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loliwrites · 1 year ago

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The One You Need | two

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin' love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need 🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, a bit of a misandrist mindset, past relationships, men vs boys, sexual tension, dubcon [tagging to be safe] [slight alcohol consumption but neither is drunk], verbal consent received, reader described as female, no other physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 6.1k part one | joel miller masterlist a/n: i’ve done my best to tag as thoroughly as possible, but if you think i’ve missed something, let me know. & tagging @hausofobsession because charlie's the best

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It had been three and a half weeks since move in day and a few things had become abundantly clear about your new surroundings.

1. Having your own place rocked. You did what you wanted. You answered to no one. If you wanted to have a one person dance party at two in the morning, you did. No downstairs neighbors hollered and banged on their ceiling – your floor. You could paint the walls whatever color you wanted and tear up the flooring if you had the impulse to. Nothing ever again had to be “renter friendly” .

2. Having your own place was a lot of work. There were any number of things that seemed to break, leak, or hang crooked on any given day and instead of ringing up a landlord and complaining, you could only complain to yourself… And then figure out how to fix the broken, leaky, or wonky thing. And it boggled your mind how dust and grime seemed to manifest out of nothingness. Rooms you don’t even remember stepping foot into had somehow acquired a thin film of dust. You were constantly cleaning something or fixing something, and in the most unfortunate of times, your cleaning of something resulted in you also needing to fix it. If anything, owning a home had reinforced to you that you were indeed the man in your life.

3. Joel Miller was practically the mayor of the neighborhood. Everyone knew him. It was impossible to spend any amount of time in the yard and not be bombarded with Joel Miller, Joel Miller, Joel Miller. While he wasn’t particularly outgoing, he seemed to be there when someone needed help. Whether it was Mrs. Cole with her grocery bags or the young, single mother next door to him who needed someone to put her son’s basketball hoop together. He was an everyman. And though he had helped you in a big way on your first day as part of the neighborhood, you’d spent the past few weeks dodging him as much as possible.

4. And lastly, you needed his help again. At some point during the week, a foul odor had wafted through the entirety of your home. And short of thinking an animal had crawled up and died within the walls, you began scouring the house with as much disinfectant as your sense of smell would allow. Every inch of every room was scrubbed down, and when that still didn’t get rid of the odor, you figured it was time to call an exterminator. Dehydrated, hungry, and about to snap, you opened the refrigerator and was punched in the face by warm, smelly air that burned your nose more than the disinfectant. Ah, the source.

How long the fridge hadn’t been working, you didn’t know. What you did know was that all the perishables – namely the dairy products – had certainly perished. And after three hours on the phone with a local handyman you’d found online, his ultimate advice was, “get a new refrigerator”. On a normal day, that was easily said and done. You would’ve ordered one the same day and gotten it delivered the next. Only, you’d spent the week prior throwing an obscene amount of money at new furniture to fill the oodles and oodles of empty space you now found yourself inhabiting.

You had genuinely thought about asking Joel for help that same day. At least to get the fridge out of the house because you were sure the smell wouldn’t leave until the entire appliance did. But when you looked out your window, his truck wasn’t in his driveway. And it didn’t arrive back until late that night. There was no way you were going to burden him so late, so you cracked some windows and told yourself you’d ask him in the morning. But the next morning when you Houdini’d yourself out of bed and made a pot of coffee, his truck was already out of the driveway again. An hour and a half later of throwing everything out and deep cleaning it, the fridge didn’t nearly smell as bad. And after a while, you kind of just let it be.

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Saturday. A day of rest. Except you were standing on Joel’s porch, curling your hand into a fist to rap your knuckles against his door, about to ask him to do a little work. A shred of guilt was growing inside of you. Yes, he had said to reach out if you needed something. He’d been nothing but neighborly. But you knew what you were doing. The thing where you use a boy for your gain but have nothing to offer in return.

Joel opened his front door, breathing a little heavier than normal with a sheen of sweat over his face and down his neck. He appeared to be completely clothed, but whether or not you’d caught him in a state of undress and he threw this on, you had no idea. From what you’d observed by peeking out your front window, the single mother that lived next door to him seemed to have a little bit of a crush. Perhaps that crush was reciprocated on his end.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” You squinted your eyes shut and partially shielded them with your hand.

“What?” He looked down at himself, tugging on his shirt, “no, I just got in from doing yard work out back.” Joel took a deep breath and slowly let it exhale. He remembered when he could be working hard all day and not even feel it. Now there were days when he went up the stairs in his house and got winded. “How ya’ doin?”

“Good, I… I need your help again,”

Joel grinned, something cheeky that you wanted to slap right off his face.

“Don’t look too excited about it. My fridge is on the fritz and it’s too heavy for me to move,”

There was a part of him that wanted to bring to attention that this was the second time in less than a month that you were coming to him for help. Ultimately he thought better of it. The hard line of your lips and narrowness of your eyes clued him in that you were waiting to rebuke anything he might say. Instead he disappeared from the doorway, leaving you utterly confused, only to return a minute later with an old metal toolbox in hand. He stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind him.

“No, it’s not getting fixed. I’m getting a new one,”

He quirked his eyebrows and looked down at you, “that fridge is only three years old.” He stepped off his porch and started toward your house.

You took a few quick steps to catch up with him, falling in line and then keeping up that pace to stay even with him. It did look like a fairly modern make. “How do you know that?”

“‘Cause I helped Mrs. Wilson get it in her house three years ago. I’d told her to get that fridge because I knew it’d last. Now unless you or Mrs. Wilson did something on it that it’s not meant for, it should still be perfectly fine.”

“What’re you implying?”

Joel shot a wink in your direction, “you have any male suitors over lately? Get a little frisky in the kitchen over dinner?”

Your jaw dropped as you followed Joel up your porch steps. “No! You can see my house from your house. You know I haven’t had anyone over,”

“I don’t spy on my neighbors.” He walked through your door after you’d opened it for him, “are you spyin’ on me?”

“No, I’m not,” you protested, leading him into the kitchen and directing him toward the problem appliance. “But I do know that next-door neighbor of yours, fancies you,”

“Fancies me?”

“Mhm. She twirls her hair every time she talks to you,”

Joel set the toolbox down on the counter and angled his body at the fridge, “does she now?” He wrapped his arms around it, fingers gripping to the sides, and began to shimmy the entire thing out from its little cubbyhole.

The whole display was rather impressive. Despite actively not yearning or searching for a relationship, acts of masculinity did get you going. It was the double-edged sword that lived inside you. Boys – can’t live with them; can’t live without them. Just because you couldn’t rely on men, didn’t mean the desire to sleep with them wasn’t there. But even you knew, that under no circumstances, were you to sleep or have any sort of sexual contact with Joel Miller. Even if he was a rugged display of masculinity. With sinewy muscles that strained beneath his skin when he flexed them. And fingers that surely knew how to wrap around more than just the handle end of a hammer. He was your neighbor. You weren’t going to shit where you ate. But by God if he didn’t look like a delicious meal.

It’s the reason you picked up so quickly on the tell-tale signs of attraction by Little Miss Next Door Neighbor. She was looking at him the way all women did when they wanted to be swept up by a man. They wanted to be handled, and led, and submissive. Something you could never be. To a man? Absolutely not.

This argument you were having with no one but yourself was interrupted when Joel called your name with a tone that indicated to you it wasn’t the first or second time he was calling it. You blinked and focused your eyes, finding he was only partially visible – most of him being shrouded by the fridge that he now stood behind.

“S’not working because it’s dirty. Do you have a handheld vacuum?”

Approaching him, you contorted your body around it to sneak a peek at what he was looking at. “It stopped working because it’s dirty?”

“Could be somethin’ faulty inside, but the condenser coils and gasket seals are a mess. My guess is it’s just that,”

“I called some handyman and he told me I needed a brand new fridge,”

Joel peeked his head out to look at you, “why you callin’ some random handyman when you got one ‘cross the street?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “I was going to but you worked weird hours this week and were never home when I looked out my window.”

“So you are spying on me,” he chuckled. “That’s why you’re jealous of Kelly,”

“Who’s jealous?!” It wasn’t lost on you that your voice rose about an octave or two higher than your normal register. You were sure Joel clocked that, too. “I’m just making sure you know she’s got a big ol’ schoolgirl crush on you,”

“She doesn’t ‘cause we’ve gone out before and it wasn’t a match.”

“Does she know that?”

“I’d say she does,”

You smirked, having a little fun poking the bear. “How do you know?”

“Because when a woman gets naked and propositions a man for sex, and he says no, it’s usually a pretty definitive sign.”

“Yeah, right,” you laughed incredulously, “no man looks at a woman who’s ready to fuck and says no to her.”

“This man does,” he looked you dead in the eyes and held your gaze. “You got a vacuum?”

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The resoluteness of Joel’s answer had honestly come as a shock. It was something you knew you’d want to circle back on at some point simply because of how insane it seemed. A straight guy turning down sex from a woman? He had to have been the first man in history to do so. The thought kept you busy while your refrigerator kept him busy. Coincidentally, you both became significantly less busy around the same time.

“It works again?”

Joel plugged the fridge back into the wall and stepped out from behind it. He wiped his hands in a rag you’d brought out for him, which just happened to be one of your old, white t-shirts. He didn’t seem to care. Or notice. “Gotta give it a few minutes. See if it’s gettin’ cold,'' he looked up at you, noting how you began to get a little more fidgety, looking around. He wasn’t sure why; perhaps just itching to get him out of your house. “You got any food for dinner?”

“Yeah,” you said half-heartedly, thinking about how you were about to endure yet another day of some sad, canned soup. “I can whip up a can of something,”

He shook his head and waved you off, “come by tonight. I’ll fix you a meal,”

“You just fixed my fridge.”

“Maybe,” he smiled.

“I should be cooking you a meal,”

He shook his head vehemently, “I haven’t eaten chicken noodle soup since I was about nine, and I don’t aim to start up again.” He pulled open the fridge door, set his hands on one of the shelves and decided it was slightly colder than it had been just a couple minutes prior. “It should be good to go now,” he loaded up his toolbox and locked it up. “Swing by around seven. If you stand me up, I’m coming back over here and breaking the damn thing,”

“Joel,”

“Seven.”

With that, he was out before you could protest again. Somehow both of you knew you’d be showing up to his house that night. Annoyance bubbled up at your surface with the realization that not only did you know you weren’t going to disobey him, but he knew it too. The few hours between him leaving and you showing back up on his porch for dinner had been spent sulking. Whatever this was becoming – you weren’t sure what just friendship looked like with a boy because no single, unattached boy you’d ever met only wanted friendship – was getting to be too much. There needed to be a line drawn in the sand. You needed to draw the line in the sand. And more importantly, after the line was drawn, you and Joel needed to be securely on opposite sides of it.

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But curse this man and his ability to put ideas in your head. Horrible, awful, domestic ideas. The sorts of ideas that made you think this image of him: on the back porch with a beer in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other, a dish towel slung over his shoulder for quick access, flipping over and inspecting a couple steaks, chewing on his bottom lip as he pondered how close to medium they were getting… was an image you could get used to seeing.

It was how all boys in the past had gotten you.

They wooed you with their little acts here and there of masculinity. Or their wit. Or just cute looks. They made you believe that they were different. That they were honest, and open, and evolved. And you’d get sucked in and follow the white rabbit down the hole. For a while it’d all be good. You would actually believe that you had found an evolved man that you could coexist with and be happy. But after the momentary bliss, you’d come to realize that the wool had been pulled over your eyes. You’d been deceived and lied to. The boy could not manage his own emotions, let alone understand yours. You’d sit in the anger that you betrayed your sense of self to make room for this boy, and only when you’d talked yourself far enough off the ledge, you’d explode like a time bomb. Afterwards, a tiny piece of you would be the only thing left to go around picking up all the other little fragments of yourself. And you’d put yourself back together with tape and a promise that you wouldn’t ever allow another to break you like that again. That is, until another boy found his way to you and made you think he was different. And thus the cycle continued.

“You have family out here?” Joel looked up from the barbecue and took a sip of his beer while he waited for you to answer.

Taking a step forward and buying some time by swigging down a gulp of your beer, you shook your head. “They’re all in California still. Just had to get away. What about you?”

He nodded and closed the grill, “Sarah’s a few hours away at school and her mom’s ‘bout a half hour away. But my brother’s here. I work with him actually,”

“You must be close with him,”

Joel nodded absently.

“But no wife for Joel Miller,” you smiled, half-hidden by your bottle. “I take it no girlfriend either since apparently you don’t like getting laid,”

He laughed. It was the first real, hearty laugh you’d heard from him. It seemed to shake his whole body and he opened the grill back up and plucked the steaks off it, depositing them on an awaiting plate. “I like getting laid. It might be my favorite thing to do,”

“That’s why I think you’re full of shit. Turning down, what’s her name…”

“Kelly…”

“You’re telling me,” you approached Joel slowly, got right up close to him, and dragged a delicate finger over one of his shoulders and down his bicep to prove a point. “A woman… an attractive woman, I’d say… stripped down in front of you, told you to have your way with her, and you said no thanks,”

Joel watched your finger. His tongue poked out of his mouth quickly to lick his lips before he flashed his eyes back to you, obviously finding great pleasure that his gaze in this close proximity made you avert your own eyes downward. “Exactly,”

You half-smiled and shook your head as you took a step back, “bullshit.”

He shut off the grill and scooped the plate up. “Explain to me why you think that’s bullshit,” he meandered past you and pulled his back door open, allowing you the chance to walk in first before he followed you in.

Instinctively, you progressed into the kitchen, where two stools at the counter were awaiting with place settings. You perched in one while Joel set the steaks down by you and continued to the oven where he pulled out a tray of roasted vegetables. “Because you’re a guy,”

“Man,” he corrected and started placing food on your plate.

“A man,” you mocked. When he finished giving you food and moved onto his, “thank you. And men don’t do that. They chase pleasure. They get their dick wet and they move on down the line, leaving a path of destruction in their wake,”

This time, Joel waited to respond until he was seated next to you. He clinked his bottle against yours, “thanks for coming over.”

“To be honest, I was actually afraid you’d blow up my fridge and I can’t really afford a new one right now,”

“But I’m gonna have to disagree with you,” he focused on his plate and cut into his steak. Seemingly pleased with the degree with which it was cooked, he took a first bite. “Men don’t only care, as you so delicately put, about getting their dick wet.”

“Joel, come on, you know…”

“Boys do. For sure. A boy would look at you, a beautiful woman, and see a direct path to his pleasure. Absolutely. And a boy probably wouldn’t care too much about whether or not you were getting as much out of it as he was. ‘Cause he’s getting his, right?”

You nodded, silently pushing a mixture of steak and veggies into your mouth, enraptured with where he was going to take this conversation. And slightly unable to concentrate past the point of having heard him call you beautiful.

“Men don’t do that. A man would look at you and see that yes, you’re a beautiful woman. But he’d also see that you’ve got a helluva brain, and you’re witty, and funny, and more than a little stubborn. He’d see that you hold yourself and everyone else to a high standard, and he’d want to meet it. And when he slept with you, he’d want to make sure you were getting more out of it than he was,”

Awe-struck was the only word to describe how you felt. Was a guy actually verbalizing everything you already believed? That there was a difference between boys and men. And that most guys thought they were men simply because of their age, when you knew age meant nothing in defining a man.

Joel took a deep breath and finished off his beer, “I turned Kelly down because I knew if I slept with her I’d be taking on a lot more than I wanted to with her. And despite whatever your experience with men might be, this one’s not out to leave a path of destruction behind him.”

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What were these complicated feelings inside of you? Someone who prided themselves on being emotionally intelligent and level-headed and yet… you were spinning like a top. On the one hand you wanted to keep everyone a safe arm’s length away, and on the other you wanted Joel to scale the walls you’d constructed and fortified around yourself. For a long time there was an odd sense of accomplishment at how tall and strong you’d managed to build them. Look at how good they were at keeping people out. But now there was someone in front of you that you thought you wanted to let in – only in constructing your walls, you never put in a gate. And that ribbon of apathy, and the moments of enduring loneliness, maybe it was all self-inflicted.

Who knew how to hurt you better than you?

The beer helped dull those thoughts. Finishing off the second as the conversation meandered through Joel’s last relationship. A topic that would’ve given you supreme pause, and yet he recounted it with ease as if he were just a court reporter, tasked with jotting down the facts. He even acknowledged his role in the dissolution of that relationship. His eyes seemed to glaze over and travel to a distant land as he described all the ways he didn’t measure up. How he was never quite what that woman wanted. And how he had no idea how to become what she wanted. On the flip side, he admitted she’d started off as someone that only saw the moon with him. She’d kept some nights from being too cold and lonely. Only when a certain amount of time passed, did she speak up and sort of declare a relationship was there.

That conversation ended when a third bottle was grabbed for each and moved to the living room. Both on the couch, you with your back pressed up against one of the arm’s of it. Your knees bent with feet planted securely on the cushion. And Joel sitting as close as he could with your legs creating a physical boundary between you. Even his thigh covered your toes, as if seeing how close to the boundary he could get. Despite feeling like this was someone you wanted to let through your walls, however temporarily, your brain still managed to cut off any inkling from your heart – using your body as the vehicle to keep everyone at bay.

“Hmm?” Joel hummed and grabbed your attention back to the present. “‘S’not fair leaving me hanging after I just spilled all my gory relationship details. What about yours?”

You shook your head, trying to appear innocent, “there’s not much to say.”

“Say anything,”

Staring at him, you took a deep breath and a generous sip of your new beer. Then feeling on the good side of buzzed, you stretched forward to move for the coffee table. Seeing your plight and the awkwardness of the angle given that you weren’t inclined to lower your legs to make the action smoother, Joel leaned forward, gently took the bottle from your hands and set it on the table for you.

“He was nice at the start. A bit older than me. I thought it meant we’d be on the same wavelength for once, y’know? That he’d outgrown the frat boy, tool bag phase and moved into a more evolved one. It got physical quick and it was… awful.” You glanced down at your hands, remembering for the first time in a while about what sleeping with that guy felt like – a trial run with hari-kari, complete and self-inflicted betrayal.

With your pause and sensing obvious discomfort, Joel reached across his body and got a loose grip on your shin. He gave it a soft squeeze that felt like permission to stop if you were so inclined. But it didn’t hurt like it used to; as if you had been able to remove yourself from the equation and were now just recounting the plot of some terrible film you’d seen once.

Shrugging and with a half-smile he couldn’t place, you looked back up at Joel, “he had a good time.”

“Was it ever good for you?” He mumbled as though he didn’t actually want to hear the answer. And because you hadn’t reacted in any way to his hand on your shin, he took a chance and used that grip to lower your leg across his lap.

“No, but I’m a helluva actress.”

He raised his eyebrows and absently took hold of your other leg and lowered that one across his lap, too. Now the literal barrier you’d put between you had been carefully circumvented. “He never stopped to figure it out?”

You shook your head, “he was getting his, Joel. See, it’s hard to figure out when you’re dealing with a boy. They hide it well,”

Joel reached forward and set his half-empty beer next to yours on the coffee table. When he reclined back to his previous position, his hands migrated to your feet and squeezed them with a familiarity of an old married couple who’d been practicing this dance for decades.

“It ended two and a half years ago, so a distant memory,”

He only nodded. You thought he’d have something about that. Something like what’ve you been doing for two years without a man. But maybe he figured you were doing just fine. Probably better. So he only squeezed your feet again before his hands migrated a little further north to your knees, fingers just barely dipping between your thighs that you’d managed to keep pressed together. Finally he asked:

“No fillers in the meantime?”

It made you laugh. Any number of innuendo could be applied to his question. It was also at this point that you felt your resolve fading. The will to keep him at bay becoming less of a conscious effort. “No fillers. Not really my style,”

“Not a one night stand kinda girl?” He smirked and shot a playful glance at you. There was no chance he was unaware that the press of your thighs together had lessened. Any further action of his hand would’ve resulted in him going wherever he wanted, however he wanted. But he didn’t. His hand remained where it was, gaining no further purchase and adding no extra pressure.

“Would you be if sex was never good for you?”

He chuckled and threw his head back against the couch, “fair enough.” He shook his head, absently staring at the ceiling. Only when he’d gathered his thoughts and words did he shift his gaze back to you. “People are simple creatures,” there was a slight pause and though you opened your mouth to refute that, he continued first. “I mean the biology part. It’s not hard to get a woman off,”

“Okay, hotshot. Let me go get a horn for you to toot a little louder,”

He grinned widely, showing off nearly every tooth in his mouth. The look made you smile as well – like a kid getting caught opening presents before Christmas. “There’s a lot of hard tasks in this world,” he pursed his lips and shrugged, “making a woman come isn’t one of them.”

The heat you’d felt rising in your chest and neck after he’d successfully moved your mattress into your bedroom was returning. Only this time, you felt it settle in your cheeks, and you wondered if he was aware of it. Your eyes were glued to him, wide, trying to pick up on as much visual information they could get. What you found was Joel adding the slightest of pressure between your knees to spread your thighs just enough for him to pivot on the couch and face you squarely.

You swallowed down a lump in your throat, eyes flicking over the sight of him: the way graying curls moved across his forehead, or the way his eyes never left yours. Not even for a second. Not even when he was positioning himself closer to you, kneeling back on his shins with his thighs nudging yours upward at an angle. He smiled softly, a gentle thing that instantly put you at greater ease, and leaned in closer to you, planting his hands on the couch on either side of your chest.

“Can I kiss you?” His focus wandered down to your lips when they parted.

In all your years of life, no one had ever asked that, and it took you aback, scrambling to make sense of the English you believed you were fluent in. But you nodded quickly and assumed that would’ve been the green light. Probably would’ve for most people, but as you were coming to learn, Joel wasn’t quite like most people.

He smiled and bowed his head, taking a breath to gather himself. In the meantime, his hair was close to your nose and the muskiness of his scent was everything you thought and wanted it to be. He raised his head and looked at you again, his eyes practically pleading. “Can we make that verbal?”

“Yes,” you exhaled. But when it didn’t result in his lips meeting yours with haste, you tried again. “Kiss me,”

Like a fire ignited under him, Joel closed the rest of the gap between you. Hands drifting to your cheeks, he cupped your head with the most practiced of ease and pressed his mouth to yours, first with closed lips to test the waters before the next action was the parting of his lips on yours. His tongue searched for entrance into your mouth, finding it when a soft breath was exhaled.

While trying not to talk yourself out of this moment, you also tried to think about the last time you’d been kissed like this. Or kissed at all, period. But like this, with want, and desire, and passion. Like all of Joel was made for this exact moment: to kiss you with the intention of every fiber of his being; to make your brain go foggy and blur out everything that did not add to this need. It was as if he could sense you slipping away from him, focused elsewhere instead of letting yourself buy into this, and he recaptured you with a soft bite to your lower lip. He re-positioned his hands; one at the side of your neck and jaw, and the other gripping onto your hip, adjusting you further until your ass was pressed up against his crotch.

He forced himself to pull back, slight enough to be able to speak but still close enough to press his forehead against yours. “Stay with me. Don’t go somewhere else,”

Your instinct was to protest, that you weren’t about to leave, but realized he’d picked up on the thing you were wondering about. The thing no guy had ever picked up on, or cared to, before. The distance your brain was willing to create between itself and your body.

“Joel,” you whispered, sounding slightly more needy than you would’ve hoped.

“I know,” he murmured back. His hand ditched your hip for a split second and took hold of your wrist. Led it up over his shoulder and to the back of his neck, until the backs of your fingers brushed along the ends of his hair. Without fail, you softly clutched into it. “Stay with me. Right here,” his hand went back to your hip and your lips reconnected. Open-mouthed with his tongue pressing into yours. He tilted his head to the side and groaned into your mouth, sending a vibration down your throat, past your chest, through your stomach, and straight to your core.

You hummed back into his mouth, for once closing your eyes and letting yourself live in the feeling his lips could administer. The heat that had already been living in your cheeks seemed to amplify with the size of him around you. His broad shoulders meeting a wide chest that seemed to dwarf you. Large hands that effortlessly cupped around your hip or engulfed your cheek. He was everywhere at once and when he ducked his head lower to kiss your neck, landing a love bite on your jugular, it took extra measures to keep yourself grounded and there for him.

Your hand slowly released the hair at the nape of his neck, and slid down over his shoulder to his chest, followed the seam at the side of his t-shirt until your fingertips reached the hem at the bottom. With fingers tucking beneath the fabric and meeting the skin at his oblique, you felt him exhale a hot breath against your neck, his hips shifting beneath you. As you ran your hand north, you took stock of the muscles your fingers passed, and how while still present and firm, they’d grown less pronounced with age. A softness to his body that he’d earned the right to after years of hard labor. Or so you assumed by the feeling of calloused hands on you.

Gauging what you wanted from him as your hands worked their way upward, pushing his shirt up with them, he groaned not wanting to take his lips off your neck, but doing so anyway to sit back. With a swift motion, he tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor unceremoniously. He wiped his hand down over his mouth and shook his head as if in disbelief as he pressed his hands back into the couch on either side of you, “god, you’re fucking gorgeous.”

His eyes danced their way over every feature on your face as if trying to commit them to memory, before they drifted lower, down to where your hips met his. But all this unadulterated looking sparked a flame of timidness inside you, and your instinct to quell the nerves was to grab for him, urging him back to you. If he was busy with his lips on you – any part of you – it’d keep his eyes from boring holes into you. His lips met yours again with fervor, this time forcing his tongue into your mouth. A helpless moan floated out of your throat and Joel responded by laying a hand at your neck. Fingers around it but applying no pressure.

“Bed. Please,” you whispered so low you wondered if you had wanted him to hear it or not.

But it was like he was attuned to you and your body more than any previous guy had been. And in hearing your request, he moved his lips back to your neck and you felt a smile spread across his face, pressing against your skin.

“Please tell me you’re not drunk,” he mumbled against your skin. So tight that it distorted his words and had you humming for instant clarification. He lifted his head and looked back down at you, as if his eyes alone would be able to figure out the answer. “Drunk?”

You ran your hands up to his chest, “on two and a half beers?”

“That’s not an answer,” he let out a breath and drifted his hand from your neck, down to your chest where he gave one of your breasts a squeeze. You noticed at the same moment, he reached around to your ass but avoided it to simply adjust himself in his jeans.

“I’d have to be drunk to want to sleep with you?”

“I reckon it’d help,” he grinned boyishly and bent in again for another tongue-led kiss as though he couldn’t help himself.

You grabbed either side of his face in your hands and curled your fingers into his beard. “Not drunk, just want you,” there was a lack of movement on his end and you weren’t sure if he was short-circuiting or trying to figure out if someone your size could indeed get drunk on two and a half beers. Either way, you tapped his ribs, “now, if possible.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #almost there in part 3 #the one you need #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #au #neighbor!joel

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eightyonekilograms · 1 year ago

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What are the left-NIMBYs' policy positions? What are the YIMBY policy positions? I mean I know what they are in a broad sense (more regulation on constructing housing vs. less), but I'm curious to know in more detail. Obviously some regulation is good (living in California, I'm glad there are standards for earthquake safety), and some is bad (I'm generally against single-use zoning for a bunch reasons you probably agree with). The basic supply and demand stuff and how it affects the cost of housing is obvious enough to me, but the weeds of how specifically regulations should be changed in light of this seems like a more complex issue.

I don't identify as either a NIMBY or a YIMBY; this discourse is somewhat foreign to me, but I probably have some mixture of NIMBY-sympathetic and YIMBY-sympathetic positions, and I'm interested in getting a better picture of the details of the debate from someone who clearly knows a lot about it.

Also as an aside, if you have any good sources of information you can recommend on the present state of housing policy in San Francisco, and/or how it's changed over the years, I'd be very interested in them.

At least from my POV, left-NIMBY policy prescriptions generally seem to fall into one of three camps (arranged from least to most radical):

non-zoning regulatory updates to try and make housing more affordable; the canonical example being adding low-income requirements to new housing developments

large expansions in government-funded housing projects, possibly to the point of having all housing construction be government-funded

"housing can't be fixed until we abolish capitalism"

Each of these has a flaw, although they need to be analyzed separately.

The people in camp 1 are well-intentioned, but unfortunately in practice they are useful idiots for the people who want less housing to be built (landlords, homeowners who want to Preserve the Neighborhood Character, the aforementioned BlackRock investors from my original post, etc.). Those people know full well that the actual effect of attaching more requirements to new housing construction is that less new housing (of all kinds, low-income, high-income, etc.) gets made, because projects which were just-barely profitable get pushed into being unprofitable, and so they don't happen. Obviously individual cases vary, but in general, if you say "you can't build those 50 new housing units unless you also add 15 low-income units in that development" is not that you get 50 market-rate units and 15 low-income units, but that you get zero new units. Which helps nobody.

This is one example of a depressingly common pattern where left-NIMBYs unfortunately make it very easy for themselves to get played like a fiddle by people who say they have the interests of low-income renters at heart, but absolutely do not. As I said, the sorts of "wealthy suburban single-family homeowners" who go to their community meetings and demand that new construction include low-income unit requirements are doing that to murder low-income housing, but because it's an invisible murder (since the development simply doesn't happen), those homeowners with their In This House We Believe signs can keep saying they want to help the poor get housed, while guaranteeing that won't happen.

With camp 2, in general it seems to me like a lot of them aren't paying attention to what YIMBYs actually say, and instead have built up a strawman in their mind of YIMBYs as diehard anti-government libertarians. Some of them are, but most YIMBYs— myself included— do want more government-funded construction and think it definitely should be a part of a comprehensive solution for housing affordability.

The issue is, if you want government-funded housing, the government still needs to pay for the land, and the construction. And if land and construction are more expensive than they could be because of limited supply and burdensome, then the government has to pay more for this housing, and gets less for its money. I know a lot of left-NIMBYs tend to scoff at fiscal/budgetary constrains, but they are a real thing, if only because eventually you'll get voter revolt, and if you have X dollars of taxpayer money to spend on new housing construction, it would surely be better to make that X dollars go as far as possible and build maybe 5,000 units instead of 1,000. This is a case where the libertarian and socialist views do not need to be opposed and can in fact work in concert: the more land reform you have, the cheaper land gets and so the more bang for you buck you get. So even if you are a Camp 2er, you should support YIMBY policy reforms anyway.

The people in camp 3, well... I wanted these posts to be as factual and non-ideological as I could, but at some point there's no getting around the fact that camp 3 is delusional. We're not going to abolish capitalism, at least not any time in the foreseeable future. It could happen in succeeding decades, but in the meantime, wouldn't it be nice if people could have an affordable place to live now? Note that there are differences in housing affordability across areas, based mostly on to what extent they have YIMBY-like policies in place, so the claim that only abolishing capitalism can help seems empirically wrong. (And if the response to that is that helping people now is bad because it would delay the revolution, that's when I start yelling and pounding on my keyboard again. Accelerationism is fundamentally a monstrous, evil ideology, gleefully throwing people under the bus for the sake of a fantasy world).

#i know a lot of people are rightfully asking for sources for a lot of this stuff and I do want to get to that #it's just competing for time with other things

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dollsonmain · 1 year ago

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For people that missed it (@giraffeseatingcake), because it's on my mind again, the Tina Dollyhair thing to the best of my ability to remember which we all know is not great and of course I didn't keep links to everything. I could probably find them again but you know, I don't want to. Google it yourself.

I don't know why I started looking into it again. Maybe someone mentioned Tina's supposed death somewhere, or maybe someone mentioned Ida taking over and it got me curious. I don't remember.

Anyway, we never found a public death notice or obit for Tina and that makes sense since obits aren't posted unless a family member pays for one to be printed. I didn't know that before.

What I did find was mention of Heidi with a different last name. IIRC it was through public records, I started noticing clusters of names that were showing up together often across different public record aggregation websites. Tina Amuntula/Kristina Amuntulla/Kristina Miller, Heidi Amuntulla/Heidi with a different name, and Steve Amuntula/Amuntullah who also has a different first name but I've forgotten it. He goes by Steve publicly in the US.

There was also some sort of hint that Heidi was in television or the movies in some capacity which made me wonder if there was an IMDB profile for her. There was! Then I looked her up on wiki and found that Heidi OTHERNAME was also named Heidi Amuntullah.

Also checking the ownership history of DollyHair showed that Steve's other name was registered as owner for some time.

Going around and around in circles with public residential and business records put the whole family together.

That was the first time I'd had anything even close to proof that Tina's Sister Heidi actually existed.

How this led to finding out that Tina apparently really did die is that searching about Heidi and Steve Amuntullah brought up a series of documents about a court case brought against the two of them by Melanie Chan.

I did keep a link to one of the documents but not everything else tying this document to Tina Dollyhair because of course.

Anyway, it's here:

In that document it says:

The FAC alleges that Plaintiff’s landlord, Kristina Miller, passed away in August 2020. (FAC ;41.) Defendants being decedent landlord’s father and sister are inferred to be heirs or successors-in-interest to decedent landlord.

Melanie Chan was suing the Amuntullas for wrongful eviction after Tina died, saying they didn't give her enough warning to be able to find another place to live before changing the locks on her. Heidi and Steve took ownership of Tina's house and wanted to sell it. It's recorded either in this document or some of the others that Tina was letting Melanie live in her upstairs for rent without any sort of official lease.

That's basically it.

Tina really died in 2020 (not any of those other times she said she died before), Heidi does exist and both Heidi (Tina's sister) and Steve (their father) took ownership of Tina's house, kicked out her unofficial renter, got sued for it, won the lawsuit, and sold the property.

As for Ida claiming to not know the family or not knowing any of the drama behind the DollyHair shop, she's mentioned in that document, too.

Plaintiff’s reliance upon the allegations regarding “Ida,” an employee of Heidi, is uncertain to allege a trespass in that it is only alleged that Ida entered the “house” and not specifically her “upstairs guest apartment.”

It could be a different Ida.

She could have somehow not known, I guess. It's possible she worked for Heidi without knowing anything about Tina or DollyHair and Heidi was like "Hey, you want this business because I don't...."

So, it's possible.

Either way, I do hope DollyHair as a company can build a new, better reputation with good customer service and not shorting people on their hair orders, now. They do have some hair colors that aren't available elsewhere and DollyHair has the widest selection of fibers as far as I know.

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thessalian · 7 months ago

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Thess vs Cruelty As The Point

So, okay. This is the point at which I really have to stay away from the news for awhile.

Story I caught on the BBC. Woman, 56 years old, gets told by her landlord that she's being evicted. Why? Well, technically there doesn't even have to be a reason. It's called "no fault eviction", and while a Renters' Reform Bill was signed off last week, the abolition of no-fault evictions (which was promised to us by Michael Gove) was sort of postponed indefinitely. Anyway, the reason he gave was "I want to bring this place in line with the fire code", but ... I mean ... shouldn't it have been already? And even if it wasn't, couldn't he have just ... got her to stay in alternate lodgings for a few months while he fixed it? My thinking is that he pulled something that sounded less like greed out of his arse, and his actual plan was to slap on a coat of paint and put it back on the rental market at way more than he was getting from this lady.

Anyway. This lady is obviously distraught. She can't afford a deposit and first month's rent on a new place at this point. So she turns to her local council. See, that's how it's supposed to work. If you are in real need of housing, you are supposed to be able to apply for council housing. Thing is, Margaret Thatcher gave everybody the right to buy their council house / flat from the government ages ago. Which you'd think would be good, because everyone deserves to have a secure permanent home, buuuuuut ... she kind of didn't build any new ones to replace the ones that tenants bought. So there are very, very few council properties available, and so the queue to get one is hugely long. However, if you have sufficient need, you can get nudged to the head of the queue ... if the bean-counters at the council office agree that you have sufficient need. And their criteria is ... well.

This woman who'd turned to the council as her last hope got a letter in return, just before her actual eviction date. And it said, and I am not paraphrasing here (at least not any more than the BBC did), "We have determined that you would tolerate being made homeless or remaining homeless, and are therefore not a priority." And thus they turned her down.

They determined that a 56-year-old woman would be fine literally sleeping on the streets, and turned her down without any kind of listing of where else she might be able to receive help.

The BBC and several others called the council on this absolute horror, and are also checking with others in that council to see what kinds of letters they got. The council's response was effectively, "We could have worded that better, and will take care to do so in the future, but she really wasn't a priority".

This country makes me fucking sick. Like, literally. I had a massive discount on an order from my favourite Indian place that I needed to use, so I had my favourite Indian meal, and now I'm not sure I will be able to keep it down, because the sheer fucking cruelty of so much of the leadership of this country is literally making me want to throw up.

I can't even think what would cheer me up at this point. Suggestions on a postcard, please; I can't take the absolute sickening despair of living in a country that so actively wants people to suffer and die.

Oh, if you also want to be depressed? The article.

#Thess on politics

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ask-me-what-my-sideblog-is · 2 years ago

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PSA: ALWAYS NEGOTIATE YOUR RENT

Real Life Scenario That Just Happened: My lease is about to end, I reached out to find out about renewal options, and my landlord told me he was raising my rent by $400 (~10%).

Now first off, where I live that's an illegally high rent increase (always know your rights!). If he wants to raise it more than 5%, he needs to give me 3 months notice (he did not). But I knew that if I replied with that information, he would probably adjust the rent increase to exactly 5%, which would be over $200 more a month.

So instead, I started even lower. I said look I've been in this apartment for over 3 years, it's not as nice as it was when I moved in, a lot of the appliances don't work as well anymore, etc and comparable apartments in the area are going for less. So I don't think my rent should increase AT ALL. (Quite honestly none of the "comparable" apartments were quite as nice as mine, but that didn't stop me).

Now I admit, I didn't actually think that would work. My plan was to start low, figuring we would compromise somewhere in the middle, but hopefully less than the full 5%. And worst case, if he wouldn't budge from $400, then I would start quoting legal code at him and force him down to 5%.

But you know what happened??? He just said "fine" and now my rent is staying the same for another year! That's $4800 saved because I gave him (what I thought was) a lowball offer to start and he caved.

Now some important context: I knew I had some power in this situation. I live in a 3-apartment building and the other two apartments are both currently empty, so I knew the landlord would be scared to lose more rent. I'm a good tenant who always pays rent on time, so I knew the landlord would have to weigh losing me (and all the costs associated with flipping the apartment, hiring a realtor to show it, etc) vs. the extra bucks he might be able to make on the free market. And as I predicted, keeping me around was more important than the $400/month!

BUT here's the kicker, if you try to negotiate and it doesn't work?? It is highly unlikely that the landlord won't accept the original offer. If he says $400 and you say $0 and he says "no way", in 99.9% of cases, he'll still accept $400! So there is literally zero harm in trying.

Quick Lease Renewal Negotiation Guide, for Recap:

Before you enter the conversation

Know your rights as a renter

Look up what similar apartments are going for in the area

Decide what your final # is (that you won't go above)

Consider if there are other things you'd be willing to offer that would sweeten the deal for the landlord (longer lease term, higher gross rent in exchange for some free months / lower net rent**, etc)

**This will likely screw you over for the following renewal, so only do this if you are planning not to renew again

During the Negotiation

Start Low! Don't start by offering your final number

Don't throw everything out all at once! Have some things in your back pocket

Don't Panic! I know this can be scary, but there's a good chance it will work and a very low chance it will make anything worse (landlords expect this!) so it's worth trying

#rent negotiation #for people with anxiety #life hacks #life tips

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reikiajakoiranruohoja · 2 months ago

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I have ranted about this before, but the landlord post really made me remember why this aspect of Tumblr annoys me so much. WARNING: Extreme Adulting talk.

To put it simply, a lot of people on Tumblr seem to live in this limbo where they focus on survival and short-term goals only. While I understand most of this is due to so many US LTGBAQI people here who are young and reliant only on their own paycheck, this kind of thinking is not good long term. I do not mean that one's social class will change (but it might!), I mean one's social role will. Unless you die young, which is a possibility I admit, you won't be a 20-something poor amateur digital artist forever. Life happens, you might get a lucky or unlucky break, You might inherit property, you might get married, you might find a better job and so on. Even if you try, you will not remain static because the world around you will change. You will have to adapt to a new way of living, whether good or bad. Most importantly; You won't always be the underdog. You won't always be the victim or the weakest. One day you will hold power over someone, whether simply by being older or with actual status over them. And, as the saying goes, power reveals. I say this because there are a lot of abusers, shitty bosses, etc. who still see themselves as the underdog and so what they do to others is justified in their mind. That is how shitty landlords come to be, someone inherits property/land and starts renting it. It is cheaper to not fix anything and instead invest in more poor-quality housing. Then they give these shitholes to their children and their kids continue the monetary abuse. But at any point, the landlord can choose differently. They can focus on upkeep, and they can focus on the livability of the apartments.

The difference between these two is how one treats and wields power. Shitty landlords focus on their own profit and security. Those who aren't shitty don't rely on their renters to finance them and focus the rent money on upkeep. Making broad assumptions about a person if they have been a landlord without doing any research is not helping anyone. In fact, I'd say it is doing the opposite. While I focused on landlords in this essay, this sort of simplified us vs them mentality is common on Tumblr. It is bad, because it paints the 'us' as a static young adult progressive underdog and the 'them' as the older people with more power and more conservative views.

This means that the 'us' never really give thought to any long term goals or have personal plans for the future. Instead, most plans are vague and global. As clichè as the question is, sometimes you have to ask where DO you see yourself in five years? And you should have an answer other than 'dead.' Dead is the worst case scenario, not something to count on. Because if you live your teens and young adult years thinking you will die soon anyway so the future doesn't matter, you may wake up one day and realise you -didn't- die and now you have no idea how to spend the rest of your life. Be prepared to have power, have goals, have dreams and please have intentions of living past 25.

#politics //#important #rant

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hasdrubal-gisco · 9 months ago

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to those of you not following czech talkshows/twitter, a few days ago máte slovo had a landlords vs renters debate on how to legislatively solve housing issues (three panelists for each side plus an amalgam of like fifteen extras for each side to chime in) and the renters were represented by known twitter user zlatá rybka and minister of something, ivan bartoš (whom i have played mtg with and he's very unpleasant, on top of the unpleasantness implied by his appearance and politics) and it's permeated the zeitgeist so thoroughly that analysts in the national bank with 17 twitter followers are chiming in to provide data for people's unending slap fights

#to those who did watch.. would ?

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newtafterdark · 1 year ago

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Hey! I'm not sure how different the laws are in Germany vs the US, but you really, REALLY should look into your rights as a renter. Typically in the US, a repair so severe that it essentially renders you homeless is something that legally MUST be fixed by the landlord, or in the case where the landlord is refusing, you would hire the repairman yourself and (if it comes down to it) take your landlord to court over the bill, since it IS their responsibility to maintain the property. Like I said, I'm not sure if it's different in Germany.... but that feels like something that should be a thing, to some degree. I'm glad you're safe for the time being, at least.

It's pretty much similar over here - I looked into it a couple of times for various things my landlord has failed to do throughout the years.

He walks in a grey zone with how much time he can take with approaching repairs. As far as I can tell, there isn't a legally binding time frame for certain things, but especially with what I had to deal with he should've fixed that within 4 days. And not stay on holiday for a whole damn week.

I could've called a repairman myself, yes, but I was genuinely too shocked for a bit that my landlord really just left me to deal with it all on my own. I think I would've considered calling a guy tomorrow though, if I hadn't managed to fix it tonight. ("Fun" fact, I did the repairs past-midnight my time. I am tired.)

I think that man genuinely thinks he's above the law on so many levels because his main job is also being a cop. No, I am not joking. I somehow got myself the worst dual-type guy to pay rent to.

I might consider paying a bit less rent this month, because I am legally allowed to do so. Though I will double-check that before I do, just to be safe.

#newt's ramblings #answered asks #anonymous

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g4rchomp · 2 years ago

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Canada and the US have similar ratios (with the US having slightly more renters) that's why I'm putting them together here. reply is under the cut

it's actually 35% rent and 65% own!! I was really surprised because I definitely expected it to be much, much closer lol I thought everyone was renting 😭

A few articles for Canada: [x] [x] [x]

And for the US: [x] [x] [x]

#this is a little fun fact of the day don't take this too seriously + don't read too much on it bc it gets depressing

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 2 years ago

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"HUBBY SHOWED TEETH OF WIFE INTO THROAT,” Toronto Star. February 24, 1933. Page 2. ---- Abraham Bornstein Warned to Keep Away From Spouse - Girl Stole Dress --- "She accused me of keeping company with a Chinaman," complained Mrs. Hazel Gauditt. testifying against Albertine Morris, charged with assault in women's court to-day.

Both parties were placed under $50 to keep the peace.

Abraham Bornstein shoved his wife's false teeth down her throat, so Magistrate Patterson placed him under $200 bond to keep the peace and warned Abraham to keep away from his wife. He was given the alternative of six months in jail.

Charged with theft of a dress, Sadie Zulyn, 150 Franklin, pleaded not guilty, claiming that she had never been in the store in question.

But Sadie was remanded for sentence by a skeptical court and put on probation for year. Restitution of the dress was ordered.

"Investigations show that you're a fine fellow until you get to drinking," Magistrate Margaret Patterson told Louis Neil, convicted of assault. Court placed him under $200 bond to keep the peace. He was further put on probation for one year and ordered to abstain from alcoholic liquor.

Mrs. Elizabeth Hunt told the court that Joseph Hutchinson and his wife Nellie had given her a black eye, but she refused to testify further because Joe was her brother. The charge was withdrawn.

"He broke the drain, he broke the sink, he pulled the paper off the walls," complained Mrs. D. Ginsler, testifying against John McMaster, whom she accused of damaging the house which she had rented to him. The place was so filthy I thought I would be suffocated. I swam in the cellar."

"Did the medical health department tel! you the place was not habitable before you went into this man house?" "No."

McMaster, married, with 10 children, denied that the house was in good condition when he took it over. He was ordered to repair the drain. "For the other damage the complainant will have to sue in division court," ruled Magistrate Patterson,

#toronto #women's police court #assault #insulting words #racism in canada #peace bond #domestic violence #intimate partner violence #stolen dress #theft #restitution #fines or jail #renters vs landlords #rental property #rental agreement #great depression in canada #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

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traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 2 years ago

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tw landlords lol, mention of alcohol, smoking and porn (all very brief). Also really long and I use some swear words and am very angry in word choices so that might be a tw too

This is mostly a vent but if you have any advice please share :) <- after this the rest of the stuff is just anger and venting, sorry for the negativity

I am SO frustrated with my landlord, his existence just pisses me off so goddamn much. I was lowkey forced to move here (vs being homeless) and the landlord VERY MuCH pretended the place was better than it actually is.

First off he said that "everyone helps out" and "all spaces is for everyone" while also saying "he rents out to young college students because he knows they need a place to stay". We're all renting individual rooms here BUT. What he MADE SURE NOT TO SAY (and AVOIDED answering) was that he lived there too!

Which like sure okay I get it but also aelrgmkaelrkgm it pisses me off so much. All he does is drink and smoke and DRINK all day long. If I use the kitchen (which is so absolutely disgusting I actually refuse to use it. I have a minifridge and a small hot plate and that works for me.) or chill in the general area he stares at me. He's bigger than me and will make comments about not seeing me enough and paired with him straight up telling my aunt that he "reallly wanted me to live there" it makes me feel super super uncomfortable.

He used to text me demanding where I was and if I was home which like SURE maybe he's trying to be kind but FUCKING EW. He used to come to my room and knock and knock if I didn't answer his texts soon enough, and that SCREAMED red flags because why the fuck does it matter to him?? I pay my rent and clean the spaces I use (I share a bathroom with a guy that refuses to clean and it's so gross. I hate it.).

He's aLWAYS on the phone yelling and sometimes screaming and I can hear him listen to porn too. I work from home and all day I can hear him snoring (he has a WEIRD sleep schedule), drinking, yelling on the phone, farting, etc. He has no job and jacked up the prices here so that we all cover his ""lifestyle"". Everyone renting here either hides in their rooms or are gone because no one likes it here.

With the girl who may or may not be moving out he doesn't give her keys to the place and makes weird comments about her and is generally pretty creepy towards her and it's such a bizarre power dynamic that I don't blame her for being gone 5+ days a week. The other guy speaks basically no english, also yells on the phone alot, is a fucking pig (THEY LEAVE MOLDLY FOOD ALL OVER THE KITCHEN. I CLEANED THE COUNTERS AND THE LANDLORD MADE A JOKE ABOUT ""PICKING YOU WILL MAKE OUR LIVES BETTER"".)

AND NOW the landlord has started inviting groups of men over and drinking with them in the common area RIGHT outside my door. He's been inviting new people over to ""tour the place" and KEEPS standing right outside my door and talking about how "someone else lives here right now" and it makes me SO uncomfortable. All these people he's "touring" for HAPPEN to be fully grown adult men, like adult adult not college age which means he quite possibly LIED so i'd move in (not that I had much of a choice, my aunt forced me).

He doesn't speak much english which means "convineitly" whenever I try speaking to him he doesn't know what I'm talking about, but I try to just avoid him (pretty successfully) because he makes me so fucking mad. Each morning I am forced to listen to him wretching (not quite throwing up but some horrible terrible throat sounds) for 5 minutes straight and he keeps waking me up doing that. It's so stupidly loud and disgusting.

I'm not allowed any people over because of the contract and if I have someone over for the night he'll kick me out. Because we ""technically share a kitchen"" I'm not protected by certain renter's rights.

I'm polite to him when I see him because he has more power in this situation (has the key to my rooma nd could barge in if he wanted like the first few weeks) but HOLY FUCK his existence makes me want to strangle him (I would never do such a thing btw. I don't take my frustration out on people). I just want him to SHUT UP for a few days or even leave the fucking house so hey! it doesn't feel like he's constantly waiting for a moment to stare at people!

He doesn't even mow the fucking lawn or clean the house or do his own goddamn dishes. He makes the renters snow shovel the drive way (which he has, FOR SOME REASON, a car with 0 license plates on them parked there) and do everything else and because no one is home most of the time or people are hiding in their rooms NO ONE CLEANS UP. I keep my room and the common area outside it clean (and the bathroom but sometimes I don't clean it that week because the other guy is SUPPOSED to clean it but doesn't.).

I am so fucking sick and tired and disgusted by these people and I want to scream and tell the landlord to stop being such a stupid piece of shit and stop drinking and yelling and being so creepy all the fucking time. Like I get that there's cultural differences in what is polite but FUCK this guy is just so bad. I hate him so much. If I have to hear him gag which chugging more beer one more time I will scream.

When I moved here too there were NEW (NEW! THEY WEREN't THERE BEFORE I MOVED IN) HOLES IN THE WALLS. He sprayed the place down for UNKNOWN REASONS and kicked everyone out for an entire day. He put in in the contract that I'd have to pay 3 months rent if I broke the contract and I couldn't change it because my aunt forced me to sign. He acted all "nice and sweet" around her but it was all a fucking act. She thinks he's great and living with other people will be good for me, but I never wanted to live with some unknown, creepy, alcoholic guy who sometimes listens to the same 1 minute long clip of a child speaking for a solid hour straight <- I AM NOT MAKING IT UP. IT DROVE ME INSANE. I WAS OUTSIDE AT NIGhT IN -20C WEATHER JUST TO GET AWAY

She also thinks that I'm some sort of devil child (because I'm adopted) and doesn't really like me so even if I say something it's me "not acting human enough" <- she's lectured me on that multiple times.

The rent in the city is absurdly high and idk where I'd be able to move but I'd be willing to lose a few more hundreds a month if I can get away from this shitty landlord. I'm already paying 850 just to rent a stupid room that I have to sleep in AND WORK in with this drunk, smoking, disgusting old guy stomping around, slaming things, and throwing up upstiars. He'll yell on the phone until 3AM and I've lost SO much sleep because he can't shut up for ONE hour of his stupid miserable life. He never leaves the house and if you leave food in the kitchen he'll take it.

He's also really traditional, mysogynistic, and yuck and I'm nonbinary AFAB stealthing as a cis guy because I don't want to get kicked out or whatever the hell sort of relationship the landlord has with the girl who technically rents here. I've also had nightmares about him (the worst was during the first few weeks I'd have repeating nightmares of moving in, him slowly taking over the house and revealing he had multiple hidden cameras in my room that he's watching me with, showing off his collection of nude photos he's got of me and then showing a hiddden part of the contract showing that I "agreed to it all".)

I want him to just STOP. I can't wait until I can move out but I have to wait 8 more months until then. I'll be having surgery and staying with my parents for at least a month around april and even though I originally moved out to get away from my parents I'm honestly considering staying there for like 2 months because they're more than willing to let me stay there for as long as they can (kinda tooo willling if you catch my drift. They've made too many kidnapping/stalking/etc jokes to be comfy but whatever). I am so happy that the days will be longer soon because then at least there will be light out when work ends and I can go for long walks outside without possibly making other people uncomfortable (I have baggy clothes so I look like some guy which I know can be uncomfortable for some people and I don't wanna do that.)

AND TODAY HE'S HAD MULTIPLE PEOPLE OVER TO SHOW OFF THE HOUSE AND HE KEEPS TALKING TO THEM OUTSIDE MY DOOR BECAUSE IT'S THE CLEANEST AREA IN THE HOUSE SO HE WANTS TO MAKE IT SEEM LIKE A BETTER PLACE TO STAY THAN IT REALLY IS. And they'll probably like it here because they're all older cis men who share that same disgusting vibes as he does. And the idea of more men living here makes me so much more uncomfortable because at least the other two renters are close (unconfirmed since LITERALLY everyone avoids being in the house so I've only seen them twice after living here for several months) to my age.

I want to SCREAM. This is such a terrible christmas. I have no where to go and everything is closed and we had a huge storm and it's still -30C out so it's too cold to just wander outside. I can't hang out with friends because I don't really have any that'd just lemme go overand aELRKGMAELKRGM I've punched my pillow a few times to get the anger out but every noise he makes makes me more frustrated. Months living here with him makes his existence grate on my nerves more and more and more and I'm so sick and tired and mad because of it. can he just STOP.

If I didn't have a stay-at-home-job that required high speed internet I'd straight up just sleep on the fucking streets to get away but I have valuables here and I don't wanna risk anything happening to them. I also fixed the screen of my singular window and fixed the lock but he didn't tell me that it's fucking DRAFTY here so guess who has been bunking down under all my blankets and wearing multiple layers so I don't freeze with the increadibly cold weather out that literally freezes your eyelashes within just a few minutes being outside!

If I could punch him I could, he has such a hateable demeanour. He's so fucking easy to hate and I'm nto someone that believes that you can categorize people as "burdens on society" because that statement is SUPER ableist and capitalist driven. But this guy? this guy is a fucking PARASYTE. He's a wast of existence, he adds nothing to the world and only takes and takes and makes everyone elses lives worse. I don't think he should die of course but holy fuck I would love it for him to stop existing in my life, ya know? I want to punch him so badly just to get that horrible creepy smirk off his face when he leers at me. And I'm someone who hates confrontation so much I've slept in trees I've climbed just to stay away from my drunk and high other aunt who hates my guts!

TLDR: I hate his guts so much he makes me so mad I want him to shut up so so much. He's creepy and gross and loves to stare and make inappropriate comments and I just want to get OUT.

Hi anon,

I'm sorry about what you've been going through. You don't deserve to live that way.

This ask reminds me a lot of this ask where anon was essentially forced by their aunt to live with a creepy landlord. Like I said in that ask, you could consider gathering evidence of your landlord stalking you and potentially report him if you wanted to, because this definitely sounds illegal to me and nobody deserves to live like that. If anyone has any additional comments or suggestions you are welcome to do so.

I also hope that you are able to find a place to live on your own terms and without any weird landlords. Please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #abuse #trauma details #emotional abuse

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corundumb · 7 months ago

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Professional cleaner and cooking lover here!

Use dish soap and a sponge for cleaning your bath tub/bathroom tile walls. It's cheaper and SAFER than using chemicals.

Go to Goodwill often for pans, plates, glass cups, etc. Just clean them well and you'll have enough for what you need, however INSPECT them thoroughly. If it's ceramic, even a little cracking in the finish is enough to reject the item.

Barkeepers Friend is the BEST cleaner for very dirty items, ranging from stainless steel to glass. Beware, it's abrasive.

Have two sets of rubber gloves- one for cleaning, one for dishes. Make sure they're different colors!!!

I cut a corner off of sponges for when they're not for dishes. Makes things easier to identify.

CONSUME DENTED CANNED GOODS FIRST. ANYTHING DENTED CAN CAUSE BACTERIA TO GROW INSIDE OF THE CAN OVER TIME. If you're really unsure, just don't eat it.

When looking at new recipes, compare the number of stars vs number of reviews. Why trust fifty people over a few thousand?

Pick a veggie you've never cooked with before, start looking at what specifically uses that veggie. Experiment for like a week.

Have a notebook in the kitchen, copy recipes you like. Bonus points for adding the average cost.

Vinegar + baking soda in a bag, use a rubber band to secure, your faucets should run better. Including shower head. Unscrew your faucets once a year to clean, sediments gets caught in it.

Clogged sink? Sometimes just pouring boiling water is enough. Sometimes not, you'll have to purchase a drain snake. Avoid washing products like sugar scrubs down your drain, and flushable wipes don't disintegrate they're bad for your pipes they'll clog.

Have different colored rags for different cleaning chemicals/surfaces. Do not wash these rags with anything else, they need their own cycles. Have specific rags for in the kitchen to dry your hands while you're cooking. It's extremely important to wash your hands during the process several times.

HAVE ONE CUTTING BOARD SPECIFICALLY FOR MEAT, EVEN BETTER ONE FOR EACH TYPE OF MEAT TO PREVENT CROSS CONTAMINATION. HAVE ANOTHER CUTTING BOARD FOR FRUITS/VEGGIES ONLY. I cannot stress this enough.

Powdered laundry detergent is cheaper, to prevent bleached spots on clothing premix the powder in some water then add into the laundry machine. DO NOT LEAVE WASHER WITH LID CLOSED UNLESS YOU LIKE MOLD/MILDEW. Most manuals will tell you to leave the lid open so it can dry from the inside properly.

Do laundry on a specific day every week. It helps to have a specific podcast or show you like to watch, only listen/watch it when doing laundry as a motivator/reward.

Once a year, have your landlord check the lint exhaust pipe from your dryer. If your dryer isn't drying very well this may be the reason. IT'S A FIRE HAZARD IF IT'S NOT CLEANED OUT.

**IMPORTANT** ALWAYS take pictures pictures of literally everything at any angle when you first move in/out. Shelves, tops of the shelves, inside of the dryer/washer, anything you can see inside and out. Scummy landlords have many tricks to claim you did damage they did after you moved out. ALWAYS protect yourself. Nobody is your friend in the apartment world. Be wary having room mates, even if they're friends. I've personally been horribly scorned by a friend turned room mate. Also, always look into your RENTERS RIGHTS for your state, and if one party consent regarding recording conversations is in your state.

You can remove and clean the trap for the air vent above the stove, I soak mine in the vinegar+baking soda combo. Check this regularly.

You know those Pumice stones ads will tell you to use on your feet? GOOD NEWS EVERYONE! They're great for Glass, Porcelain, and the inside of your ovens! DO A TINY TEST SPOT FIRST because it can scratch your shit up baaaaad. But if you have hard stains, such as on your glass stove, in your oven, and TOILETTE it's a life saver.... just, please, ffs keep the toilette one separate from everything else!!

It's important to take a bit of time for yourself, don't allow chores to build up to the point where it'll take an entire day to deal with it over five minutes. Start small like with the bathroom mirror, you'll gradually progress.

Vacuum, dust, mop, and sweep more often than you think you need to. Work from top to bottom.

Most stoves have this feature where you can lift the flat part on top to clean underneath from overboiled food stuffs. Do this unless you want cockroaches.

Degreaser helps clean the inside of fridges so well! If you must clean the freezer.... have this be a 'moving out' task, unplug the fridge and let that shit thaw, have towels ready for the melted ice and then use the degreaser.

MAGIC. ERASER. Use this for baseboards (that trim on the bottom of your walls), wall stains from your hands, cabinets and whatnot, just please wear gloves this stuff RUINED my hands when I didn't. It's way more abrasive than you think and I managed to accidentally strip paint off of the walls and stripped the sealing in the bathtub so be careful.

Use your vacuum tube extension where the base of the wall meets the edge of the floor, it does more than you think. You can also use this tool to 'dust' the baseboards.

If you're cooking something, and there's time you're waiting for something to boil or whatever, take that time to prep other veggies and foods to make the next meal that much easier.

Go to Asian Markets, buy rice in their biggest bags. It's cheaper over time, just store the open bag in a big ol tub that doesn't have holes to prevent bugs. Unless you're needing the extra crunchy protein.

Cook large batches of food, not just one meal a day. Make breakfast casseroles, big ol servings of rice, bake veggies, have meat already cooked. People used to eat leftovers for breakfast before sugary cereal, and it's soooo much cheaper/healthier than cereal! All you gotta do is store it and reheat when ready.

HAVE A PHYSICAL, PAPER CALENDAR for when you've made food. Food poisoning is the worst. Don't heat leftovers more than once unless you feel like being a geyser from both ends. Typically food shouldn't be in the fridge for more than a week at most a few days, always smell it/small taste test. If it's even a little off, it's not worth taking the day off of work.

Feel free to send asks to me directly about things I may have missed, I'm always the Mom Friend in the group and if I don't know an answer to something I'll at least help do some research to give you a head start. It does not bother me in fact I'm so happy to help others. Please take care of yourselves young loves💙

Dear people living on your own for the first time:

Here’s some advice I wasn’t told from the myriad of posts before that I wish I’d been given before

Wash the OUTSIDE of your pots and pans as well as the cooking surface. I’ve had a few roommates now who have only cleaned the inside and I’ve had to replace a $150 set of cookware twice.

“its only one time, how bad could using metal on nonstick cookware really be?” very bad. don’t do this.

Buy a rice cooker. Buy the middle tier rice cooker. Cheap ones will burn your rice, high tier ones are too expensive. Rice is good and cheap and, really, you don’t actually have to wash it if you don’t care about making gourmet food.

Buy band-aids. You don’t think you need band-ads until you need a band-aid, and by then it’s too late. (if you don’t follow this advice, a paper towel and some tape is an acceptable solution while you go get real bandages and neosporin)

You are on tumblr, which means you probably spend most of your time in one spot on a computer or phone. if this spot doesn’t have a trash can in arm’s reach, put one there.

I spent 4 years piling trash on my desk in increasingly precarious ways until I had a designated area to put it. Trash cans can and should go anywhere there is a frequent generation of trash, typical locations be damned.

If you live with one or two roommates, discuss placing empty boxes in the back of your fridge and freezer. You probably don’t need all the space that the standard 5-person-family fridge provides, and tupperware will be shoved back there and left to stink up the entire appliance.

Get a wall calendar, put it somewhere communal, and have everyone put their household-relevant schedules on it. Communication is by far the weakest link with roommates (even good ones!) and having something to reference for appointments is always good

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