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metataxy · 2 years ago

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I share my dreams with ghosts, #4

Summary: The man who calls himself Luthen Rael was a Jedi once. This is how he survives Order 66, and what comes after.

Not posting to AO3 until I figure out where this is going!

Warnings: Language, misogyny and speciesism due to shitty Imperials.

Part 1 here , Part 2, Part 3

Occasionally, the business interests of Luthen Rael (both legitimate and less so) lead him to negotiate with the Hutt Empire or the cartels. Given his reputation for brokering fair deals without bloodshed, he’s become a favourite intermediary for museums and private collectors looking to acquire or ransom valuable pieces from black market sellers. The confidentiality of these arrangements is ideal for trading in other commodities, like weapons, information, refugees.

Today, Quinlan brazened through the front doors of his shop with a new shopping list. The Kiffar has shaved his head and grown a beard, slipped in contacts to hide his Fallen eyes. He’s dressed himself with the poor taste of the nouveau riche, swaggering in badly tailored spidersilk robes and high heels, a string of kybers flashing round his neck. Palpatine had started a fashion trend. Once it was known that those in the Emperor’s favour wore kyber, everyone was wearing kyber. Or at least, what they’d swear on the Force was kyber. Never before had there been such a demand for high-quality imitations. Everyone, from the Moffs’ trophy wives down to the middling rich, seemed to have a Kyber, complete with an improbable biography of the Jedi who’d owned them, and a sufficiently bloody tale of how they’d been executed.

There were two benefits to this: First, no one doubted Rael when he claimed to be out of stock of kyber and unable to find more. All the reputable dealers were out of stock of kyber. And second: Jedi could openly wear kyber among the wealthy without incurring anything more dangerous than envy. Ironically, it was the safest way for Quinlan to move these last remains of their brethren.

But he hasn’t come today to pass these stones into his safekeeping. He has a more valuable and dangerous resource for Rael to acquire.

After they have settled into the backroom, and Quinlan has tested the integrity of Rael’s shields, he lays it out.

“You’ll be going to Hutt Space and buying the indenture of a student along with the items I’ve listed here,” Quin passes the datapad along to him.

Rael scans the inventory and its destinations, including one Kleya Marki, human female, 17, midway through university education, five languages, and blinks. He’s grown accustomed to the traffic of sentients, but they’ve always been routed elsewhere. “Is it wise to move people through the shop?” he asks Quinlan, guessing that this was to become another front of the underground.

Quinlan grins. “Oh, we’re not moving people through the shop. Luthen Rael is acquiring a mistress.”

“A teenager? In this shop?” Rael stares at Quinlan. He remembers all his Master’s lectures on how use of the Dark Side seemed to frequently entail some form of cognitive decline or executive dysfunction.

“Yup,” Quinlan smacks his lips around the syllable. “Teenager makes perfect sense. Luthen Rael is a reformed ephebophile. Alderaani society will love it. Her age makes it a scandal, but the cost of her contract and your willingness to teach her a real trade makes it a charitable act. Besides, you’ll eventually fall in love and marry her—or at least will her your estate. Love story for the ages.”

“And why in the Force would I fucking well do that?” Rael demands, waiting to hear the logic that surely must be behind this request.

Quinlan smiles. “Because Kleya Marki has the magic touch?” he leers and lifts his gloved hands to wiggle his fingers, and Rael is half a moment from slapping him when he understands.

“A psychometric?”

“More sensitive than I am, even. The Educorps archaeologists practically breed them. There’s whole families with the gift. Every time the Council gets—got one of us that couldn’t adjust to the Temple creche, they shipped them out to those families.” Quinlan’s expression turns wistful. “I’ve stayed with them a few times. It was amazing. Brand-new bedding and cutlery for visiting psychometrics. No tasting the memory of yesterday’s meals on caf forks. And I met a guy there,” Quin’s gaze turns dreamy. “I can’t even describe the sex—”

“Please don’t.” Rael considers everything Quin has just said. “The Council’s always wanted more psychometrics. I can’t believe the Educorps held back so many.”

“Correction,” Quin says flatly. “The Council has always wanted functional psychometrics. You realize not every Sensitive is mentally or physically suited to be a Knight, right?” he asks rhetorically. “Psychometry is one of those things with a higher risk of crazy. They prefer to raise their own kids. Every so often, one got called to the Knighthood and came to Temple as an Initiate, but mostly? They stuck to themselves.”

“So how did one get in Hutt Space?”

“Bunch of them were already collaborating with Hutt personnel on a dig. When they heard Kenobi’s warning and the bounties started airing, they brokered terms with the Hutts. Hutt Empire owns their service and any wealth accruing from that service for twenty years, with the optional extension on fulfillment of those terms. During that time, the indenture cannot bought or traded except by willing agreement of both parties, and any children born to a Jedi parent during that time stay with the parents and enjoy the same protections and freedoms.”

“And the Hutts hate Palpatine.”

“And the Hutts hate Palpatine,” Quinlan agreed. “Thank the Force he’s such a xenophobic tool. Most of them are worried His Wrinkles will declare war on Hutt Space, and that he might have enough firepower to win it. And all of them know exactly how useful even untrained Sensitives are for predicting the stock market and running a gambling den. My contacts tell me their Council drooled when the proposal was made.” He made a disgusted face. “They keep sending slave girls to try to seduce them. They’re hoping we’ll ‘accept their assistance in repopulating’.”

He’s heard worse. The memory of the creche rises up in him: the peace of it, the smell of talcum powder and baby shampoo, the thrum of a dozen small minds soft with sleep. If Palpatine would hurry up and die, he’d happily offer his own assistance to refilling the cradles Skywalker had emptied.

“Why this Kleya Marki?”

Quinlan shrugged. “She’s functional, or close enough to it that you couldn’t tell otherwise. Smart. Her gift’s powerful but not disabling.”

“And she never volunteered for the front?” In the last months of the war, they’d been promoting the younger, abler Corpsmen as Commanders.

Quinlan snorted. “C’mon. You’ve met Jedi who weren’t raised on Coruscant. Not everyone agreed with the wars. In fact, Ms. Marki’s opinion at age 14 was, and I quote, ‘that it was a stupid war fought with slaves and the galaxy better off if the damn Republic just let the Separatists go their own way.’”

In retrospect, the girl had been completely right.

“They did conscript her for the Shadows about a week before Kenobi took out Grievous, but then, well.” Quinlan shrugs. “Anyways, she’s prepared to help now, and you can’t tell me you don’t need the help.”

It had been difficult, trying to run the shop all on his own, and while he’d learnt some ways to compensate for losing the Force, there was no work-around for mind-reading.

“Fine,” he agrees. “But I hope that girl’s ready for what she’s walking into.”

Quinlan grins. “Don’t worry, old man. I briefed her on all your annoying habits.”

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The cost of Kleya Marki’s indenture is staggering, and still, she’s worth every credit.

When he meets her, she’s wearing a close-fitting grey skirt and blazer, with heels. Her dark hair is bound up. The professional attire does nothing to detract from the interest of the Hutt accompanying her. The great slug accompanying her eyes her with almost as much longing as the cases of credits Rael’s carried with him. He almost seems regretful when Rael finally names a price he can’t refuse for her contract.

Rael hasn’t interacted with many psychometrics, but still, Kleya is not what he expects. Quinlan wears gloves when possible to minimize the risk of touching someone’s memories. Kleya doesn’t. Her hands are always bare. She touches the controls of his ship, door handles, light switches, as casually as he does. She ignores his growing tension as she picks up his whiskey and pours him a glass, or his alarm as she borrows his well-used holopad to search their business inventory.

Finally, he offers to get her gloves.

“No thanks.” She doesn’t even lift her eyes from her readings on pre-lightspeed Core civilizations to acknowledge him.

He’s not sure how to respond. In the past month, she hasn’t mentioned anything about his memories, so a conversation about privacy and boundaries seems unnecessary. “If there’s anything you need for your psychometry,” he begins awkwardly, “in case it distracts you, let me know.”

She does lift her head now, expression baffled. “Okay?”

That is the end of it. Later Quinlan clarifies it for him.

“Do you need noise-cancelling headphones because you can hear?” the Kiffar asks rhetorically, sipping his wine from their private booth at the operahouse.

“No,” Rael responds automatically, “but you’re wearing the metaphorical equivalent right now.”

“Heh. Yeah,” Quinlan pauses for the soprano to finish a technically difficult section, then continues. “Again. Different bloodline, different abilities and tolerances. And I wasn’t raised with a dozen psychometrics.” He considers. “Some advice: if you want your privacy, you really should stop leaving your cognitive residue all over the house. Psychometrics don’t drop memories like that unless they want someone to read them. I mean, she knows you’re not psychometric, but it’s still—”

“—the equivalent of hearing someone babble random nonsense in the background?” Rael guesses.

Quinlan grins. “I was thinking more like living with a puppy that can’t be toilet-trained.”

Ouch.

Quinlan shrugs. “Meditate some more. Work on suppressing your emotional reactions. It’ll help with your shields in general, but it’ll also give her a ‘cleaner’ living space.”

Perhaps it is only an effect of her becoming more comfortable with her new environment, but in the following months, as he becomes more careful to modulate his feelings in the common rooms, she seems to become more relaxed.

For appearances’ sake, he sets her up in a room adjoining his on Coruscant and instructs the servants to begin cleaning out and refurbishing the suite across from his in Rael House. His ‘mother’ learns of it. She still has enough presence of mind to interrogate him on the subject. He has to say enough to worry her: no, he’s not getting married, yes, it’s an offworld girl he met through his ‘business’. He hates to cause her anxiety like this, but a few luncheons later, Menica Rael’s complaints confirm the rumour that her son is falling back into old habits. No one is surprised.

And yet, after meeting Ms. Marki, no one treats her with less than respect, despite her age.

Kleya Marki behaves with the self-assurance and maturity of a woman twice her age. Sly Moore enters the shop once, ostensibly lured by the promise of a Jedi artifact (real, this time, a dry doorstopper of a treatise that would do no worse in Palpatine’s collection than it had in the back of Rael’s closet). Kleya greets him, gets him refreshments.

He tries to grope her ass.

She twists his wrist the wrong way and smiles coolly.

“We are grateful for your business, Master Moore, but please refamiliarize yourself with our store policies,” she tells him, no-nonsense. “Do not touch wares on display.”

She releases his wrist a moment later and segues into a description of their latest imports. Moore, apparently shocked that an underling would dare rebuff him, sits mutely through her explanation and then complains to Rael. Rael stares back, unimpressed, until finally Moore seems to get the hint.

“You aren’t actually going to let her get away with that behaviour?”

Rael contemplates how he would kill this man. “Why not?” he asks idly and offers Moore a cigar. It’s the only acceptable way for a man of his stature to score a nicotine hit.

“You told me once that you’d never tolerate any uppity whores—” and Rael tunes out the vulgarity that follows. It ends with some lewd references to his cousin’s previous generosity regarding the time and affections of the ‘women’ he’d dated, and a piteous, “What ever happened to share and share alike?”

Rael puffs his cigar, contemplative, and breathes out the smoke. A shoot-out had been too clean a death for the man whose life he inhabits. “Fact is, Sly, I’m getting old.”

“Noooo,” Moore protests with faux sincerity.

“I am,” he insists. “I nearly died. Puts things into perspective,” Rael puffed, pleased with himself. His ‘near-death experience’ is such a helpful excuse for Luthen Rael’s change of heart. “I could buy whores ‘til I drop dead, but they don’t stick around to hold your hand in the hospital. And I need someone smart and reliable enough to handle the business if I’m ever incapacitated again.”

Sly looks skeptical, then seems to work it out in his mind. “Ohhh. Oh, ho, ho. Damn. So this bitch toughs it out with you, learns your business, and in return, you get exclusive pussy for life.”

“I’ll thank you not to talk that way about my business associate,” Rael tells him seriously.

Sly’s assessment wasn’t unlikely. You could buy anything in the flesh trade, and while contracts of that nature weren’t common, they weren’t uncommon either. Traders wouldn’t waste time or money to educate slaveborn stock, but equally, they wouldn’t waste money by selling talented or educated slaves for manual labour.

“Damn, okay. You going to what, marry her, get a half dozen Rael babies—”

“She’s fourteen,” Rael lies. “I’m going to enjoy my time with her, and then maybe in four or five years I’ll think about the rest.”

Coming from the lips of supposed flesh trafficker and confirmed ephebophile Luthen Rael, this is as good as a declaration of marriage. Sly Moore passes the word around that Rael’s gone straight. Kleya begins to receive nothing worse than disapproving looks from the matrons and sly innuendos from the odd being attracted to her.

And as the months pass, and Rael’s courtesies towards her show no signs of waning, his more conservative clientele begin to assess her with interest. Her polite answers to their seemingly casual questions are perfect. Yes, she is currently in school, Master Rael was generous enough to pay her tuition for an advanced degree in antiquity and ancient languages at the University of Coruscant. No, she does not believe she is nobility. She was slaveborn. The Hutts sometimes offer indenture for particularly skilled and intelligent slaves, if they think it will increase their productivity during the term of their service. No, she is not married, she tells an enquiring man, without the coquettish laughter most girls her age (and Kenobi) would add after such a confession. Her business with Master Rael keeps her much too occupied for other pursuits.

All these answers, with their ambiguities, tally up favourably for her in the public mind. She is a serious and brilliant young woman with ambitions of her own. The upper class of Coruscant cannot imagine a slaveborn girl to be able to converse with them on their level, and their collective biases fabricate limitless possibilities for her origins. Every awful party Rael attends, some drunken noble asks him if she doesn’t look a bit like that noble, whose second cousin once removed was killed by pirates, and what if those pirates actually sold that cousin into slavery and used him as breeding stock?

And at every party, Rael begins to use his meditative discipline less and less to suppress his disgust at the Emperor’s lapdogs, and more and more not to laugh at their stupidity. He nods gravely and suggests yes, Kleya does look a good deal like that person, and he actually enquires after possible connections on her behalf—because that is exactly what a nobleman jealous of his stature does, when trying to establish the legitimacy of a mistress he’s half-eyeing to wed.

As it turns out, Kleya doesn’t need any real similarity to the nobility to acquire connections, familial or otherwise. When she attends galas with Rael, she presents herself fresh-faced in modest dresses. The experienced invitees of these events can recognize professional escorts conversing playfully at the sides of their wealthy patrons, and lower-level bawds laughing too loudly over their champagne.

Kleya is neither.

Kleya has all the shy composure of a Chandrilan girl of the nobility approaching womanhood. In fact, more than one person mistakes her for it. She turns down from a Chandrilan boy, explaining she’s here tonight with someone already.

“Who?” he asks brazenly. “He can’t be more attractive than I am,” and he winks at her. Kleya does not blush, and her expression does not waver.

“In all the aspects significant to me, he is,” she says, and glances sideways at Rael. The boy takes a moment to get it. He must have mistaken Rael for Kleya’s father. He looks shocked, and a little affronted on Kleya’s behalf.

Rael likes him. He feels nauseous at the role he is playing.

The boy bows again to Kleya, then nods tersely to Rael. “Miss, Master Rael. An excellent evening.” He excuses himself with this rote response, but later, Rael sees him holding a whispered conference with some elderly ladies. The next person to ask Kleya’s company is a tall blonde girl of the Keto family. Of course, Luthen Rael, perverse as he is, can hardly deny the opportunity to watch his <i>assistant</i> amuse herself in the arms of another lovely young thing.

Serra Keto sweeps Kleya off to the matrons, who interrogate her with more genuine concern than any of the errant socialites who’d visited their shop. She reassures them that Master Rael is treating her perfectly well. They concur she must be too ashamed to discuss her circumstances, the poor dear, and dedicate themselves to ensuring she knows she can leave the situation at any time. In the following months, she receives more invitations than she can accept to luncheons, art openings, charity exhibitions. An elderly duchess—‘once a celebrated courtesan herself!’—plies her with unasked for advice on how to best manage her situation. A half dozen requests to purchase Kleya’s contract arrive from concerned parties. If Rael had purchased Kleya as an investment, he could have sold her indenture at a profit twenty times the initial cost.

The matrons are vocal in their dissatisfaction that Rael won’t sell, “Not,” in his words, “for any price.” Public opinion shifts, and polite society comes to agree with its crasser counterpart that yes, Luthen Rael is actually besotted with his assistant.

Rael’s mother learns of it and begins insisting that Kleya spend time with her. The insistence isn’t necessary. Kleya likes his mother.

She never says as much, but he can tell by how the girl always seems to be in the same room as her when they visit the House on Alderaan. How Kleya anticipates when she will be cold, gathering up shawls and warm socks for the old lady before Menica thinks to ask the servants. She rubs the old woman’s swollen feet for her and brings her tea. Come summer, Rael always finds them next to each other on the veranda swing, surrounded and covered by a multitude of tookas.

Rael House is not the Temple, and they are not Jedi, but sometimes, with these people, Rael feels like he has come home.

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The source of much of Kleya’s composure, Rael learns, is her psychometry, supported by minor kleptomania and frequenting consignment shops.

His new assistant has the unique ability to slip on the personalities of other people together with their clothing. It’s a unique form of method acting only someone with her ability could employ. In fact, she confesses, before the wars and the advent of the Empire, she’d imagined a career in live theatre.

The idea of a Jedi working outside the Order surprises and interests Rael almost as much how the girl assembles her wardrobe.

He’d already raised one girl through adolescence, and he hadn’t expected to take any more interest in Kleya’s wardrobe than his late Padawan’s. Of course, Rael reflected, Nim had chosen most of her clothes from the positively dizzying selection of neutrals available for Jedi robes. Everything else had been leftovers from their missions, or gifts from Rael’s own Master.

When Kleya shops, she inevitably runs her fingers along the top of the rack, running through the sense memories of each garment. It is not a process without risk: as well as she controls her expressions, he can see her eyebrow tic when picks up a negative memory, and once, she pulls her hand from a silk tunic with a small stain at the edge as though burnt. When she finds something she likes though, she pulls it off the rack. She rubs the fabric between her fingers, as though luxuriating in the texture, or testing the thread count. She tries everything on for the sake of appearances, but it doesn’t matter if it fits. Any article that feels right, that had belonged to the kind of person Kleya aspires to model, goes to the tailor’s for resizing.

The only time he’s seen her visibly unhappy is when she’s had to put back a visibly used garment. For her purposes, some of the best clothes have been worn until they’re little more than the memory of a garment. But Luthen Rael’s mistress would never buy threadbare clothes, Luthen Rael’s mistress can just barely explain her purchases at consignment shops as another means of procuring eclectic goods unavailable elsewhere. So, mostly, she puts them back, or slips them into her purse in the changeroom, because Kleya Marki is a thief.

It takes Luthen Rael a few months to realize this, because Kleya is careful, and because her skill rivals anything he learnt as a Shadow. He only notices because they spend so much time in each other’s company. They attend a gala: months later, the patterned cloth he’d seen around the neck of a senator’s wife trims the cuffs and hem of her blouse. They visit the home of the Hapan ambassador, who dresses all her husbands in the same robes of bespoke spidersilk. A few weeks later, he finds intimates in the same damning cloth heaped in the laundry. A moff asks if he’d forgotten his knit scarf at their shop, a few weeks later, Kleya has a new pair of socks in the same soft red wool.

Between Kleya’s thefts and her psychometry, selecting a tailor had itself been a nightmare. Not only did they need someone capable of discretion, but someone with the right personality. The wrong tailor could spoil the cloth with their own psychic residue simply in handling it. Kleya used to fit her own clothing, but her not inconsiderable skills were still not on par with the expectations of their social milieu. Garment after garment had been spoiled with traces of frustration and unwanted flashes of the craftsmen’s private lives before they’d found their current tailor, Madam Chamb.

The pacific Mon Cal matron wore gloves for most of the tailoring process to keep her hands from drying and chafing on the cloth. As Imperial bias against non-humans had driven most of her clientele off-world, she’d been ecstatic to receive their patronage. For his part, after Kleya had rejected half the tailors in the district, Rael would have happily compensated her at twice her hourly rate. He settled for telling everyone who asked that his assistant had finally found someone who suited her. Kleya’s reputation for being particular and Madam Chamb’s skill were recommendation enough: soon, even the bigots had to see their tailor. Madam Chamb had been able to expand her shop and hire on her niece and nephew.

And if Kleya occasionally brings in the oddest garments and asks Chamb to transform them into a new piece for her, well. She enjoys the challenge.

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Notes:

(1) Some of concepts around how psychometry informs Quinlan Vos’s preferences has been inspired by Blue_Sunshine’s epic fanfic ‘The Desert Storm’, which I HIGHLY recommend you read. The plot and character dynamics and development are gorgeous and very satisfying. Also: more Quinlan!

(2) Just in general, I love seeing more speculation on how neurodiversity intersects with Force Sensitivity. I mean: we have people with attributes not shared by most of the population, but how does that affect them--especially the ones who aren’t Knights? Blue_Sunshine does a good job of showing neurodiverse/disabled Jedi. Also, GallusRostroMegalus’ flashfic

#Star Wars #Andor #Luthen Rael #Quinlan Vos #Jedi #psychometry #Kleya Marki #neurodiversity

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bestprintbuy · 2 years ago

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samsinghtripler · 2 years ago

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annaphoenix1994 · 1 year ago

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Ch.128 - Dipshits.

Previous Chapter - Masterlist 1; Masterlist 2 - Next Chapter

Kiera discusses her next strategy with Rob; Simon catches Baler falling in with the wrong crowd by playing Cowboy Poker.

“It’s about time you showed up for lunch!” Robert chuckled while he joined her in her office, sitting down at the small table that was close to the window, looking out towards the vague frame of the Tetons in the far distance, only knowing the mountain range due to its shape alone. “I got you a chicken wrap from the café. Hope you weren’t craving anything else.”

“That’s fine, Rob. Thank you.” Kiera shook her head, kindly accepting the fresh chicken Caesar wrap he had brought her as a kind gesture.

As well as a reward for helping him make a fuck ton of money within the last few months.

“So, are you excited to finally be taking full control of this office?”

“Terrified, but it’s how I learn.” She shrugged.

“Well, what’s your first move?”

“For one, I’m going to take down Jenkins. Any fucking way I can,” She scoffed, eagerly curling her index finger under the tab of her can of Dr. Pepper. “You get these land developers like him who find pristine recreational property, build whatever they desire and sell the dream – no major problems arise unless you have cocksuckers like Jenkins who desire to take it further: building hotels and casinos. They all end up leaving because they can’t generate enough cash flow after trying to turn it into New York City.”

“That’s right. You can’t make a big business out of raw land with real estate.” Rob nodded.

“Exactly.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“We set up a fund – a fund that buys land and puts it into a conservation easement which cuts the property tax by 2/3’s by the end of the year. Then we go to the Department of Agriculture and enroll the land in a CRP.”

“What’s a CRP?”

“It’s the federal government paying us not to farm it.”

Rob scoffed, “Now why would the federal government willingly pay its citizens not to do something that brings in revenue? That just doesn’t make sense to me.”

“To control the supply. They won’t have to worry about local farmers – or people like Jenkins – diluting the market. It’s shit, but it’s a benefit for us.”

“What’s the turnaround look like?”

Kiera shrugged, “A government pay per acre, per year depending on land. The last I checked in Wyoming, it’s between $200-$300 an acre. That also goes for Montana, Utah, and Colorado – except Colorado is more stingy with where its money goes.”

“So the government will pay the land off for us in seven years?”

“We’ll pretty much become landlords who are paid not to rent.”

“Hm. Sounds like a pyramid scheme.”

“With the government at the bottom for once, then yeah. Let’s start with a $100,000,000 investment in land, then we funnel the CRP funds into more land purchases and buy probably up to 30,000 acres per year without spending a dime. We make a profit by year two with a net revenue of $45,000,000 per year.”

“The more we buy, the more the number increases?”

“Sound like a good retirement plan for you?”

“Of course it does, but why hasn’t anyone does this before?”

“They can’t afford it, but we can.”

“What’s in it for you, Kiera?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Something is buried within you.”

“I’m just doing my job,” She assured him. “And I’m doing the best I can to protect my father’s ranch and legacy for as long as I can.”

“I understand,” Rob nodded. “We’ll put the land into the hedge fund and use the brokers to buy up the land. Don’t haggle on price, Kiera. You know what to do.”

“Otherwise, you wouldn’t have given me the reins.”

Kiera’s fingers ached with as much as she had been typing on her computer, silently thankful that she had forced herself to upgrade from the slow HP desktop to an iMac, which hit the spot on her aesthetic, finding herself to be slightly more organized than she thought. Impressive, she mused.

Breaking her gaze from her computer, her head throbbed once she broke her focus to look for the source of the vibrations from her phone. Shit, already 5:00? “Hey.”

“What’re you up to, love?” Simon asked softly on the other end of the phone.

“Getting ready to have a meeting with a realtor who’s selling land around the ranch. Going to make an offer on it.”

“Rolling in the bread, yeah?”

She scoffed, “If only it was our money…”

“I’m sure I’d see signs,” He chuckled. “Coming home after?”

“Most definitely. My eyes have been so strained and my head has been hurting since I came in this morning. I ran into our buddy this morning.”

“Who?”

“Jenkins. I stopped at the diner for breakfast because I was craving strawberry banana pancakes and knew Ruby was there. That fucker was there, too. Me and him had a little word.”

“I bet that went well.”

“About like you could imagine. Couldn’t keep my big mouth shut.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” He poked. “So… Cravings, huh?”

She swore she had heard him smile at the thought.

“It’s been a few weeks now… I need to check and see if we have another one on the way,” She giggled. “Guess I have a stop to make on my way home, huh?”

“I’d love to see that. Your daughter has been babbling dada all day and I’ve been on a Cloud 9. If only I can get Jacob to finally talk without saying gibberish.”

“That’s because they’re babies, Simon,” She scoffed playfully. “The realtor’s coming in. This shouldn’t take long. Want me to call you back?”

“You can call me back or I can mute myself, love. I’m just sitting on the couch watching Evie and Jacob sleep.”

“Where’s Baler?”

“Bunkhouse. He and Johnny have been bullying each other about playing poker and Teeter kept instigating it, so that’s what he’s been doing since he’s been home from school.”

“Christ, that boy,” Kiera shook her head, glancing up at the realtor who had walked in, setting his briefcase down next to him in the chair while he sat in front of Kiera’s desk.

“Did I come in at a wrong time?” He asked, his tone nearly irritated at not only the fact that he had to deal with a woman, but being a man of strict order when it came to appointments. When you say to be here at 5:00, I expect you to be ready, not talking on the phone. Fucking women.

Oh, but he had no idea what he was up against…

And she noticed this, making it a point to piss him off even more for her own benefit. “Just mute yourself, Simon.” She advised, also sending him a quick text to inform him that he wanted to hear the rest of the conversation.

“What’ve you got for me, David?” She asked, watching him huff before stacking a file on her desk with the plot of land that he was able to provide for her that was for sale.

“Hope this best suits your needs.” He commented.

She arched her brow as she looked over the file as well as the photos that he had taken for the marketing on his iPad. “How many acres?”

“418. Asking price is $6,000.000. Has a water source, two houses, a separate garage, horse barn, indoor arena that’s air-conditioned and heated. The whole nine yards.”

“How motivated are the sellers?”

David scoffed, “Well, they thought spending the winter here was better than being in South Carolina. You tell me.”

You cocky motherfucker, she scoffed to herself. I’m going to ruin your ego in a few minutes. “Offer $4,000,000. No escrow – cash. One week close.”

“Wouldn’t you want to see it first?”

“Seeing it now.”

“Okay… You didn’t strike me as the type that would just buy something without seeing it.”

“You’d be surprised, buddy,” She retorted. “No negotiations. Offer the four and a week close. Surely they’d be eager to move back east for a mild winter.”

“Care to see one more that might better suit your interest?”

“Why not.”

David nodded, removing another file from his briefcase before setting it on her desk, taking the iPad and opening the other folder for his next proposal. “800 acres that ties into the national forest on the west, view of the Grand Tetons from the back patio, nothing but hunting land. It’s not available, but I know the people—”

“Then why are you showing it to me?”

“You… Wanted to see every large plot in the northwest part of Wyoming?”

“For sale.”

A brief moment of silence fell between the two, making dominant eye contact as if they were challenging each other. “It’s called Wren Acres.”

“Why’s it named after a wren?” She questioned curiously, truly wondering why a plot of land would be called something opposite to what species resided there.

“Who the fuck knows,” David scoffed. “Maybe it’s because they’re from South Carolina?”

“What’s with the wit, David?” Kiera asked softly, her adrenaline pumping as she was eager to make another man mad that she would be questioning his dominance. “Quick math for your commission making you feel eager? Damn, you’re showing us properties that aren’t even for sale. Man, you’re on a roll. Might go home and lay some pipe to the ole’ lady.”

He scoffed in astonishment as well as surprise. It’s kinda hot when a woman thinks she can be more assertive than me… “Wha-?”

“Get out of my office.”

“Kiera, I don’t—”

“Get the fuck out of my office. When you make a proposal, fax it to me so I don’t have to look at you again.”

“Maybe I won’t.”

“You won’t or I will,” She shrugged. “You can lose your commission and I’ll go and lay pipe to your ole lady. Your choice.”

He scoffed, gathering his files and iPad before stuffing them back into his briefcase. “I’d like to see that.”

“I bet you would. Go write up the offer so I don’t have to. When you get your commission I want you to shove it so far up your waxed ass,” She scoffed, glaring at him while she watched him storm out of her office before mumbling, “Fuck, I hate real estate agents.” To Simon once she directed her conversation back at him, hearing him chuckling at her conversation while patiently waiting for it to end, although a part of him hoped it wouldn’t end, he quite thoroughly enjoyed watching Kiera be assertive to people, including him. It’s so bloody sexy when she tells me like it is, he mused to himself. “You remind me every day why I’m glad to be on your good side, love.”

“Did I forget to mute you?”

“Sure did, but I don’t mind. At least I was assured that you didn’t have another man in your office for another type of meeting…” He poked.

“That’s tomorrow,” She scoffed back, her tone nearly assertive, even though sarcasm was a thick underlier. “I’m finishing up and heading home. What do you want for dinner?”

“Remember, it’s Friday. Your mum was going to cook dinner and we go over there.”

“That’s right. I forgot to call her earlier—”

“Don’t stress about it. She called me and I took the kids over there around noon. She asked me to help her hang a few frames around the house that the poor lass couldn’t reach.”

“Awe, look at you being a house-husband.”

“Gotta do something while I’m on time off from work. Feels nice to do nothing with something on occasion.”

“I’m sure, babe. I’m heading to the truck now. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Be safe. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Got a whole hand of ‘em, boys!” Frankie taunted the others, his free hand full of cards while the other clutched a bottle of beer.

“Easy to say when you’re not in it.” Dirk teased from across the table.

“What’s eatin’ you, Baler? I know that’s not your poker face!” Lawson snickered, nudging the teen with his elbow.

“Yeah, you look like you’re about to take a shite!” Johnny laughed, tossing into the blind that sat piled in the middle of the table.

“Maybe I am…” Baler sighed, the corner of his mouth raising into a smirk before tossing the winning draw onto the table, watching the rest of the playing wranglers sigh in defeat.

“You son of a bitch!” Frankie sighed, folding his hand before twining his fingers behind his head while Lawson tossed his ballcap to the floor.

“Is this all we’re gonna do?” Teeter groaned impatiently.

“It’s what we always do?...” Frankie answered, his brows furrowed.

“Is it just one set of nuts y’all share?” She taunted, making Dirk laugh.

“Aside from the ones I’m wearing, I think your lady has the only ones in this room.”

“You’re probably right, mate.” Johnny huffed, his face flushed.

“When I was your age, we were out in the arena playing real poker… Cowboy Poker.”

“Now that sounds fun!” Teeter chimed.

“Wh-What is that?” Johnny asked.

“Oh, it’s real fun, baby. Involves a lot of whiskey and gettin’ a lil dirty!” She mused, leaning down from behind him to kiss his cheek.

“What exactly is it?” Baler asked, his expression just as confused as Johnny’s.

“We’re not playing it, so it doesn’t matter.” Frankie answered abruptly, shaking his head and beginning to shuffle a deck of cards.

“Bock… Bock, bock…” Dirk trailed off, chewing on the end of his cigar.

“That old fart is taunting me!” Baler scoffed. “Let’s do it.”

“Boy, your balls haven’t even dropped yet and you’re wanting to risk not ever growing them!” Lawson sighed.

“And your dad will kill us.” Johnny reminded, arching his brow. “Especially me for letting you do it.”

“Afraid you all will lose? It’s a damn shame mine haven’t even dropped and I have more balls than all of you combined.” Baler shrugged.

“Goddammit,” Frankie sighed. “Let’s go.”

All members of the table stood to their feet, anxious and ready for whatever this so-called game was. Knowing that it was taking place in an arena, it was about to get messier than what Teeter had explained.

“Don’t worry, baby! Ye be alright! I’m gonna stay behind the fence here!” Teeter snickered, clasping her hands over Johnny’s shoulders as she stood behind him once he sat down in the plastic chair, setting an open bottle of whiskey in his lap before her lips rested on his temple. “Drink up. Ye gonna need some liquid courage!”

Johnny nodded, never hesitating before taking a large sip of the liquor before passing it to Frankie, watching him repeat the motion before he passed it to Lawson, watching him take a small swig before passing it to Baler, shocked to see him take a drink just like Simon would as well as never making a sour face after he swallowed.

“Goddamn, kid, you stealin’ whiskey when your dad ain’t home?” Dirk commented, surprised.

“Nah, I just had a rough life before this place, old man,” He retorted. “More liquid courage, Frankie? You look like a puss right now.”

“Fuck you. You sound just like my sister.” He retorted, referring to Kiera as she was his sibling.

“Taught me well, didn’t she?”

“Now, what’s the rules?”

“Last one at the table keeps the pot,” Lawson answered, his form visibly trembling from adrenaline and fear. “Pass me some more of that.”

“Drink up, dipshits,” Dirk laughed. “You’re going to need it.”

“You two are getting horse traded by this old bastard and he isn’t even drinking anything.” Baler taunted.

“This is fucking nuts!” Lawson shouted, desperate to pump himself up to hide his fear.

“Quit crying!” Baler scoffed. “We’re ready!”

“Yeah, there’s not a lot smart about this…” Frankie sighed.

“Here we go, ladies,” Baler continued, taking a final long swig of the burning whiskey before shouting, “Ready!”

Johnny took a deep breath when he heard the gate open, a set of thunderous hooves colliding with the sand while Teeter shouted at the bovine, the radio that was perched on the ground to provide as background music blared Mud by Whiskey Myers as the bull charged into the arena, looking around frantically before setting its sights on the table in the middle of the arena, each player sitting as still as they possibly could as the bull charged closer, bowing its head for its desired impact, Baler sitting on the other end of the table and physically watched the bull charge as if it were charging at just him.

With a sharp thud and the air kicked from his lungs, Baler steadily stood on his feet to flee to the nearest fence, watching as he was the last one in the arena, unaware that the other players had fled with adrenaline after being rammed by the bull, Johnny and Teeter both encouraging Baler to run with adrenaline still coursing through their veins, Dirk’s aching limbs helping the teenager over the top of the fence rail with a laugh while he did his best to dust him off. “That’s some cowboy shit, boy!” He shouted with excitement.

“That’s… That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever done!” He laughed. “But that was fucking awesome!”

“Ye okay baby, no missin’ teeth?! Your pecker still on right? I ain’t need no limp’n!” Teeter questioned Johnny, looking him over while he gasped for air and clutched his ribs.

“I’m fine, bonnie. Bastard hit me right in the ribs.” He groaned.

“Balls of steel!” Frankie laughed, patting Baler on the shoulder as he limped towards the barn, regrouping with the rest of the wranglers as they all gasped for air.

“Are you alright?”

“Fuckin’ peachy.” Baler groaned, wiping the blood from his nose.

“You might need this.” Lawson said, reaching the bottle of leftover whiskey to the teen as he took it eagerly, finishing it off without a second thought, even if Simon had just walked towards the arena to investigate the commotion, the wranglers unaware that the blaring music had caught his attention as it was very rare of the wranglers to throw a “party.”

“He lost his hat, so he owes us a six pack and a new radio.” Frankie teased, the players still unaware of Simon’s deathly gaze as he was storming towards them.

“The fuck I do!” Baler scoffed. “Give me my money!”

“Fine!” He scoffed, slapping the fifty-dollar bill into the teen’s palm, watching with a scowl as he had eagerly fisted it into his back pocket.

“What the fuck are you bastards doing?” Simon shouted.

The wranglers were wide-eyed, looking like a bunch of deer in oncoming headlights, nearly scared out of their wits and suddenly wishing they were caught slacking on the job instead of what they had just done, the worst of it willingly letting a teenager drink whiskey like an old man.

“Uhm… It’s Friday.” Baler answered for them, hoping that the day of the week would at least help him and the wranglers out of this situation.

“I know what bloody day it is, lad!” He shouted. “Why were you in the arena with that bull and why are you bloody?!”

“We were tryin’ to milk him!” Teeter snickered, knowing that Simon wouldn’t be as inclined to scold her in front of Johnny.

Boy, what she wrong.

“Not the fucking time,” He glared, more irritated that his son was battered and bloody – something that always drove under his skin as he always felt he needed to be the one to protect him, even in his wrong decisions. But Simon wouldn’t admit that he was impressed with the kid. You just took a beating by a two-thousand pound bull and still got up. You have some serious guts, kid. “Lad, go to the house and tell your mum what you just did.”

“N-No, I—”

“I’m not going to tell you again.”

Then, the teen did something that truly caught Simon off guard. He scoffed at him.

Simon arched his brow – a warning. “Get the furball out, then go to the house and tell your mum what you just did.”

Baler scoffed again.

“If you *scoffing sound* one more time, I’ll choke you for real.”

The rest of the wranglers laughed as Baler limped away in defeat.

“Balls of steel when it comes to a bull, but going home like a kitten when he’s in trouble.” Lawson teased.

“I’d be more afraid of going home if I were him,” Dirk shrugged. “That bull is the least of my worries if it comes down to dealing with Kiera as mad as a wet hen.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I forgot she beat the shit out of Frankie a couple of years ago.” Lawson snickered, nudging Frankie with his elbow before Simon quickly took control of the situation and grasped their coats, knocking them off balance before shoving them back towards the bunkhouse.

“You all get out of here and get yourselves cleaned up. Four a.m. comes early!”

“We never get up at four on Saturday—” Dirk pleaded.

“You all will tomorrow,” He glared. “Maybe you all will learn once you decide to not mess with a bloody rabid bull.”

“Yes, sir.” Dirk nodded, respecting Simon’s leadership as well as understanding his reason for being upset, joining the rest of the wranglers to the bunkhouse, Teeter helping the old man walk as Johnny stayed behind in an attempt to stay on Simon’s good side.

Like a dog who had just been punished.

“You, especially.” He scoffed, arching his brow at Johnny.

“I’m sorry, Simon. It was all just fun—”

“Yeah? How’d that work out for you?”

“Pretty fuckin’ rough,” He breathed a laugh, stuffing his freezing hands into his jacket pockets. “What’re you wanting us to do in the morning?”

“In case you forgot, you said you were coming hunting with me and the boy tomorrow.”

“I’d rather work,” Johnny sighed. “Hunting with you is like a recon mission. After being with Teeter for so long, I don’t know how to keep my mouth shut for longer than an hour.”

“You’ve never been able to keep your mouth shut,” Simon retorted. “Who won?”

“Your kid. Little bastard never moved.” Johnny huffed, relieved once he saw a prideful smile spread across Simon’s face at his answer.

“Is that right?”

“The kid is a walking stick of dynamite. He’s a perfect mix of you and Kiera and he isn’t even blood-related to you. Makes me wonder how your actual kids will turn out.” He poked.

“I can assure you, if my daughter grows up with Kiera’s attitude and my stubbornness and I catch her out here playing this stupid game like you all were playing tonight, every one of you would be dead and she’d be locked up in the house until she was an adult.”

“Don’t lie, you wouldn’t even let her out of the house when she was an adult!”

“You’re probably right.”

#simonghostriley #simonriley #simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty #callofduty #simon riley x oc #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost riley #simon riley x og female

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nityarawal · 1 year ago

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To My Maui Auntie:

Aloha! Hope you're doing OK. So sorry to hear your bfs family homes burned in Lahaina.

Lmk if there's anything I can do to help. I write.

I misplaced your # because I forgot how to spell your name. I'm going to try to get Mikael out of prison. We need to Undo violations of local government there if possible. Tragic its become such a police state- so easy to sell loved ones to military crime for land- like this Arson and his false arrests- my divorce- Gag order for murders on beach homes. Will they get away with it?

I can't imagine any of Danya's family would be guilty of such an awful thing! Can you?

I felt Mikael was framed for our Pharisien-Danya paradise.

Take a stand if you can and visit him. Let me know what you think when you do.

Still trying to get my babies on a an appeal tomorrow.

Pray for us.

How is Heather & Durien divine?(:

My gf Geena- is a divine Malaysian cook & her son- an art tech genius from our academy - they would like to move there with me if you hear of any compassion living for families in meantime.

I'm a realtor of 23 years- and a civil rights journalist- if your family needs any help rallying for support through sharing truth of their story- I'd be happy to help and Guardian is also interested f/ UK- not a tabloid TG. I do believe reperations are in order at large in my Aloha States from Heartland to California & Mother Maui- and for all moms/kids impacted by in house domestic terrorism.

Danya wouldnt want her son tortured for her gifts.

Probate laws are being grossly violated by real estate brokers there. I turned in as many as possible. Please keep grievances coming!

Can you believe my bros prostitute at coldwell banker managed to list me as a probate and nearly murdered me like Sinead O' Connor & Britney Spears rather than give me my estate? They said they want me to see another Dr. - after 1000's. I have cyst in brain & lymes from militia germ warfare.

It's Dr. code for murder.

Anyways- you were in my heart and prayers daily. I hear you're close to fires w/ Daughter?

Is Oprah's palace OK?

My bro still hasn't written to let me know he survived fire- or if kids were there- still exposed to harm.

Bff sent his FB post because I've been worried sick- seems like more gaslighting from Facebook crimes of court. Heart wrenching estrangement still with kids. They were kidnapped after they had me beat up in 2017. Negotiating appeal tomorrow and my legal team of thousands keeps ghosting me. Praying Oprah comes through for Britney & I. Shocked she wanted to lowball Hawaiʻi- probably fake news from her conservator creeps that got Dr. Oz.

I'd be ever so grateful if all those angry Hawaiian moms would call my Courthouse and let my judge know none of us are probates just so we're crystal clear. I'm not dead. Are you? Just checking!

I hope Marina Bathem's Coldwell Banker Brokers aren't terrorising them still? I saw Maui Mammas videos complaining about gross realtors and energy weapon fires they started with defense team.

Tragic.

Waiting on 800 body bags to be filled by thugs.):

Prayers & love to you & Maui Mammas - Island of our hearts.

Always-

Mahalo,

Nitya4Eternity

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avrahamglattman · 2 years ago

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How Virtual Tours and Online Listings are Changing the Real Estate Industry

How Virtual Tours and Online Listings are Changing the Real Estate Industry http://avrahamglattmannewyork.com/how-virtual-tours-and-online-listings-are-changing-the-real-estate-industry/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=how-virtual-tours-and-online-listings-are-changing-the-real-estate-industry The real estate industry has significantly transformed in recent years, thanks to the rise of virtual tours and online listings. With the help of technology, prospective buyers and renters can now view properties from the comfort of their homes without visiting each property physically. This has led to significant changes in how real estate agents and brokers conduct business, making buying or renting a property much more efficient and convenient. Here’s how virtual tours and online listings are changing the real estate industry. More Convenience One of the most significant advantages of virtual tours and online listings is allowing potential buyers and renters to view properties conveniently. Gone are the days of scheduling multiple in-person visits to different properties, which can be time-consuming and frustrating. With virtual tours, buyers and renters can view properties anytime, anywhere, using their computer or mobile device. This has made finding a property much more efficient and allowed buyers and renters to narrow their choices more quickly. Access to Information Another advantage of virtual tours and online listings is that they provide more information about each property than ever. In addition to photos and descriptions, virtual tours allow buyers and renters to view every room of a property as if they were physically there. This can be especially helpful for those relocating from out of town, as it lets them gain a greater sense of the property and its layout before deciding whether to visit in person. Online listings also often include detailed information about the property’s features, amenities, and neighborhood, helping buyers and renters make more educated decisions. Marketing New Properties Virtual tours and online listings have also changed how real estate agents and brokers market properties. Instead of relying solely on traditional marketing methods like newspaper ads and open houses, agents and brokers can now reach a much larger audience through online listings and social media. This has made it easier for agents and brokers to connect with potential buyers and renters and has allowed them to showcase properties more dynamically and engagingly. The Downsides to Virtual Tours and Online Listings Of course, there are some potential downsides to virtual tours and online listings. For example, some buyers and renters may need help to get a sense of the scale and layout of a property from a virtual tour, which can make it harder to determine whether the property is a good fit for their needs. Additionally, some parcels may look better in a virtual tour than in person, which can lead to disappointment when buyers or renters finally visit the property in person. Overall, however, the rise of virtual tours and online listings has positively impacted the real estate industry. By making the process of finding and marketing properties more efficient and convenient, these technologies have helped to streamline the buying and renting process for everyone involved. As technology evolves, virtual tours and online listings will become even more advanced, further transforming how we buy and rent properties. The post How Virtual Tours and Online Listings are Changing the Real Estate Industry first appeared on Ray Glattman Real Estate.

#Ray Glattman Real Estate

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thenosyjournal · 2 years ago

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Astrakhan series (Sherlock BBC), by Iwantthatcoat

I'm still very much into Sherlock (BBC) fic. I like how robust the source material is, likely because it's been so heavily adapted over time. I daresay it's an inexhaustible well for creativity. Seems so, anyway. I'm really enjoying Iwantthatcoat's Astrakhan series, in which Sherlock and John are now Shelach and Ivan. The stories are a rich crossing over of Sholom Aleichem, Ashkenazi Jewish customs, and different landscapes. I like this Jewish Sherlock very much. He crackles with intelligence and warmth in a different way from his personality in other fics, but is still recognizably our sleuth. The storytelling interests me, because the style does not hide an author or narrator. We get a bit of both, courtesy of the reveal of a stepping back from the surface of the story to say things like "And now, because I am an omniscient narrator and I can do these things, I’ll tell you what is going on with our small-time real estate broker" in the flow of the story. It's sort of like the conceit in The Princess Bride. The grandpa's narrative voiceover becomes audible as he's telling the story, and he also speaks as himself. As audience members, we perk up and remember that we're experiencing a story and a storyteller telling us a story.

#fanfic #sherlock #sherlock holmes

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skillzme · 2 years ago

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Increase Your Sale by Listing Properties Online‍

As the digital landscape continues to reshape real estate, more and more buyers are turning to technology for their home search. In fact, 66% of all real estate searches are now initiated online rather than through a realtor or browsing print ads.

This statistic indicates that the virtual sphere has become the primary way to reach potential customers – meaning it’s time for brokers to get on board with this trend. Furthermore, connecting your listings with buyers through websites and apps is becoming a necessity in order to keep up with other brokers who already have an online presence.

In fact, 66% of all real estate searches are now initiated online rather than through a realtor or browsing print ads.

If you still aren’t convinced about how beneficial it is to list your properties online, read on for some pros of putting your listings on websites and apps... Increase awareness of your listings Real estate listings that aren’t connected to a virtual database are invisible to the majority of buyers. When information about your properties isn’t accessible online, only those who are actively looking for a new home will know about your listings. If your listings are only visible through printed advertisements or through real estate agents, you’re missing out on a massive portion of customers. Real estate websites and apps, such as Zillow, Trulia, and RealtyHop, have millions of monthly visitors – many of whom are actively searching for a new home or shop but aren’t receiving your listings through other channels. Simply by linking your listings to these platforms, you extend their visibility and make them accessible to millions of potential buyers.Image Credit: Pixabay Help your listing stand out from the crowd There’s no doubt that there’s a lot of competition on real estate websites and apps. With so many potential customers scrolling through listings and viewing homes, how are you going to make yours stand out? As of May 2019, there were 1,336,854 homes for sale in the United States alone. That’s a lot of competition between agents and brokers alike! Even if you manage to reach the right people, how will they know that your listing is the one they want? Using images, descriptions, and virtual tours to highlight the best aspects of your properties, you can help your listings shine through the crowd. And, when your properties are connected to these online databases, you have the chance to change your listing as often as you like, making changes to outdo the competition. Provide a platform for virtual tours and showcases One of the biggest benefits of listing your properties online is the ability to create virtual tours and showcases. Virtual tours are created using panoramic images that allow users to scroll through a 360-degree view of a property from every angle. Rather than writing out a description, virtual tours allow potential buyers to see homes in an interactive way that’s easy to understand. These tours are one of the most effective ways to showcase your properties and are a must-have feature for an effective online listing. Similarly, property showcases allow you to collect images, descriptions, pricing, and other crucial information about your listings in one place. This allows you to easily share information about your listings with potential buyers and gives them a single location to browse all of your current listings. Showcase information about your brokerage A majority of homebuyers are already turning to the internet to search for their next home. Rather than keeping your online presence focused on just your listings, you can also use this to showcase information about your brokerage. With an online presence, you have the opportunity to connect with customers and let them know about your business, services, and team. You can use your online properties to provide information about your team, office location, and contact information so that buyers can easily get in touch with you. You can also use this space to provide information about the services your brokerage offers and any specialties your company focuses on. This allows customers to learn more about your business and find out if you are the right brokerage for them. Image Credit: Pixabay Bottom line: Increasing online presence will increase profits. If you’re still not convinced that increasing your online presence is beneficial, consider this: more than 85% of consumers conduct online research before visiting a property for a purchase or for investment. This indicates that buyers are using the internet to inform their decision-making processes, meaning you have to be online to reach them. Moreover, people are now using the internet as a resource to learn about the real estate process before ever visiting a broker or office. This means that you have to be online to be accessible to these potential customers. If you want to stay ahead of the competition, it’s time to get on board with the real estate trend toward digital marketing. By listing your properties online, you extend your reach to millions of potential customers and showcase your business to the world.“I am an amateur astronomer, a writer, and an artist. I love reading and I believe that learning keeps you alive. I am writing blogs for several websites and I enjoy doing it.” Read the full article

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