#local handyman list

[amenifyusa]

What You Should Analyze While Looking for Professional Handyman Services?

Handyman is a person that deals with common repairs problems around the home. These problems can include maintenance work, odd jobs, fix-up tasks that include both interior and exterior maintenance. Many times a handyman is certified in other tasks as well like plumbing, electrical, carpentry etc. In this blog we will cover some points that you should check before hiring a professional handyman services. Read more.

[baronessvonglitter]

Daddy Can Fix It

handyman!Joel Miller x fem!plus size!Reader

Word count: 5.4K

Summary: All the housewives in your neighborhood rave about the local handyman. And with very good reason.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Reader is plus-size, wears dress and lingerie, has hair and body hair, and manicure. Reader's age not mentioned so there is only as much or as little of an age gap as you'd like. TW - fat shaming, food shaming, infidelity (by reader, and it's technically warranted) Pet names (daddy for Joel; sugar, darlin', baby, sweetheart for reader). Housewife/trad-wife vibes. Totally a bored housewife fantasy. Mention of female masturbation. Breast/nipple play, oral (f & m receiving). Fingering. Body worship. Pussy pronouns. Unprotected piv (Joel is snipped, but still.. this is fiction). Light spanking. Rough sex. Creampie. Joel's kind of a big ol' slut for the lonely housewives but is also really useful around the house, so you're definitely getting a good deal 🛠️

Author's note: it's been a hot minute since I've written a one-shot for Joel but it was impossible to resist. It all started because of this pic:

so yeah, Pinterest strikes again. How could I not write a Joel fic based on this? I hope y'all enjoy 💖

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"He can come clean my pipes anytime."

Raucous laughter erupts from the group of ladies huddled near the cupcakes at the latest book club meeting. You listen from the other side of the room where one of the older members is asking you to help her with her Kindle. "I never know how to keep up with all this fancy technology," Marion huffs, adjusting her bifocals.

You're trying to be patient with her, but the conversation across the room is far more intriguing. "It just needs to be charged. Your battery is low," you say three times before Marion can even hear you.

When you've managed to extricate yourself from her, you go up to the ladies and, with a friendly smile, join in. "I couldn't help overhearing."

Some of the women exchange glances, as if deciding to let you in on their convo or not. "Becky's just showing us that she got her kitchen cabinets redone," someone finally pipes up.

"That's not all she got," another starts to crack up.

You look at Becky's phone screen. The before and after shots of her cabinets are nothing short of miraculous. "That's great, Becky! I know you've been asking Gerald for a renovation for awhile," you tell her, hoping she'll be pleased you remember the plight she droned on about for weeks.

"It is great," she says, eyeing you with something like suspicion. "I have a very good handyman."

"He does everything," a nicer girl, Isabelle, chimes in.

"Boy does he," another mutters, hiding her smirk behind her cup of lemonade while the others giggle behind their hands.

Amirah adds, "He varnished my dining room table, power washed my driveway, helped organize my garage," she counts on her fingers. "He's good for little things around the house, and his prices are decent."

"It's like he's just giving it away," Becky says with a smirk and this gets the group laughing again.

"Maybe you can give me his information later," you say politely. "I have a laundry list of things that I need help with now that Wesley's working so much overtime."

The women eye one another, and it's Amirah, the leader of the group, who gives the definite nod. "Of course, sweetie. After the meeting."

"Great!" Smiling, you try to make your way through the group, saliva pooling in your mouth at the tower of red velvet cupcakes on the table spread. You reach for a couple more.

"You've already had three," Becky reminds you, casting a not-so-subtle glance at your body. Her voice sweet as honey but her words carry poison. You know you're not as thin or as glamorous as the other women in this room. You dress the same as them, wear your hair perfectly coiffed and your nails are always manicured, but just because you're not a size zero they deem you unworthy to truly be one of them.

You hold your head high with what little courage you have in the face of Becky's bitchiness, your sinful little cupcake in your hand. "I actually had three. And right now I'm about to make it five," you say sweetly, licking a swipe of cream cheese icing before putting two cupcakes on a china plate and going back to your seat.

That night, Wesley doesn't ask about your book club. He doesn't ask how your day was. He doesn't do much except pour himself a drink when he gets home and sit in front of the TV to watch the news.

You're dressed for bed, a modest robe over a red silk babydoll chemise, a purchase you'd made on a whim in the hopes that you could spice up your sex life with him which, truth be told, has never been more than lukewarm from the start.

"Do you think we should.. go to bed?" you suggest, a naughty tone to your whisper.

"It's early," he grunts, barely giving you a glance.

"I just thought we could spend some time together.." you brush your hand across his knee but he impatiently swipes it away.

"Please, darling, it's a weeknight," he looks at you as if you'd just suggested a threesome with him and the milk man. As he leaves the room he looks back at you, but the hope that rises in your chest is soon shattered when he shakes his head upon seeing your lingerie. "Red is for streetwalkers," he tells you before he goes into his study.

Daddy Can Fix It

You run your finger over the business card Amirah gave you, with all the handy man's information. The card shows his white company van with the logo emblazoned on the side: Joel Miller, Handyman At Your Service so it says in black lettering. There's a phone number and a website as well.

You dial the number, expecting to hear a secretary's voice, but you're greeted with a rich, baritone "Good mornin', thanks for callin' Daddy, what can I fix for ya today?"

Jesus, the voice alone is enough to get you flustered. And Daddy? You weren't expecting that. "Um, hi, I got your number through a friend and I'd like to see if you're available to come mow the lawn today." You peek out your curtains, seeing how the grass has grown taller than you'd like since the last time Wesley has cared enough to cut it.

"You got a lawn mower, sugar?"

"Yes, I do, um.. daddy.."

You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. "You can call me Joel."

"Joel. Yes, I do. Is there anything else you'll need?" New to the housewife lifestyle, you're still unsure of how to make such appointments. Before you met and married Wesley, you just mowed the lawn yourself, but your husband refuses to hear of his good and proper wife performing a menial act.

"Got any bushes that need trimmin'?"

You aren't sure why that particular sentence makes you feel the blood rush to your face. "I typically keep up with it on my own, when I'm tending to my garden."

Joel gives a small chuckle and it warms your insides. "That ain't no problem. Today around eleven good for ya?"

"Eleven sounds perfect."

"Pricing'll be about fifty, but we can come to an agreement once the job is done."

"Wonderful. I look forward to seeing you." You give him your name and address, hanging up with a sense of accomplishment.

His van appears in your driveway just a minute before eleven. You're impressed with his timeliness. What you don't expect is the gorgeous stranger on your doorstep.

Joel Miller is tall, broad-shouldered, skin bronze from working out in the sun, and his dark brown hair is greying handsomely. If you had to guess his age you'd say fifties. He's in a grey tee shirt and work jeans. What stand out to you the most are his eyes: almost black in color, appraising you as you wait in the doorway, prim and proper housewife, lips parted, eyes wide.

He asks for you by name and you nod, chuckling slightly.

"If you can show me where the lawn mower is I'd be happy to get started," he offers, and the voice you recognize from the phone makes you melt.

You lead him outside to the garage and he takes out the mower, filling it up with some gasoline first. "Is there anything else you need?" you ask politely.

"No ma'am," he looks over his shoulder at you as he pushes the machine to the front yard. "Get inside and get outta this sun. I'll handle it from here," he smiles and it makes you want to giggle like a schoolgirl.

From inside you watch him through the window, deftly maneuvering the lawn mower over, trimming the grass to a neat, short length. It's not yet the hottest hour of the day, but you see him sweating, and when he stops a moment to remove his shirt, you suddenly feel your pulse in the deepest part of your cunt. You wonder what it would be like to lick up every drop of sweat off his chest.

Like a slow motion scene from a movie, you watch the motion of his arms, the rippling of his back as he guides the machine over the lawn. Biting your lip you take in the sight of him, the determination on his face redirecting your thoughts to how he would look above you: hot, sweaty, hard, plunging into your drenched pussy.

How long has it been since you've had a man? Wesley prefers his Saturday nights like clockwork. But you want more. Stupidly thinking marriage was the best way to be treated right and fucked properly, you realized it was not the title but the man, and the particular man you chose was lacking in all area which mattered.

You aren't even sure you love him anymore.

But right now, watching Joel is a treat, and fantasizing about him is a little secret you'll harbor for later in the day when you'll inevitably find yourself using the showerhead attachment.

He finishes the front and back yards, and through the blinds you peep him putting his shirt back on, running a hand through his wavy curls before putting the mower away and coming to your door.

You answer it before he knocks. "Thank you!" is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. "Please come in and we can settle payment."

He cleans the bottoms of his boots on the welcome mat before stepping inside your home and following you to the kitchen. "You have a very nice home, ma'am."

"You're too kind," you're modest about his compliment, but it's thrilling to have someone say something nice about the hard work you put into keeping house. "Would you care for some iced tea? I've just made it fresh."

"I won't say no to that," he chuckles lightly, and you're happy to fill a glass with some of the fresh-brewed tea over ice.

Joel leans back against the sink, pouty pink lips pressed to the glass as he tips it back, opening just enough to take a sweet sip. You watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows, and you wish you could lick a stripe up along his the length of his delicious-looking neck to collect all the sweat that's beaded there.

"Is there anythin' else you need help with today?" he asks, his question carrying a hint of something more.

You blank for a moment, getting lost in the depth of his obsidian eyes, still caught up in your little fantasy. "No.. no, I don't think so." Taking a look around your eyes dart to every corner, taking mental stock of the upstairs rooms as well. "No," you finalize with a smile.

"If you're sure.." he says in that same low tone.

You give him fifty dollars and chat a little while he finishes his drink.

"If there's nothin' else I'll get goin'. Feel free to call me again if you need somethin' done, or looked at. Ain't nothin' I can't fix," he winks at you on your doorstep and you feel a waterfall in your panties.

Isabelle calls later in the day. "So? You had Joel over today, right? How'd it go?"

Dinner is in the oven and there's about an hour before your husband gets home. Phone on speaker, you start peeling potatoes. "It was fine. He did a great job. I'm sure I'll use him again."

Over the line you hear Isabelle sigh. "Isn't his dick beautiful? I swear, just thinking about it gets me so wet!"

You nearly slice a finger off, shocked by her words. Even though you're alone in the house, you pick up the phone and take it off speaker. "What are you talking about?"

"I think it's at least eight inches, and the way it curves at the end," Isabelle sounds like she's moaning.

"Okay, I'm lost. I hired the handyman that you and the others referred. That's who came over today."

"Exactly, dear! Did he fuck you? You don't have to give details of course."

Your brain is put on pause as only silence fills your throat.

"Oh dear," Isabelle continues. "You didn't know?"

"Know what?"

She sighs, possibly settling herself on her chaise longue out by her pool she's so proud of. "Joel Miller is a handyman, yes. But we also pay him a little extra for other services."

"Oh." You sink onto the living room settee, the closest thing to you.

"Mm-hmm. Mind you, it's not an all-the-time thing. But we've all had him. It's just something fun. You get some help around the house with your honey-do list, and then a good fucking after. Or whatever pleases you."

"And you.. you've.. slept with him?"

"I wouldn't call it sleeping, honey, but yeah I've been with him. It's all for fun. Nobody really takes it seriously."

"And everyone else at the book club?"

"Pretty much. Do you really think any of our husbands could compare to that god of a man Joel Miller?"

No, no you doubt any man could hold up to the stud who'd just helped you with the lawn.

He's on your mind constantly, but as tightly as Wesley keeps his wallet to himself, you can't validate having Joel's help every day. You make the choice to wait until the following week.

And what a long wait it is. Jealously you wonder whose house he's going to. Jackie down the street? Bitchy Becky with her face like a rat, no tits and no ass?

You consider calling Isabelle to beg for the details (which she'll probably give you without a fuss anyway). But a sordid part of you wants to find out for yourself. You already know he's well-endowed. He's at least twice as big as Wesley, who wouldn't know what to do with a big cock if he was blessed with one overnight.

A week to the day since he made his last visit, Joel comes back to replace the batteries in your smoke alarms. It's a job you've done yourself, perching on a stepladder, but it'll be more fun to have Daddy fix it.

The phone call to schedule him was practically foreplay. That smooth-as-chocolate voice had your panties drenched. When he's finally here, inside your home, inside your needy little cunt.

Your eyes rove over his form as he uses your stepladder, only needing the first rung. It doesn't stop you from staying right there with him, holding it steady on the other side. You hear his little grunts as he gets to work, watch his thick, strong fingers handle the batteries with a delicacy you can imagine he uses in other things.

Licking your lips, you realize you're face-to-face with the faded blue denim crotch of his jeans, those Levis hugging him tight in all the right places.

"I'm 'bout done here," he says, putting the smoke detector back in its place. "Anythin' else you need help with, lil' darlin'?"

Your hand presses to the bulge in his jeans, and you're delighted when you feel him twitch in response. "As a matter of fact, I do need your help with something else.."

"That right?" he murmurs, pressing your hand against him, letting you feel him grow hard under his palm. "Been waitin' to see if you'd ask.."

He steps down, keeps his dark eyes on you. "Pretty lil' thing like yourself don't get enough attention, huh?" he whispers, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

Softly you sigh, unashamed at how needy you've been for a simple touch. "No.. but I'd like you to help with that."

"That's what I'm here for, darlin'," he smiles, his thumb tracing your soft plump lips. "What do you want me to do, baby?"

"Everything," you answer quickly. "I'm not.. really sure what the usual is.."

His smile is kind as his hand traces down your neck, leaving goosebumps to rise on your skin. "You want me to fuck ya, give ya somethin' nobody else is doin'.. that it?" He places your hand back on his bulge and you respond by rubbing him, your own cunt pulsing around nothing in excited expectation.

"Yes.. I need to get fucked," you agree emphatically, pulling him into your bedroom.

Now he's here, in your room, and you think you're dreaming. He's letting you take the lead, completely at your service. All the women in your book club were probably more open with their desires, knowing immediately what they wanted and how to get it. All the fantasies about Joel you've created and harbored in the deepest part of your heart are now as impalpable as gossamer.

"You tell me what you want, honey," he drawls in that molasses-rich voice of his. His hands gently trace your waist, smoothing down your dress as he moves towards your curvaceous hips. "God damn, I bet you look fuckin' gorgeous outta this dress. Wanna show me?"

Biting your lip, you nod, tugging off your apron and dropping it to the floor. Not gonna be a damn housewife while he's with me..

A tiny smirk on your face, you gently push Joel back onto your bed, and he rights himself with an equally mischievous smile as he watches you. He palms his hard cock through his jeans as you do a little striptease, tantalizing him as you slip your prim flower-print dress off your shoulders.

"There we go, baby," he growls as the dress falls down to your hips, your scarlet satin bra revealed, your breasts practically spilling over the cups, making Joel's mouth water. You turn around for his help in unzipping the bottom part of your dress, finally feeling free as it falls away, pooling at your feet.

Joel lets out a wolf whistle as he takes in the sight of you in your ruby undergarments, the same you'd tried to seduce your husband in. Now they're finally being put to good use. "Red's your color, gorgeous," he mutters, his hands on your hips, mapping out your generous curves and the soft rolls of your belly.

You've almost forgotten what it was like, this power to entrance a man and make him see you as the only woman in the world. Marriage to an uncaring and unfeeling idiot had left you cut off from your sexuality. Now you're reclaiming it.

Joel's hands travel back up to your waist, fingers deftly unclasping your bra. He unwraps you like you're the goddamn Christmas gift he's been begging for for months. His tongue wets his lips as your plump breasts are revealed. With one hand on your lower back, the other palms your tit with a rough hand. Your nipple rises to his touch and he dips down to swirl his tongue around it, gently coaxing it further with his teeth. Your head falls back as the sensation zings straight to your cunt. "Fuck, Joel.."

He smiles against the softness of your skin. "Sensitive here, huh? Bet these ain't been properly played with in awhile. Gonna change that right now." And with that he gives another hard suck, his dick already leaking when he hears your needy moan. He treats the other breast with the same attention. You take one of his hands and lead it to the drenched front side of your panties, but he stops you.

"Not yet, baby. Want you to see yourself before I fuckin' ruin ya."

You lay on your side on the bed as you watch Joel undress. It's a sight you won't soon forget: skin tan from working outdoors, with a smattering of chest hair that's also showing some grey, chiseled arms, and a happy trail that leads from his navel to the front of his boxers, which are tented. He wears a little smirk as he pulls them off and your reaction is priceless.

Joel is fucking hung.

You've taken big cocks before, but his is formed of pure fantasy, like a dildo from your favorite sex shop. Isabelle wasn't exaggerating about his size. And his cock is so beautiful you want to cry. Watching as he gives it a couple strokes, all eight thick uncut inches, the rosy pink tip glistens with precum, the veins and ridges prominent. Even the curve Isabelle mentioned is sexy, bound to hit all the right places inside you. His balls, rounded and heavy, move with his motions.

Thank God I did my yoga this week.

You beckon him to you, pulling the boxers away completely and dipping your head to taste him. Your tongue laves across the salty slit of his tip, and you relish the hitch of his breath. He's not here for you to please him, but it gets you wet wrapping your lips around his cock, suctioning your mouth and stroking upward from his base. When you start to massage his balls he stops you. "Don't wanna shoot too soon, baby," he says breathlessly.

He pulls you up off the bed and into a kiss, his hands playing along the edges of your panties as his tongue tastes yours. His cock, still wet from your mouth, nudges against your soft belly. "You deserve to feel good," he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his tongue tracing the outline. At last he pulls your panties down, a rumble in his throat when he sees the sweet glaze between your thighs, glistening in your triangle of hair.

"Sit on my lap, baby. With your back to me," he orders in a soft growl.

His flesh is warm beneath yours, and god it feels good just to be touched again, to feel desired by someone. You haven't known it in so long. He sits back against the headboard, moving the pillows on either side. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist as he leaves soft, feathery kisses across your shoulder.

"So soft," he murmurs. "C'mon, baby, look at yourself," he nods to the mirror in front of you.

When you catch your reflection you're exhilarated at the sight: you, naked, with Joel behind you, kissing your neck, fondling your tits, thumb brushing over them and lightly pinching them to hardened peaks. "Spread your legs for me, baby," he whispers, getting started by brushing his hand from your knee to your petal-soft inner thigh.

It's lascivious, watching all this unfurl before you in the mirror. You're spread open, on full display. Your pussy is gushing over with need, and you trace your folds with your fingers.

Behind you, Joel's cock twitches, and he rubs himself lightly against your back. "Lemme do that.." he whispers, gently pulling your hand away, bringing your fingers to his mouth and sucking your juice off them. "So sweet," he murmurs, and your belly is hot with lust.

His touch is soft and careful at first, exploring you and figuring out what you like, what you need. It feels like he's memorizing every inch of you. His thick fingers glide over your lips, circling, teasing you so you'll beg him for more.

"Joel," you whine, lifting yourself to him, trying to get his hand to position itself where you need it most. But he evades you, a dark chuckle emanating from deep in his throat. "You're payin' me to do a job and I wanna do it right. Not fair to rush me."

Your eyes close in frustration. "Joel, please.."

"Nuh-uh. Daddy."

"Fuck," you whimper. "Please, daddy."

"That's more like it." His touch finds your clit, throbbing and needy, and you nearly see stars at the feeling. He presses once again before sliding two fingers into your warm, welcoming cunt. "Christ, she's really suckin' me in there," he grunts, shifting behind you as his dick becomes nearly impossible to ignore.

"Yes," you moan at the sweet intrusion, the easy glide of his fingers in your drenched pussy. "Just like that."

"So fuckin' tight," he says through gritted teeth. And Jesus, his fingers are thick, the calloused thumb swiping over your clit, making you twitch and your hips arch up for more. "She's pulsin' around me," he mutters, his rich voice in your ear, lips brushing against your lobe. His fingers glide in, stretching you as you coat him.

"Ah, she's gettin' all creamy for me," he coos as he pulls them out a moment, licking off one finger and giving the other to you. You taste yourself, salty and sweet, humming in appreciation as you release his digit from your mouth with a pop.

He returns to his work, his hand pistoning against your folds, the squishy sounds of your soaked cunt beautifully obscene to your ears. Your voice trembles as you cry out, a sweet vibrato that resounds throughout the room as Joel's fingers curl in on your g-spot. He adds a bit more pressure to your clit as he tries to get you there. Moaning, he nuzzles his face into your neck.

It feels like you break open under his touch, hips arching up, swallowing his delving fingers deeper inside you as you spasm uncontrollably around him, a string of curses falling from your lips.

You barely have time to recover before he's on you again, moving in front of you as you lay against the pillows, like Venus in a Titian painting. His hands lift your thighs, softly kneading their thickness as he plants kisses on either side, trailing up to your cunt, your scent all around him.

"My husband never goes down on me," you whisper, heart racing as quick as a hummingbird's wings.

"Ain't he a waste of fuckin' space," Joel grunts, a wicked gleam in his eye as he dives in, flattening his tongue to lick a stripe upwards to your needy, throbbing clit. Your hands grab at his hair, pushing him forward as his groan is muffled by your sweet, saturated pussy.

"God.. damn!" you gasp at the delicious feeling of his tongue on you, lapping up every drop, tracing your lips and tickling your clit. He's relentless in his pursuit of making you come, switching up the tempo, adding a finger and then another, praising you when you cry out again. "Squeezin' so hard on me.. she's just about ready, ain't she?" Before he finally suctions his lips around your puffy clit and sucks, humming around it.

It's as if your soul leaves your body for a precious few moments, muttering monosyllables in sweet relief. You've never come so hard before, ever. And when you look up at Joel you wish you could worship him.

"Like the sweetest tea I ever drank," he says, licking his lips.

"Fuck me, Joel," you whine, still not fully come down from your climax.

"C'mere," he growls, putting you on all fours so you're facing the mirror again. You look at your reflection: hair mussed, eyes shining bright, skin glowing from your orgasm. Joel lines himself up behind you, smiling as you watch yourself. "Got every right to look at yourself, darlin'.. someone as fuckin' hot as you, with these hips, this ass?" He grabs one cheek and gives it a slap. You gasp, jolting forward, then wiggle your ass at him, wanting more.

"You a naughty lil' thing," Joel smirks, teasing your folds with his tip. "Wanna get this pretty lil' pussy ruined?"

"Yes, daddy," you moan, pushing back on him.

"Fuck me, I like the way you say that." He bites his lip as he continues teasing you. "Once I fuck you, you'll never let that limp dick husband of yours touch you ever again, I promise you that."

Your reply is cut off when you feel him nudge inside, your walls breached by his thick cock. "Oh god... yes!" you exclaim, clutching the bedsheets. "Fuck.. your cock is so huge.." You can feel the tip just kissing your cervix.

"Yeah, you like it? Like gettin' fucked by this big cock? Gettin' stretched out? Gonna leave a big ol' gapin' hole for your husband to come home to."

He bottoms out, grabbing your ass cheeks with both big hands, watching the smoothness of your skin as your cunt clenches onto him. "God damn what a pretty sight.. you oughta see this. Pussy's barely fittin' me as it is. Only tighter thing would be your little ass.." and he pulls out all the way to slam back in, glorying in the way you scream his name.

"There she goes, gotta get 'er used to me," he grunts, eyes on your swollen pussy lips wrapping his cock in a vise with each steady thrust. "Jesus, sweetheart. So tight I gotta try not to blow my load."

The sound of his name on your lips, the way your body reacts to him, is like gasoline on an already raging fire. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "Say my name, baby. I wanna hear it." He quickens the pace, pressing deeper inside you.

"Daddy! Daddy!" you shout in time with each delicious snap of his hips. "My god, you're so fucking deep.." you moan.

"That's it, take all of me. You like the way I fill you?"

"Yes daddy!" Your fingers clutch the sheets as the bed rocks with your movements. "So full of you.."

He presses a hand to your abdomen. "Feel me there, baby? All up in your guts. No one else is ever gonna fill you the way I do. No one's ever gonna come close. This needy lil' cunt's gonna be cryin' for me every day until I come back and give her what she needs."

His dirty talk is getting you wetter, your juices running down between your thighs, making his cock all sloppy, the sound of it making you feral for more. "Fuck me, Joel.. fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme.." you mumble, face down, ass up, slack jawed as you drool on the sheets.

He speeds up, hips slamming against yours, balls thwacking under you. "Yeah? Want me to fill ya up, blow all this fuckin' load inside ya? Got snipped years ago, baby, 's up to you."

"Fill me up, make me dirty and messy," you groan.

"You want daddy to give you everything he's got, baby?" he repeats. "You want me to fill you til you're all messy and drippin' with me?"

"Yes.. yes please," you're barely able to get out.

"Fuck," he growls, grabbing hold of your hips as he pounds into you ferociously. Once he has control he places one hand on your back, keeping you pressed down as he angles himself to hit that delicious little spot inside and he knows he's hit it when you cry out, cursing and shivering, clamping down on him like a damn vise right before he lets go, streaming jet after jet of his hot come inside you. There's so much it's already leaking out while he's still inside you.

The rest of the week you make a list of things for Joel to do next time: perhaps check out what's going on with the washing machine, or maybe he could regrout your bathroom, or help you rearrange your living room furniture right before he rearranges your guts again.

Even Wesley notices the bright and cheery mood you're in, and how attractive you've become since taking on some of the home improvements. That weekend he does you a huge favor, and sits back in his armchair as he waits for you to discover it.

"Wesley? What were you doing in the garage for so long? I heard a lot of noise," you tell him, arms crossed, a look of suspicion on your face.

He looks pleased with himself. "Well honey, you've been so agreeable these past few days that I thought I'd cross off some little projects on your to-do list."

"Like what?" you ask slowly.

He lists off everything you've had planned for Joel to do in the coming weeks. Small things, of course, but Wesley has done all of them, leaving you with nothing for daddy to fix.

"I thought you'd be happy," he says, his face cloudy now that you're unhappy again.

"Happy? Not quite." You leave a moment and return with a hammer, heading towards your husband.

He cowers, ducking as you completely pass him by and swing the hammer into the drywall of the living room wall, over and over again. When you've let your anger out and Wesley is rightfully afraid of your next move, you simply smile sweetly, holding the hammer pressed to your apron with your well-manicured hands. "Looks like I'll have to call the handyman after all!"

dividers by @thecutestgrotto 👑

tagging those who showed interest when this baby was still just a wip: @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @604to647 @inept-the-magnificent @clawdeewritesfanfic @manuymesut @bitccchmood @everybodylovedcontractors

[yyokkki]

Riddle Rosehearts

A former city boy who ran away from home after refusing to become a doctor like his mother was.

Actually works as a lawyer at a small firm in the nearest town. He commutes by car and it's only a 30 minute drive with minimal traffic (thank god cuz his road rage is abysmal) but he works remotely on most days.

Is often found at the town saloon (the community centre after you fix it!) holding tea parties with Trey, Cater, Ace and Deuce or at the local library.

Loved Gifts: Strawberry Tart, Fairy Rose, Ruby, Universal Loves

"...Oh! Ahem, thank you farmer. Expect a return gift in the mail soon."

Hated Gifts: Eel, Clay, Royal Sword Cola, Universal Hates

"Ugh! This is unacceptable!"

Trey Clover

The local baker! His family runs a bakery in the city and he moved to NRV on his own to open another branch of Clover's Confectionaries.

He says the fertile soil and rich foragables make it the perfect place to gather ingredients on his own.

Rumour has it he runs a backdoor business for specialty toothpastes.

Is often found at the town saloon serving his pastries for Riddle's parties or at his bakery tending to his mini garden at the back.

Loved Gifts: Limestone, Pearl, Candied Violets, Universal Loves

"Thanks farmer! How did you know I needed this? ...I don't owe you anything, right?"

For Limestone and Pearl: "This is perfect! Now, to extract the calcium carbonate..." (Yes, for toothpaste)

Hated Gifts: Broken Glasses, Mustard, Universal Hates

"Oh... Uh... Thanks?"

Cater Diamond

A social media influencer and former travel blogger.

Used to travel a lot but decided to settle at NRV. He claims it's because the scenery and people are 'cute'.

Occasionally will go to the city with Kalim and Lilia to perform and hold concerts.

Is in a band with Kalim and Lilia, plays the guitar.

Is often found at the town saloon with Riddle, Trey, Ace and Deuce or in the town square chatting up the other residents.

Loved Gifts: Spicy Ramen, Diamond, Universal Loves

"Aww, you shouldn't have! #lucky #cutefarmer"

Hated Gifts: Anything Sweet, Clay, Universal Hates

"Aww, thanks but no thanks. #lame"

Ace Trappola

The local carpenter! Stays at Night Raven Valley with his older brother who he learned all his tricks from (bad and good).

Loves causing trouble and playing harmless pranks on the other residents (Deuce is his biggest victim), good at magic tricks too.

Plays basketball on sunny Saturdays with Jamil and Floyd.

The first character you meet, who was assigned with fixing up Ramshackle Farm. Shit talks your farm right to your face and holds no remorse.

Is often found at the town saloon at Riddle's tea parties or at the back on the arcade machines.

Loved Gifts: Cherry Pie, Cherry, Royal Sword Cola, Universal Loves

"Dwoes the wittle farmer have a crush on me~ Ack, I'm kidding!"

Hated Gifts: Clay, Oyster, Universal Hates

"Gross! Do you hate me or something??"

Deuce Spade

The local mechanic/handyman! He's self taught and lives with his mom, Dylla Spade who handles the deliveries in town.

Used to be a delinquent but has since turned a new leaf.

His passion project is modding the hell out of his motorcycle and hitting the roads.

Goes on runs with Jack every sunny Wednesday.

Volunteers at the Adventurer's Guild and takes requests from the board for security as his goal is to become a full time officer in the future.

Is often found at the town saloon at Riddle's tea parties or at the back getting obliterated by Ace in Junimo Cart.

Loved Gifts: All Eggs (Except Void Egg), Omelette, Battery Pack, Universal Loves

"Farmer! I knew you were a real one!"

For Battery Pack: "Thanks dude! I needed this for the finishing touches..."

Hated Gifts: Void Egg, Juice (He drinks it, it just reminds him of Ace), Bell Pepper, Universal Hates

"Hah? Oh, I thought you were pickin' a fight..."

---

TWST x SDV Masterlist

Tag List (Interact with the linked post to be tagged in future updates mwah)

[winchesterwild78]

A Home and a Heart

Master List

Characters: Jack Durfy x Reader

Warnings: Language, Inappropriate propositions, angst, injury

A/N: Just a quick story, not too long. Maybe two or three chapters. I haven’t seen Buddy Games, but I did Google the character. I know he wasn’t in the movie long, but we can always use our imagination.

This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life or the movie in any way. 

Please do not take my work, reblogs are appreciated.

Minors DNI 18+

The rain drummed against the roof, echoing through the small, cramped house. You sighed, your heart heavy with worry. You had been trying to keep your head above water, but it seemed the problems just kept piling up. The leaky roof, the faulty stove outlet, and the crumbling front steps were more than you could handle.

You were a single mother to a very active 3 year old boy, Tommy. He was the light of your life, but it was also exhausting doing everything alone. Tommy’s father ditched you the minute he found out you were pregnant, and you haven’t heard from him since. 

Your family and best friend have been an amazing support for him and you. When you had to work late at the hospital, they would watch him and help take care of him. 

Being so fiercely independent, you refused to tell them just how bad the repairs needed really were. Your best friend, Abby, knew. She offered to help you, but you refused. She had just had a baby and she and her husband were trying to build their nest egg. You couldn’t take money from them. 

Desperate, you reached out to local handymen for help. The first one showed up in a fancy new truck. He walked around your home and took notes, he went on the roof and when he came down he handed you a quote for $15,000. Your eyes almost popped out of your head. “Well, thank you so much for coming out. I’ll let you know.” He nodded and got in his truck and left. 

The other quotes were any better. None of the companies were willing to set up payments with you. Even though you had a steady job and amazing credit they said they weren’t willing to make arraignments for such a large amount. 

The last two contractors were far worse. You showed Joe in and he walked around. He started to head towards your bedroom, “Um, excuse me, there isn’t anything in there that needs repairing.” He turned and walked over to you, “Oh not yet, darlin’, but I’m sure you can’t pay so we can work something out.” His hand brushed against your breast. 

“ I think you should leave.” “Ah don’t be like that. I know you’re lonely and need more than just your house worked on.” You were fuming, “Leave, NOW!” 

He grabbed his stuff and left. You were starting to feel hopeless. You called Abby, “Hey Abbs. I don’t know what to do. I’ve called every handyman I can find and they are either too high, won’t do a payment plan, or they try to sleep with me. I need to give Tommy a safe place to live. I don’t want to walk away from this house. It’s mine and it’s something I’m proud of having.”

 Abby offered a sympathetic ear, “I know honey. Maybe you can try and call Jack Durfy. He owns Durfy Construction, he can be a bit of an ass, but I know he’s got a kind heart. When John got laid off a few years ago, Jack had him come work for him so he could make some money.” “I didn’t know that. I’ll give him a call, thanks Abbs.” 

Jack owned Durfy Construction, and though he had a reputation for being gruff, you were willing to give him a chance. You called him up and asked him to come by for a consultation. “Mr Durfy, my friend Abby Smith told me to call you. I own a small home and it’s in need of some urgent repairs. I’m going to be honest with you so I’m not wasting your time, I’m a single mom on a fixed income. I’d be willing to set up a payment plan if you were open to it.” “Well, let me come out there and take a look. I’ll let you know.”

The next morning you saw Jack driving down your driveway in his big truck. Tommy was standing at the door, jumping up and down seeing the truck. “Truck, mommy, truck!” You scooped up the toddler, “Yes baby I see it’s a truck. Mr. Durfy is here to see if he can help fix the house. 

Jack walked up the stairs and noticed how broken they were. You greeted him with a warm smile and an extended hand, “Hello Mr Durfy, thank you for coming by. I really appreciate it.” He shook your hand, “Hello Ms Y/L/N, it’s nice to meet you, and who’s this little guy?” He ruffled Tommy’s hair. Your toddler squealed in delight, “I’m Tommy.” “Well, hello Tommy. Want to show me the house buddy?” Tommy nodded excitedly. You smiled softly.

As Jack inspected the house, he discovered even more problems than you had initially realized.

“So Ms, Y/L/N, besides the roof, front steps, and stove outlet, I unfortunately found some other things that need attention as soon as possible. The foundation is cracked by your bedroom, and the main bathroom has a leak into the walls. That’s going to require a complete demolition of the bathroom, so we can dry out the wall and replace everything.” 

Tears pricked your eyes. “Oh wow. I definitely got screwed over when I bought this place. I never should have bought it.” The tears started to fall. You wiped them away quickly, “I’m sorry Mr. Durfy. How much will all of this cost me? 

“Well, first, please call me Jack, and I can do it all for about $5,000.” You sat and looked at him in disbelief, “I’m sorry, what? $5,000? That’s it? Please Mr. Durfy, I mean Jack, please tell me the full price.” 

“That is the full price. I don’t take advantage of people and I own all of my own equipment and have all the material needed for the repairs already. I tell you what, if you’d agree to do something for me I’d be willing to do the repairs at no cost.”

“You know what, I’m tired of men thinking I’d spread my legs for them to get repairs done.” “Whoa! What? Y/N, I’m not asking you to sleep with me. Jesus. What kind of man do you think I am? Shit!” 

Your face turned red with embarrassment, “Jack I’m so sorry. The last guy I had here tried to get me to sleep with him to do the repairs. I am so sorry. I understand if you want to leave.”

“Let me guess, Joe Collins?” “Yes, how did you know?” “The guy is a douchebag. He tries to jack up his rates and then sleeps with women to get them lower.” “That’s disgusting.” “Yeah it really is.”

“So, like I was saying, I work really late at night, sometimes I just sleep in the office trailer. It’s been years since I’ve had a home cooked meal, and I know you can cook. Abby told me. (he smirked) So if you’d be willing to cook some meals for me, I’d be willing to do the repairs for you. Of course I might need Tommy’s assistance with tools and stuff, if that’s okay with you.”

“Wow, that’s really generous of you. I know Tommy would love to help you with tools. I doubt you’d get the right one you needed, but he’d try. Sure, I’ll cook for you. Are you allergic to anything or have any dietary restrictions?”

“Nope, I’m not a pansy. I like meat and eat junk, so I’m good for anything.” “Having allergies and dietary restrictions don’t make you a pansy.” You chuckled. 

A few days later you were woken up by the sound of walking on the roof. You looked over at the clock and it was a little after 6am. You grumbled and grabbed your robe. Walking outside you stepped into the yard, “Um, since when did we agree to you coming at the crack of dawn to start working?” 

Jack looked down at you and chuckled, “Sorry sweetheart, there is rain coming in later and we wanted to get this roof pulled off and the new one laid before it comes in.” 

“Ugh! Fine. Wait, I just needed a repair, not a whole new roof.” Jack looked down at you, “The repair area was just too big. It makes more sense to just do a new roof.” “Okay, well I’ll be in the house trying to sleep. I have a shift in a few hours.” 

“Sweet dreams” Jack chuckled. You lazily waved and climbed up the stairs and went inside. Abby had taken Tommy to her house for the night, so you grabbed your earphones, turned on some white noise and went back to sleep. 

A few hours later your alarm went off and you got out of bed. Hearing the hammering overhead you figured they were already laying the new roof. Dang they work fast. You went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Waiting for the water to heat up, you went into the kitchen and started your coffee. You made extra for Jack and the guys working with him. 

Jumping in the shower you cleaned yourself and your hair. You finished getting ready for work then went into the kitchen and started cooking something to eat. You figured Jack and the other guys were hungry, so you whipped up something filling for them too. 

You ate quickly and grabbed your cup of coffee. Grabbing your bag you went outside and got Jack’s attention. He climbed down from the roof, “Hey, I hope we were as quiet as we could be.” “Oh I put in my earbuds, I didn’t hear anything but the soothing sounds of the ocean.” Jack chuckled. 

“So I’m heading out to work, I left the front door unlocked for you. I made you guys something to eat and some coffee if you’re hungry. All I ask is you guys stay out of my underwear drawer.” Jack chuckled, “Now where’s the fun in that. You know you learn a lot about someone by the underwear in their drawer.” You looked at Jack unamused. He threw his hands up in defeat, “Sorry, I was just kidding. We don’t go through people’s things. You can trust us. Thanks for cooking, you didn’t have to.” “Yes I did, I thought that was our arrangement.” “Yes, but only for me. I can’t have you spoiling my guys.” 

You smiled and touched his chest. “Don’t worry, I’ll save the good stuff for you.” Your fingers lingered on his chest for a few minutes. His chest was so toned and firm. Your breath quickened. Jack’s heart started pounding, he liked your hand on his chest. 

You cleared your throat, “Well have a good evening, Jack. I’ll see you later.” “Yeah, bye, Y/N, have a good shift, and thanks for the food.” You waved and nodded as you climbed in your car. 

Driving to work all you could think about was Jack. His piercing green eyes, his smile, his bowed legs perfectly hugged by his blue jeans, his toned chest, and his whiskey silky voice. You hadn’t realized your face had flushed or that you were biting your lip until you put your car in park at work. 

You took a deep shaky breath before getting out. This attraction to Jack came out of nowhere. You really need to get it under control since he’ll be working at your house. 

A few hours into your shift you walked into a patient's room to check on them before they were discharged. That’s when you heard a familiar voice coming from the room next door. 

“The nurse will be right with you sir. I’m just the triage nurse.” She walked out of the room and handed you the chart, “This one is a little grumpy. He keeps complaining he doesn’t have time for this shit.” 

You snorted, “Okay, thanks for the heads up.” You looked at the chart and softly gasped. Jack Durfy, Male, 46 years old. 

Of course this happens. You took a deep breath and knocked on the door. “Come in” you heard his gruff voice say. 

As soon as Jack saw you his eys softened. “Well, hey sweetheart.” You smiled and blushed a little, “Jack, what happened?” 

“It was stupid, I got distracted and fell off the roof. I think I broke a rib and I sliced my hand pretty good.” 

“Oh my god, Jack! Okay let me see the hand first.” 

You removed the temporary dressing and looked at his hand. Taking his large, calloused hand in yours sent a shiver through your body and straight between your thighs. Your breath quickened. 

Swallowing hard, “You’re going to need stitches. I’m going to clean the wound and get the sutures on it.” Jack just nodded. 

As you cleaned his wound and stitched him up, he watched you, completely mesmerized by you. The way your fingers brushed over his skin, like a delicate dance, only the two of you were invited to. 

You bit your lip as you worked. Your eyes flicked up to his, God he’s got gorgeous green eyes. And his lips look so plump and soft. 

“Okay, all patched up. X-ray will be here to take you in a few minutes. Hopefully nothing is broken.” Your hand lingered on his for a few moments. “Hey, Y/N, thank you.” He touched your hand as you started to walk away. 

You smiled and nodded. A few minutes later they came to take him away to get his x-rays done. 

You sent Abby a text. 

You: Girl, Jack got injured and he’s here right now. I just finished working on him. 

Abby: Mmm is that what it’s called now. 😝 

You: Girl, stop. 😂 

Abby: He’s single, you’re single, he’s hot, you’re hot. 

You: No I’m not, girl stop. There is no way he’d be interested in me, an frompy, single mom. 

Abby: Don’t sell yourself short. You’re amazing, beautiful and a kick ass mom. Anyone would be lucky to have you. 

You: Thanks, Abbs. Well he’s back from x-ray. Gotta go. Give Tommy a kiss for me. 

Abby: Will do, go give Jack a big kiss, make his boo boos all better. 😘 

You: Yeah right. 🙄 

Your face flushed a little with Abby’s texts. You walked back into his room. “So now we wait for the doctor to read the film and he’ll tell us what to do next. Jack, I can’t believe you fell off the room. You could have been killed. I’m so glad you’re okay.” You touched his shoulder. 

His eyes sparkled under the harsh lights of the ER, “Me too, not sure what happened. I was just distracted and lost my footing. It was stupid.” 

The doctor came in a few minutes later, “Mr Durfy, I don’t see broken ribs, they are however bruised really bad. I’m going to have Ms. Y/L/N to wrap it pretty good for you. Keep it on unless you absolutely need to take it off, like to shower. Do you have someone who can help you wrap it tight again?” 

Jack looked up and was about to say no, but you nodded yes. “Um, yeah I guess I do.” “Great, then I’ll let you get wrapped up and we can discharge you. Ms. Y/L/N, wrap him tight and get him ready to go home.” You nodded, “Yes, sir. Mr. Durfy, I’ll be right back with the wrap and your discharge papers.” Jack nodded and you walked out.

Coming back in with the wrap and his papers you took a deep breath. “Okay, Jack I, um, need you to remove your shirt.” Jack took his shirt off and you let out a soft gasp. He was so toned, and being this close to him made you quiver between your thighs.

“This might hurt a bit, but let me know if it’s unbearable.” Jack nodded and you got to work. “Lift your arms slightly for me.” You started to wrap the bandage around his torso. You noticed goosebumps erupt on his skin as you wrapped his ribs. You leaned around him and your chest was flush with his as you reached around to wrap around his back. 

As you stood back up, you stopped and Jack placed his fingers lightly on your chin. “You’re incredible, you know that?” You blushed, “Thank you.” “I mean it, you are amazing at your job, you’re a kick ass mother, and you’re so beautiful.” 

“Jack, I, um, don’t know what to say.” He smiled softly at you, “You don’t have to say anything, darlin’.” Jack’s fingers brushed against your face, you leaned into his touch, instinctively. 

“What would you do if I told you I wanted to kiss you?” You softly chuckled, “I’d ask if you hit your head when you fell.” “I didn’t, and I’m serious. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I met you.” 

You bit your lip and took a deep breath, “Well, then do it.” You couldn’t believe you told him to kiss you. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you felt like you were going to pass out. 

Jack leaned in closer to you, your lips inches from each other. Your breath hitched. Jack softly pressed his lips to yours and you pressed yours to his. 

The kiss was soft and tender, not rushed or needy. As you two pulled back, his hand held onto your arm for a few minutes. 

“That was so good. I can’t wait to do it again.” He smiled at you. “Me either, Jack.” So he leaned in and placed his lips to yours, this time the kiss was deeper. He put his hand in your hair and pulled you between his legs. His tongue swiped across your lips, asking for entrance. You parted your lips and Jack deepened the kiss more. You moaned into his mouth.

The kiss was incredible, sending chills through your body. When the two of you finally pulled apart, you both smiled at each other. “Well, Mr. Durfy, you should head home to rest. I’ll see you later.” He smiled, “Yeah, I’ll see you after your shift. I need to go finish up some stuff before I call it a day. You shook your head, “Jack, please go home and rest. Whatever it is can wait.” 

Jack got off the table and grabbed his shirt, putting it on, “I’ll think about it.” He placed another soft kiss on your lips and smirked. 

“I’m never going to stop kissing you, I hope you know that.” “Good, because I don’t want you too. I’ll see you later, Jack.” “I’ll see you later, sweetheart.” 

With that, Jack grabbed his things and left the ER. You were left finishing your shift, thinking about the shared kiss and what it will mean for your future. You hoped it meant the beginning of something wonderful, but you were still guarded, and not just for your sake, but for Tommy. Only time will tell for sure.

Part 2….Coming Soon

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[lillaydee]

Uncoupled - The Uncoupling

Roommate! Joel Miller / Reader

Two people leaving their marriages ended up going through the mandatory one year separation together before filing for divorce.

Nothing could possibly happen in a year, right?

WARNINGS: Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Ellie & Joel Bonding (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), No age gap, Roommate Joel, Teacher Joel, Handyman Joel, Insecure Joel, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning.

SERIES MASTER LIST

---

Joel sat in his truck, biding his time. He’s home, technically, he’d been home for the past 20 minutes. But he couldn’t bring himself to go in, knowing what he was going to see or hear.

To say he had given up was an understatement.

He was so in love with her. He was the lanky, pimpled kid with the birds nest on his head, while she was the chubby, spectacled nerd, both in the school band, both so awkward and anti-social. The two of them were literally inseparable. They were Joel and Jen. They were each other’s first everything. She went to college, he didn’t, not really having the financial means to do so. So he did what he could. Worked construction until he could afford to attend college part time. He managed to get a diploma in education, and now taught woodworking and music at the local school. The income wasn’t much, but it was an honest and a steady income. As soon as he got the job, he proposed to her, and she said yes.

They moved to this town and started their lives together. Their married life was perfect for one year. Exactly one year.

She had surprised him with a promotion on their first wedding anniversary. She was elated, her income increased, and they spent the anniversary dinner dreaming of a better life together. It wasn’t long before her career skyrocketed, climbing the corporate ladder she was on, easily making four times he did. She started working later and later, going outstation more and more often. She got contacts, frequented the gym, got ‘treatments’ at the local surgeons to help make her look more… perky. Tight. Professional. She started dressing differently, getting more and more attention wherever she went. Her personality changed. Gone was the quiet, shy girl that she was, here was the loud, confident woman befitting her role in the company she worked for.

Joel, like most men do, filled out as he got more and more mature. No longer skinny and pimply, the years of construction work buffed him up, though he was never a gym rat. He remained who he was, relying on T-shirts and flannels paired with jeans when going out, his hair a mop on his head. Even in his early 30s, grey hair had started peppering his face and head. He didn’t care. He aged as he was supposed to. As good looking as he was these days, Joel was never the type to dress up.

She used to love his understated look. She used to say he looked his best when he was himself. But since the promotion, everything about him became something for her to critique. Everything he did was wrong, not enough, too much.

As she gained more attention from other men - her colleagues, usually - little by little, her loving calls and texts when working out of town got less frequent. He kept it up, trying to keep the romance alive, but his texts and calls were soon often left unanswered.

It wasn’t long before she got annoyed with his ‘incessant’ texts and calls. She’s working, stop bothering her. He’s living in the nice house and driving a nice brand-new truck because of her income. And to continue making that income, she had to do this. Travel for work, work late when she was at the office. Live with it. God knows his measly income from the school wasn’t going to cut it.

He started working for his brother Tommy, making custom furniture as a side income, putting that part of his income aside to spoil her. He was making the effort to contribute evenly, anything to make her happy. He took her on vacations, only for her to complain about how the vacations weren’t fancy enough. The hotels she stayed at during her work trips were much fancier than this, she told him once.

Pretty soon, nothing was good enough. She started complaining that he wasn’t working enough, despite him spending his days working, both at school and Tommy’s workshop after, coming home sore and tired to a cold, dirty and empty house. She worked late too, she told him. If he wanted to come home to a clean house and a home-cooked meal, maybe make more money so she could stay at home.

Sex? What’s that? A piece of furniture?

They had a joint account. He had to put in 80% of his pay into it to match her contributions, just to pay for the house, the car, the bills. Still, it wasn’t enough. When his mother came into town for Tommy’s wedding, he offered her the guestroom rather than waste money on a hotel. His wife spent the entire week Anita was there not talking to her at all, not shy about showing the kind elderly lady she had known most of her life how much of an inconvenience she was. His mother left town broken hearted, her daughter-in-law no longer the sweet, caring girl she knew way back when.

And then one day, a few minutes after she got in an Uber for a work trip, he received a text from her. Texts from her were so rare those days he was so shocked to hear her tone come out of his phone. So he read the text as soon as he received it.

‘I’m on my way to the airport. Should be at the hotel by six. You’d better be naked when I get there. Cannot wait to ride you ‘til dawn.’

It was as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown at him. Tommy’s wife Maria saw his frozen reaction, immediately looking over his shoulder to see what was going on. She immediately screenshotted the text, just in time, it seemed; the text was deleted seconds later. He didn’t hear from her at all the entire two weeks she was out of town.

When she got home, she asked him to sit down and laid it all to him. Might as well tell him now, she said. She’s no longer attracted to him. She had discovered the joys of sex with other people. She had never enjoyed her life like that, he was the only one she’d ever been with. He was all she knew. She liked this side of her, the one that was free to explore. She was not going to give this side of herself up. So he had two choices. One, to agree to an open relationship. Two, divorce.

He didn’t know why he did it, but he agreed to option one. He rationalized that perhaps, deep down, he was still in love with her. That the girl he fell in love with was still in there somewhere. Maybe she would resurface one day. So he endured her going out every day with the few men she had always done this with. Openly, this time. She seemed less angry with him. And for whatever reason, he took it all, hoping that she would see reason one day, that once everything was out of her system, he would have his wife back.

He was never interested in the open marriage concept, not interested to engage in it, even though technically he was allowed to partake. But he was a one-woman man. Even if the woman he was married to did not feel the same way.

The arrangement was simple. She set out rules for this open relationship thing herself. In her own words, she was not supposed to talk about it with him. She was not supposed to have emotional connections with the men. She was not supposed to sleep with anyone he knew. She was not supposed to bring anyone home. She was supposed to use protection.

And yet, she had thrown out every single rule she had established herself.

She told him every time she was leaving for a date with so and so. She came home raving about how good they were in bed compared to him. She spent her free time at home swooning and smiling at her phone, openly sending these men nudes and selfies. She taunted him that she may have developed a certain something with one man more than the others. She kicked him out of his own bedroom when he found some other man’s drawers under his pillow and confronted her with it.

She told him to get tested, for she might have contracted something. Despite never having touched him in years. She just wanted him to know she had let other men fuck her bare.

And here was where Joel ended up, five years into his marriage. After 15 years together. In his truck, arriving home just as she did, with Max, the guy she’d been seeing far too regularly. Joel knew him. He worked above her. Made more money than her. More than him, that’s for sure. He was married too, he had seen Max with you at work stuff, way before this whole thing happened. He wondered if you knew. He wondered if he should tell you. Such a shame. He remembered Max bragging about you then. He remembered thinking you were far too sweet and gentle to be with such a loud and brash man.

But he kept this thought to himself. Opposites attract, all that. None of his business.

His wife had taken her fuckbuddy to the bed they used to share, knowing he was going to be home soon.

There was no more love for him. There was no more respect for him. There was no consideration for his feelings.

In fact, he’s now convinced she hated him. For what, he didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

He was done.

**********

You sat in your car, biding your time. You’ve been parked next door for the last 20 minutes. But you couldn’t bring yourself to knock on the door, knowing what you were going to see or hear.

To say you had given up was an understatement.

You were so in love with him. You were the skinny, short, pimpled kid with the dark mess of hair on your head, while he was the gangly, spectacled nerd, both in the science club, both so awkward and anti-social. The two of you were literally inseparable. You were Max and Lily. You were each other’s first everything. He went to college, you didn’t, not really having the financial means to do so. So you did what you could. Worked a bakery until you could afford to attend college part time. You managed to get a diploma in business management, and now owned a sweet little bakery of your own in town. The income was alright, but it was no match to Max’s corporate income. He proposed to you as soon as he got a job. And you said yes.

You moved into this town and started your lives together. Your married life was perfect for one year. Exactly one year.

His personality changed, rapidly so. He needed to change, he told you. His livelihood depended on it. It would be an advantage if he was more out there. He started going to the gym, he started using products, wearing branded clothes. He networked. He went to parties and met new people.

He was right. This new personality carried him up the corporate ladder. Soon, he was bringing in easily ten times what you were. He started working later and later, going outstation more and more often.

You were not as skinny as you were in school. You plumped up a bit, as most people do when they get older. But you were… normal sized, you’d say. Perhaps a little thicker here and there, thanks in part to the fact that you spent your days concocting cakes and desserts for people. Someone had to sample them, right? And you didn’t work in an office, so jeans and shirts and blouses, those were your go-to. Hair in a manageable ponytail to keep them off your face as you worked.

He used to love your simple look. He used to say you looked your best when you were being yourself. But since the first promotion, that first gala he brought you to, everything about you became something for him to critique. Everything you did was wrong, not enough, too much.

You were not dressed fancy enough. You didn’t put enough make up. You didn’t wear the heels he asked you to wear. You didn’t wear the Skins, or Skims, or whatever it was he called that far too small bathing suit thing he bought you. You could hardly put your leg in the hole. He was embarrassed that your tummy was not as flat as it should be.

So you started running. Every morning. You toned up a bit. But nope. It was not enough. Nothing was ever enough.

He used to love your cooking. Now, every time you cooked for him or packed something for him, you were trying to make him fat. Just like you. Never mind that your BMI was completely within the normal range. Never mind that you were a healthy adult who would rather eat three healthy meals a day. Nope. You were not what the wife of someone with his calibre should look like.

Soon, he was home less and less. He travelled for work a lot. You tried to keep the romance alive, but your texts and calls were soon often left unanswered.

It wasn’t long before he got annoyed with your ‘incessant’ texts and calls. He’s working, stop bothering him. You’re living in the nice house and driving a nice brand-new car because of his income. And to continue making that income, he had to do this. Travel for work, work late when he was at the office. Live with it. God knows your measly income from the bakery wasn’t going to cut it.

Pretty soon, nothing was worth his time. He started complaining that you were an albatross hanging around his neck. You tried so hard to please him. Your house was always spotless, his clothes pressed and crisp, his meals prepared. But all went unnoticed. You would be lucky if he would wear something you pressed, ate something you made. He worked late, he told you. Had fancy dinners at Michelin starred restaurants. Why would he eat your food? The dry cleaners did a better job than you.  And oh, you missed a spot there on the kitchen counter.  

Sex? What’s that? A piece of pie?

You had a joint account. You had to put in 80% of your income into it to equal half his contributions, just to pay for the house, the car, the bills. Still, it wasn’t enough. When your one and only brother came into town to shop for his wedding, you offered him the guestroom rather than waste money on a hotel. Max spent the entire week Eddie was there not talking to him at all, not shy about showing the man who used to fend off his bullies for him how much of an inconvenience he was. Eddie left town angry, his brother-in-law no longer the sweet, caring person he knew way back when.

You never went on holidays, you could never afford to pay your share of the extravagant ones he took by himself, so you stayed home while he sunbathed in Bali and the Caribbean.

And then one day, when he was out of town for a work trip, you received a text from him. It was a picture of his Johnson, standing up to attention in a hotel room a thousand miles from where you were, a text accompanying it.  

‘He’s all prepped and ready, waiting for you to ride him ‘til dawn.’

It was as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown all over you. You immediately screenshotted the text, just in time, it seemed; the text was deleted seconds later. You didn’t hear from him at all the entire two weeks he was out of town.

When he got home, he asked you to sit down and laid it all to you. Might as well tell you now, he said. He’s no longer attracted to you. He had discovered the joys of sex with other people. He had never enjoyed his life like that, you were the only one he’d ever been with. You were all he knew. He liked this side of himself, the one that was free to explore. He was not going to give this up. So you had two choices. One, to agree to an open relationship. Two, divorce.

You didn’t know why you did it, but you agreed to option one. You rationalized that perhaps, deep down, you were still in love with him. That the boy you fell in love with was still in there somewhere. Maybe he would resurface one day. So you endured him going out every day with the few women he had always done this with. Openly, this time. He seemed less angry with you. And for whatever reason, you took it all, hoping that he would see reason one day, that once everything was out of his system, you would have your husband back.

You were never interested in the open marriage concept, not interested to engage in it, even though technically you were allowed to partake. But you were a one-man woman. Even if the man you were married to did not feel the same way.

The arrangement was simple. He set out rules for this open relationship thing himself. In his own words, he was not supposed to talk about it with you. He was not supposed to have emotional connections with the women. He was not supposed to sleep with anyone you knew. He was not supposed to bring anyone home. He was supposed to use protection.

And yet, he had thrown out every single rule he had established himself.

He told you every time he was leaving for a date with so and so. He came home bragging about how good they were in bed compared to you. He spent his free time at home swooning and smiling at his phone, openly sending these women nudes and selfies. He taunted you that he may have developed a certain something with one woman more than the others. He kicked you out of your own bedroom when you found a pair of bras under your pillow and confronted him about them.

He told you to get tested, for he might have contracted something. Despite never having touched you in years. He just wanted you to know he fucked other women bare.

And here was where you ended up, five years into your marriage. After 15 years together. In your car, after following him all day. And there he was, exiting his car with Jen, the woman he’d been seeing far too regularly. You knew her. She worked under him. Made more money than you, that’s for sure. She was married too, you had seen Jen with Joel, her husband, at work stuff, way before this whole thing happened. You wondered if he knew. You wondered if you should tell him. Such a shame. You remembered Jen bragging about Joel then. You remembered thinking he was far too sweet and gentle to be with such a loud and brash woman.

But you kept this thought to yourself. Opposites attract, all that. None of your business.

He had taken her to the bed you used to share, knowing you were going to find out. And now, he had joined her in her bed, the bed she shared with her husband.

There was no more love for you. There was no more respect for you. There was no consideration for your feelings.

In fact, you’re now convinced he hated you. For what, exactly, you didn’t know. You didn’t want to know.

You were done.

**********

You saw him first. He drove up just as Max and Jen were entering the house. He sat in his truck, not really reacting to what he just came home to. Oh, your heart broke for him. Sure, you were in the same boat, but you were not the one watching the person who promised to have and to hold you ‘til death do you part walk into your marital home with someone else.

So he knew. He didn’t look defeated at all. Just… resigned. In fact, if you were to describe how you looked right about now, you’d say you had the exact same look too. You were not sad. You were not angry. You were just… done.

Shit, he saw you. Shit. Should you drive off? Hide? What? You busied yourself looking at your phone, browsing for exactly… nothing.

A knock on your slightly opened window made you jump. Of course he came over. You lowered your window further, giving him an awkward smile. Hi, Joel, right? I’m… He knew your name. Of course he did, the same way you knew his. He asked if you’d like to join him outside. You happily unlocked the door and opened it, the summer was roasting you alive even with the windows open. You just thought waiting for your husband to finish banging his mistress was stealthier with the engines off.

He leaned on your passenger door, arms crossed. You did the same. Both of you released a long deep breath.

“I thought I was gonna have to tell you.”

“I thought I was gonna have to tell you,” you countered.

You both released a huff of unamused laughter.

“What are you going to do, Joel?”

“My bags are all packed, just waiting for them to finish.” His resignation was evident. “You?”

“Same here. Bags in the trunk. I was going to just leave, but I wonder if he’d even notice. So I thought I’d let him know.”

“Yep. If I died in that guest bedroom, she wouldn’t notice unless the neighbours complain about the smell and call the cops.”

You both looked at your own feet for a few minutes.

“Are you okay?” you both asked each other, followed by sad smiles from both of you. Of course you were not okay. But this would be better than staying in a relationship where you were obviously not wanted.

“Talked to a lawyer yet?”

“Yeah,” he scratched his nose. “What’s with the one-year legal separation before you divorce bullshit?”

You shrugged, rolling your eyes, “I know right? As if we’re too dumb to make up our own minds?”

Both of you scoffed, shaking your heads in disbelief.

“Where would you be staying ‘til then?” you asked him.

“My brother and his wife’s, for a while, then maybe look for a place. I don’t know how, everything’s so expensive these days. Maybe it’s time to live in a van.”

You laughed, nodding in understanding. You were shocked at how much rent was these days. No way you would be able to afford a place on your own, not unless your bakery magically sprouted elves that help bake endlessly and you open 24/7. You had Tess and Frank helping you at the bakery though, they were basically your lifesavers through this all. And of course, Eddie. Even if he’s hundreds of miles away.

“How about you?”

“Huh? Oh, I’m gonna camp in my office for a while. I own a little bakery in town, and my office would have to do until my brother moves here. He’s coming in a couple of weeks. He just bought a three bedroomed house, he and his wife were kind enough to let me stay with them, so long as I agree to babysit my niece every once in a while.”

“You own a bakery? Which one?”

“Lil Beans? Just at the edge of town, right before you get to the school?”

“Oh, my God. You own that place? I live for that rice pudding you sell! I must’ve bought like a thousand of them!”

You laughed, nodding, a bit proud that he loved that pudding. Your neighbour growing up was a Turkish family, you told him. The grandma made that pudding a lot, and you did not waste time learning from her. Well, thanks to her, his pants were a bit snug now, he told you.

The two of you laughed, forgetting the reason you were standing there for a split second.

Of course, you were snapped back into reality when the front door to his house opened. Joel whispered a good luck to you, before going inside, Jen following him, screaming profanities at him for embarrassing her in front of Max like this.

Max came to you in a robe, barefoot, his face like thunder, asking you what in the goddamned hell were you doing? It’s not enough you embarrassed him all his adult life now you want to embarrass him in front of the woman he loved?

“No, Max, I just came to give you this,” you handed him the house keys. You only took your important belongings, not wanting anything else – especially since he paid for most of them. You didn’t even take the fancy outfits, make-up and heels you didn’t like wearing, or those Skins things. Just your simple clothes, books and some of your pots and pans.

To your surprise, his expression was one of shock.

“You can’t be serious. You’re leaving me? Why?”

You rolled your eyes. “We have to be legally separated for a year before we even file for divorce, so you’ll be hearing from my lawyer. I don’t want anything, Max. I just want out. Goodbye Max. I hope you have a good life.”

You turned and got back into your car, leaving your stunned husband standing there, a look of disbelief on his face. Before you could even start your engine, the front door of Joel and Jen’s house opened again, Joel exiting with a huge traveller’s backpack and two suitcases. Jen was screaming at him as he placed those items in the bed of his truck, before going back to the garage door, taking two small boxes and a guitar case with him.

Jen’s screaming suddenly stopped.

“You can’t be serious. You’re leaving me? Why?” she shrieked.

Joel said something to her, you were too far to hear, but you were sure it was in the same tune as what you had said to Max, because she started begging him to stay, getting on her knees and taking hold of his leg. He gently lifted her up, before getting in his truck, shut the door and locked it. He must have, because she started trying to pry the door open, without any luck.

You put your seatbelt on and started the car, locking the door and putting the windows up. Max seemed to have been snapped out of his stupor of watching his mistress beg her husband into staying and began pounding at your window too.

“Wait,” he pleaded, “Lily, please, you agreed to this, remember? I’m not cheating on you. You can’t leave, I never hid anything from you. Lily, please baby, stop, please!”

You drove away, leaving him standing in the driveway of the house next door, giving Joel a little beep as you passed him. He followed you immediately, Max and Jen running after your vehicles for a bit before the hot tarred road got too much for their shoeless feet.

You got to the junction at the end of the road and turned left towards your bakery, a beep from Joel saying goodbye to you as he turned right, both of you off to start a new life without the person you once thought you were going to spend the rest of your lives with.

---

July

[blazenfire223]

Good Omens Love Letter- by @/elnorawhittaker

Day 9. Favorite GO Fanfiction-

I have multiple favs, so I'll list a few. Also, I believe 99% of these have podfic versions as well. Also, make sure to read the tags. I don't think anything listed here has anything too terrible in it, but some fics might not be your thing. Also, keep in mind that I haven't read some of these in a while, so I might have gotten some things wrong about them. Also, I'm just gonna list the links beside the name so I don't clog the post so much.

• Under Construction by SummerofSpock: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23641006/chapters/56741293

This one. THIS ONE! Oh. I have nothing but LOVE for this one! It's a human AU where Crowley works in an office in the UK and his Uncle passed away and left him with some property in his will. The property is in Oregon so Crowley has to travel there and get the place fixed up so he can sell it (I think). On his trip he meets Aziraphale, a kind handyman that has been working on the house for some years now. They fall in love. This fanfic had my ENTIRE heart! 1. It has a podfic voiced by Djap and SkyAsimaru so already it's SO GOOD!! 2. ALSO CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE END UP ADOPTING A BLACK CAT NAMED SPIDER AND AAAAAAAA 😭😭😭😭😭 AND 3. AZIRAPHALE HAS A BEARD!!! IF THAT DOESN'T SELL IT FOR YOU THAN IDK WHAT WILL!

• Choose your Princes Wisely by ZehWulf: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24484123/chapters/59097679

A fanfiction I listened to as a podic by Djap. It's about Aziraphale, who is a hero/noble character guy that has to go on a quest to make his family happy. He ends up finding a talking snake, Crowley, who tricks him into helping him find some ingredients so that he can change back to a human. It's super fun and I remember it being very cute and it's one of my fav fanfics I listened to back when I first got into the fandom!

• I Love my Lover with A-- by Dictionary Writes: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18794110

So cute and sweet. Aziraphale and Crowley wake up and give each other compliments using the Alphabet. It's a comfort fic that I occasionally come back.

• All Lines are Open by FeralTuxedo and TawnyOwl95: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44205229/chapters/112211035#workskin

THIS ONE IS SO GODAMN FUNNY I SWEAR!! It's a human AU where Aziraphale and Crowley are Local radio hosts and they DESPISE EACH OTHER! They're CONSTANTLY bickering offset and pissing each other off on PURPOSE! It's also election season there and one day they get a weird call from Shadwell about some witchcraft happening in a house nearby. Crowley, bored out of him mind and wishing for an adventure, begs Aziraphale to come with him to investigate the house. Aziraphale reluctantly goes. What they end up discovering is more than what they bargain for. Their banter in this is too perfect. It's funny asf and I remember laughing my ass off when I originally read it. The bitchy energy is off the charts.

• In Mixed Company by TheOldAquarian: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22309822/chapters/53287501

ANOTHER SUPER FUCKING FUNNY ONE OMG!! It's about Heaven and Hell going on a company trip together to some place in the U.S. (I think) because both sides need to work on understanding Earth and cooperating with each other so they can all be more successful at their jobs. Aziraphale and Crowley end up finding time to meet up and what not and Hijinks and Hilarity follow suit. There is also this really cute relationship that forms between another angel named Ithuriel and Eric and I love them so much.

• The Tales of Eden Cottage Series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1434391

This series is SOOO GOOD!! It probably won't be everyone's thing because it mainly follows OCs rather than Aziraphale and Crowley but it's SO SWEET!! The Husband's moved to Eden Cottage and then they go around helping out the people in the South Downs! There is this one kid named Joshua and I love him so much. He's autistic and reserved but he's such an interesting character! He can see the wings of Aziraphale and Crowley and knows they're not human! There is also Jo, a tired Vicar who loves her job but she really just wants to relax at home and not be bothered (especially around Christmas time). If you like outsider POVs and enjoy when Aziracrow interact with other humans then you'll LOVE this series!!

• How to Win a Lifetime Achievement Award for Services to Television (and how not to) by A lot of podficers: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30284220/chapters/74640189

This one is strictly a podfic (and is locked but you can listen to it on Literarian's Spotify if you have that) and it is SO DAMN FUNNY!! It's a human AU where Crowley and Aziraphale and 2 separate television talk show hosts. Crowley's talk show talks shit about people and Aziraphale's is very sweet and they talk about food and stuff. One day Crowley invites Aziraphale to his talk show and when Crowley tried to poke fun at Aziraphale, he ended up failing and Aziraphale said something scandalous to him which causes Crowley to do his classic "Ngk!" Sound and he ends up becoming a meme on the internet. They end up having a little beef, nothing too serious but they end up getting closer because of it and eventually falling in love. 10/10

• Getting A Wiggle On by Kadreeva: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467451/chapters/48565136

This is the fanfic that got me into the fandom. It's soo cute! Crowley gives Aziraphale a snake tank full of "snake eggs" for Aziraphale to watch as he leaves for somewhere. Aziraphale 100% believes that these "eggs" are real and so he treats them as such. He make sure they stay warm and that they know who their father is when they hatch ect. ect. Then, when Crowley comes back he's expecting a miffed Aziraphale who realized he was tricked only to be confused out of his skull when he sees ACTUAL baby snakes in that tank and Aziraphale is none the wiser to the trick Crowley had played on him. Simply happy that he was able to to help Crowley take care of his kids while he was away.

• Demonology and the Tri-phasic Model of Trauma: An Intergrative Approch by Nnm:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/20177950/chapters/47807593

Aka the Crowley gets Therapy Fanfic. It's an absolute classic fanfic in the fandom and it had to be on the list. If you haven't already read it, I highly recommend you do. It's long but damn is it worth the read! It was one of the first fics I ever listened to and it's so good.

[pentrologram]

What Normal People Do - 5

Art fair! sorry to the ghost truthers i just realised simon has brown eyes and not blue… i changed it in chapter three. idk how i got it in my head that his eyes are blue :’) ao3! ghost/soap/gn!reader (established ghoap)

I Need You Here

Johnny has been looking for a job.

Simon knew this day would come, admittedly. Crafts from Hobby Lobby would only tide Johnny over for so long before his hands grew a mind, taking him away from the private little paradise they’ve built together.

Now, Johnny often sprawled over Simon’s laptop, searching for any hands-on job nearby. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come to Simon, asking questions about the workforce since all he’s ever known is the military. They talk about handyman jobs, which Johnny seems most attracted to, assisting artists at a nearby college or even teaching an art class at the college, which revolts Johnny.

“Ae don’t ken anythin’ about art, Si!” He protests when Simon taps into the job listing.

“Sure you do. Your sketchbooks, Johnny.”

“That’s nae college level!”

He does half of the application just to fuck with Johnny.

Johnny finds a listing at the clinic you work at for a janitor. He froths at the mouth while thinking about working in such proximity to you for four days a week, but the pay brings him back down to earth. While technically they’d be fine forever with their retirement money, having extra cash could never kill them. For twelve pounds an hour, Johnny decides he can do better.

Johnny calls it quits after a week of searching for jobs. Everything he found started too early or too late, had too many days or not enough. He was either overqualified or underqualified and he was beginning to think that maybe he should go back to the military and take a civilian job because nowhere else seemed to understand his need for flexible hours. He tells Simon as much.

“No, Johnny, you just need to find your thing,” Simon says, rubbing Johnny’s shoulders reassuringly as they curl up on the couch together, Riley asleep by their feet. “It feels discouraging now, yeah, but you just might not be looking at the right stuff, y’know?” Johnny huffs.

“I’m dyin’ of boredom here, Si,” he gripes.

“I wasn’t joking about teaching that art class, you know.” He says, quietly, after a second.

“There’s no way, Si. A’m not like that. I dinnae know value from shade.” He grumbles back.

“Well, it’s the twenty-first century, love. You can sell your work. Or teach an amateur class online.”

Johnny goes quiet for the rest of the movie. He’s quiet as he takes a shower, brushes his teeth and gives Riley her last walk of the day and quiet as he crawls into bed.

He spends the next day researching things about a platform called ‘Etsy’. He barely takes breaks to eat or drink and Simon has to manhandle him to wash his hair. He spends most of the night doing whatever the hell on Etsy and Simon gives up on forcing him into bed and just falls asleep.

By the time he wakes up at 1000, Johnny is slumped at his desk, the laptop dead in front of him and covered by some of Johnny’s old charcoal figures. He sighs and cleans up the mess on the desk before putting a pillow under Johnny’s head and throwing a blanket over him. Then he makes breakfast and puts a full plate underneath Johnny’s nose, to help him wake up.

He takes Riley for her morning walk after breakfast and they detour to your apartment to say hi. You’re chirpy, finally fully recovered from the breakup as it seems, and genuinely happy to see them. Riley loves up on your legs like usual while you idly chat.

“There’s another fair coming to town next week,” you bring up.

“But didn’t we just have the strawberry one?”

“Yeah. But the college nearby is opening a new museum so they’re hosting a tiny version of one of the exhibits in a fair and bringing a bunch of local artists in.”

“Really?” Simon says, mind already churning into high gear when you mention local artists. “Johnny’s gonna love that.”

“It sounds like it’ll be his speed.” You say.

Simon nods. He has something to chew on now and he says an abrupt goodbye before going back to the apartment, hanging up Riley’s leash. Johnny is quick to pounce on him, immediately yapping about the Etsy page he made and all of his old art he put up for sale and how he’s already sold five whole pieces and needs to go ship them out.

Simon praises him, because he’s done such a good job- because, well, he’s doing something to occupy himself without leaving the relative safety of their apartment and that alone is enough to soothe him.

He tells Johnny about the fair during dinner, and Johnny lights up like the sun.

“Oh, oh, Si, can we go wi’ the bon, please, Si?” He begged with his biggest puppy eyes.

“Nn. You’ll have to ask them yourself.” He says, which makes Johnny immediately jump up to go and do just that. He’s stopped, obviously, with a sharp tug on the neck of his shirt.

“It’s ten in the night, Johnny.” He says. “Eat your damn dinner.”

“But ye said-“

“I didn’t mean right now, you bloody maniac. Calm yourself.” He says. Johnny pouts and pokes at the rest of his mashed potatoes like a child.

When Johnny does get to ask you the next day, though, he looks fully prepared to guilt trip you into agreeing. You agree without resistance, only ever so gently coaxing Johnny into going on your off day next week as opposed to that very second. He agrees only because it’s you.

Needless to say, Johnny is nothing but unbearable during the wait; talking Simon’s ear off to the point where he thinks he’ll get a permanent migraine. Thank bloody hell he’s so easily distracted by shiny things- most of the time, he was able to redirect questions about you to a collection of cross-stitch sets he had bought years ago. That, and helping Johnny pack and mail the odd dozen or so artworks that he's sold for a good dollar help keep him occupied. The works are mostly charcoals on fancy mixed media paper, all of them vaguely an unmasked Simon or the dog. It doesn't seem to matter much to the people who're buying his stuff, though.

The day finally comes, though, and Johnny sniffs you out. It’s very bloodhound-esc. You don’t seem to mind all too much, looking content to be dragged around.

Johnny first takes the three of you to a little make-your-own painting stall hosted by an oil painter located a few hours out. Johnny is utterly concentrated, leaving Simon and you to foster a quiet conversation while you paint on the provided canvases. When Simon goes to pay, Johnny shows you his painting proudly; it’s a portrait of you and Simon hunched over your portraits while engaged in a conversation. He’s somehow captured the essence of the summer afternoon and you’re entranced by how he’s painted you; the sun is almost right behind you, in his painting, and it makes your hair glow and eyes shine, even as they’re downcast.

“Wow….” You murmur, and Johnny beams, proud. Suddenly the still life you had done of the stall is no longer impressive. Johnny still insists on seeing it, forcing you to show it to him. He might be a little too generous, but still. It seems as though he means it, so what else could you ask for?

Simon comes back and he nearly mirrors your response, but he doesn’t seem as surprised as you had been. Johnny also manhandles Simon into showing his painting, but Simon is a lot more resistant. It takes Johnny squirming under one burly, hoodie-clad forearm for Simon to relent and begrudgingly show him a heartfelt landscape of simple green grasslands. Johnny still seems earnestly honest, nattering about how natural the few flowers look.

Then you’re toted to a make-your-own pottery stall, which is a lot harder than it looks. Johnny (obviously) takes to it like a fish to water after one or two bad first attempts, but neither Simon nor you take to it as quickly or smoothly. You end up coaxing a few deep chuckles from Simon with your poor attempts, but you’re not afraid to laugh at him, too, when he doesn’t do any better. Johnny makes an elegant, tall vase and Simon manages a lumpy yet characteristic mug. Your bowl is cute and has a swirly design you're rather proud of. Again, Simon pays and registers the group to be notified when the pots (as poor as yours and Simon’s were) are finished with glaze and firing.

Lastly, since by this time it was beginning to get dark, you take photos in front of painted backdrops done by different artists. They're all unique and beautiful, each done in their own, unique style. Johnny takes twenty minutes to just appreciate the artistry before making you take photos in front of his favourite backdrops with him. It’s another twenty until you’re able to rope Simon into taking one photo.

Johnny looks so utterly inspired, clutching the tote bag that holds his and Simon's oil paintings with a starry-eyed look as he takes one more look around the fairgrounds. It's awfully adorable. He begs you to just peek into a few more stalls while you wait for Simon to go to the person who ran the little photo area and get the photos printed out for you, so when you inevitably parted ways at the doorways of your apartments, you had a small 3x6” souvenir- ready to be pinned up on your wall.

<- back next ->

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Google makes millions on paid abortion disinformation

Google’s search quality has been in steady decline for years, and Google assures us that they’re working on it, though the most visible effort is replacing links to webpages with lengthy, florid paragraphs written by a confident habitual liar chatbot:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/16/tweedledumber/#easily-spooked

The internet is increasingly full of garbage, much of it written by other confident habitual liar chatbots, which are now extruding plausible sentences at enormous scale. Future confident habitual liar chatbots will be trained on the output of these confident liar chatbots, producing Jathan Sadowski’s “Habsburg AI”:

https://twitter.com/jathansadowski/status/1625245803211272194

But the declining quality of Google Search isn’t merely a function of chatbot overload. For many years, Google’s local business listings have been terrible. Anyone who’s tried to find a handyman, a locksmith, an emergency tow, or other small businessperson has discovered that Google is worse than useless for this. Try to search for that locksmith on the corner that you pass every day? You won’t find them — but you will find a fake locksmith service that will dispatch an unqualified, fumble-fingered guy with a drill and a knockoff lock, who will drill out your lock, replace it with one made of bubblegum and spit, and charge you 400% the going rate (and then maybe come back to rob you):

https://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/31/business/fake-online-locksmiths-may-be-out-to-pick-your-pocket-too.html

Google is clearly losing the fraud/spam wars, which is pretty awful, given that they have spent billions to put every other search engine out of business. They spend $45b every year to secure exclusivity deals that prevent people from discovering or using rivals — that’s like buying a whole Twitter every year, just so they don’t have to compete:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/how-a-google-antitrust-case-could/

But there’s an even worse form of fraudulent listing on Google, one they could do something about, but choose not to: ad-fraud. For all the money and energy thrown into “dark SEO” to trick Google into putting your shitty, scammy website at the top of the listings, there’s a much simpler method. All you need to do is pay Google — buy an ad, and your obviously fraudulent site will be right there, at the top of the search results.

There are so many top searches that go to fraud or malware sites. Tech support is a favorite. It’s not uncommon to search for tech support for Google products and be served a fake tech-support website where a scammer will try to trick you into installing a remote-access trojan and then steal everything you have, and/or take blackmail photos of you with your webcam:

https://www.bleepingcomputer.com/news/security/google-search-ads-infiltrated-again-by-tech-support-scams/

This is true even when Google has a trivial means of reliably detecting fraud. Take the restaurant monster-in-the-middle scam: a scammer clones the menu of a restaurant, marking up their prices by 15%, and then buys the top ad slot for searches for that restaurant. Search for the restaurant, click the top link, and land on a lookalike site. The scammer collects your order, bills your card, then places the same order, in your name, with the restaurant.

The thing is, Google runs these ads even for restaurants that are verified merchants — Google mails the restaurant a postcard with a unique number on it, and the restaurant owner keys that number in to verify that they are who they say they are. It would not be hard for Google to check whether an ad for a business matches one of its verified merchants, and, if so, whether the email address is a different one from the verified one on file. If so, Google could just email the verified address with a “Please confirm that you’re trying to buy an ad for a website other than the one we have on file” message:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

Google doesn’t do this. Instead, they accept — and make a fortune from — paid disinformation, across every category.

But not all categories of paid disinformation are equally bad: it’s one thing to pay a 15% surcharge on a takeout meal, but there’s a whole universe of paid medical disinformation that Google knows about and has an official policy of tolerating.

This paid medical disinformation comes from “crisis pregnancy centers”: these are fake abortion clinics that raise huge sums from religious fanatics to buy ads that show up for people seeking information about procuring an abortion. If they are duped by one of these ads, they are directed to a Big Con-style storefront staffed by people who pretend that they perform abortions, but who bombard their marks with falsehoods about health complications.

These con artists try to trick their marks into consenting to sexual assault — a transvaginal ultrasound. This is a prelude to another fraud, in which the “sporadic electrical impulses” generated by an early fetal structure is a “heartbeat” (early fetuses do not have hearts, so they cannot produce heartbeats):

https://www.nbcnews.com/health/womens-health/heartbeat-bills-called-fetal-heartbeat-six-weeks-pregnancy-rcna24435

If the victim still insists on getting an abortion, the fraudsters will use deceptive tactics to draw out the process until they run out the clock for a legal abortion, procuring a forced birth through deceit.

It is hard to imagine a less ethical course of conduct. Google’s policy of accepting “crisis pregnancy center” ads is the moral equivalent of taking money from fake oncologists who counsel people with cancer to forego chemotherapy in favor of juice-cleanses.

There is no ambiguity here: the purpose of a “crisis prengancy center” is to deceive people seeking abortions into thinking they are dealing with an abortion clinic, and then further deceive them into foregoing the abortion, by means of lies, sexually invasive and unnecessary medical procedures, and delaying tactics.

Now, a new report from the Center for Countering Digital Hate finds that Google made $10m last year on ads from “crisis pregnancy centers”:

https://www.wired.com/story/google-made-millions-from-ads-for-fake-abortion-clinics/

Many of these “crisis pregnancy centers” are also registered 501(c)3 charities, which makes them eligible for Google’s ad grants, which provide free ads to nonprofits. Marketers who cater to “crisis pregnancy center” advertise that they can help their clients qualify for these grants. In 2019, Google was caught giving tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of free ads to “crisis pregnancy centers”:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2019/may/12/google-advertising-abortion-obria

The keywords that “crisis pregnancy centers” bid up include “Planned Parenthood” — meaning that if actual Planned Parenthood clinics want to appear at the top of the search for “planned parenthood,” they have to outbid the fraudsters seeking to deceive Planned Parenthood patients.

Google has an official policy of requiring customers that pay for ads matching abortion-related search terms to label their ads to state whether or not they provide abortions, but the report documents failures to enforce this policy. The labels themselves are confusing: for example, abortion travel funds have to be labeled as “not providing abortions.”

Google isn’t afraid to ban whole categories of advertising: for example, Google has banned Plan C, a nonprofit that provides information about medication abortions. The company erroneously classes Plan C as an “unauthorized pharmacy.” But Google continues to offer paid disinformation on behalf of forced birth groups that claim there is such a thing as “abortion reversal” (there isn’t — but the “abortion reversal” drug cocktail is potentially lethal).

This is inexcusable, but it’s not unique — and it’s not even that profitable. $10m is a drop in the bucket for a company like Google. When you’re lighting $45b/year on fire just to prevent competition, $10m is chump change. A better way to understand Google’s relationship to paid disinformation can be found by studying Facebook’s own paid disinformation problem.

Facebook has a well-documented problem with paid political disinformation — unambiguous, illegal materials, like paid notices advising people to remember to vote on November 6th (when election day falls on November 5th). The company eventually promised to put political ads in a repository where they could be inspected by all parties to track its progress in blocking paid disinformation.

Facebook did a terrible job at this, with huge slices of its political ads never landing in its transparency portal. We know this because independent researchers at NYU’s engineering school built an independent, crowdsourced tracker called Ad Observer, which scraped all the ads volunteers saw and uploaded them to a portal called Ad Observatory.

Facebook viciously attacked the NYU project, falsely smearing it as a privacy risk (the plugin was open source and was independently audited by Mozilla researchers, who confirmed that it didn’t collect any personal information). When that didn’t work, they sent a stream of legal threats, claiming that NYU was trafficking in a “circumvention device” as defined by Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, a felony carrying a five-year prison sentence and a $500k fine — for a first offense.

Eventually, NYU folded the project. Facebook, meanwhile, has fired or reassigned most of the staff who work on political ad transparency:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/06/get-you-coming-and-going/#potemkin-research-program

What are we to make of this? Facebook claims that it doesn’t need or want political ad revenue, which are a drop in the bucket and cause all kinds of headaches. That’s likely true — but Facebook’s aversion to blocking political ads doesn’t extend to spending a lot of money to keep paid political disinfo off the platform.

The company could turn up the sensitivity on its blocking algorithm, which would generate more false positives, in which nonpolitical ads are misidentified and have to be reviewed by humans. This is expensive, and it’s an expense Facebook can avoid if it can suppress information about its failures to block paid political disinformation. It’s cheaper to silence critics than it is to address their criticism.

I don’t think Google gives a shit about the $10m it gets from predatory fake abortion clinics. But I think the company believes that the PR trouble it would get into for blocking them — and the expense it would incur in trying to catch and block fake abortion clinic ads — are real liabilities. In other words, it’s not about the $10m it would lose by blocking the ads — Google wants to avoid the political heat it would take from forced birth fanatics and cost of the human reviewers who would have to double-check rejected ads.

In other words, Google doesn’t abet fraudulent abortion clinics because they share the depraved sadism of the people who run these clinics. Rather, Google teams up with these sadists out of cowardice and greed.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/15/paid-medical-disinformation/#crisis-pregnancy-centers

[Image ID: A ruined streetscene. Atop a pile of rubble sits a dilapidated shack. In front of the shack is a letterboard with the word ABORTIONS set off-center and crooked. In the foreground is a carny barker at a podium, gesturing at the sign and the shack. The barker's head and face have been replaced with the Google logo. Within the barker's podium is a heap of US$100 bills.]

Image: Flying Logos (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Over_$1,000,000_dollars_in_USD_$100_bill_stacks.png

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[acewritesfics]

Hot Summers Day | Eddie Munson

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Request: No

Warnings: Implied friends with benefits relationship, swearing, swearing, smoking, mentions of drug use, mentions of alcoholism, underage drinking, stealing a paddling pool.

Word Count: 1,906

Tag List: Open - acewritesfics taglist sign up

Stranger Things Masterlist

Summer 1985 

Today is unquestionably the hottest day of the year. Y/N’s trailer’s air conditioning unit has broken again, and the local handyman is unavailable to repair it due to the numerous other air conditioning units in the trailer park that need to be repaired. She exits her trailer in search of some form of relief from the heat wave after deciding she can no longer endure it anymore. She finds the Ashburn children’s paddling pool to be empty and begging it to be used. 

Since the children’s mother is too inebriated to even notice where her kids are right now, Y/N is confident that she won’t even notice that the pool is missing. Sonny, the oldest of the three children, frequently takes her younger sisters out for the day, not wanting them to witness their mother’s utter stupidity in choosing the drink over them. She also knows Sonny wouldn’t mind if she “borrowed” the pool because they never use it since they are gone most of the time. 

She drags the paddling pool to where she wants it and grabs the hose, rinsing it out before leaving the hose in it to fill it up with water. She returns to her trailer and changes into the peach-colored bikini top she borrowed (but never returned) from her sister and a pair of light blue Daisy Duke denim shorts she cut up from her favorite pair of jeans to wear during the summer. She slathers on sunscreen, not wanting to deal with a painful sunburn that she could have easily avoided and gathers everything she needs to go outside. On her way back from her bedroom, she grabs her two deck chairs and a can of coke from the fridge and heads back outside. 

Y/N arranges the chairs, one of which serves as a table for her cigarettes, the book she’s currently reading, her Walkman, and sunscreen. She walks over to the outdoor tap and turns off the water before returning to the paddling pool and sitting on the empty chair as she dips her feet in the cool water. She takes a cigarette from her pack and puts it between her lips before lighting it. She picks up her Walkman and puts the headphones over her ears before pressing the play button. 

She closes her eyes, a cigarette in one hand and her can of coke in the other, as she loses herself in the soothing raspy sound of Ozzy Osbourne’s voice. 

Y/N loses track of time until she is startled by someone flicking water in her face. When she looks up, she sees Eddie Munson standing in front of her. The young man has a mischievous glint in his eyes and a smirk on his handsome face as he looks back at her. 

“What the hell, Munson?” She glares at him and removes her headphones. 

Smirking, he shrugs his shoulders, and holds out a can of beer to her. “Can you forgive me?” 

“You know, it’ll take more than a beer,” she quips as she takes the beer from him. “But please join me,” she says, shifting her belongings from the chair she’s using as a table. 

“I have some more stuff if you want to come over later,” he says. He’s referring to the weed he gets from his supplier, Reefer Rick. 

“Can we hang out at my trailer tonight?” she inquires. 

When she last stayed with him, they nearly got caught the following morning when Wayne arrived home early from work. They had just finished having sex, when they heard Wayne’s truck pull up outside the trailer. It had been a mad dash to gather their clothing and rush into Eddie’s room before Wayne walked inside. After almost being caught by Eddie’s only father figure, Y/N thought she’d die of embarrassment. Her embarrassment grew as she realized Wayne knew exactly what they had been up to when they finally emerged from Eddie’s room, her cheeks flushed and Eddie wearing a large smirk on his face after all his teasing. Wayne only shook his head and mumbled something about deep cleaning the trailer. 

Her embarrassment grew as she realized Wayne knew exactly what they had been up to when they finally emerged from Eddie’s room, her cheeks flushed and Eddie wearing a large smirk on his face after all his teasing. Wayne only shook his head and mumbled something about deep cleaning the trailer. 

“Are you worried we’ll almost get caught again?” he teases, picking up her sunscreen and puts some on himself after taking off his shirt. 

“No, I need you to fix my air conditioning unit again,” she responds, her gaze darting to the tattoos adorning his chest and arms. 

From the moment she met Eddie, she knew she was fucked. She was attracted to every part of him, from his tattoos, long wavy hair, brown eyes ripped jeans, and the hellfire club shirt he wore religiously. His big brown eyes revealed that he isn’t a complete asshole like most of the guys she knew that had his same style. Deep beneath that tough exterior is a sweet man with a kind heart who always makes her feel comfortable and safe, who can always make her laugh and smile, that gave the best hugs and makes her feel wanted and special. He isn’t overly confident, or obnoxious and arrogant. He knew how to read the room and could figure someone just by observing them. There is so much more to him than just being some freak with tattoos, that plays guitar in a band, and loves metal music and Dungeons and Dragons, with a family who was well known to the local police. If people took the time to get to know him, she knows they would like him. 

Eddie takes a seat in the empty chair, kicking off his shoes before dipping his feet into the water too. “Does Ashburn realize you stole her kids' pool?” 

“As if she’d be sober enough to notice it missing,” she scoffs, taking a drag from her cigarette and handing it to Eddie before opening her beer can. 

A silence falls over the two friends as Y/N considers the possibilities for tonight. They will undoubtedly get high, eat whatever snacks she has in her pantry, and possibly even cook something. They’ll watch a movie or listen to one of the many vinyl's she kept from her father’s collection.  

One of them will make the first move and they'll end up fucking on the nearest surface. There will be no foreplay in this first round, just rough, hard, and fast sex. Before the next round, they’ll move to the bed and share a cigarette. 

Eddie will put her needs ahead of his own in their next round, which will be a little gentler but still rough, and will last longer. When they first slept together, he paid close attention to all her reactions, learning about what she loves and hates. No matter what the situation or how he does it, he always makes sure she gets off before he does. 

He always makes her come more than once the second time, hoping to delay his own orgasm for as long as possible. Following that, he will take care of her, being as gentle as possible, cleaning her up before himself, being mindful of her sensitive areas, and ensuring she is comfortable, especially after a rough round. 

The third round will occur after they’ve slept or napped, whether for a few hours or all night. Their morning routine is always slower, and lazy with their bodies entwined and sleepy kisses exchanged in between soft gasps of pleasure. Eddie is at his most gentle during this time. 

What began as a bit of fun has evolved into something more for her. She wants to believe that she is the only one who sees the intimate side of Eddie. In their relationship, there was no commitment to each other and thinking of him with another woman hurt her. They both agreed at the start that they weren’t looking for anything serious, but as she got to know Eddie more intimately, not just physically, she found herself completely in love with him. She knows deep down that she needs to end it, and that tonight wouldn’t be a good idea if she’s going to try and distance herself from him. Eddie is her drug. She knows she’ll succumb to him as soon as he touches her. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t hang out tonight,” she says, her chest tight and her heart hurting hearing those words coming out of her mouth. “We shouldn’t do this anymore.” 

“What are you on about?” She feels his gaze on her, his beautiful brown orbs filled with confusion. 

“Forget it,” she says as she rises from her chair. She steps out of the pool and into the trailer, shutting the door behind her. 

Eddie, perplexed, worried, and irritated, throws away the finished cigarette before standing up and following her into the trailer, allowing the door to slam behind him. He finds her in the kitchen, with her hands braced on the counter and her head bowed.  

“What the fuck is going on?” 

She looks up at him, her eyes sad. “Nothing! Just-” 

“Don’t give me that bullshit!” he exclaims. 

“What do you want me to say?” she asks, her own voice rising. “That I think we should stop screwing around because it’s getting a little too serious for me?” 

“What are you trying to say?” he asks, puzzled by her words. 

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in and out, then opens them again and locks her eyes on him. She notices the concern and frustration in his eyes. Her heart begins to pound against her chest once more. “Eddie Munson, you have completely captured my heart and I’ve fallen madly in love with you.  I can’t do this friend with benefits bullshit with you because it means so much more to me. Just save me the heartache and just leave.” 

Y/N turns away from him, so she doesn’t have to watch him walk out the door. 

She doesn’t hear the front door open and close; instead, she is surrounded by Eddie’s distinctive scent of old spice, cigarettes with a hint of weed and the spearmint toothpaste that he uses. She bites her bottom lip to keep from gasping as she feels Eddie’s warm chest against her mostly bare back. His rough hands grip her hips as his soft lips kiss her neck before whispering in her ear. 

“I’m not leaving, baby, because I’ve fallen madly in love with you as well.” 

She turns her head to the side, coming face to face with him, his lips barely an inch from hers. Her gaze shifts from his lips to his eyes, searching for any hint of trickery in his eyes, but all she finds is relief and so much love that her heart soars. She twists her body in his arms as she presses her lips ferociously against his. He kisses her back with just as much love and passion as his hands move to her thighs. He slightly bends his knees and lifts her onto the kitchen counter. 

“I am fucking in love with you,” he says, pulling back enough to look her in the eyes. 

“I’m in love with you, too,” she says as she pulls him back into the kiss. 

TAGGED: @rainydayteacups - @alexxavicry

[queen-of-boops]

Summary:

Lucas had expected to spend the holidays in the city with his long-term girlfriend. Instead, she had to run off to a small town and decide to leave him for the local handyman. Tired, sore, and heartbroken, he meets someone in a similar situation, but what happens next is something neither of them could have ever seen coming.

Pairing: Lucas x Henrik

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5,135

Read on ao3 here.

Written for the reddit prompt: write a fic centered around a holiday.

Tag list: @alex-is-my-sexy-handyman @kunepie @0shewrites0 @differenttyphoonwerewolf

[mycrymes]

feel free to drop a like / comment to interact with one of the muses listed below !

welcome to lotus lofts ! ( PART 1 BC I HAVE SO MANY LOL ) below are the residents of merely three apartments in downtown new york ( ? ) ! working hard every day these tenants overcome and submit to the harsh realities of life .

sebastian alonso , 27 , he / him , bisexual , resembles anthony ramos .

meet seb ! seb lives in apartment 102 in lotus lofts . owning a small business at the corner of downtown , seb is constantly out and about . he is very well liked and respected . he could be considered everyone's brother or best friend . many nights seb allows strangers (ish) into his home if they are too intoxicated or in a bad mental space to sleep on his couch . very much an old soul as well . seb can be described as flirty , charming , sensitive , a bit dumb , ambitious , and warm !

ace regan , 24 , he / him , bisexual , resembles rudy pankow .

meet ace ! ace lives in apartment 409 with his sister freya and best friend fennec . if you have a broken pipe ? car ? device ? he is the handyman for you . ace spends most of his time doing small jobs for those in the apartment building as well as those who find his advertisements on craigslist . he also loves a motorcycle and won't hesitate to get into some pretty gnarly situations . ace can be described as rude , harsh , passionate , silly , hard working , hot headed , sexual , and protective .

freya regan , 22 , she / they , lesbian , resembles sophie thatcher .

meet freya ! freya lives in apartment 409 with their brother ace and his best friend fennec ( she tolerates him ) . recently graduated with a degree in mortuary science , freya has been job hunting for the past couple months with the part time job as a bookshop clerk . they tend to be pulled into the party scene and would easily be considered a stoner . she also is vey much into the rave / eden scene and can mostly see them clad in dark , risque clothing . freya can be described as moody , blunt , self conscious , powerful , focused , fierce , all or nothing , and protective .

fennec rivera , 24 , he / him , bisexual , resembles michael cimino .

meet fen ! fen lives in apartment 409 with his best friend ace and his bratty little sister freya ( he loves her ) . fen is what you call . . . a freeloader . agreeing to the apartment with the two he definitely had hopes to help pay and support them , but he seems to have a very hard time sticking to the plan . practically living in the club and bar scene , he ends up coming back home with a man or woman in his arms ! he dreams to be an entrepenour and own his own night club but every time he gets close something always happens . he truly means well , but , yeah lol . fen can be described as flirty , kind , gentle , stupid , sexy , ambitious , sociable , dorky , and funny .

sabrina bishop , 21 , she / her , bisexual , resembles whitney peak .

meet sab ! sab lives in apartment 218 with her older brother hudson . all sab wants to do is go to college to pursue her dreams in fashion design , but its of course far too expensive . she spends most of her time working two part time jobs -- one as a bartender in a local bar ( hi fen ) and the other as a receptionist at a fashion warehouse in an attempt to get noticed . she is often seen crocheting in her downtime and has an alarming amount of knit stuffed animals in her bedroom . sab can be described as intuitive , smart , prude-ish , opinionated , clever , warm , nervous .

hudson bishop , 25 , he / him , bisexual , resembles jonathan daviss .

meet hudson ! hudson lives in apartment 218 with his younger sister sabrina . hudson is your very favorite actor stunt double ! with a dream to become a full time actor , hudson has taken the opportunity to become a stunt man . and he actually loves it . its exhilirating and he is attempting to make connections with those in the business . when not working as a double , he tends to spend his time reading or playing video games in the apartment . hudson can be described as loving , smart , adrenaline junky , quiet , reserved , caring , over protective , worried , gruff , dense .

[moonspirit]

I was going through some outlining, and was quite floored by the number of OCs I've... made... so far. This fic started with one (1) OC and was supposed to stop with a max of three (3), and now… welp.

For my own sanity, here's a list of OCs in VBEOW:

(only the important and recurring ones)

Asa - A orphan boy from Liberio. Armin's "son".

Aoife (pronounced 'ee-fa') - A young girl in Kald facing abuse from her father. Annie's "daughter".

Oliver - Stamp maker. Kari's grandfather.

Kári Ólafsson - Annie's admirer. Oliver's grandson.

Hikari - Armin's admirer. Daughter of the woman owning the hot-springs inn.

Pekka Heikkinen - Chancellor of Kald.

Helga - The Chancellor's Secretary.

Hanna - Housekeeper to the Alliance members. Also the Chancellor's housekeeper.

Felipe - A ex-Marleyan soldier from Fort Salta. Very friendly to the Alliance members. Native Kaldian, and childhood friends with Hikari and Kari.

Gunnar - Aoife's father, a confectioner and local handyman.

Igor - A strange man who frequents the barbershop and says strange things.

Oskar König - Grand Vizier (ie, Prime Minister) of Osneau, a hostile country.

Lanzo Feld - Prime Minister of Nauland, a country that was formerly a frequent victim of Osneau's bullying. Friendly with Kald.

Hahaha that's thirteen so far... dear god. Welp. Anyway. I'm trying to keep the OCs to the minimum (T_T) but for a worldbuilding of this scale and complexity, I am forced to create these characters to help drive the plot forward. Hopefully they're interesting enough.

[onlytibki]

Straw Hat modern!AU v.1: Jobs and Random Bits of non-plot Headcanons

Yes I know Oda already gave a list and far be it from me to disagree with canon (/s) but hear me out

Jimbei - full-time activist, former soldier/bodyguard. Lorge. Still does work as a bouncer from time to time, this is how he meets Luffy.

(Does karate at the national level. Works out at Zoro's gym, teaches classes sometimes.)

Brook - musician, naturally. Classically trained, accidentally achieved popular fame after the band he was in with his old buddies for fun was scouted out. Lost his bandmates. :( Was depressed for years and just tuned pianos and guitars and other instruments until the Straw Hats brought joy to his life again.

Franky - freelance handyman. Is an engineer, has a engineering degree and certification, but no firm will hire him because he refuses to wear formal clothes (main client is the local university, they asked him only to work at night to avoid students and claims plausible deniability if he chooses not to wear shoes on his own job sites) but he doesn't mind his lot in life because fuck 'em anyway also because trauma and also he's in love with one of the profs

Robin - university professor, teaches history/linguistics/historical linguistics/archaeology. Has like four PhDs. Was wrapped up in some shadiness in Central America while a grad student, but does such high-quality work and is in love with her building's handyman that no one tries to get her in trouble for it

(Robin and Franky meet and bond over keeping the fucking ancient anthropology building both up to livable standards and eligible for the national heritage register. They talk A Lot about historical building materials and methods)

((Note I said 'up to livable standards' and not 'up to code'. Franky's nickname is short for 'Frankenstein' for what he's done to the building's wiring, though somehow it still works))

Chopper - third year med student at 15. Already accepted into the residency program Law is an attending at. Also, he has his driver's license now!! He's the DD for the Straw Hat crew when they go out to bars, and is also self-appointed booze coordinator and hits the brakes for people when he senses alcohol poisoning coming on. Not even Whitebeard Himself can argue when little Dr. Tony gives his super-serious little disapproving pout.

(No, a 15yo cannot legally drive at night, much less operate a car full of drunkards. No one tells him this because he takes the responsibility for the well-being of his friends so seriously, and also no one gives a shit, and also everyone else is drunk anyway.)

Sanji - sous-chef at Baratie (I know, I know, shocker) which is next door to Zoro's gym. He takes classes at the university so that he'll be able to run his own restaurant one day.

(If he finds the FUCKING SHITHEAD who's drawing that Sora, Warrior of the Sea-inspired comic in the school newspaper someone's gonna have to fake an alibi to get him out of murder charges. Even if he does approve of Germa 66's ugly designs and cries over Sora's successful escape and loving words to her lost son)

Usopp - physics major, art minor. Draws a weekly comic for the school newspaper called The Adventures of Sniper King. Picked up boxing due to high school requirements, works out at Zoro's gym.

(Yes it's him. He's got a yellow stripe painted down his back due to the vitriol Sanji spews at his pseudonym daily. He really didn't mean for it to take off! Sanji told them all his story once and Usopp was heartbroken because he lost his mom too and one day he got an itch and he drew a comic about what he thought Sora'd say to Sanji, or what he thought Banchina might say to him, or some weird combination--and then sent it instead of the next installment of Sniper King to his editor ON ACCIDENT and PEOPLE WANTED MORE and HE'S SO SORRY AND HE'S SO SCARED. SANJI'S GONNA KILL HIM AND USOPP WILL DESERVE IT)

((Sanji condemns him into being busboy at Baratie for a month and refuses to speak to him for three days. But he also gives him spicy ginger desserts every night for a week, because Usopp's Sora is truer to life than the original Sora in terms of the love she embodies, and because Stealth Black's rumored escape is shown in the light of triumph. Sanji could hear her in the monologue of Sora's thoughts to her son when she learned he'd escaped Germa 66's clutches. How proud she was that the circumstances of his birth and life hadn't chained him down forever. It was the first time since the age of 9 that he could clearly remember what she had sounded like because, whether through pure miracle or the shared sympathy of orphan-hood, Usopp had gotten her voice exactly right, and it soothed something old and hurting in Sanji to hear it.))

Nami - business/finance, computer science double major. She REALLY wanted to study geography and GIS systems but her family needs the money so she's tilted her dreams--she's going to build the most precise geographic information system in the WORLD and market it to rich assholes while "losing it" to low-income thieves in need.

Stole 50% of her college tuition and negotiated down the other half in a meeting the bursar's office can't actually quite remember fully? But it's their signatures on the papers.

Zoro - business major. Yes, it's as ridiculous as it sounds. No he is not passing any of his classes. But Kuina had been determined to inherit the dojo and keep it flourishing, even if her dad didn't think a woman could. Then she died; and Shimotsuki-sensei died when Zoro was in high school; and now Zoro has two dear friends' dreams on his shoulders, and damn his lack of an MBA or any common sense but he will succeed. Sanji, Nami, and Jimbe are helping.

He did rename the place, from just 'Shimotsuki Dojo' to Kuina's Asskickers, and opened it to all sports. All classes and all tournaments are co-ed, all ages. He tried to get "ASSKICKER" on the gym's competition uniforms/gi but some of his students are toddlers so that wouldn't fly, so he uses 2001 instead. People think it's the founding year and get very confused when the gym is technically 50+years old; 2001 = the number of fights Zoro lost to Kuina.

(Nami asks him why he didn't use "KUINA"; Zoro looks at her funny. "But that's not [male student example]'s name? Why would I put that on his back? Do you want people to get confused??")

((He does have Kuina's name stitched into his gi))

Luffy - biology major. HEAR ME OUT. Garp insisted he go to college for at least a semester and while still an undecided liberal arts major, Luffy discovered a whole BUILDING FILLED WITH COOL BUGS!!! AND PEOPLE GO OUT AND FIND THEM?? AND BRING THEM BACK!! THAT'S A JOB???? SO COOL!!!

So yeah. Technically he's on the road to become an entomologist, but is struggling due to his undiagnosed (but incredibly obvious) AuDHD and a lack of care for statistics (and math in general) and research writing (and reading/writing in general). Robin, Chopper, and Usopp are working HARD to get him to the general area of passing. Luffy also is getting a minor in Portuguese (which is his first language) because he plans on exploring the Amazon Rainforest looking for cool beetles when he graduates.

Ace - fire fighter with shady connections. (more later?)

Sabo - activist with much shadier connections. (more later?)

[glimpsesofeuterpe]

a super old muses list aka townies of Happy Forest (very long)

"Lampy"

Evlampius Damblovski | in early 50s | male | gray eyes, brown hair with a strange yellowish white strand in it, wears glasses despite having good vision (for facades) facts: pretends much more stupider & oblivious than he actually is while in reality he is a "nothing personal just business" kinda of calculating bastard, it seems he changes jobs every single restart (and season), often works for a local government

"Flippy"

Frank Meier | in late 30s or early 40s | male | baby blue eyes, blond hair, lots of scars, always wears his dog tags facts: sometimes too frank for his own good, tries to be friendly but ended up being a grumpy cat instead, he is an ex soldier, the only one who returned after a certain mission known as Meat Grinder which fucked him up a little beyond repairing has DID (diagnosed) Flip | ageless | he/it | red eyes, white hair, sharp teeth | often covered with blood (not his) facts: an alter (persecutor/protector?) whose purpose is to make sure Franky survives no matter what, uses any kind of methods, kills people ruthlessly, makes it extra slow and painful for those who wronged his host

"Splendid"

Mr Splendid aka Steven Smith | agender (picked 'male' for convenience) | late 20s by looks, real age is unknown | dark blue eyes, dark brown hair facts: is actually a magic alien pretending human in his free time, a classic young wannabe superhero who does his best to save people but ends up causing havoc & death instead fun facts: he just graduated from a superhero college (with plentys of efforts & mischief), got protecting an Earth for his main mission as a punishment, ended up landing on it poorly and soon found himself in Happy Forest (which is quite fortunately(?) as no one can die for good in there)

"Cuddles"

Stanley Samuel Jackson | early 20s | male | brown hair x caramel brown eyes facts: is an incredibly optimistic guy, a friendly neighbour, easy going & easy leaving, runs into trouble and dies super often ships: is best friends with Toothy, befriended almost everyone except Flippy and Mole, currently dates Giggles

"Toothy"

Charlie Taylore | early 20s | male | dark brown hair, gray eyes, freckles, his front teeth look a little bigger than others facts: is a pessimistic quiet guy, was bullied in high school until Cuddles standed up for him (follows & supports him everywhere ever since), is obsessed with sculpting figurines ships: is best friends with Cuddles, is secretly and hopelessly in love with Giggles

"Giggles"

Stacey Mayline Giggles | 20s | female | short red hair (often dyed in pink hues), green eyes facts: a local party thrower, very cheerful and rather immature ships: is best friends with Petunia, befriended and slept with nearly a half of the town has a bipolar disorder

"Petunia"

Petunia Caroline Willson | late 20s | female | long black hair, icy blue eyes, tal facts: strict but not so secretly kind, will always help others no matter what, works in an office, picks part time jobs & volunteer activities ships: is best friends with Giggles, is always there for her (is definitely a mom friend) has an OCD

"Handy"

Manuel Handyman | 30s | reddish brown hair, brown eyes facts: is a local repairer, used to craft plentys of devices as well until he lost his hands in an accident ships: is good friends with Petunia but keeps pushing her away for some reasons

"Flaky"

River Fidelis | 20s | they/she | messy brown hair, grayish blue eyes facts: is always worried and nervous, is one of a few people aware of the restarts ships: is friends with Petunia and Giggles, attempts to befriend Flippy despite their many fears has a PTSD

"Lammy"

Emily | late 20s | female | wavy blond hair, blue eyes facts: a new townie, friendly, nerdy and seemingly naive ships: is best friends with Mr Pickels

"Mr Pickels"

Mr Pickels | 40s | male | dark hair & dark green eyes, wears a top hat & shadowy dark clothes | a demon facts: is invisible for everyone except Lammy, a gentleman, is highly protective of her, kills anyone he sees as a threat to her

"Sniffles"

Morgan Cristopher Sniffles | early 30s | male | long brown hair, gray eyes facts: is a local scientist, a wannabe inventor, is too curious for his own good, is obsessed with aliens and not so secretly stalks Mr Splendid ships: lives with Nutty

"Nutty"

Nathaniel Edward Richards | late 20s | male(?) | mess of a multicolored hair (natural color is unknown), yellow-green eyes facts: an ex drug addict, a strange chaotic individual with quite a mess of a past, is obsessed with making & consuming sweets ships: lives with Sniffles

"Lifty & Shifty"

real names are kept in secret | 20s | green eyes, grabby hands, dark hair, one of them (Shifty) is always wearing a fedora hat facts: Lifty and Shifty are two twin brothers, two criminals doing heists (and constantly failing) and causing troubles for others

"The Mole"

Rodion Krotov | 40s | dark brown eyes, salt & pepper hair facts: is all quiet, emotionless and cold, he is actually a retired(?) secret agent and spy who pretends being blind ships: has a crush on Giggles, hates Mr Splendid with a burning passion

"Mime"

Victor Mayvis | 30s | male facts: an singer who lost his voice, works as a mime nowadays

"Pop"

Peter Addams | late 30s | male | reddish blond hair, light brown eyes facts: widower, a dad who means well but keeps failing at taking care of his only son way too often

"Cub"

Cadbert Addams | six years old | reddish blond hair, blue eyes facts: Pop's son, just a simple kiddo who finds (mis)adventures

"Disco Bear"

Robert (Bob) Addams | early 40s | male | light red hair, brown eyes facts: Pop's cousin, is somehow even more irresponsible regarding taking care of kids, he owns a local night club … is not the most pleasant guy to hang out with

"Russell"

Captain Russel O'Raley | 40s | male | long dark brown hair, blue eye facts: a local pirate, a fisherman who got a lot of sea stories to tell

[infamousbrad]

"He listed his most recent work as a handyman when he applied in 2018 to the South Bend Police Department, which was facing an officer shortage."

(Washington Post subscription-free gift article.)

I have cared about corrupt police officers for almost as long as I can remember, since my otherwise beloved father admitted to me, during an argument, that he had been a corrupt cop during his years with the St. Louis Metropolitan Police Department back in the '50s, when his night-shift assignment was to straight-up murder people for being on the wrong side of the color line, along Jefferson Avenue in South St. Louis, after sunset.

Whistleblower after whistleblower has come forward, especially in the last three decades, saying that fewer than 15% of the cops in the SLMPD are honest cops; even the ones who don't engage in murder, rape, or robbery cheerfully commit perjury to cover up crimes within the department.

Those whistleblowers got nowhere, and, after the post-Ferguson attempt to clean up the SLMPD, the then-chief basically said the quiet part out loud:

The choice is not between good cops and bad cops. It's between bad cops and no cops at all. There simply are not enough honest people willing to become police, and the few who do are made short work of by the bad cops and their supervisors and their union reps as soon as they even attempt to report one, let alone testify against them.

So when the South Bend police department found out that one of the cops they hired, with less training than a medium-name rent-a-cop agency gives its watchmen, turned out to be a pedophile rapist* the department absolutely moved heaven and earth to protect him, and so did the local judge. Just like they are again, right now, for a second pedophile rapist cop from the same department whose case is still going on.

Because in America, except maybe in a few fabulously wealthy neighborhoods, it's that stark: the authorities are not going to choose "no cops" over "bad cops," and those are they only choices they think they have.

*Who is also a Baptist-college educated youth minister. Pretend you're surprised that they sheltered a pedophile, too. For the third year in a row, the Southern Baptists just voted down an accountability program for sexually abusive pastors and youth pastors. I'm not saying they're all pedophiles either, but if they weeded out all the pedophiles, they wouldn't have enough people willing to work for them, either.