#plumbing fails - plumber

[lilacella]

I find the Chamber of Secrets to be such a weird idea...

We know from jkrs super thought out "wizards used to shit wherever and hex it away" post that Hogwarts did not get built with plumbing.

And yet - the Basilisk travels through PIPES. What fucking pipes? And the entrance is in a BATHROOM. A facility which - according to the wizarding worlds assigned insane defactation habits - DID NOT EXIST IN THE CASTLE.

This arises the following questions: How did Salazar Slytherin think this would work? Did he just build random pipes into the walls and the others failed to notice this? Did the chamber simply not have and entrance and MC Snake thought that someone in the future surely would figure that one out for him? (Also, what did the Basilisk eat for the hundreds of years it was locked in there? Animal cruelty!!!) And what did the person who eventually installed the plumbing and bathrooms think they were doing there? They must have seen the entrance when placing a fucking sink over a giant hole, right? Did they not question why there were pipes already? Was the plumber also beseeched by Salazars influence even after his death?

None of this makes any sense! It is almost as if someone hadn't put that much though into this

[foli-vora]

First of all

(I am sure I started following for the Dave/Marcus series)

With Javier Peña can I get F reader and

“If you die, I’m gonna kill you.” and “You’re so fucking cute.”

A medium amount of filth if possible

Ah my love! Thank you so much! You're such an amazing light in this fandom, and we love and appreciate you so much! Thank you for sending in a request! I don't know what happened but it got a bit out of hand and super soft and a bit angsty lmao, but I hope you still enjoy and the medium amount of filth still hits right! ❤️

before my eyes

javier pena x f!reader

word count: 3k warnings: idk i feel like this is a mess but i'm going with it, neighbour!javi, swearing, smoking, SOFTNESS, smidgen of angst, mention of injury/gunshot wounds/surgery, SMUT 18+ ONLY: oral sex (f), unprotected p in v

“Shit,” you curse, watching the box in your hands give way to the contents within.

The bottom gives out, your belongings spilling down the stairway, and you heave a sigh of impatience. Sweat slicks your skin, causing the flow of your dress to cling to you as you bend to try and find some semblance of organisation to the unexpected chaos thrust upon you. 

“Let me help,” a voice says from the top of the stairs, and you turn to watch the newcomer jog softly down the steps and duck to gather some of your things.

“Thanks,” you murmur, heat washing under your cheeks, “this is just what I need.”

Of course the attractive man living in your building has to catch you in a moment of mayhem. Javier, as he had previously introduced himself the day before, gives you a small smile, the yellow tinted sunglasses covering his eyes sliding down the curved bridge of his nose.

“Not having the best day?” 

“It could be better,” you reply dryly.

The plumbing in your apartment is weak at best, with a few leaks springing from the pipes beneath the sink in your kitchen and bathroom. Not to mention the shot to shit AC unit, leaving the humid Colombian air to fill every inch of every room.

“I could come and take a look,” Javier says, making a neat pile of books before sweeping them up into his arms and following you the rest of the way to your door. “I’m no plumber, but I could fiddle around with the pipes at least. I know a guy who could come out for the AC.”

“You don’t seem like the type of guy to have a tool set laying around,” you tease lightly, shifting the barely fixed box onto your hip to push open your door.

Javier grins, “You’re right—I don’t, but I have been taught a thing or two. I’m sure the Hillbilly’ll have something I could use. I can come tonight, if you want?”

“I don’t want to be any trouble—”

“You’re not—I offered.”

It may not have been any trouble for him to come over, but he certainly was trouble himself, you had quickly come to learn. The feelings he invokes in you is something you hadn’t quite felt before. He makes his desire obvious, unashamed with his light flirtations that never fail to bring butterflies flying right up your throat.

As a thank you for fixing your leaky pipes, you cook. Your first proper meal in your new apartment, and in wonderful company, too. Who'd have thought your new move would bring you here? 

Dinner is filled with easy conversation, and he expertly dodges any and all questions relating to his work. You know that he works with Steve, your new neighbour Connie’s husband, and you know by her that Steve works for the DEA.

You don’t mention work again for the night. He stays longer than you had originally expected, content to share a glass of bourbon on your couch and listen to the soft music falling from your record player.

The evening ends with no more than a kiss to your cheek, dangerously close to the corner of your lips, and your heart thunders in your chest when he remains close enough to feel his breath wash over your lips.

For a second, you find yourself wanting, hoping that he’d close those last few centimetres and grace you with the feeling of his lips over yours…

… but no.

Instead, he turns, leaving with a dangerously charming, almost teasing, smile and a quiet goodnight.

Trouble, indeed.

Weeks pass before you see him again for more than a few seconds alone or without the company of Steve and Connie, striding into the building late at night and running an anxious hand through his hair. A tough day, you assume. He would have plenty with his line of work.

You make your presence known and smile softly at him, still clad in your party dress from a night out with new friends.

“Not having the best day?” You ask gently, leaning against the railing of the stairs as the effects of the alcohol in your system bring a hazy swirl to the edges of your vision.

He stops, playing with his keys between his fingers before giving a shrug, “It could be better.”

Your stomach tightens and flips with his low rasp. The attraction is undeniable, and you’d been questioned viciously by Connie in regards to the looks you and Javier would share, or the energy that would fill the room whenever you two were close. You’d had no answers at the time, putting it down to merely a simple crush that would pass soon.

Something in your mind said differently though, that this felt like more, deeper than a silly little crush that would fade away after a few months. You hope he shares the same sentiment, but with the choices and certain circumstances he would put himself in for his job and gathering intel, you started to doubt more and more that that would happen. 

“Want me to help with that?”

It’s the remnants of various fruity cocktails bringing forth a small wave of flirty confidence. Usually you would never be so upfront, but you don’t find yourself regretting the words as soon as they pierce the air. You want it, with every inch of you.

He thinks it over for a long moment, his eyes dragging over your body with an obvious shine of desire and admiring your flattering choice of attire, but instead a slight curl pulls at the corners of his lips and your heart thuds harder and faster in your chest.

“Maybe another night, when you can actually remember me in the morning,” he teases deeply, smiling wider when you give a breathy chuckle. “You need help getting in?”

“No, I’ve got it. Goodnight, Javier.”

“Goodnight, corazón.”

That's new.

You struggle to get rid of the smile curling your lips, even long after you wave him goodbye and tuck yourself into bed. His voice lingers, images flash behind your lids as you try to sleep.

He drives you crazy.

He fills your thoughts every moment of the day—his face, his eyes, his smile. His voice would linger in your ears, the low rasp of it keeping your nerves electrified.

You look for him in the entryway coming home, you listen out for his comings and goings through your thin front door. Sometimes you even catch yourself having a little peek through your peephole when you hear him and Steve, watching as he runs a hand through his hair and ever so slightly looks towards your door before vanishing. 

It’s one night you both happen to arrive home at the same time, the humidity of Colombia sticking to your skin but relieved with the breeze that blows through the streets. He lingers, seemingly happy to chat while you fiddle with the straps of your handbag.

“You want a drink?”

The question is a welcome surprise, and you merely nod in answer, unable to quite force the words out your mouth.

His apartment is… Javier. It’s minimal, no signs of being truly lived in with photographs and knick knacks like the ones that fill your walls and tables, but the air filling it is comfortable and cosy, the music that falls from his record player familiar and calming.

Conversation flows easily.

He’s tired, the bags hanging softly beneath his eyes showing that work has been extra hard on him the last few weeks. You love that he looks relaxed with you, sinking into his couch with his head leaning comfortably on the back as it rolls to face you.

He smiles at your ramblings, laughs quietly at your stories, the crinkles forming at the corner of his eyes hitting somewhere deep in your chest. 

You don’t even realise you fall asleep until later in the night.

You wake only a few hours later, hazy and slightly confused by your surroundings, but instantly soften at the heavy breaths that fall into your ears. He’s asleep next to you, still cradling the half nursed glass of whiskey in his hands. His head rests just beside yours, his lips barely parted and breath washing past your face as you watch him for a long minute.

He needs rest. Carefully, you extract yourself from the couch and gently place your own glass on the coffee table before draping him in the coloured crochet blanket hanging just beside him and pressing a tender kiss of goodnight to his forehead.

It wakes him, his eyes half open when you pull away to leave and the sheer force of his gaze keeps you from moving away any further. He watches you quietly, his dark sleep filled eyes roaming your face before he leans up and catches your lips with his own and steals the breath from your lungs.

He moves slowly, hands roaming your legs and hips before cupping your ass and pulling you down until your knees sink into the cushions beside his hips. You settle in his lap easily, muscles loosening with each curl of his tongue along yours until you’re practically melting at his touch. 

Everything feels right.

Every moment, every kiss, every touch… God, he knows what he’s doing. He devotes his energy to you, uncaring about meeting his own end and instead selfish with the time he spends on your body. He studies it all—what makes your breath hitch, what makes your legs shake, what makes your fingers tighten and tug at his hair.

You savour every sharp exhale and groan that falls from his lips. It's not long until you're spread out on his couch, watching with wide eyes as he tugs at your underwear and throws the soaked cotton over his shoulder with a lazy smirk that radiates trouble.

He loses himself between your thighs, dress haphazardly shoved up and out of the way so he’s free to devour you as he wishes, his tongue rolling and circling over your clit and diving into the weeping entrance of your cunt until you’re breathless and incoherent.

He brings you up and over the edge again and again, until you physically think you can’t possibly give him any more, only to have him force yet another out of your system with his low rumble sinking into your ears.

So good for me, look at you. Let me feel you, so fucking good. Give it to me, come on now, corazón—

You’re bent over the arm of the couch when he finally gets sick of the dress still clinging to your frame, fingers unforgiving as they wrench the dress up and off your body, freeing your skin to his hungry touch.

They roam at their leisure, cupping the soft swell of your tits and pinching your hardened nipples until you squirm against the solid feel of him pressed up against your ass.

He ruts into you without abandon, cock hitting just that bit too far and blessing you with the sharp twinge of pain alongside the blissful feel of him dragging against your walls and you're seeing stars, clinging to the cushions as a means to keep your head straight and not lose yourself to the overwhelming ecstasy threatening to have you passing out.

He cums with his lips on your neck, mouth hot and heavy against your sweat slicked skin as he pants into the curve on your shoulder, before pressing one simple final kiss there. He lingers, pressed tightly against you and crowding you into the firm arm of the couch as he softens within you, his cum trailing a slow, hot path down the inside of your thigh.

You curl into the reassuring hand to rub along your back as you sink shakily back to sit down. You smile shyly when he reappears with a warm cloth, lazily sliding it across your skin and softly cupping it against your tender cunt to calm the ache there.

It’s intimate, the sheer closeness of the action bringing your heart to beat at the base of your throat.

Surprisingly, he asks you to stay, and your heart doesn’t calm until exhaustion claims you after your head meets his pillow, the familiar scent of his cologne and the faint traces of cigarettes clinging to the soft cotton. 

It’s a slow development. 

The next time, he comes to you, knocking on your door in the middle of the night and you let him in without a word. You cuddle into the leftover warmth on your bed long after he leaves for his own apartment to head to work, the ghost of his lips moving over your body following you for the rest of the day.

The time after, it’s his place again, but this time, he cooks. It’s the first time it feels like something more than sex, but it goes unaddressed.

You talk and talk, you learn about his father, his life before Colombia. You admit to finding your life lacking, forever wishing for something more than the mundane ���find a husband and settle down’ expectations struck upon you.

There’s something there, lingering behind the way you take each other apart.

It follows his touch, oozes from the kisses you pepper each other with. It feels nice, it feels so right. You feel comfortable in his bed, completely nude and not at all bothering to hide any part of you. It feels normal, natural even, when he lays beside you and throws out random topics of conversation with his lips around a cigarette, occasionally offering it to you and chuckling warmly when you’d attempt to inhale the harsh tobacco. You’re both unperturbed by the silence that would sometimes follow.

And that feeling never disappears, it only grows as the weeks go on.

You know you have strong feelings for him one morning when you feel him press a tender kiss of goodbye to your forehead while you’re still half asleep. It has your heart quickening, something soft and sweet and warm curling around your chest. You bathe in the glow of it. 

But it would be addressed later—you’d hate to potentially ruin whatever you have building with him by speaking on your feelings too quickly.

And then, one fateful day, it happens. It all comes crashing down around you and for the first time, you worry you'll never be able to speak the words to him.

The steady beep of the machine is somewhat comforting in the chill of the room. You barely notice it, too consumed with watching the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the light blanket covering his body. Steady, they had said, after the surgery they had rushed him into.

It hadn’t been expected, the phone call during the morning of another seemingly normal work day. Steve had sounded nervous, a first for your neighbour. He hadn’t been able to give you all the details, all you knew was that it was bad.

Shot. A bullet in his side and one in his chest. 

You had flown to the hospital, rushed in with his name falling in rushed pleas and they had shown you to the waiting room to await a doctor for more information. Steve was there, Connie, too. She had doted on you, guided you to a close seat and ordered her husband to get you a drink, a snack, anything.

Hours went by, and soon a man appeared, kindly reassuring you he had made it through with minimal issues, and was now in recovery. You were beside him within an hour.

He was warm to the touch, his pulse thrumming softly under your fingers as you had gently cradled his hand. He had remained motionless at the tender kiss you had pressed to his forehead, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he remained in the bliss of a hopefully painless sleep.

And you hadn’t moved since. Steve had left after some gentle pressing from Connie, and you had reassured him you’d call the moment he awoke. He had gripped Javi’s fingers softly, giving him one final look of worry, before turning and leaving under the arm of his wife.

Nurses come and go, checking his IV and doing their routine of observations, never worrying about their findings and erasing any of your lingering fear with a warm smile. They bring you coffee as the day bleeds into night, keeping you fed with cold hospital sandwiches and the occasional packet of sweet biscuits. 

You just want him to wake.

It’s normal, they say. Just give him time.

“Javi,” you murmur softly, leaning forward to brush his hair back for the thousandth time, “I know you need some time to get your strength back, and that’s fine, but just so you know—if you don’t wake up, and you die? I will kill you.”

As you expected, he stays silent, but you still smile, lingering to brush your fingers down his cheek softly before settling back in your seat. Your hands wrap around the arm resting in front of you, and you rest to press your cheek on his warm skin, content to watch him sleeping and losing yourself to dreams sometime into the night, too.

It’s a slight pressure on your temple that gently pries you out of dreamy darkness. It moves, sliding along your skin softly before disappearing and returning to where you’d first felt it. Fingers, you realise hazily, recognising the feel of someone stroking your face.

Your eyes flutter open, immediately to be met with a pair of tired dark eyes seemingly content in watching you. Javi.

Startled, you sit up and reach to call for the nurse, only to stop at the raspy voice that tells you to calm down.

“They already know,” Javi says quietly, throat dry and raw. “They just didn’t want to wake you.”

You turn for the jug of water and pour some into the little plastic cup, carefully plucking the straw from the table and holding it at his lips. He drinks slowly, humming from the relief of the cool liquid filling his mouth.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot,” he replies dryly, lips twitching at the corners.

“Idiot,” you snark around a grin, returning the cup to the table and linking your fingers through his. “No, really, how are you?”

He sighs, head rolling on the pillow so he can look at you better, “I’m doing okay, corazón.”

You nod, tongue running along your lips as you take reassurance from his words. He’s okay.

You tighten your fingers through his and take a small breath to calm the anxiety in your system, unaware you’re crying until you hear him breathe your name. You mumble an apology, almost embarrassed by the stream of tears, but it’s soon muffled by his hospital gown as he gently pulls you to him.

Carefully, you rest your head on one side of his chest, mindful of the thick bandaging on the other and warm at the arms that come to rest over your back.

Admitting feelings can wait. For now, you’re content to just rest in his arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart under your ear.

“You know,” Javi murmurs against the top of your head, “you’re really fucking cute when you snore.”

“I do not snore!”

-

Yeah this was a mess but I'm into it nonetheless lmao.

I haven't updated my taglists yet soz x

taglist 1: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld

[smolerthanthediagram]

Just saw a post about how studies path is different for everyone and it reminded me of how I loved the Good Will Hunting reference in Community and how it shows some interesting anti ellitist views about career choices and social class

Im adding a link of the scene in question for context but for those who can't watch it, in s1 ep24 there are some math students struggling to resolve a puzzle on a green board. Then they are gone and Troy approaches, takes a chalk, stares at the board, ans just goes away with the chalk lol, before stopping at the water machine to drink, but sees it's not working, so he then proceeds to repair it like he has been doing this his whole life. Then he leaves and two plumbers, who saw the scene, come to talk to him, too late.

First the gag is really funny, like textbook setup payoff joke, but with a double payoff because the first one is that Troy is not good at logic so it shouldnt be a surprise he doesn't resolve the puzzle. But because we all know good will hunting we are still expecting it. But this would have been unsatisfying/unfinished if Troy would have resolved nothing at all, and so instead he repairs the pipes of the water machine, and this is how we get to see his actual gift : repairing stuff.

Troy in this gag is a mirror of Will : just like him, he is in a life path that can't make him discover and exploit his true potential ; like him his speciality is almost a gift, something he has intuitively, and that he is always good at, and can get him to prestigious places (Troy later learns he is the chosen one to plumbing school AND AC repair school, and even becomes the Messiah of the latter and saves someone's life and restores justice with his gift - s3 ep 22). But on the surface, Troy has an opposite path from will : while Will starts as a janitor and ends up as a student, Troy does the opposite: he starts as a student and becomes a worker of manual labour, something that, in our world, is seen as less valuable, and a downgrade from his former status. But not in Greendale. Here the ac repair school is like this masonic organisation that controls Greendale's budget and by doing so holds the actual power, because they are the only ones who can actually guarantee their students a job at the end of their cursus.

And while it sounds crazy, it is not far from the truth. Speaking for myself, I tried (and failed) a master degree in human sciences only to find out I wouldn't have been sure to find a job with it anyways because long studies are not valuable anymore, whereas almost all the people I know who did short studies and more manual labor are in a more stable situation than me. I also have ADHD, and I'm almost sure Troy has as well which explains in part the struggling in this capitalist élitiste system. While classes give Troy a hard time to focus or study, repairing is something Troy is actually good at, and the series explains it by making a parallel with air conditioning and people, because "the true repairman will repair men" (s3 ep 22). Troy seems to actually use his high emotional intelligence (yet again something seen as less valuable than logic etc) to repair stuff because he know how things and people work. It doesn't matter if he doesn't have extended knowledge about everything because he is best at focusing on what's just before him and between his hands. This way community shows another look on manual labor and it's actual value, because let's not forget that without it the whole society litteraly falls appart.

PS : just a reminder that I know that choosing a job is very often not motivated by gift or passion because capitalism and so the ones in power need poor people who have nothing to lose to do the physical, hurting labor while the rich get to choose. This post was just taking about these jobs are seen as inferior because they are mostly done by people with low education, but that doesn't mean these jobs don't require actual skills and knowledge, on the contrary. Just wanted to clarify a bit

[noisyquokka]

I know this is a very vague request and im really sorry in advance 😭… do you think you could write some headcanons/reactions for wayv? I noticed that most nct content is for dream, sometimes 127, and rarely my wayv boys and i LOVE them 😮‍💨, i dont really have a concept in mind i would prefer if it was made with a female reader in mind but gender neutral works just as well, and idk maybe a little bit suggestive if youre in the mood for it?? Idk anyways thanks for listening and im sorry im not giving you much to work with :)

+ OMG OK I JUST SENT IN A VAGUE REQUEST FOR WAYV BUT I THOUGHT OF SOMETHING NOW, idk if you’ll see this but do you think you could do wayvs reaction to a female reader whos more dominant, not necessarily in the bedroom sense (although that too) but just someone who looks more feminine but automatically takes on more masculine gender roles in a relationship like being big spoon, or bringing home the bag, or being the one to take care of things and fix things? Again i don’t necessarily mean in a sexual way just more in a general relationship because i know you said you werent confident/comfortable writing nsfw stuff, but if you wanted to take a more suggestive route too i wouldnt be mad, youre the writer here, im just here to support 💗, thank you again!

A/N - Not me having a whole-ass brain fart on gender roles as I wrote this���but ohhhohoo I love this idea!!! I'm sorry it took forever :( also some of these are longer than others, I apologize. But I still hope you enjoy 💛 Thank you for the request, Love!

WORDCOUNT - 1,165

WARNINGS - F!reader, suggestive if you squint from the other side of the galaxy??

Kun

you had told him that you were quite independent from the beginning of your relationship

perhaps you hadn't been persuasive enough, or it didn't register in Kun's head...

because when he comes home from tour, he doesn't expect to find you in the kitchen, cursing under your breath with your head ducked beneath the sink

it appears you're too busy groveling at the plumbing to notice his presence, the clanking of metal on metal hitting his ears

"What... are you doing?" is followed by a thud! and another hushed curse as you emerge from the cabinet, rubbing at the crown of your head with a grimace

you're met with warm hands and a concerned gaze as you straighten up, adjustable wrench in your grip

"The shut-off valve for the cold water failed," you wipe the sweat from your brow, eyeing the small space you have to work with under the sink, "so I went and picked up replacements for both."

and Kun's just standing there like 'woah, babe, go off'

but also a little worried

cue the "shouldn't we call a plumber", and the "are you sure's"

it's not that he believes you're incapable, far from it!

he's just got no clue about the tricks of that trade lmao

asks if you need help

will literally sit by and watch like a curious Retriever whether you need extra hands or not (without being in the way, of course)

he has no idea where your confidence comes from when it comes to these types of things, but it's kinda... 😏

you finish the job in two hours, checking for any leaks after you turn the water back on and let the water flow through the pipes to clear the air in the lines

after this, he quickly adapts to you taking lead around the house with similar things

he's so used to being the leader/taking lead on so many things that it's so refreshing for him.

you're just the type to say "Hey, I've got it!" with no expectations

he's gonna find his ways of thanking you for the things you do btw

cooking you dinner, cleaning the entire house, buying you something you've been eyeing for forever.

also lives and breaths you cuddling him

back hugs, waking up to you pulling him back into your arms before you're both falling asleep again

this man is so content being little spoon if it means you're right there

Ten

totally into it!

I'd bet that this man goes full doting boyfriend

probably the most curious out of all the guys

would be super invested if you were an HVAC technician or something just because of how physically demanding the job is

asks you if he could tag along to work one day like an excited child

to which you tell him that it's not as exciting for him to watch considering most of the job is you crawling into tight spaces

like you'd literally be in some dusty attic, sweltering as you work

it happens anyways, because you find that your HVAC unit is outdated, so naturally, you choose to update it yourself

cue a sneaky head peeking around the corner every chance he gets because, contrary to what you had said, Ten is very entertained

the man has the biggest heart eyes for you through the entire process - which is roughly 6 hours

"your attention to detail is beyond admirable!"

"I'd say it's necessary when I'm working with electrical, Babe."

wants to learn how to do whatever it is you're working on

doesn't matter what it is you're doing

soaks up whatever you teach him

mans is a whole sponge istg

at the same time he's absolutely gonna tell you to keep being the boss-ass bitch that you are

WinWin

supportive but a lil insecure :(

like he loves you loads, supports you 100% in all that you do

but sometimes it'll make him feel like he's not doing enough in terms of your relationship

I don't see the insecurity coming from your confidence of taking on a more masculine role, but more out of worrying that his time is so limited with you and around the house so when he is home, he feels like it's not enough

feels like he shouldn't tell you at first

like it sounds a little like an excuse to be an ass

but eventually thinks it's the best thing for your relationship

y'all take communication so seriously so why start holding back over something like this

you're quick to reassure him that he does more than enough

like sir, sit down and kick your feet up, you literally do so much for me, I will write you a whole list rn

it works to a certain extent, so you offer him some options "to make up for it" cough I'll leave this up to interpretation💀

fair to say that all is better with a little communication

Xiaojun

I say this solely for his safety and benefit

do not, under any circumstances, let this man know you can do some of the things that you're capable of!!

boy is too petty and competitive to have this knowledge

I feel like he'd be the type to see you so confidently take care of yard work and the next week turns into a competition of who can complete said tasks better

he wouldn't do it to make you feel less than, or to put you in your place (as if you wouldn't set his ass straight)

he's just a little dramatic

a lil competitive

he loses almost every time 😔

either makes excuses for it ("I didn't know there were levels to the lawn mower", "the handle on my rake was broken") or stays quiet

will be whiny for a few days afterwards

you have no issue giving him something to whine about-

Hendery

full cheerleader mode!!

he literally grew up with three sisters, ain't no way he's gonna be against a strong and independent woman doing her thing

is the best assistant when you need an extra set of hands

literally the kid that holds dad's flashlight while dad fixes the car except you don't have to remind him to hold it steady

he's on top of it, baby 😎

mans takes this as seriously as performing open-heart surgery

I'm talking brows set in concentration and hands as steady as my granny threading a needle (that woman was so talented)

tools are in your hand before you've even finished telling him what you need

bro is just that good

loves helping you to the point that when you don't need his help, he's just a pouty boy in the corner

like Kun and Ten, he'll just watch and cheer you on in those instances

he is the ultimate ally

YangYang

I could see him drawn toward a woman who takes initiative in a relationship

probably finds it attractive as hell

at the same time, I could see him not caring much about traditional gender roles

sees it as a social construct that is meant to be broken

he digs how dynamic you can be in any situation, definitely!

that said, he is the reason you fix so many things 🧍🏻‍♀️

listen, him being your boyfriend does not guarantee your safety from The Menace™

feels bad about it sometimes

but like... you never complain

YangYang swears he's a magnet for finding patient people that can tolerate his antics

which is exactly why he's wrapped around your finger

MASTERLIST

[somanyfuckedupiftruebooks]

Mag 87

It's so great that Jon just assumes Georgie's worried about the tape recorder and she has to be like, 'No, idiot, I'm worried about you!' with a side note of 'I use actual recording equipment at my job.'

Georgie is trying so hard to reach out and be there for Jon and he's just like ...alright, I can take a hint. :( I'll move out. :(

Hurray!! It's Sebastian Skinner!! I often joke about statement-givers (and Archivists) being oblivious, so naturally I'm a fan of the most oblivious man in the podcast.

Okay, time to start a List of Things Sebastian Failed to Notice:

Megan is a literal mannequin with a painted on face and a suit of stolen skin.

Also, I've gone back and forth in the past on whether Megan is Nikola or not. There's definitely evidence both ways, but I think I've settled on her being a random Stranger avatar and not Nikola.

Love Megan posing dramatically in the entrance, expecting terror and screaming, and then being thrown by Sebastian's absolute inability to notice anything ever. She simply has no idea what to do with this man.

List of Things Sebastian Failed to Notice:

Megan is a literal mannequin with a painted on face and a suit of stolen skin.

The room she took him into smelled like blood because there was a pile of bodies in the corner.

There was a pile of bodies in the corner.

Also it was full of still-living decapitated heads being skinned.

List of Things Sebastian Failed to Notice:

Megan is a literal mannequin with a painted on face and a suit of stolen skin.

The room she took him into smelled like blood because there was a pile of bodies in the corner.

There was a pile of bodies in the corner.

Also it was full of still-living decapitated heads being skinned.

The people doing the skinning were not people at all.

A massive pool of blood around the drain he is actively working on.

Poor Megan, so uneqipped to deal with Sebastian's single minded focus on plumbing that she has to resort to just straight up telling him that's she's going to cut his skin off. And he still doesn't react!

List of Things Sebastian Failed to Notice:

Megan is a literal mannequin with a painted on face and a suit of stolen skin.

The room she took him into smelled like blood because there was a pile of bodies in the corner.

There was a pile of bodies in the corner.

Also it was full of still-living decapitated heads being skinned.

The people doing the skinning were not people at all.

A massive pool of blood around the drain he is actively working on.

A literal mannequin whispering threats to skin him alive.

I wonder how Megan thought this was going to go. Like, obviously she wanted to terrify the plumber and take his skin, but she's been actively trying to show him horrors from the moment he arrived. What about the blocked plumbing? It's broken and needs to be fixed, that's why she called the plumber in the first place. Unless she was just going through the phonebook and calling anyone with a thematically appropriate surname? But that doesn't make sense because the pipes were actually blocked. If she needed him to do the job, shouldn't she have been trying to hide the horrors from him until after the blockage was removed, and then take him to the flensing room?

I know it doesn't matter because Sebastian the champion simply did not see, but I'm still confused about how this was supposed to play out.

I think that Jude's presence here indicates that the Stranger and the Desolation are allied with each other in a similar way to how the Eye and the Lonely are allied. Megan called Jude in to help her clean up her flensing warehouse by burning everything down and Jude agreed because it's mutually beneficial to both their Entities.

First up, the clown costume. It's totally valid to read Megan as being Nikola, but I still think she's a seperate thing. The colours of the costume are the same as how Nikola has previously been described, but without the pom-poms that I think are essential to the look (although it's very possible that Sebastian simply did not notice them). This is a meta point, but I also think the podcast has moved on from casting Nikola as a generic clown and promoted her to the role of ringmaster. In universe, she should be wearing a ringmaster's outfit by this point.

My read on how Sebastian is involved is that Megan realised that his utter lack of ability to be aware/afraid of things being just slightly wrong makes him utterly unsuitable to feeding the Stranger, so she's offering him to the Desolation in payment for Jude's help. That's the meaning behind Megan and Jude's exchange when he arrives and the reason why Jude starts laughing.

List of Things Sebastian Failed to Notice:

Megan is a literal mannequin with a painted on face and a suit of stolen skin.

The room she took him into smelled like blood because there was a pile of bodies in the corner.

There was a pile of bodies in the corner.

Also it was full of still-living decapitated heads being skinned.

The people doing the skinning were not people at all.

A massive pool of blood around the drain he is actively working on.

A literal mannequin whispering theeats to skin him alive.

Megan may have been dressed as a clown both times he met her.

Eww plastic wrapped in raw bacon!! Yuck!!

List of Things Sebastian Failed to Notice:

Megan is a literal mannequin with a painted on face and a suit of stolen skin.

The room she took him into smelled like blood because there was a pile of bodies in the corner.

There was a pile of bodies in the corner.

Also it was full of still-living decapitated heads being skinned.

The people doing the skinning were not people at all.

A massive pool of blood around the drain he is actively working on.

A literal mannequin whispering theeats to skin him alive.

Megan may have been dressed as a clown both times he met her.

The literal mannequin wearing human skin and a clown costume coming directly at him and getting within grabbing distance.

[peaches2217]

Currently entertaining the notion that the whole reason the bros became plumbers wasn't because it was Mario's idea or because it was something they both wanted from the get-go, but because of Luigi.

Mario's the kinda guy who wants to try everything at least once. As soon as he's able to start picking electives in school, he has a blast choosing some new endeavor to undertake each semester. Luigi doesn't have much confidence in his own abilities, he doesn't really think he's good at much of anything, but failing stings a lot less when his brother's there to support him and laugh about it with him, so he enrolls in whatever Mario enrolls in and follows in his every step.

And that's how they both end up in a plumbing class their junior year of high school. They're both handy, they come from a blue-collar family, they know that's probably the same route they'll be taking after graduating (and they took the general prereq class last semester anyway), so maybe it's a given they end up there, but that doesn't even factor into the decision when it happens. They're still kids: Mario thinks it sounds fun and Luigi goes wherever Mario goes, and that's all there is to it.

And it clicks with Luigi. Mario's good at it, of course he is, he's at least decent in just about everything, but it's just one thing out of a thousand he can see himself doing. But nothing has ever come so naturally to Luigi as this has. Plumbing, of all things! He's never enjoyed something so much for its own merit, rather than the merit of sharing the experience with his brother, and it gives him a sense of confidence and identity that's almost alien in how unexpected it is.

But he's still Luigi, younger, shier, more awkward Luigi, and he still has no idea how to navigate the world without his brother by his side, and frankly, he's not sure if he wants to. He'd happily give up this newfound love of his to keep following Mario. Mario knows that better than anyone. And he's not about to let that happen.

Plumbing's fun enough, he figures, he wouldn't mind sticking with it for good. And watching his timid twin brother become brighter and bolder, if only when he's got a wrench in one hand and a plunger in the other, is enough to stoke that casual interest into a true passion, and enough to turn this random endeavor into a shared dream.

Just... Mario following Luigi for once instead of the other way around, c'mon. 😭

[twocubes]

Hi! okay beyond criticizing that particular narrative formulation i'd love to hear you elaborate on what you meant by the sublime, and what it would mean for a work to reach beyond the cognitive funhouse mirrors versus staying calustrophobic. The way you described toxic information environments that seem to trap us within our minds' illusions versus that which allows us to see beyond ourselves was particularly interesting. I would love to explore this sense of things if you have more to say about it!

especially because I feel as though I(we) are forced to navigate others' perceptions, judgements, before my own, i often feel as if who i really want to be and how i really want to percieve and act are overwritten by the social context of what others expect or insist i am and it really bothers me how seemingly easily i can be silenced like that. which is to say, I often feel as if I am trapped within just that sort of illusory layrinth and I am not confident i can reliably find that window.

i was almost definitely using the word wrong but i can try to elaborate here maybe? let's see...

...how do i put this.

like i said, we use other people to extend our perception. our knowledge of the world is first and foremost gathered from other people's observations, and only on a few points, comparatively, do we proceed entirely from first-hand observations

the problem with those sorts of funhouse mirror environments is, most precisely, that people are refusing to serve that function. you are asking for help and being denied. that is Lying. not saying untruths (one can lie by omission) but more, failing to do us the social goodwill of just allowing us to know things by their eyes rather than just our own.

it's like. an evil to do that. you blind the other person. but it's a weird contagious social evil. it turns back on you, because they, in turn, cannot help you see.

ok. similarly, who you are is exactly like. what people around you expect from you. if you are "a plumber" people expect that you "can do some plumbing". if you are "funny" people expect that you "can make them laugh". if you are "powerful" people expect that you "can get people to do things". etc. if you want to be the thing then others need to be expecting the thing from and you need to do the thing for them, right.

there is a similar betrayal, of sorts, when others expect from you things that you cannot provide/do not want to provide/do not enjoy providing, or when they refuse to allow you to be depended on for whatever. identity is set by them, and if they refuse you that, then... on some level you cannot be what you should be.

ok. in those posts, the way i was using the word "sublime" was for stuff that like. comes from outside of that. it doesn't need to get to you directly from outside — you can perceive it through others, like everything — but the point is that it is from outside of us. from reality. it is... everything that is to be observed actually, like, really observed rather than made up. it is what comes of observing the world honestly, in a way that is interested in serving the function of observation to you. you peek into something and we sometimes call that something reality. i'd say it is the undeniable, but... no, you can always deny it. it would just be either dishonest or incorrect to do so.

this is... i mean usually the sublime isn't taken to mean "literally everything that exists inasmuch as it is not yet conceived of by our minds". like, that's... probably a result of a peculiarity of the way that i conceive things; i tend to expect that anything anywhere observed in enough detail with enough honestly would go entirely beyond our ability to describe. so, forgive me :Y

so. how can we, in a work, escape from this?

well, a first reflex would be to say that we can't. stories are told by people, certainly you're not going to escape from perception by reading something someone made up, yada yada yada

i don't think that's correct. i mean like i said, you can perceive the sublime indirectly, that's fine.

my tendency personally is to think of fiction as like, worked exercises. like, the author wrote a story, they have some premises and ideas regarding how the world works, those get crystalized into the way the world works in the story, and i get to consider those things. that's... the little glint of the sublime that every story has, to me. it's indirect sublime, of course, but that's fine.

so, when you say "well this works this way because i need it to for the drama" it's like. unsatisfying. you're not serving The Function.

so my imo for this is that you should Follow Your Own Rules. like, you've posited a world, that works in a certain way by certain rules that you've agreed about with the reader, and you need to Commit To The Bit. you can arrange things for me before the story starts to get something compelling, sure, but within the story you do not accede to convenience. if your principles lead somewhere you don't like, you cannot flip over the table. putting a god in there that makes the story work the way you want it to counts as flipping over the table.

or... something. idk. thats my thinking r/n.

[moshintheteagaiwan]

T.Kettle Part 4: The Ice Machine Debacle

A few weeks in and we were starting to find out footing. I made it a daily goal that, as a manager, that I would be the polar opposite of every terrible manager I’d ever had in my life. I constantly kept my past managers in the back of my head at all times to keep myself on the right foot. It was my responsibility not just to teach my team how to run the operations or how to simply sell tea. I had to teach them about tea and lead them down the road to discovering their over relationship with the glorious leaf.

I spent plenty of time writing a binder of tea knowledge for my staff to read from, learn from, and refer to should they not know the answer to something should I not be around. I enjoyed this time a lot. Putting my tea knowledge on paper for people to learn from was awesome! This was also in part because the company did not provide any materials regarding expanding employee’s tea knowledge. In fact, after a month or two, it was very apparent that the people running this company knew absolutely nothing about tea. Never mind actually running a tea company.

There was indeed at least one person who was said to have many years of experience working in tea and had a wealth of tea knowledge. This was the person who was said to be running things as far as purchasing and developing teas and tea accessories. This person however was revealed to be an ex-DavidsTea employee who had worked in their tea development. However, he had only worked there for a couple of years, and his knowledge of tea was limited to what he was taught at DavidsTea. In fact his actual area of expertise was Italian food. Very tea related right?

Over a month into the summer and we were still waiting on our new ice machine, but in the meantime we were able to send away countless customers looking for iced teas and lattes. We may as well had just had a sign out front of the store that said, “Starbucks This Way”.

At one point I removed the signage that advertised iced teas until we got an ice machine, but this choice was swiftly overruled during a visit from a company rep who was worried that by doing so that we would lose drink customers. I explained that the sign being up was causing us to lose drink customers due to not having an ice machine, but it was like talking to a wall. However, this visit did give the final push to getting us an ice machine. The day it showed up at the store I was overjoyed. Finally we would be able to lure in drink customers needing a refreshing drink from the hot summer heat.

This is what we got.

That’s right! A tiny counter top ice machine. This was the company’s answer to over a month of requests and customer losses. A dinky counter top ice machine. This thing made enough ice for exactly two iced teas in about 3 hours. We had to refill it almost every 20 minutes, and if we didn’t it would give off the most bloody loud and obnoxious squealing sound. Countless times I had to run from a customer to fill it otherwise you couldn’t hear what the customer was saying. It also took around 30 minutes to heat up when we turned it on in the morning and another 3 hours to produce a full load of ice, so by 11am we were in business and out of iced by 11:30am.

This ice machine sadly was all we had for the remainder of the summer. We did have a glimmer of hope though. In the middle of August the company emailed us saying that they would be shipping out a brand new, full sized ice machine, and sure enough withing a few days it arrived. We unboxed it and moved it to the back room where the water connect was. However, what the company failed to realize, or even check in on first, was that this new ice machines they sent were not compatible with the old DavidsTea plumbing set up, which meant that they would need to send a plumber to change the set up and hook up the ice machine.

We waited and waited but finally a plumber did arrive. They changed the water connections and hooked up the ice machine and we were in business. Within 20 minutes we had buckets of ice. Issue was that it was now the middle of September and the summer iced tea rush was over.

You have no idea how stupid we looked telling people on a daily basis that we couldn’t fulfill the advertised iced tea selection or make lattes in a goddamn tea shop. Especially being a company that people, A) thought was DavidsTea re-branded (more on that later), and B) was advertised as being run by an intelligent business tycoon with a good mind for business.

Not long after this did I learn that I was not the only one having issues getting what was needed for basic store operation. One day a survey was sent out to each store. This survey had a checklist of basic store items such as water heaters, fridges, ice machines, ect. Each store was fill it out with what their store is missing so the company could see about filling these needs. Well, once a store filled it out, every other store could see what they wrote.

I learned that when these stores opened, none of them were inspected for what they did and did not have and this varied greatly. Some stores like myself did not have a fridge. Some did but reported they had locks on them and no keys for said locks. Some did already have ice machines but most did not. Some, and I kid you not, didn’t even have water heaters and were making hot teas using plug in, counter top burners!

I had two water heaters, and one was not calibrated properly but I considered myself lucky comparing to other stores. How could such a large company that already owned and operated so many other successful businesses miss this you may ask? Well, it is because when T.Kettle was created, no additional staff was hired to run the behind the scenes operations for T.Kettle. Meaning it was all run by the same HR department, creative department, buying department, and marketing department as the other businesses they owned which were all music and media related.

No one in any department had any knowledge or experience in the field of tea and boy did it ever show. We didn’t even have a regional or district manager even though there was over 40 stores in operation, in multiple provinces and some in the United States. And because their other brands such as Sunrise, HMV, & FYI were such large and successful brands, and T.Kettle was so new, it was the lowest on the totem pole and got the least amount time allocated to it’s operations behind the scenes. But knowledge of running a tea shop or not, their experience in running retail also called many of their basic decisions into question.

To be continued...

[star-arcana]

MY MAJOR PREDICTIONS FOR THE SUPER MARIO BROS MOVIE (SPOILER FREE-ZONE HERE)

Hello everyone, today is the first week after the premiere of the Mario Bros movie that currently got everyone hooked on the brothers...now it’s time to give my predictions in order to see if I already got the plot right:

1. Mario and Luigi were abused by Foreman Spike, and after he threatened Luigi or Mario, they start their business and this is how Super Mario Bros plumbing is born!

2. Their business is not running well and try to go somewhere big to prove themselves and after finding the warp tunnel, the story begins proper!

3. While Mario is clearing the course and already surpassed Peach’s expectations, Luigi is trying to run away from Bowser’s minions within the dark lands controlled by none other than our villain Bowser! He gets captured and Bowser tortures him in order to find out who he is.

4. There is a whole prophecy relating to Mario and Bowser fears him because of this!

5. Mario reminds the Kongs of Jumpman, who once kidnapped the Elder DK and because of this, they want some revenge...DK also gets beaten by none other than Mario, who makes the platform explode and he falls down to the ground, thus the Kongs agree!

6. Bowser gets the news thanks to his spies and orders the lad Blue Spiny shell Koopa to intercept them, which he does. Also, the Spiny Blue Koopa is the most badass character in the movie and meneacing...I am terrified of this turtle, how he smiles....ugh, terror, sheer terror, BUT COOL AND BADASS AND PROND! I bet that he not only resisted Nastasia’s mind-control, but fought against Cursa’s forces until the bitter end, where she threatened to kill all of the brainwashed Bowser minions if he doesn’t surrender his free will. Being the champion he is, surrenders to Cursa and then dies to Bowser who gets mad at Cursa and swears eternal revenge...Ok I drifted up, anyway he is going to be big and speaking of him!

7. The whole Rainbow bridge attack is going to fail for the heroes. Mario gets blasted off by the Blue Koopa and lands somewhere beaten and demoralized after his first game over...DK might be knocked down as well... The Kongs withdrew their support and Peach is without soldiers...now she has to face Bowser on her own.

8. We get a flashback on Peach’s origins...either she was born within the Mushroom kingdom with Humans parents who died because of Bowser or was an adventuress who ended up in the kingdom and took it over in order to protect it. She believes that she has to do everything on her own and would risk her life defending the Mushroom Kingdom. She picks the Halberd and challenges Bowser to battle.

9. At the meantime, Mario gives up and doesn’t want to fight anymore, believing everything to be hopeless and that this is the end of everything, he will die as a failed hero who was just some unsuccessful plumber...that is until Luigi appears, who escaped Bowser’s cluthes either with the help of the Penguins or the Luma or even King Boo...anyway he encourages his brother to fight once more and Mario does so...they might find DK and these 3 fight together against Bowser’s minions who are about to take over the Mushroom Kingdom.

10. Peach nearly defeats Bowser in her fight against him, but he uses a Macguffin against her and she loses, ending up under his clutches just before he could held her captive and promises her that if she submits to his rule and becomes his queen, he willl spare the Mushroom Kingdom...we know how this is all wrong...but anyway, Mario and Luigi fight together against Bowser and with the help of DK and Peach, they defeat Bowser, he falls into Lava and thus Mario and Luigi start their new life as heroes within the Mushroom Kingdom, a happy end with a delicious Cake made by Peach!

11. Also as a side-note, Bowser is motivated by his desire to bring back the ancient rule of the Koopa, who once ruled over the entire world a Mustached Human ended their rule and this Human is the ancestor of Mario and Luigi...

12. Post-credits has Bowser Jr with the Koopalings plot their revenge against the Mario bros for killing their father and swear to defeat them!

How true will all of this be...I wonder as well. I will know the truth later and let’s a go!

[icyspicy4u]

take their love and make it burn for you instead (chapter three)

heyyyy. chapters one and two up on ao3. ao3 link!

[REVIEW: How La La Land Fails to Make ‘Contact’ With Reality] Posted 12/14/16 by admin katiehomophobia.

Comments: Viewing 1-100 of 3.6k

pinkthingsoterrify: I cannot Jodie Foster this kind of behavior.

katiehomophobia [admin]: @pinkthingsoterrify HOLY MOTHER OF GOD.

Katya invites Trixie motherfucking Mattel into her home and turns her back on her. This is mainly due to the fact that she fears she’ll pop a blood vessel in her eye if she has to feign disinterest directly to the other woman’s face any longer.

“Sorry to interrupt your night,” Trixie says cautiously, followed by the creak of the door opening further—she must have accepted the invitation, then, stepped over the threshold. If Trixie is a vampire, Katya muses idly, she’s fucked.

“Not interrupting much,” Katya replies, still not facing her, electing to stub her cigarette out instead. Trixie Mattel is in Katya’s home. There’s still a fucking movie review with her name peppered throughout it pulled up on Katya’s computer. It occurs to her that she should rectify that, actually. “How can I help you?” she asks as she closes the tab of her broken website.

“Well, my name’s Trixie.” I know. “I’m subletting Kasha Davis’ place for a couple of months. She’s out for the night, so I can’t call her, and, um—” she gives a hissing exhale through her teeth, and Katya finally turns to face her, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying anything stupid — “my shower is broken, and I really need to fucking shower. She left your number, but I figured I’d just—” She makes a big, sweeping gesture that Katya can only assume is meant to convey come downstairs and knock on your door and absolutely turn your evening upside down because I’m Trixie motherfucking Mattel.

“Oh, the shower’s giving you trouble?” Katya asks, in a voice that sounds completely foreign to her own ears. She doesn’t fucking talk like this, like some extra from Grease. She clears her throat, adjusts her posture. “Sorry. There’s something wrong with your shower?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I know this sounds like an awful porn setup—I just figured I should consult somebody who lives here before I blow a thousand dollars on a plumber or something.” Trixie shrugs, and by god she’s beautiful, standing there in a floor-length gown like it’s nothing.

“I can come up and take a look at it, if you want,” Katya’s mouth says with absolutely no input from her brain. “The pipes can be kind of a bitch in this apartment. I assume that it’s the same story in Kasha’s.”

Trixie’s shoulders sink in relief. “Jesus, really? Thank you, I’ll owe you a meal or something—your name is Yekaterina, right?”

The full name makes Katya blink rapidly like she’s been struck across the face. The butchered pronunciation falling from Trixie’s mouth doesn’t carry quite the same weight as it did when her father yelled it in gruff, fluent Russian at her across the house, but even watered down, it has the same immobilizing effect.

“Katya,” she manages. “It’s Katya.”

Trixie nods, and although the twist of her lips tells Katya that she wants to interrogate that reaction, she doesn’t say a word about it. “Okay,” she says instead. It’s far too gentle for her to handle right now. “Katya.”

Instead of standing there dumbly for one second longer, Katya decides to grab her toolbox. It’s an old gift from her parents that she has never touched before, but by God, she will fake being butch for Trixie Mattel. She shimmies into some gym shorts and tightens her bird’s nest bun into something approximating secure, appraising herself in the mirror.

“Passable,” she says aloud.

When she strides back into the room, trying to project confidence and an intricate knowledge of shoddy California plumbing, Trixie’s standing where she left her in the living room. Her eyes are glued to the John Waters movie that’s still playing.

Katya allows herself a brief second to take it all in: there’s a gorgeous woman in a perfectly-fitted blush-pink gown standing at ease on Katya’s area rug, her mouth moving along absentmindedly to the filthy lines that Divine is spouting up on the screen, and she’s likely going to be nominated for a Golden Globe in a few hours.

“You a John Waters fan?” Katya asks loudly, startling Trixie and effectively shattering the beautiful, pink-edged peace of the moment.

“Oh, he’s my president,” Trixie says emphatically, to her credit seeming unbothered in the wake of Katya’s outburst. “I met him once at a film festival a couple of years ago and lost my mind about it.”

“Oh my god, shut up, oh my god. Shut the hell up. Really?” Katya asks, giddy and disbelieving.

Trixie grins, swipes her phone unlocked, and after a few navigational taps on the screen pulls up a photo of herself and motherfucking John Waters. Trixie looks young, wide-eyed and stunned by the flash but clearly over the moon to be standing next to her hero.

“I’ll be damned,” Katya says, shaking her head, and then grins toothily up at Trixie. “Nice peace sign.”

“Okay, whatever, I was nervous and—”

“You were a very entrepreneurial young woman making her way up in the world through the power of peace and excellent snuff film,” Katya says sagely, shifting the toolbox to the other hand.

Trixie rolls her eyes, which delights Katya to no end. She’s easy to needle, but is just as quick to give it right back, a relatively novel and exciting concept.

A lot of the time, Katya feels like she has to tone herself down when she first meets someone. Ease them in slowly to all of the barbs and the references and the flailing. Trixie is right there with her already—there is something wildly intoxicating about it.

“You got the tools,” Trixie notes, cutting a glance down to the rickety toolbox. “Instead of commenting on who I was meeting five years ago, did you perhaps want to actually do something with them?”

Katya snickers, but turns and lets Trixie lead her up to Kasha’s place, swinging the toolbox casually in her grip as they walk and trying not to objectify the next great star of America’s silver screen.

Because, well, wow. Mathematically speaking, Trixie is all curves. Bhaskara would go nuts if he saw the pink-clothed goddess his theories of sines and cosines had conspired to create. Her ass is at eye level as Katya follows her up the stairs, and she forces her gaze to her feet as her mouth goes dry.

She’s just here to fix a fucking shower (that she doesn’t know how to fix). She will put her metaphorical dick away for five minutes and muddle through this, so help her God, her unintentional months of celibacy and resulting pent-up arousal be damned.

Trixie swings the door open easily, having left it unlocked in her journey down to Katya’s place, and she holds it ajar so that Katya can follow her in.

Katya’s only met Mrs. Davis—Kasha, apparently—once or twice, but the interior decor of the apartment immediately makes sense with the personality she garnered from those brief meetings. It’s all extremely dated, gaudy pieces, once saturated with color but now more muted with age. The aesthetic of Kasha’s space seems like a hand-me-down sweater for Trixie—it doesn’t not fit her, with the blush pinks and ‘60s prints, but you can tell that it doesn’t belong to her.

She looks just a little out of place as she walks in ahead of Katya, sticking herself firmly by the pile of pink suitcases that must be hers. She points a finger over at a door with a big, garish LADIES sign on it, quintessentially middle-aged woman couture.

“That’s the bathroom,” she directs, shrugging. “I don’t know. You can give it your best shot.”

“I surely will,” Katya says, and turns her best, most winning grin on Trixie, just to see what she’ll do. She blushes a very pretty shade of pink and turns around, mumbling something about needing to find something in the myriad of suitcases.

Well. That’s an interesting response Katya doesn’t have the time to address right now.

She salutes and pushes through the door with the terrible sign, setting her toolbox down in the tub and flopping down to take a seat alongside it. She stares up at the showerhead. It doesn’t look like anything’s wrong with it, so that’s Katya’s first plan of action foiled, and when she stands up and taps it with her hand nothing magically starts working, so her second one is shot, too.

After about fifteen minutes of Katya engaging in a one-sided staring match with the faucet, Trixie shows up in the doorway sipping from a glass of wine.

“How’s it going?” she asks, her tone a little too amused for Katya’s comfort.

Fearing the jig is up, Katya purses her lips and decides to sell it even harder. Blaze of glory, and all that. “I’m going to be frank, this is worse than I thought,” she says seriously, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“Really?” Trixie asks, the teasing dropped from her voice as it’s replaced with real concern. “Fuck, did I do something to it?”

She looks genuinely worried, her brown eyes wide and fearful, so Katya gives herself a nice pat on the back for her own theatricality, which is rarely serviceable, and then drops the act to avoid fraying Trixie’s psyche further. “No, not really,” she says. “It’s just not working.”

“Jesus, don’t scare me like that,” Trixie says, grinning. Her tensed shoulders have gone slack in relief, but then she starts working her lip between her teeth as she realizes something. “I’m kind of fucked, then, aren’t I?”

“My shower’s open,” Katya offers, and then cringes a little bit at how that sounds. “I mean, you can borrow my shower tonight and I will make myself scarce when you do. If you want.”

“If I want?” Trixie parrots, mocking her with a wonderful, sly tilt to her mouth.

“I just figured you might want a chance to rinse off this cotton-candy coating,” Katya tells her, grinning at the banter, gesturing to the pink gown and pink earrings and pink detailing in her hair. She looks rosy and sugary-sweet in the lamplight of Kasha’s place. Delectable.

“Mm. You would not be wrong,” Trixie says dryly, cracking her neck to one side. “I… okay. If you’re serious, and you’re sure you don’t mind.”

Katya nods. “Wouldn’t have offered if I did,” she says cheerfully, because it’s true. “I’ll head out to the courtyard while you’re indecent, give you some space. Just stick your head out the window and shout when you’re done. Should be open.”

“I should ask you if you’re a serial killer, but you clearly are,” Trixie says carefully, and sure, Katya’s only known her for a little while, but she likes to think she can hear the edge of a smile in her voice.

She smiles back, the one that shows all her teeth, and cranes her head at a disturbing angle. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Tritzie,” she coos, and Trixie’s face scrunches up in disgust before she barks out a real laugh.

Katya hasn’t heard it before in any of the interviews she’s watched—this laugh is screechy and grating to the ears as it rises and falls like a wave. It’s such a perfectly distilled sound of human joy that all Katya can do is break right along with her, her awful smoker’s wheeze of a laugh folding in to Trixie’s scream.

“You’re a psychopath,” Trixie pants, catching her breath, holding her index fingers under her eyes to catch her tears from laughing. “Jesus Christ, oh my God.”

Katya, a little out of breath from laughing herself, just grins at her before hopping up out of the shower. “Come on, I feel like you might calcify to the floor if you stay in one place too long,” she tells her. “What’s all this for, anyway?” She gestures to the pink opulence Trixie appears to be draped in from head to toe—except her face, which is mysteriously bare.

Trixie was leading the way back out the front door, so when she stops in her tracks at the question it means she bumps into Katya. “Sorry,” she says automatically, reaching out a hand to steady her. It’s unthinkingly sweet. “Um. It was for a photoshoot.”

The walls that Katya could instantly sense when she opened the door and saw Trixie have clearly been thrown back up. She’s disappointed at first, but then a shiver of self-revulsion creeps up and down her spine at the uneven dynamic at work here, one that Trixie isn’t even aware of. Katya spent the whole day researching Trixie Mattel for her article—Trixie met Katya minutes ago, and has no idea who she is.

“Oh, cool,” she says simply, hoping the enthusiasm in her tone doesn’t come across as desperate, and drops it immediately, resuming the walk back to her apartment. Trixie will tell her if she wants to. If she doesn’t, that is none of Katya’s goddamn business. Katya already knows too much.

“Hold on,” Trixie says strongly, and it’s Katya’s turn to pause, keeping her feet rooted where they are as she turns her head around slowly like she’s in a screwball comedy. Her heart pounds. Does Trixie know too much? Did she see Katya’s computer? Does she know who she is? “Slow down. I need to find my shower stuff in these bags.”

“Oh,” Katya replies, more than a little stupidly. “Yeah, duh. Sorry.”

Trixie digs out no less than five different hair care products from one bag, then yanks a towel out from another, and then stands there working her lip between her teeth again until Katya figures out she’s probably trying to remember where her pajamas are.

“I have shirts,” she volunteers easily. “And pants, too, if you ask really nicely.”

Trixie snaps her gaze up, like she’d forgotten Katya was there. She laughs (not the same full-throttle cackle as before, which is extremely disappointing) and then releases a big sigh.

“Yeah, that would probably be easiest,” she says, pressing the heel of her free hand into her eye. “Thanks. I fucking hate moving.”

Katya almost decides to regale her with the tale of the time her mom had to move a sex doll out of her old Boston apartment, but then just as quickly decides against it. Probably not the time.

“Okay, here’s the shower,” she tells Trixie once they’re back in Katya’s apartment, the John Waters movie in the living room paused on a truly excellent expression on Edith Massey’s face. She points to the faucet, points to the showerhead. “It’s exactly like Kasha’s, but it works.”

“Mm,” Trixie says dryly, nods. She’s running out of humor, but so would Katya, if she had come out of a photoshoot of the caliber Trixie’s gown suggests and had to contend with herself to be able to take a shower.

“I’ll leave you be,” she promises, brandishing the pajamas she agonized over selecting for just a few minutes too long in her room.

Trixie snorts at the illustration of the Pan’s Labyrinth hand-eye monster over the front of the shirt Katya chose.

“Comfy,” she snarks, shakes her head, but a smile tugs at her mouth. “Thanks again, Katya. For all of this.”

“Oh, of course,” Katya says, waving a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be in the courtyard.” She jerks a thumb over her shoulder towards the window that looks out onto the pitiful little square of dehydrated grass. “Give a shout out the window when you’re done.”

Trixie nods again, then closes the bathroom door behind her. As Katya heads for the courtyard with her keys and a fresh pack of cigarettes, she hears the water start up, then the screech of Trixie’s voice: “Are you kidding me? It’s that easy?”

Katya smirks, shakes her head, then jogs down the stairs out to the front courtyard.

Sitting in the lone chair out here, lighting up a cigarette in the still of the night, makes it finally set in how fucking bizarre this all is. Katya feels like a witch. A soothsayer. She called out into the universe for Trixie, and now here she is.

She drafts a text to Willow.

So, a newly A-list Hollywood celebrity is using my shower, she types, then deletes it.

Trixie Mattel is in my home. Delete.

My pussy’s summoning powers are getting stronger, Mother… delete. She kind of stares at that one for a while, though.

She shuts off her phone without sending anything and takes an especially long drag on her cigarette. Telling anyone else about this moment feels like it’ll break it, somehow. This feels like a story to be savored, one that she should bring up on her deathbed at the last possible moment, having held it to her chest for decades but needing it to be spoken out into the universe. Once, oh, marvelous once… Trixie Mattel knocked on my door, and I lied about having plumbing expertise because I didn’t know what else to do…

Her first cigarette is dead, so she throws it to the ground, extinguishes it under her heel, and then lights another one.

The strangest part of all of this, really, after her obvious initial shock, is that it honestly doesn’t feel weird having Trixie in the apartment. She fits somehow, an impossibly tall Barbie that wound up among Katya’s матрёшка dolls and carved out a space for herself. She strikes Katya as someone who is used to that. She seems like she’s had a lot of practice carving out space for herself, in this world that doesn’t quite deserve her.

Everyone else in Katya’s life, when she first meets them, always feels a little bit like an invader. She spends so much time in her own head that real people take some adjusting to. But Trixie hopped over that hurdle easily, as if it didn’t exist, and now she’s occupying space in Katya’s head like she’s never not been there.

Is this comfort something to be concerned about? She pulls her legs up to her chest and crosses them at the ankles, puffs around her cigarette.

Addictive personalities are no joke, Mary. It’s something she has to be constantly careful of, lest she pull someone into her orbit and be unable to let them go. To extend the metaphor, it would only end in cosmic disaster—planets colliding, black holes being created, blah blah blah.

There’s a banging sound behind her that interrupts her thoughts, and when she turns instinctively she sees her window fly open to reveal Trixie. She’s lit from behind by the lamps in the living room, so Katya can’t make out her facial expression when she shouts, “Your water pressure sucks.”

“Yeah,” Katya yells back, not arguing. “Sorry.” It seems like the right thing to say, but she sees Trixie’s posture flinch.

“No, you don’t need to—that wasn’t a real complaint,” Trixie says hastily. “I—Jesus. Come up here, I hate yelling like this.”

Obediently, Katya stubs out the cigarette, wasting a couple hundredths of ounces of tobacco, and jogs back up the stairs.

“I was trying to be funny,” Trixie says petulantly as soon as Katya comes in the back door.

If seeing her in the gown, a red carpet glamoured vision, was a mindfuck for Katya, seeing Trixie Mattel in Katya’s Pale Man t-shirt that’s just a little too small and Katya’s flannel pants that are just a little too short is something else entirely. Something that hits her more squarely in the chest.

“Oh,” Katya says, intelligently. “I should’ve laughed.”

Trixie snorts, then. “You’re weird,” she says, uncrosses her arms and then starts to move before pausing where she stands.

Katya would like to kiss her, she thinks. Or ask her if that would be something she would want. She’s old, now, or older, and her methods of beguiling have dwindled to just point-blank requests.

Miss Mattel, care for a fucking?

That’s too much to say to Trixie, though, even for Katya, so instead they both just stand there, each seemingly biting something back.

“Do you like Pink Flamingos? I didn’t, really, the first time I saw it,” Trixie volunteers, still not having moved from where she’s standing by the kitchen table. “Too gross. I think I’ve only seen it the once.”

“Yeah?” Katya says. She feels stuck in a low gear, only able to supply simple one-syllable words. She clears her throat. “Wanna stay till it’s over?”

Trixie’s eyes widen. She smiles a little bit.

“Yeah, all right,” she says.

It goes back to being easy, after that one charged moment in the kitchen. Trixie sits on one end of the couch, both legs tucked under her primly, and Katya sits all splayed out on the other end. Divine stands disgusting and beautiful on the TV and bathes them in a blue-screen glow.

“Kill everyone now. Condone first-degree murder. Advocate cannibalism. Eat shit!”

Trixie mumbles the lines along with Divine from the other end of the couch, her eyes locked and unblinking on the screen. Katya giggles.

“So you said you don’t like this movie?”

“It’s fucking abhorrent,” Trixie tells her, shaking her head. “But you can’t deny that Divine kills.”

“Well, yeah, she condones first-degree murder. I know the line too,” Katya says with a smirk, dodging out of reach of the kick Trixie attempts to land on her. “How did you even find this movie? Film class?”

“No, no, there’s this film critic I love—”

Trixie sits up eagerly, her eyes alight, and hives instantly begin to prickle over Katya’s chest.

“She writes these reviews every week. Sometimes they’re for blockbusters, sometimes they’re completely off-the-wall hidey-hole flicks, and sometimes she just goes on a multi-day rampage where she watches movies by the same director for days at a time. Sometimes even the same movie.”

“What’s her name?” Katya asks, hoping her voice comes out right. She can’t really tell.

“Oh, the site’s called I Like To Watch, but she posts under Katie Homophobia—” Katya’s hives instantly get worse, she can feel it, and her cheeks flame. “Nobody knows her real name, though. It’s crazy. She’s bigger than the New York Times some weeks, and she’s completely anonymous.”

“So she’s, um. She likes John Waters, then?” Katya asks, nodding at the screen.

“Yeah, she loves the original Hairspray. She watched Pink Flamingos, too, but that one she branded as disgusting. Good, too, she gave it a good review, but disgusting—I was intrigued, so I watched it, and I agree with her. Still do,” she adds, flicking a look back up to the screen.

“So do you borrow all your film opinions from, um. From Miss Homophobia?”

Trixie scoffs. “No.” She smiles then, pleased with herself. “Just most of them.”

“I don’t really watch many movies,” Katya says abruptly, some dumbass part of her trying to push herself as far away from I Like To Watch as possible with maybe the stupidest excuse ever fathomed.

“Oh?” Trixie asks, amused, and Katya realizes that she’s looking around at all the vintage theater display posters, the original film reel of Silence of the Lambs, the tall stack of film books on the coffee table.

“New movies,” Katya amends, sort of desperately. “I don’t go to the theater much.”

“Mm,” Trixie replies, apparently satisfied with that. She opens her mouth, but then closes it immediately—something shifts in her expression, and she says nothing.

They settle back into mutual silence for the rest of the movie, Trixie occasionally making retching noises at the dog shit scene and Katya staring blankly at one part of the screen without really blinking.

Trixie Mattel is an avid reader of I Like To Watch. Well. That’s certainly something.

It’s obviously kind of terrible, another card on top of the rapidly growing stack of Things Katya Knows That Trixie Doesn’t Know and Maybe Should Share With Her, but all Katya can find herself thinking of is if Trixie has ever commented on any of her posts. If they’ve ever interacted before today.

I would’ve known, she thinks vehemently to herself. I would have felt—something.

Pink Flamingos ends, and the TV segues right into Hairspray on autoplay after the credits roll. Katya looks over at Trixie, who looks right back and shrugs before settling back into the couch cushions to watch the movie.

After Hairspray’s over, of course it’s Female Trouble up next, and then at some point while Divine is strangling her daughter onscreen over dressing like a nun Katya falls asleep.

When she wakes up, her wall clock reads seven in the morning, barely legible in the low light of dawn, and Trixie’s snoring on the other end of the couch. She looks sweet, Katya thinks drowsily.

A noise is blaring from somewhere. It’s loud enough that it makes Katya clap her hands over her ears once she gains enough consciousness to hear it and figure out where it’s coming from: the pink phone on the coffee table, presumably Trixie’s.

Trixie’s phone is doing that thing that phones do when you get so many texts that your phone can’t possibly make enough noises to notify you of them all. It’s ringing, it’s buzzing, it’s chiming, all at once, and Trixie is sleeping through the whole thing.

Katya glances over at Trixie, snoring like a train, and then it hits her.

The woman sleeping on Katya’s couch has just been nominated for a Golden Globe.

Nominations started just before six, the Best Actress category would be happening around now, it all makes sense.

Katya should wake her up, she should hold the phone to her ear, she should at least plug the phone in before it dies.

All she can get herself to do at this moment, though, is just kind of sit there in the knowledge that everything is about to change. The feeling of standing on a precipice that she had last night when Trixie looked her right in the eyes and told Katya about her own film site returns full force. It makes her dizzy.

She shakes her head in an attempt to physically rid herself of the feeling. It doesn’t work, but it loosens something enough that she reaches over to the other side of the couch and shakes Trixie awake, hard.

“Trix,” she whispers as Trixie’s eyes peel open, the nickname coming far too easy, “Trixie. Your phone’s been ringing.”

Trixie’s eyes fly wide as she scrambles to sit up, and Katya knows she figured it out, too.

“Oh, shit,” says Golden Globe nominee Trixie Mattel.

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[intoxicated-by-passion]

The Vital Overview to Plumbing: Every Little Thing You Required to Know

""

Intro: Plumbing is an important aspect of our everyday lives, yet it usually goes undetected until something fails. From guaranteeing tidy water system to keeping reliable drain systems, plumbing plays a vital role in preserving the capability and also convenience of our residences and services. Whether you are a house owner, an occupant, or an organization proprietor, having a basic understanding of plumbing can save you time, cash, and also anxiety. In this extensive guide, we will certainly explore the basics of pipes, usual concerns, as well as exactly how to resolve them, as well as pointers for preventative maintenance and also when it's time to employ the professionals.Paragraph 1: Comprehending the

fundamentals of plumbing is crucial for every homeowner. It enables you to recognize as well as resolve minor issues before they escalate right into expensive repairs. From recognizing exactly how to shut off the water in situation of emergencies to recognizing the different sorts of pipes as well as fittings, this guide will certainly provide you with the knowledge you require to browse your pipes system with confidence. We will delve right into common plumbing troubles such as dripping taps, clogged drains, as well as running toilets, reviewing possible causes and simple actions to repair and settle these concerns on your own. By learning the essentials, you can save money on unneeded service telephone calls and possibly also prevent major pipes disasters.Paragraph 2: Preventative maintenance is key to making certain the durability as well as effectiveness of your pipes system.

We will certainly share important pointers on how to look after your pipes, fixtures, as well as appliances to stay clear of usual pipes issues. From routine drain cleaning to correctly preserving your water heating unit, these precautionary actions can significantly extend the life-span of your pipes system as well as assist you avoid expensive repair work down the line. In addition, we will talk about the signs that suggest when it's time to seek expert assistance. While do it yourself fixes can be efficient, some pipes problems need the experience of a licensed plumber. We will give assistance on when to employ the specialists as well as just how to pick a reputable pipes solution provider.Conclusion: Pipes is an essential part of our lives, as well as having a standard understanding of its operations can empower us as home owners or tenants. By acquainting ourselves with the basics of pipes, knowing how to attend to usual concerns, as well as carrying out preventative upkeep methods, we can ensure the smooth performance of our pipes systems as well as prevent unneeded costs. So, whether you are managing a leaking tap, a sluggish drain, or just wish to be prepared for any type of pipes emergency, this overview has

Read more here emergency plumber durban

[mitochondriaandbunnies]

Speaking of Cannell shows failing at dialogue that doesn't sound horny

Why is this actually the beginning of a low budget adult video called like Gay Bayou Bikers or something

Main Character of the Whole Show, tonelessly, with the exuberance of an adult film star doing the 'the plumber is here and we have to speak briefly on the topic of plumbing' part of the adult film: Guess you're right about that

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Signs It's Time to Replace Your Plumbing System in North Port, FL

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North Port, FL Gas Line Repair and Installation: Ensuring Safety and Efficiency:

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[cj33333]

My Entire Plot Prediction for the Mario Movie (Purely Guesswork)

I'm basing this entirely of what I've seen skimming through the 2 trailers a couple times.

(I'm probably not even gonna end up watching this movie lol)

*Ahem*

Mario and Luigi are 2 regular plumbers in the regular world. They're actually good at plumbing and love to do it, but their business in the city is rough, and they aren't very well-known. One day Luigi gets sucked into a pipe under the sink of some shifty old lady or something, and Mario goes after him. Mario ends up in the Mushroom Kingdom looking for his brother, but can't find him. So Toad takes him to the city and to Peach, who is the only other human they know of.

Meanwhile, Bowser starts attacking places and stealing the stars from the other places (8 kingdoms including Bowser's, I'm assuming) because there has to be an antagonist.

Meanwhile meanwhile, Luigi is lost in very dangerous outlands trying to find Mario, and ends up in Bowser's way. Already having heard about Mario, Bowser is alarmed by the existence of the human brothers here.

Luigi gets kidnapped and taken to the dungeon or whatever by Bowser. Peach and Mario get what is basically a ransom threat from Bowser that Luigi is kidnapped, and they'll need to hand over the star of the Mushroom Kingdom to get him back. Peach refuses knowing that Bowser will be unstoppable if he has the stars of every kingdom, so the crew now sets out to save Luigi.

(Insert mandatory Mario training montage)

To recruit help from M O N K E, Mario has to challenge DK. He actually ends up losing but at this time Bowser attacks the M O N K E kingdom to take their star, and the leader of the M O N K E S realizes what's at hand here so they help anyways.

(Insert mandatory "I'm on my way" montage from Shrek)

On their journey, after blatantly hinting at it for a painstaking third of the movie, Mario repeatedly expresses he doesn't think he belongs here but Peach eventually reveals her backstory to him. She ended up here on complete accident like Mario, and the toads had never seen a human so they assumed she was some god or something. After being made princess and growing an emotional attachment to them, she ended up realizing there's a universe of infinite possibilities out there outside of their regular lives. A world for anyone.

Meanwhile, cut to Luigi stuck in Bowser's gay baby jail (because he still has to be relevant). Every time he tries escaping he ends up getting himself put under more and more surveillance, and he starts to wish he were back in the real world plumbing with Mario, because with Mario he felt like he belonged.

In the finale of the movie, Mario very rashly tries to take on Bowser alone to save his brother - now insisting he's trained hard enough and does belong here - but fails, and so Peach (and Toad I guess) end up being the ones to save the brothers (probably calling in the entire cast of the movie to help them because that's how the finale always goes). They force Bowser to return the stars to each kingdom. Because it's a kids movie they end up sparing Bowser, who acts like he's changed but secretly still has devious plans (hinting at a sequel with an incredible lack of subtlety).

At the end of the movie, Mario and Luigi have the choice to stay here or leave and return to the real world. They have a *very retrospective moment* and think about how they belong here. However, with this new lesson-learning, they also now feel like there's nothing in the real world really holding them back from enjoying their lives even if they're not the most successful plumbers out there. After all, they still love plumbing with each other more than anything. So they say goodbye and leave.

(Insert mandatory parallel scene of the first 10 minutes of the movie where their plumber problems are shown, except now they don't care. Someone has to fix people's toilets, and they're gonna enjoy it every step of the way)