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themakersmovement · 5 years ago

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Everyday Carry Kit for the Zombie Apocalypse: A List Don’t be like this lonely, wounded ax-man. Macrovector/Shutterstock.com The zombie uprising is not coming—I promise you. Now that that��s out of the way, c’mon: we’ve all thought about it—nay, yearned for it. For me, at least half the appeal is just thinking about my Z-day everyday carry kit. What’s the value of this miserable anti-fantasy? I don’t have any PhDs that can explain to you why so many folks have fun thinking about a scenario in which everyone they know is dead, and they have to tough it out with disagreeable strangers. My guess is this: our rose-colored apocalypse goggles make a world with zombies but without student debt look mighty pretty. In our complex, bewildering world, things are too big and out of our control for our ape-brains to make proper sense of what is and isn’t important. So we naively dream of life-or-death simplicity. It’s a fantasy because most of us don’t know how hard surviving in nature can be, and the grass is always greener somewhere else. And because lots of people want to mash up zombies. But there is actual value in Z-day preparation thought game—so much so, that even the U.S. Center for Disease Control famously has a blog on zombie apocalypse survival. The reason? People like to think about Z-day survival, and they don’t really like to think about how a hurricane might destroy their home in the near future. So anything that gets people to want to think about disaster survival is going to be a boon for whenever the next major weather event knocks out some infrastructure, and the locals are on their own for days, weeks, or months. Anyway, that’s the justification for this, my list of everyday carry stuff I’d sure wish I had, should the dead ever rise to feed on our salty people bodies. I’m breaking these down into highly empirical categories. Oh, and I’m presuming Romero-style zombies for this scenario—undead, gotta kill the brain, and they don’t sprint like those terrifying rage-virus humans in the 28 Days/Weeks movies. N.B.: This is day-one stuff—enough to get you ready to head out and scavenge for essentials like food and other odds and ends that aren’t in the kit. Depending on where you live or how you think, your list could be well different. Tools and Weapons swordsswords.com These are things you’ll need to either carry in hand or wear, say, on your belt or hanging off your pack. Suffice to say, things like weight, usefulness for a variety of tasks, and profile are important. You’ll be doing a lot of hiking, hiding, and squeezing between things (scavenging and the like). The more uses an item has, the more weight you save. Laminated hickory quarterstaff: There’s lots of online debate out there about the ideal Z-day weapon. Lots of folks pick guns, swords, axes, etc. But guns need ammo, swords need maintenance, and most axes these days aren’t built to be agile enough for self-defense. The quarterstaff is, however, exceptionally lethal. I practice medieval martial arts myself, and quarterstaves are a no-go for sparring. We just don’t have protective gear capable of safely negating a quarterstaff strike to the skull, which means zombies don’t either. As a bonus, you’ve got a six-foot stick that’ll keep you well out of arm’s reach, you can choke up your grip and use it Darth Maul-style for close combat against multiple biters, and when you’re not fighting (i.e., most of the time), it’s your walking stick. This will be critical for when you twist your ankle on a tree root (your real enemy in a survival situation) or need to test your footfalls in a murky, flooded area, or on weak ground. Hickory is the harder, more common wood in North America, but ash was also used traditionally. Survival hatchet/crowbar: I probably wouldn’t use an ax as my go-to defense tool, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing to have as a backup. More importantly, it can be used to get into/out of tight spots. Chop a door down, bust a hole in a flooding attic to escape, and, yeah, bash or cleave zombies that get past your staff—just be wary of getting it stuck in a zombie skull. Sometimes it’s simpler to pry a door open than it is to chop a Jack Nicholson-hole in it, which is why this ax has a crowbar. Plus, it has a hammer to seal things back up (use the built-in nail puller to gather up nails from stuff that doesn’t need nails anymore). Trench knife with bolo blade: This little guy is my sidearm pick, and follows the same “weapon but also tool” philosophy. The blade is indeed a weapon, but also serves for clearing brush (better than a typical trench knife), has some chop to it, so it can be used to fashion tools and camp structures, and is reminiscent of the sort of thing you’d find on a 19th-century military scout. And the brass knuckles on the grip? Well, even zombies can’t bite with a broken jaw. Nice to have the hand protection, too. Wearables Amazon Gore-Tex anything: I don’t know where you live,… https://buff.ly/2OicLXs

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rollzerox · 6 years ago

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Prompt for @fourdragonstrash! Jae-ha, Hak and Zeno have a brothel mission shortly after Yona and Jae-ha’s marriage and she’s jealous/worried ^^ Hope you enjoy!

“… How did Ryokuryuu talk Zeno into this?” the Ouryuu was grumbling as one of the women from the red light was handing him another cup of sake.

“Because Kija-kun didn’t fair too well last time we took him to one of these, so I thought we’d spare him.” Jae-ha chuckled. “Come on Zeno, ever since we found out your age, I’d think you’d want a little company from such lovely ladies? I mean you were married once.”

“Once is enough for Zeno.” Zeno replied with a deadpan serious face. “And Zeno’s age doesn’t stop Green Dragon from pretending he’s the big brother.”

“He’s got you there, Droopy Eyes.” Hak remarked while basically ignoring the woman next to him.

“Oh come on Hak, shouldn’t you at least try to enjoy yourself? You know Yona dear doesn’t mind and you should think about having some company for yourself.” Jae-ha chuckled, wrapping an arm around the lady next to him. “Maybe I can give you a few pointers?”

“And just what would your wife think of you doing that…?” Hak grumbled, taking another drink.

“Oh my, you’re married yet you’re coming here? Did you have a fight with her?” the woman by Jae-ha asked. “We often get men that are abused by their wives here or completely misunderstood by them.”

‘Yeah go ahead and lie your ass out of that one Droopy…’ Hak mentally chuckled. ‘That’s for the one-sided love joke last time we were in a place like this.’

“Now Hak no need to be salty, Yona-chan very well knows I’m here with you two just to be chaperon.” Jae-ha quickly lied, though smirking at the Thunder Beast for that jab. He then turned to the lovely lady next to him. “Oh heavens no, in fact my beautiful wife is actually pregnant with our child right now, but she insisted I show our friends a good time. She trusts me to behave myself.”

“And White Snake offered to rearrange your face if you so much as dare dishonor your vows to the princess.” Hak reminded him as the Hakuryuu was ready to kill Jae-ha the moment he offered to go on this mission, insisting that a married man should not step foot in the brothel.

“That was only because Yona dear was having trouble expressing she was worried, she trusts me but she can’t help her jealous bouts, after all Yoon said she’s prone to mood swings.” The Green Dragon shrugged. “She’s so adorable though when she’s mad at herself for them.”

“Zeno thinks Ryokuryuu is just digging his grave… Slowly.” Zeno commented.

“Come on you two we came here for a reason, didn’t we?” the Green Dragon reminded them.

“Seems here you’re the only one that’s forgotten that as you’re enjoying yourself too much.” Hak grumbled, taking another drink. He had been eying the woman that kept bringing in the sake bottles, figuring she had to be the one with the information he came for. “Excuse me.” He said, getting up and going to talk to her as she left the room.

“Oh my, I guess your loveliness is too much for him.” Jae-ha sighed, snaking an arm around each girl. “While I am sadly spoken for, I can still keep you both company for now, just don’t mind me as now and again I might gush about my beautiful wife waiting for me.”

“It’s actually refreshing to see a married man that’s eager to boast about his spouse, she must be so lucky.” One of the women giggled.

“What about you sir?” the other asked Zeno directly. “I heard him mention you were married before, I take it she passed away? You must miss her a lot.”

Zeno smiled sadly. “Yes, yes, Zeno does.”

“So let it all out for once Zeno, you can take my example and just use this as an excuse to talk about her.” Jae-ha pressed, as the Yellow Dragon hardly ever spoke of his past.

“Zeno could give Ryokuryuu some pointers on marriage in general…” Zeno mumbled slightly, then blinked when he heard a loud crash. “… Oh dear, seems the mister found what we were looking for.”

Jae-ha sighed and rolled his eyes. “I guess the fun is over then, excuse me ladies.” He bowed before getting up and going to assist Hak, who must have found the men they were looking for that had been distributing drugs in this area of the red light, the whole reason they came here in the first place.

“Not a moment too soon, Zeno was worried Ryokuryuu might do something that would merit a punishment from the little miss later.” Zeno chuckled as he hurried to assist them.

“Yona you’re going to wear a trench into the ground if you keep pacing like that.” Yoon said while staring at the fire, stirring his pot as he was getting dinner ready.

The princess stopped in her tracks and frowned. “… I can’t help it. Shouldn’t they be back by now?” she sighed and looked towards town, they couldn’t afford an inn so they were camping out for the night.

“I can go and bring them back if you need, princess!” Kija offered right away. “Jae-ha shouldn’t be going to such a place anyway being a married man!” he huffed, still angry about that.

Yoon just raised his eyebrow at that. “Yona… I thought the whole reason why you were fine with him going was because you trusted your husband? I mean someone had to go with Lightening Beast besides Zeno.”

“I-I do just….” Yona quickly looked away, biting her lip as she tried to think of a response. She then groaned and wrapped her hands around her stomach. “… I just feel uneasy and wish they would have taken me with and not be so stubborn about it.”

“P-princess that place is h-hardly decent for you to go to!” Kija insisted.

“So you can watch your husband cheat on you in front of your face?” Yoon asked with a deadpan expression.

“HE WOULDN’T DARE! A DISGRACEFUL DRAGON THAT DARES GO AGAINST HIS SACRED VOW TO HIS MASTER SHOULD DIE A THOUSAND DEATHS!” Kija growled, his dragon hand expanding in size at the mere thought.

Yona sweatdropped at that. “Kija, calm down… I’m just his wife not his master.” She waved a hand carelessly. “And I promised him before that our marriage wouldn’t interfere with his freedom, so… I-I really shouldn’t make such a big deal out of-“ she then looked towards the village again, she kept jumping at the smallest of sounds, getting her hopes up. “…. I-I mean we only just got married a few weeks ago and all…”

“And already he might be spending the night with another woman, not sure how you’re ok with that Yona.” Yoon shrugged.

“I-I doubt they’d spend the night!” Yona protested, looking a bit angry at the mere thought.

The boy genius shook his head. “If they don’t find those distributors, they might stay for the night meaning they’d be with those women and-“

“DON’T EVEN SUGGEST SUCH THINGS!” Kija was the one to interrupt them. “That does it I’m going there and bringing Jae-ha back right now! The princess clearly needs her mind at ease!” he stood up ready to go, then blinked when Shin-ah tapped him on the shoulder, the Blue Dragon had been silent the whole time petting Ao. “What is it Shin-ah?”

“… They’re coming back… Right now.” The Blue Dragon said. “… Actually Jae-ha’s going ahead of them. I can see him in the sky.”

Kija took a moment to sense the Green Dragon, confirming that. “… He is a bit away from Zeno… And closer.”

“Y-you mean he’s hurrying back here?” Yona lit up at that, then quickly tried to hide it.

“Yona you’re really bad at hiding how badly you’re jealous…” Yoon commented.

“I AM NOT!” Yona protested, stomping her foot and her face beet red. “I told you I’m just worried about them that’s all! Jae-ha’s free to do as he pleases and-“ she was cut off by the loud sound of trees rustling as the Green Dragon came flying down and landed behind her.

“What’s this about freedom and someone worrying about me?” Jae-ha asked with a smug smile as he caught part of Yona’s protest. “Was that you my lovely?”

Yona bit her lip and was going to deny it…. But her hormones got the better of her as she turned around with a glare and immediately snapped at him. “What took you so long?! Where’s Hak and Zeno? Did you find them? You should have taken me along!” she then flushed when she realized how desperate she sounded and immediately tried to sound indifferent. “I-I mean how did the m-mission go?”

Jae-ha felt his mouth twitch as his smile couldn’t grow wider from her little outburst, but he decided to answer her question first before teasing. “Everything went well, Hak taught those brutes a lesson or two about giving such harmful drugs to those lovely ladies and they’re on their way back now. Though Hak could have used to loosen up with a girl during the time he was a killjoy the whole time, and honestly love you know my dragon leg carries me faster back here after all I wanted to rush back to my lovely wife that’s worried about me…” he opened his arms invitingly and leaned in for a kiss… And got met with her palm in his face.

“Husband. Behave in front of everyone.” Yona grumbled, the only time she never stammered calling him that was when she was scolding him. “You shouldn’t have just left Hak and Zeno behind like that, what if there were more waiting as you all left? We should hurry and check on them in case…”

“They’re coming now Yona.” Shin-ah spoke up. “… Someone tried to jump Hak but… They weren’t lucky.”

“Leave it to Hak to handle himself, see dearest I knew he’d be fine.” Jae-ha chuckled, rubbing his nose that she had smacked when she threw her hand at his face to stop him.

“More like they kept you from having fun with the girls, so you hurried back here to be with Yona before they rat you out.” Yoon mumbled.

“I didn’t do anything disrespectful, you know me Yona-chan.” Jae-ha said with a smile. “Besides I told you before I feel lonely without you at my side, just with the little one it was safer for you to stay here.” He attempted to snake an arm around the princess, but she quickly slipped out of it. “Come on love, what must I do to restore my honor as a gentleman? What have I done to betray your trust?”

“Can I make a list, Droopy Eyes?” Hak walked in on their conversation then as he and Zeno arrived.

“Hak just tell me what he did, I’ll make sure he gets a swift punishment!” Kija declared, his dragon hand ready to go. “Making the princess worry is enough of a crime, but he if dared to cheat on her I’ll defend her honor!”

“Oh come on Kija-kun, the whole thing was part of the mission wasn’t it?” Jae-ha chuckled, then sweatdropped when Hak’s hand was twitching on his glaive and Kija looking ready to punch him. “… Guys, that was a joke, can I never win with you two? Tell them the truth Zeno, there’s nothing to be so suspicious about!”

“Zeno just further insists Ryokuryuu keeps on giving Hakuryuu and mister incentives…” Zeno sat by Yoon making a face like he was soooo staying out of it. “Zeno normally would be on Green Dragon’s side but then he dragged Zeno to that place despite his desire not to so Zeno will politely not interfere.”

“ZENO!” Jae-ha groaned as he felt the whole world was against him, then blinked when Shin-ah pat him on the shoulder.

“… I don’t think you’d do anything to… Make Yona sad.” The Seiryuu said. “… You always make her… Smile.”

Jae-ha smiled at that. “Awww thanks Shin-ah, you’re gonna melt big brother’s heart. And you’re right I don’t want to make Yona dear sad so….” He approached Yona again, getting on one knee and taking her hand, placing a kiss where her wedding ring was. “I apologize for any distress I’ve given you my dear sweet, charming, forgiving and adorable wife. You know your loving husband would never leave your side and never dream of betraying your trust. In fact while we were there I couldn’t help but tell those ladies all about you.” He of course was pouring on the charm but since he wasn’t lying it showed in his eyes as they sparkled with admiration for the redhead.

This made Yona’s cheeks heat up and she felt a bit foolish letting her emotions get the better of her, as her mind did clear a bit as she looked away. “… W-well… It’s just we promised to be partners so I wish you’d have just taken me with you so we could just do these kind of things together… I know I promised to never limit your freedom so I really shouldn’t have said anything but…”

Jae-ha chuckled and shook his head. “Say no more Yona love, but partners also trust each other to handle areas of their expertise yes? Besides as if Hak would ever let me forget you’re here waiting for me. You know very well had I done anything to dishonor you, I wouldn’t return with my spine in tact.”

“…. Only your spine…?” Hak mumbled under his breath.

“He sure is laying it on thick…” Yoon sweatdropped, leaning over to Zeno. “Did he really talk about her in a place with those kind of women?”

Zeno chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “That and he tried to get Zeno to speak about wives, so that’s why Zeno said had he not insisted on going Zeno would defend him, but it is better for Ryokuryuu to talk himself out of it, as it calmed down the little miss.”

“Yeah normally she isn’t so prone to jealousy just those pregnancy hormones are kicking in at full power today.” Yoon nodded. “He better watch out for those mood swings.”

“Anyway if you really insist on a punishment Yona my dear I’ll take it, just know my mind and heart are always in the right place.” Jae-ha went on, taking both her hands to hold. “… In your lovely hands.” He then pressed his lips against their joined hands, enjoying the massive blush on the princess’ face.

“N-no it’s fine… Really… I’m just not feeling well today.” Yona replied, blushing at her husband’s display of affection in front of everyone. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“Princess you had every reason to worry with his history.” Kija protested, twisting his mouth. “… But as long as Hak and Zeno can back him up that he didn’t do anything too distasteful.”

“Ehhhh I suppose he’s done worse.” Hak shrugged. “I do have to admit he didn’t deny being married and brought up that you’re expecting…”

Yona felt her face on fire just thinking about that, leaning in to kiss her Green Dragon’s lips briefly. “… I’ll make it up to you tonight…” she whispered.

There was a slight hint of red in Jae-ha’s cheeks just imagining how’d she do that. “My, my… You make me want to skip dinner and head right for dessert Yona-chan.” He purred, lifting her into his arms bridal style before sitting near Yoon and Zeno with his wife seated on his lap. “I don’t think I had quite enough to drink back there, so I think I need to get myself drunk my lovely wife.” He smiled and kissed Yona’s cheeks as she squeaked a protest and quickly poked her finger against his lips.

“I said later, husband.” She scolded with a massive blush. “Not so much in front of everyone.”

“At least allow us to eat first.” Hak remarked. “Your sickening antics were bad enough back at the red light, also White Snake looks like he’s ready to combust if he has to watch it.”

“I AM NOT!” the White Dragon protested in a huff as he took his bowl from Yoon who was passing out the stew he had made. “… As long as the princess is happy and he doesn’t upset her that is what is important.”

“… You guys worry about me too much.” Yona chuckled a bit, shaking her head. “I knew what I was getting into marrying a pervert as Hak put it.” She smiled though as she turned to her husband. “As long as I’m the one he always comes home to and the one in his heart, that’s what matters most. Besides I take some pride in being the only girl to love his leg like I do.”

Yoon raised an eyebrow. “… His leg?”

Zeno tilted his head. “As in the one Ryokuryuu doesn’t like to show often?”

“… Jae-ha’s blushing.” Shin-ah spoke after a moment.

“He must be thinking of something perverted.” Hak shrugged.

“Princess what do you mean by that? As in his dragon leg that you admire it despite him always hiding it?” Kija asked, a bit confused.

Jae-ha coughed once as he looked away, trying to shake off the redness in his cheeks just recalling the things his wife did with his dragon leg to show him how beautiful she saw it. “… That’s a subject you’d best stay away from Kija-kun, unless you really want Yona dear to explode just trying to explain it to you… Unless you’d like to show him with his dragon arm my dear?” he tried to joke at the end.

Steam was practically coming out of Yona’s ears as she quickly shook her head. “…. That’s different because you’re special, husband…”

#akayona #akatsuki no yona #yona of the red dawn #prompt #jaeha #yona #kija #hak #zeno #jaeyona

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ain-t-bovvered · 6 years ago

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Sand between our Toes

re-post

Character: Dean, Sam, Castiel

Pairing: none, BUT....

Warning: ...eeh not really

Genre: just team free will enjoying a summer break.

a/n: This was a request from my wife @waywardbaby since I was bored af. She asked for some of m sassy Reader and exasperated Dean. I was in need of beach and seaside feeling so here it is.

“Come on guys! We live in America for Chri- Heav- ….ugh for Pete’s sake!”

“That’s also inappropriate Y/N “ Castiel tiny amused smile.

“Oh, shut up Cass, you know what I mean. “ you said smiling back, bumping your shoulder to his.

“Y/N... we are tired, and frankly we all could use a shower to get this vampire juice off our clothes, we don’t have time to go to the beach” Dean said throwing you a glance from the driver seat.

“But it’s right there !” you gripped the seat, pointing at the incoming next driveway exit and follow it with your eyes as it passed. You huffed and fell back on your seat, arms crossed. “I don’t even know what’s the point anymore. We rarely get monsters so close to the ocean and in summer too!. Y’all always yapping about ‘sand between our toes’ this and ‘hawaiian shirts on’ that”, you said imitating Dean’s voice, and Sam snickered “ but when the occasion is right there, you just….drive by it “

“She’s not wrong Dean”

“Cass, you too now? “

“Dean….” Sam began “it’s a little deviation ..” he winked at you from the front passenger seat “…and it’s pretty hot, maybe we could just relax and chill for a couple of hours” .

Dean threw a mean glance at his brother before looking at you and Cass through the rear mirror “…Since when do you have them all wrapped around your finger huh?”

You beamed back and wrapped your arms around his neck from behind the seat “Since I saved your asses more than a few times” you said before blowing a puff of air on the back of his neck.

“Alright, alright “ he squirmed, ticklish, gently unwrapping your hands from him “we’ll find somewhere to stop, now sat back a shut up or I’ll turn this car around “ using his Dad voice, you both tried to avoid your smile, looking out the windows.

“Cass have you ever been to the beach?”

“Yes, many eons ago , almost stopped evolution”

“what”

“ok, here’s the rules “ Dean began as you started to skip down the wooden path foot heading to the beach.

“ I haven’t see the sea in two years, sure Dean, I’ll follow your rules . Come on guys we don’t have a lot of sun left!” you shout starting running leaving them to unload some stuff from the car. Once the vegetation ended it opened to a wide tongue of sand and water, you halted yourself. The salty breeze coming from the ocean filled your lungs and danced on your skin and you sighed deeply while they catch up with you.

Once you were all set you looked back at your little beach camp.

You looked like a dysfunctional family at its first beach outing. No sun umbrella, no proper beach towels , no actual beach wear under your hunter’s layers and a cooler filled only with beers and green smoothies.

“Perfect “ you whispered.

“Hey hey heyi! I don’t want sand on Baby, so off with the shoes “ Dean said already cuffing his jeans pointing at his boots and socks pile.

“god you are grumpy !” you said slipping out of yours , throwing them near him, covering him in sand.

“Y/N!”

You were sitting near Sam, under a shelter made of some branches and Cass trench coat, your upper body in the shade, hugging your knees. The sun was still too hot to sunbathing without protection. Dean couldn’t care less and was already passed out.

“He’s going to get sunburned”

“yeah, that’ll teach him “ you snorted and glanced at him “Sam…can you put down that book for once and enjoy the beach?” he was in the shade too, sitting comfortably , and sipping the smoothie you couldn’t finish.

“I’m good Y/N “

“you could at least …I don’t know….shed your t-shirt? I know ….scandalous “

He smiled without looking up “I’m perfectly fine Y/N , maybe later I’ll race you to the water”

“ok ok, I’ll leave you to your book then”

You got up and searched for the angel. Your eyes found him on the rocks that adorned the little secluded beach, he had taken off his jacket as well and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, his tie loosened.

“Ehy Cass, fancy a swim?” you asked looking down at the water .

“Not really, I don’t think I know how to swim, never tried it….but I will not drown , I don’t breath anyway. Do you know how?, to swim I mean”

“Yeah, since I was 5 years old, I’s not a big deal, I’ll teach you next time when we’ll have more time”

“I’d like that”

You stayed together , watching the waves and enjoying the view, but after some time the sun started to hit you pretty bad.

“I’m so sweaty, I think I’ll dive in “ you said, watching down the rocks and shedding your jeans.

“you want to jump from here? Isn’t it dangerous ?” Cass asked looking somewhere else as you took off your shirt, you didn’t have a bathing suit, but underwear and bra covered the exact same things, so who cares?

“It’s not that high and the current it’s calm now, so it won’t smash me against the rocks, the shore is very close anyway” you walked to the edge and turned to look at Cass smiling

“ Don’t worry I’ll be fine, don’t tell Dean though” pinching your nose with one hand you jumped, turning mid air, thumb up.

The water hit you, the initial cold took your breath away and you paused letting the bubbles tickling your skin and enjoying the way the water muffled every sound. Kicking your legs you resurfaced, rubbing your eyes from the salt water, grinning up at Cass who was searching for you from the rocks, and started to swim back to shore. The water was indeed calm but you didn’t want to stay near the rocks more than necessary. Once your feet felt the sand underneath, you stopped and turned around and let yourself floating looking at the sky. The water covering your ears isolated your from most of the sounds and for once you actually felt at peace.

Coming out the sea you saw that Dean didn’t move and was still sleeping face down , you smiled warmly. You knew he was tired , he didn’t sleep at all last night during the stake out, warm sand and the sound of waves would knock down anyone. His back was looking a bit too red and you knew he was going to get cranky and blame his sunburn onto you.

You got closer, peering at his face you saw that he was out cold, still softly snoring, his mouth slightly opened and squashed on his forearm used as a pillow. He was still wearing his jeans even if they were ranked up to his knees , his feet buried in the sand. You looked around your little camp and saw that Sam too was asleep , book open against his chest, and his hair partially covering his face, hanging to the side.

This little trip was something you programmed days prior, when you knew the location of the nest, the boys had worked non stop for several weeks and they needed a break.

You smiled wickedly as your playful side bubbled up , you were still wet, your hair dripping salt water on the sand that clung on your wet skin. Silently you straddled Dean’s legs and bending over, you pressed your cold wet body on his hot, and probably burned, skin.

Dean woke up startled and started thrashing around, you flexed your muscles to avoid being knocked off his back.

“Son of a bitch Y/N , THAT’S FRIGGING COLD” he said breathless.

“That’s the point , you are burning yourself” you laughed as he gave up and relaxed under you.

“you are gonna paid fo- AH!” you had gathered your dripping hair and squeezed them, cold water run down his back , pooling in the curve of his lower back. That….looked …kinda hot , you thought frowning. Dean sensed your body relaxing and he used that moment to turn around.

Neither of you probably thought it through because now you were straddling a naked from waist up Dean, in just your soaked purple underwear and white bra.

White bra which now was probably see through.

Your arms shoot up to cover yourself as you blushed.

Dean had all the time to look at you and you knew he did by the way his lips curved in his stupid grin.

“….already forgiven...” he grinned, you tried to get up but he bent his knees at the same time and as your back hit them, losing balance you fell against his chest. He hissed as your cold skin touched him but he didn’t move, instead his arms circled your back, pressing you down on him.

“D-Dean…”

“Yes?” he hummed

“Can you let-let me go?”

“nope…you don’t want me to get sunburn right?” you raised your head to look at him. This is the first time you get to see him so close, your faces were just a few inch apart and your breath got caught in your throat as his eyes fell on your lips. Seconds passed between you two as you studied each other’s known features as if it was the first time, something shifted. Blushing again you used one hand to push against his chest, and sat on him, his hands sliding down your waist to the apex of your thighs, squeezing slightly. His smug smile disappeared and there was something else on his face, something you had seen him put up in bars.

The arm still covering your see through bra slid down slowly and you saw his eyes leaving your face and get dark and wide and you felt something else shift under where you were seated ,as he looked at you.

A noise caught your attention as you looked over at Sam, still asleep , the book had fell over and the wind was blowing through the pages, tossing and turning them. That was enough to snap you out your little moment and you looked down at Dean again.

You brought your hands up to your breasts and saw Dean’s eyebrow raising, smirking you squeezed them.

“Motherfuc-Y/N!” you laughed as the water trapped in the fabric washed over Dean and, free from his grip you got up and started running. Your heart beating faster, not for the run , but for the revelation you just had. How Dean looked at you, and how bad you suddenly wanted him. You’ve been friends for so many years that you actually never thought about that, and now it just hit you ….

Oh you were in big trouble….

In the commotion, Sam woke up and saw you running down the beach, barely dressed and toward Castiel on the reef, while Dean was jumping on one foot, removing his jeans.

“Wait , till I get you !” he heard him shout as he started running.

He smiled and closed the book fallen to the side, his t-shirt and Jeans covering it seconds later.

Sam reached the group in time to see you grab Castiel’s arm as you fell down into the sea, dragging him with you, Dean jumping right after. Looking down he saw you, hair in your face laughing and grabbing Cass to keep in afloat, as Dean came up from under the water, shaking his head like a wet dog.

He saw you waving a him, he waved back and took a few steps back before jumping too.

Letting your clothes, dry up by the bonfire, you were drinking beer and sharing the two packages of jerky and marshmallows, Dean had in his bag, waiting for the sun to set before hitting the road home again.

“This actually feels like a little holiday” Sam sighed, as you all looked at the sunset over the sea.

“This has been pleasant “ Castiel said as he stared at the sand slipping through his toes.

“yeah….Y/N you were right , we needed this” Dean clicked his bottle to yours, and you smiled back.

“You are all welcome. Maybe Dean, you’ll listen to me the next time I sug-“

“We are not going to Disneyland! ”

Letting TFW make the shout out...

thanks Dean.

@curly-haired-disaster @time-travel-bouqet @dean-winchesters-bacon @babyimp1967 @bamcrux @icysundown @emoryhemsworth @wingedcatninja @imma-winchester-addict @midnightsilver @destiel-is-my-oxygen-life-death @southbreak @ilovetvshowsblog @ezilyamuzed @ravenangel33 @maimalfoi @theworldiscolorful @theroleplayer-gameaddiction @hannahindie @marilynnlew @mariekoukie6661 @wayward-and-worn @multifandombackpack @raelady1184 @mah1c @spnskinnyballs @starfirerules @missjenniferb @hunterswearingplaid @sculptorofbeginnings @younoeatcheeseyounobefat @theangelwinchester @missihart23 @weathergirl83 @ravenhg @soloarcana @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @sexykitten253 @ackleholicwinchester @clarinette07 @biawol @snffbeebee @daskleinevolk @icequeen6666 @hobby27

#fanfiction repost #dean x reader #reader x dean #spn #supernatural #supernatural dean winchester fanfic #supernatural reader insert fic #dean winchester #ain t bovvered #sam winchester #castiel #summer #team free will

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tealquacks · 7 years ago

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The Song Of The Cliffs- chapter nine

Wilford grabbed the bottle from the grass, taking a large gulp from the bottle, feeling as fire scorched down his throat. A way to get rid of the body, a way out, a way out of everything. Stumbling through the tall grass of the cliffside, he turned and looked down at the sleepy little village. Why, oh why, would they want to build their houses there, not overlooking the mighty sea? Falling, maybe, worry of falling down down down onto the rocky beach, bones and houses withering into sand and salty whisky that burns with the waves.

Wilford drank again, stumbling to the wrecked ship, far down the cliffside. Oh, that happy skeleton, the only way down that didn't involve cut palms and aching arms, a metal hull with torn open pieces like a broken ribcage waiting for another heart. The bottle was less than half full. He jumped onto the deck of the ruined boat, grip on the bottle tight. He didn't have anywhere to put it, since he left his bag at the bar, right? Yes, that's where he left it, leaving a kiss on Edgar's cheek as well as he staggered through the door with Host, ignoring how the pathetic barman seemed to tear up at the tiny gesture.

What was in the bottle? Whisky, something stronger? Liquid fire burning through his brain? Wilford giggled, grabbing onto the handrail as he went into the underbelly of the ship, noticing a speck of white in the dark hall. Unsure of his own balance, he didn't bend down to pick it up, only looked at it. It was a playing card, a four of hearts. Four hearts for the broken-open rib cage. One for Mark, one for Bim, one for Host, one left over, one for whoever had the highest price, one for the next to die, but who would win that auction? Execution. Auction. Wilford laughed again. He wasn't making sense, nothing was except for the fiery whiskey on its way down his gullet, which he took another drink of.

Wow. Wow! This shit is strong! Stronger than when he spent a night at Mark’s old mansion, a night of whisky and wine and poker, teaching themselves how to dance and fucking his butler when the night got late and the alcohol ran dry, talking and talking, drinking more, Mark crying over the war and leaning on him… unpleasant things. Bad to dwell on, or he’ll end up crying again. Not in the dead ship. Not for Mark. He picked up the playing card. Tearing it to tiny shreds, he scattered it on the ship floor like rice at a wedding, like dirt onto a grave.

Soon, there was a pile of rocks, collapsed in on itself. Wilford passes it without a second thought, ignoring the copper scented memories that pulled at him. How was it that he drank to forget, but always remembered? He grabbed the neck of the bottle so tightly he thought it would break. He had to push on. The hole in the hull seemed to glow with the moonlight pouring through it, and Wilford stumbled onto the beach, sand in his shoes even after one step. He could see the corpse of the Host laying on one of the rocks, coat wrapped around him like a burial shroud.

The high tide would wash away the blood, but not the body. Wouldn't it? Wilford would have to do that by hand. Host was always scared of the ocean, it was a shame it would be his grave, in a way. Only in a way, though. When they were serving together, Host said time and time again that he hoped their boat wouldn't sink, sink like all the other ships that had been reported as having sunk. At least Host didn't drown. He was always scared of drowning, choking on water and blood as he slipped into the oblivion.

Soon, Wilford was staring down at his corpse. His back was bent at an unnatural angle, so was his neck. There was blood staining all of his face and his coat like water running over a river bank, flooding everything. Good, that would work. He grabbed the body by the ankles and pulled, pulled with all his might, dragging him off of the rocks, down onto the sand, down close to where the mighty sea frothed. It was hard to do with only one hand, but letting go of the whiskey sounded like a bad idea.

Ankle deep in the salt of the ocean, the cold water was the only thing that felt real. Everything else felt oddly far away, like he was reading everything out of a book, everything happening to some tragically heroic character. Dragging him through the sand, blood trailing behind Host and staining his coat and the beach. Wilford drank more of the whiskey before the corpse was in the water, starting to bob with the waves and dye the sea red. Wilford waited. Let the body go, memories and thoughts still clinging to him as it peacefully floated off into the distance.

Host was yanked underwater by an unseen thing, water churning and boiling red with blood, scraps of fabric that once was the trench coat he held so dearly being tossed about, the water still frothing and reddening in a brilliant color Wilford hadn't seen since the war, since Mark, since the soldier under the rubble, rocks breaking and snapping bone like a dam caving under the force of water. Wilford drank more whiskey as the frothing subsided, a shadow streaking under the water, nearing the shore. He sunk down to his knees, the waves splashing idly against him, as if they weren't aware what was happening, like it was another normal day, another normal corpse eaten by another normal siren.

Wilford moved into the waves, until he was up to his waist in the water, bottle still in hand. He drank again. It tasted like salt. The shadow got closer, and Wilford couldn't help but feel comforted as a clawed hand grabbed onto his arm, a heavy tail in his lap. Dark’s entire front was stained red with blood, probably from the chunk of meat he was still chewing on, tearing away at it with razor sharp teeth. Wilford drank.

“Dear artist.” Dark purred, voice like honey.

“My siren.” He drunkenly slurred.

Dark raised his eyebrows at that, chewing and swallowing the final bit of meat before wiping off his front, great tail flicking.

“Who ever said I was yours?”

“I just did.”

Dark leaned in closer, Wilford could smell iron on his breath and see glints of moonlight in his eyes. Dark’s hair was still pulled into its lovely braid, all Wilford wanted to do was undo it, see how the inky strands would frame his face, the moonlight accenting his muscular body, built from years of swimming, scales like roses and miniature lakes, shards from the night sky itself reaching all the way down to his strong tail that flicked with the waves in all of its shadowy glory. He was still smaller than Wilford by a good amount, but all that muscle and the scales just wanted to make Wilford reach a hand up, caress the gills that shuddered against gray skin, flushed cheeks and kiss blood-stained lips-

“I'm drunk, Dark. Have mercy on me.” Wilford begged.

Dark looked at the bottle in Wilford's hand, taking it from his lose grip and considering it only for a second before taking a large drink from it, Wilford focusing on the lovely sirens throat and how pretty his lips looked wrapped sinfully around the neck of the bottle. His mouth would taste like blood and whiskey. Host’s blood. Wilford shuddered, but he didn't know why. Was it because of the streaks of blood down the sirens chest, the bits of flesh caught in its pearly fangs, or was it because of the siren’s perfection?

Dark finished drinking, Wilford taking the bottle and examining it, eyebrows shooting up.

“You drank it all! The hell!”

Dark licked his soft looking lips. It was silent for a bit, Wilford resting his hands on the sand behind him, ignoring how his arms and pants were absolutely soaked with water. The waves pushed at them. Wilford moved his hands to where skin turned to the scales of Dark’s tail, listening as Dark sucked in a sharp breath, tried to brush it off as a cough, claws brushing up against Wilford's hands.

“I haven't had anything to drink in a long, long time, not until the start of that war. Those sunken ships didn't have anything good on them, nothing as good as this. Your friend, the… cowboy, is that the word?” Dark looked quizzically at Wilford.

“He's not a cowboy. He owns the bar I got this from. I could get you more, if you want.”

Dark raised an eyebrow, shifting slightly in Wilford's lap.

“Really? Giving alcohol to something that can easily kill you? Me, the vicious siren? Goodness, is there a brain in that pretty little head of yours?”

Wilford huffed as the siren ran his claws through his hair, scratching his scalp ever so slightly. It didn't hurt that much, but it sent shivers down his spine.

“Well, I have a brain, you do too- how different are humans from sirens?”

Darks face went blank.

“Not at all, besides the scales. Same skin, albeit mine is a bit… discolored, same hair, same brains, hearts, every little bit. Except for the tail.”

“Except for the tail,” Wilford echoed. “Does it ever get boring, just swimming about? I mean, the ocean is giant, but just swimming?”

Dark had the funniest look on his face.

“What about walking? I barely remember walking, but I remember it being boring, tiring, foot to ground, foot to ground, over and over again. Swimming is much more efficient, much faster. Especially without feet.”

Wilford drank from the bottle again, thinking of the time when he and Host snuck from their barracks and swam in a near frozen lake, still wearing their helmets just in case there was enemy fire. It was when Host still had his eyes, but after he stopped wanting to be called Author. That whole year felt like some weird in-between period, like the time it takes to have a pot of water boil, waiting and waiting.

“What would ya’ know about feet?”

“I used to have them,” Dark sounded far away, as if he was talking underwater, “I used to walk around the town and dodge carriages as I ran through the streets. It is 1924- is it not? 1924. I know the war is over, the ocean isn't flooded with bodies. I can feel another one brewing. I remember the war, the smell of blood drawing me to the shore like I'm being pulled. Before that, when I had just become what I am, I tried eating a sailor alive. I was so young, so stupid. I didn't even try to drown him, I was so hungry….”

Wilford wanted to ask him to slow down, but the siren kept talking.

“The war seemed to cling to me. It ran their hands on my scales. It's always going to be wars, always men fighting over and over again. Guns, tanks, mines, torpedos. It makes sense to have a soldier as mine, to know such a brave man… I used to be a coward. A coward that died with my humanity. Oh, Wilford, you remind me of what I was, the warmth of the land. Never, never have I felt so warm, so human like.”

“Dark-” Wilford felt his heart melt at Darks flowery words.

The siren smirked with sharp, fanged teeth that shone like… something shiny. Wilford let go of the bottle, hearing it splash in the ocean. He brought his hand up to Dark’s face, caressing his cheek with his thumb. He could feel his heart banging in his chest as the siren leaned into the touch, wondering how it's only been two days, only two days since the ship. Dark’s face was right in front of his, eyes dark and speckled with silver.

“My soldier, I am your muse.”

With that, the siren leaned in impossibly closer, and Wilford shut his eyes as their lips met. Dark’s lips were as soft as they looked as they moved against his, Wilford tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Almost immediately, he felt Dark’s fangs lightly scratch his lips, a feeling that Wilford could get drunk on much easier than the whiskey. Wilford moved his hands from Dark’s face, resting them on his chest as the siren grabbed his hips, still trying to pull him closer, his claws digging into his skin. The taste was a blur of whiskey and the slightest tinge of blood on his lips, something salty like the cold ocean, a taste that Wilford drank up as he kissed him, kissed him with his whole heart. Dark was leaning fully on him, and soon they were under the water, Wilford not breaking the kiss even as he was fully soaked with cold, salty water. He wrapped his legs around Dark’s tail as the siren broke the kiss, smiling at him.

Wilford opened his mouth to try to say something, but started choking on the ocean water, tapping Dark’s shoulder to get him to let him up. He shot up out of the water and sucked in a lungful of air, Dark looking smugly at him.

“I hope you don't kiss and tell.”

Wilford smiled, leaning in close for another kiss.

“Wouldn't dream of it, darling.”

Their lips touched again, Wilford leaning into the siren’s chest and passionately returning the kiss, the sea wrapped around both of them in soft waves, as soft as Dark’s lips on his. The moon was nearly full and beautiful, as beautiful as the two lovers kissing.

#darkiplier #wilford warfstache #the host #darkstache #song of the cliffs #shits heating up #tw blood #oh boy howdy shits getting real #it took so fucking long to get this scene right #wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo #ya boy writes #thesongofthecliffs #siren au #The Song Of The Cliffs #The Song Of The Cliff #Palpalbuddypal siren AU

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rebeccahpedersen · 7 years ago

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Help vs. Hinder: A Tale Of Two Agents

TorontoRealtyBlog

Call me soppy and a little naive, but perhaps a “feel-good” story from the real estate trenches will cure what ails you on an otherwise ugly November day.

This past week, I worked on two transactions with two agents who couldn’t have possibly been more different.

One did everything he could to help me and my clients, and the other offered absolutely zero assistance, and got in his own way when it came to potentially completing a deal.

Do unto others, or something. Right?

I sold a property on Wednesday night, and it left a bit of a bad taste in my mouth.

It was a property that I’d had listed off and on since the spring; a very complicated sale, in a complicated market – for this housing type.

I had been diligently working away over the past two weeks with a cooperating agent who I’ve dealt with before, and with whom I have a mutual respect.

My clients were adamant about obtaining an unconditional offer, and his seller was adamant about knowing that he could get insurance on the property, so we ended up in a stalemate.

The offer on-paper fizzled out long ago, and we were left that a seller that essentially said, “I’ll accept those terms if and when you submit the offer without any conditions,” and a buyer who was basically telling us, “I’m not submitting the offer until I have confirmation of insurance, so you’ll just have to wait.”

And wait, we did.

This property has been listed (this time around) since the day after Labour Day, and what are the odds that on the very day that the cooperating agent calls to tell me his client was able to obtain insurance, another offer was submitted on the house?

Murphy’s Law.

We ended up taking the “other” offer, which was higher, also without conditions, and my colleague from a cooperating brokerage was left spurned.

I felt pretty salty about the whole thing. He worked his tail off, did everything that was expected of him, and came up empty.

When I called him to deliver the bad news, he told me, “David, it was really a pleasure working with you, and that’s not hollow – that’s the truth. You’re a consummate professional, and that’s saying something, considering who’s we’re out there trying to do deals with these days.”

It meant a lot, and I felt the exact same way. It’s part of the reason I felt so bad about him not getting the deal.

There are all kinds of agents in this business, and if you’re a regular reader of Toronto Realty Blog, you know I’m not afraid to describe the various “types.” I’m also not afraid to call a spade a spade, and detail bad behaviour when I see it.

This past week, I had two completely different experiences, with two different agents, one day after the next.

The first underscores all that’s wrong with our industry, and the second highlights a true “professional” who has been in the business for two decades, and hasn’t changed his approach to customer service one iota.

I showed a condo last weekend in a slightly older building last weekend, and my clients were pretty keen on it.

The price per square foot was fantastic compared to newer comparable resale units, the fees weren’t as high as you would think, for a building of that age, and the renovations needed to the unit were minimal.

One question we did have was with respect to the parking, since there were two parking spaces, but Land Registry was not clear on whether it was one space for two cars, but also about whether or not these spaces were owned, or exclusive use.

In older buildings, many times the parking is “exclusive use,” meaning is common elements by definition, and isn’t owned, per se, by the unit owner. It’s like your balcony or terrace – this is “exclusive use, common elements,” which means only you can use it, but you don’t legally own it.

I had gone through previous listings in the building, and hadn’t received the clarity I needed on the ownership situation, so I called the property manager. Unfortunately, the property manager wouldn’t speak with me unless I was a unit owner, so I turned to the listing agent for help.

I called the listing agent – somebody who has been in the business for a while, but who (and I know from looking him up in IMS) is far from a high-volume producer. 6-8 transactions per year, I’m sorry to say, doesn’t build villages. And in my opinion, it’s agents like this that need to sell condos in order to put money in their pockets, and who do anything, to anybody, to close a deal.

The agent had a rough demeanour from the minute I picked up the phone, and I just had that “feeling” of how this conversation was going to go.

“I showed your unit at XXX Street on the weekend….” I told him.

“Great, where’s my offer?” he asked, interrupting me in mid-thought.

“Right,” I said. “Well here’s my question: do you know if the two parking spaces are separate?? Because there’s only one actual spot-number painted on the column, and I’m also not sure if the parking is owned or if it’s exclusive use.”

I was just cracking the lid on my morning coffee, so I was in no way prepared for his response.

“What the f*ck do I care?” he asked me.

And then I waited for a follow-up.

“Oh…..kay,” I offered to break the silence.

“Come on, I’m just breaking your balls a bit,” he said, as I hoped he was just being funny. “But nah, seriously man, I mean what the hell do I care about parking? There’s two cars down in the garage, right? A Beamer and a Land Rover to boot, right, so they fit good, and you’re buying this place from good company, because let me tell you, these guys are well off.”

While I’ll concede that mentioning two large cars fit in the spaces is value-add, telling me how rich his clients are, and insinuating that buying from “good company” is of any importance, didn’t really strike a chord with me.

“Well,” I explained, “My clients only have one car, and they want to know if they can sell one space,” I told him. “I also think there’s something to be said for owning the spaces, versus just having exclusive use, as we’re trying to value this unit versus one in another building.”

He barely let me finish before he interjected, “Nah, nah man, you’re all wrong, right. None of that matters. What matters is two cars. Two cars, man. That’s it.”

I didn’t feel like we were getting anywhere, so I asked, “Would your seller be able to speak to property management, and allow me to speak with the manager, to get some clarification? They won’t speak to me unless I’m an owner.”

“Why the f*ck would I do that?” he asked.

There was a long pause as I tried to process things, and he then offered, “I mean, why am I doing you a favour? What’s in this for us? You wanna know what’s behind the curtain; what my clients have in their closet. Why would we offer that kind of information?”

The whole conversation made no sense, so I simply said, “Because I need to know what you’re offering for sale, so my clients can decide what to buy.”

“Nah, nah, nah. Nope. It’s not like that,” he said.

We parted ways, and I suggested to my buyer that she call property management, and say that she was looking to buy a condo in the building, and she had a few questions. Coming from a buyer – and an older, retired lady, nonetheless, perhaps it would be better received.

My buyer called me back shortly thereafter, and told me that the property manager still wouldn’t answer specific questions, but if she wanted to request a status certificate for the unit, she could.

The whole situation was frustrating to say the least, but even more frustrating was the call I got an hour later – from the listing agent.

Unleashing a barrage of curse-words that I haven’t used since high school, he asked, “how dare you call and try to trade on my clients’ names?”

I didn’t even know what that meant, and not much of the rest of the conversation made any sense.

Folks, I know some of you might try to see the “other side” of this, and suggest that, I don’t know, we should make an offer, conditional, and then they can show us whether there’s two parking spaces, and whether they’re owned or exclusive use?

But that doesn’t make any sense.

“Is there a locker with this unit?”

“Yes, there is.”

“Thanks.”

I don’t see how our situation is any different from that.

We ended up looking at a couple more units this past week, one of which we’re in sign-back on as we speak.

It’s too bad. But perhaps that’s why the other unit has been on the market for 57 days…

The very next day, I was looking at two townhouses with clients who are moving from Mississauga to the downtown core, so they can be closer to work, and so their daughter can attend a speciality school here in the city.

The entire reason for this move was to make life easier, mainly by avoiding a 45-minute daily commute to-and-from work, without losing the comforts of a large house on a wide lot in a family neighbourhood.

We were looking at two townhouses – one downtown, one uptown, and we were really stuck on the parking.

My clients have a 5-car private driveway in Mississauga, and while they’re not crazy about the idea of having ONE parking space here in the central core, they could make it work.

One of my clients would store her car at the Bay/Adelaide centre, because she really only drives the car for client meetings, and on business trips, and doesn’t need the car at home.

My other client would store his car in the garage at the townhouse.

And their older kids would have to use street parking if and when they came home to visit from university.

The townhouse uptown had underground parking, and we measured the opening of the garage, which was 10′ 2″.

The garage itself was probably 16-feet wide, or what real estate agents like to call “one and a half car garage,” but overall, the 10-foot entrance would fit just about any car my clients or their kids would be driving.

The townhouse downtown had a garage, and it looked really tight.

From the first day we visited this property (and we saw it four times!), we kept coming back to the parking space.

Would her car fit? Would his?

Last week, she tried to do an 14-point turn and manoever her car into the garage, but she wasn’t able.

I told her, “I’ll bet you your kid’s next violin lesson I can get your car in that garage,” to which, she accepted the challenge.

Maybe it was the stick-shift on this luxury automobile, or maybe it was the fact that I felt like I was driving Batman’s car, but I barely got the car out of “Park” before I gave up.

So this past week, we returned to the townhouse, with her husband’s car, to see if he could fit his car in the garage.

But guess what?

When we arrived, we saw the seller’s car in the garage!

And to complicate matters, there was an offer on the property.

We wanted to offer an unconditional offer, but we couldn’t in good conscience make an offer without knowing if a car would fit in the garage.

We measured the entrance at an even 8″ on the nose, which was 2’2″ less than the garage at the uptown-townhouse.

The husband told me, “I can fit the car, no problem,” and the wife said, “I’d have to see it, I really would.”

I can’t say I blame her, and as he hit up Google to compare the turning radius, length, and width of the Toyota Corolla that was currently in the garage, and the Mazda SUV that he owned, I called the listing agent to see what could be done.

As our bad luck would provide for, the sellers had just left for a three-week vacation, and thus they weren’t able to come and move their car.

I begged the listing agent to find a solution, and he spent the better part of an hour speaking with the sellers, their cousin, and their cleaning lady.

After 90 minutes in the property, I left to go to my next appointment, and my buyers headed back to work.

My phone rang, and it was the listing agent.

“I found a key to the car,” he said. “I’m game to try this thing, if you are.”

I thanked him profusely, and called my clients to see if they could come back to the property.

A half-hour later, the listing agent was moving the sellers’ car, with the cleaning lady’s key, and parking it on the street so my client could test-out the garage.

We watched as he worked the stick-shift like Jacques Villeneuve, and worked the car back-and-forth, back-and-forth, until the car was safely in the garage.

“Got it!” my client exclaimed, after getting out of of the car, smiling, and pounding on the hood of the car.

“But I’ll be damned if I’m going to do this every single morning, for the rest of my life,” he said, as our hopes of making this work came crashing down.

I walked out to the street with the listing agent as he got back in the sellers’ car, and told him how much I appreciated his efforts.

“Well, it’s not like we want this family to buy a house only to find out they don’t like a major feature of it, do we?”

I was amazed.

The listing agent’s actions – helping us with our query, might have cost him an offer, but it underscored the length he would go to work on his seller’s behalf.

And in the end, he wanted to make sure the buyer was happy too.

I can’t think of a time when I’ve had two more different experiences, ironically with the same feature of a piece of real estate (parking), in such a short time period.

It was Ying & Yang.

Night and Day.

Opposite-day, in the world of Toronto real estate.

I’m sorry, folks. But you catch more flies with honey in this business. I’m sure you can poke holes in each of these stories if you try really hard, but trust me when I say that there’s only one way to work in this business, if you’re looking for a lengthy, successful career with satisfied clients, repeat business, and no lawsuits…

The post Help vs. Hinder: A Tale Of Two Agents appeared first on Toronto Real Estate Property Sales & Investments | Toronto Realty Blog by David Fleming.

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