Real Estate Revenge

(TL;DR at bottom)

I’ve been a real estate broker in Chicago for nearly 20 years. I started at a very small independent brokerage. It was my first week there when the broker/owner gave me a lead. He was older and wasn’t in very good health, so he passed a lot of his leads to his agents.

One of the broker’s friends passed away and the friend’s son wanted to sell the house. I call the son who tells me he’s known the broker for 30-plus years and how close their families were. He seems like a really nice guy. I go over and check out the house. I work up a gorgeous comparative market analysis. I have other brokers check my numbers (I was new and wanted to do a perfect job for my new client). I rehearse my presentation, have my stuff professionally printed, prepare for any possible questions, have responses ready for objections, and I head out.

I dazzle this guy with my presentation. He likes the $135,000 list price I recommended. He’s fine with the commission. He has no objections, but he asks me to give him 2 months to clean out the house, give his siblings a chance to go through everything and then repaint.

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of huntresses and men [1]

1: Strucker’s Roadhouse

Summary: Hunters weren’t the best kind of company to be in most of the time. || supernatural au || bucky barnes x reader, ft. steve 

Warnings: barnes doesn’t have a filter, smol!steeb, language, i think that’s it for now

Notes: Kudos to the amazing @retroasgardian for looking over my shitty writing. I hope you guys enjoy this! And yes, there is a reason that Steve is tiny lmao. Length of this chapter is a little over 1200 words. This fic is gonna be a sloooooow burn between Buck and the reader. Feedback is greatly appreciated! If you’d like to be removed/added to the tag list, let me know!!


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Private Readings (Cole Sprouse x Reader)

Imagine: One day when minding the book shop, you come across a strange-yet-handsome young man perusing the shelves. What you thought was another annoying private reader would turn out to be more than you ever imagined.

You were at your wit’s end. Your summer of working at the bookstore was not the magical, mentally-stimulating experience you had imagined it to be. Instead it was days of rude, somewhat-racist customers, disorganized shelves, and your worst nemesis–private readers.

Private readers were “customers” who came into the shop only to read through the books without paying, then leave. They were the biggest enemy to your business–your grandfather’s business, until he had passed away. This shop was the last thing of his you had, and you were not going to give it up thanks to some private readers.

You were kneeling on the floor, exasperatedly reorganizing a shelf when you spotted the feet of a private reader in the adjacent aisle. You could tell who they were just from the way they stood. They would lean against the shelves for extended periods of time without moving as they read their book of choice. Sometimes, they’d even sit on the floors!

You stood quickly, sliding a chunk of books off the shelf so you could see the culprit. He was a tall, dark-haired young man with expensive-looking clothes and a lanky build. He was currently privately reading an Archie comic. Your face reddened. But no matter how handsome, private reading was not allowed. For anyone.

“Excuse me,” you said, a hint of irritation in your voice. “Private reading is not allowed.

The man turned to you, an amused smile on his face. His angle gave you the full view of his freckled, tan face, deep blue eyes, and impeccable bone structure. He looked so familiar, yet you couldn’t place it.

Your irritation grew, overshadowing your growing attraction. “Does that work on all the girls? They must not have a ‘no private reading’ policy.”

The man’s expression fell slightly. He sauntered down his aisle, turning so he was standing in yours. He walked up, hand extended.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m Cole. Cole Sprouse.”

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About a decade ago, home prices exploded to bizarro levels, then millions of families got behind on their mortgage payments. A financial crisis spiraled out from there, almost destroying the world. Things have improved a bit since then, but it still sucks for lots of people. If you can’t make your payments, the bank squares the debt by seizing your home, and you’re left out in the cold. In the modern world, it’s one of the worst things that can happen to you that doesn’t involve a somber doctor asking you to please sit down.

That’s where Evelyn comes in. As part of her real estate job, she works with banks to handle foreclosures, evictions, and lockouts. We asked her what it’s like watching this tragedy unfold again and again. And yeah, it’s a fucking nightmare.

I Foreclose Houses For Banks: 5 Awful Realities


This is a video uploaded to Youtube by an acquaintance of Dylann Roof and close friend of Joey Meek, Shane Kimrey. Shane died from suicide in 2014.

A few weeks before the massacre Joey Meek, who’s trailer Dylann had been staying in, took his gun from his car and hid it. “I thought he was going to do something that night, in his drunkenness,” Joey said, and as he went over it again, he started thinking less about Dylann and more about another friend of his named Shane, and what Shane had done in his own drunkenness.

Before the trailer, the Meek brothers lived in another part of Lexington, in a house in a subdivision called Ridgewood. Dylann had lived on an adjacent street, and Shane lived nearby. Shane often stayed with the Meeks, who liked having him around. 

He would stay for weeks at the house in Ridgewood, and when Kim lost the house to foreclosure, he would stay at the trailer, even though he had his own trailer by then. He was around when Roof arrived in May, but the two didn’t interact very much. Mostly, Shane drank and played video games. He was 21 at that point and saying troubling things that none of the Meeks took seriously. 

Kim (Joey’s mother) was the first to find out. She called Joey to say that Shane had put a shotgun in his mouth and killed himself. Joey remembers getting teary, and he also remembers not believing it and asking Dylann to drive him over to Shane’s trailer.

Lindsey Fry (Joey’s girlfriend), and Dylann stayed in the car, and Lindsey remembers him not saying a word or expressing any kind of emotion. Joey and his brother, meanwhile, walked up to Shane’s door, half-expecting to see Shane waiting for them, laughing that they fell for his joke. But then they were inside, seeing Shane’s blood all over the couch, and Joey was getting sick.

“Anyways, when I was in there I had grabbed his boots — they’re right over there,” Joey said, pointing to a pair of worn cowboy boots he took from the trailer that night as a memento. The boots were mixed into a pile of shoes in the bedroom where sometimes Shane slept, and sometimes Dylann slept.

Is Real Estate For You?

For many years now, plenty of people that are wealthy have gotten that way through investing in real estate.  Real estate investments are one of the things that can bring ongoing financial profits every month.  When it increases in value, your investment becomes that much more important and profitable. 


You can get your money’s worth when the value of your real estate investment increases.  However, people that are interested in real estate investment need to know that it is more than just making money. 


There are many things you need to consider if you are interested in investing in real estate, in particular residential real estate.  There is no doubt that you can be very wealthy with this.  However, you will have to stay in it for the long haul in order to make it work for you. 


If this is your first foray with this, you will want to weigh your options as far as how you will purchase your initial property.  Not a lot of people have the entire amount up front to purchase the property with cash. 


So, instead of saving, some people will go ahead and get a loan in order to get started.  Some experts say that it is better to wait and save your money first.  This way, the monthly income that comes in will go to you instead of the lender.  You will also be able to build wealth quicker by paying the entire amount in cash. 


However, it is still possible that a bank will loan you the money you need in order to get the property.  If you go this route, make sure that you have some backup funds in the event you get in a financial rut.  At least you will still be able to pay on the loan. 


Of course, the better situation is to have all of the money up front and pay cash outright for it.  After that, you would only be responsible for repairs, maintenance, taxes and other miscellaneous items.


When considering a property for investment purposes, you will need to know how much it will cost you in taxes.  Every year, you will have to do this or you could find yourself with a lien on your home.  In addition to that, you will need to determine a monthly rent amount for whoever you allow to stay there. 


Some investors will go through a rental or management company to get their rent.  This can release some of the duties from your schedule.  On the other hand, you will have to shell out more money to the company for outsourcing. 


Only when you are financially able, should you do this.  As a beginner investor, you should be responsible for collecting the rent and other fees as deemed appropriate.


Make sure that you have enough money put away for repairs, expected and unexpected.  You never know when something will stop working in a split second.  It’s better to be prepared that unprepared for things such as this.


For as long as there has been an internet, there have been people trying to beat the system. From phishing schemes to fake Nigerian Princes just looking for a quick loan of your entire bank account, the Worldwide Web is wall-to-wall with hackers and scammers.

But what’s bad news for many can be good news for some. Just like the stock market crash was great for the bank foreclosure sign business, so too is an internet stockpiled with evildoers good for experts in cybersecurity.

While there are a lot of skills necessary to be a capable hacker, none of them need to be learned on a college campus. The road to being an expert in cyber security simply starts with having a strong understanding of computers. Considering that nowadays, humans practically receive a smartphone with their birth certificate, we’re willing to bet you’re on the right track without even meaning to be. With over 85 hours of content, these courses will give you the requisite knowledge to pass standard industry exams. Get the Cybersecurity Certification Mega Bundle here for just $69.

4 Reasons You Need A Cyber Security Job (And How To Get One)

“People aren’t pissed just to be pissed. They’re mad because a tiny group of crooks on Wall Street built themselves beach houses in the Hamptons through a crude fraud scheme that decimated their retirement funds, caused property values in their neighborhoods to collapse and caused over four million people to be put in foreclosure.”  


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“But it was especially by speaking of my inclinations as no longer liable to change and of what was destined to make my life a happy one that he awakened in me two terrible suspicions. The first was that (at a time when, every day, I regarded myself as standing on the threshold of a life that was still intact and would not enter on its course until the following morning) my existence was already begun, and that, furthermore, what was yet to follow would not be very different from what had preceded. The second suspicion, which was nothing more, really, than a variant of the first, was that I was not situated somewhere outside the realm of Time, but was subject to its laws, just like the people in novels who, for that reason, used to plunge me into such depression when I read about their lives, down at Combray, in the back of my wicker sentry box. In theory we know that the earth turns, but in fact we do not perceive it; the ground on which we tread seems not to move and we live undisturbed. So it is with Time in our life. And to make its flight perceptible novelists are obliged, by wildly accelerating the beat of the pendulum, to transport the reader in a couple of minutes over ten, twenty, or thirty years. At the top of one page we have left a lover full of hope; at the foot of the next we meet him again, an octogenarian, painfully dragging himself on his daily walk about the courtyard of a nursing home, scarcely replying to what is said to him, oblivious of the past. In saying of me, “He is no longer a child; his tastes will not change now, etc.,” my father had suddenly made me see myself in my position in Time, and caused me the same kind of depression as if I had been, not yet the demented old nursing home patient, but one of those heroes of whom the author, in a tone of indifference that is particularly cruel, says to us at the end of a book: “He very seldom comes up now from the country. He has finally decided to end his days there, etc.””

Μarcel Proust, In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower, In Search of Lost Time

“There comes a time (and this is a problem of consciousness) when “our days are numbered”: there begins a backwards count, vague yet irreversible. You knew you were mortal (everyone has told  you  so, ever since you had ears to hear); suddenly you feel mortal (this is not a natural feeling; the natural one is to believe yourself immortal; whence so many accidents due to careless­ness).This evidence, once it is experienced, transforms the landscape: I must, imperatively, lodge my work in a compart­ment which has uncertain contours but which I know (new consciousness) are finite: the last compartment. Or rather, be­cause the compartment is designated, because there  are no longer any “outside-instances,” the work I am going to lodge there assumes a kind of formality, a solemn instance. Like Proust, ill, threatened by death (or believing himself so), we come back to the phrase of St. John quoted, approximately, in Contre Sainte­Beuve: “Work, while you still have the light.”
And then a time also comes (the same time) when what you have done, worked, written, appears doomed to repetition: What! Until my death, to be writing articles,  giving courses, lectures, on “subjects” which alone will vary, and so little! (It’s that “on” which bothers me.) This feeling is a cruel one; for it confronts me with the foreclosure of anything New or even of any Adventure (that which “advenes” which befalls me); I see my future, until death, as a series: when I’ve finished this text, this lecture, I’ll have nothing else to do but start again with another … Can this be all?  No, Sisyphus is not happy: he is alienated, not by  the effort of his labor, or even by its vanity, but by its repetition.”

Roland Barthes, Longtemps, je me suis couche de bonne heure …, The Rustle of Language