#Plumber Box Hill

[gracieheartspedro]

Your Needs, My Needs

THE PRELUDE

a masterlist of how you can help gaza

pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

description: you have made it to your new home in taylor, texas. your anxiety of owning your our home and being alone is coming to a head, but you need to be productive. a trip to the local furniture turns into you meeting some locals and your new cowboy neighbor.

word count: 3.7k words

warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, description of small age gap, joel being a sarcastic shithead. sarah is canon, so joel is a dad. distracted driving. talks of consuming food. reader has mental illness, mainly described as anxiety, but could be other illnesses. I make it pretty vague. the reader likes football? lmfao

author's note: this is the prelude to the many parts I have planned for these two. this is sort of just setting up everything. I want a slow burn for these two, so hopefully these first couple parts make you guys sweat with anticipation. I also wanna quickly thank all of you for the love on the preview of this fic. I hope you all enjoy it! let me know what y'all think. YEEHAW!

“Sign here and she’s all yours.”

When you brought the pen to the dotted line, you knew that this was going to be the start of your new life. 

While you were nervous about taking on such a huge project, you were ready to find solace in your alone time and work on yourself along with the beautiful farmhouse. You needed some peace and quiet, anyway. 

She was set on 20 acres of land on the outskirts of a small town called Taylor. The land looked like something out of a movie, it’s rolling hills and sprawling fields. 

The house was about 130 years old and needed a lot of TLC. You found it online after hours of scrolling. It was still liveable, but the older couple who owned it before moved to a retirement community and could not keep up with the maintenance. When the inheritance hit your bank account, you called the local realtor and told them you would be flying out there to check it out. When the car pulled up the long driveway, you knew that it would be yours. 

Texas was a new start for you. And boy, were you ready for it. 

You did not have a lot to move in, just a small UHaul full of boxes of clothes and miscellaneous trinkets. You left your furniture in your shared apartment in New York. You needed to find something that was more your style, anyway. 

You moved everything yourself. You were not sure you were ready to trust anyone to help you move in. You knew no one locally, anyway.

It took about three days to get settled, and by that, you simply put up a shower curtain and finally put sheets on your mattress on the floor. You had also created a laundry list of random things you wanted to get done around the house in the next month. Priority number one was getting the bathrooms working. The toilet downstairs doesn’t stop running and your upstairs one won’t flush at all. 

You decided that today was the day you would go out and buy some furniture for your living room and bedroom. You would also inquire to some locals about a plumber. It would take you days to work up the courage to reach out to someone in the phone book, so here’s to hoping you just run into someone on the street. 

You hop into the sedan that you were renting until you could buy a car. It was nice but it was no match for your long dirt driveway. You already expected to pay extra for all the dings on the exterior. 

The roads that lead into Main Street are long and winding. You loved driving, so when it was nice enough to put the windows down, you did so. 

Since there’s no one on this specific stretch, you decide to switch the CD you had shoved into the disc drive, opting for another mix you had made years ago. The radio never played what you wanted, especially the local stations in Taylor. 

In your distracted scramble for the CD, you don’t take note of the large stallion running next to your car. The CD is wedged between the seat and the main console and your fingers cannot reach the awkward position. 

You’re not speeding. But when a giant horse runs out in front of you, you can not hit the break quickly enough. You stop breathing, bracing for impact. You jerk the wheel slightly, swerving away from the steed.  Before your front end can make an impact, the horse is snatched back towards the divot in the road. 

You are in complete and utter shock over how abruptly it all happened. 

Your eye eventually catches a man on horseback, his cowboy hat shields most of his face, but you are more focused on how built this man looks. His biceps were straining against his button-up shirt as he held the lasso taut against his chest. His legs were locked around the brown stallion he was on, his jeans riddled with mud and dust. He had dark curls that peaked out from under his hat.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” You yell, your car slowly inching forward from its spot in the middle of the road, “Where did that thing even come from?”

The mysterious cowboy just shakes his head and trots away, clicking his tongue to guide the horse back into the field. 

Your heart felt like it may leap out of your chest. A car was chugging down the road ahead of you, so you knew you had to move out of the way. You turn into your lane and slowly start down the road again.

You do not even bother trying to find the CD, again. You would rather sit in complete silence. 

-

When you make it to the small stretch of downtown, your heart rate slows down. You spot a local furniture store that looks a bit dated. It was your best bet plus, you wanted to stand on solid ground and gain your bearings. 

You parallel park rather terribly and hop out of your car. You huff loudly, throwing your purse over your shoulder and slamming the door behind you. 

A hot cowboy saved your life. 

It’s the most Texas thing that’s happened to you since you moved here. 

You head inside the storefront. A smaller white-haired lady sits at the front desk, her head in a gossip magazine. 

“Well, hello there,” You muster in your best cheery voice, trying to act like you did not almost die, “I’m lookin’ for some furniture.”

She chuckles as she places her reading next to the register, “Well, you came to the right place, sweetheart.”

You return the laugh, glancing around the large store. Couches and recliners in rows in the front, wooden bed sets lining the back wall. You were so indecisive, you were not completely sure where to start. 

“I need a bedroom set and a couch or two. I just moved into th-”

“The old Caldwell farmhouse,” She cuts you off, hopping off her stool, “Saw you movin’ in a couple days ago. My boy is your neighbor.”

The joke about small towns is always true, you know that already. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. You could not shit without someone knowing about it. 

You raise your eyebrows, acting like you’re shocked she knows about you already. “Yes, that’s right. Your boy?”

“My oldest son, Joel. He lives across the way from ya,” She starts gesturing towards the couches, “Pop a squat on one and see which one ya like.”

You end up sitting on every couch before landing on a brown leather one with a matching loveseat. The old woman is a great saleswoman on top of being sickly sweet. She told you since you are one of her first customers of the month, she would give you a great discount on a coffee table. You were a sucker for a good deal. 

You knew what bed set you wanted immediately. It was a light-washed wood with tall pillars sticking out of every corner. It came with two matching dressers and one nightstand. It was only you, so you didn’t quite care about another side table anyway. 

When the lady starts tallying up your total, you watch the slow-moving downtown. A couple walking across the street into the small diner. An older gentleman walking his small dog. The rickety old trucks that loudly took up the roads. 

You’re so stuck in your head, you don’t even hear what your total is. All you do is hand over your credit card. She smiles and giggles as she swipes the card. 

“So I’ll have my boy deliver it to you tomorrow. He is busy workin’ today, but I’ll have him get it to you. He’s quite the handyman, always busy doing jobs around town. Will you be home in the morning?”

You would have to have some strange man in your home to set up the heavy wooden furniture. It made the hairs on your arm stand up. You knew you would not be able to haul it all, so you had to take the leap of faith and hope and pray this frail old lady’s son is not a serial killer. Or stalker. Or both. 

You needed your furniture, after all. 

It will be okay, you tell yourself. 

“U-uh, I will,” You swallow, “I don’t work right now, so I’ll be home all day.”

“Oh, goody! I will send him your way in the morning. He may have his brother with him just to get the bed up your stairs, but I promise they are good boys. If they aren’t, you come to me and their mama will deal with them.”

You laugh nervously, “Of course, thank you so much.”

–

You had woken up late, your anxiety creeping up on you last night. Your brain would not stop racing. You didn’t fall asleep until 2 am. You hop out of bed around 10:30 and wrap yourself in a cardigan. You have been leaving all the windows open at night, but you can tell the seasons are shifting because it gets so cold at night. 

The doorbell rings and it’s like your heart falls out of your chest. You know that after you open this door, you’re welcoming in someone completely new and unexpected and it makes your whole body jitter. You make your way to the front door and take a deep breath before opening it. 

Of course. It’s him. The hot cowboy. 

It made sense. The endless green across from your home had to be part of his property. The road you almost died on yesterday was right beside his land. His house was tucked right across from the end of your driveway, with countless barns spread across a couple of acres.

You were secretly hoping he would be some silly-looking hillbilly, but instead, you find out your delivery man is the ridiculously attractive cowboy from the day before. His hair is tidy and dark without the cowboy hat on. It’s peppered with some white hairs, but it only adds to his appearance. His flannel has the top three buttons undone and his jeans are stained with age. You are finally able to get a good look at his face with no shadows covering his permanent scowl. 

He had to be about 10 years older than you. You were not too far off from wrinkles, but you were still young enough to bear children without being considered geriatric. 

He squints at you when you swing the door open. The sun is hitting his eyes, highlighting the warm rich brown color. 

“Howdy neighbor,” He greets, a small smirk plays on his lips, “’m Joel. Nice to meet you officially.”

You introduce yourself, trying not to stutter as you say your name. He made you nervous. You chalk it up to just being nervous around men in general. But it’s the way his eyes trailed you as you moved just slightly.

You feel the need to clear the air because of the way he’s staring through you. 

“And uh, listen, about yesterday,” You try to apologize, but he cuts you off by raising his hand. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time an outsider got themselves hurt bein’ reckless down the backroads. Just glad you didn’t hit my horse.”

The response has a bit of a bite to it. You back up a step, your body also taken aback by his directness. You are used to confrontational people, but you’re not used to Southern folk being that way. 

“No, next time I’ll aim for the ditch and tell my insurance that there was a silly cowboy in the road that I had to miss.”

You can tell by the sheepish smile on his face that he was not expecting you to be feisty.

“Don’t think they’d give ya’ much money for that,” He says in a hushed but matter-of-fact tone.

You relax your shoulders, trying to collect yourself. “Probably not.” 

He turns back to his truck that has your bed frame in the back of it, disregarding the previous statements. “My brother is comin’ by in a few to help me get this stuff in.”

“Well, let’s not let all the air out of the house right now,” You extend the door wider for him. You are giving this man full access to your home now. You try to suppress your obsessive thoughts and instead decide that you know exactly what you can have him do while you wait. You remember his mom told you he was good with his hands, and since he wants to be snarky to you in the comfort of your own home, you would try to pick his mind about some of your home projects. “Come in, let me ask you something.” 

You begin, gesturing him into the entryway. He accepts the offer, kicking his boots off on the porch. You appreciate his thoughtfulness and for a second, you realize you may be the asshole. 

“Mama told you I was a handyman, didn’t she?”

You giggle, finding it funny that he could read the situation you were about to put him in. “She sure did.”

“She needs to stop tellin’ folks that,” His accent is so thick and syrupy, that it makes your insides tingle, “Got too many people askin’ me to fix their stuff.”

You guide him to the bathroom right off the living room and kitchen, “You know much about plumbing?”

“I’m assumin’ you don’t,” He mutters, “What do you have goin’ on?”

You point to the loudly running toilet, “This thing won’t stop running no matter what I do.”

“Well, what have you tried doin’?”

You both stand in the hallway, you looking up at him with furrowed brows, him looking down at you with anticipation. He was quick-witted, and you started to hate how much you liked it. He gave your sassiness a run for it’s money.

“I’ve flushed it a bunch of times. Cursed at it and kicked it,” He stares at you blankly. It makes your stomach roll, “Jesus, Cowboy, can you give a girl a break?”

He enters the narrow bathroom, approaching the toilet like there may be a bomb in it. He reaches towards the handle and jiggles it violently, which makes you giggle a bit. That’s exactly what you did. 

“So, why here?” He questions, squatting in front of the bowl. He continues to mess with the handle while you process his no-context question.

“What Texas or this bathroom?”

He chuckles, his smile spreading across his beautifully tanned skin. 

“You got tons of jokes, huh?” 

You don’t respond, just shrug your shoulders. He stands up, wiggling the top of the tank off the toilet. You watch his hands lock onto the sides of it, ensuring it will not drop off and shatter on the dated tile. 

“Texas,” He strains, freeing his left hand to mess with the handle. You lean against the door frame. 

You are not even sure why Texas. You just needed to get as far as you could away from New York. You did not want your past to catch up with you, and you did not want to get stuck in a city again. But you could not share all this with a random stranger. He may be in your house, looking at your commode, but you can’t completely trust him yet. 

“I just wanted a change of scenery. I always wanted a farmhouse.”

“Lots of upkeep,” He jabs, doing one more once over of the tank, “‘M thinking you may need a new float or chain. I can get my tools tomorrow and come over to fix it. May need to order a new part, though.”

You push off the wall, arms still crossed over your front. He puts the top back on and finally makes eye contact with you. 

He would come over again? To fix your toilet? 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, ‘m sure it’s the chain or float.”

“No, I m-mean,” You start to stumble over your words. You swallow, collecting yourself for a moment so you do not look crazy to him. “Are you sure you’re okay coming back over?”

He gives you a thin-lipped smile, “What are neighbors for?”

-

His brother arrives in a rickety old truck at about 15 past 11. He looks a lot like him, but shorter. He has those same eyes though, permanently tired. 

“Nice to meet ya, ma’am. ‘M Tommy.”

You grab his hand to shake it and he lingers a bit longer than you anticipated. Joel stayed on your front porch, putting his boots back on to start unloading the furniture. 

You are thankful the weather was kind today, especially since every evening this week has been stormy. The sun was beating mighty hard on the men as they collaborated on getting your furniture inside.

While they get everything set up, you busy yourself making lunch. You get the bright idea to make them each a sandwich. It’s the least you could do. 

You pile the cold-cut turkey and cheese onto the white bread you had, topping it with some mayo. When you hear their footsteps trailing down the stairs, you race out with the sandwiches on a porcelain plate.

“For your troubles,” You say before standing in their path to the door. Tommy smiles brightly, instantly snatching a sandwich from the plate. 

“Thanks, darlin’,” He takes a big bite, humming in satisfaction. He walks around you, leaving you standing in front of Joel. His eyes are piercing, his lips ajar a bit, but nothing is coming out. 

“Turkey and cheese, I promise.”

He reaches out grabbing the sandwich from you, “No sweet tea to go with it?”

Your heart sinks, instantly becoming self-conscious of your decision to be nice to these hicks. He was so intimidating with his steely expressions and broad shoulders. There was an essence about him that did not speak to his stone-cold exterior. It was more gentle. But you could only see hints of it when he smiled. 

He can tell the wheels in your head are spinning. Before you can speak, takes a bite of the sandwich and shakes his head. 

“‘m kidding, Yankee. Thank you, I ‘preciate it.”

You settle for letting out a long sigh and returning to your kitchen. You spend a couple of minutes, putting back all the ingredients in their proper places. 

You hear Tommy yell for Joel, his voice kind of panicked. You race out the front door and see Tommy balancing your coffee table off the side of the truck. Joel is running to his aid, the dust from your driveway kicking up behind him. You hold your breath watching Joel help him balance the wooden piece of furniture. 

“Can’t have you breakin’ your back before homecoming,” Joel fusses, guiding the legs of the table to the ground, “You know damn well Maria would have me, too.”

“Yeah, what’s a homecoming game without the head coach?”

You perk up, instantly becoming interested in the conversation that you weren’t supposed to be listening in on. The two men lift the table and start heading your way, right on the threshold. 

“You coach football?” You ask Tommy, trying not to show your excitement. You loved football, it reminded you of Sundays with your grandfather. You never got the privilege to go to an actual game, even in high school. 

“Yes, ma’am, for the local high school in Taylor. We are gonna make it to the state championships this year.” 

You glance at Joel when he says it. He rolls his eyes, “Gotta win at least one game to do that, Tommy.”

They place the coffee table right in front of your new leather couch. Tommy grunts, trying not to argue with his brother in front of a strange lady. 

He can’t help himself, though. He instantly snaps back at Joel.

“You know them boys have been practicin’ day in and day out. Why ya gotta be so negative?”

Joel places his hands on his hips, “Cause Sarah told me the guys in her grade are a bunch of dummies. I highly doubt they are ready to kick Georgetown’s asses.”

Tommy starts towards the door, “Just cause Sarah says it, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“I believe my honor student daughter before I believe my dumbass little brother.”

You are not shocked Joel has a daughter. You are just shocked that she’s in high school. He looked too young to have a teen, but then again, he did have some grays sprouting. You cross your arms over your chest, watching Joel scoot the table across your hardwoods. 

You’re staring at his hands, trying to conjure up a wedding ring on his left finger. But there’s nothing. Maybe he did not wear it when he was working. Maybe he just forgot to put it on this morning. Maybe his passive aggressiveness towards you was simply to ensure there was distance between you and him, giving you subtle hints that he was taken. 

He finally glances up at you, stopping in his tracks when he notes your gaze. 

“Somethin’ wrong?”

You have no clue what to say because you are so trapped in your head about him. He’s a stranger, god damn it.

“N-no, everything is okay.”

“Don’t look it.”

“I just was not expecting the coffee table to look so dark against the hardwood,” you lie, pulling whatever you could think of out of your hat, “Doesn’t it look dark?”

Joel looks between the floor and the table, shifting in his stance, “Don’t know bout that.” 

“O-oh okay.”

“Alright, well we got ya all set up now,” He starts to head towards the entryway. You trail behind him like a lost puppy, “I’ll be by sometime tomorrow with that part for the toilet. I’m expectin’ another sandwich for that one.”

You grab your front door as you wave to Tommy as he heads for his truck. He smiles and gives you a head nod. Joel turns back to you, his ears perked up for a sarcastic jab from you.

  You think back to something he said to you earlier. You crack a smile, “What are neighbors for?”

PART 1 COMING SOON!

taglist (ppl who asked to be tagged): @joeldjarin @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @mysaviorjoelmiller @brittmb115 @missladym1981 @jasminedragoon

[artificial-transmutations]

Friday Friendship

Hey there! This one is kind of a spiritual successor to Calling the Plumber - and as such, it is one of the rare gay to straight stories of mine. While I do try to keep it friendly and without any homophobia or hate, feel free not read the story if you don't like g2s!

It was hard to overlook Montgomery and Archibald. Of course, that was always the case. But here, on the dirty construction site of their new home, the expensive silk suits of the couple stood out even more than elsewhere. Yes, the two of them were together - and they made sure everybody knew it. Not only were the two gentlemen standing in a tight hug whenever possible, but their flamboyant and colorful clothing left little doubt about their sexuality.

They were those kind of gays that conservatives were afraid of. Both were old enough to have been alive during the stonewall riots, although only Montgomery was actually there as a teenager. Still, the aged couple embodied everything the gay community prided itself on having achieved during the last decades.

Their house, too, would be a statement. The mansion was the largest construction in the area, and the most expensive one. It was going to be built on a large hill, overlooking the town, and its style was... extravagant. The house was to be built in a modern architectural style, but the two men had insisted that the walls would be entirely covered in rainbow colors, although that was still in the future by now. Surrounding the mansion would be a magnificent garden, a park even.

"My dear, are you satisfied with the construction?" Archibald asked his husband in his lime green suit. Montgomery had dyed his hair in an orange-pink tone today and wore a purple tie to his green suit. It was hardly the first building site he visited, since he had made a fortune in real estate.

Archibald, on the other hand, was a bit more conservatively dressed. His suit was a more subdued shade of beige, although his tie was of a bright sky blue color. He usually didn't dye his hair, and today was no exception: He wore the gray with pride, although he spent a fortune on hair and skin care products. He, too, had a respectable job as a top manager in a logistics company.

"Well, darling, I'm not sure yet." Montgomery replied. "I want it to look great, and the work has been good so far. But frankly, it feels that the workers motivation is somewhat underwhelming."

"I think I know what you mean, my dear." Archibald commented as they walked through the empty shell. "It is barely three in the afternoon on a Friday, and there isn't anyone around anymore. The workers must be out partying already. I can't fault them for that, but it is rather annoying, isn't it?"

"Indeed. It would have been nice if they were a little less lazy, though. The garden is behind schedule, and I believe the electrics are going to be delayed by another month."

"That is quite unfortunate."

Montgomery nodded and they walked a bit in silence. It was true. There was still a lot to do, and it looked like the workers left early for the weekend.

Finally, Archibald sighed.

"I guess I could take a look at the progress the electricians are making. I do know a bit or two about this. Maybe then we can talk to the foreman about their work. It's a pity that we cannot supervise every little thing here, but our jobs demand a lot of our time. If only we had a bit more hands-on control."

"My, what a fabulous idea! I will take a stroll through the garden then, to get a better picture there."

The husbands kissed each other on the lips as they split up and Archibald opened the fuse box. He had indeed done a bit of electrical maintenance in his prime, so he knew that what he saw in the box was nothing less than a mess. He sighed and was about to close the box again, but hesitated. No, he couldn't leave the mess like that. He would just tidy things up a bit, to show those inexperienced workers how it was done.

Carefully, he began to work on the wires, but before long, he felt uncomfortable. The fuse box was located in the bright afternoon sun, and it was just positively hot here. Still, not wanting to leave his work, he slipped out of his jacket and hung it over a nearby wall. He didn't notice that the piece of clothing disappeared once he turned away, nor did he notice that his hands became nimbler as he rearranged the wires.

Montgomery on the other hand found the garden construction even less advanced than he had hoped. Even worse, someone had left a few plants out in the heat. They would surely be dead by the time the construction continued on Monday. Montgomery couldn't let that happen. This garden would be beautiful, and no plant would die under his watch.

He carefully carried the plants to the place they were supposed to be. Of course, he knew - he had planned the park all by himself, so he knew where everything was supposed to go. As he arrived at the shady place, he understood why the plants hadn't been placed yet. The ground was wet and muddy, and there weren't any holes yet. He would need to talk to the foreman about that, but the man was surely already in the weekend as well. There was, however, a shovel nearby. Now, aside from ceremonial groundbreaking, Montgomery had never held a shovel. It wasn't that he didn't understand the concept, but he was just not the type for physical labor.

Well. He looked over his shoulder to his husband, who was apparently still busy looking at the fuse box. It seems like he had some time on his hands, so he might as well. Grimacing, he grabbed the shovel and carefully stepped on the soil, trying not to ruin his expensive shoes or pants. That worked well, for about two steps. But as soon as he tried to break the ground with the shovel, a big clump of wet soil splattered on his lime green silk pants.

Montgomery frowned. Well, that suit was ruined anyway. No reason to stop there. Determined, he pulled the shirt out of his pants and opened his vest. He wasn't going to ruin his custom tailored suit for no reason.

Meanwhile, Archie was getting into his work even more. From time to time, he had to wipe his brow, though, as he was sweating like an animal. His dress shirt was stained with multiple sweat stains already and didn't really *look* like a dress shirt anymore, but more casual. The same could be said for the rest of Archie as well. A certain youth had returned to his face, as he was concentrated on his work. This way, he didn't notice when his hairstyle dissolved into an unkempt mess or when a bit of stubble grew in on his chin. His shirt clung to his body now, drenched in sweat. It had long ceased to be a dress shirt though but had become a plain - although rather filthy - beige t-shirt. His tie was nowhere to be seen.

Due to the wetness, the shirt didn't leave much to imagination regarding his body. Not just his face had rejuvenated, no, his entire body had. He was leaner and his muscles firmer now. Out of the V-neck of his sweaty shirt poked a few golden hairs, and before long, his main hair had turned into a Nordic blonde, as well.

Meanwhile, Monty was digging like crazy. He had to get those plants in the ground, or the foreman would... Wait, what was he thinking?

He stopped for a moment, to scratch his head. Thinking was not his strong point, and Monty knew that. But he had other qualities, that made up for that. When he grabbed the shovel again, to keep digging, he heard a ripping sound that made him stop again. The shoulder of his shirt had ripped. His boss was going to kill him! Although, it appeared somewhat strange to him that he was wearing such a colorful and impractical shirt. Perhaps there weren't any other shirts left?

He looked around and saw only one of the electricians still on the site. He knew the guy, he was friendly enough. He surely wouldn't mind if Monty went shirtless for a bit. With an effort not to damage the clothing even more, he peeled out of the garment. He was only half successful with that, and a few more rips sounded before he had finished taking it off.

Monty looked down at his muscular and hairy torso. The cold air was good, and he wasn't afraid to get dirty.

With every movement of the shovel, his arm muscles tightened, and his frame filled out more. A short beard sprouted on his chin, and his now full earthy brown hair shortened to a more practical cut. It wasn't like he had money for an expensive hairdresser, after all.

Finally, he had the holes ready and wiped his hands on his sturdy pair of work pants. Now, he only had to put the plants in. Despite his impressive physique, Manny was always very careful with the flowers, and he made sure that none of the roots got damaged or that he didn't break the stem.

He looked at his work. Good, that would look great, once the plants grew. Someday, he would have a garden of his own, and a house like that. And a beautiful wife and two, no, three children. But that was still a long way to go, with his poor pay.

Someone behind him cursed and Manny looked back to the electrician.

Chad was still sweating like crazy as he worked the wires. His mates had all gone to the clubs by now and he was stuck here and had to fix the mess he had created. That was only fair, but he wished the foreman wouldn't have noticed until Monday. He had to hurry up, though. He didn't want to spend his Friday night on the site, after all. Perhaps he would even get lucky and find a guy... No, what was he thinking? Working on these fruits' house had made him all confused. No, perhaps he would find a busty bombshell to take home tonight. Chad felt his cock growing hard at the thought, creating an obvious bulge in his work pants. Great, more distraction.

Chad tried to readjust himself, just in time as he sensed the big burly gardener approach. He knew the guy loosely but had forgotten his name already - if he even had known it at all.

"Hey, everything alright with them wires?" the low voice of the brute asked in a friendly tone.

"Yeah, I just need to finish up here... Should be done aaaaany minute now..."

Manny watched Chad connect the last wires. Poor guy. His t-shirt was soaked with sweat, and he looked like he was really hot and stressed out.

"Cool. It's no fun working late, and on a Friday. Hey, do you want to hit a bar after that? I could go for a cold one."

Chad looked over his shoulder at the bear of a man. Was that guy hitting on him? Na, his face only showed dumb innocence.

He shrugged. "Sure, why not, eh..."

"Name's Manny." Manny said.

"Great. Manny." Chad said and closed the now somewhat better looking fuse box before wiping away his sweat once more.

"I'm Chad."

Manny and Chad left the building site together this Friday afternoon. Neither of them knew that they were going to become best friends over this and many more beers. Manny turned out to be a great wingman for Chad, and Chad even ended up as Manny's best man during his wedding and godfather for his first child. Sometimes the closest friendships are forged in the Friday afternoon sun of a construction site.

[thetomorrowshow]

Whumptober 6 - Not Realizing They're Injured

title: exit 73

fandom: limited life smp

cw: blood and injury

~

Jimmy whoops, high-pitched and birdlike, as they run, their feet pounding against the asphalt. “We killed that one! Those Clockers didn’t know what hit ‘em!”

“Stop talking and just run,” Grian hisses, his words choppy. “We’re not out yet.”

They'd parked the van another block down, cleverly disguised as a plumber’s van—and if anyone opened it up, a plumber’s van is all they’d find. They’d spent a good bit of money outfitting it with drain snakes and wrenches and other tools, just in case anyone decided to find their van suspicious.

Right now, they’ve just got to make it there without getting caught.

Are they being followed? Probably not, they wove through some confusing alleys that Grian had somehow known his way through, they should be in the clear. Joel doesn’t look behind himself. He just keeps running.

They round another bend, and another, and Joel tries to keep himself pretty fit, but the stitch in his side is already burning and shouldn’t they have found the van yet?

“Where is that plumbing van?” he mutters angrily. Grian shushes him; Joel scoffs. “We lost ‘em ages ago, calm down,” he tells Grian, slowing just a bit to try and relax the stitch’s pain. “Where’d we park it?”

“Two more streets down,” Jimmy calls back—because of course he’s taken the lead, with his stupidly long legs. “I can see it, just over the hill.”

Great. Two more streets.

It’s kind of embarrassing that he’s already so out of breath. He swears he works out—it’s just been a long hit. He’s been hiding out at the cargo bay for hours, wedged behind some boxes, waiting for the moment that the Clockers showed up to sign for their contraband. Then it had been some quick moments of adrenaline—a fight, flashes of knives and fists—before Grian had the papers and they ran, the sudden energy still pumping through Joel’s veins.

He’d managed to grab Bdubs’s (one of the top Clockers that was overseeing the operation) famed pocket watch off the man himself, and that should sell for a pretty penny. It was plated gold with crystal glass, so the rumor went, and Joel couldn’t wait to have a jeweler test it.

Oh, that tiny man has got to be so furious right now. . . .

“There it is!” Jimmy cheers, pointing ahead. Joel still doesn’t see it all that well through the dark, but he trusts that Jimmy knows what’s going on and just focuses on one foot in front of the other, in through his nose and out through his mouth.

Grian grabs his hand and pulls him forward, toward the van. He sees it now, with its crooked pipe art on the side, dimly illuminated by the starlight above.

Joel’s the driver, of course. The others poke fun at him for never letting anyone else drive, but he’s not going to go into or out of a mission with intense nausea, so he’s driving. He climbs up into the driver’s seat, shoves the keys in the ignition and starts driving before he even knows that Grian and Jimmy are in.

Judging by an annoyed shout, Jimmy wasn’t all the way in, but the door shuts and Jimmy rolls into the backseat, his annoyance clear in the darkened reflection of the rearview mirror.

Grian immediately reaches for the radio. Joel smacks his hand away. Jimmy leans forward, also reaching for the radio. They both smack his hand.

“No music,” Joel grits out. He’s usually high-strung after a mission like this, no real outlet for the energy flowing through him. Yet, despite knowing that he’ll be quick to anger, the others always manage to provoke him.

The no-music rule has been in place for as long as Joel’s been driver. Can’t the others stop being idiots for two seconds and let him drive in peace?

The van trundles along at thirty-five miles per hour, and Joel turns toward the on-ramp of the freeway, grimacing as that stitch in his side pulls when he presses on the gas. He can’t wait to get home and just sleep, once the adrenaline has run its course.

Grian beside him is shuffling through the pages, making a satisfied noise with every leaf he reads. “Yep. This is exactly what we were after. Good job, team.”

“They had a ton of weapon storage,” Jimmy pipes up. “They must’ve been storing stuff at their port.”

“Maybe we should put up some people to watch, see where they move it to,” muses Grian. “Now that we know it’s there, they’ll be in a hurry to pack it all up.”

“Especially now that we have the blackmail.”

“Mhm. Joel, how’d your side go?”

“Fine,” Joel says shortly. He keeps his eyes fixed on the road, even as the white lines in the darkness seem almost to float on water.

Never think that when you’re driving, his mom had told him once, when the eight-year-old Joel had pointed it out. It’ll make you sleepy.

How long was he at his post? Seven hours, maybe? That isn’t too bad. With the adrenaline still jolting through him, he shouldn’t be this tired.

“His seatbelt isn’t on,” Jimmy says, ignoring the fact that Joel is a bear that he shouldn’t be poking with a stick.

Grian clicks his tongue, leans over Joel’s entire body to grapple with his seatbelt. “Safety first,” he reprimands, dragging the belt over him. Joel cranes his neck to see around Grian.

He clicks it into place at Joel’s hip, then sits back, examining his fingers.

Which exit was it, again? 73? Well, that one’s 69. Maybe he should get off the freeway, take some backroads. He doesn’t think they’ve been followed, but there are more cameras on the freeway.

The freeway will get them back quicker, though. And it’s in the plans to go this way, he doesn’t want to change them right as the job’s wrapping up. Sudden changes in plan are the highest cause of casualties in this business.

“Joel,” Grian says slowly. “Is there blood on you?”

Joel glances over at him; Grian’s holding his hand up to the window, something dark shining on his fingers.

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “I broke Bdubs’s nose.”

“Did you get injured?”

“Here—I’ve got a flashlight—”

A light clicks on and Joel resists the urge to growl at Jimmy. No lights on in the car, first rule of driving, why is Joel the only one with a bit of sense—

Grian pulls at his shirt, lifting it (Joel tolerates it, as much as he wants to literally bite him).

A moment of tugging his shirt this way and that, of Joel’s teeth grinding as he stares at the road.

Then Grian gasps.

“Joel—shoot—someone got you—”

“Holy moly—that’s a lot of blood—”

It all catches up to Joel at once.

The anger, the exhaustion, the stitch in his side—

And Bdubs had had a knife, hadn’t he? A knife that Joel had lost track of after he’d nicked the watch.

Grian’s hand presses down right on the stitch in his side, and Joel shouts behind his teeth, hands tightening on the wheel. That—that hurts—

“Pull over,” Grian commands. “Timmy can drive. Pull over.”

“Absolutely blummin’ not,” Joel says. His stomach is already roiling, there is no way he’s going to let someone else drive. “I can make it. How bad is it?”

More painful pawing at his side. Joel bites the inside of his cheek.

“It looks deep,” Grian says. “We should call ahead, get them ready for medical attention—Joel, seriously, pull over—”

“I’ll be fine. We’re almost there, anyways.”

Subtly, he taps a bit more on the gas. Now that he knows he’s been stabbed, apparently, he can barely think through the pain. It hurts quite a bit more than it did a minute ago—and his head is starting to feel woozy—

Jimmy’s talking on the phone behind him, and Grian is digging through the glovebox—Grian withdraws a bunched-up emergency blanket (it’s not in the little package anymore, he thinks Jimmy opened it up a while back because Joel wouldn’t turn off the air conditioning) and flicks open his pocket knife, cutting a long strip off the blanket.

Grian reaches around Joel, wriggling his arm behind Joel’s back. “This would be easier if you would pull over,” Grian grunts, threading the strip of the blanket between the seat and Joel’s back.

Joel stares ahead, sweat breaking out all over his body. He might be sick, regardless of—

White hot pain bursts through Joel’s side, radiates up and pounds on the confines of his brain, stealing his vision for a brief moment. He cries out, arms jerking without his input.

“Pull over—Joel, hit the brakes and pull over!”

Joel blinks rapidly, the road fuzzing back into sight. He’s driving between two lanes, his arms luckily dragging him more toward the middle of the road rather than the median. He straightens out as best he can with his stiff, lead-like arms.

Which exit are they on? 72. Great, so the next one. The next one, the next one, the next one—

“None of this will be worth it if you crash the van,” Grian’s saying in his ear, his voice echoing around Joel’s staticky brain. “Pull over!”

Next one, next one, next one—

Exit 72 B?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Joel breathes, pressing even harder on the gas. They’re going ninety-five now, definitely too fast for this tired old van.

“They’ll be ready when we get there, I told them it was bad,” Jimmy says. Jimmy’s voice doesn’t echo quite like Grian’s, but it does sound funneled into his ear, almost like through a cardboard tube.

It isn’t bad, he wants to say. He can’t quite get his lips to move.

Exit 73.

He remembers to click on his turning signal, somehow. It seems important.

“Joel, slow down, slow down, brake brake brake—”

“Am braking, calm down,” Joel mumbles. He is, he thinks. He definitely moved his foot to the other pedal, even if he doesn’t dare look down at the odometer. He thinks if he turns his eyes down, they’ll shut.

He knows how to get back to the mansion from here, but Grian gives directions anyways. His hands are still on Joel, holding the strip of blanket tight around his gut. Joel doesn’t have the strength to argue.

Left here. Onto that country lane. Keep driving. Keep driving.

“Talk to me. Say something, Joel, stay awake.”

Joel groans. He doesn’t particularly want to talk to Grian, and right now he’s doing nothing but severely irritating him.

“’m fine,” he manages around his heavy tongue. “Stop worrying. Like my mom.”

Grian laughs, shrill and anxious. “I wouldn’t worry so much if you could put together a whole sentence! Or if you would pull over—”

“Jimmy,” breathe, “can drive—” breathe breathe breathe, “when I’m dead.”

“Might not be too far away, to be fair,” Jimmy says.

Is this what death feels like? Clammy and fuzzy and sweaty?

Joel had better not die, then, because that sounds like it would be downright hellish in more than small doses.

Geez, he’s tired. Can’t he just pass out? Wouldn’t that be nice?

Can’t close his eyes. He has to keep driving. Can’t close his eyes.

“Never been stabbed,” he says through numb lips. “Just got shot. Once.”

“Turn here,” Grian says. Joel blinks. He hadn’t realized they’d already reached another turn.

“There is so much blood we’re going to have to clean up, geez louise. . . .”

“Right, I’ll jus’ . . . stop,” snarks Joel back at Jimmy, “stop . . . bleedin’.”

“Eyes on the road,” says Grian. Joel’s eyes are on the road, though, he’s sure they are. He’s going to great lengths to keep them propped open and staring directly at the road.

“Joel, eyes open. Keep them open.”

“They are,” he insists. Grian squeezes his arm with the hand that isn’t holding the blanket, sticky and warm.

“More open than that. We’re almost there, okay?”

They are almost there. The driveway is just up ahead.

Joel squeezes the steering wheel. He’s got this. It wouldn’t be good to pass out right here, right before they make it.

He isn’t sure how he gets there, but he does. He stares straight ahead, more focusing on keeping his eyes open than he is on the road, and he pulls up in front of the doors, finally letting go of the wheel to shift into park.

It’s silent for a moment as Joel stares straight ahead, at the dark mansion ahead of them.

“Told you,” he manages, shooting what he hopes is a smirk in Grian’s direction.

Then the fuzziness coalesces into darkness entirely, and he slumps forward over the wheel and knows no more.

-

The mansion’s library was converted into something of a hospital, long ago. Joel had always disliked it—they hadn’t bothered to paint it white or anything, left the walls a deep red and surrounded by costly books and polished oak shelves and expensive wood flooring, so it just felt like some rich mad scientist’s pet project every time he walked in.

That was why he didn’t particularly enjoy waking up there.

He groans, blinks several times as the library’s ceiling comes into reluctant focus. His limbs ache, and there’s some kind of pain pulsing from his side, but it isn’t as sharp as he thinks it ought to be. Painkillers, probably.

Joel looks down, sees an IV in his arm. Yep. Painkillers.

“Are you actually awake, or just faking it?”

Joel glances over to his other side.

Grian’s sitting there, arms folded. His leather jacket lies discarded on the floor, the sleeves of his red shirt pushed up to his elbows. His sunglasses are stuck in his greasy hair, doing nothing to hide his disapproving raised eyebrow.

“Hey,” Joel croaks. Then, because his memory is a bit spotty, “We made it, right?”

Grian smacks his shoulder.

“Hey—ow! What—?”

“It’s for being a moron—both Jimmy and I are perfectly capable of driving—and why didn’t you say you were injured?”

Joel’s seen the two of them drive, and he would like to disagree on that point. The him being a moron, though . . . probably justified. “I didn’t know,” he says, in response to Grian’s question. “Really.”

Grian holds his gaze for a moment longer, irritation in every line of his face—and then his face softens, and he rolls his eyes.

“Just try not to die, okay?” he says, smacking his shoulder again (gentler, this time). “I don’t have time for a funeral.”

Joel scoffs. “I wasn’t going to die. I was fine!”

Grian doesn’t speak.

Was he—was he genuinely close?

“Well,” Joel says, deciding not to think about that. His hand not occupied by an IV fumbles into his jeans pocket, and just as he’d hoped, his fingers find cold metal. “I did grab . . . this.”

Grian’s jaw drops as he stares at the golden watch, glinting in the low light. “No way. No—you got a Clocker’s clock?”

“Better. Bdubs’s clock.”

“Oh, dear,” Grian chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re gonna be in for a lot more trouble than a pesky stab wound.”

Joel just smiles, drops his hand to his lap.

He could use another nap.

[eugenedebs1920]

The situation we find ourselves in is on account of 2 things! Democrats kind hearted, trusting nature, and Republicans lust for relevancy, power and their spinelessness.

Trump should be either, in prison/Guantanamo bay, or on trial heading towards one of those locations.

The corruption is infuriating! I’m no law scholar or a constitutional lawyer, just some dumb plumber, but the fourteenth amendment section 3 CLEARLY states:

No person shall be a Senator or Representative in Congress, or elector of President or Vice President, or hold any office, civil or military under the United States or under any State, who having previously taken an oath, as a member of Congress, or as an officer of the United States, or as a member of any State legislature,or as an executive or judicial officer of any State, to support the Constitution of the United States, shall have engaged in insurrection or rebellion against the same, or given aid or comfort to the enemy thereof.

It’s not hard to comprehend what they were articulating. It’s not hard to understand their meaning in some textualism nonsense! Simple! If you, as an American holding federal office, rebelled against or staged a coup, albeit failed or otherwise, violated the oath you took, to protect and defend, the Constitution of the United States, you are disqualified from holding any federal position again! Simple!

To say this Supreme Court isn’t partisan. To say they aren’t corrupt, can only be attested to being deaf blind and dumb, or pure partisan hackery! Shame on them! Shame on Mitch McConnell, and frankly shame on garbage MAGA! It is clear the simple minded loyalty far outweighs the Constitution to them. It is easy to see the sycophancy holds more reverence to them than their nation. The lack of foresightedness to the consequences of their allegiance to one man, one party, one view of the United States has potential to result in its downfall. For when the structures of government are burdened to the ground, in their ashes lie the remnants of democracy, with our republic wafting away like smoke from the rubble.

What will be built upon the heap of a once free and prosperous nation, will be the unqualified craftsmanship of the terrorist responsible for its demise. Raised on the flimsy ground of oligarchs and plutocrats, a foundation reinforce with the same seditionists who oversaw the demolition. With its structure made, not for the people, but for those who seek its exploitation. A decor of fascism and oppression hanging on the walls of tyranny, portraits resembling an illusion of what once was. Above head the autocratic shingles drip the rewards to its inhabitants poured down from the servitude of the constituency. This flimsy construct of a building erected for the benefit of the few, by the many, will find its supports fail time and time again, only worsening the conditions upon those whose labor constructed it.

The whole purpose of the tripartite system, the whole reasoning behind checks and balances, the entire point of the three branches of government was to prevent consolidation of power, not to enhance it! With a minority rule this has been achieved.

In their gullibility Democrats, liberals stood by assuming the structures of our Constitution would hold. Actively watching this demolition take place. Hardly putting forth a struggle against it. Their morality prohibiting the defense of democracy in some self righteous weakness against tactics of corruption not on the same grounds of that in which this code of conduct would give good grace. When one comes to dismantle the very structure of your republic you do not stand as a nail but as an iron beam. Not all can be trusted, not all have a standard of ethical conduct upon which they stand. You cannot win a boxing match when your opponent shows up with a machete.

It is the trust from the left that allowed these attacks on our Constitution to occur as much as it was demonsterous betrayal of it from the right.

[forensicated]

Smiffina Episodes: Gun Runner Part 3 - Kick Off (3/5)

Mel is not looking forward to her day policing the derby between Millwall and Leyton Orient at The Den. Uniform are confused why Smithy isn't in as a football match would be his perfect day policing.

Neil, Gina, Heaton and Max have a meeting about the match and Smithy as he will be present at the match with the rest of the gang. Gina is unimpressed however as it's been a week and there's been no progress or information and she doesn't know how safe Smithy is. Max is defensive, they know that they're waiting for a big shipment and that Smithy has been lined up to reactivate them but they don't know who is behind it - yet - or who the supplier is. That should change today as Smithy is due to meet The Big Boss at the match. Max claims they'll be able to track Smithy on CCTV throughout. Gina points out how ridiculous it is for him to be undercover so close to Sun Hill given that he could be recognised by anyone that he'd arrested at any point. Max reassures her he'll be pulled out the first sign of trouble. "He's all on his own out there!" "Not exactly, he's set up in a lovely new flat with all mod cons including the most sophisticated technology that the MET can buy." And of course Stevie as his undercover girlfriend who brings him plates of fruit for breakfast rather then bacon sandwiches (!)

Smithy's not best pleased as he's had no water for 2 days "Apparently it's very difficult to find a decent plumber round here!" He growls into the camera. Because of this he's also had a diet of takeaways. Smithy is also not happy that things are going so slow as he's been there for a week and all he has to show for it is some empty pizza boxes and a bit of stubble (there's not enough stubble for a week!)

Kieran Wallace turns up to pick Smithy up with Dennis Turner at 10am for a pub crawl before the match - complete with cans given that they're an hour early. Stevie makes herself known and takes a picture subtly of Wallace and Turner whilst kissing Smithy goodbye.

Gina tells uniform about Smithy being undercover and that there's been an unofficial warning about Orient 'welcoming home fans with a bang' that upgraded the security threat to Category C.

Will commits the cardinal sin of saying that things are 'quiet' when they're called to a local park because of children causing a disturbance. As soon as he's mentioned the Q word, a massive firework explodes right in front of their car followed by a second. "Never use the Q word - ever!!" Beth reminds him. Jason, a child, insists that he just 'found' the fireworks. Will points out that they're category 4 which is only for official use and should be carefully stored due to their volatile nature. He claims he 'borrowed' them from Ryan, his stepdad's garage. When the police check there's none there but Jason claims there were two boxes. His mum suggests that Ryan might have taken them to the match in the car. Crazy Craig's Warehouse reports that they were broken into overnight. Three boxes were stolen with one containing faulty mortar shells that are part of a faulty batch that were due to be returned - they're unstable and could go off at any time. It seems to link with the warning Borough Intelligence had about 'welcoming fans with a bang'. Heaton orders Ryan's car index and description to be sent to Gina so that he can be found on CCTV and the fireworks located sooner rather than later. Gina briefs the officers present to keep their eyes peeled. Ryan sounds like a right prince given he doesn't take his mobile to matches despite his wife being 2 weeks overdue and that he keeps Saturdays for football. And he's an Orient supporter.

Stevie has done her homework on Dennis Turner. He has previous for GBH, Assault with intent to rob, aggravated burglary and more! In a pub near the ground, Turner starts mouthing off about Stevie to Smithy who squares up to him before Wallace makes Turner back off. Wallace tells Smithy that Turner is the ammunition supplier - if he gets the job. Roger is in the same pub to ward off trouble and reminds people it's time to start finishing their drinks so they can get to the game. Turner tells him that he's not ready to leave and squares up to him. Smithy steps in and moves him on before he can start trouble and they head to the game.

In the control room at The Den, Gina and Mel are scrolling through CCTV to try and find Smithy and Ryan. Max moans about the amount of uniform officers swarming around but Gina lays it clear just how dangerous the fireworks are and that the gunpowder in them would be like letting off a bomb in the stadium without the firework even having to be lit. Then there's also the panic and stampede it would cause! Gina's already on edge after the recent bombings and tells him she won't take chances with her officers lives. Roger tells her over the radio that Smithy has left the pub and they locate him, Wallace and Turner on CCTV.

Callum has found Ryan's car and is starting to set up a cordon. The CCTV controller has an idea of where he'd be sitting from that area and starts to scan for him in the crowd. He offers to send stewards in but Neil doesn't want to spook Wallace so they put up a decoy message on the screens and over the tannoy to tell him his wife has gone into labour and to make his way to the hospital. The crowd applaud him as he makes his way to the exit where he's met by police and arrested in the carpark. Gina tells him the message was a ruse and they believe he has fireworks in his car. Ryan frowns and says he hasn't touched a firework since he was a child. Gina warns him that they could evacuate the stadium and perform a controlled explosion of his car if he doesn't tell the truth and he offers to open his boot and show them there's nothing in there. Indeed as they search the car there's nothing in the boot. Suspecting he could have them elsewhere, Gina sends him back to the station to be interviewed.

Ryan makes notes of everything in his interview, intending to sue them. Will points out he has the right to a copy of the tape and has a solicitor who would do it all for him so he doesn't need to write it down. Beth asks about the burglary of Crazy Craig's and where the stolen fireworks are after his stepson removed some from the garage. Suddenly it all makes sense to Ryan and he tells them it's likely the boys father, Travis put him up to it. He has an alibi for the time of the burglary as he was doing an emergency plumbing job and his boss and the customer can prove it. Travis is a known thief and Jason was staying with him the night before. When they return to the front office Jason has gone walkies. His mother admits that Travis has been against Ryan from the start. It's bad enough she left him in the first place but the fact that Travis is a lifelong Millwall supporter and Ryan is a Leyton Orient fan? Sacrilege!

Smithy makes his way to a seat, trying to keep his head down incase anyone recognises him. Wallace introduces him 3 other men around them. Gina is amused to find the previously-against-football Mel watching the game with interest. She's less amused to spot Jason on the CCTV looking into cars in the carpark with a crowbar in hand. Mel heads down to the carpark to frighten the life out the boy.

Unfortunately it turns out that the car is his dad's car and it contains fireworks. Gina shouts to Mel over the radio to get out of the way but one explodes before she can even respond, leaving a horrified Gina staring at the screen with Neil and Max, terrified she's lost another officer. Callum and Ben rush over and find a coughing Mel dragging Jason out of the smoke. "Mel, are you alright?" "Do I look alright? You little brat, what were you thinking?!" she growls at him. Both of them are fine, just sooty and coughing as it appears what went off was a smoke canister and not a firework. Callum asks Gina if she wants him to check if the fireworks are in the boot and she freezes for a few seconds until Callum calls her name, telling him it's too dangerous. They set up a cordon around the car and send Callum to Travis' seat - which they know as he's a season ticket holder - to arrest him and to tell him if he doesn't tell them what's in the car then they'll blow it up.

Wallace takes Smithy and the other boys to a private box to watch the match and meet The Boss. In the chaos of the smoke canister and concern for Mel it's missed by the Sun Hill officers who have no idea where he is.

Gina asks Travis Perkins what's in his car. He doesn't see what the big deal is as 'it's just some fireworks'. Thankfully it's only a few - the rest he has stored at his house. Gina arrests Travis and his son for burglary and returns to the station to sort it out, leaving Callum in charge at The Den. Travis claims it was him who stole the fireworks but none of his fingerprints match those found.

Smithy meets Big Boss who is hiding in a private box with the blinds closed despite the match being on. Smithy asks if they're going to open the blinds. "I'm not here for the game." Thankfully, Smithy has been found on CCTV entering the box and manages to talk Big Boss into opening the blinds enough so he can be seen for a few seconds and then they're closed again. Luckily it's long enough for Neil to locate him and get a picture of Big Boss alongside him.

At the station Gina still looks rattled after a long morning and tells Beth there is a charge to add on for Travis. "Disturbing the peace. Mine in particular." Beth asks her what she wants to do about Jason and Gina snaps. "Why can't someone else take responsibility around here, just for one minute?" She hurries into her office, pushing papers off her desk in anger. She's at the end of her tether and the stuff with Smithy being in unknown danger, the fireworks, what happened to Mel... it's all getting on top of her. She doesn't get a moments peace as straight away, Heaton starts ringing her and asks her to come and see him. She starts to tell him that she can't right that second until he says it's about Smithy and she goes straight up.

Stevie has found out Big Boss is called Darren Cutler and he has form for drug smuggling, manslaughter, armed robbery, kidnap and worse. Gina recognises the name but she can't place it. He's been quiet for 2 years so they need Smithy to work out what he's been up to. Gina has a bad feeling about it and thinks it's too dangerous but Heaton tells her it's not her call and they're not pulling Smithy out.

Mel asks Roger and Tony what Gina's like to work for. Roger says she's firm but fair and the best person to have onside when things kick off. Mel thinks it must be her putting her foot in it as Gina seems changeable with her as 'she was proper narky with me and Beth.' There's one slight problem to Mel's complaint however, as much as Roger and Tony try to tell her. How have the relief not learnt to look behind them when moaning, especially if it's about Gina? 😂😂

Gina follows her through to deal with Jason and his step dad. Jason has to stay to answer a few questions. but the mother goes into labour. Jason worries and blames himself for it as they wait for the ambulance and he confesses it was him who broke in to the warehouse and that his dad was covering for him. Gina worries given the large amount of blood appearing and that they're going to have to take her via the van. Hilary tells Gina that she doesn't feel any pain anymore, just tired. Gina orders her to stay awake, tending to her in the back of the van. Thankfully the baby and mum are all ok. "Ma'am, can I just say...? I think you were brilliant today. Everything went haywire left right and center and you just ploughed on. You're brilliant." Gina swallows. "No I wasn't. I was just doing my job."

Like Gina, Neil recognises Cutler's name but can't place it. Heaton admits he's not concerned about what Cutler's done but what he's about to do, especially as he's been under the radar for two years. Currently there's no obvious Wallace and Cutler link but there must be one somewhere given he's using Wallace to gather the skills. Heaton tells the others Gina wants Smithy right now because it's dangerous and Max insists he won't do that. Neil interrupts after reading Cutler's record insisting Smithy needs to be pulled out immediately. The last stretch in prison that Cutler did coincided with the time that Smithy was in Longmarsh after being set up by Larson. They might not have been on the same wing, but it was known in Longmarsh that Smithy was a police officer. Neil worries it could have been a set up from the beginning though Max and Heaton don't think so. Callum suggests Smithy's the only one who can decide so they should let him know what sort of danger he's in. Stevie suggests she give him a call as his 'girlfriend' and explain as briefly as possible.

Smithy gets himself a coffee as he speaks to Cutler and asks him where he's been as he hasn't heard of him despite Wallace saying he's a big deal. He admits to Smithy that he's been 'on a fact finding tour for the last two years'. He's found suppliers and it can be a very profitable deal for all of them all - if they've got the right skills. He asks Smithy if he's familiar with a mach 10. Cutler tells him it's a pistol and Smithy corrects him at length "and it's more machine gun than pistol." He has his doubts about the quality of the guns. Smithy promises he can do it. "You planning on starting a war or finishing one?" he asks casually. Cutler pauses, watching Smithy before telling him he thinks they've met before. Smithy shrugs, plays it cool and the subject is changed. Cutler tells him he doesn't go to war. The good business is selling to those who are already at war - to both sides if possible. "The Mach 10's are for the street." he realises. "The gangs have the cash to buy Mach 10's." "And the will to use them. It'll be carnage!" Cutler isn't bothered, saying there's always more demand. He needs people who can hold their nerve. Stevie rings. "It's the girlfriend, do you mind?" he asks before Cutler tells him to take it.

Stevie tells him that Cutler was in Longmarsh at the same time Smithy was. She asks if his cover is still solid and he says yes for now. Stevie tells him the Super wants him out incase things get difficult. Smithy plays the call as though Stevie's threatening to break up with him to cover his words, saying he needs her more than ever and she needs him and that he just needs a little more time. Stevie says it can't happen and they're going to nick Cutler after the game once he and Wallace are clear of the ground. Smithy says that's not a good idea and that he can sort it. Stevie tells him it's out of his hands and he sighs and tells 'her' to do whatever she thinks she has to. As he hangs up, Cutler has another moment of deja vu. Smithy asks him if he's been in prison. He admits he was in Longmarsh 2 years ago and that's where they'd met. Cutler isn't satisfied saying it's not a big prison so why is it only now that he's recognising him. Smithy says he was only there for 3 months on a category A remand ring for murder before he was released with all charges dropped. "Did you do it?" "No." "That's funny, I did. I pleaded manslaughter. By the time I got to Longmarsh I was downgraded to a category B." "There you go then." Smithy shrugs. "That explains it, that's why our paths never crossed."

Wallace arrives back in the box, telling Cutler there's more police milling around than usual. Cutler admits he'd rather not have the police see him and Smithy agrees "That makes two of us." He gets an idea of how both of them can get out without getting seen. They pull their hoods up and head towards the toilets. Smithy and Cutler change coats and he slips out to Cutler's car. Callum moves in to arrest him thinking it's Cutler and Smithy tells him quickly to back off incase he's being watched because he knows what he's doing. He drives out the carpark with Callum only able to call it in, Neil sends Stevie over to Smithy's to have it out with him.

Stevie points out how dangerous it is and Smithy insists he'd not have set it up if they'd listened to him. "The answer was no." "Too late now though isn't it!" Smithy shrugs, telling them Cutler has contacts with Russians and possibly Serbians who can get him Mach 10's. "They are military issue and he wants to tell them to the streets." Smithy's linked it in with Carly and says Cutler's the man who sells the guns that kills the Carly Samuel's of this world, only now he wants them to be machine guns!" Stevie tries to calm him down but Smithy won't have any of it. "I didn't ask for any of this!" he insists, saying they came to him to get it done and then he looks into the camera of the CCTV cameras. "You started it, I'm gonna finish it!"

There's a scene cut from this episode where Smithy gets p'd off at the bloke who's potentially going to be supplying the ammunition and to maintain his cover - and to make the blinds move and reveal where he is - he takes him by the throat to shut him up and stop him talking. Although it's cut from this ep - a short clip of it is included in the 'Previously' round up at the start of part 4!

[pbandjesse]

Today was a wildly long day. I don't know why I am surprised by this. But man. My legs hurt. It was actually a really awesome day. I feel happy. And very much ready for bed.

I slept pretty well. Waking up was tough but that was mostly because I was cold. James usually brings my phone to the bed since we leave them across the room to charge. But they did not today and I had to get out of bed quickly to turn off the alarm. That is alright. I was not thrilled to be awake but it wasn't to bad.

I felt really cute and good today. I was looking forward to being with the kids today and I was just having a nice morning.

But then I forgot my water bottle inside and felt very dumb. James called me from inside and told me not to leave yet because they were bringing it down to me. I really appreciated that. Love my husband.

I got to camp at 8 spent some time on the art building working on the new yarn wraps rings for our hoop and stick game. I have 12 total rings, 6 small and 6 large. I have a few so e but it is going to take a while to get them all done. But it was nice to sit and have a task.

I would go and have breakfast in the office. Answered some emails. I was surprised when everyone else was already there. Elizabeth had told us 10 but apparently everyone decided 9. Which is fine. Mostly Celia was over at nature and Nick went to get himself and Elizabeth coffee. So it was a much slower way to start the morning.

I would wander over to the lodge to make sure the bedrooms in the saltmines weren't a mess. The plumber had cut holes in the walls so I put the pieces of drywall in the closet and moved a mirror in front of the holes. So it wouldn't look terrible. And went over to the art building to get my walkie. Before heading back to the lodge to meet the group.

I ran into everyone else on the walk over. And when we got there one of the teachers was there already. She said the bus was on its way. And it would get there basically on time at 10:30. I was a little embarrassed when I walked over to help direct and I slipped on some leaves and immediately fell over in front of the bus. I joked that I lost all my street cred with the kids.

But I would get everyone off the bus and started directing everyone up the hill. I have asked Sylvia to wait at the Oregon trail sign and then Sarah went to the top of stairs and Nick would head up to the stockade building. And the kids were great. They were super organized and they got their stuff and they wandered up. I stayed behind to catch any parents who were strugglers. There were two and I made sure they were heading towards Celia. Me and Celia were making dumb jokes on the walkie the whole time. We also like to call each other on the walkie wall in the same room at each other. Being very silly.

They have about 45 minutes to go and set up their cabins and so me and Celia would go up to the art building and I got in my hammock and we just talked and chilled for a while. There was a weird smell in the art building. I think it might be the box that my games were in because it was put away a little damp. But it's fine. We mostly could ignore it.

At 11:20 we went back down to the field to meet with Elizabeth and Nick and Sarah. And the plan was to do an intro and then Nick and Sarah were going to leave a 55 child version of steel the bacon.

Andrew went fine except for the sun was so bright. And it hurt her eyeballs really bad. And no one was prepared with sunglasses. But we got all the rules down and they seemed like pretty cool group.

Still making was kind of a mess. That's just a lot of children and I felt like Nick wasn't clear enough with the rules but they played for a while and only a few of them got so angry that they quit. Overall they seem to enjoy it. Even the few that got overly angry. They were just tired and hungry I think. It was a long morning for them.

We all went back to the office for lunch after we sent them off to the lodge. They got capturing so we would wait for them to be done eating so we could also get sandwiches but all of us had snacks up back in the office. And it was nice saying I'm just chatting. I ended up talking to Alexi about a safety training she just took and telling her how it was kind of an eloper when I was a child. But I slipped up and said when I hide places now and everyone was like we heard that. And I was like I know what now when I hide and run away it's just to the art building and I tell you guys all that so I think they thought I was being silly but it is 100% true. Even at my sweet 16 I hit under a table and I think almost every single birthday party I ever had I would run and hide it somewhere. Not for long but that's just something I've always kind of done. I remember being in high school and going to a fair with Joanna and a bunch of people and immediately just blending into the crowd and leaving them. And this is before I had a cell phone. I used to tell people I didn't want a cell phone because I felt like I would be too easily contacted and then I could not hide and run away as easily. And honestly it's true.

Eventually we were able to go to the lodge and get sandwiches and they were okay. Thank you us a citrus fruit as well which I think was a tangelo but no one agrees with me that that is a real thing. But it is! It's a tangerine and pomelo together. But then Elizabeth said that she didn't wear Pamela was when I was like it's the original citrus and she didn't believe me that it was a real thing. And then the catering staff so that they were cuties but I think they were entirely too big to be cuties. But it's fine. We agreed to disagree that it was just a citrus of some kind. An indistinct citrus.

Then it was time to go break up into our groups. I was nervous. Celia was also very nervous. But we were both heading to the Glen and I had high hopes.

And honestly I was correct. Not only were the group of children I got just lovely. We had so much fun. We walked down to the Glen and one of my children pointed out a turtle on the ground. I have not seen a turtle in the wild and forever and it was so exciting and we picked him up and we all gently pet him and then I took a picture and passed him to Celia so she could show her group. And we were kind of just riding that high. I took them over to the picnic table and we went through the packet and I gave each of them a sheet of paper and sharpie and we got through all of the information and then we debriefed together. And they were really smart kids. And super on board with the learning. And we went through what the habitat was and we found all the different things in the packet that we were looking for and then once we were done debriefing they were able to explore the space. And we would go on a nice little hike up and around the loving trail which is the name of the switchback trail over there. And while we didn't find too many more critters we did find a lot of really interesting mushrooms. And funguses.

I showed them how you can roll logs and look for things and we mostly found pill bugs and worms but we did find a newt and that was exciting. And they were really down to explore and that was awesome. We used Google loans to look at what different things were and we talked about invasive species and I just had a really good time.

We headed back to the table and I explained the predator and prey game. I really don't like playing games. I'm not good at them. I don't enjoy explaining rules. But they were really into it and they let me read the paper at them so it ended up working way better and they really loved it and we were able to spend most of the hour just going through and playing that game a few times and it was really good. They did a really good job actually playing by the rules and not cheating and I just appreciated that. They had to hide up in the bushes while one child pretended to be the predator and had to close their eyes for a minute and they had one minute to hide and then she had one minute to try to find them just from standing in her spot. And then they had 30 seconds to move closer to her while she wasn't looking and then she had 30 seconds to try to find them and then they have 30 more seconds to get closer and she had 30 more seconds to try to find them. And some of the kids did not get found it was really cool. For the last round I was the predator and it was hard to call them out cuz I didn't know their name still but I did find a few of them. And it was just really fun sitting on the ground and counting and then trying to find them.

Once you're done we circle back up at the table and I told them how much I appreciated them being nice to me because the last group that I had this program with was not very nice and they were so mad about it. They were like what You're so nice though why were they not nice to you and I was like I don't know They just work not nice to me and then one of them told me I was really cool and that made me feel. And so I told them that because they were so chill we were going to go and try to pet the horses.

So we took the trail back up the hill and over to the field and there was only one horse right there and they ran at him so he ran away so I had to get them to calm down even though they were so excited to see the horses and five or six of them came over and we were able to feed them hey and pet them and the kids honestly did not want to go and do anything else because they love horses so much. I do not blame them, the horses are great.

But I also wanted to keep us on time so we would say goodbye to the horses and went over to ground elements.

And they did a pretty good job over there. They had 54 seconds on the wheel watcher. And after They stop yelling at each other they were a great team. And be able to get the first two eggs for a kiss finger. I did have to help because a couple of children needed a break but I was really proud of them. We were not able to get the tallest one but I don't know how some of the groups do it so easily because we could not get it that high. We were very close but it was not going to go all the way up. I was was a little exhausted by the end of it.

I think them again for being so sweet and then we say goodbye. And I sent them off to go do archery tag and I waited for the next group.

The next group is coming from Elizabeth who taught them archery and she accidentally told them they were going to low ropes and I was no no this is my group. And I called her and we were able to sort it out and it was all fine. This group was a little rough. They were very mean to each other. They were fine with me but they were screaming at each other a lot and that was tough. At first I thought it was because this one kid was a bully but I think he was being boisterous because the other kids were very much not nice to him. It was kind of a tough situation but we got through it and they were able to get 48 seconds for whale watcher and they were able to do Buddy walkers and then they wanted to play on the team wall but I didn't want to run that as an activity I just let them climb it. And we got through it and I was ready to be done.

I walked them down to the field and went up to the airport building to collect my stuff. I let Elizabeth know that I couldn't stay much later because I was supposed to go meet James at the museum for the opening of the exhibit and after stopping in the office to say goodbye I got my car.

I did give myself a little for anxiety when I had left some stuffed animals outside of the art building because I'm trying to get rid of them and one of the kids that he would like one to use as a pillow but then all of the kids wanted them and I was already leaving and I couldn't go back and I feel so bad that I did not get all of them stuffed animals. But I have a bunch in the art building I want to get rid of so tomorrow I'm going to offer them and we'll see what happens. But then it made me upset because I feel bad that some of the kids were essentially left out but I will try to make it up to them tomorrow. And everything will be okay.

I drove to the museum and it was a pretty solid drive out. I had good music. And at 6 I arrived.

I was excited to see James and I was excited to see the exhibit. I talked to Meril and Kristen for a bit and then went to see the exhibit and it looks so good!! I'm very excited about it. And the event was very well attended. I got to eat pretzels and beer cheese and talk to Debra and Meril for a while and then enjoy the remarks and the music. And then joined James at the desk. I was tired and ready to leave but we had to wait a while.

So in the mean time I enjoyed catching up with Auni and Jessica and it was just really nice to see everyone. We had many more pretzels. Going home couldn't come quick enough.

We would get the all clear to leave. I was able to snag some stickers and a flyer for a square dance party that is happening for Halloween that now I want to go to. And then we headed home.

When we got back I cuddled Sweetp. And while I was standing there I got a surprise in the form of my pet loach, kitty kitty. I thought he was dead!! I haven't seen him for literally months!! But there he was and he looked bigger. But very quickly he was back in the rock structure. I'm glad he's alive. And seemingly doing well.

I got a shower and washed my hair. Which is risky because it looked so good today but also was slightly oily at my crown. But it needed to be done. Annoyingly though we are at the time of year where I have to rush the end of my shower because we lose hot water to fast. But it's fine I am clean and that's all I care about.

And now we are in bed. Being cozy. I might get up to paint my toes but I am mostly interesting in being horizontal.

I am with my group again tomorrow. And I hope it goes well. I'm looking forward to a nice day.

So wish me luck. And be safe. I love you all. Goodnight!

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Importance of Water Leak Detection in Oklahoma City, Moore, Yukon, Edmond, Nichols Hills, and Warr Acres, OK

The constant sound of dripping water can get on one’s nerves, leaving the individual jittery and ill. Again, a sudden spurt in electricity and water bills may seem unfortunate. Luck does not have any role in such circumstances. Instead, it is a sure-shot sign of water leaks in the property that have remained relatively unnoticeable. There is no room for guesswork, though. The homeowner cannot wait endlessly for the problem to be detected without intervention. Hiring professionals well-versed in water leak detection in Oklahoma City, Moore, Yukon, Edmond, Nichols Hills, and Warr Acres, OK, is advisable. ​ Although using such a service will not be free, the costs will not prove to be a burden when multiple advantages become possible by perfecting the detection of leaks at specific points on the property.  Some of the gains that the consumer is sure to find include the following:-

· Money Saver- Paying for a service and saving money simultaneously seems like an oxymoron. Still, it is true. The age-old adage of little drops making an ocean can come true when the leak is not detected early enough. On the contrary, immediate detection can help the property owner benefit by being able to prevent the following problems:

l Expensive repairs for structures damaged by water l Huge water bills for water flowing away through the drains without being used l Mold development in dam areas of the home that require costly remediation

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[iam-back]

Super Mario RPG playthrough diary - 40

Below here be spoilers!

Alright, 5 against 1 - a plumber, a cloudbaby prince, a light-mote possessing a doll, a princess, and a king v.s some hairy tyrant with a hammer.

It's a decisive battle and indeed a war between wishes and weapons. Bitchin' music, too!

This guy's a tough nut to crack. And his Smelter, too!

Throughout the fight he'll create random helpers with AOEs to fit their motif. ...Should I say just Shypers.

Destroy that first, and you're Gucci-golden!

...Op, Mario's down.

Anyway, I healed a bunch - now I won against good old Smithy!

At this point the foundation falls and we're thrust into phase 2, where the music becomes crazy and chaotic and he unleashes his true form after we were only shown the earlier form for like 2 minutes.

"Meanwhile, the fight is not over." "What!?" "True form activate."

...Well, his head changed. In fact, that's the name of the game here. His head will periodically cycle through a few forms - a tank for physical attack, a coffin containing the late Pink Panther for defense, a penis wizard man for magic, and a treasure box for status ailments up the wazoo.

Princess Peach is your best bet.

Oh God, tank mode.

His body works more like Exor's eyes - if you damage it enough it'll temporarily be unable to attack.

Next up he changed to penis-wizard mode.

No Magnum yet - just a bunch of Bullet Bills and stuff.

Apparently it's not a weird mouth under the hood - it's his little crown!

Next form! It's... This.

This mode is dedicated to defense - or defence, if you're British. It's immune to magic, so you'll be sorry if you wasted your Ultra Flame on that.

Oh God no, tank again. OH SHIT THERE'S MAGNUM AND IT KILLED GENO BECAUSE I DIDN'T REACT FAST ENOUGH

Penis wizard man again. Mario's down. So's Mallow.

Everyone keeps dying - time to send in tanky old Bowser.

Not the tank again!!! I wanna see the treasure box!!!

I blocked the Magnum!

Anyway, here's the last form - the treasure box full of status ailments.

I was meaning to save those Rock Candies during the Smithy fight, and look where I am!

Whew. Only ~1,300 HP to go. And they kept the status screens as eyestrain as ever.

Finally got that Healing Rainbow up and running.

And there! The last hit! I did it! FINALLY!

He's finished! Done for! Kaput! Over the hill! Shalom!

Now that Geno's left his host body and returned to space, let's gather'round and find out what became of everyone.

Todovsky has an orchestra.

Gaz and Geno reunited.

Croco joins the Mushroom Derby.

Valentina is trying to marry Booster.

The Starslap serenades everyone.

Johnny's just there. Who is he, Proto Man?

Mallow's on stage as the rightful heir to the Nimbus throne. I like to think that afterwards, Nimbus Land and Tadpole Pond form an alliance.

Bowser's fixing up the castle.

Plus, Punchinello showed up at the end! Proving that he's alive and not dead!

Also, the credits have gone all retro. This is either cute or lazy, depending on your sliding scale of idealism v.s cynicism.

Right around Johnny's section they've spiced up at night with parade lights.

[findinghomes]

In honor of my very horrible time-keeping abilities, here’s a (very, very) rough draft of one of my two current longer projects. This is part of @bottleofchaos’s amazing fairytale collab and is a very odd combination of sleeping beauty and the concept of awakening a sleeping king

-

At the top of a hill overlooking the sea was a house. It was tall, tilted at odd angles and only another decade or two from completely falling off its stilts to the ocean below. It was painted a bright green, its paint flaking off in certain places to reveal wind-torn and salt-worn wood.

Every step creaked and voices echoed, but it was home to its two twenty-something occupants (and their cat) in only the way half-broken things were meant to be studied or fixed.

George, the oldest and first occupant of the house, often spent his days angrily tinkering with the wifi router, his curses and pacing enough to fill the empty spaces of the house.

And Sapnap, still unused to not running the sink at the same time as the shower or boarding shut the shutters in advance of oncoming storms, mainly stayed out of his way, instead going through the boxes they found in the attic.

(And Patches, the smartest of the bunch, spent her time going between the two and the window, where she would watch the tides.)

It began like any other Wednesday: a battle for the single functioning bathroom (the other still needing a call to the plumber), with Sapnap winning and George threatening to kick him out or find the master key.

“If you unlock this fucking door, I will make your life hell,” Sapnap yelled through the door. “I know where you sleep.”

And George sighed, letting his head fall back against the blank wall opposite the bathroom. He was framed by two bedrooms, Sapnap’s door cracked and his own left wide open in his hurry to slip into the bathroom before Sapnap.

He really needed to make the call to the plumber and fix the broken handle of the back door and pull the boxes from the attic and…

But he didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, he tried to fix the stupid wifi router, like that was easier than accepting he had moved to the middle of nowhere with nothing.

The latch on the door was loud as Sapnap opened the door, peering tentatively out, his toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

“You didn’t insult me back,” he said.

A small part of George warmed at this—at Sapnap’s unusual way of checking in with him. “I thought it would be too much of a low blow, but I can if you want me to.”

“You’re a fucking dick,” Sapnap said, laughing. And the door shut again, though the lock never turned.

“Clean your fucking room,” Sapnap shouted. “You put hurricane season to shame.”

And for the first time, George laughed back, though he smothered the noise so Sapnap couldn’t hear. He made sure to slam his door closed on his way to the kitchen, turning on the faucet just so he could hear Sapnap yell about the water pressure, creating some creative new insults that George added to the whiteboard on the fridge titled George is a dick.

It was a Wednesday, just like any other Wednesday or Friday or Monday.

WAIT!!!! HAPPY ST MARKS EVE

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[nicksmith9599]

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[elisela]

if your still accepting requests and it hasn’t been taken, could you do grey sky + sterek + fluff or angst please 💕

pattern derek x stiles, post-canon also on ao3

---

If anyone asks Derek how he happened to end up living in the same city that Stiles did after nearly ten years of being out of touch, he tells them it was a coincidence. He’d left Beacon Hills around the same time they all did, lived with Cora on and off for some time, decided on Colorado for the accessible wilderness and was just as surprised as Stiles was to walk into a coffee shop one morning and see him standing there.

(The truth looks a little more like Derek keeping tabs on both Stiles and Scott no matter where they go, but he’s been removed from it enough that he knows it won’t get back to either of them, so that—the slight overprotectiveness, the worry—is something he’ll take to the grave.)

(It’s ingrained in him, he’ll admit, if he’s ever forced to say it. He can live without a pack, without having those ties to someone, but he’ll never truly be settled. And though the truth is that he never wants to set another foot in Beacon Hills again, if the situation was reversed and Stiles was the one still living there, he still would have chosen him over Scott in a heartbeat.)

Manufactured run-in aside, Derek didn’t have any further plans when it came to Stiles. The knowledge he was close would have been enough; his scent lingering in places Derek could visit, the edge of his laughter. He’d offered up his phone number and had been prepared to leave it at that, but Stiles at nearly thirty was both a completely different person and utterly the same, smiling a little softer at Derek but still displaying the same dogged persistence by showing up at his house later that night. Derek hadn’t asked him how he got the address and Stiles didn’t offer the information, just walked in with a pizza box in hand and said “Have you tried Audrey Jane’s? It’s the best, dude,” and didn’t leave until well past midnight.

That was two years ago. Any awkwardness has since melted away—and there had been plenty of it, moments when Derek would shut down and lock himself in his house, times Stiles would become irritable and snap meanly at him until Derek snapped back, at which point he’d look like someone tore his beating heart from his chest and treat Derek with kid gloves, which Derek hated almost as much—and in its place is just an easy companionship that Derek hadn’t ever hoped to have.

“So,” Stiles says, cringing as he flops back against the couch, “my house is flooded. Was flooded? I guess it happened a few days ago. I gotta go see how extensive the water damage is.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “Margie said you had a leak, not that the house was flooded,” he says, glancing at the phone to remind Stiles that he could in fact hear every word of the conversation. Stiles waves his hand as if that distinction isn’t important, and Derek shakes his head and looks back down at his paper. “Well, go check it out then. Let me know if you think I can fix it or we can call a plumber when you get back.”

Stiles doesn’t move or make a sound, which is—odd, really, considering Derek had expected him to start negotiating for Derek to come along with him instead of waiting for a call. But Stiles is just looking at him, studying him, almost, with such concentration that his forehead is creased. “I haven’t been home in weeks,” he says, eyes flickering all over Derek’s face like he’s waiting for a cue. “If I didn’t keep forgetting to cancel the cleaning service I wouldn’t have even known.”

He hasn’t really been home in longer than that, but Derek doesn’t point it out. His guest room hasn’t been fit for guests since Stiles took it over months ago, when winter was gradually letting up into spring and the snow was finally melting. It’s been at least half a year since Stiles spent any time in his own house that wasn’t just stopping by to grab things he needed, and Derek is more than okay with having his single pack member constantly in his space.

“I turned down a date today,” Stiles says abruptly, sitting up straight and twisting; it’s so far from the conversation that Derek thought they would be having that he sets down the paper he was marking and gives Stiles his full attention. He has a—complicated relationship with the idea of Stiles in a relationship; he wants him to be happy, he wants him to find someone to spend his life with and have kids with and all those other things that he knows Stiles wants, but he’s also fairly certain that Stiles and his future partner aren’t going to want him hanging around as often as he’d like to be around. He doesn’t think he’s ever made that known, however, and Stiles has turned down dates from people he wasn’t interested in before, so he’s not sure why he’s hearing it now. “I told her I had a husband. Like—unintentionally. She asked me out and the first thing that came out of my mouth was ‘sorry, I have a husband’.”

Derek stares back at him. “That would be hard to take back,” he says slowly, still trying to figure out the point of this story. The other deputies have teased them about being life partners since Derek started coming into the station at odd times, an in-joke that grew when Stiles would invite people to visit at Derek’s house, with every time Derek called while he was at work to tell him he wouldn’t be home for dinner or to ask if he needed anything from the store. “If you explained—”

“I don’t want to explain,” Stiles says, looking tired all of the sudden. “That’s not the point.”

“I don’t know the point,” he admits.

Stiles’ shoulders drop a little as he sighs. “My point is that I think I’d like the husband,” he says, and although his voice is soft he’s still looking at Derek more intensely than he normally does. “Only with more—husbandly things. If that’s something you would be interested in.”

Derek breathes in through his nose, picks up the scent of anxiety and hope, takes in the grey sky outside and the glow of the Christmas tree set by the fireplace that throws a multitude of colors around the rooms as it blinks merrily. “I already put a roof over your head, what more do you want?”

There’s a moment when he thinks Stiles will bristle at the joke but after a few seconds where all Derek can hear is the pounding of his own heart he smiles, pressing his mouth closed to hide it. “Your ability to have dinner on the table when I come home leaves something to be desired,” he says, flopping back down like all his strings have been cut, cheek smashed into Derek’s bicep. “And I always thought if I had a smokin’ hot husband that he’d be shirtless a little more often.”

“Should have moved somewhere warmer in that case,” Derek responds, reaching back for the stack of papers he’s supposed to be grading. “Go check the house. I’ll make sure dinner is done when you get home.”

“I swear to God if it’s frozen burritos—” Stiles starts, shoving off him and to his feet, leaving the threat hanging empty between them. There’s a heartbeat and then Derek feels his chin being tilted up and Stiles kisses him, a soft press of their lips together that makes his breath catch in his chest at the gentleness imbued within it. It’s not sparks or fireworks, it’s a warmth growing in his chest, a settling of his heart; it’s perfect, because Derek’s never trusted things that burn, anyway. “Be back in an hour or so.”

He spends another five minutes on the couch after Stiles leaves, ostensibly grading a paper but really just staring at the words as they blur in front of his eyes until he can’t take it anymore and sets the whole stack aside to deal with in the morning. It doesn’t take long for him to kick into gear—he throws the casserole dish of shepherd’s pie he’d prepped in the morning into the oven, rearranges his dresser and closet to fit Stiles’ clothes in alongside his, and starts looking up marriage licenses and rings, because if Stiles is offering forever then Derek is damn sure going to take him up on it. He pulls his shirt up over his head when he hears the cruiser coming up the drive just because he can, and is dishing out food shirtless when Stiles walks through the door.

“You’re not freaking out,” Stiles says, eyes roaming over his body as he leans against the kitchen doorway. “Why aren’t you freaking out? Why are you agreeing?”

He’d thought there’d be a little more time before Stiles started getting anxious, but he’d known it was coming. “You want me to freak out?”

“No,” Stiles says, narrowing his eyes, “I just don’t know why you’re not. Granted your freaking out looks a lot like glaring at everything and not saying anything so you might have done that while I was gone—”

“I moved your things into my room,” he interrupts, and Stiles’ mouth drops a little. “There’s nothing to freak out about.”

“So you were just .. expecting this,” Stiles says, suspicious expression giving way to something more confused. “Because I didn’t even know what I wanted until this afternoon but I guess it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that you knew before I did what with all the enhanced abilities, and I guess I could see you not saying anything because you do like to occasionally fall into bouts of epic man-pain—”

“I wasn’t expecting anything,” he interrupts before Stiles can really get going and manage to insult the both of them to the point that they don’t want anything to do with one another for the rest of the night. He carries the plates to the table and motions for Stiles to sit. “You, here—that’s what I want. Why would it bother me if you were offering more?”

Stiles pauses with his hand on the refrigerator; Derek can’t see his expression, but he can hear the way his heart thumps wildly for a few moments until Stiles’ shoulders rise and fall with an exaggerated movement that belays deep breathing. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Derek Hale,” he says finally, dropping a bottle of sparkling water on the table before sinking down in his chair.

“Well, that’s probably always been true,” Derek says, and grins back when Stiles snorts and kicks him under the table. “Eat your dinner. It’s not very husbandly of you to turn your nose up at my hard work.”

[plumbnewm-blog]

Newman Plumbing

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Address: 24 Jackson Avenue, Mont Albert North, VIC 3129, Australia Phone: +61 418 328 767 Website: https://www.newmanplumbing.com.au

[hybridempress]

See, I've seen a lot of people, when talking about the whole Chris Pratt Mario situation, say that obviously they had to replace Charles Martinet with a different actor. Sure, yeah, Charles has been voicing Mario AND Luigi AND Wario AND Waluigi AND a multitude of other voices in the series since the early 90s, but he only records a few lines per game, there's no way he could record two hours worth of dialogue in his Mario voice. And this reasoning is just beyond stupid to me! It literally does not make any sense at all!

I've had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Martinet before. He comes to anime and pop culture conventions in my state fairly often. I've heard him, in person, tell the story of how he got the part of Mario back in 1990. He crashed the audition. He heard about the audition from someone else and decided at the last minute to show up unannounced and ask if he could read for the part. They said "sure" and told him he was going to be an Italian plumber from Brooklyn New York. So he came up with a voice on the spot for Mario (meaning it had to be something that was fairly easy for him to do, that he didn't need a lot of prep or practice for) and just talked. He just talked and talked and talked. He talked for five or ten minutes and then paused and asked the people he was auditioning for if they wanted him to stop. They said "no, this is great, keep going!" So he kept talking, and he talked for so long in his Mario voice that they ran out of film for their camera. And he was the only person who had auditioned that day that could do that! He was the only person who could talk long enough during the audition that they felt good about it! They literally called Nintendo HQ while he was still in the building and gave him the job immediately!

This is a story he likes to tell a lot. It's on his wikipedia page. There are videos of him telling this story at conventions and interviews and whatnot. Look it up.

Now, naysayers may also say "But oh, that was 30 years ago, there's no way he could sustain his voice for that long I mean imagine the toll it must take on his vocal chords." And THAT baffles me even more because what the hell do you think a VOICE ACTOR is??? You think the MARIO voice is a strain on the vocal chords? What about Donald Duck? Donald Duck's original voice actor Clarence Nash voiced the character for 51 YEARS. His current voice actor, Tony Anselmo, has been voicing him since 1985 (and I've met him too, by the way. He autographed my Ducktales box set!). That's what voice actors DO. They train their voices, learn how to take care of them, so that they can keep voicing their beloved characters for 50+ years. And especially when it comes to someone like Donald Duck, or Porky Pig, or Mario, their original voice actor brings so much of their personality and character to life. Most voice actors who have been around that long, voicing the same character for that long, get a lot of say in what happens to the character--what is seen as being "in character" versus totally unbelievable. And they take so much damn pride in their work.

So yeah, to not have even considered Charles Martinet for the character whose voice he originated is literally nothing but disrespect and the stupidest choice they could have made for the movie, especially casting not even another voice actor but CRISP RAT, and that's a hill I'll happily die on.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Video Games

Alien: What is this game about? Human: It’s about being a soldier in a war that reduces you to nothing more than a cog in a larger machine ever churning onwards regardless of any personal dilemmas the characters have. Alien: And the chainsaw guns? Human: Oh those are just frickin bad ass. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: I feel this game’s title is misleading. Human: Why do you say that? Alien: Because every enemy and character you meet in game is either screaming, shouting, or loudly yelling. Human: How does that make it misleading? Alien: This is clearly not a silent hill. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: I feel terrible for this pac-man. Human: Why do you say that? Alien: He must keep devouring pills to keep the ghosts of his past from getting him and destroying any semblance of a hopeful future. Human: .......... Human: On one hand I think you’re reading way too much into it, and on the other you’re about to make me feel sad for pac-man which has never happened before in my life. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: This commando is amazing! No wonder you’re military is so good when you have augmentations such as this. Human: Yeah. It’s even more impressive when you take into account his robot arm is made out of his wife. Alien: *Drops controller* Alien: WHAT?!?! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: I challenge you to a battle with this game! Human: *Sees game, smiles* Human: A classic for sure, but I’m the best at it. To be fair I’ll let you pick first. Alien: I pick Oddjob. Human: You son of a- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: This game is too complex! Human: Why do you say that? Alien: You must manage your resources, military, population capacity, and research all while fighting other player’s armies! Human: It’s easy once you get the hang of it. Alien :Only the insane would play these strategy games! Human: Well why do you think we keep winning every space war!? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: How do you play this “minesweeper”. Human: It is a secret my people have long since lost. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Human: Would you like to play some Mario? Alien: No. Mario is a terrible person and I hate them. Human: That’s a bit harsh. Why do you think that? Alien: He’s a plumber that never does their job! When was the last time you saw him unclog a pipe? --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Human: You sure you don’t want to play? It’s a great game.  Alien: *Watches in horror as they play Halo: CE*  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: So this is a team based survival game? Human: Correct. Alien: And everyone is trying to escape their terrible situation. Human: Indeed. Alien: What if one of them can’t keep up? Human: Then I guess they’re *lowers sunglasses* left for dead.  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: Why do animals like dogs and horses hardly ever die in your games. Human: In video games they only have one weakness. Alien: What is that?  Human: The plot.  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Human: How are you enjoying the game. Alien: It is nothing more than an alien dating simulator.  Human: So...... Alien: It is wonderful! Human: Thought you might like it. Human: Fair warning though. If you make Tali or Garrus cry I will break your spine.  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Human: How are you en- Human: (sees alien not touching the controller) Human: What’s wrong? Alien: I do not like this. The bad humans won the war.  Human: (sees game. sits down next to them.) Alien: The things they do to people that look different....that don’t believe what they think.... Human: I know buddy. They did terrible things.  Human: But that’s part of the reason you can’t stop playing.  Alien: (looks at human) Human: The game is about fighting the bad people. If you stop fighting them, then they will win and do even more terrible things.  Human: (puts hand on alien’s should)  Human: And you don’t look like the kinda person that’d just sit back and let that happen.  Alien: (nods, picks up controller) That’s not me.  Human: (Smiles) Damn right. Now go kill some fucking nazi scum.  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: What is the point of having a gun in this game if the enemy can kill you with a simple kitchen utensil!?  Human: You got it all mixed up. The frying pan is the most powerful weapon, not the gun. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: Are all you subway tunnels filled with giant monsters?!?!? Human: Only the ones in Jersey.  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Human: Did you win the war yet?  Alien: I haven’t even started it. Human: but it’s been three hours. What have you been doing? Alien: I’m trying to get my knight to fall in love with my mage but the stupid archer keeps getting in the way.  Human: I see you’ve discovered the real enemy then.  Human: Love triangles.  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Human: You sure you’ll be able to play this alone and in the dark? Alien: I’ve been to your offspring entertainment areas. I have nothing to fear from them at night.  Human: Suit yourself. (Leaves) (Next day) Human: So how’d it- Alien: KEEP THE DOORS CLOSED! THEY CAN’T GET IN IF THEY’RE CLOSED! Human: (under breath) probably shouldn’t tell them about the forth game when they pop out of the closet..... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Human: You don’t seem surprised by the fighting game.  Alien: In truth most of the universe thinks you humans actually hold such death tournaments.  Alien: The only surprise was coming here and finding out you actually don’t.  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alien: Friend human! I have discovered the secret to beating your video games! Human: Really? What is it? Alien: They are called “Loot Boxes”. Human: Mother-of-god; they’ve gotten you too! --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Human: What do you think? Alien: I think you humans have it backwards? Human: How so? Alien: Most of your games have aliens attacking your planet. Human: And? Alien: Do you realize how many planets you human’s have invaded in the last month alone?  Human: (ponders, then realizes something) Human: So did you cut us open as well for research on how to defeat us? Alien: At first we did, but then stopped when we realized you are either indestructible or killed by slipping on soap. It was one or the other and was very frustrating. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  Alien: Help! I’m being chased and don’t know what to do! Human: Just sit on that bench. Alien: How will that help!? Human: Trust me. Alien: (Has character sit on bench, watches in amazement as pursuers pass by) Alien: How did that work?  Human: We humans are often blinded from what’s right in front of us.  Alien: You can not be serious. Human: Yesterday I spent a whole hour looking for my keys before I realized they were on a bungee cord on my wrist. You alien’s give us too much credit.