. Streams of silver and gold complimented the swooping figures of dragons. Regal purples and bottomless blues emphasized the dragons’ idiosyncratic prowess. 

The world silent, Wolffe split his time between watching the show and observing Kazi and Neyti’s reactions. 

Neyti watched the fireworks with a dimpled grin of awe. Kazi spent an equal amount of time watching the displays and studying him. At one of her subtle glances, he tapped the side of his head and winked. He felt an innate satisfaction at her small smile and relaxing posture. 

Later that night, locked in their bedroom, entangled on their bed, Wolffe held Kazi closer to his chest. They were both shaking, their breaths ragged. He could still feel her cunt fluttering around his oversensitive cock. He stifled a moan against her shoulder. 

Heat thrummed beneath his skin. His mind worked slowly, dazed by his orgasm. Instinctively, he brushed a hand down the smooth skin of Kazi’s spine. Her soft exhale tickled the hair curling around his ear, her thighs flexing around his waist.

“Good?” he asked. 

She gave a tired yet content nod and ran a finger along the silver bar piercing his nipple. He shivered at the sensation. His cock twitched inside of her. The corners of her lips quirked in amusement. He offered her a lazy grin. She repeated the touch once more, kissed his cheek, and then maneuvered herself from his lap to the mattress.

Wolffe quickly followed, kneeling between her legs, staring down at her. She was…fuck, she was more beautiful than those rare, sunny days on Kamino. 

The moonlight caressed her body in warm shades of amber: the flush to her cheeks, the blackness to her eyelashes, the curves of her breasts, the muscles of her arms. Her unbound hair crowned her head like faded autumnal leaves. Her eyes were dark, bliss-filled. 

He surveyed her, his mind blank of coherent thought. All he knew was that he wanted to stay like this for a long time.

“You’re staring,” Kazi murmured.

“Mm-hmm.” Settling himself atop her, he twirled a strand of hair around his finger and then placed a kiss on the underside of her jaw. “Say it.”

She skimmed a palm along his biceps; he trembled at the touch. “I love you,” she whispered.

A kiss to the sensitive spot behind her ear followed. At her breathy sigh, a warm feeling fluttered behind his ribcage. He murmured, “Again.”

“I love you.”

He swallowed and then lowered his face to hers. His mouth brushed the white scar near the corner of her eye. “Again.”

A finger tipped his face back; her eyes danced with affection. “I love you.”

Wolffe smiled at the promise in her words. Their lips grazed. He curled his fingers into her loose hair; he breathed against her skin, “I love you.”

As he deepened the kiss, Kazi brought him closer, her hands trailing across his back. He shuddered beneath her wandering fingers. His cock throbbed. A quiet moan broke their kiss. He pursued her neck. Warm skin welcomed his mouth. 

He took his time, tracing the lines of her collarbone with his tongue, sucking long and slow on the underswell of her breasts, skimming his fingers across her ribcage, her throat, her face. 

One hand played with his hair; the other massaged his shoulders, the back of his neck. Deep kneading eased the stiffness from his body. A teasing caress of his earlobe made him groan. 

Their kisses slowed to lingering; their touches turned drowsy. 

Wolffe pressed his forehead against Kazi’s, squeezed her hip, and then lowered himself onto his back. Extending an arm behind her head, he glanced at the nightstand. Atop his trusted notebook sat his present: a silver, sleek wristchrono.

He’d been eyeing it for months. Hell, he should’ve known that Kazi would notice his subtle glances at the shop window each time they visited the harbor. 

Wolffe trailed a finger across the tiny, cursive inscription on the ‘chrono’s band: So you can always find your way home. He blinked away the burning sensation behind his eyes.

“Thirty, Wolffe,” Kazi murmured, tracing the initials inked into his fourth finger: K.E. “How does it feel?”

“It doesn’t feel real,” Wolffe admitted. He skimmed his thumb along her shoulder. “I…never thought I could have this. And now…” 

Years training with his vode, years believing he’d die on the battlefield, years fighting alongside his men, yet he outlived them all… 

He’d never understand why he’d survived. He’d never understand why he’d been allowed to experience this—finding Kazi, raising Neyti, starting his own farm. But he’d learned long ago that he couldn’t control fate. And those men who’d died—they’d want him to live the life they didn’t get to. He owed them. And he’d make the most of what he was given. 

“I’m glad this is real,” he said quietly. “Real fucking glad.”

A thoughtful hum sounded from Kazi, and she peered at him: hesitant yet curious. “Do you feel alive?”

Wolffe thought back to years ago, to stars reflected among a stilled lake’s surface, to lightning bugs flickering among an overgrown jungle, to hazel eyes rounded with vulnerability and soft lips he wanted to touch, to a quiet conversation he’d never forgotten.

“Yeah. I do.” He let out a chuckle, surprised by the swiftness of his answer. Surprised by the truth behind it. He searched Kazi’s gaze. “Do you?”

A slow smile lit her face, wide and dimpled and so full of life. “I do.”

For a long time, Wolffe basked in her smile and the heat of her body curled against his, and when she kissed the side of his throat, he turned his gaze to the skylights. The Dancing Dragons twinkled, their central star bright in the night sky. Kazi nuzzled her nose against his jaw; he mapped the tattoo on her spine.

“Tell me the story, Kazi,” he murmured. “Start from the beginning.”

He felt her smile against his neck. As she started to speak, he closed his eyes, sinking into the mattress, relaxing into the lavender scent of her hair and the sleepy lilt of her voice: 

“Every night a female dragon soared amongst the stars.”

Masterlist | Chapter 31

A/N: For a deeper look into this story and its characters, check out the Behind the Scenes.

Artwork of Kazi, Wolffe, and Neyti by the phenomenal @pinkiemme!

[herbgerblin]

That new job sounds really cool! If you don't mind my asking, how do you end up in that line of work? Is it a case of needing an art history degree or similar?

I came at it sideways. I was job hunting since last October and extremely tired of working in marketing. In February, I was hoping to volunteer or intern at my local arts center. They were looking for people with experience in galleries and auction houses, and I didn't have that. So I started applying to those businesses, and the first auction house I applied to reached out super quickly. It's actually two businesses in one: auctions and film prop/furniture rentals.

If you're studying art history, consumer research, or library science, those skills will definitely make identifying the age/materials of items a lot easier. Having hands-on experience can also be a plus. I have a BA in advertising, which only scratched the surface of art history. But I'm a fast researcher and typer, and I've followed a few estate sales for years, so they took me on. I learned the catalog formatting quickly and showed them how to color manipulate really hard-to-read signatures in Photoshop.

Fortunately, the job provides access to a lot of art databases, previous auction sales, and my boss let me borrow books about materials that I was having difficulty describing. (I also bugged @marywhal a little. sorry allison, I promise you will be the first to know when we sell the uranium glass.) I have been aggressively bookmarking articles about manufacturers' marks on silverware and antique glass, cultural symbols, ceramic techniques, paleography, etc. And I've been checking out stacks of library books on antiques.

It took me a while to understand that this particular role isn't about appraisal, but market taste. An item's inherent value + market demand = sale price estimate. A ceramic vase by a particular artist may be in higher demand in one region than another, so you must account for that. Sometimes really good art isn't in demand. If we learn something cool about an item's history, that's fun and fine. But a sale is a sale. The catalog descriptions have a word limit, they have to be objective, and we have to use buzzwords for max searchability.

We move stuff around a lot in the warehouse and everything is sold online, so I don't have to wear professional clothes. YOU WILL probably research erotica (this past week I cataloged a lot of male nudes and my coworker (currently an art history major) had to catalog a vintage vibrator.) My boss reads multiple languages and will take over anything I can't translate. There's no pressure to understand everything, just as much as you can.

[therichantsim]

Okay so boom. In my head @cinamun​‘s HoJay recently had their house appraised and was about to take out a loan to do some small renovations since they're now expecting twins. However, thanks to a real estate mogul friend they got an inside track on market projections for the next few years. Prices are going to be bananas and affordable housing is going to be scarce! So, it was advised that now was the best time to sell and upgrade to a larger home and still find a decent price tag.

So here’s the house they’ll be moving to after they get settled once the babies are here.

36 Bayani Place, Hopewell Hills 5br/4bths 30x20 lot valued at §73,918 Classic craftsman style home with original charm and architecture. House could work on larger lot for added yard space for an additional cost. Especially since they would essentially be looking at the exact same view as their current house.