#vacant home property management

[rafestates]

Find the Vacant Home Management Services

Vacant home management services are a way for outsider organizations to use their mastery in keeping up with the home’s state of affairs and conciliating the occupants. A few investment property proprietors are benefiting investment property home management the everyday endeavor of the property and managing the questions of the tenants.

More Info: https://rafestates.wordpress.com/2023/01/12/find-the-vacant-home-management-services/

[simptasia]

mum and i were almost not able to buy our house because a real estate lawyer heard us casually say i'm autistic and alarm bells went off in her head, because she believed that meant i wasn't mentally capable of understanding what i was signing up for

[ndispropertyaustralia]

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Kencanons

Warnings: Kidnapping, Abduction, Major Spoilers for The Barbie Movie, Unhinged Post, Possessive Ken, Ken Just Wants to be Loved, Petnames, Ken Being Condescending, Post-Patriarchy Ken, No Pronouns Used for Reader Except 'You'.

Simply put, you’d charmed Ken. Made his non-existent heart flutter and a feeling he always associated with Barbie to overtake him. Been in the wrong place at the right time. Hence, less than a few hours after your meeting with Kenneth, you were in Barbieland. Sorry - Kendom Land.

You’d made the mistake of asking him for the time, in a rush to make it to work. And, with a twinkle in his eye and a seeming newfound sense of purpose, he proclaimed that “You respect me!”

Dazed and with little else you could say, you shrugged. “I mean…I guess…?”

And that was enough for him.

“I must go – get back to Barbieland – spread the news about patriarchy!”

You'd humoured him, more for the promise of your own safety than actual agreement, and he tipped his hat to you, billowing away in the direction of Venice Beach in a haze of his own world.

You managed to dodge him initially, untangling yourself from his vacant stare and making it to work unscathed.

On your way to lunch a few hours after, however, you were accosted again.

Of course, by none other than Ken Carson.

Who, having put all he’d learnt from his books on horses, the Wild West, and patriarchy, literally lassoed you and threw you onto his shoulder.

“We’ve gotta get you back to Barbieland – the Kens are not gonna believe this !”

On your journey back to this mysterious place, Ken explained to you how Barbies usually rule everything while the Kens are left with nothing.

“But, with you at my side, I’m sure we can make it right!”

You genuinely chalked this guy up to be insane, if at most, an escaped patient.

However, as you traversed 2D landscapes, you were more inclined to believe him. That this fabled Babrietopia did in fact exist.

And, once you get there, you become Patriarchy Ken’s personal servant.

He tells you to “Brewski Beer” him, all the while talking about how his initial conception of patriarchy had been that it was “Horses who ran the world, but it’s actually men — and horses are men extenders.”

He calls you his “bride-wife” or “groom-husband”, which, compared to the other Kens’ long-term distance low-commitment casual partners, seems oddly…endearing. Dangerously permanent.

With no idea how to get back to the Real world, you’re stuck with Ken and his entourage of fellow Kens, the Barbies either indoctrinated into their way of thinking or in hiding.

Speaking of, you are basically Ken’s property.

And he treats you as such whenever one of the other Kens tries to accost your service.

His tone is low, eyes sharp. “(Y/N) is my long-term distance low-commitment partner, not yours, Ken.”

And, to show as much, you get to sit on the floor next to Ken as he watches the Godfather with his Kentourage, talking through the whole thing, commenting on its ingenuity and nuance.

He also makes you stay nearby whenever he changes outfits - which is just him changing into another faux mink coat, pants and headband.

Despite being this new, independent, untethered Ken, he asks your opinion on things which seem largely inconsequential. Still, you sense something unstable. Insecurity, perhaps.

"What about...this coat?"

"Isn't that the same as the last one you showed me?"

Ken looks at your glass reflection in the wardrobe doors. His smile glitches, falters. He replaces it.

"Yeah, course - I was just testing you, seein' if you were paying attention."

Whenever you get a moment alone, away from the madness of the Kens, it’s short-lived. For Ken is never far behind, seeming to materialise in the doorway of whatever room of the Dreamhouse you’ve adopted as your refuge.

“What’s wrong, tiny baby?” He says, sauntering over to you, snake-like.

“I want to go home, Ken,” You tell him, voice racked with sobs, tears in your eyes.

He just gives you a narrowed, confused look, adopting an almost incredulous posture as if to say ‘Why?’

“First of all, I don’t like your tone, Doll,”

He steps towards you. You step back.

“Second of all, why in Kendom Land would you wanna leave ?" Another step forward. Another step back. "This is the dream of any patriarch’s partner to be where you are now; it should feel just like home !” Another step forward, another step ba-

Your legs hit the edge of the bed.

It doesn’t matter how hurt - or frightened - you look. Ken doesn’t listen.

“And besides, do you know how many Barbies would kill to be where you are now ? I know Weird Barbie would.” And he smiles – smirks – as if he’s triumphed you in some way only he is aware of, hands on his waist. The image of power.

Ken tends to test his boundaries when it comes to physical affection.

Seeing as he received none with Barbie, he seems to want to try his luck with you.

And yes, this does include him puckering his lips and staying stood in front of you until one of you caves.

Usually, it’s him, causing him to retract and act as if nothing happened. Which it didn’t. 

But when he really wants a kiss, he can persist for hours.

You timed him. Two hours and three minutes until you relented and pecked him.

“Wow,” he says, every time, as if it’s the first time, his eyes clouded with dreams and what you could only pen as whimsy.

He’s incredibly touch-starved. Show him an ounce of willing and he’ll be overjoyed in his own, new, macho way. Though, he does have a hard time containing a squeal whenever you touch skin.

Secretly, he's entranced by how...human you are. how different you feel and talk to the other dolls in his Kendom.

He's developed an obsession interest with your hands, holding them in his, telling you how small and soft your hands are compared to his.

He squeezes them whenever he gets the chance, commenting on how "Squishy" your fingers are, despite you having a skeleton beneath your skin - a concept that blows Ken away every time you explain it to him.

He also adores hugs. Though, he only hugs you/lets you hug him when out of view of other Kens. He needs to protect his image as the stoic leader, after all.

Loves a cuddle; goes stupid crazy for them.

He favours holding you to his chest and resting his chin atop your head. He finds your warmth a foreign comfort. While you find his lack of a heart – and a beat – a discomfort.

“S’nice and warm,” he says, eyes closed, the image of laxity. "Being here with you."

He mumbles that last part. You know not to inquire further. The Kens consider any form of genuine affection to be a weakness.

It’s in your best interest to just let him stay there and talk about whatever it is he’s fascinated himself with, lest you wish to incur a temper tantrum or the cold shoulder.

Aside from being a fan of hand-holding, he's also a partaker in wrist-holding.

If you ever do something to aggravate him, he tends to grip your wrist hard enough to make you wince, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed.

“Something wrong, Babe?” He’ll say, tone deep with simmering wrath.

You know not to push it with Ken.

Despite how platinum and perfect he is, he does harbour a resentment which, whether caused by you or not, he seems to target you with.

Talked to a Ken for too long, or in a way he didn’t like?

He’s going to embarrass you in front of him. Make you seem undesirable to all who are not himself.

He knows he can’t make you disappear, given the fact that you’re mortal. But he knows he can make other Kens disappear; an idea that, the first time it appeared to him, frightened him, made him confront a darker half he’d repressed. But, as time went on, he’s learnt to harness it in ways you’d never have suspected from a Ken.

Not that you’d know it from the way he treats you, but he does actually care for you.

Perhaps…as much as, even more so, than he does — did — for Barbie.

He doesn’t feel like he’s tethered to any one job or image when he’s with you; his identity is not an extension of yours. But, he does try to treat yours as if it is an extension of his.

“Babe, hurry up with those beers — the game’s about to start !”

He knows you’re impervious to the effects of his brainwashing, given that you’re from the Real World, so he feels that you’re the most genuine person in Kendom Land. Hence he tends to treat you with equal harshness and care.

This also often leads to Ken asking you things about your world. Things he doesn’t yet have the answers for.

His favourite pastime is to lay his head on your thighs while you sit against the headboard of his bed, asking you any and all questions that come to mind.

“What’s your favourite colour?”, “Where does the sun go when it’s night time?”, “What did you do at your job?”

Personal ones like that last one often cause you to tense, and Ken can tell. He tends to refrain from asking you such questions now, seeing as any reminder of your life prior to this cause you to, what he has learnt to call it, cry.

Despite how tone-deaf Kenneth can be, he is actually rather intuitive. Or, rather, considerate.

When you’d told him your favourite colour, he’d painted his bedroom walls in it. Albeit a slap-dash job of it, given how interior design is not in his box description like Interior Design Ken, but he tried !

Despite his small acts of kindness being his attempts to imitate comfort, they do little to calm you. For everything he says, does, discussing a future with you in Kendom Land, changing aspects of his world to cater to your preferences, feel as if you are to take up unwilling, permanent residence here.

And, while you wait and plot for a way to escape, you exist as a perpetual puppet for Ken to mither and berate and order around.

In the real world, a doll has started appearing on shelves – a new range of ‘Misery Barbie/Ken’ dominating the toy aisles of every supermarket and toy store, your visage wrapped tightly in every box.

Tears, an outfit demeaning enough to make a grandmother faint, and the unwavering expression of the need for freedom.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterpost Masterlist

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[hello-sweetheart]

Stardew Steddie

A Stardew valley inspired au where Steve, deep in corporate despair, impulsively quits his job to move into a plot of land he inherited from his aunt.

It’s rundown, the cabin on the property is drafty and tiny, he knows nothing about living off the land, but the weight of monotonous corporate life has been removed from his chest.

What feels like the first time in years, he breathes.

Eddie has grown up in the small town for most his life. He feels ‘othered’ as everyone else who has deep rooted connections with the town and community; he stays off to the side never feeling belonging, dreaming of moving to the city.

He plays in a small band that sometimes plays at Benny’s bar with a few friends, a couple from a town over. He lives in the basement of his Uncle’s home occasionally helping him manage his local woodworking business.

And on his free time, he likes hanging around the abandoned farm at the edge of town where it’s quiet, overran by the wildness, and no one can here him take his anger out on the world.

No one told informed him that someone had moved into the vacant land until he’s met faced to face with a peeved yuppie telling him that this is private property.

Who tf is this?

Eddie lives with Wayne, the town carpenter/handyman

Benny runs the Stardrop Saloon

The Ms. Henderson owns the ranch

Ted owns the local grocery store, Karen runs the recreation center (where the fitness club meets)

Chrissy is the teacher/tutor who is from the city as well but settled in Pelican Town to escape her abusive mother. She lives in the sea-side cottage

Jason lives with his grandparents, Evelyn and George, and is studying to be a physical therapist with an athlete’s scholarship

Max lives in a trailer by the river along with her mom who struggles with addiction

Joyce (as Jodi) is single mom who lives next to Nancy and Barb

Robin is an artist who lives in a cabin by the Henderson’s ranch

Hopper is veteran who was held in a Gotoro prison camp and has settled as the local fisherman learning to heal from his trauma.

Luca’s mom is the mayor and his dad is the librarian

Kali is the founder of the Adventurer’s guild, Nancy is a member

Brenner works for Joja corp.

There’s a strange structure hidden in Cindersap Forest and the locals claim that you can often see a glimse a young girl if you travel far enough off the the trail…

[hearts-hunger]

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Back at the haunted house in the off-season, Danny and the boys are working on repairs to the set. You're still a scaredy-cat, and Danny's still your biggest fan. || Sequel to Kitkat

Pairings: Danny x Reader | Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort | Word Count: 6k | Warnings: anxiety, general Halloween spookiness

A/N: Danny and Kitkat are back!! When I first introduced them, I was so humbled and delighted by how much you guys loved them. I hope this sequel does justice to how much love you've lavished on them, and I hope you love it too! ♡

Can you make it through the woods of horror? Enter if you dare!

You smiled to yourself as you passed the signs along the winding country road, watching each slogan become more and more threatening the closer you came to the most highly rated haunted house in your state. They didn’t seem very ominous in the golden light of late afternoon; despite their menacing promises of terror and danger, you found yourself looking forward to reaching the place they advertised. 

Of course, that hadn't been true the first time you came down this road nearly two months ago; that night, you’d already worked yourself into an anxious spin just reading the signs before you’d even stepped foot on the property. Still, it had worked out alright in the end; so well, in fact, that you had willingly made many trips back despite being the biggest scaredy-cat in the world.

Finding a parking spot in the near vacant, grassy lot was easy enough, and you carefully juggled the drink carrier out of the passenger seat and started the walk into the woods. The trees were a wash of vibrant color, fiery reds and oranges and yellows; the sunshine came dappled through the leaves, rays of honey-golden warmth on the path. You took a deep breath of the crisp air as you held the armful of coffees close, thankful for their cosy warmth against your chest as you walked.

After a few minutes of leisurely walking, using the shortcuts that Danny and the guys had shown you, you reached the gate that led to the set and couldn’t manage to open it just by pushing your hip against it. You knew the boys couldn’t be far; you heard strains of their conversation mixed in with the sounds of repair work being done. You got a better grip on the drink carrier, careful of the precarious ones on top, and called to them.

“Honey, I’m home!” you said, making your voice carry. “I have your presents!”

You heard jogging footsteps come up the path, and a second later, Sam rounded the corner. He opened the gate for you and gave you a sweet smile.

“Hey, kitkat,” he said. “Glad you could make it.”

You smiled. “Thanks,” you said. You nodded to the topmost coffee. “Yours is the one on top. Oatmilk, right?” You had the sudden thought that you might have gotten it wrong and felt terrible. “Unless it’s almond milk you usually get and I totally messed it up.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said quickly, taking it from you. “Oatmilk’s perfect, thank you. It’s really nice of you to bring us coffee, kitkat.”

“I figured you could use a little treat after working so hard all day,” you teased.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, sure. Jake and Josh have spent more time writing music than repairing the set, but yeah, we’re working hard all right.”

You laughed as you started to walk with him towards the set the guys were working on. “You don’t think they can multitask?”

Sam grinned. “Have you met them?” He shook his head. “I mean, they’re writing some good stuff, so I guess I can't complain. But we’re also trying to get these sets repaired before Christmas.”

“What does Danny think?”

“Oh, you know Dan. He’s totally in the zone. He’ll have the whole place looking like Buckingham Palace by the end of the day.”

You smiled. “If Buckingham Palace was haunted.”

He laughed. “You’re getting the idea.”

The set was only a short walk from the gate, and when you reached it, you took a moment to look over the swampy pirate shack that looked much less threatening in the daylight than it had every other time you’d seen it. The boys had asked for overtime after the season was officially finished, getting a list of sets and props from the owners that needed repairs or new paint or just a little bit of cleaning. They'd been working their way through the woods for a few days, and when they were finished with the outdoor sets, they’d tackle the crown jewel of the haunted house up on the hill.

You noticed with amusement that Sam had been right about his brothers; they were working, putting a new coat of paint on the “beware of alligators” sign and the accompanying reptilian skull, but they were rather passionately working on the lyrics for a new song while they did. It was probably a good thing that the paint job could be passed off as “artistically sloppy” to fit with the ramshackle aesthetic.

“Here, glimmer twins,” you said, handing them each a cup of coffee. They gave you a pair of matching smiles.

“Aw, thanks, kitkat,” Jake said. He touched up a drip of red paint to make it a little more grisly. “How’s it looking?”

“Scary,” you said cheerfully. “How’s the songwriting?”

Jake laughed. “Good, actually. Too bad Josh isn’t as good at painting as he is at coming up with lyrics.”

Josh pointed an accusing paintbrush at his twin. “I’m terrific at painting, Jacob.”

Jake gave him a dry smile. “Start doing some, and then we can talk.”

“I’ve been painting all morning!” Josh said, gesticulating with the paintbrush again and sending drops of paint flying.

“Hey!” Sam protested. “You’re getting paint everywhere.”

“You could use a little paint on you, Sammy,” Josh teased. “The only reason you’re all pristine is because you’ve been too busy not painting to actually get anything on you.”

“Now, Josh, them’s fightin’ words,” Sam said in an exaggerated Texas twang. He took another paintbrush from the bucket and twirled it like a cowboy would spin his pistol. “This shack ain’t big enough fer the two of us.”

Smiling to yourself, you left the brothers to their playing and painting and bickering, walking around to the other side of the pirate shack to find your boyfriend. You followed the sound of a hammer and found Danny working on the porch, straddling the railing as he reached to put nails in a beam along the underside of the tin roof.

“Hey, Dan,” you called up to him. He didn’t answer, and you noticed he had earbuds in. You came closer and put your hand on his thigh.

He stopped hammering and looked down at you, his face breaking into a handsome smile when he saw you.

“Hi, honey,” he said, surprised and happy. He paused his music and put his earbuds in his pocket. “I didn’t know you were here yet.”

You felt yourself blush a little under the affection in his gaze, the warmth of his smile as he looked at you. Nearly a month after you’d made it official, you still got butterflies from how clearly he loved you and enjoyed your company.

“Here I am,” you said, almost shy. “What were you listening to?”

“Palomino,” he said. “First Aid Kit.” He kept one hand on the railing as he leaned close to kiss your nose. “I’m glad you’re here, kitkat.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you, endeared to how sweet he always was to you. You presented him with your gift. “I brought you some coffee.”

“Aw, thanks honey,” he said. “Can you hold onto it for me until I’m done? I just have a couple more things to hang, and then I can take a break.”

“Can I stay with you while you do?” you asked, not wanting to be a bother while he worked. “I promise I won’t get in your way.”

He chuckled. “Of course you can stay.” He left his work for a moment to brush off the porch’s top step for you. “I’ll only be a few more minutes.”

You sat on the step and sipped your coffee, thankful for the warmth of your sweater as a chilly breeze fanned through the woods. Danny wore a long sleeved black shirt and jeans; you allowed yourself a long, pleasant moment of admiring how he looked in them, big and strong and limber, particularly enjoying the way the hem of his shirt rode up as he reached to hang decorations on the nails. His backwards baseball cap was the finishing touch on his mop of curls, and you liked to watch him focus on his work and look very handsome doing it.

“How’s it been going so far?” you asked.

He didn’t answer right away, and you thought maybe you should save conversation for when he was done. 

“Is it distracting if I talk?”

“No,” he said, making sure the bear trap prop he was hanging was secure before looking over at you. “Sorry, I'm listening. We’ve made good progress today. I think we’ll be able to start on the house when we’re finished here.”

“Really?” you said, a little surprised. “I thought you still had the spider tunnel thing to work on.”

“That’s actually being completely torn down,” he said. He drove a nail in with a few hard whacks of the hammer and looked around for the decoration he was supposed to hang. “Can you hand me that shrunken head?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” You grimaced a little as you picked it out of the prop box. “If they’re tearing it down, what are they putting there instead?”

He took the head from you. “Thanks.” He tied a piece of fishing line to it, pulling it tight with his teeth. “I don't think they know what they’re changing it to yet, so there’s no work to do on it right now. They’re keeping the spider web tunnel, just making it shorter, and putting it between the house and the woods. So I guess we’ll have to do it when we do the house.”

You leaned against his thigh. “What do you think they should put in the spot it used to be? Or are you going to miss it being there?”

He smiled, and there was a little wryness to it that intrigued you. 

“No, I don’t think I’ll miss it,” he said.

“You don’t like it?”

He shrugged. “It’s not my favorite scene. I think they should do an alien abduction thing in that spot.”

“Ooh, like a crop circle or something?” you asked. Though you didn’t like haunted houses, this one was a big part of your life since your boyfriend and three best friends spent a lot of their time there, and you'd kind of gotten into the idea side of things. “It could be like a corn maze with aliens in it.”

“Yeah, and when they snatch you, they take you to their ship to do experiments on you.” Danny wiggled his fingers at you. “Spooky.” 

You laughed and took his hands in yours. “That’d probably get you lots and lots of kitkats, what do you think?” If any guest used the safeword, “kitkat”, the actors would stop scaring them and escort them out safely. That was how you’d met Danny, and the nickname had stuck.

He chuckled and gave you a kiss. “You’re the only kitkat I want. You know that.”

You gave a pleased hum and kissed him back. “Yeah, I do.”

After one more kiss, you let him get back to work, and when he was finished hanging the decorations he came to sit on the porch steps with you. You drank your coffee and talked for a while as the sun sank lower behind the trees; the air grew colder, and you snuggled close to Danny when he put an arm around you and tucked you close to his side.

“We should get dinner later,” he said. “I feel like I haven't seen you a lot this week.”

“Me too,” you said, playing absently with the macrame bracelet on his wrist. “What about pizza and a movie?”

“Sure.” He nuzzled against your cheek. “In my bedroom, not in the living room. I'm not in a sharing mood tonight.”

You smiled. “And what might you be asked to share, exactly?” Danny and the Kiszkas split rent on a big, beautiful old house, and you’d spent a lot of time over there since you all became friends.

“The pizza,” he said, matter-of-fact. “They’re not getting any.”

You laughed and turned your head to let him kiss you properly, and it took about two seconds of that for you to decide you weren’t in a sharing mood either. Jake, Josh, and Sam could fend for themselves as far as dinner was concerned.

Danny reluctantly pulled away after a few more deep kisses, and you protested by closing the distance again.

“Don’t go back to work,” you said, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He gave you a wry smile. “Got to, honey. I want to at least get started on the house before it gets too dark.”

“How much longer?”

He gave you a goofy smooch. “Not long. You’re so sweet to be so patient, kitkat.”

“Fine,” you agreed, mollified by his affectionate tone and touch. “But all these kisses you could be giving me instead of working — I want double when we get back home.”

He smiled, showing crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. “Yes ma'am.”

You put your hands against his cheeks. “Wait one more second, okay?”

He did as you said. You cradled his beloved face, studying the gold the sunshine brought out in his hazel irises.

“You want to know something?” you asked softly.

“Yeah,” he whispered back. “Tell me.”

You smiled. “You give me the honeyglow something awful, Danny.”

He gave a sweet laugh, and you loved the sound of it.

“What does that mean?” he asked. “I make you feel all melty and sweet and golden?”

“Something like that,” you agreed.

He kissed you tenderly. “Well, kitkat, you give me to the honeyglow too. I love you.”

Your sigh was dreamy and happy. “I love you too.”

Content with the promise of many more kisses later, you let him get back to work and helped the guys carry their tools up to the house. They wanted to get in as much work as they could before the sun set, and you didn’t mind, not really; you enjoyed keeping them company, despite the eerie atmosphere of the inside of the haunted house as it got darker outside.

“It’s missing something,” Danny said, standing back to survey the grisly surgery scene he’d just cleaned top to bottom. “What do you think, kitkat?”

Your expression scrunched in distaste, remembering the times you'd been jumpscared from a creepy doctor from behind the table. “It looks plenty scary to me.”

He gave you a fond smile. “Look at it from an artist's perspective,” he said. He pointed to a bare spot on the rack of rusty surgical instruments. “That space needs to be filled in.”

You tried to look at it as he'd said, ignoring the impulse to look away, and you had to admit he was right. “What are you going to put there?”

He shook his head. “I dunno. You want to come to the storage shed with me?”

“It’s my one and only dream,” you said dryly. 

He grinned. “Attagirl. Let’s go find a bloody saw or something.”

You told the boys you were leaving for a minute, but you weren't sure they heard you as they tried to get a huge skeleton to stand up without toppling over every two seconds. Danny led you out of the house and towards the big storage shed full of props, pushing his shoulder against the door to get it to open.

He coughed a little as sawdust rained down from the ceiling. “Add this door to the list of ones that need fixing,” he said. “Good night!”

You followed him inside, feeling a little better when he pulled the chain on the overhead lightbulb. The props stacked high on shelves and hung on the walls were cast in a shadowed light, and you skirted them expertly as you helped Danny look for what he wanted.

“What about this?” he said, holding up a fake blood bag.

“Too small,” you said. “It's a pretty big spot to fill in.”

He tossed the bag back with the rest. “You’re right.” 

You ventured towards the far end of the shed, looking with a critical eye through the props, and found that there was another doorway in the back wall.

“What’s in here?” you asked.

“More stuff,” he said, sifting through a box of sawed-off arms and ice picks. “This shed is actually two units stuck end to end.”

You looked through the doorway and saw something catching the light, shining faintly in the gloom — a gigantic pair of pliers painted to look recently used on some unfortunate soul. 

“Hey, I think I might have found something,” you said. “In the other shed.”

He looked up from his searching. “You want me to go get it?”

“Nope,” you said stoutly. “I’m brave enough.”

He smiled. “Okay, honey. Don’t make yourself uncomfortable. If you get two steps in and ask for me, I won't even make fun of you.”

You snorted a laugh. “My hero.” You knew Danny would be nothing but kind, but surely you could handle a little walk into a dark shed full of creepy props. Right?

Getting inside the other shed turned out to be the least of your problems, since the pliers you wanted were sitting in a box on the top shelf of a very tall storage rack. You thought about asking Danny for help, since he would be able to reach them with ease, but you also wanted to get them yourself and have the bragging rights of retrieving the perfect prop. You stepped up on the bottom shelf and reached up, your fingers just grazing the handle.

“Come on,” you muttered. You stood on tiptoes and stretched out your hand — there! You grabbed the handle and pulled.

Your sense of triumph lasted half a second, because as you pulled the pliers down, the whole box came with it. You stumbled backwards to avoid the falling box, forgetting you were on the shelf and not on the floor, and careened backwards into something solid.

You whirled to see that you’d knocked into a giant Dracula, which was propped against the door you hadn’t noticed coming in. Like the world’s worst domino effect, the Dracula dummy listed to the side and swung against the door as it fell to the ground, bending the doorknob until it hung off-kilter. The door slammed closed with the momentum; the light from the other room was cut off, leaving you in complete darkness.

The effect was immediate. The prop room that had seemed harmlessly unsettling now became truly frightening, and you raced to the door to try and open it.

“Danny!” you called, starting to feel frantic. You tripped over something — Dracula, you guessed, or maybe the box — and searched feverishly for the doorknob.

It turned under your grip, and even though you knew it was Danny, the feeling of something moving without the ability to see it was nauseating.

“Kitkat?” came his voice, muffled through the door. “I’m right here, honey. Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Your eyes welled with tears. “No, but I — I’m scared, Danny. Please get me out.”

“I’m trying, baby. Hold on.”

You heard him turn the doorknob this way and that, but the door still didn't open. Rationally, you knew that the doorknob was probably so bent that it was unusable, but the rational part of your brain wasn’t exactly in charge at the moment. You put your hand on the door and pleaded with him as if he wasn’t doing everything he could to get you out.

“Please hurry, Danny,” you all but sobbed. “Please get me out.”

“I’m trying, but I can’t — ” He swore. “I gotta get this doorknob off, honey. I’m going to get a screwdriver.”

“No! Don’t go.”

“I have to, sweetheart.” You heard his palm thump against the door. “Hey. You’re okay, kitkat. Take a few deep breaths for me, okay?”

You tried to do as he said, but they were choppy and uneven. “Danny,” you said pitifully.

“I know,” he said, and you knew his voice well enough to know he was upset. “Listen to me. I’m going to get you out just as quick as I can. Do you trust me?”

 You nodded miserably, then remembered he couldn't see you. “Y-yes, Danny, I trust you.”

“There’s my brave girl. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” you managed. “Please hurry.”

He didn't answer, and you hoped it was because he’d gone to get the screwdriver and not because he was questioning if he could leave you without sacrificing your sanity. It seemed a near thing at the moment — you wanted to stay put, but something brushed your face in the darkness, and you gave a shrill yelp and fell back against some other prop behind you.

The prop must have been set up with a motion sensor, and a gruesome clown face lit up and cackled at you. Your breath caught on a sob as you pulled back from it, stumbling over the box and the props on the floor. When you finally got your balance, you stood stock still and pressed your hands to your ears to try and block out the shrieking laugh of the clown face that seemed like it would never turn off.

“Kitkat!”

You heaved a sigh of intense relief when you heard his voice. “Danny!”

“Two seconds,” he said, already working on getting the doorknob off. It hit the floor with a metallic clang, but when he tried to open the door, the stupid Dracula mannequin blocked his way.

“There’s something in front of the door,” you said weakly. “Dracula.”

“What is it?” he asked. “Nevermind. Step back from the door, honey.”

You did, careful of the things on the floor you couldn’t see, and listened as Danny put his weight into muscling open the door. Finally, it opened with a wrenching sound that made you jump; you blinked in the light, dazed, still rooted to the spot as tears tracked down your face.

“Kitkat,” Danny said, stepping over Dracula and turning the clown head off, bringing its cackling to an abrupt end. He hovered near you, his hands extended cautiously as if he was afraid to touch you and make it worse. “Are you okay, honey? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, I’m not hurt,” you said in a small voice. Your expression crumpled. “Th-thank you for coming to get me, Danny.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He gathered you in his arms then, holding you close as you grabbed a fistful of his shirt like a lifeline and gave into another round of crying. He ran his hands over your back, slow and gentle.

“I’m sorry you got stuck, baby,” he said, keeping his voice low and soothing. “That scared you pretty bad, huh?”

You nodded and pressed closer to him. He hugged you tight.

“Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t completely dark,” you said, your voice muffled against him. You shuddered at the memory of being locked in total darkness.

“Why didn't you turn on your flashlight?” he asked.

You looked up at him. “What?”

His smile was sympathetic and a little bemused. “The flashlight on your phone. You didn’t turn it on?”

“N-no,” you said, realizing you’d never even thought of it. You’d been so panicky that you hadn’t even used the light you carried with you all the time, and it made you feel stupid on top of everything else.

You hid behind your hands. “Great. I'm an idiot and a total wimp.”

Danny chuckled, and the sound was warm and colored with sympathy.

“My poor baby,” he said. “You just got scared, kitkat. It’s okay.”

“You wouldn't have gotten scared,” you said.

“Aw, well, I don't know. Getting locked in anywhere is kinda scary.” He gently tugged your hands away from your face and kissed the tears from your cheeks. “I’m sorry you got scared, honey.”

You put your arms around his neck. “Thanks for getting me. I’m sorry I’m such a scaredy-cat.”

“You don’t have to apologize, kitkat,” he said, gentle and amused. “I knew you were a scaredy-cat when I met you, and I still liked you just fine. I just wish I could have hulk-smashed the door open for you and rescued you like that.”

You gave a watery laugh, and he smiled and gave you a bear hug.

“There’s that smile I love so much,” he said. “Can I take you out of this creepy shed now?”

“Into the creepy house?” you asked. The sun had almost set, casting long shadows into the shed, and it wouldn’t be long before the house and the woods were completely dark too.

“No,” he said. “I figure you’ve been traumatized enough for one day. I’ll take you home.”

“To your home, right?”

He smiled. “Yeah, to my home. If that’s what you want.”

After another big squeeze, you unwound yourself from him so you could put the props to rights. He found the light, and in the amber glow of the bare bulb, you put the scattered props back in the box as he hefted Dracula into an upright position.

“No wonder this guy is in the very back,” he said, panting a little. “He weighs a freakin’ ton.”

You found the pair of pliers you'd been after and held them behind your back.

“You want to see what all this fuss was about anyway?” you asked.

He raised a brow. “Sure.”

You showed him the pliers, and his mouth tipped up in a crooked smile.

“Those are perfect, kitkat. Too bad you had to go through all that just to get them, though.”

You have a theatrical sigh. “The sacrifices I make for art.”

He laughed and took your hand as he closed up the shed, leading you back out to the dusky woods alive with birdsong and the drifting sound of your friends’ laughter. You followed their voices up to the house, thankful Danny was still holding your hand.

“Hey Dan?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He held the gate open for you. “Sure. Shoot.”

“If you’re not afraid of the dark or clowns or axe murderers or any of this stuff... what are you afraid of?”

He gave you a wry smile. “Not telling.”

You laughed. “But there is something, right? Not something fancy like the inevitability of failure or existential dread, but something normal, right?”

“There is something,” he admitted. “Something you’d probably never think of, because it's kind of stupid.”

“Oh, Danny, no,” you said kindly. “I wouldn't think it’s stupid. I'm scared of everything, so I’m probably scared of whatever it is too.”

He smiled. “Maybe. Tell you what — if you guess it correctly, I’ll tell you.”

“You promise?”

He gave a soft laugh. “Yes, kitkat, I promise.”

You found Sam and the twins working just outside the house, putting up the structure of the spider-web tunnel. They waved you over, telling Danny to get a move on to help them.

“We’re actually gonna head home,” Danny said. He held up the pliers. “I just have to put these in the surgery scene, and then we’re out of here.”

You reluctantly withdrew your hand from his. “I don't think I'll go with you to put those up.”

He smiled and kissed your cheek. “Okay, honey. I’ll be right back.”

You ventured over to where Jake, Josh, and Sam were working, watching as they fit PVC pipes together to make a few feet of tunnel. The trash bags nearby held swaths of cotton webs that went with the dozens of boxes of fake spiders.

You pulled one of the spiders out, studying the painted red eyes and big fangs.

“These aren’t so bad,” you said, kind of proud that you could hold it without flinching.

Josh grinned. “Hey, good for you, kitkat. You’re getting the hang of this haunted house thing.”

“I don't know,” you said with a laugh. You told them what had happened at the shed, and all three of them winced.

“Well, that’s not even the fun kind of scary,” Jake said. “I’m sorry, kitkat.”

“But you found ten-ton Dracula?” Sam asked, skating over the “locked in a dark storage shed” part of the story. “I’ve been wondering where he went.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a fond smile. “Glad I could help.”

The first half of the tunnel’s structure was already finished, and you volunteered to string webbing over it until it looked like a gigantic spider’s nest. When Danny came back from his errand, you told him you wanted to stay for a little while and set it up.

“You sure?” he asked. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you assured him. “Besides, you said you wanted to get a little more work done, and I think we found something I can do without losing my ever-loving mind.”

He smiled. “Okay. If you’re sure.” He glanced at the sinking sun. “I think we have maybe half an hour of light left.”

You all agreed to work for thirty more minutes, and there was a festive and companionable atmosphere as you put up the webs and made it look as spooky as you could. You quizzed Danny on what he was afraid of, guessing everything you were afraid of; the boys joined in the game with silly guesses like “tomato soup” and “a waterslide but instead of water it’s maple syrup”. Danny just laughed and said he wasn’t afraid of any of those things, though a few of them sounded downright unpleasant.

“I give up,” you said dramatically, sitting on an empty plastic tub. “You’re just not afraid of anything.”

“There’s something,” he assured you. “But I’m telling you, you’ll never guess. Especially considering what I do for a living.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’ve got it. You’re afraid of drumsticks, aren’t you?”

He laughed, big and bright and joyful. “No, it’s not that. It doesn’t have to do with music.”

You kept thinking of things to guess as you worked, but you were distracted from your game when Jake started pulling out the spiders to put on the webs. He unearthed a huge fake spider from the box and made it sing “Boris the Spider” in his British accent, earning a round of laughter and cheers for such a good impression of The Who.

You looked over at Danny, intending to ask him what he thought of a slightly drunk-sounding British spider, but you were surprised to see a little uneasiness in his expression. You followed his gaze, trying to see what was making him nervous; the only thing in your vicinity was the spider in Jake’s hand.

“Danny?”

He looked from the spider to you. “Yeah, honey.”

“Are you... afraid of the fake spiders?”

He didn’t answer right away, and you knew you had him. He hadn’t hesitated answering any of the other guesses.

You gave a triumphant laugh. “Ha! I guessed it, didn’t I?”

You could have sworn you saw him blush. You pulled another spider out of the box and carried it over to him, watching his expression become more and more apprehensive the closer it got.

“You promised you would tell me if I got it right,” you said, a teasing lilt to your voice. You held the spider up, just inches from him. “Does this little guy freak you out, Daniel?”

He endured it for a few seconds before he batted it away. “Yes, fine, it freaks me out. You win.”

You laughed, not unkindly, and tossed the spider back in the box before you draped your arms over his shoulders. 

“My poor baby,” you said, mimicking with affection the way he’d soothed you earlier. “I’m sorry I teased you with it. It’s okay if you’re scared of it.”

“I’m not scared, exactly,” he said, looking with distaste at the box overflowing with the plastic critters. “They’re just... creepy. They give me the heebie-jeebies.”

You smiled and gave him a consoling kiss. “My big guy’s one weakness,” you said, entirely amused. “Fake spiders. What about real spiders?”

He shrugged. “They’re fine.”

You laughed. “Of course they are.”

He watched your face, studying the lines and colors of joy he always brought out in it without even trying. His expression warmed, and you loved when you coaxed out a grudging smile.

“It’s dumb, right?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No way. I’m just surprised we found something you’re afraid of that I’m not afraid of.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty remarkable.” He kissed your cheek. “Now that you’ve uncovered my deepest, darkest secret, can we go home and order the deepest, dishiest pizza?”

You laughed. “Sure thing, honey.”

At home, you and Danny didn’t actually have the heart not to share your pizza with the boys; you got enough for everyone and watched a true crime documentary that had you hiding behind your hands during the more grisly parts. 

“Okay, now I have to have a cleanse,” you said afterwards, rinsing off the plates to put them in the dishwasher. “I’m watching New Girl or something.”

Danny came up behind you and snuck a kiss under your jaw. “In my room,” he said, his voice low and meant only for you.

You gave a fluttery little laugh and pulled way when his kisses started to tickle. “Can I watch whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want,” he agreed. He bracketed you in with his arms, kissing along the column of your neck.

You considered that. “Can it be an old movie?”

“You could pick the most awful black and white silent film ever made and I absolutely would not care,” he promised. His hands snuck under the hem of your sweater and skated over your tummy, and despite how quickly you were warming to his touch, you couldn’t give up teasing him just yet.

“Okay, I know what I want to watch,” you said primly.

“Finally,” he said with a contented sigh, pulling you close to him. “What is it?”

You grinned. “The Giant Spider Invasion.”

He hummed in agreement. “Sure, honey, that sounds — ” He pulled back. “Wait, what?”

You couldn’t help but dissolve in giggles, and when his warm laugh joined in with yours, you felt the honeyglow something awful.

“Alright, trouble,” he said, kissing your cheek. “You’re a handful, you know that?”

“But I’m your handful.”

“Yes, kitkat. You’re my handful. You know what else?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

You smiled, feeling all melty and sweet and golden inside. “I love you too.”

gvf taglist:@malany-gvf@spark-my-nature@eearevee@madneedshelp@demonrat444@josh-iamyour-mama@honeyandsweettae@mydarlingdanny@gretavandann@sacredjake@myleftsock@joshskittytickler21@hellowgoodbye@watchingovergvf2@fearfulspirit@mywaysoon@carbondancingthroughtime@caprisunsister@eraofstardustchords@sacredthefran@shesawomaninadream@serendipiti@demonrat444@wildflowerxx-x@tearsofdanny@iluvjoshkiszka@jordie-gvf-admin@demolitionndann@hi-hi-hello11@wildbluesorbit@nessie-glorpa@laneygvf @jazzyfigz@musicspeaks @amythestars @missharvestmoon@readyforthegarden

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[pythonees]

✦┊ LIGHTLESS EYES — johnny slaughter

REQUESTED: “hiiii :D i was wondering if you could do a dom!Johnny x sub! reader where Johnny went to rough and the reader went into a subdrop/subspace because of it??” ~ anon

WARNINGS: 18+, subdrop, choking, rough sex, temporarily mute reader, tcm things, johnny being himself, my writing

A/N: never written (or read) anything like this before so I have no idea if it's any good or not. Kinda based it off my down episodes (aka I forgot to take my meds) and have a severe drop in my mood. Send me a favourite fic of urs that has subdrop in it (preferably with someone I've written for so I enjoy reading it lmao) so I can learn a bit more plzzzzz!

I truly believe that this would only happen if he's serious about you in a wife you up and continue the Slaughter legacy sort of way. Anything less than that and he would be so annoyed by you that he'd simply kill you and move on with his life…

The first time it happens, Johnny barely even notices that anything is wrong. At first.

You're used to him being rough with you, it's his default, the sweet and gentle only used when he's trying to apologize without having to say the words. Or the odd time he's in a good mood, or you've done something to impress him.

Today was a bad day for Johnny, to say the least. They had lured in a new group of people a few days ago, and some of them had managed to escape their restraints. None of them were able to get off the property, thank god, but it was a near thing.

Johnny had come back to his shack pissed off, a few stab wounds that will no doubt turn into scars to join the others that littered his body. He didn't bother dressing them when he had stormed in, dragging you away from cleaning the bathroom and forcing you face down onto the bed.

The brutal pace had you gasping for air around the tight grip he had on your throat, using your body to blow off the steam that killing didn't. Still, nothing new. But it was the way his hand had gripped around your neck, too tight to be pleasurable, vision swimming from the lack of oxygen, that had tears streaming down your face in pain and fear.

His other hand rubs fast and hard at your clit, for his own pleasure of feeling your walls clamp down around him then for you at the moment, and only then does he release his hold on your neck, bracing himself with both hands as he chases his high.

Through the high of your orgasm you're able to breathe again, but it doesn't feel like you're really taking in any air. Your heart feels like a vice in your chest, and despite the wetness of tears soaking the pillow your face is squished into, you make no sound.

Johnny goes about cleaning himself and then you as he usually does, the water bitterly cold but soothing against your abused cunt. You barely make a sound, not even pulling away. You just lay there, breathing choppy and mind blurringly empty.

Johnny chucks the washcloth into the hamper you had made him get (he stole it from someone's house) in an attempt to make the place seem more homely. When he lays beside you, a cold beer already in his hand, he realizes something isn't quite right.

Normally, you're all over him after sex, wrapped around him sleepy and blissed out while he complains about whatever it is that's pissed him off that day. Or the rare time he's gotten himself a good haul from whatever poor suckers get led into the Slaughters trap. Now, you're not even moving.

For a second he thinks you're dead, that's how still you are. But he can see the barely there movement of your back raising and falling with your breaths, and the sudden shock of fear that gripped him vanishes. Then he thinks you've just fallen asleep like that, so he moves the blanket out from under you so that you don't get up in the middle of the night and bitch about how cold you are.

That's when he sees your face, and he freezes. The second you're moved onto your side you start to curl in on yourself, eyes vacant as your breathing continues to come in shaky, short puffs. You don't even acknowledge him as he turns you on your back.

“The hells wrong with you, woman?” Johnnys voice is gruff as he forces your face towards his own, lips pulled back into a snarl as your glassy eyes seem to stare right through him. Your damp face isn't really new, the way he can fuck you into a stupor, but the way you don't respond to him as he jostles you around is.

Your head lolls to the side, and the dim light catches the already forming bruise around your throat. It's concerningly dark in such a short amount of time, the scratchiness in your breathing telling to just how rough he really was with you.

Despite his aggressiveness he's very much aware of how much you can take, always toeing the line off too much to watch you squirm. It's how he likes you best, struggling against his rough treatment despite enjoying it. The fight has his blood pumping and mouth watering.

Johnnys skin feels cold and prickly as he tries to get you to respond, to move or do anything, but you just lay there like a corpse. Panic starts to set in after a few pinches to the more tender areas of your body don't even cause you to flinch. He's pushing up to get out of bed to find Nancy or Sissy or even fuck Dryton to help him, but your hand shoots out to grab onto his arm before he can get one foot off the mattress.

“... Darlin’?” His voice is a bit shaky, and normally he'd be disgusted with himself for showing such emotions, but he's so out of his element he doesn't even notice it.

You aren't able to form any words, tugging on his arm until he comes back into the bed. He's completely lost, staring down at you for any sign at all. You don't do anything besides close your eyes, settling more into your pillow. Your uneven breathing is the only way he knows that you didn't just fall asleep or pass out, but the rest of you is still.

The first touch of his hand on top of your head has the fuzzy tv noise in your brain fading, an absent noise of happiness coming from the back of your throat that's barely even audible. His fingers twitch, accidentally smoothing over your hair and causing you to relax further.

Still lost as to what's actually wrong he lets his hand over your hair, watching as you very slowly but surely start to come back to yourself. When you move to wrap yourself around him like normal, he falls back into the old routine of talking about his day, though he keeps an eye on you to make sure you don't slip back into wherever it was you were moments ago.

After that it's pretty rare for you to fall into another sub drop like that. He's not stupid so he knows he pushes you too far even though he had no idea what was going on after. Any time you do he's also able to soothe you better. He's not very communicative so he probably won't ask you how to help you, so unless you tell him he'll just hold you until you don't look so vacant.

©︎ pythonees — do not, under any circumstance, repost, plagiarize, modify or translate my work.

[wandashousewife]

The Saving Grace (Chapter One)

Pairing — Wanda x Reader

Synopsis — In the town of Westview, Scarlet Witch, Wanda Maximoff, navigates the challenges of her busy life—juggling work as a therapist, parenting her twin boys, and managing daily stress. Her kind neighbor, you, has consistently provided support, offering coffee, desserts, and a sympathetic ear. Today, after an emotionally draining session, Wanda seeks solace and decides to reach out to you for the first time, hoping to share her burdens.

Warnings — angst, depressed wanda, divorce

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

It was a normal day in the small Jersey town, the birds had been chirping their usual spring songs, the sun hadn’t been behind the clouds that passed by, everything seemed perfect. But for Wanda, it was not a normal day, but a rather hectic one. Ever since she moved into this small, rural town, she's been busy. Working as the local therapist, attending charity events, and taking care of her twin boys—Billy and Tommy. And what made matters worse was that Vision, her good for nothing ex-husband, wanted the boys. And no way in hell would she let that happen. They were some of her only joys in the world. 

She had been putting out both metaphorical and physical fires both at work and at home, she found herself often stressed and overworked with the life that she had been trying to build for herself. She was supposed to be the mom that she had always wanted, not the crappy one that usually gets killed in those horror movies. Which is why she was thrilled to discover that she had a neighbor.

Agatha had been bragging about she had managed to sell the vacant property next to Wanda’s to a fresh out of college kid within a day. Maybe this kid could help babysit Billy and Tommy. She trusted her kids, of course. But not that much. Billy, the one she trusted the most, was the more responsible one. Always wanting to make sure that the chores were done before Wanda had returned from her usual errands. And then there was Tommy, she loved Tommy, there was no doubt about that. But when it came to responsibility, he was the troublemaker of the two young boys.

You were that neighbor. You were her saving grace. And ever since you moved in right next door, you've been nothing but kind and understanding towards Wanda. On more than one occasion, you've stopped by her house with a cup of coffee or with a tasty dessert, offering to lend a listening ear or a helping hand. What made it better was that you were always on board for the babysitting the twins. And while Wanda has always been grateful for your support and help, she's never before asked you for anything in return.

But today was different. Today, Wanda was more overwhelmed than usual. She had just gotten out of the most draining session of her life—a young patient whose parents were going through a messy divorce. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. As she made her way home, she found herself wishing that she had someone to talk to. Someone who she could just dump all of her troubles onto.

And then, she suddenly remembered: there was someone. You.

Wanda quickly put away her jagged keys into her purse and not even bothering to head into her house, heading next door to your place instead. The boys could survive a bit longer without her, right? She rang your doorbell, hoping that you were home.

[boreal-sea]

Society needs to do a few things to help unhoused people. Firstly, and obviously, those who want to be housed in houses and apartments should be able to get them. Cities should create and enforce rent reduction policies on landlords who let apartments and homes sit vacant - and if they sit vacant too long, the city takes control of the property. Most Airbnbs have to go. Apartments and homes that are foreclosed or owned by banks need to be given to the city to be used for low income or free housing. House selling agencies like Zillow etc who have unsold properties just sitting around should be forced to lower the prices of those homes until someone buys them, and if they are still vacant after a certain amount of time, they too go to the city to manage. You wanna get angry? Google the number of foreclosed homes in your town or city, then Google the estimated homeless population in your area.

But.

I also think society needs to get easier for people who don't have and don't want a permanent house or apartment?? Cities and towns need to ease restrictions on "tiny homes", trailers, campers, mobile homes, live-in-vans, and things like that. They need to provide safe, dry areas for people who want to camp. They need to provide clean places to bathe and shower and clean your clothes. They need to provide water and electricity and plumbing to these places. Because of how job applications work right now, those camps need to have a real address that the people living there can use.

Oh yeah - and of course, hostile architecture needs to be banned WHILE mandating that public spaces must have a minimum mandatory amount of seating.

[itsbenedict]

From the beginning | Previously | Coin standings | 60/70 | 36/36

Walter wants to go check out what was happening down in that sunken temple, but Adea doesn't want to just leave all this dirt sitting here- and she's just plugged in that coin miner thingy, so they'll need to sit around for a bit to see if it works anyway.

IT PREVENTED ROOK POWER EXTRUSION is OVIOS NETWORK EXPENDITURE REPORT. Apparently, about 14 years ago, the municipal government started deploying some project called the OpenVista I/O Station network. OPENVISTA is, on paper, an independent startup, but apparently it's a shell corporation established so Thinrar could dodge some of his own restrictions on public works. The report details the budget that went into constructing and deploying these things- though it's not clear from the report exactly what they do.

Apparently a construction company called WIREFRAME MOCKUP was hired to simultaneously build a mall named TARGETED ADVERTISING... and force an underground funeral home type facility run by SLEEP MODE to surrender something called the LOTUS VEXOR, in exchange for letting them keep the rights to their land (which they'd been retroactively granted thanks to a surveying loophole). The project took years and went way over budget, despite someone named DEADLOCK DETECTION being sent from Thinrar's office to oversee it personally. But 14 years ago, she apparently managed to get her hands on it- a key component of the OVIOS network, somehow. The cover op, the mall construction, is set to open in a few days.

TIN RUNT CONCOCTS A QUART O' CACTI concerns an AQUATIC CONSTRUCTION CONTRACT, offered by COLLUSION to a well-regarded specialist contractor named REGRESSION TEST. It's mostly an email chain with said contractor, who had a thousand questions about the nature of the work and the equipment she was being paid to install. The emails- sent to her by someone named JUST-IN-TIME COMPILER- are evasive and noncommittal, and seem primarily concerned with getting her to agree to various nondisclosure agreements and security measures.

REGRESSION TEST's job, apparently, is just to demolish the wreckage at the build site, create some waterproof housing with enough space for maintenance staff, and install the provided equipment. That's all she's allowed to know about the HILARITY! BE A FILIAL E-CYGNET.

SPRITZ? REPENT, WRY ED COOLHAXX! is a strange set of files called PROXY WIZARD CONTEXT HELPERS. It's a dossier on... various random people in town. A university researcher with no friends, a family of small-time crooks down by the docks, various guards at this very tower, and a handful of other random citizens with no clear connecting factors. The files describe the details of their lives over a disconcertingly long period of observation, and note things that are missing from those lives. Family members they don't have, friends they've lost contact with, coworkers who quit recently. There's transcripts of interviews with some of these people, but nothing stands out as particularly odd.

There's also profiles on various properties for rent, and some odd shorthand notes that appear to describe how long they've spent vacant and what's wrong with them. And... a bunch of copies of old missing persons cases, with all the names blacked out. And statements from investigations of incidents where... disasters were averted for reasons no one understood, like an out-of-control trolley being diverted onto a track by some good samaritan who never identified themselves.

[ed: Yeah, chew on that one, FF. You'll find out what I'm on about eventually.]

This is all weird, and rings a few bells, but you're not sure what to make of it just yet. In the meantime, Adea collects 10 Coin from the minter- which seems to have really raised the ambient temperature in the room. It's probably fine, though, right? The heat's dissipating into the stone, for the most part.

Adea consults with Walter and formulates a guess. He'd been drawn underground by some mysterious force when he woke up, right? If your daughter ended up here too- and it stands to reason, because you were all right there in the same place when the blast(?) went off- maybe she was pulled down there by the same force! It's possible he just missed her- she could've gotten lost in those underground tunnels somewhere. Best to give it another once-over with an extra pair of eyes.

You head through the ancient pyramid, which... seems to be more extensive, and in better repair than it used to be. When did all this construction happen? Finding a crack in the floor leading down is more difficult than before. Earlier, it hadn't been difficult at all- Walter says some part of him knew which way to go. Did something change?

Neither of you are feeling any supernatural pull downwards anymore. The area below- save for some additional pyramid construction- is almost entirely unchanged. Which... does mean that there is a GIANT SKELETON, still. Several of them. You find a reasonably well-hidden spot to lurk and install the WIFI ACCESS POINT in the REVERT A BANDANA SURGERY SUBTERRANEAN GRAVEYARD. Files include:

Someone took issue with the performance assessment of a robot horse, around, like... thirty years ago? The email is RE: PONY SERVITOR 2076 SCORECARD, and they're not happy.

You've heard of saltwater taffy, but mousewater taffy is considerably harder to manage. Someone's done it, though: ENCODED::: WRANGLED MOUSEWATER TAFFY.

According to the LANCE GLANCE RECRUITER: PI ROTATION IS OUT. He's in charge of recruiting people who've had a close shave with spears, and he prefers to measure lance angles with tau.

An island nation called Haiti, which you've never heard of, is really mad about something- but they don't seem to want to be mad. IRATE HAITI WISHES MELLOW??? Really?

There'd been a lot of development on a faster-than-light utensil, but the product has been getting worse over time. See, a TORTOISE PROVED WARP FORK REGRESSED in this paper.

There's an invitation to the LETTERED CORRECTNESS FOUNDATION, an organization devoted to putting letters in the correct order. Sure would help if these guys weren't hallucinatory!

Continued | 60/70 | 32/32

[whatevergreen]

"Helen Byrne, 94, has called the same San Francisco apartment home for more than eight decades after moving in with her dad and sisters at the age of 12.

She still sleeps in her childhood bedroom, where she now spends most of her time after suffering a fall last year. It’s where she wanted to live out the rest of her life, surrounded by her longtime friends and neighbors, she said.

But Byrne’s life was upended when the four-unit building was purchased back in 2020 by real estate investors operating through an LLC.

Now, she and the building’s other decadeslong tenants are trying to stave off an eviction attempt they never saw coming, and they could potentially be forced out of their homes within weeks.

“It came as a surprise to me, actually a shock to me, that I would have to move from here,” Byrne said. “Where would I go? I’m so used to this place.”

Byrne outlived the rest of her family and lives alone, but her neighbor Cecilia Matias helps take care of her.

“Right now, she is strong because of this building,” Matias said. “This apartment alone makes her feel that she’s home.”

Matias has lived in the building for 40 years herself – the first apartment her family moved into after leaving the Philippines. She and Byrne have grown close over the years, almost like family, they say.

Since the tenants have all lived in the rent-controlled building for decades, their rent is much lower than San Francisco’s sky-high market rates.

It’s also the reason why their new landlords have been trying to get them out of their apartments ever since taking over the building more than three years ago.

NBC Bay Area reviewed emails obtained through the eviction case that Daniel Mytels, the LLC’s manager, sent their lender, showing plans to empty the building from the start, either through buyouts or evictions.

In one 2020 email, Mytels called the building “an almost impossibly good value,” adding that the property “is burdened with four long-term occupants paying a total of just $3,800 or so in total rent per month.” So, he outlined plans to get the tenants out and rent the units out at higher prices. Or, if necessary, sell the building vacant.

Four months after rejecting the buyout offer, the tenants were hit with notices saying the building’s owners were invoking the Ellis Act, a law allowing landlords to evict their tenants if they take the property off the rental market for at least five years. The notices gave them four months to leave, plus a one-year extension allowed under the law because of the tenants’ age.

“His goal here was speculation, pure speculation,” said Steve Collier, managing attorney at the Tenderloin Housing Clinic, a San Francisco nonprofit that fights displacement of low-income residents.

Collier said the tenants don't want to give up fighting, in part because Byrne has nowhere else to go.

“[The Ellis Act] is often used by speculators to empty buildings and then sell them at a greater value because the long-term rent control tenants aren’t in the building,” Collier said."

(edited version of the article)

Landlords are vermin.

[rafestates]

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[beardedmrbean]

What to Know

A 49 -year-old woman could spend up to 15 years in prison after being indicted for allegedly squatting in a vacant Queens home, the local district attorney's office said.

Laurel Bay was indicted Thursday on burglary, criminal trespass, criminal mischief, petit larceny and criminal possession of stolen property, Queens District Attorney Melinda Katz said.

Bay was arrested twice after allegedly being seen coming out of a basement window.

A 49-year-old woman could spend up to 15 years in prison for allegedly squatting in a vacant Queens home, the local district attorney's office said.

Laurel Bay was indicted Thursday on burglary, criminal trespass, criminal mischief, petit larceny and criminal possession of stolen property, Queens District Attorney Melinda Katz said.

She is expected to return to court Nov. 26. If convicted of the top count, Bay could face a maximum sentence of 15 years in prison.

According to Katz, Bay illegally occupied a single-family home in Howard Beach that had been vacant since 2012, although the homeowner was managing the property from out of state.

On July 18, at around 8:40 p.m. an eyewitness saw Bay allegedly move items in and out of the home located on 99th Street. Police were called and they subsequently saw her crawl out of the basement window of the home, the district attorney said, citing the charges. Bay was arrested and issued a ticket for criminal trespass.

However, several days later, on July 21, at around 9:20 a.m., the same eyewitness allegedly saw items moved around inside the home and the basement door open. Police were called once again, and, yet again, Bay was allegedly seen coming out of a basement window. She was arrested again and issued a second ticket for criminal trespass.

Allegedly, the locks on the front and back doors were damaged because Bay allegedly tried to change the locks.

“It is against the law to walk into someone else’s home without permission and claim you have a right to stay – even if a property is vacant" Katz said. "This defendant is accused of illegally trespassing onto someone else’s property and trying to claim the home as her own. Thanks to the vigilance of nearby neighbors, my office was promptly alerted and the defendant has now been indicted on serious charges.”

Attorney information for Bay was not immediately known.

[simshousewindsor]

HOUSE OF THE FALLEN

[Hardy Manor, Newsoms 1:01 PM WST]

Delores Bryant [Private Secretary]: What do you think, Your Majesty?

Rowena, Queen Mother: (hesitant) It's.. It's a lovely property.

Delores [P.S.]: Be honest.

Rowena, Queen Mother: It has enough rooms. It's just... the art... it's going to need a lot of updating!

Delores [P.S.]: Well, the manor has been vacant for about 107 years, ma'am. At such a discount, the Hardy noble family seems eager to sell it.

Rowena, Queen Mother: (somber) I don't understand why I can't just stay at Highpark House. I hate the other vacant royal residences. I wasn't expecting to use all the money George left me to now buy and remodel a home.

(cell phone rings)

Rowena, Queen Mother: (to caller) "Hello?"

??: Your Majesty?

Rowena, Queen Mother: "Yes? Who is this?"

Mother LaKisha [Nun]: "This is Mother LaKisha from Saint LeSun Convent. You gave us your private number for emergencies. It's your mother. She's dying."

Rowena, Queen Mother: (gasps) Oh no! I'm on my way!

- - - - - LATER - - - - -

[Buckingsim Palace, Buckingsimshire 1:39 PM WST]

Alfred Culpepper [Estate Manager]: Good afternoon, Your Majesty.

Rowena, Queen Mother: Hello, Alfred. I'm here to see the Queen.

Alfred [E.M.]: Of course, ma'am.

[Aide #2]: and these are the urgent patronages needing new royal leadership, since your ascension.

[Aide #3]: Many of which, we believe, the Earl and Countess of Boykins would be a great fit for.

Queen Katherine: These are the patronages listed here?

[Aide #3]: Yes, Your Majesty.

Martin Lavelle [Private Secretary]: (whispers) Pardon me, ma'am. The Queen Mother is here to see you. She says it's urgent.

Queen Katherine: (stands) Stay seated! I'd like to see a few of those patronages given to the new Duke and Duchess of Hastings. Take some time to rearrange the list. I'll be right back to discuss.

[All]: Your Majesty.

(Queen Katherine exits)

[The Queen's Library, 1:52 PM WST]

Queen Katherine: (confused) Mom? Is everything okay?

Queen Katherine: What's so urgent you pulled me from a meeting?

Rowena, Queen Mother: Oh, darling! It's granny Niema! She's dying! Mother LaKisha called me while I was out looking at Hardy Manor.

Queen Katherine: Granny Niema! Are you okay? Oh, mommy!

Rowena, Queen Mother: I knew this day would come. I'm happy she was able to tell her story while her memory remained. She's the last of her family, the last of the House of Zulu. I'd like to borrow the helicopter to fly to Forgotten Hollow. Your approval is needed for its use.

Queen Katherine: Never be afraid to ask to use the royal fleets. You are still a Queen.

Rowena, Queen Mother: ...with no place to live.

Queen Katherine: Oh! Royal Lodge. I'm sorry, mommy. Let's talk when you return.

Queen Katherine: (stands) How quickly would you like to leave? Usage approved! I can clear my schedule and go with you, if you'd like.

Rowena, Queen Mother: No, Lady Sonja will go with me. Plus, I know how excited you are about attending Royal Ascot tomorrow. Duty first!

Queen Katherine: I will have the flight plans requested with a departure time of 3 o'clock. I love you, mommy! Give grandma Niema my love.

Rowena, Queen Mother: (somber) Thank you. I love you too.

Previous | Beginning | Next - continue Consort Redemption (story)

Previous | Beginning | Next - continue Heir Ascent (story)

[gentleeclipsey]

I was having a hard time tonight and brain was going crazy, have a bit of writing for Salem as he gathers some food!

----------------------------------------

There was a gentle breeze, a warm one that caressed the trees causing a soft cacophony among the leaves.

The trees here were old, the forest floor thick with life older than the humans that tread, though not much older than the small beast that softly trotted the old deer path beneath the canopy.

With the sky darkened by the thick clouds a soft mist of the calm before the rain blanketed the forest and the darkness allowed Salem to make his way towards the abandoned orchard. With storm grey skin that was peppered with flecks of soft blue and a thick mop of a mane that was a vivid white, he stood out among the greenery, but there was no fear in his stride. He was only as tall as the tallest humans, not built for combat and clad in only a ragged sort of skirt cardying a small bag.

His footprints were abnormal, but soon enough the oncoming rain would wash them down enough the average person wouldn't find them strange, with each step his long tail swayed softly from side to side gently caressing leaves every now and again. Raindrops that slid from the leaves gently struck the gentle troll, he felt an unending sense of ease. Peace. Tranquility. As he neard the edge of the forest, the overgrown farm grounds were a sight for sore eyes.

The house was worn, paint long faded and windows cracked and shattered, overgrown with plants Sal couldn't name. But sitting beyond that, twisted with age but bearing fruit so many years later, various fruit trees, all lined up for ease now staggered with offspring. Some had fallen years before, others simply growing weird and wild while the young ones twisted this way and that. Apples, peaches, all kinds of fruit produced in various seasons, but for Salem he was only interested in one row.

Among the overturned leaves and thick wild branches, bright yellow, orange, and green sour fruit. Sal had learned these were called citrus fruits from a few books he'd found in the home when he'd first discovered the place. He sniffed gently, the scent of humans had been vacant from the property every year and yet again as his nostrils flaired only the scent of petrichor graced his senses. With a gentle hum he crossed the small clearing of long grass and into the shade of the abandoned trees.

It was early, and a few ripened fruits had settled in the grass but Sal had no interest in these. He craned his neck, opening the empty sack he began reaching for the lowest branches. A quick twist of the wrist and the fruit came loose in his palm then was discarded into his bag. Salem took his time with the task, pruning the lowest branches of the orange trees first, then procured lemons and their green sisters, all the while his tail waved softly behind him, stirring the grass. After gathering a small lumpsum the gentle troll chuckled to himself, "A beautiful bounty this year, ladies."* he spoke to the trees themselves, "Thank you for all you do."

As though they'd heard his words, the wind swayed the branches, the wood creaking in appreciation and the leaves shuffling with joy. Hauling the bag over his shoulder the troll purred to them quietly, once again crossing the small clearing and onto the deer path as the rain began to fall.

Sal knew he'd be soaked once he'd manage to return to his isolated home, but the thought did nothing but comfort the lone troll.