#full house renovation cost

[complete-home-renovations]

Full House Renovation Costs: Get the Real Numbers from Complete Home Renovations

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[noahconstruction]

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[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

Basically, it’s discovered that to help stabilize Danielle, aka Ellie, it’d be best to have her be smaller. She refused to be turned into a kid by Frostbite/her own power ability, when Danny remembered the shrink ray his parents made. The side effect is that they’re kind of stuck as humans when they’re that small—they can use some ghost powers, but basically, it’s a weird side effect of the shrink ray. That’s canon, by the fucking way, lmao

Anyways, so Ellie agrees, and Danny will shrink himself with the ray to her size to help her out when needed/when she wants company her size, with Jazz, Sam, and Tucker occasionally helping out. Sam buys one of those really ornate Victorian dollhouses, with wooden everything, and Danny does some… renovations… so that it no longer opens and is a proper house. There’s still some oddities because it’s a dollhouse originally, but it was easier and faster to give her a home. One of the first additions was a water/wastewater system, followed like two hours later by an electrical system. Since it was so small, Danny was able to do it fairly quickly in his big size, occasionally going small and using the small window for using his powers to double check on things.

The water system had to be refilled every week, unless hooked up to a plumbing system in a house, which Danny made some outlets for in Jazz’s room—it was easier and had significantly less questions/didn’t stand out as much if placed in Jazz’s room. They usually did it every three days, though, as the plug-in process was still a bit… hinky. The tanks for holding the water were in the ‘basement’, which was mostly inaccessible from the inside of the dollhouse but basically looked like a big stand the dollhouse stayed on. Like someone ripped a full house out of the ground WITH the basement attached. There was a small access hallway down some stairs in the house for the clean water system, though.

The electric system was fairly simple, as it didn’t cost much energy to light a dollhouse and heat/cool water. There was an AC unit, Ellie’s request, but it hardly was used and was fairly efficient just due to pure size. It was fueled by ecto batteries, which Danny made sure had a few rechargability options—just because it was efficient energy didn’t mean it didn’t ever need recharging. There was a very small ecto filter, but due to its relative small size, was easy to clean and was fairly stable, so they had a whole closet of them just chilling out, both filled and empty. The battery itself could be charged by ecto sources, Danny’s own blood, or ambient ectoplasm gained by using something that looked like a solar panel and a satellite dish had a child that the batter could be placed in. The hookup also allowed for like… normal D cell batteries.

They would buy dollhouse furniture, and occasionally just buy the big version then shrink it down. Ellie had a huge old house to herself, basically, might as well go ham. And she had a fun time with the designer doll clothes Sam liked to get, although the cheap doll clothes from the store were also fun. Best option was just buying normal clothes and shrinking them, but using things that were already small or just making stuff using normal sized objects was fun.

At some point, though, the Fenton siblings decide to go on a trip. Ellie begs to be taken along, and Jazz agrees—there’s a doll showcase in Gotham, and Jazz wanted to see if anything caught Ellie’s interest. Danny, having a room in the dollhouse himself, also went along. Might as well make it a sibling’s trip, right?

Ellie can be full size for small chunks of time, which they did while exploring the expo. They found some cool things to add, and some doll clothes Ellie was far too interested in trying on, as well as some to force on Danny later. He sighed, but like—that’s his little cousin-sister, he’d put up with it. After all, he learned how to plumb an entire (miniature) house in two days when she refused to move in until it had a fully functional bathroom, so.

Anyways!

They have a fun time, and sure, lugging the relatively giant dollhouse was a PAIN, but it was Ellie’s home, and some stabilizing tech made it relatively safe to move without risking everything freaking breaking. They load everything in again, and the dollhouse is now restocked with clothes, tiny furniture, and a lot of shrunken supplies—some foods are just hard to work with full size, and are easier to shrink, okay? Also soap, paper goods, pencils and pens, books, etc. Jazz loads the thing into her car, and Danny offers to stay with Ellie in the dollhouse—so Jazz gets them in, and shrinks them down, holding onto the shrink ray in the meantime.

All is going relatively well in Gotham traffic until there’s a rogue attack.

Go figure.

Jazz ends up unconscious, and Danny and Ellie can’t do anything before the rogue is taken care of and a paramedic team comes up. They hide back in the dollhouse, listening as the medics say she seems to be okay, just unconscious. A relief, but now they’re taking Jazz away. Fenton luck states she’s one of the few actually injured. The Bat Brigade comes by, and Batman notices that there’s a wallet for one Danny Fenton. Red Robin confirms that Jazz was likely here with at least two other people, based on the ticket stubs for the expo. However, there is a strange lack of social media presence, Danny doesn’t have a photo ID, and there’s no way of knowing for SURE that it was just Danny with her, if it was just two other people, or if Danny was in the car with her. Still, as they can’t find him but DO have his sister and his wallet, they assume he might be missing, possibly kidnapped.

The Gotham PD of course take in the car, although it’s pretty trashed. Knowing well and good that the dollhouse and such things are actually quite expensive, Commissioner Gordon mentions that it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Batman to maybe hold onto the Fenton’s things that *aren’t* related to the investigation.

Batman just takes everything. Including a rather peculiar looking gun that seems to have sustained some damage during the attack and car crash.

Gordon sighs. Figures.

So, Danny and Ellie end up in Wayne Manor. Most of the things end up in the Batcave, but Alfred insists that they place the doll things upstairs in the manor proper—the cave isn’t *that* damp, but doll things are small and delicate. So, upstairs they go.

At first, it’s fine. Danny and Ellie are fine in the dollhouse, and it’ll be at least a week before any of the systems NEED to be worked with.

Then Ellie ends up with a massive migraine. She gets them, on occasion, a sort of growing pain. Usually, they just shrink some medicine for her as she needs it, because she’s like—twelve. While they did have some medicine that had been pre-shrunk, when they were stocking up in Gotham, it turns out pain medicine was more expensive there. Not by much, but they figured—they’ll just stock up in Amity Park, they’ll be there in two days.

Haha. Nope.

So, Danny finally has to venture out. He lucks into finding the first aid kit—why there was one in the main living room, he’s not sure—and is currently working on trying to get open the blister packet of an ibuprofen when Alfred finds him.

Alfred stares at this tiny boy with a tiny make-shift knife trying to get into… over the counter pain medication.

Danny stares at this butler guy who had very gently cleaned the outside and noted the strange fact that the dollhouse did not open.

Danny waves at Alfred.

Alfred waves a tiny finger back.

“Hello,” Alfred says softly, which is fantastic because loud noises could get painful—part of the reason for Ellie’s headache was an argument between Tim and Damian. “How do you do?”

Danny hesitates, before he makes an exaggerated so-so gesture.

“You understand me?”

Danny nods—it’s rare for people to understand what he’s saying when he’s 5 inches tall.

“How wonderful,” Alfred smiles. “And how can I help our young guest tonight?”

Danny gestures to the blister packet.

“Pain medication? Isn’t that a little bit large for you.”

The teen thinks for a second on how to communicate. He points to the pill, then makes a slight show of pretending to grind something, like a mortar and pestle.

Thankfully, Alfred got the idea. “Would it be easier if I ground it up for you?”

Danny takes a moment to think before accepting with an enthusiastic nod.

“Very well,” Alfred says, taking the blister packet in one hand. He then hold his other out, palm up, like a platform. “Would you like to come with me?”

Danny ‘his survival instincts died when he did’ Fenton gets into Alfred’s hand.

Alfred grinds up the pill into a fine powder. Danny hands him a tiny bottle—still large in Danny’s hands, as it was not a shrunk bottle—that he had tied around his waist. Alfred fills it, and hands it back.

“I assume you came from the tiny house we have in our living room?”

Danny again nods. Alfred takes him there, setting him down outside the front door. Danny bows, and sure it’s Japanese as hell, and he’s white as all get out, but it’s a generally understood gesture of thanks. He hopes.

Alfred understands it just fine. “I bid you goodnight, then. Perhaps we will talk more, when you are feeling better?”

Danny hesitates, again, but he nods. Alfred had been nice enough, so far.

Danny heads in, quickly measuring out the medicine—shrunk pressure plates and scales and weights made what it was measuring relative—to him the weights on the hand balance scale felt the same weight. Ellie got her medicine, and they both went back to sleep.

He told her in the morning what happened. Ellie was strangely gung-ho about meeting this butler guy, and so—when no one else was around—, she and Danny went onto the tiny balcony as Alfred came in to dust.

“Oh my,” he said. “There’s two of you, now. Should I expect more?”

Both of them did an exaggerated ‘no’ dance.

“Very well, I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself. I’m Alfred Pennyworth, the family butler. Welcome to Wayne Manor.”

[gaytommykinard]

actually tommy lives on the top floor of a duplex. he's been renting it for years, and the landlady is a sweet old woman who lives alone on the lower floor and is charging him like, 2005 market rates. he's thought about buying his own place, especially after transferring to harbor, something closer to his new workplace, but he's grown attached to the place itself and his landlady. they've developed a good relationship over the years and she does remind him of his late grandmother.

tommy takes care of odd jobs here and there, both in his own place and hers, saves her the hassle and cost of calling a plumber to fix a minor leak that only needs some pipe thread tape, cleans the gutters, drives her places if his work schedules allows. and she doesn't care if he wants to paint the walls or renovate the bathroom to put in a rain shower.

as she gets older tommy starts telling her to get herself a home health aide, offers to help her with the paperwork, but she refuses, insists she can handle herself just fine, thank you very much. tommy tells her "i'm not gonna live here forever, you know, i won't be around to help you, and then who's gonna look after you?" because he's been saving up to buy his own place and after a decade he's got a decent amount saved for a down payment, and alice tells him, "well, get on with it, boy, what are you waiting for? houses aren't getting any cheaper, you realise that?"

evan is so excited to meet her finally, he has no idea what he's in for because she gives him a stern look and asks him half a dozen questions and tommy has to interject and tell her to stop grilling his boyfriend, and alice raises an eyebrow and says, "i will when he puts a ring on your finger," and evan is stammering, scrambling for something to say, and tommy keeps his cool, says, "who's to say i'm not gonna put a ring on his finger?" and evan turns to look at him with that same awestruck expression like when tommy first kissed him, and then his face splits into a grin and it takes everything in him for tommy not to pull him in for a kiss.

alice rolls her eyes like, "oh, i don't know what the rules are with you boys. but i'll be expecting a hand-delivered invite to the wedding, you hear me?" and she sends them off, out the door, tells them to have a good time on their date and behave.

eventually, tommy goes around to her place one day for tea and lemon cake, and offers to buy the property from her, and alice gives him a look and says, "you know, that would save me a lot of hassle actually," and tells him to hurry up and get married and start adopting because she wants to meet her future grandkids before her time is up and tommy gets to his feet and hugs her so tight and when she pats his back and tells him, "oh honey, it's okay," tommy starts full on weeping.

[sk8terhoons]

Sunghoon fic recs

@asahicore Cherry Pits

This fic contains smut

Pairing: Dilf!hoon x younger!fem reader, neighbors to lovers

Word Count: 12.9k

Synopsis: Your alarmingly empty bank account forces you to find a last-minute summer job so that you can afford a trip with your friends. The extremely handsome customer that comes into the store just happens to be a young single dad who's renovating the old house next to yours. The tension that settles between the two of you as you start helping him fix up his house soon becomes unbearable, but it's all one-sided anyway, right?

More fics under cut!

@asahicore Stupid In Love

This fic contains smut

Pairing: hoon x fem reader, childhood best friends to lovers

Word Count: 22.1k

Synopsis: One night early on in your summer vacation, your best friend Sunghoon admits that his biggest anxiety about starting college is going there as a virgin - one thing leads to another, and you end up learning a few things from each other. The more time passes, the more obvious it becomes that your feelings for each other surpass friendship, but with the end of summer looming over your heads, it's hard to tell where these newfound emotions will lead you.

@jaylaxies To All The Boys I’ve Fucked Before, To The Boy: Who Took Me To Prom

This fic contains smut

pairing: Best friends brother!hoon x fem reader

Word Count: 19.6k

Synopsis: Prom—the last event of senior high school was right around the corner, but the only person who you wanted to go with had rejected you for his own reasons, leaving you upset and unwilling to attend the event. however, your best friend, mina, was hellbent on making you attend it and being a sweetheart, she ends up persuading her brother, sunghoon, to be your date for the night.

@zreamy SPF 23

This fic contains smut

Pairing: Sunghoon x fem!reader

Word Count: 31.8k

Synopsis: For as long as you can remember, your summers have been much the same, largely spent in your hometown, relaxing by the local pool. when you get back home this summer, things seem like they'll go the same way, until you get to the pool that is — when did the lifeguard get so hot?

@neo-percs Deep End

This fic contains smut

Pairing: Rich!Sunghoon x fem!reader

Word Count: 36.6k

Synopsis: After saving Sunghoon from drowning at the local pool; y/n offers to give him swimming lessons which leads into way more than expected.

@simpjaes Night Shift

This fic contains smut

Pairing: Boss/ Cam boy!hoon x afab reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Synopsis: Sunghoon, a keen and professional man between the hours of 8 AM to 5 PM. ServiceKing, a faceless and proud man between the hours of 9 PM to 12 AM. Sunghoon’s secret night-life has nothing to do with the faces he sees day after day...until it does.

Or the one where you pay for a one on one call with a faceless cam guy you’ve been watching for a little while, and the next day your boss is avoiding you like the plague. 

@simpjaes Day Shift

This fic contains smut

Pairing: Boss/ Cam boy!hoon x afab reader

Word Count: 14.5k

Synopsis: After finding out that your boss has seen, heard, and instructed you through some pleasurable nights while parading around as a faceless cam-boy, you decide that your best course of action is to: call out sick. use vacation days. avoid Park Sunghoon at all costs. Unfortunately, ten days doesn’t appear to be nearly enough time to erase what’s happened, and Sunghoon refuses to be avoided.

Or the one where sunghoon pretends that he isn’t an anxious mess over accidentally exposing himself and you just so happen to have a lot of fucking empathy. 

@jlheon Love Exists, I’m Full Of It

This fic contains smut

Pairing: Situationship!hoon x fem reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Synopsis: When park sunghoon breaks up with his long time girlfriend he needs something to get his mind off her, you happen to be the perfect distraction : a girl who’s naive and has never had a boyfriend

My 1st fic rec list! I hope you all love it, I worked super hard to pick my favs so i hope you all enjoy!

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

okay but the fact that we hear all about kaveh's life post-fall out with alhaitham, the fact he graduated, worked at construction firms and continued taking on others' burdens, had a hard time finding solo work because of how arts are perceived in sumeru, that he went to his mother's wedding in fontaine, that he took a vacation from work because he was stifled by the environment and felt he had lost motivation and worth as an artist, was determined to complete the palace of alcazarzaray at the cost of everything he owned just to have a tangible object of his efforts and view of art only for its outcome to further emaciate him, until he meets alhaitham for the first time in years, is understood at once, has no need to don a front as he does for everyone else in his life, is listened to, is challenged once more and reinvigorated in his perception of his ideals, is offered a second chance, a home, and accepts it, although he cannot comprehend why alhaitham would offer such a thing and yet not ask anything of relevant substance in return, other than rent

all of this, and we hear virtually nothing of alhaitham's life post-fall out with kaveh, besides his graduation and his taking on the job of the scribe. his character stories omit this part of his life whereas kaveh's is full of detail and emotion, mostly suffering. the first instance we see of alhaitham in this time is from kaveh's perspective when the two meet again in the tavern, and in this alhaitham endeavours to understand kaveh once more, before offering his house - the research centre previously allocated to the both of them for the success of their joint thesis before they fell apart - to kaveh.

we don't know why alhaitham moved out of his grandmother's house and into the research centre, why he renovated it from a research centre into a livable home, only that he did so after kaveh informed alhaitham through a third party that he was not in need of a house, nor do we know his thought processes and emotions in the years spent apart - the years that are carefully documented in kaveh's character stories. the image we are presented with is that of stasis; alhaitham pursues no other close friendships, he works as the scribe, owns a nice house within sumeru, is financially secure, and functions within, and carries out, his own ideals - is content with this way of life. in this, from alhaitham's perspective, there are no details necessary to give from this time

but in inviting kaveh to live with him, his character stories tell us that what he gains by doing so is the mirror of himself, both in personality and scholarly thinking, and in this, he is able to gain an enhanced view of the world, which otherwise would be limited. with kaveh being present in alhaitham's life, alhaitham believes that his vision is perfected, whereas it could not be before, with kaveh's absence. it is in this that we hear what alhaitham has been missing in his life, and ultimately, it is kaveh, not just as a scholar, but as a person

what is omitted from alhaitham's character stories is provided in kaveh's character stories; where we hear about kaveh's struggles, we don't hear about alhaitham's. perhaps this is because alhaitham did not struggle as kaveh did in terms of realising and achieving his ideals, but instead his struggles were in silence, recognising that his vision, and himself, had been compromised because he had rejected the ideals that served to enhance his own vision, that he had inadvertently rejected, and thus had been rejected by, kaveh.

[bouquetface]

Vedic Astro Notes 4

accuracy is influenced by entire chart.

this post doesn’t take into consideration all aspects, signs & depositor placements. all that is needed for personal accuracy. this is a general post.

4th House Ruler in 11th House:

Your family specifically the mother adds to your gains. They help grant your wishes.

Indicator of gaining through home related activities - ex: real estate.

4th Ruler is 8 away indicating the mother or home goes through a death/rebirth transformation. You could move very far or your parents could have divorced. These are just examples, your exact situation depends on entire chart.

If Jupiter is the ruler, you gain through homes and teaching. You can teach the people about the home or in the home. You can become an advisor. Your parents wisdom will help you gain. ex: they are business owners, watching them work later inspires you to begin your own business.

4th House Ruler in 9th House:

You can have a religious family. Yet, you can desire to explore other cultures, religions, countries, etc.

Teachers could have felt like parental figures to you.

You can live far from the birthplace. This doesn't always mean in a different country, you can simply be in a different city. You can leave your mother for education or life experience.

If Saturn is the ruler, you could have been at a distance from your mother.

Saturn can delay your education unless aspecting planets like jupiter or mercury. Saturn is putting restrictions in this area: tuition costs could make it difficult to continue. personal matters could take your focus away from education. education can become extremely difficult when you try to get higher education.

8th House Ruler in 10th House:

Generally, this shows mixed perception of your reputation. You can receive sudden rises in career. However, depending on entire chart this can be sudden downfalls in reputation.

Your work can involve research. You have to dig deeper for the truth. This can manifest in many ways - ex: marketing field - you must research to understand how certain demographics will react to certain products. OR science field - you research using the scientific method. Or law/crime field - you investigate.

If Mars is the ruler, you can have a physically active career. You could be a police offer, in the army. You could work for the government. You are an authority figure in your career.

Rahu conjunct Saturn in 7th

Rahu alone in 7th can give a unique/non expected partner. When conjunct saturn, it can give a spouse that is a lot older than the norm. This is because rahu amplifies the sign & planet it touches. This is not the only possible manifestation of this placement.

Rahu here still makes it likely the spouse could be from foreign lands or different culture.

Rahu conjunct Saturn in my experience is an indicator for a delayed marriage or marrying someone a lot older. Rahu brings taboo.

Accuracy will depend on full chart.

Planets 2 away from Venus

A common method in vedic is to check 2 away from your venus to see the MAIN thing you gain through marriage.

ex: Venus in 2nd H, Mercury is in 4th H. After marriage, you gain a home/land, a communicative & busy home life. You could desire education - going back to school, reading more, researching new hobby. This is the MAIN thing you gained not the only thing, likely it is the most significant gain for you.

ex: Venus in 6th H, Moon in 8th H. After marriage, you can gain a private home/family lifestyle. You are likely to have children soon after marriage. This is the MAIN thing you gained not the only, likely it is the most significant gain for you.

ex: Venus in 4th, Saturn in 6th. After marriage, you gain new responsibilities. And I know this doesn't sound fun, however, it is not a bad thing. Possible reasons for the increased work can be: you get pets, you want to save for a new home or renovate your home. Check sign for more insight.

ex: Venus in 8th, Jupiter in 10th. After marriage, you gain a lot. You could find good career opportunities and advancement. You can gain status and feel more confident about your reputation.

4th H ruler in 4th H

This suggests someone is confident and secure in their personal life and home life.

You can have loyalty to your home and family. You can have a good connection and interest in your ethnic background/family roots.

If mercury is the ruler, you can have communicative and busy home and family life. You can have educators/teachers in the home/family.

Sun conjunct Jupiter in 12th House

You may meet the husband in foreign lands. Your children could be born in foreign lands.

Your husband is likely to religious. They can be educated and/or educate you on their religion, culture or career. If sun is the lowest degree, it controls the conjunction which can make the spouse a bit arrogant due to their intelligence&education. They can be self righteous about their religion too.

At some point in life, you can be separated from your family - specifically the father. This can be due to a move and/or fights.

Sun conjunct Moon

You can become a determined person. The house and sign will show what you are determined on and how you get it.

You are independent and spiritual/religious with this placement.

If sun is the lowest degree, sun is controlling the conjunction. This indicates you are stoic, you struggle to express emotions, you are more introverted. You can have alone type hobbies like yoga, working out alone, reading, walks, etc.

Venus in Dhanishta Nakshatra

In a woman's chart, venus is you as a wife. In a man's chart, venus is your wife.

The wife will love music. She may even play an instrument. She may enjoy attending concerts.

Whether you are the wife or husband, you can make more money and are happiest when you are helping the spouse. The wife can help you in making wealth. I’ve seen this in the d9 chart’s of couples who work with each other later in life. ex: opening a cafe together.

For full accuracy one would have to check the pada and the ENTIRE chart. This is general info.

[rrrrinmaru]

bury me (raf x mc, nsfw)

wc: 3949 rating: E warning: pussy eating, strip tease

Up until the moment you’re sat in the entertainment room that’s apparently been renovated on emergency notice, you don’t quite believe the situation you’ve found yourself in. 

It started as an off-handed comment you didn’t think much of. Frankly, you didn’t think anything of it—the two of you were watching a movie (ok, Magic Mike, it was Magic Mike) and you mentioned, casual as ever, that you’ve always wanted to see a lap dance up close. 

Rafayel went still. But Rafayel goes still at the strangest things—he once froze up at the sight of you petting a cat on the sidewalk and fell to the ground right next to the fire hydrant, in broad view of everyone walking down that very pavement—so again, you didn’t think much of it. Maybe he wanted to see a lap dance up close as well. Maybe, irrationally, he got a little jealous at the thought of you thinking of watching other men grind against flushed women, eyes bright as they watch the sheen of sweat on thick muscles centimetres away from their face. 

You didn’t expect this. You didn’t expect—

“You spent how much on the lights?” You ask, bewildered. “You got these custom made?”

“I wasn’t about to install cheap LED lights in my house,” Rafayel replies, fiddling with something in the corner. “The cost doesn’t matter. The real expensive baby was the audio system, but I already owned that before I got the bright idea to remodel this place.”

“You spent money to turn a room in your house into a strip club?” You say, voice slightly hysterical on the last two words. You almost don’t want to know the answer to your next question, but things have already progressed far enough. There’s no coming back from this. “Where’s the stripping pole?”

Rafayel shrugs. He’s wearing this thin, sheer fabric; so pale it’s almost transparent. It clings to the width of his shoulders, dipping down between the slope of his shoulder blades and the top tapers off at his waist. When he turns around, you can’t help but stare at the (quite frankly) whorish cut at the front. 

The front of the shirt has this deep plunge all the way down to his abdomen. It’s practically two strips of fabric loosely folded over each other, and if he bends over, you get a full view of the hard planes of his chest and the curve of his tits. 

He’s also wearing leather pants. Did you mention that? They look like they were painted on. The material stretches tight over his thighs, making him look even taller than he already does. 

His feet are bare, toes curling into the rug covered floor. Rafayel stands there, weight shifted to one leg as he always does, and he practically preens under your undivided attention. Under your greedy, hungry gaze as you run your eyes up and down his body. 

Behind him, the stereo system flares to life. This persistent, thumping drum beat slowly starts to build.

“Can’t we just—you know?” You say without thinking, leaning forward instinctively at the thought of getting your mouth on Rafayel. Has he even looked in a mirror before he decided on this particular set of clothes?

Rafayel smirks. Fuck, you swear you can see the literal imprint of his cock through his pants. 

“Not yet,” he murmurs, voice honeyed as he takes his sweet time to walk over to you, that casual, loping stride that you can’t look away from. “Be patient.”

“This is the first time you’ve turned down my offer,” you say petulantly. “Please?”

“We haven’t even gotten to the good part,” Rafayel says, eyes glittering as he leans over. His hands land on the back of the curved sofa you’re seated on—they frame you like a solid wall of muscle, caging you in his embrace. His legs are on either side of your thighs, close enough that you swear you can feel the kiss of leather against your skin, the sheer heat radiating off his body. 

The beat is loud, now. It’s loud enough that it sounds like you’re at a club; it sinks through your chest, filling your body up like a balloon as it seizes your senses. Your heart pulses in time with the heavy, throbbing bass—you stare up, eyes wide as all you hear is the sound of your heart and all you see is Rafayel’s eyes. 

You could drown in that gaze. You know you could. 

“No touching,” Rafayel breathes out. When he bends over, cheek barely milimetres away from your own, your breath hitches at the view down his shirt. “First rule of the club, Miss. No touching the performers.”

“Raf,” you whine, fingers curling desperately into fists by your side as you trace your eyes over the curve of his Adam’s Apple, the crook of his shallow collarbone, the slope of his tits and the fucking sight of his nipples, pebbling from the cold. You want to flick them. You want to put your hands on his abdomen and cup his tits and you want to mess him up. 

“It’s better when you wait for it,” Rafayel murmurs. His breath is hot against the crook of your ear, and you can feel the break in his breathing when he laughs. “Do you like this?”

“Do something,” you whine, tilting your head back just to get a better look at the lithe line of Rafayel’s body hovering over yours. It’s driving you insane, having him this close but not touching—you’ve been conditioned to expect skin contact from Rafayel, his little absent-minded touches as he grazes his shoulder against yours, a hand curving around your waist to gently nudge you aside when he walks by, fingers wrapping around yours. 

When he exhales, you swear you can see it. The shadow of smoke in the dim light, swooping down in the empty space between both of your lips. It’s maddening having him here, having this sliver of space between you two. You could reach up around his waist and drag him down; you could wrap one hand around the base of his neck and pull and he would go, sweetly, obediently, and he would make the most delicious sounds into your mouth. 

You know this. You know it like you know the back of your hand, because he’s done it a million times before. You think you’ve never known anyone as well as you know Rafayel—like looking into a deep pool of still water and finding your reflection looking back. 

Rafayel hums, the heat of his breath scattering over your collarbones as he rolls his hips. You swallow, mind spinning from the slightest scrape of tight leather against your thighs. He does it again, hips grinding in this slow, torturous move right above your core.

“Your muscles,” you say weakly, eyes riveted to the tension in his abdomen. His muscles are taut, pale skin clearly visible through the dip in his shirt. A bead of sweat drips down, tracing a path between his pectorals and down, down, down—

Your eyes follow it greedily, wishing you could chase after it with your tongue. 

“You look delirious,” Rafayel whispers, his voice low and hoarse. There’s a husk to his words, and you can’t help the way you swallow, fingers tightening further into fists. You’re familiar with that voice. That’s how he sounds after he’s been worked up beyond belief, until all he can think of is laying you out and eating you clean. 

This is clearly doing it for him too, just as much as it’s working on you. The lights flicker, bleeding from one color into the next. It’s crazy how Rafayel looks bewitching in every color; the neon red light looks like crimson splashed across his face, highlighting the cut of his cheekbone and the glint of his teeth when he smirks at you. The blue light casts his face into darkness, smoothing his features out and the shadow stretches over him, the color melting into his hair. He looks like a siren rising out of a water surface, eyes half-lidded and lips barely parted, fingers itching to steal your soul away. 

You’re possessed by the sudden desire to dump a glass of water on him. This look would be greatly improved if he was drenched to the bone, you think dizzily, with crystal droplets hanging off his eyelashes, dipping in the crook of his lips, pooling in his clavicle. His shirt, translucent as it is, would turn completely transparent. It would cling to his skin even more than it already does. 

“Please,” you beg, not even sure what you’re begging for. His hands on you. His mouth on you. His weight on you, pressing you down, holding you in place as he does whatever he wants to your body. 

His smirk is so self-satisfied that you want to kiss it off his lips. 

“Patience,” he murmurs. Rafayel braces his knees against the seat of the couch and leans back, wearing a brazen look as he looks at you. His smile spreads as he crooks his fingers at you—you bend forward, lips parting as if ready to use your tongue to trace the grooves on his abdomen.

Rafayel laughs. It’s a smug sound, but you can’t even fault him. He cuts a stunning figure like this, thighs spread and framed in shining leather, shirt so low and open that you don’t know where to look; the light drips over his skin like someone poured liquid gold all over him, drenching him in a moving pattern of red and blue lights. 

He holds a hand out. “Your hand,” he says, and you quickly put your palm in his like you’re no better than a dog. 

“Thank you, baby,” Rafayel teases, flipping your hand over to press a kiss to your fingertips before he pulls it to his jaw. You flex your fingers, trying to swallow past the sudden thudding of your heart as he presses your hand to the slant of his jaw, down to the line of his neck. 

You’re not given any time to linger on the heat radiating off his body. He pulls your hand further down, your fingers grasping uselessly at the meat of his chest, trembling as your palm flattens against his skin. 

And then, as if he’s been doing this all his life, Rafayel arches his back. His muscles roll in this slow, sinuous movement as he drags your hand down his abdomen. 

You can feel it in aching clarity. The expanding of his rib cage as he breathes, the tension in his muscles as he clenches his abdomen to even out the grind of his hips. The heat, that absurd, blistering heat that you’re certain will melt your fingerprints clean off your fingers. 

He does it again. Leans forward, eyes glittering in the flickering lights as he arches his back, letting you feel the way his muscles move under his skin as he rolls his hips. 

Without thinking, you reach forward with your other hand. You’re not even sure where you’re aiming at—you just want to get your hand on him. The details can be handled later. 

But Rafayel catches your wrist before your fingers even scrape past the loose material of his shirt. “No touching the merchandise,” he chides, holding you in place.

Your fingernails scratch pointedly at his abdomen. It makes him huff out a laugh—a surprised, breathy sound that for some reason gives you the urge to get your mouth on him now. 

“I’m already touching you,” you breathe out, eyes glazing over when Rafayel clenches his abs just to watch the way you lose focus. 

“I let you touch me,” Rafayel shoots back, smug as ever. “You don’t get to touch me without permission.”

“Raf—”

“Just enjoy it, Miss,” he murmurs, nudging one knee in between yours to slide your thighs apart. “I’m putting on a show. Don’t you like it?”

You like it a bit too much. All of a sudden, you realise why people like to keep pretty things in cages. Rafayel would look entrancing like that, you think, eyes wandering over his body. Lounging in a long column of water with transparent walls, like a fish tank in an aquarium large enough to store a whole pod of dolphins. Stuck with no where to go. 

But your breath catches in your throat before you can reply with something intelligent. Rafayel presses his lips to the underside of your neck, at the spot where your jaw meets your throat—featherlight, so quickly that you almost miss it.

While you’re frozen, breath trapped under your tongue, he hums and traces a faint path down your body. His lips on your neck, your collarbones, the dip between your tits—he leans down, switching to your bare arm when the fabric of your slip dress gets in the way. 

Surely he can feel it. The pulse of your heartbeat under your skin, a mile a minute, fluttering at the sight of his half-crescent lips trailing against the sensitive underside of your forearm. 

And then he gets on his knees. He’s right there, eyes bright and glittering like jewels under the dancing lights as he leans forward to press the side of his cheek against your thigh. 

You can feel the way his breath heats up against your knee. It feels like he’s burning a mark into you, etching the shape of his lips into your skin. You won’t ever be able to remove it. It’ll be branded into your inner thigh, the crimson half-moon stains that mark you as his.

“Spread your legs for me,” Rafayel whispers, lips curving into a smile. “Open up, baby.”

The flush in your cheeks feels absurd. You must look drunk, inebriated after one too many shots as your thighs spread instinctively to frame Rafayel in between them. He reaches up, each hand wrapping around the outside of your knees, fingers dipping into the crook at the back.

His grip is light, barely any pressure on your legs, but you feel like his hands may as well be two shackles against your knees, holding you in place. 

“Wider,” he says, eyes brilliant in the flickering lights. You could drown in that gaze, if the heat in your core didn’t kill you first. “Come on, gorgeous.”

“Raf,” you groan, thighs spreading even further. It makes you slip from your position on the sofa, inching further down just to make space for your legs to open wider.

The fabric of your dress rucks up around your hips. It folds messily, and Rafayel holds your gaze in this heartstopping, torturous moment as his fingers creep up and under your dress.

There’s something about it. Something you can’t explain, not even with an entire dictionary at your disposal. There is something about the way you can’t see his fingers, his palms as he slides them further up your thighs, below the crease of silk. The way the back of his hands and his wrists slowly, gradually disappear under your dress. While he keeps his gaze on you, eyes burning with such intent and desire it makes you breathless. 

His fingers bump up against your underwear,  the way the fabric digs into your thighs. The shock of it all makes you yelp a little, hands flying forward to feel blindly for Rafayel’s hands under your dress.

You’re not sure what purpose you want to achieve. You’re just—it’s just—it’s just a lot, okay, and the way he looks at you is so—

Rafayel doesn’t do anything. His fingers go still, frozen under your grip, but you can feel the bracing heat of them through the thin fabric of your underwear. Your damp underwear. If his fingers were to slip, you know he would be able to press his thumb against the wet spot right at your slit, or slide higher to press at your throbbing clit. 

You make this low, reedy noise, and let go of his hands. You shift even lower on the sofa, back curved as you lean your head back against the headrest. Your thighs spread just a little bit wider. 

“Thank you, baby,” Rafayel murmurs, eyes finally lowering as he lifts the skirt of your dress. “Look at how pretty you are.”

“Get on with it,” you bite out, voice shaky from arousal. The music is getting to you—the deep, pulsing bass throbs at your temples, holding your heart in a vice grip. The singer is crooning something; his deep, low voice rumbling on and on about sex and you’re too out of it to properly register the lyrics. 

Rafayel pays you no mind. He takes his own sweet time to push your dress further up your hips, exposing the line of your thighs and your underwear to his hungry gaze. 

And then, right under your eyes, he leans in and presses a kiss to your stiff clit.

“Raf!” You try to shut your thighs on instinct, hips jerking at the sudden pressure against your clit, but Rafayel’s hands are firm against the inside of your thighs and he holds you open. He forces your legs wider, and he looks up at you as he fits his mouth to the middle of your panties, tongue flat against where your core burns the hottest. 

Fuck, you think, mouth open as you try to gasp for air. Rafayel is good at this—too good, you think, to the point where you flush when you catch yourself staring at his mouth for too long sometimes—and he breathes out on your cunt, relishing in the way your clit twitches in your panties.

“You’re so fucking cute,” Rafayel murmurs, pulling the fabric taut over your pussy so he can see your swollen clit straining through your panties. He gives it another kiss, and you arch your back at the electricity that lights your body up when he does that. Rafayel knows what you like, and he wields that knowledge like a weapon. 

You gaze at him, eyes half-lidded as you try to reach for his hair. Rafayel ducks away from your searching fingers, giving you a smile when you scowl at him.

“No touching the merchandise,” he reminds you. 

A disgruntled noise leaves your mouth. How are you supposed to hold him in place when he won’t let you touch him? “Take them off, Raf, please—”

It’s as if Rafayel was put on this Earth specifically to raise your blood pressure. Even when he has his mouth on your cunt, face between your legs, he’s still possessed by the overpowering urge to do something that goes against what you say. 

“Not yet,” he says, nonplussed, and drags your underwear to the side to expose your dripping center. “Look at how wet you are.”

Rafayel’s voice is gravelly, hoarse as he stares at you. Your pussy clenches instinctively—his gaze feels heavy, like a physical weight bearing into you. You’d really like a physical weight bearing into you right now, actually, and you know exactly where you can find one.

He presses his tongue to your clit. Your hips spasm, eyes rolling into the back of your head when he closes his lips around your swollen bud and sucks. It feels like fire burning through your entire body, pleasure sparking in your veins when he laps at your clit. You could cum like this, his clever tongue working your clit over and over in the soft wetness of his mouth. 

“So pretty,” Rafayel murmurs to himself, not even caring if you hear. He drags his tongue down, licking along the length of your cunt, spit mixing with the wetness dripping from your pussy. He rearranges his grip on your inner thigh—his palm frames the vee of your hips now, thumb pulling at the side of your cunt to open you up for his taking. 

Rafayel eats you out like a man possessed. There’s this wild, desperate hunger in him, in the way he moves his mouth, the way he surfaces to gasp for air before going back to dip his tongue into your pussy and lick at your insides. He eats you out so greedily that you can truly believe he would be happy here, trapped between your legs and buried in your cunt for so long he goes breathless while you go cross-eyed with pleasure so overwhelming it makes you dizzy.

“Fuck,” Rafayel groans, panting against your cunt. His breath feels like he’s blowing hot smoke against your clit, making it twitch uncontrollably with every gust of air over it. You’re so worked up that just this is enough to make your hips jerk forward, chasing the ghost of his mouth to try to get it back on your cunt. “You taste so fucking good, Miss—”

“More,” you beg, straining against the sofa to try to get leverage, any kind of leverage to tilt your hips up. “Please, Raf, I’m close—fuck, I’m—”

This time, he doesn’t need to be told twice. He moves his head, tongue curling as he fucks it into your throbbing pussy. You’re so close, right on the precipice—it’s like your entire body is a livewire, hips jerking uncontrollably whenever his tongue hits that sweet spot and making your nerves light up with pleasure. It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open; you want to keep your eyes on Rafayel, to see the way his curls bounce as he mouths hungrily at your cunt. But the pleasure is so devastating, so mind-numbing that you can’t help the way your eyes flutter shut, your body unable to concentrate on more than one sensation at once. 

Your clit is so stiff that it aches. And when Rafayel licks at it, flicking his tongue against your swollen clit and relishing in the desperate, needy sounds falling from your mouth—

It crescendos like a tsunami wave rising to its peak. Your body freezes, mouth falling open as you arch your back, pushing up, up, up against Rafayel’s tongue. It spreads through you like a wildfire, burning you up from the inside out. Your mind is blank, you can’t think, you can’t even make a sound. 

You just gasp, silent as the orgasm crashes over you like the tide, taking you under and drowning you beneath the water. Rafayel keeps fucking going, sucking at your clit to keep you right on that knife’s edge, pleasure melting into overstimulation because he knows you like it when it aches. When it becomes a little biting, when it starts to hurt just a little. 

He laps at your clit until you shiver, hands weakly pressing against his forehead. Rafayel gives your cunt one last lick, sucking at the lips of your pussy and licking his lips when he catches your gaze. 

“All done?” He asks, reaching up to wipe the visible remnants of your orgasm from his jaw. “Another one?” 

“I want to suck your cock,” you say, the breath still mostly fucked out of you. “Come—come here.”

“Nuh-uh,” Rafayel tells you, rising back to his feet. The music is still thumping through the walls, resounding in the room as you tilt your head back and stare up at him. “I’m not done. It isn’t a strip show until I’ve gotten naked.”

You blink at him. He still—

“Okay,” you say uselessly. You can see the thick outline of his cock through his pants, so visible that you’re almost certain the leather will burst. “Go on.” 

He gives you this smug, confident smile, and you politely don’t mention how the bottom half of his mouth is still wet from your cum. 

==

© rrrrinmaru 2024 | no unauthorised publication or reproduction allowed

[bluestar5934]

Inspired by Deligracy's latest build. I wanted to try something out of my comfort zone and try building a mid-century home. I went more with the 70s color scheme, so it's kinda ugly, but you could always renovate it to be more modern.

This house cost around 108,000 simoleons. It has 4 bedrooms, 3 full bathrooms, and 2 half baths. There's a loft up top that you could turn into anything, and I made sure to include a conversation pit for the mid-century aesthetic.

Download (SFS)

(All CC is included)

[complete-home-renovations]

Full House Renovation Costs: Get the Real Numbers from Complete Home Renovations

Planning a full house renovation? Complete Home Renovations helps you estimate the cost of transforming your old house into a dream home. Check out our infographic to better understand the costs involved in a complete renovation project!

[c-m-stuff]

Secret Santa

Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

-Description: You and Spencer are together. It's secret Santa time.

-Warnings: Fluffiness

-Word count: 1157

-Note: A sweet fic for the upcoming holidays. Do you guys love Christmas as much as me?🎄🎁

Masterlist

Y/N POV:

'That was delicious, Dave.' JJ complimented the Italian man, the whole team agreeing.

'You really went all out this year.'

'Of course, I went all out. It's Christmas Eve for God's sake.' he replied, while we all laughed.

'My favorite was the wiiiiine.' Penelope giggled, as she poured herself another glass of wine, causing everyone to chuckle.

It became a tradition to all celebrate Christmas Eve at David's place. It was nice, spending time together without standing next to a dead body. Another tradition was secret Santa. The game you pull blindly a name out of a bowl to thereafter buy a Christmas present for that person. I've always loved it.

'Calm down with the wine, baby girl. We don't want a re-do of last year, when you all told us what's in the presents, before we got to actually open them.'

I giggled at Derek's statement, as I felt someone sitting on the couch next to me. Looking up, it was my genius boyfriend.

After pinning at one another for almost a year, the pretty boy himself admitted his feelings and asked me out for a date. The situation it happened wasn't the normal one, though. It was the end of a workday at the BAU, as the elevator suddenly decided to stop working. While we were in it! After panicking at first, and calling the team, we got stuck for a good hour. Which let us to admit our feelings for one another, all while curled up on the elevator floor. After that, time went on, and so did the dates. And, then there was one special moment were he asked me to be his girlfriend. I am still thankful for that elevator to stop working on that special day.

'It's secret Santa time!' David announced, and everyone went to grab their presents from under the Christmas tree, before heading to the comfortable couch.

JJ pulled Emily's name and bought her a gift card from a nice clothing shop and a tequila bottle. Emily got Aaron and decided to gift him with a black coat and a reading light for if he goes over paperwork in bed. Aaron drew Derek's name and bought him two tickets to a football game and a new tool belt for when he is renovating homes. Derek got David and gifted him new cooking equipment and a bottle of 30 years old scotch. David pulled Penelope's name and decided to gift her a pair of beautiful, pink heels and two tickets to a theater play. Penelope got JJ and presented her with a gorgeous necklace she's been talking about buying but never got around to and a mock with a text saying: "I'm a mom, what's your superpower?".

As everyone was done gifting the other their presents, they all realized Spencer and I drew each others names, considering we're the only ones left.

'Of course the two love birds got each other.' Derek commented, a grin plastered on his face. Although, it didn't went unnoticed by me when Derek winked at JJ, who was already grinning by herself. Then, it hit me that JJ was the one who was in charge of the bowl full of names.

'Okay, pretty girl, you first.' Derek said, as I gave my present to Spencer.

I watched as he carefully tore the wrapping paper off, revealing the first edition copy of the book The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury.

'No (Y/N), you did not!' he exclaimed, enthusiastic.

'How did you- Where did you-' he looked flabbergasted and guilty at the same time.

'You didn't have to, I would have been fine with a gift card from the book store. This must have costed you a fortune.'

'Ahh, not quite, genius. Well, I was last helping my grandparents with moving out. They're going to live in an apartment instead of a way too big house, like I told you. And, surprisingly, I found the book on the attic amongst some other books. I got it for free.' he kept staring at me in shock, still flabbergasted. He instantly wrapped me into a greatful hug, pressing multiple kisses on my head.

'Thank you. Thank you so much!'

'That's not all, pretty boy. Open the book.' I told him, as he did. A gift card from the bookstore revealed. Everyone laughed at the earlier mention of a gift card for books, as Spencer once again thanked me with words and a hug.

Then, he gave me a gift bag, covered with Christmas trees. I took the first thing I felt and tore off the wrapping paper. It revealed a stunning vintage camera. My eyes widened, admiring the, in my eyes, piece of art. I've always adored polaroid photos.

'I remembered you saying that you really wanted one. You wanted to capture moments like these, and that you loved the reality of the photos because you have only one shot.'

'Thank you so much! It's amazing!' I pressed him in a tight hug, before he spoke again:

'There's more, though.'

We ended the hug, as I reached for the bag and took the other present out. I was quick in ripping of the wrapping paper, seeing it was a beautiful notebook. He clearly knows my love for notebooks and this one was covered with blue butterflies. Absolutely gorgeous.

'Thank you! I love it!' once again, we shared a tight hug, as Spencer whispered something in my ear.

'That's not everything.' I pulled back and looked at him with a surprised face.

'There is more?' he nodded, gave me the most sweetest smile, and went down on one knee. I gasped, tears already forming into my eyes.

'(Y/N), you're the best thing that ever happened to me. Since the first day I met you, you were nothing but kind, you listened always to my rambling, and you made me a better person. I love you for for being you. You are beautiful, inside and outside. (Y/N), you are my future. Make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?' I was still shocked and couldn't believe this was happening. My soulmate was proposing. I couldn't be more happy.

'YES! YES, I WILL!' I flew in his arms, everyone cheering and clapping.

Tears were now fully pouring out of my eyes, and it wasn't different for Spencer. My fiancé. It felt so good using that word.

'And, I can't wait for you to be my husband.'

'I can't wait for you to be my wife.' he whispered in my ear, as I did the same with him.

_________________________

[noahconstruction]

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Noah Construction & Builders Inc. specializes in full-house remodeling, offering a comprehensive range of services to transform your entire living space. From conceptualization to completion, their team of skilled professionals takes care of every detail, ensuring a seamless and stress-free remodeling experience.

The full house remodeling cost in Nassau County, NY, is a significant factor for homeowners, and Noah Construction & Builders Inc. addresses this by providing cost-effective solutions without compromising on quality. Whether you're aiming for a modern and minimalist look or a classic and timeless design, their experienced team will work with you to bring your vision to life. Contact us now! Dial (631) 750-2837 or visit noahconstruction-builders.com.

[handysolutionsrenovation]

HandySolutions Renovation Contractor — Bathroom and Basement Specialists is a local company that provides second to none bathroom renovation in Toronto. So if you live anywhere in the area, we got you covered! Our Toronto bathroom renovators have extensive experience offering local residents and businesses a variety of services, including bathroom renovation.

HandySolutions Renovation Contractor — Bathroom and Basement Specialists 1140 Yonge St, Toronto, ON M4W 2L8 (416) 577–3368

My Official Website: https://handysolutions.ca/ Google Plus Listing: https://www.google.com/maps?cid=10231939510325430936

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[mariacallous]

At the end of January, clips from a film about the housing market in Russian-occupied Mariupol began circulating on TikTok and X (formerly Twitter). After the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, the Russian army held Mariupol under siege for 85 days, all the while relentlessly pummeling the city with missile and air strikes. Mariupol was effectively reduced to rubble, and no one knows how many lives were lost — though some estimates place the number as high as 100,000. As soon as the Russian authorities had captured the city, they set about rebuilding it and erasing any trace of war crimes.

The film, titled “Shocking Prices for Apartments in Mariupol — Millions for Ruins” was released in November on the YouTube channel “Mirnyie” (the plural form of “peaceful” in Russian and the first part of “peaceful inhabitants,” a Russian term used to distinguish non-combatants from military personnel in conflict zones). The Mirnyie project is led by “war correspondent” Regina Orekhova, a journalist from the Russian state news agency RIA Novosti. In 2022, she received a special award from the Russian Union of Journalists for “courage in fulfilling journalistic duty.”

The Mirnyie project, as one might surmise from its name, explores the lives of ordinary people in the conflict zone. “These are the stories of people who found themselves caught in the crossfire — some left, while others stayed. [We share] their experiences, how they survive, and what they think about,” reads the description. Judging by the channel, Orekhova primarily works in Mariupol. Previous reports of hers cover topics such as Azovstal’s underground tunnels, the sea port, city maternity hospitals, and the drama theater, which was destroyed by a Russian airstrike while an estimated 1,000 civilians were sheltering there.

In the introduction to the half-hour film, Orekhova promises to answer the following questions: “How do you buy an apartment in Mariupol? Is it more profitable to invest in ‘ruins’ that you can resell once renovated? How do you rent commercial space for a business here and how much does it cost? What kinds of apartments are for sale and what determines the price?” Orekhova explains that in Mariupol, there are “damaged buildings” as well as “brand new and renovated ones.” “The real estate market is very unconventional. We’ve studied it in detail and we’ll tell you all about it,” she promises. 

Orekhova speaks with three local realtors who show her properties for sale in different parts of the city. As it turns out, these are mostly half-destroyed apartments, hastily abandoned by residents who left all their personal belongings behind as they fled. However, even such properties, according to the realtors, are in high demand. In some cases, actual ruins, where just parts of the walls survived the bombings, are for sale. However, Russian construction companies will restore these buildings later for free, which significantly increases prices. There’s also the rare property untouched by war, or newly renovated apartments in restored buildings. Prices for these range from four to six million rubles (about $50,000-$66,000). Apartments in historic Stalin-era buildings in the center of Mariupol with surviving inner courtyards (i.e., enclosed parking), renovated entrances, and sea views are considered premium housing.

The film doesn’t explain why or, more importantly, by whom all the housing in Mariupol was destroyed. Realtors talk evasively about “all those events” or “military actions.” Orekhova asks how many real estate agencies are currently operating in Mariupol. “Well, there aren’t many surviving citizens per square meter, you could say, but they exist, of course,” a realtor answers.

Showing a damaged three-room apartment in the center of Mariupol, real estate agent Natalia remarks that “one shouldn’t focus on the consequences of what happened to the apartment but on the apartment’s potential.” There’s no electricity, the ceiling is leaking, and personal belongings, including toys and a highchair, lie strewn about — but the windows have been replaced. Natalia points out the “magnificent view” from the balcony. “These buildings have survived more than one war and, as you can see, are still standing,” Natalia says encouragingly. According to her, it would be too painful for the previous owners to come back and see their home like this, which is why they’re looking to sell the apartment in its current condition.

The realtors say that apartments are mostly bought by newcomers “from big Russia” and bemoan that locals can’t afford newly constructed housing. According to them, Russian authorities introduced a special two percent mortgage rate for people from the self-proclaimed “Donetsk People’s Republic” and “Luhansk People’s Republic” who have Russian citizenship. But locals can’t get approved because most aren’t officially employed — there are no jobs with decent salaries in Mariupol.

Luisa, the head of a real estate management company, explains that it’s virtually impossible for Mariupol residents to get an apartment without Russia’s help. She says they “can’t afford to buy back their old homes in Mariupol or to purchase new ones.” When new construction is put up where their destroyed homes used to be, the mortgage payments are out of reach. Luisa recalls how an apartment building in the center, leveled in the bombings, was cleared away to make room for new construction. Residents were offered housing somewhere on the outskirts as compensation, but they weren’t able to buy apartments in the new building being built on their property, even though they’re legally registered at the address.

Tatiana, another realtor, thinks everything in Mariupol is “getting back on track.” She says people are returning, “even those who didn’t plan to.” “The demand [for apartments] is very high, much higher than the supply,” Tatiana explains. “If an apartment is in poor condition but at a good price, it goes quickly. The interested buyers are mainly newcomers. People from Siberia are also eyeing our seaside breeze.”

Tatiana tells Orekhova that everything is “looking up” for the city:

Mariupol has never experienced such rapid growth. The city is developing before our eyes. It’s happening in such a way that even we don’t know where things will improve tomorrow, where slums will turn into upscale neighborhoods. Because our sky is blue. When I say this, everyone smiles, actually. But before, our sky used to be gray or brown, never blue. And now life is getting better; every cloud has a silver lining. You just don’t want to remember the military operations; you go numb. But when you see what’s happening in Mariupol — everything will be fine, everything will work out.

[a-whispering-echo]

at first, Band!Nightmare couldnt comprehend how Dust was homeless. after all, its not like houses cost much money, right? and how was he starving? How much could a loaf of bread cost, pft, 13$ maybe? why could he not afford that?

its as Nightmare got older, and spent more time around his poor, and middle class friends, that he started to learn that, NO he was VERY rich, and VERY privileged, and hed been blinded by that, blind to the suffering and everyday things most people deal with.

this was mostly the reason he ran away from home on his 18th birthday, and started renovating the apartment complex with his mothers stolen money, or his 'inheritance' as he calls it, and started building the band.

at the time, Horror had his 'accident' and Nightmare offered to be his full time carer for the year before he was a legal adult, and they lied together in a small flat - Killer and Cross were in the orphanage at this time, and Dust was on the streets still - and Nightmare knew he had a while before the apartment was finished and safe to move into at that point, but the idea, and what eventually happened, was that he'd get them all in that place, get them SAFE, in a nice place, with a steady job - the band he was working on, seeing as so many of them played instruments - in a house where they didnt need to pay rent, because HE can afford it all.

and that is exactly what happened.

(minus Cross who was away in the army at the time.... oops. Not that any of THEM knew that, dude just disappeared without a word one day...)

[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 2 - farmer

pairing: farmer!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which you live a quiet yet exciting and passionate love with your husband on his family's farm.

word count: 1434

warnings: domestic fluff, crop farmer not animal, mentions of a knife in terms of cooking

spence-tober masterlist

There was a creaking noise. There, as you stood at the large farm style sink while you were washing off some vegetables for dinner. You almost missed it with the sound of the water rushing out of the faucet, but you caught it. Just barely.

A stone cold expression washeed over your face and you turned the faucet off.

No other noise permeated throughout the one-floor renovated country farmhouse. No more water. No more creaking. Not even the sound of your breath, as it caught in your throat.

You slowly turned your torso and body around, a full 180 degrees. 

“Spencer Walter Reid. You better not be trekking mud and dirt through this kitchen.” You scold lightly as you look at your husband who froze in his step. 

Like you had guessed by the lack of shuffling or scuffing sounds at the back door of the house, Spencer’s work boots were caked in layers of dirt and mud and soil. The cuffs of his overalls were tucked into the boots to avoid the grime from touching his skin, but that did no good for his arms and hands judging by the look of them. 

His face was a little better off. A perpetual redness decorated his cheeks and tips of his ears, slightly sunburned from being outside all day, nearly every day. His hair was a mess, but it was a sign that he was indeed wearing that large brimmed hat you got him for his birthday. 

His expression read guilty but he still didn’t respond.

You nod at his feet, “Boots off. Wash off in the sink, please.” You say as you move out of the way of the sink, bringing your collander of vegetables with you to the island of the rustic kitchen.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Spencer responds finally, following your instructions and shirking off his boots to the nearby shoe rack and moving towards the sink.

“How’s everything looking?” You inquire as the sound of water echoes through the room once again.

“Good,” Spencer responds, “The rain from this morning helped shorten the work day so I only had to check the hydration in the greenhouse. The humidity was a little high, but everything’s straightened out now.”

His now clean hands turned the water off and he turned to you as he dryed them off with the little hand towel hanging on the rack above the sink.

“Did you know that too much humidity in the air can cause crops and other plants to attract bacteria, fungi, pests, and grow mold? Not only will crops attract more bacteria, but imbalance humidity levels to the type of crop can cause the transpiration rates to slow, prohibiting development and growth.”

His eyes gleam with excitement and wealth of knowledge as he looks at you, explaining with a smile. Hanging up the towel in its rightful place, Spencer shuffled over to you and wrapped his arms around your middle, resting his chin on your shoulder, almost nuzzling into you.

You turn your head and kiss his cheek with a gentle smile, “No, I didn’t know that.”

Spencer had met you when he was in university studying agriculture and you for renewable energy engineering. You started dating in your undergrad, moved in together and got engaged while pursuing masters, and got married once you both had graduated. 

Moving back to Spencer’s family’s farm was a joint decision between the two of you when his mom started getting a little tired of the work. Diana retired and started traveling while you and Spencer started making the land your home. 

Spencer kept up with the farm and greenhouse, hiring extra farmhands when harvest came along and you implemented some new energy equipment that would cut down on power costs in the long run.

“What did you get up to today, sweets?” He asked, returning your kiss on the cheek with a tender peck at your temple.

You reach up with your hands, abandoning the dinner prep, and hold onto his arms that drape around your shoulders. You both start swaying to non-existent music, just drifting back and forth together, relishing in the closeness of your bodies. 

“Well,” You start to think, “I finished a few proposal costs and went through some freelance work.”

Renewable energy was really taking off, even in the smaller town that you both now reside in. Other farms as well as other businesses have consulted you for evaluations, plus you did accept freelance work from the city nearby.

“I finished the final coat of paint for the guest room and I’ll need your help moving the new bed in there this weekend before your mom comes to visit. We should also decide what we want to do with the old study.”

You felt Spencer nod at your neck. “That sounds good.” He says.

He pulls away slightly, “We can move in the bed tonight after dinner and we should wait on the study until Mom comes to town. She won’t want to sit and do nothing and I don’t need her out in the field with me.”

You giggle, “You mean you don’t want Diana to scold you when you step on a tomato on the ground?”

He groans from your neck, “It was only that one time!” He shakes his head, but you can hear a smile on his face, “I swear, she watches me like a hawk watches it’s prey.” He grumbles.

“Too many farmers in the field?” You ask jokingly. 

“Yes.” Spencer responds, gruffly. 

“Well,” You start to say, “Diana would agree.” You pull away from Spencer and give him the vegetables and a chopping board. You start to move around the kitchen, working on other aspects of dinner.

“She said you weren’t wading through the corn the right way and that it would hurt you and the corn.” You tell.

Spencer looks up at you from chopping up some carrots with a doubtful look on his face, “She only mentioned it hurting the corn, didn’t she?” He asked.

You bite your lip to keep from laughing and nod. 

Diana and Spencer were two peas in a pod. But one thing they could nearly never agree on is the occupation and hobby that they share. They teased and compared and playfully poked fun at each other in the field, but it was Diana who gave Spencer his love of farming in the first place.

She was the one who made it fun for the lanky child in his youth, at first just picking berry bushes, then helping out in the greenhouse, and then again in his teens during harvest season.

You were worried when first meeting Diana that she wouldn’t like you, but you got along quickly with both of your loves of nature and green energy. Plus your shared love of Spencer would always bring you together.

After a few giggles escape you, you turn back to your husband. “Oh!” You say, getting his attention.

“That reminds me, you need to call Jim Harvey back. He wanted to see if we have the harvest this year to expand his existing order.”

“Again?” Spencer asked in amusement, not looking up from the knife in his hand, being careful to chop the vegetables without taking off a part of his finger. 

You nodded, “Yeah, something about expecting more calves this year or something.” You remember.

Spencer scoffs, adding the finished vegetable pieces in a bowl for you. “But he says that-” 

“Every year.” You both finish together. 

You giggle as Spencer chuckles. You gladly take the bowl from him and set it aside, them grabbing his hands and enveloping them around you. You cage yourself in his arms and look up at your husband. 

You bring your hands up to his face, the slight scruff of his chin making you smile fondly. “Why don’t you call him back and take a shower while I finish up dinner.” You say.

You press a kiss to his lips, which are slightly chapped from staying outside in the sun all day.

Spencer smiles and chases your lips for more, “That,” He gives you another peck, “Sounds.” Another peck. “Good.” And another. 

You regrettably untangle yourself from your husband. “Dinner will be ready by the time you’re out of the shower, my love.”

Spencer pulls you into him once again and presses a longer, more passionate kiss on your lips, stealing your breath away. His lips are pinker and a little swollen, you believe yours aren’t too far off either. 

His eyes gleam with his love for you, his smile just the same.

“And maybe dessert?”

a/n: i promise not all of these will be established relationships... so, how are we liking this so far? i just love alternative universe possibilities and imagining spencer in different professions and or walks of life!