#I jest. I would never spend more than $30 on clothing

[llycaons]

friendship ended with target now [impractically expensive designer store] is my new best friend

[sorcerers-quest]

I'm listening to an essay on the rust belt and how industrialization in America moved to other countries and states where labor, taxes, and materials would be cheaper and they could get away with worse practices (illegal dumping, unsafe work environments, long hours, etc) and what came of this was rioting in the rust belts region, and police brutality. all in like, the 1800s? and like I don't remember learning about this in school. I feel like maybe this is something that should be thought about again. like eventually we were no longer producing things as much as having service jobs. and that's where we are now I feel. importing everything from out of our country and using cheap labor from poor people in other parts of the world who are loosing their sanity, health, digits, and lives over our entertainment and individualistic living. we don't need as much as we have. for hundreds and thousands of years the clothes you owned were the ones on your back, you didn't have changes of clothes for everything.

"no one wants to work anymore" maybe working in america was awful to begin with, and people don't like suffering or even dying because of their job. and maybe we should start rioting and inciting other countries to join on the same basis, you should not be spending more hours at work than you are awake at home, per week. you should be able to have healthy and happy relationships and the ability to have children who you love and care for as a real human being and not as a burden on your lively hood and paycheck, because having a child is so expensive now the birth rate is so low in America that we won't be having many more generations to take care of things unless we open our borders up to immigration.

if we want things to continue in a "normal" way, 5 hours should be your maximum amount of hours on a shift per day, with 3 days off at minimum. you should be getting paid $30+ per hour, or things you need to survive should be lowered in price. we do not live in a scarcity, we throw out more good and edible food than we sell. we have enough housing, apartments, motels, and places to sleep for everyone. healthcare should be given to you for free by your job, at every job, as long as you are employed. preferably and ideally, it should be free. as you are a human being with the necessity of living and taking care of yourself. companies have the ability and money to hire to hire more people. they just don't want to. because having less than 10 people trained on 4+ stations working one home depot for a shift is cheaper than having 30 people all working their own station. it's cheaper for a dollar general to have 2 employees per shift than 5, so their stores end up never being stocked correctly and just looking like a disaster. the cashier your boomer dad yelled at is making $9/hr while her manager makes $16 and their GM is making a 30k salary. every one. EVERYONE. should be mad. how do you manage to live? you apply for food stamps so the government, who should be forcing your employer to pay you more, can give you $25-200 a month, depending on whatever they feel is right based on the hours your forced to work in order to pay rent. how can you even pay rent, utilities, a phone bill, internet access, literally fucking everything to be able to live a normal life, on top of eating. like????

I'm so pissed off and disappointed I don't know why we aren't running among the streets ripping the intestines out of billionaires. you jest "eat the rich", while I'm heating up my fucking crockpot and getting the meat grinder out. I'm tired of the false prophets out here doing nothing to organize and improve the lifes of themselves and everyone else around them. why are you scared. you have a phone you have internet access and so does the majority of everyone else in this sad and pathetic fucking world like start organizing the revolution now because we will not have a future generation to do it for us

[nad-zeta]

Mochi Madness

Pairings: Vlad x Reader

Words: 2200+

Comments: Eeeeeeeek! Once more HAPPY BIRTHDAY NEEEMOOO! ❤☺hehe I bet we have all become far better at making mochi than we were with the first attempt lol,☺😳😳😳😳 Eeeek I'm super excited to see how our cheesecakes and brownies are going to turn out! whoooop whoooop even more excited to spend the day with ya ! hehe, hope you had a wonderful day neemo filled with all the candy, all the sunshine and all the sweetness! Sending ya infinity catbus hugs! hehe love ya lots! ❤❤😳😳

.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ

The month of July was not a particularly special time of the year for you, but for Vlad, it meant the world, for it was the birth month of his dearest flower. You had insisted multiple times to the man not to make a big deal out of the day of your birth, and after a bit of back and forth, a compromise was made. A morning spent making some delightful birthday treats followed by tea in the garden was the suggestion and one that seemed like an appropriate way to spend your birthday. Not too grand, yet intimate and memorable.

It was the early afternoon of your birthday, a perfect time to make some treats for tea. You were the first to arrive in the kitchen, so you decided to prepare yourself for the mountain to climb. You tied the pink apron around your waist, washed your hands and gathered the ingredients for the battle that was about to commence. Your kitchen had become a war zone, so to say, more so because of your severe lack of cooking abilities.

Your comrade—companion in arms— arrived in due time to lend support and as such, marked the start of the great birthday battle.

Vlad strode through the kitchen doors, taking soft steps as he carried a basket of precious cargo close to him. “Ah, just in time, did you manage to get enough strawberries from the garden,” you asked curiously, shooting a happy smile over your shoulder.

He returned your smile with a gentle one of his own, coming up beside you to place the heavy basket down, pulling the cloth off to reveal a mountain of strawberries. You let go of a gasp in awe. “I think we have enough strawberries to feed an army,” you jested with a playful elbow jab to Vlad’s side.

“I have no intention of sharing these with an army, only with you, my love,” came the light chuckled response from Vlad as he reached over to grab hold of a matching pink apron. It was the cutest apron, littered with bunches of tiny bright red strawberries— a gift from his last birthday— one which he cherished very much for the feature of his favourite food. Despite the airy response, you knew he was dead serious, especially when it came to his beloved strawberries. You shook your head with a smile, memories of past castle shenanigans flashing in your mind— of Faust and Charles stealing Vlad secret stash of berries and the severe punishment that awaited them for their crimes.

Your eyes drifted down to the recipe— it was one you had come across a few weeks ago while searching the library for a book to read. Mochi, it was called; you remembered researching the dish after it had been mentioned in a favourite book of yours. You were always curious about the dish. However, after the main character described the soft, chewy texture, you knew you just had to try the treat for yourself. Hells, you were so excited about wanting to try it out, that you had immediately sought Vlad out in his garden to share the discovery and to find out if in all his years on earth if he had ever come across such a dish.

With a shake of the head and a fond smile shot your way, he suggested that the treat be included as part of your birthday picnic.

It took a bit of searching and lots of researching, but thankfully, with Vlad’s help, the two of you managed to find a small recipe book that featured the soft, chewy dessert.

“Okay, first things first, we need to mix the rice flour and water,” you stated, tapping the recipe in thought as you read a little further to gauge the next few steps to follow.

Meanwhile, Vlad reached out to pick up the two bags of powdery substances laying on the table, crimson eyes scrutinizing the labels. He then turned to you, concern painted over his face, “What’s the difference?” he asked.

Your first obstacle had just arrived; you knew it was one that would come back to haunt you as even after you had found the recipe, one of the ingredients had never been heard of before. You and Vlad hunted far and wide for the rice flour when finally, one day when Vlad was on his way home from the flower shop, he spotted the very flour you required for the baking battle. The only problem was that that shop housed two types of rice flour. So Vlad did what any reasonable person would, he bought them both. It was a problem for future Vlad to deal with.

You looked over at him in confusion, which only seemed to grow when you investigated the labels yourself. “Surely glutinous rice flour and rice flour are the exact same thing,” you stated, stroking your chin and wracking your mind for any differences between the two.

“Let’s see what the recipe says?” Vlad suggested, moving to take a closer look at the book.

“Sweet rice flour,” he read aloud with widened eyes. How was there a third type of rice flour? You tried to decipher the labels for any indication, even going as far as to look at the sugar content hoping that one of them would be higher, as surely that would dub it as sweet rice flour? More sugar equals sweet, right? RIGHT?

After a moment of pondering, and investigating you smiled over at the man with a carefree shrug, “there is only one way to decide which to use.” Vlad looked over at you curiously, raising a brow as he waited for you to reveal your master plan.

”Cover your eyes,” you said with a widening smile and a hint of mischief, carefully taking the two bags from his hands and putting them behind your back.

Once his eyes were closed, you brought the bags forward and placed them down on the counter, keeping a cautious eye on Vlad to make sure he wasn’t peeking. With a satisfied nod, you quickly started shuffling the bags around until even you were unsure which was which.

With a tender smile scattered across his face, Vlad’s eyes twitched to open ever so slightly, if only to catch a glimpse of what you were up to. Unfortunately for him, you had eyes at the back of your head and caught him in the act trying to steal a glance, “Nuh uh, I see you peeking,” you squealed out, quickly rushing behind him and bringing your small hands up to block his vision further.

He tilted his head to the side, puzzled as to just what antics you were up to. As if reading his thoughts, you finally revealed your ingenious plan. “Since neither of us knows the difference between all these flours, we shall let fate do the deciding for us!”

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement, hands extended out in front of him to feel around the counter until finally, they hit one of the bags. After a moment of patting around for the second bag, he randomly picked one up, “this one,” he smiled, turning to lock eyes with you.

You clapped your hands together happily, letting out a gleeful hum, “perfect! Okay, let’s mix it with some water!”

Without care for quantities, you eyeballed the amount of water thrown into the bowl with a satisfied smirk— you never were in the habit of measuring ingredients out accurately, much rather opting to follow your gut.

After the two ingredients were combined in a bowl, you cooked it in a saucepan until a blob of sticky goo formed. You removed it from the heat and set it aside to read the next set of instructions. “Knead,” you stated simply.

Vlad looked at the pot of goo dubiously, giving it a little poke, “is it supposed to be this sticky,” he asked with a troubled expression. Cooking had never really been his strong suit either, despite the years spent on the earth.

“I mean, the recipe didn’t say it shouldn’t look like this, “you responded with a confident shrug and an easy smile. You tried tipping the pot out onto the counter, only for the goo-like substance to remain firmly stuck to the bottom, causing an amused snort to come from Vlad.

“Interesting,” the white-haired man mused, using the spoon to help the goo from the pot to flop onto the counter. He split the mixture in half and gestured for you to knead one half while he took care of the first.

“Here goes nothing,” you said, apprehensive, not entirely sure what kind of end product to expect— as things stood, the pile of goo was neither light nor fluffy, just a sticky mass.

After several moments of trying to knead the glob, you finally broke into laughter, “this is not working,” you looked down at the ‘dough’, most of it being stuck to your hands, the other half stuck to the board.

Your gaze shifted over to Vlad, who seemed to be having about as much luck as you with the dough, but instead of kneading, he was playing with it like goop between his hands, “I bet Johann would like this, reminds me of one of his experiments,” he said with eyes lit up in childlike wonder.

Continuing on your crusade, somehow, you and Vad managed to get the sticky mass of goo into a semi doughlike blob. Left to chill for 30 minutes beneath a heap of cornstarch, you moved onto the next feat, ganache...

Easy enough, you thought scanning the recipe— how wrong you were— how very wrong indeed, as it was anything but simple. You glanced around the kitchen and gulped; Charles was going to kill you when he got home.

The mixing of the chocolate and cream was easy enough, but the shaping of the dark chocolate substance into balls? Now that was a separate feat on its own. After letting the ganache sit in the fridge for a few moments, you were ready to make up and fill your mochi.

A strawberry centre with a chocolate ganache covering. That was the goal, and truly the recipe made it sound so simple. Just make a ball out of the ganache and press the strawberry to the centre, covering it entirely with the chocolate, it said— it will be fun it said, freakin nope! What the recipe didn’t account for was warm hands and sticky chocolate melting and making a giant mess.

Even though the once-pristine kitchen turned warzone from the hurricane that was your and Vlad’s cooking, a smile never left Vlad’s face.

You had to laugh at your pureblood lover covered in chocolate, brows furrowed together as he tried his hardest to wrap the mochi dough around the ever melting chocolate covered strawberry. At some point, to motivate himself between mochi’s, he would pop the ‘flopped strawberries’ into his mouth, you know, to taste test and make sure they were still good.

After 5 successful ish attempts, the two of you decided to call it quits! With a wide grin, you snuck a glance over at Vlad, who finally managed to seal his first chocolate delight in the mochi skin. You clapped your hands and praised him with a ‘bravo.’

After carefully putting your newly made treat into the picnic basket, you turned to Vlad with an impish glimmer in your eyes. “You have a little chocolate right here,” you gestured to the man, startings of a cunning smile falling across your lips.

With a thoughtful hum, he brought his knuckle up to wipe the spot on his cheek, but it was of little use as you simply giggled and shook your head.

“Did I get it?” he asked, crimson eyes looking down at you with nothing but pure love and affection.

Your smile widened, turning Cheshire as you reached your tiny hand covered in chocolate to his face, to leave a playful smear, “nope, it’s right here,” you said, biting back the laughter that threatened to spill from your chest.

“A cunning one, I see,” came his response, with eyes lit up. Before you could jump back, he dipped his fingers in the bowl of chocolate and swiped them across your cheek with a smear to match.

Chimelike laughter filled the kitchen as you and Vlad continued to worsen its state with the third natural disaster of the day, this time in the form of chocolate finger painting. The end of the new battle was marked when Vlad leaned down to steal a kiss from your lips mid-attack. “Sweet,” he remarked with a twinkle in his eye, hand moving from your check to delicate take hold of yours.

“Happy birthday, Draga mea,” the words befell his lips, followed by another tender kiss on the forehead. You responded in kind by giving his hand a squeeze,” shall we go out and have that picnic in the garden? I am rather excited to try these mochis.”

“Anything for you, my love,” he spoke with an affectionate squeeze of the hand, leading you to your favourite spot in the garden.

[chappedandfadedvds]

Jan 22nd, Friday 18:30

note:

I know you just want to read, but I would just like to say that I am really curious to know how many see these posts. so... if you read this and enjoyed this, no matter when you stumbled upon this story of mine:

could you maybe just leave a like on this one?

you don’t have to, no worries. and if it is just the same names, that are already showing me their love through likes and retweets, then that is absolutely fine as well. Because I wrote this for you great souls, who enganged and made me believe that I could finish this.

thank you!

oh and if you liked my writing thus far, please check the last masterpost for this week, which I’ll post later.

__ __ __

Faint music in the background. Them on the bed, stretched out on top of the blankets. On their backs, phones in hands. Each of them caught up in their own digital world as they almost inaudible hummed along the lyrics of the song. 

All the beats fell in between the silence that they shared.

Jens stared a little longer at Jana’s answer. He had felt worse with each day that had passed without his reply, which had only taken him a moment of his time, yet so much more. He turned off the screen, his phone placed next to him, before he turned his head to look at Lucas. 

The younger boy was still occupied. His fingers typing away, his lips mouthing words, that Jens couldn’t hear. He had missed this so much. Had yearned to wake up again next to this boy that had struck him one bleak october morning. Remarkable how fast he had fallen, how gentle the landing had been in the end. So easy to accept and cherish. 

The harder it had hurt to loose the thight grasp on him. Though perhaps he never truly had.

They didn’t even had a plan from here on out. Jens had brought it up on a call two nights ago, but had been cut off by the younger boy. The plan is to hold my hand tomorrow and never let go, Lucas had told him. The smile present in the soft pitch of his voice. Mellow. Calming.

Enough to stop his worry for a little while.

Lucas sighed and lowered his phone to his chest. The moment he faced Jens, his lips curled up and his eyes crinkled at it’s corners, the older boy forgot to breath. Still, after all these weeks.

„Hey, there. You good?“

It was barely above a whisper, yet it felt intrusive, too loud.

„Good enough.“ Jens replied vague, his gaze dropped in the second he spoke, before he was searching for deep blue eyes again. Perhaps this was his ocean to devote himself to.

„Well, Ies texted me that they should be here in, like, half an hour. I can still take them to my place. In case you don’t feel to well and need some quiet. That’s fine.“

„No, don’t worry. I’d rather have you here.“

Lucas huffed amsued, as he shifted closer, leaning in to kiss the older boy, eager to feel the lips on his. He tasted like bitter tea. And Jens loved it only for the times he got to taste it on Lucas’s tongue.

„Ies is so dumb though.“ The younger boy said, as he couldn’t help but chuckle and break off their kiss. Only to press his lips back with even more force a second later. Jens’s fingers tangled in brown locks of hair, as a hand run over his bare chest under his shirt.

„What?“ Jens whispered when he had halted for a moment to gasp for much needed air. He felt like he had missed a part of a conversation, trying to push away the pleasent fog clouding his senses.

„As if we would just make out for hours, when Lotte is around.“

„Sorry, what?“

„That’s what she implied when she texted me. Perhaps a bit more than just making out.“ Lucas explained. His expression graced by a brilliant smirk that needed to be kissed off his face, Jens thought. However it actually made him realise that Isa may not have been so wrong after all. And that wasn’t quite something he wanted in his mind right now.

He threw his head back onto the mattress, his eyes back on the ceiling. He needed his heart to calm and his blood to stop rushing down his vains. The tips of his fingers burning.

The sound of broken glass certainly did the trick. Jens suddenly sobered from his longing thoughts, as he instantly sat in bed, straightened up, listening past the music and past the rustling of sheets from Lucas moving behind him.

„JENS! JEEENS!“ The whine that followed already closed in as feet stomped up the stairs in rapid motion. 

Alarms went off in his head, expecting the worse. The imagine of his mom, on the floor, hand bloodied and in tears, inmidst shards of glass and red drops.

He was already on his feet a second later, and by the door in a heartbeat after, quick to push it open. 

His sister, almost infront of him, had just reached the last step. She looked fine. Unharmed. And yet a little shaken, while big eyes were staring at him in shock.

„Are you okay? What happened?“ Jens asked, a little more at ease with the knowledge that it probably wasn’t as bad as he had feared.

„I pushed the glass of the table and it broke and spilled all the juice over my homework before it fell. And now I have to write it all again.“

Jens wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or laugh at the near heart attack and panic that he had been through just a moment earlier. Perhaps he wanted to just scold Lotte for scarying him that much.

But his little sister still looked rather frightened and close to tears herself, even if it only stemmed from her ruined homework.

He took a deep breath, not trusting his voice to sound reassuring otherwise.

„Alright. I’ll be down in a sec. Maybe you can already get the mob from the bathroom, so we can clean this before Kes and Isa are here?“ Jens suggested and watched his sister trotting back downstairs, after she had nodded and agreed.

Lucas’s arms wrapped around his middle, as he pressed his body against Jens’s back, The younger boy rested his chin on his shoulder, not without dotting his neck with a dozen tender kisses. 

„This child, I swear.“ Jens laughed lightly, already feeling better again. The last couple of weeks had proven to have been a constant up and down. He could only hope that it would begin to settle now that he believed to have find some security in his friend’s and Lucas’s company. He would be fine. 

Not now. Perhaps not next month. But one day.

„Okay then, let’s get this done.“ Lucas decided, while he pushed Jens forward and followed Lotte down. The two boys even managed to throw a brief glance into the mirror by the entrance, sorting their hair and smoothing their clothes out. To look decent, as the younger boy had put it. 

It had made Jens look at him with a confused expression, only to be met by a shaking head and a soft giggle.

Sometimes he didn’t understand his boyfriend. And he wasn’t sure, if he ever could. He hoped he would, though.

„Look, it’s all gone.“ Lotte cried in her despair, as she hold up the three sheets of paper, dripping in apple juice. Jens had to agree, that this didn’t looked too good for her, but his main concern laid with the glass on the floor.

So while he was busy to clean that mess to their feet, Lucas and Lotte put their attention towards the table and his sister’s scattered school supplies.

They had gotten it done just in time. Right before the doorbell rang. The mop was put back. The papers on the heater next to the sofa. To hopefully dry them, and leave at least the text readable enough to copy from later.

„Bonsoir!“ 

The cheery voice from Isa hit them, as soon as they had opened the door. Kes next to her shouldering two large bags, while he somehow still waved and said his own greetings with a breathless smile.

„You are here!“ Lucas declared just as excited, while ushered his two best friends in. Jens was glad he had agreed to have them all spend the weekend together. He adored to see his boyfriend this joyous. 

Jens was briefly enwrapped in a loving embrace by the girl, until Lotte shouted her name. And in an instant he had been forgotten.

„Aw there she is, my favourite eight-year-old.“ Isa proclaimed right next to him, before she scooped up Lotte into her arms. Both of them busy talking in rapid fire, about how much they had looked forwards to this. 

A hand on his shoulder that pulled him into another hug, ripped his eyes away from the two girls. Kes had apparently rid himself from the weight of the luggage to be finally able to arrive fully and greet Jens personally. It was a little more than that, though.

„You are lucky, that this stupid boy loves you so much. I was this close to come and beat you up last weekend.“ Kes said, while he only left the tiniest space between his thumb and index finger as he gestured to Jens just how narrow he had escaped his fate, his tone light and playful. Jens, however, felt rather assured that there wasn’t an ounce of a lie to be detected behind those words. 

He fortunately managed to smile through the realisation, vowing himself to better not fuck up ever again in the future.

„What, you love me? Cringe.“ Jens decided to joke instead, a cocky smirk stretched across his face. He turned his head towards Lucas, who immediately flipped him off without any hesitation.

„No. I don’t. Kes lied.“

„Shit, that hurts.“ Jens pouted in jest, his eyes blinking up at the grinning boy next to Isa.

„It should.“ 

That was all that Lucas had replied, before the five of them headed into the living room. All in order to give the newly arrived couple a quick tour of the house. Lotte darting right to the front to take on the role of the guide, eager to give too many details about everything that caught her eyes.

„I love you so much.“ Lucas had said a little later, when they followed the other three up the stairs, with a bit of distance between them. His fingers quick to grab Jens’s hand into his to squeeze them for emphasis. 

Jens stopped them halfway up, stealing a kiss and then also a second. 

One day he would feel like this, right here in this moment, at any given time. Be it when the sun was up and Lotte was ignoring him in her room, or when the night covered him in darkness and he would be missing their mom. One day he would be okay.

„I know,“ he whispered, „I love you, too.“

-End of Chapped And Faded (Jens’s Season)-

__ __ __ tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

last note:

I can’t believe that for thirteen full weeks I kept writing and uploading this story. I have always written and almost never had found the energy or determination to finish even one of my projects.

this wasn’t easy to do, but it was all worth it to force myself through some days of it.

I did this.

I hope you all don’t mind, if I just take this moment to be proud of myself.

And I hope the more that this end is satisfactory to you.

I love you all.

Thank you.

Oh and I may have a little bonus clip on sunday.

I need to revise it, but I definitely want to take a day off.

It’s gonna jump a bit forward, but it gives a little idea on where they are heading.

[paigenotblank]

CURVE BALL #3: EVE/VILLANELLE

This one was the easiest. (I’ll get to the others  you prompted tomorrow.)

who hogs the duvet  - We’ve seen how both ladies sleep in the show, so there is no doubt in my mind that it is Villanelle stealing any and all covers.

who texts/rings to check how their day is going - Again addressed in the show. Villanelle drops emoji texts to check on Eve/brighten her day and when Eve hasn’t heard from Villanelle in more than 30 minutes has no qualms about leaving 27 voicemails in 17 minutes.

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts - Sorry, Eve, it is Villanelle. She has an eye for beautiful things and likes to pamper her lady loves. Eve will however surprise Villanelle on occasion with all new windows after a break down.

who gets up first in the morning - Eve, she’s got a 9 to 5 and V can make her own hours. But Eve will start the coffee so it’s ready when V finally drags herself out of bed.

who suggests new things in bed - Villanelle is the more experienced lover when it come to women, so she will suggest things that she believes Eve will enjoy. When Eve finds her feet, she will add some play to the mix, which Villanelle is very very happy to indulge.

who cries at movies - Villanelle (but only in jest). Both ladies are stone cold sociopaths, and there is nary a tear amongst them.

who gives unprompted massages - Villanelle. She is by far the more tactile of the two and never misses an opportunity to be touching Eve.

who fusses over the other when they’re sick - Neither is good when the other is sick. V is more of a mother hen, plying Eve with liquids and making sure she has the right meds. And Eve worries when V is sick, but she forgets the chicken when making her chicken soup.

who gets jealous easiest - Both. V’s move with Niko was 100% jealousy, and we can’t forget Eve’s face when confronted by V’s threesome partners.

who has the most embarrassing taste in music - I would say Eve, we’ve heard her choice of music when she’s chopping vegetables, but V actually sat down and listened to a “mix tape” of national anthems.

who collects something unusual - Villanelle collects gorgeous clothing, so Eve loses by default, but I can also totally see Eve collecting like weird “knives used to murder people” or “poisons of the Victorian era” type shit.

who takes the longest to get ready - We all know how extra Villanelle is anytime she steps out the door, so…Villanelle. It takes time to look that amazing.

who is the most tidy and organised - Villanelle, it’s part of the job. Eve only looked put together because she had a house husband who took care of her.

who gets most excited about the holidays - Villanelle has an almost child-like energy at the holidays, especially their first as she never had anyone to share it with before.

who is the big spoon/little spoon - Eve is the little spoon most of the time, but when V has had a very bad day, she happily becomes the big spoon.

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports - have you met Eve “I am going to prove it was a woman no matter how many laws I break” Polastri?

who starts the most arguments - Eve: unintentionally. V: intentionally

who suggests that they buy a pet - Villanelle. She wasn’t allowed to have one as a kid and with all the traveling it wasn’t possible, but now that she has Eve waiting for her at home, she wants that experience.

what couple traditions they have - they always go to Paris and then Rome on their anniversary.

what tv shows they watch together - Project Runway and anything on IDNetwork.

what other couple they hang out with - Kenny & Elena and the nice other lesbian couple that lives in their small Alaskan town.

how they spend time together as a couple - murder investigating (keeping track of the competition), murder plotting (keep V as safe as possible while on the job), V paints and Eve gardens

who made the first move - Eve, nothing like stabbing a girl to show your hand.

who brings flowers home - Villanelle. Not only is she the pamperer, but she likes looking at pretty things.

who is the best cook - Eve forgot the chicken when she was making chicken!!!!

Send me a ship and I’ll tell you who…

[amberfyresdreamscapes]

concealed longings

written for recruitedbyhydra background fic

“Sugar, you look terrified.”

There was a Southern drawl to the brunette’s voice that brought up memories of being an orphaned mutant caught in the Bible Belt. Growing up in Oklahoma was an odd mix of Southern and Southwest but enough people had a drawl it could still prick at Sam’s past. It didn’t make this situation any easier for him. In fact, he’d argue it made it much worse.

But he didn’t have any more choice in this than the girls who’d been hired by his guardian. That had been made imminently clear to him. It’s not even that Sam didn’t know it was part of what Jeremiah wanted him for. The man had enough of a fortune to rival Stark and more connections than Sam could even begin to untangle. Besides all the HYDRA training, Sam had learned Jeremiah expected him to help in his various corporate espionage schemes. Which often meant observing competitors at parties and various functions as well as using his dimples to charm. He hadn’t expected seduction to be part of the game though and Jeremiah had been extremely displeased to learn of Sam’s significant deficiencies in the area. Sam was informed it was unacceptable, which was what had brought them here.

He hadn’t expected to spend his summer break during his sophomore year at MIT being taught by professionals how to have sex adequately. Jeremiah expected this of him and the threats of losing everything he had fought to gain over the last four years wasn’t even thinly veiled this time. Which did nothing to help Sam’s more than simple anxiety about the whole thing.

Cady was the third girl in as many weeks. Sam and the first had not only not gotten on well, she had been less than impressed with Sam’s very physical and altogether unflattering response when all was said and done. Which could possibly have had more to do with him not making it out of the room before he threw up violently and her clothes being part of the unfortunate real estate so decorated.

Shana and Tess, the first two, had both been in their early 30s, professional down to the last inch. They’d both intimidated the hell out of Sam. Not just by virtue of knowing what would happen if he failed, but because it drove home just how little control he had over his life.

Cady was 23, closer to his own age, and while she was professional there wasn’t the same feel about her. The other two women had been all business, almost clinical in their approach. Cady had an entirely different look and feel, as evidenced by the actual concern lighting her grey eyes. She didn’t look anything like what Sam would have assumed a ‘working girl’ would look like. She was dressed casually, her brunette hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders and looked more like a cheerleader.

She hadn’t moved to get right to things so they were both still fully clothed and sitting on the foot of Sam’s bed while he tried to hide the way his hands shook. He felt like an idiot. He wasn’t even a virgin. Technically. But sex…

Cady touched his shoulder lightly, her grey eyes studying the way Sam tensed up, averted his face and shoved his hands between his knees. While she’d had those clients who were shy for whatever reason, Sam seemed terrified and it seemed to go deeper than the situation.

“Sweetheart, how ‘bout if we just talk a bit?” She kept her voice soothing and not at all sultry, nothing implying sex at all. Her time had been paid for the week but she couldn’t do her job with this gangling teen who was more than just awkwardly shy at doing something new.

She also felt sorry for him. She got the distinct feeling this hadn’t been his idea at all and it went against her nature to force him to do anything. She’d been hired to teach him about sex, not force him.

Sam lifted his head enough to give her an uncertain look, confused terror lurking in the backs of them like shadows threatening to swallow him whole. “Talk?” Talking seemed like a much safer subject but not one that was any easier. When he knew the rules of the game he was good at charming, saying just the right thing. But this…

Cady gave him a small smile even as her heart hurt a little at the shadows in his eyes. “We ain’t gotta do nothin’ you don’t feel like doing right now. So… we talk. Don’t have to tell me nothin’ ‘bout you if you don’t wanna. Could ask me questions if you like.” Anything that might put him at ease.

She didn’t expect the sudden flare of suspicion in those hazel-green eyes or the way his look suddenly turned penetrating.

Sam studied her intently for a moment before brushing lightly over her thoughts. The suspicion in his eyes melted back into confusion as he realized she was being honest. It wasn’t a trick. She meant what she said. Which was a rare thing for him. She also wasn’t asking him questions about himself, which everyone always seemed to want to do.

Unfortunately, he was also aware of the price of failure and butterflies fluttered briefly in his stomach.

“How’d you end up in this line of work?”

The question was hesitantly asked, a flicker of curiosity highlighting the confusion and Cady gave him a wry smile. “I expect you know how expensive college is? Sometimes you start doing something with one idea in mind and end up doing something completely different along the way. Strippin’ paid more than waitin’ tables, sugar. The rest jus’ grew from there.”

Sam nodded warily and looked back down. He couldn’t think of anything else in the moment to ask her, his brain running through all the various ways he would suffer if he didn’t end up performing to Jeremiah’s exacting standards.

Cady, feeling the tension ramp up in him again pulled her hand away and continued to study him thoughtfully. “You do like girls, yes?”

Sam’s eyes flew to her face but instead of fear all she saw was confusion. Like he wasn’t sure how to answer the question.

“I mean… do you wanna have sex with girls or do you prefer to think ‘bout havin’ sex with boys,?” The question was asked gently. She’d heard that there were some parents who would try to straighten out and ‘fix’ their gay sons by forcing them to have sex with prostitutes and the man who’d engaged her services seemed controlling enough to fit the bill. But it wasn’t a practice she subscribed to or believed in and if that was the case here she wanted to know. She’d give the man his money back. He was paying her well but not anywhere close enough for her to compromise the few principles she still had and possibly contribute to traumatizing someone else.

Sam continued to blink at her in confusion, seeming to think the question over. It was honestly the first time anyone had ever asked him and for a moment a slew of memories from his two years in the Boys’ Home flickered through his mind. He looked away from her inquisitive grey eyes and swallowed hard. “I… don’t really think about having sex at all.”

The way he said the words made Cady wonder what had happened to him. She didn’t ask, it wasn’t her business. But she could tell whatever it was made Sam think something was wrong with him.

“Some people don’t, you know?” She said it lightly, no judgment. “There are some people who never want to have sex ever. An’ some people that it’s somethin’ they can take or leave. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Sam’s shoulders curled. He could hardly explain to her he didn’t have that option. It didn’t matter what he wanted.

Cady wanted to pat his shoulder but she’d noted how he’d tensed when she’d touched him before so she didn’t. Instead she studied him and tried to figure out what to do. She wouldn’t force him. But she had a good idea if she did decide to not keep her contract for the week he’d only be shoved at someone else. And she got the distinct feeling Sam was rarely given a choice in things.

“Could do somethin’ else instead. I could… show how we girls give each other makeovers.”

The comment was said in jest, trying to provoke a reaction other than terror. The way Sam looked at her, eyes slowly studying her face, made her suddenly wonder how much of himself Sam hid on a daily basis. He took her in silently, her hair, her face, her clothes before meeting her eyes, head tilted to the side and his eyes hesitant.

“Is it hard?”

Cady blinked and tried to stifle a soft laugh. “Well, sugar it entirely depends on your definition of makeover. I tend to stick to makeup and maybe a nice outfit an’ my hair. My roommate though… he thinks it means facials and full mani-pedis, whole brand new ensemble from jewelry to shoes an’ likely a whole new color for his hair.”

Sam’s eyes widened slowly and she could see him seriously trying to make that fit into what he seemed to know of the world.

“He’s also a clothes horse, a bit of a diva an’ the reason we’re often broke. He’s also my best friend.” She did grin at that, imagining Sebastian’s reaction to being called a diva.

Sam’s eyes flicked to study her face again and she could swear she saw something almost like hopeful curiosity flicker through his hazel green eyes for a moment.

“Can we do that?”

It was the hesitance in the question that got to Cady. The feeling that he expected to be turned down. Did he ever ask for anything he wanted, this one?

She studied him in turn, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I didn’ bring a lot with me since I was thinkin’ we’d be doin’ somethin’ different. But your colorin’s not too far from my own. I could show you some basics if you like?”

Cady wasn’t expecting the sudden shy smile and the dimples that sprang up in response. When he wasn’t terrified, Sam was absolutely beautiful. Without the defensiveness that she suspected he always had up, he seemed like a younger boy. He’d assured her he was 18 but at the moment he seemed closer to 16. Oddly Cady didn’t think he’d lied about his age but she got the distinct impression Sam didn’t socialize willingly often.

It was the shy dimpled smile that made her decide to keep the week’s contract she was hired for. The man had paid her to teach Sam about sex. The implication was by practical application. But there were other ways she could still fulfill the letter of her contract without compromising herself or putting Sam through more than he could handle. And she rather thought he desperately needed someone, even if only for a week, who didn’t actually want something from him.

Sam watched her retrieve her bag, scared at this fragile feeling. He rarely socialized with people on his own terms. He went where Jeremiah told him to when he was told to. Even at school Sam spent far more time buried in his studies and pushing, always pushing himself. He didn’t talk to people in his classes, avoided people in his dorms. Even the casual rivalry he had going with another of the top computer science students wasn’t a social thing.

He’s not even sure why he went with her suggestion. It had the feel of something she hadn’t really meant, something to be a joke or innocuous comment. But he’d had such a strong, visceral want flare in him at the thought. Sam hadn’t really given much thought to it, was pretty sure it had never occurred to him before tonight, to wear makeup. But then, there were a great many things he’d learned to not even let surface in his head.

He knew what he was. He knew why he was here under Jeremiah’s care. Personal wants and desires meant nothing at all to a weapon, a tool. Not if he wanted to keep what he’d fought so hard to get. Sam had just started feeling like he wasn’t that same boy he had been four years ago, had started feeling like maybe he had left him behind. He had accepted and adjusted to what was wanted from him. Until the last few weeks.

Cady didn’t make him feel that way. She wasn’t pushing him, forcing him. She didn’t expect anything from him, want anything from him. Sam was well aware he’d likely never see her again after the week and fear still fluttered in his gut at failing in Jeremiah’s expectations.

But he’d rarely wanted something like this before. Like his music, it was like something in him fighting not to suffocate under the weight of who he was expected to be and had been dying bit by bit. He didn’t know what it was and he’d long since learned hope was a dangerous thing to have. But for this moment, just this moment, he wanted to see if he could figure out what it was and why it felt so fierce.

So he sat, following Cady’s bewildering instructions and listened to her soft explanations interspersed with conversation about her roommate Sebastian and a few other friends she had loosely tied to what her steady hand were doing. He could follow directions easily enough, and he soaked up more than he thought he did listening to her. And once she was done and sat back on her heels to study him, Sam saw something honestly appreciative and delightedly surprised in her eyes.

“You should look at yourself, sugar.” His hand trembled as she offered the compact to him, flipped open to show the mirror.

Cady really thought a full mirror would be better but he seemed so shy and uncertain she thought maybe starting with just the compact mirror would be good. She watched him take it with a hand that shook, watched his own eyes widen in surprise when he caught sight of himself, surprise and awed wonder.

She hadn’t expected how much just a little makeup would change his face, his look. He wasn’t delicately boned and his jaw was strong and square, but good God with the right tools Sam would be devastatingly gorgeous as a girl or guy. And while she was certain he was used to comments about his looks by now, watching the way his eyes just stared at his reflection as though he’d never seen himself before she rather thought he didn’t tend to put much stock in people’s opinions of his looks.

“I’ll make you a deal, sugar,” Cady said softly. “I was paid to teach you about sex, but it doesn’t take a genius to know it’s the last thing you wanna do.” She watched those hazel eyes shift from the mirror to her face, could almost see the color drain from his face.

“But teachin’ don’t always mean doin’, sugar. And you seem to be far more interested in learnin’ other things. So, this is my deal. So I can say I did my part honestly, I’ll be teachin’ you abou’ sex. But I swear on my life I will not touch you sexually unless you decide it’s what you want. While I do that, I’ll teach you about makeup an’ clothes an’ whatever else you might wanna know or have questions about. I’ll bring my full makeup kit with me every night an’ I will teach you how to do that on your own. Would you like that?”

Sam stared at her, trying to keep his breathing even. He’d forgotten, in the wonder of seeing his face once she was done, that she had been hired by Jeremiah. Glancing back to his reflection in the mirror, the way she had expertly done things to his eyes to make them seem bigger, the color seem brighter, emphasized his cheekbones and toned down the square of his jaw while softening the whole look of his face, he knew he wanted this. Wanted to learn how to do this himself. He didn’t know why but that part of him that had felt like it was slowly dying was lit up, lifting like a flower to the sun after a storm had passed. He didn’t want to give that up, wanted to keep that little piece, something that was him and not anyone else’s to hold on to under the weight of who he was being told he was.

He looked back up into Cady’s grey eyes to find her gazing solemnly back at him. She meant what she said. Even without dipping into her mind he could feel the truth of it. It was a rare enough moment for him that being given the chance even at a choice of any kind was overwhelming and he looked down, blinking rapidly as he tried to keep the tears in. He was horrified at showing such a weakness to a stranger and he shoved at the emotions until they were more manageable. When Sam looked back up his eyes were bright but no other sign of tears could be seen.

The simple act of Sam pulling his tears in so quickly told Cady almost as much about what he’d been through as every other thing he hadn’t said through the night and she became determined to give him this week. So when he suddenly gave her a small shy smile and nodded agreement she smiled back widely.

Cady would never know, over the course of their acquaintance, which ended up spanning much more than a week, that she was a large part of why Sam didn’t break that summer. That she gave him the strength to find a way to do what Jeremiah wanted of him, and do it damn well, without losing the last parts of himself to what was being demanded of him.

She would never know that she and Sebastian were the first two people in Sam’s memory who had never put expectations on him or how much it truly meant to him over the next few years that they were willing to teach him anything he asked without judgment, without censure. That they accepted him as is and never asked for anything more than he was willing to give or show.

But Sam knew. He never let himself think of them as friends. Never let the word slip his lips or surface in his brain. Jeremiah had killed a puppy he’d dared to bring home once. Sam had no doubts Jeremiah would feel anything about ordering two people who meant nothing to him in the grand scheme of things to be ‘taken care of’. Especially if he knew Cady and Sebastian helped to keep some small part of Sam alive under the weight of his being shoved into HYDRA’s mold.

He treasured every moment, learned to laugh without restraint. He stored every memory because he knew the day would come when he’d have to walk away. He’d have to leave without looking back to keep Cady and Sebastian safe. But for the moment, he reveled in the moments he had with them, in what he learned. Most of all, he learned it was possible that under all of the masks he wore on a daily basis he could still keep a part of him for him that no one could touch.

It wasn’t the first secret he hoarded, but it was the most intensely personal one.

[elizatellsthestory]

30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 16

Prompt: Small Things

It was the small things that attracted her to him in the dim lighting of the New York club. She had finished her undergraduate degree a year ago and had moved back home to pursue her doctorate, so it was rare that she was back in the city she’d originally studied in, and even rarer that she went this wild anymore. Being that it was one of her old schoolmate’s graduation celebration, she’d made an exception. She was back to party with her friends after all.

They’d started with bar hopping earlier in the night before finally finding themselves in a club. They’d been dancing together to the beat, but as the night wore on, their large group began to disperse either to dance with an attractive stranger or turn in for the night. She hadn’t planned on abandoning her friend, but when her eyes caught his, she felt a magnetic pull towards the stranger.

The first time, she’d ignored it and continued dancing with her friends.

The second time their eyes locked, her friends noticed and encouraged her to go introduce herself. She declined.

The third time though, she had to admit to herself that maybe she was looking for him in the crowd. Maybe he was looking for her. It was something in the tilt of his lips. The crooked grin exuded an attractive confidence that gripped her. The crease in the corner of his eyes when he shot her the smirk beckoned her with a sense of amusement. His endlessly dark eyes fixed her in her spot as the colorful lights reflected off of them. She wasn’t the kind of person to believe in ‘leagues’ when it came to interaction between men and women, but if she had, she would have believed he was way out of hers.

“Go say hi,” her friend Zuri whispered in her ear as the two girls danced together.

“No! It’s your night. I’m in New York to spend time with you,” Max hissed back and turned her back on the man to give her full attention to her friend, hoping that would put an end to the discussion.

It didn’t.

“It’s my night, and you have to do what I say.” Zuri spun Max back around to the beat of the music until she was facing the direction of the man she’d been making eyes at for the past thirty minutes. “And I say, go get yourself some dick!”

“Zuri!”

“You can thank me later,” her friend laughed with a wave and disappeared into the crowd of dancers before Max could try to get out of it. Max sighed and shook her head with a smile. If Zuri didn’t want to be found in there, there was absolutely no way she’d find her friend. With nothing else to do and nothing to lose, she made her way over to the man at the edge of the room with the beautiful smile.

“Your friend abandon you?” His deep voice reached out for her before she’d even made it to him completely.

“Yeah, she left me to the wolves,” Max came to a stop in front of him. They stood nearly chest to chest so they could hear each other over the loud music, and if they leaned a little closer than necessary to talk, neither said anything about it.

“Next time you see her, you should tell her the wolves say thank you.” He shot her that grin, teeth bared in jest.

“Dance?” She quirked a brow at him and offered her hand, not expecting him to say no. The second his hand was in hers, she turned and led him back to the dance floor, her hips already beginning to sway to the beat. His eyes traced her body as he eagerly followed her onto the dance floor. Deciding they’d moved far enough, he twirled her until they were face to face, close enough to feel each other’s warm breath on their skin. His hold on her had made it’s way from her hand to lightly grip her around her waist.

“Oscar.” Max’s couldn’t avoid letting her eyes slide to his lips as he spoke his name. It was hard not to fixate on them when they were nearly eye level to her.

“Max.” Her eyes flicked back up to meet his intense gaze.

“Nice to meet you, Max,” the words flowed off his tongue in a rich chuckle. They both began to move their bodies to the low bass of the music. She was sure that if they had been any closer, she would have felt his chuckle vibrate in his chest. As it was, there was barely any space between them. She could feel the heat of his body radiating into hers. His free hand fell to her hip, the pressure of his touch increasing slightly every time she let her body bridge that small gap between them and graze against his.

It had been a long time since she’d let herself be this free and uncaring. It felt good to not need to think and just let her body and her wants take over. Her eyes fluttered closed. Her body succumbed to the beat of the music. Oscar’s eyes darkened as he watched her move in his hold. Max’s eyes cracked open, and she bit back a pleased grin upon seeing the expression on his face. Holding his gaze, she pressed away from him, dancing just out of his reach. A smirk pulled at her lips, daring him to come closer.

Just as he reached out, his hands searching for their home on her hips, she turned her back to him and pressed against his warmth. Without any more guidance needed, his hands began to wander along her body while they quickly found the rhythm. Max could have sworn she heard a muffled groan in response to the friction between their bodies. She could feel his every breath through her back. Every time it quickened or held in anticipation.

His fingers slipped under her shirt, brushing the soft skin, and raising goosebumps along it. Her fingers slid behind her and along the side of his neck until they buried themselves in the coarse tousled hair that had first caught her eye. Her hips pressed into his more urgently as his head bent forwards. Her eyes fluttered shut once more at the feeling of his lips and the coarse touch of his stubble traveling along the expanse of her neck.

“Wanna get out of here?”

…

When Max awoke, it was to sunlight streaming through the window. She groaned and rolled over to block out the sun. Though she was in a strange bed in an apartment she’d never been in before, she didn’t panic. She remembered everything perfectly, and berated herself for not going home last night. With a sigh, she looked at her bed partner who was still fast asleep. It was odd how things looked differently in the light.

His hair was as dark as she’d perceived it to be, but it had more of a curl than a tousled wave and was longer than she’d believed it to be. His stubble looked fuller than it had felt last night, but it was no matter. It didn’t matter really. He was still attractive, and it wasn’t like she’d be likely to see him again. She was leaving the city in two days.

She rose and began to dress. She needed to catch up with Zuri. She felt like she owed her friend brunch at the very least for letting her ditch last night, as worth it as it had been. Once clothed, she bent down to pick up her shoes and tiptoed towards the door when a voice stopped her.

“Leaving so soon?” She turned to find Oscar gazing at her tiredly from where he lay on the bed. “That would be a shame.” The lazy, crooked smile adorned his features and for a brief moment, she considered staying a little longer.

She shook her head and shot him an apologetic smile. “I was supposed to be celebrating my friend’s big night last night. I’d feel bad to skip more of the festivities.”

She could see disappointment in his dark eyes, darker even  than she’d remembered them being last night. “I understand,” he allowed with a shrug. “Maybe I’ll catch you around?”

“Maybe,” she lied. It was easier than to flat out tell him no and risk exchanging information when she had no interest to. With that, she slipped out the bedroom door, and out of the stranger’s life.

[rebeccahpedersen]

The Friday Rant: I’m Sorry That You’re Offended

TorontoRealtyBlog

“I’m sorry” might have been the most common phrase uttered in Canada in 2016, and it’s not because we’re hokey, simple, Canadians who say “aboot” instead of “about.”

“I’m offended” might have been the second-most common phrase last year, but in 2017, It might give “I’m sorry” a run for its money.

The whole city is talking about “the video,” as it’s being known now, with no explanation necessary, that a Toronto Realtor released this week for her new east-end Penthouse listing.

I want to hear from you folks today: are you offended by this?  And if so, why?

Wait…..that’s not my listing!

What gives?

Why am I giving a “competitor” free advertising on my website?

Why am I about to toot the horn of somebody who could beat me for business?

Well, because I think her video is sensational.

And because I love this condo, as most of you would as well.

In case you’re new to this story, let me start from the beginning.

A listing came out this week at 318 King Street East, aka “The King East,” for a gorgeous penthouse unit, with a wrap-around terrace, that is quite possibly, one of the nicest condos I’ve ever seen in the downtown core.

I had the pleasure of seeing this unit a couple of weeks before it came onto the market, and it was breathtaking.

I figured the target buyer would be a young, single banker – likely male.  Or, perhaps a couple looking to downsize from their $5,000,000 Forest Hill home.

The listing hit the market this week, and with it came a “lifestyle video” from the real estate agent, that has now, after some 48 hours, caused upheaval in our fair city.

If you didn’t watch the video above, and skipped down to the blog – go back and watch it.

The video depicts three men in their late-30’s or early 40-‘s, who come home, and are waited on, hand-and-foot, by the owner’s wife, who happens to be the clumsiest woman on the planet, and continuously spills things on herself and has to keep changing clothes.

The video, as it would seem, has ruffled a lot of feathers among the general public.

The “peanut gallery” does not like the video, or at least those who don’t like it, are speaking the loudest.

BlogTo was the first to pick this up.

Then Toronto Life.

And by Friday when you read this, it will have been on CBC The National, CBC Radio, and a host of other media outlets.

So what do you think?

And be honest, because you’re not hurting my feelings.

The comments on the BlogTO website, and on Toronto Life, are just eviscerating the real estate agent, personally and professionally.

And at the risk of throwing myself onto the fire along with her, dare I say, that I believe this is much ado about nothing.

I had five blog readers email me on Wednesday to ask what I thought of the video, and three of them really didn’t like it.

But I sat with my own mother on Thursday afternoon, and watched the video, and she said it was “cute.”

So who is right, and who is wrong here?

I think that people have every right to like this video, or not.  Just as with any movie you go see – you can say “It was great,” or “I didn’t like it.”

But the reaction to this video, in my opinion, is a bit much.

The fact that the video was released on “International Women’s Day” was nothing short of ironic, and just absolutely, awful timing.  But it wasn’t done on purpose, and anybody that suggests as much is simply looking to to further their own outrage.

But who is the agent that produced this awful video that apparently “sets women’s rights back a hundred years?”

Karyn Filiatrault is a Toronto real estate agent who, in my opinion, represents one of “the good guys” in a sea of mediocrity that exists among the 47,000+ licensed agents, not to mention the bottom-dwellers, corner-cutters; the lazy, and the unqualified.

Karyn is as hard-working as any agent.

She’s innovative, creative, and forward-thinking.

She’s a great negotiator, and I’ve lost to her not once, but twice this year in multiple offers.

And above all, she’s different in her approach to real estate.

I can relate to this.

I’ve been writing blogs on Toronto real estate since before people knew what a “blog” was.

I’m no stranger to controversy, even though I think “controversy” is subjective, and in real estate, for the longest time, anything other than positivity was controversial.

So when Karyn came along, from a background in film and television, and started doing “lifestyle videos” to accompany her real estate listings, people took notice.

This video is an innovative as any I have ever seen.

And it’s perfectly aimed at the target demographic: jerks.

Right?

That’s who those three guys in the video are, and we can all picture them hanging out at Earl’s, harassing the waitresses, getting in their phallic-shaped sports-cars, and speeding off to buy pocket squares.

But if that’s who is going to buy this condo, and if that’s who the target market is, then please, ladies and gentlemen, what’s wrong with marketing to them?

I think Karyn did a fantastic job with this listing, and went to lengths that 99.9% of agents in this city wouldn’t go to.  How many agents have spent $10,000 on a promotional video?  I’ve certainly never flown a drone over a patio for marketing purposes!

So what do people out there want?

Do they want to hire a mediocre agent?

Do they want average service?

Or do they want somebody who is willing to stick her neck out, and appeal to the target buyer, to get the property sold for the most money?

I know many of you are sick of hearing about our “overly-political-correct” society, so I won’t go on that rant…..yet.

But you have to admit, that for people to be in an “uproar” about a tongue-and-cheek real estate video, is just such a waste of time.

So many people out there in society today, spend so much time commenting, complaining, judging, and critiquing what other people are doing, and much of the time, it’s so utterly unimportant.

And this is what I find so fascinating about society today.

Consider the ramifications of the following combination:

a) being overly-politically correct b) having a mass forum to communicate c) anonymity d) nothing better to do

The result is a generation of people who find fault with everything, and absolutely must share it with the world, when once upon a time, they would just go on with the rest of their day.

I often think that Facebook may be the worst thing that ever happened to mankind.

Had a bad day?

Go home and ambiguously type “I’m so upset, I could just crawl up into a ball and cry…” into your status.

See what kind of reaction you get.

Aunt Jane said, “What’s wrong, Sweetie?”

Co-worker Ed replied, “Things will get better!”

A friend you haven’t spoken to in ten years, but added to Facebook will write, “Hey, we all have bad days!”

This is the world we live in today, in 2017.

And I just don’t know if we’re better or worse off.

Have we ever been softer as a species?

And at the same time, have people ever been more cruel and judgmental?

Bill Maher did a feature a couple of months ago called, “New Rule: Stop Apologizing.”

Have a look, although this the very definition of “NSFW” so please don’t say I didn’t warn you, and certainly don’t watch this in your cubicle at work with your speakers turned up, or I guarantee, somebody will claim they were offended:

This is a rant about people who are always apologizing for everything, and how society gets offended by anything and everything.

And he sums it up with the best line:

“When you self-involved fools were policing the language at the Kids’ Choice Awards, a mad-man talked his way into the White House.”

Again, this is rude and curse for effect.

Without Bill Maher’s swear-words, and over-the-top antics, the point might be lost.

But isn’t that how many points get across?

With so many voices, so many mediums, and so many topics of discussion, sometimes an exaggeration, hyperbole, or emphasis for the sake of emphasis is necessary.

Karyn Filiatraut’s video may have cast women, or a woman, in a negative light, for comedic purposes, to attract a particular buyer.

But my God, is this really worth the uproar?

Or is it just a video, made in jest, directed at a her target demographic?

And what do you think about this video:

http://ift.tt/2msR34E

This is the exact opposite of Karyn’s video.

This shows four women enjoying the lavish life, whereas Karyn’s video showed three men doing the same thing.

Does this empower women?

Or does it belittle them?

Because personally, I think this video is worse.

When I see this, I think it assumes that women sit at home all day and do nothing but play dress-up, take selfies, have pillow-fights, and conveniently fall asleep in bed together, while “the man” is out working to pay for it all.

So isn’t it all just a matter of perspective?

And if so, then is it really worth being upset over?

As an aside, would you really prefer to hire this person to represent you in the real estate market?

If you were looking to sell your downtown condo today, there are a lot of routes you could take.

You could hire Comfree or some crappy discount firm, and suffer your fate.

You could hire a “name” agent that advertises he or she was the #3 agent in the firm in 2005.

You could hire any number of qualified individuals who are cut from the same cloth, provide the same service, and would achieve the same result.

Or, you could hire somebody who is brilliant, ahead of the curve, innovative, creative, and will go the extra mile (and spend the extra money!) to get the job done.

If I were a prospective seller in the downtown core, I’d be more likely to call Karyn after seeing the 318 King Street lifestyle video than I would be to anonymously attack her on Internet message boards.

So tell me what you think, folks.

And if I’m wrong, if I’m missing the point, or if you just don’t like my big, fat, stupid, ugly, dumb-dumb face, then feel free to tell me.

On a completely unrelated topic: have a great weekend, everybody!

The post The Friday Rant: I’m Sorry That You’re Offended appeared first on Toronto Real Estate Property Sales & Investments | Toronto Realty Blog by David Fleming.

Originated from http://ift.tt/2mqBFEk

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The Friday Rant: I’m Sorry That You’re Offended

TorontoRealtyBlog

“I’m sorry” might have been the most common phrase uttered in Canada in 2016, and it’s not because we’re hokey, simple, Canadians who say “aboot” instead of “about.”

“I’m offended” might have been the second-most common phrase last year, but in 2017, It might give “I’m sorry” a run for its money.

The whole city is talking about “the video,” as it’s being known now, with no explanation necessary, that a Toronto Realtor released this week for her new east-end Penthouse listing.

I want to hear from you folks today: are you offended by this?  And if so, why?

Wait…..that’s not my listing!

What gives?

Why am I giving a “competitor” free advertising on my website?

Why am I about to toot the horn of somebody who could beat me for business?

Well, because I think her video is sensational.

And because I love this condo, as most of you would as well.

In case you’re new to this story, let me start from the beginning.

A listing came out this week at 318 King Street East, aka “The King East,” for a gorgeous penthouse unit, with a wrap-around terrace, that is quite possibly, one of the nicest condos I’ve ever seen in the downtown core.

I had the pleasure of seeing this unit a couple of weeks before it came onto the market, and it was breathtaking.

I figured the target buyer would be a young, single banker – likely male.  Or, perhaps a couple looking to downsize from their $5,000,000 Forest Hill home.

The listing hit the market this week, and with it came a “lifestyle video” from the real estate agent, that has now, after some 48 hours, caused upheaval in our fair city.

If you didn’t watch the video above, and skipped down to the blog – go back and watch it.

The video depicts three men in their late-30’s or early 40-‘s, who come home, and are waited on, hand-and-foot, by the owner’s wife, who happens to be the clumsiest woman on the planet, and continuously spills things on herself and has to keep changing clothes.

The video, as it would seem, has ruffled a lot of feathers among the general public.

The “peanut gallery” does not like the video, or at least those who don’t like it, are speaking the loudest.

BlogTo was the first to pick this up.

Then Toronto Life.

And by Friday when you read this, it will have been on CBC The National, CBC Radio, and a host of other media outlets.

So what do you think?

And be honest, because you’re not hurting my feelings.

The comments on the BlogTO website, and on Toronto Life, are just eviscerating the real estate agent, personally and professionally.

And at the risk of throwing myself onto the fire along with her, dare I say, that I believe this is much ado about nothing.

I had five blog readers email me on Wednesday to ask what I thought of the video, and three of them really didn’t like it.

But I sat with my own mother on Thursday afternoon, and watched the video, and she said it was “cute.”

So who is right, and who is wrong here?

I think that people have every right to like this video, or not.  Just as with any movie you go see – you can say “It was great,” or “I didn’t like it.”

But the reaction to this video, in my opinion, is a bit much.

The fact that the video was released on “International Women’s Day” was nothing short of ironic, and just absolutely, awful timing.  But it wasn’t done on purpose, and anybody that suggests as much is simply looking to to further their own outrage.

But who is the agent that produced this awful video that apparently “sets women’s rights back a hundred years?”

Karyn Filiatrault is a Toronto real estate agent who, in my opinion, represents one of “the good guys” in a sea of mediocrity that exists among the 47,000+ licensed agents, not to mention the bottom-dwellers, corner-cutters; the lazy, and the unqualified.

Karyn is as hard-working as any agent.

She’s innovative, creative, and forward-thinking.

She’s a great negotiator, and I’ve lost to her not once, but twice this year in multiple offers.

And above all, she’s different in her approach to real estate.

I can relate to this.

I’ve been writing blogs on Toronto real estate since before people knew what a “blog” was.

I’m no stranger to controversy, even though I think “controversy” is subjective, and in real estate, for the longest time, anything other than positivity was controversial.

So when Karyn came along, from a background in film and television, and started doing “lifestyle videos” to accompany her real estate listings, people took notice.

This video is an innovative as any I have ever seen.

And it’s perfectly aimed at the target demographic: jerks.

Right?

That’s who those three guys in the video are, and we can all picture them hanging out at Earl’s, harassing the waitresses, getting in their phallic-shaped sports-cars, and speeding off to buy pocket squares.

But if that’s who is going to buy this condo, and if that’s who the target market is, then please, ladies and gentlemen, what’s wrong with marketing to them?

I think Karyn did a fantastic job with this listing, and went to lengths that 99.9% of agents in this city wouldn’t go to.  How many agents have spent $10,000 on a promotional video?  I’ve certainly never flown a drone over a patio for marketing purposes!

So what do people out there want?

Do they want to hire a mediocre agent?

Do they want average service?

Or do they want somebody who is willing to stick her neck out, and appeal to the target buyer, to get the property sold for the most money?

I know many of you are sick of hearing about our “overly-political-correct” society, so I won’t go on that rant…..yet.

But you have to admit, that for people to be in an “uproar” about a tongue-and-cheek real estate video, is just such a waste of time.

So many people out there in society today, spend so much time commenting, complaining, judging, and critiquing what other people are doing, and much of the time, it’s so utterly unimportant.

And this is what I find so fascinating about society today.

Consider the ramifications of the following combination:

a) being overly-politically correct b) having a mass forum to communicate c) anonymity d) nothing better to do

The result is a generation of people who find fault with everything, and absolutely must share it with the world, when once upon a time, they would just go on with the rest of their day.

I often think that Facebook may be the worst thing that ever happened to mankind.

Had a bad day?

Go home and ambiguously type “I’m so upset, I could just crawl up into a ball and cry…” into your status.

See what kind of reaction you get.

Aunt Jane said, “What’s wrong, Sweetie?”

Co-worker Ed replied, “Things will get better!”

A friend you haven’t spoken to in ten years, but added to Facebook will write, “Hey, we all have bad days!”

This is the world we live in today, in 2017.

And I just don’t know if we’re better or worse off.

Have we ever been softer as a species?

And at the same time, have people ever been more cruel and judgmental?

Bill Maher did a feature a couple of months ago called, “New Rule: Stop Apologizing.”

Have a look, although this the very definition of “NSFW” so please don’t say I didn’t warn you, and certainly don’t watch this in your cubicle at work with your speakers turned up, or I guarantee, somebody will claim they were offended:

This is a rant about people who are always apologizing for everything, and how society gets offended by anything and everything.

And he sums it up with the best line:

“When you self-involved fools were policing the language at the Kids’ Choice Awards, a mad-man talked his way into the White House.”

Again, this is rude and curse for effect.

Without Bill Maher’s swear-words, and over-the-top antics, the point might be lost.

But isn’t that how many points get across?

With so many voices, so many mediums, and so many topics of discussion, sometimes an exaggeration, hyperbole, or emphasis for the sake of emphasis is necessary.

Karyn Filiatraut’s video may have cast women, or a woman, in a negative light, for comedic purposes, to attract a particular buyer.

But my God, is this really worth the uproar?

Or is it just a video, made in jest, directed at a her target demographic?

And what do you think about this video:

http://ift.tt/2msR34E

This is the exact opposite of Karyn’s video.

This shows four women enjoying the lavish life, whereas Karyn’s video showed three men doing the same thing.

Does this empower women?

Or does it belittle them?

Because personally, I think this video is worse.

When I see this, I think it assumes that women sit at home all day and do nothing but play dress-up, take selfies, have pillow-fights, and conveniently fall asleep in bed together, while “the man” is out working to pay for it all.

So isn’t it all just a matter of perspective?

And if so, then is it really worth being upset over?

As an aside, would you really prefer to hire this person to represent you in the real estate market?

If you were looking to sell your downtown condo today, there are a lot of routes you could take.

You could hire Comfree or some crappy discount firm, and suffer your fate.

You could hire a “name” agent that advertises he or she was the #3 agent in the firm in 2005.

You could hire any number of qualified individuals who are cut from the same cloth, provide the same service, and would achieve the same result.

Or, you could hire somebody who is brilliant, ahead of the curve, innovative, creative, and will go the extra mile (and spend the extra money!) to get the job done.

If I were a prospective seller in the downtown core, I’d be more likely to call Karyn after seeing the 318 King Street lifestyle video than I would be to anonymously attack her on Internet message boards.

So tell me what you think, folks.

And if I’m wrong, if I’m missing the point, or if you just don’t like my big, fat, stupid, ugly, dumb-dumb face, then feel free to tell me.

On a completely unrelated topic: have a great weekend, everybody!

The post The Friday Rant: I’m Sorry That You’re Offended appeared first on Toronto Real Estate Property Sales & Investments | Toronto Realty Blog by David Fleming.

Originated from http://ift.tt/2mqBFEk