#tommy's duplex

[louisferrignojr]

actually tommy lives on the top floor of a duplex. he's been renting it for years, and the landlady is a sweet old woman who lives alone on the lower floor and is charging him like, 2005 market rates. he's thought about buying his own place, especially after transferring to harbor, something closer to his new workplace, but he's grown attached to the place itself and his landlady. they've developed a good relationship over the years and she does remind him of his late grandmother.

tommy takes care of odd jobs here and there, both in his own place and hers, saves her the hassle and cost of calling a plumber to fix a minor leak that only needs some pipe thread tape, cleans the gutters, drives her places if his work schedules allows. and she doesn't care if he wants to paint the walls or renovate the bathroom to put in a rain shower.

as she gets older tommy starts telling her to get herself a home health aide, offers to help her with the paperwork, but she refuses, insists she can handle herself just fine, thank you very much. tommy tells her "i'm not gonna live here forever, you know, i won't be around to help you, and then who's gonna look after you?" because he's been saving up to buy his own place and after a decade he's got a decent amount saved for a down payment, and alice tells him, "well, get on with it, boy, what are you waiting for? houses aren't getting any cheaper, you realise that?"

evan is so excited to meet her finally, he has no idea what he's in for because she gives him a stern look and asks him half a dozen questions and tommy has to interject and tell her to stop grilling his boyfriend, and alice raises an eyebrow and says, "i will when he puts a ring on your finger," and evan is stammering, scrambling for something to say, and tommy keeps his cool, says, "who's to say i'm not gonna put a ring on his finger?" and evan turns to look at him with that same awestruck expression like when tommy first kissed him, and then his face splits into a grin and it takes everything in him for tommy not to pull him in for a kiss.

alice rolls her eyes like, "oh, i don't know what the rules are with you boys. but i'll be expecting a hand-delivered invite to the wedding, you hear me?" and she sends them off, out the door, tells them to have a good time on their date and behave.

eventually, tommy goes around to her place one day for tea and lemon cake, and offers to buy the property from her, and alice gives him a look and says, "you know, that would save me a lot of hassle actually," and tells him to hurry up and get married and start adopting because she wants to meet her future grandkids before her time is up and tommy gets to his feet and hugs her so tight and when she pats his back and tells him, "oh honey, it's okay," tommy starts full on weeping.

[wannabanauthor]

So Tommy wants a family-like structure, right?

Based on the number of times he's expressed jealousy of the 118 being a family.

So...what if Tommy, Buck, Eddie, and Christopher got a big house together. Like a duplex.

Buck and Tommy living on one side, and Eddie and Chris on the other.

Maybe there's a big backyard where they can host parties or what not.

What do y'all think? I think it would satisfy his want for a family while also maintaining the privacy of his and Buck's relationship.

[prolix-yuy]

Hi Lj! I just found your account and I'm obsessed!!!!

I spun the wheel for the bangathon (which is amazing btw) and I got snuggled spoon! Can I get some spooning with Joel? 💗

Hello lovely nonnie! Welcome welcome to all the fun! And what a great time to come in with the bangathon in full swing!

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Position: Snuggled Spoon

Word Count: 1154

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, fingering (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), a lot of exposition for something I meant to just be porny.

Notes: I'm still working on Joel's voice, but I'll take any challenge to improve it! Plus this was a fun way to put them in my favorite trope "only one bed" PLUS my favorite pun! Enjoy!

It’s just for warmth, even though it’s hitting seventy tonight.

It’s just for comfort, to have a solid body nearby to protect against intruders, even though you’re in a locked house in the middle of nowhere.

It’s just a force of habit, after traveling with Joel to Jackson. All those long nights with Ellie tucked between you, the shuffling around to protect, to warm, to ignore the growing feeling of something’s here in your chest. 

You hadn’t shared a night in months, Joel and Ellie set up near Tommy’s place, you in a duplex close to the town center. When you pass each other the greetings are kind, Joel’s tight smile welcome. It’s nothing like the adrenaline and intimacy of survival, and when he doesn’t come calling you give up on whatever feeling you harbored for Joel Miller. You’re safe, you’re fed, you’re able to move on from the frantic pace of living moment to moment. You’ll count your blessings for that.

Until the river flooded, making return from your patrol impossible. 

There was a cabin close to your location, a safehouse for long-haul missions that required nights in the field. You stumbled in, wet and frustrated, to find that you weren’t the only one stranded. Joel was building a fire with the few dry logs in the house, hair wet and slicked back. A denim shirt laid over a chair, his gray undershirt sticking to his skin. He looks up with the hunter’s sense of his past, hand on his rifle, before recognizing you.

“Shit, you got caught up in this too?” he sighs, watching the piddly fire try to catch. The flickering dances across his deep features, reminding you of nights spent wheezing over stupid puns from an ages-old book that Joel pretended to hate. 

“Yeah, here’s hoping it’s down by morning,” you say, dumping your pack by the entrance and toeing off your soggy boots. ‘It’s not that cold,” you comment as the fire struggles to life.

“More hopin’ it’ll dry out the clothes, don’t know ‘bout you but I’m soaked through.” You sit on the half-sunken couch and peel off your socks, then your flannel. You consider stripping your denim pants but the effort it would take feels insurmountable. 

“I’ve got food,” you say, Joel nodding a silent thanks. Things fall into the familiar rhythm of your time together. You make a meal as Joel scouts the location, checking locks and pulling curtains. Joel eats as you stand watch, secretly hoping no one else finds you. Then you eat as Joel tends the fire and sets up the sleeping arrangements. 

He drags a mattress into the living room, scooting it between the fireplace and the couch. Digging through the closets you find a sheet that looks big enough to cover you both, and a guest blanket that’s scratchy enough to guarantee a sleepless night.

It feels like old times, and it terrifies you how quickly old feelings start to bloom again.

There are no discussions or agreements. You strip out of your denim, leaving it to dry, and lay down in your tank top and underwear. The sheet drapes along your body, and for a moment you wonder if you look alluring like this. Joel disrobes quickly, the wet thump of his pants joining yours before he lays down beside you. You stare at the fire, body thrumming with anticipation you hate. He’s had months to come to you, endless invitations both verbal and silent, but he’s never found himself at your door. There’s nothing here.

Silence reigns for long minutes as you both shuffle on the lumpy mattress. You miss your bed, you miss Ellie, you miss the easy comfort you used to give each other, and against all odds you miss…

“Hey Joel?” you say, throat croaking. He hums in response. “Why did the melons have to get married in a church?”

A deep sigh, then, “Why?”

“Because they cantaloupe.”

For a second you’re afraid he’ll sigh, or grumble, but then a strangled giggle comes from over your shoulder. Relief, and joy, spreads over your body.

“Goddammit, I thought I only had to deal with this with Ellie,” he groans, and your laughs become wracking snorts and wheezes. He’s laughing too, the most beautiful sound in this hideaway. Finally you both get control of your diaphragms and relax, and Joel is suddenly fitted against your back. Melting back into him, you let his arms circle you, forehead pressed against the back of your head.

“I missed this. I missed you,” he says, and so many words claw up your throat.

“I’ve been here,” you manage.

“I’ve been stupid,” he counters, another wave of giggles escaping. Then a warm mouth presses against your neck. “Forgive me?”

Emotion wells in your throat, eyes squeezing tight. “Wish I was mad enough to refuse, but yeah, Joel, I forgive you.” 

Then he’s turning your face, and you’re kissing him.

He tastes like salt and woodsmoke, holding your jaw open to drown in your mouth. He slides your tongues together in long dancing strokes, much more artful than you imagined. When your lips part he nips at your chin, or slips his lower lip between yours. You suck it greedily, working him up until he’s frantically devouring you, panting and groaning.

The pithy layers between you don’t stand a chance. Joel dives a hand into your underwear and finds you soaked, slipping over your clit in quick strokes before plunging two fingers in. His cock is heavy against your ass, the dampness of precum kissing your overheating skin. Shaky hands strip you both bare before Joel fits back behind you, lifting your leg over his to tease his cock at your entrance.

“Do you want this?” he asks, and it’s loaded with more than you can fathom at the moment. “Yes,” is the best you can do. 

Joel rubs your clit steadily as he pushes in, cursing into your ear as he stretches your tight cunt on his cock. You writhe against him, his arm banding around your hips to pull you flush when he’s buried inside. Hand in his hair, you tug him down to your neck as you ask him to please, move. He complies, drawing out to the tip before rolling his hips back in with an intensity that won’t let you stay quiet. Your high-pitched moans spur him on, his thrusts getting quicker and harder into your g-spot. All the while he drags slick up to your clit to drive you higher and higher, teeth scraping your neck and his tongue lapping trails in their wake.

“Joel, oh fuck, please don’t stop,” you beg, and you’re not even sure what you’re asking. Don’t stop fucking you? Don’t stop looking at you like you’re his? Don’t stop whatever this blossoming thing between you may be?

“Never,” he grits out, and you take it as an answer for all of it.

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖

51 for ❄️:

---

I found your email on the Zoom invite. You can tell me to mind my own business and I won’t be offended. 

Session got heavy today and I just wanted to check on you. You remind me a lot of myself. And if that’s a hunch I’m correct about, my guess is that you’re stewing right now. Second guessing everything you said, maybe?

If that’s the case, I want to say, don’t. I resonated with most everything you said. For whatever that’s worth. 

Hope all is okay,

Charlie 

Eddie rereads the email three times. It’s strange. Whatever similarities Eddie was picking up on, Charlie found them too. He wonders what it is exactly. And then, there’s something else. Something that tightens Eddie’s throat just to think of it. A kindness. One Eddie’s not sure he’s earned, but appreciates nonetheless. 

So he emails Charlie back. 

Date: July 5th, 2024

To: charles.timothy@yahoo.com

From:  eddiaz92@gmail.com

Subject: Re:Checking In

Hey Charlie,

Thank you for reaching out. Not overstepping at all. I appreciate it, actually. 

This is all so new and I don’t really know how to talk about any of it. It’s good to know someone understands in some way, at least. So thanks. 

Thanks for being brave enough to share first, too. I wouldn’t have followed, otherwise. 

Eddie

That’s how it all starts. 

v.

By the time Eddie hangs out with Buck, two days later, he and Charlie have emailed back and forth over a dozen times. In those emails, Eddie has learned a lot about Charlie. He lives in Milwaukee. He has two dogs, Irish Setters. He has two daughters, Iris and Emily. Iris is more open to talking to him, Emily is pretty much no-contact. That’s his biggest regret in life, more than anything. 

Eddie has shared all about Chris with him, too. It flows sort of naturally. More easily than these issues ever have with anyone. It’s not that Eddie can’t talk about it with Frank or Buck or even Bobby. He always can. And they’re sympathetic and non-judgmental and great. It’s just that, Charlie knows exactly what this is like. Has made the same mistakes.

---

54 for 🪞:

---

Without them, what would he be? 

Dove needs that. Maybe Buck isn’t the perfect person for the job. He knows it’s not going to be easy. But he doesn’t give up on people. He knows that about himself beyond a shadow of a doubt. 

Buck starts a group chat with Maddie, Chim, Hen, and Karen and asks them for help connecting him to the right resources. He gets the process started. 

He’s all in. 

v.

Two things happen on the same day.

Buck gives his notice to his landlord and, sort of, to Tommy. 

It becomes apparent right away that he can’t stay in the loft. Maybe that would work with an actual baby, but not a child who is old enough to require privacy. He needs a two bedroom. Luckily, Eddie sends him a listing around the corner from him for a duplex to lease at not much more than he’s already paying for this fancy-ass loft. Buck jumps on it. 

And the day he signs the lease, and gives his notice, he meets Tommy for dinner. He obviously needs to explain this. It’s becoming real. The process is amping up with social services. Angie is thrilled that someone is interested in Dove. Deirdre, the social worker who has worked with Hen and Karen for years, has personally committed to overseeing the process and expediting it where possible. Hen says that’s likely out of guilt with the situation with Mara. Buck feels bad that that is in any way benefitting him. He wishes there was more that he could do for Hen and Karen, other than being the model character witness when the time comes. 

He hasn’t said anything to Tommy yet and he feels badly about that. He knows it’s not exactly lying. It’s not like Tommy has brought up the very specific question of whether Buck is moving and planning a foster-to-adopt situation for a child he has rescued twice now. But he’s still omitting something significant and that feels shitty. It’s just that, he suspects Tommy won’t be happy about it. He meant what he said to Eddie. It doesn’t matter whether or not Tommy is supportive. He isn’t going to make this decision based on what a short term partner has to say about it. That’s ill advised. But still, it sort of sucks, doesn’t it?

He doesn’t know for sure. He just gets the feeling Tommy isn’t a kid guy. And maybe Buck didn’t pay too much attention to that at first. He didn’ want to look too closely at it and find a reason to not pursue someone he really liked. Someone who opened him up to this new, important side of himself. Someone who he could build something with, as long as he doesn’t approach that pesky but crucial little question and get an answer he doesn’t like. One that is inherently incompatible with what he wants. Do you want kids? 

It’s not that Tommy is bad with kids. He isn’t. Chris obviously really liked him when he was here. He’s never unkind to children or annoyed by the ones they encounter in public. It’s just… A sense Buck gets. There was a night Buck had to babysit Jee and Mara last minute for Maddie when he’d had a date night planned with Tommy. Tommy had canceled instead of joining him. 

---

And then the library one has been posted :)

[atomicladytimetravel]

How I Met Your (Step) Mother

This series is set in the HBO universe and is a no outbreak AU. Joel is 23 when Sarah is a year old; Tommy and Peach are 21. This is a slow burn romance between two long time friends.

Chapter One: Peach

Summary: When Sarah’s mom leaves them unexpectedly, Joel turns to his best friend Peach for help.

Word count: 1,534

Monday November 12th, 1990

When Peach’s eyes snapped open, she wasn’t quite sure why at first. She had heard banging, she’d thought, but now the room was silent except for the whirring of the fan. She looked at the clock on her nightstand; it read 5:03 AM. She had only been asleep for a couple of hours. Her shift at the bar hadn’t ended until two and she didn’t actually fall into bed until around three. She rolled over and prepared to go back to sleep when a loud succession of bangs on her front door made her jump.

“Peach!”

She was surprised and a little concerned to hear the muffled sound of Joel’s voice. He never stopped by without calling first, especially so early in the morning. His visits had become less frequent in the year since his daughter Sarah was born.

“C’mon Peach! I need you!” he shouted, followed by more banging.

She groaned and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Why the hell was he banging on her door at five in the morning? She grabbed her robe, tying it around herself as she rushed to answer the door.

“I’m coming!” she called as he started banging again. She lived in a duplex and if he didn’t keep it down, she was sure her neighbors would have something to say about it. She opened the door to see Joel standing there with a sleeping Sarah in a baby carrier and a diaper bag slung over his shoulder. He looked exhausted and his eyes were slightly swollen as if he’d been crying.

“Thank god,” he sighed, relieved.

“Joel? What’s wrong?” she asked through a yawn.

“I’m sorry to wake you up, I know you probably haven’t been asleep long. I’m just desperate. Stephanie left us last night and I don’t have anyone to watch Sarah while I go to work.”

“She left? I knew I didn’t like her. I tried to tell you,” she chided. Stephanie was Sarah’s mom and Peach knew from day one she was trouble.

“Now’s not the time, Peach. Can you watch Sarah or not?” he huffed. He remembered that he was asking a big favor and softened his expression. “You’re the only person I trust.”

Joel and Peach had known each other since high school. He was a couple of years ahead of her, but she had dated his younger brother Tommy off and on and that’s how they met. The three of them became inseparable. One Halloween, they dressed up as Mario, Luigi and Princess Peach; they called her Peach from then on.

Joel was right to bring Sarah to her. As much as they both loved Tommy, he was barely responsible enough to take care of himself, let alone a baby. Peach, however, had some experience with babies. She made most of her money in high school babysitting.

“Yeah, I can watch her. You’re lucky my shift doesn’t start until seven.”

“Thank you so much. You’re saving my life right now, I owe you,” he said, his face relieved. “I fed and changed her before I left the house so she should sleep for a few hours.” He handed the baby carrier over to Peach.

“Ugh, I can’t get over how cute she is,” Peach gushed, looking down at the sleeping child. Joel smiled. He knew he was leaving his baby girl in the best hands.

“Everything she needs is in here.” He handed Peach the diaper bag. “I’ll be back around five and we can catch up then. I’m so late.”

“Okay, sounds good. Be careful going to work.”

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Sarah’s forehead before straightening up and kissing Peach on the cheek.

“You are the best and I owe you big time. I’ll see you later,” he said as he rushed to his truck.

“Joel!” Peach called before he got in. He looked back at her. “I’m sorry about Stephanie. Really, I am.”

He gave her a sad smile before climbing into the cab of his truck. She took Sarah inside and placed the carrier on the floor next to her bed, deciding not to risk waking her. She crawled back underneath the covers and was able to fall right back to sleep.

It was a little bit after eight when Sarah started to get fussy. Peach woke up when she heard Sarah’s grunts and babbles of frustration at still being confined to the carrier.

“Good morning sweet girl,” Peach cooed, lifting her from the carrier. Sarah was all smiles when she saw Peach. “You’re gonna be hanging out with me today, sound cool?”

Peach changed Sarah’s diaper and fed her a jar of blueberry baby food while they watched Eureeka’s Castle on Nick Jr. She was glad she waited until after she fed Sarah to put her in her day clothes - she was covered in mashed blueberries by the time she was finished.

“Your daddy actually picked out a decent outfit,” Peach told Sarah as she dressed her in the cute denim overall dress with a plain pink t-shirt underneath. “He never could dress himself but at least he can dress you.”

Joel showed back up as promised at a quarter after five. Sarah’s face lit up and she stretched her little arms out towards him when he walked through the door.

“There’s my girl,” he beamed as he picked her up. “Were you a good girl for Peach?”

“She was an angel,” Peach replied. “She cried a little around nap time but we didn’t have any problems other than that.”

“You always have had a way with babies,” he commented. He sat down across from Peach at the table. “She cried constantly with Steph.”

“Let’s talk about Stephanie,” Peach sighed. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. Personally, I don’t think Stephanie ever wanted to have Sarah. Obviously, abortion wasn’t an option so really, she had no choice. I don’t think abandoning her daughter was the right answer, but she probably did her a favor in the long run. Probably saved her a lot of therapy.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Joel said sadly. “It never seemed like they formed a bond.”

Peach looked at him sympathetically and put her hand over his.

“I’m sorry she took off. I know you love her and I know it hurts. You and Sarah both deserve better.”

Peach hadn’t liked Stephanie from the moment Joel introduced them. He’d met her at the restaurant where she was a waitress. Peach was a senior in high school and still dating Tommy at the time and the four of them went on a double date.

“I didn’t realize we would be babysitting,” Stephanie uttered, annoyed when she learned the younger couple was still in high school. Peach didn’t like that very much. She didn’t like the way Stephanie’s nose scrunched up in distaste at sitting across from a couple of high schoolers.

“We’re eighteen fucking years old,” Peach hissed. “You’re not our god damn babysitters.”

“Peach,” Joel warned with pleading glance. She glared at Joel, pissed that he would let this woman he just met talk down to her like she was some little kid. She opened her mouth to speak her mind, as she tended to do often, but Tommy squeezed her knee under the table and shook his head. She closed her mouth and took a calming breath.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. But she wasn’t, not even a little.

“I know you weren’t her biggest fan,” Joel acknowledged. “I should’ve listened, because you were right not to be. I do love her, but we were fighting a lot - every time we talked to each other almost. Other than the fact that I’m a single father now, it’s kind of a relief that she’s gone.”

“Wow, I didn’t know it had gotten that bad.”

“Yeah, well…I didn’t want to hear you say ‘I told you so’, he grinned. “I knew it would be the first thing out of your mouth when I told you she left.”

“I’m sorry,” she chuckled. “That wasn’t very sensitive of me.” He dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand.

“It’s fine. I deserved it. Shoulda ended it a long time ago. Sarah is the only good thing to come from that relationship.”

“Speaking of Sarah,” Peach started, “I know you’re going to need someone to keep her while you’re at work. I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure? That’s a lot to ask.” He sounded unsure, not wanting to take advantage of Peach.

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. If I keep her, you know who you’re leaving her with. You know she’s safe. Besides, I loved having her today.”

“You really are a life saver,” he said with a sigh of relief. “I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather leave her with but I didn’t want to put you out. I can pay you.”

“No need. I’m doing pretty good at the bar and I’m doing this as a favor so don’t even think about it,” she insisted.

“Peach, what would I do without you?” he asked, shaking his head. She gave him a big smile.

“Lucky for you, you’ll never know.”

[heavencasteel420]

Speaking of an OC who's Nancy's lousy husband, I do have an AU idea (fairly low down the list of things I will actually write, although I have a paragraph or two written somewhere) where it's set during S1, but all the older teen characters are in their mid-to-late-twenties instead. This was inspired by a joke post pointing out how all the older teens look/act like they're well into their twenties by the time you get to S4, but I decided to make it drama:

Nancy is a recently divorced single mother; her ex-husband Bradley (whom she started dating in high school and went to IU with) was good on paper and not malicious, but he was ultimately unsupportive of her career ambitions and disinterested after the birth of their daughter despite being the one who wanted kids. (In this universe, Holly is Nancy's daughter with her ex and Mike is the late-in-the-game baby of Karen and Ted.) She works at the Hawkins Post for now and gets tons of shit for being a single mom.

Jonathan also works at the paper (a victory after years of menial jobs and night school) and is a single parent (of twelve-year-old Will, thanks to a series of harrowing events when he was in his teens). He and Nancy are work friends who become real friends who become...?

Steve works at his father's insurance company and is considered one of the biggest catches in Hawkins, but people are starting to talk because he hasn't settled down, and he's not really happy in his work. He didn't date Nancy in high school--they ran in different circles--but now he's smitten with her.

Barb is Nancy's BFF, as in canon. She's a nurse now and she lives in the same duplex as Nancy. She's also a lesbian and quietly dating another aged-up older-teen girl, but I'm not sure who yet. I'm leaning towards Robin (quirky music teacher whom everyone thinks is dating Steve, for a more light-hearted romance), Heather (prickly, troubled daughter of the Editor-in-Chief, for the moderate drama), or Chrissy (unhappily married to Jason, for the angst and high drama).

Tommy and Carol are married, quite happily, and refrain from bullying because they're adults. However, they do have a Company thing going with Steve ("Stevie...you know...no one wants you happy more than we do...no one...but isn't she a little bit, well...you know...?").

Generally everybody behaves a little better, because they're not literal teenagers.

I'm not sure where I'd go with it: no Upside Down, or there's just a 1980s-Polly-Platt-ghost-directed romantic dramedy that turns into a horror movie? That's one of the difficulties. Another is that it would change the Byers family dynamic considerably.

[the-firebird69]

There's a huge number of things going on basically the announcement has caused people to check with their leaders and see what's going on. And the consensus is that they're leaving and evacuating to the south and west of the United States and taking their stuff with them it's not a ton of hardware it's like 1/3 of one of the attacks on New Vegas but it is a sign that they're leaving they will have no defenses and they'll have to leave they have only moments to decide to tell their people or not that's not true but it would help a lot and they're kind of fussing around with it. They're thinking if they're still here then it'll be easier to get their hardware out and the people don't like that and they're beginning to leave

-sales of homes skyrocketed over the past 20 minutes. They were hovering around 4.5% and now they're at 3.5% remaining only for houses and that includes duplexes but they're not rented. At this rate by 8:00 p.m. they'll be sold all of them to the three parties before said mentioned. They are also vacating the campgrounds and taking campers and trailer with them including like double wides and things like that they're cutting them in half and sealing them up and moving very fast by the way they said it has to be all out tonight at the latest midnight and they're gassing up they're fueling up they're having people check their axles and the brakes on their campers and they're doing it themselves and the greasing it if able to a lot of them are closed but they have to check and it's a big movement 1.5% is huge that's about what it is but there are campers everywhere and we didn't include it because of the pain and they're parked on their friend's yard or the family's yard the clans yard most likely and that's another 2% of the population those guys are packing up and it almost kind of packed up but they're moving stuff out of the house and all over Florida Georgia Alabama and anywhere on the East Coast no they're basically just vacating Florida and the surrounding areas these toast they think they're going to storm from the Midwest and upper Midwest and they have a plan and yeah these people are anus they don't they're heinous they don't account for people who are alone and afraid and powerful and it's really a flaw they don't they don't check capabilities at all so they're going to leave and then tonight no they're trying to move their stuff out now it's kind of hard because everyone can see it but that's the way it goes and really you can't really see it even Stan and you can't see that coming across and I didn't it's right at the ocean and really you can only see it from shore 10 miles away and he knows that and they're moving out and Tommy Allen too is the stuff is out of sight and miscellaneous they're all over the place now they're mostly in Miami and they move that stuff all the time it's not big and it is a sign and they're leaving and the Sun is going to be stuck here foreigners and us and Max and the clones will be in and out and yeah you need to hear this clones you're going to be shocked and you're going to try and bring stuff and you're not you don't have it you don't have a fleet they're going to take out the rest of your fleet cuz you're cocky and can't get it that you will and we're going to hit you too we hate you your imbeciles and you should leave like these people are we can hear you snickering and saying dumb s*** when the max were hauling people off and us in the foreigners to the furnace and you're just stupid

Thor Freya

Wow these people are dumb I noticed that too these people kind of stupid but holy s*** these clones are idiots he says they've been trained in brainwashed that's the way it goes and I understand that from birth but holy cow it's weird

Mac Daddy

Olympus

It's very odd but we're kind of grateful it changes happening it needed to and we are preparing

Hera

We have a lot of stuff going all over the world and it is pretty meaty and we're going to be okay but we got to move out right now I'm sending in suggestions to Olympus immediately

Frank Castle hardcastle

We waited for this day but now it's time to be real men and women and we have to face what we did before and a lot more sternly these toddlers are going to get burned out pretty quick and that's the clones

Duke nukem Blockbuster

We need our foreigners in right now we're going to have a meeting and we mean other races other than us who are mostly here

Thor Freya

We do have people but not enough and they want us to move in and he knows how and we think maybe barge is from Brazil and bring it apartments and this contracts for a whole bunch of them and we can bring what we can put them in place

Uriel and Goddess Wife

It's a good idea

Mac

I'm going to sit and meet about it right now we have a whole bunch of ideas like that

Bitol and Goddess Wife

[hbfeiding]

stainless steel butt weld pipe fittings

SS304 SS316 and duplex stainless steel

Elbow, Tee, Cross, Cap, Reducer

Different thickness and size are available.

Welcome to order it from us.

#fittings #pipe #weld #seamless #elbow #tee #reducer #cap #cross #B16.9 #JIS

Tommy

Hebei Feiding Trade Co.,Ltd

[babydxhl]

@dustwereturn··: 

panic builds its foundation in tommy’s chest, heavy brick by heavy brick. he exhales shakily, hoping to pass it off; maybe he would feel better with a smoke in his hand, though he promised beth he’d cut back. tommy’s gaze remains fixated on the road, but his mind drifts beyond the ashen sludge coating the road, to the very FIRST day he met mary dahl. there were enough red flags to halt traffic for hours, yet he shook that small hand and sold his conscience away.

funny how after twenty-eight years, tommy finally got himself one … and he traded the damn thing for a paycheck. no one in the system would be surprised, but beth’s sweet face comes to mind and tommy aches for a do-over of his entire criminal life.

his palms dampen under his grip, and tommy momentarily wonders just what the fuck will happen if the wheel slips from his grasp and they CRASH in to one of the many snowbanks littering the side of the road. nothing that takes the heat off him, he’s sure, so tommy clasps the wheel tighter.

there is a small, sweaty squelch beneath his hands, and tommy shudders. “so where am i taking you, miss dahl? how far outta the city are we going?” beth, he longs to get home to beth.

Like a child with a worry stone, Mary swipes her thumb across the severed strip of plastic, sees her own name water damaged and smeared under a clouded rectangle. Ma ion Lou  e Da l 

In the long quiet before she speaks again, the city gives way to the darkened streets of suburbia, lawns turned to char and shrubs sweeping past in the headlights. Each house is a near identical duplex, an additional pillar or extra porch swing here and there the marker of Gothamites scraping out a semblence of individuality amid the cookie-cutter HOA hell.  

“Turn left. Then pull in, there.” 

It’s one of the least conspicuous homes, nothing out of place, a manicured hedge running the edge of the property line. “Turn the lights off,” she says, and always her voice is quiet, even, deliberately unphased even as the thought of neighbours peeking through curtains, remembering comings and goings flit through the front of her mind. Every time she closes her eyes, she can feel see the bracelet clasped tight around her wrist.

[arielovessims]

Two large families from very different backgrounds must live in a duplex apartment together. What would be the dynamic of these two households? Will there be chaos or will they all live harmoniously? How will their differences affect their neighborly relations? Or will they discover that they are not so different at all? 

So, new project!, because I needed something more fun and lighthearted to balance out the darker and more dramatic The New Heiress. Also, fun fact, I unironically love the Ottomases (because I like to suffer).

Disclaimer: I actually haven’t watched Full House, and I know the plot is completely different. I just needed a title to steal lol. I did, however, watch a K-drama with the same name (also a completely different plot).

Dynamite Duplex makeover by @plumbtales !

[whoopsiedaisiesandwhimsy]

some more small town sbi house because it’s been a criminally long time since I posted

Techno and Phil share a duplex

Tubbo and Tommy think Wilbur is the coolest thing ever and he’s a really great big brother

Tommy has a golden retriever collie mix named henry

Tubbo is two days older than Tommy

Tommy will occasionally, in a fit of rebellion, “move in” with Techno for a few days until he inevitably misses Tubbo too much and moves back in with Phil. Phil and techno just roll with it

Techno has a white Tibetan mastiff named Steve. Steve doesn’t do much

Tommy and Tubbo take one look at tall, gangly, socially awkward Ranboo and just go “big man needs us” and freaking adopt him and he just rolls with it because it’s affection and he couldn’t stop them anyway. Tommy is doing his very best to be a bad influence on Ranboo and Tubbo has threatened Techno with a custody war multiple times

Phil notices that Ranboo likes to be around the dogs but both dogs are very much someone else’s so he asks Ranboo if he wants a pet and they get him a bunny

Tommy and Tubbo have to be separated when either of them is sick because they’re both extra clingy when they’re sick and will get the other sick immediately. But it’s also very very hard to separate them

They swap back and forth between having breakfast at Techno’s or at Phil’s

Tommy and Phil are the same height, but Tommy is tall and Phil is short, I don’t make the rules

They have one car. It used to be Techno’s 

[hargrove-mayfields]

You’re The One I Want To Go Through Time With

Day one of HWOL is finally here!! So excited to share all I’ve written! For today I chose the prompt Neighbors AU!!! You can read this on ao3 also as part of the collection as well!!  Hope y’all like it!! 

Word Count: 11,952

Rated: G

It finally happens when he’s 15 years old. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it coming, but Steve gets kicked out.

In the very beginning of a particularly brutal Hawkins summer, he had decided to invite Tommy over to smoke weed in the pool house. He thought nothing of it, but the neighbors complained about the smell, and, coupled with every other act of his deemed irresponsible, immature, disgraceful, by his stuck-up parents, a couple of blunts was apparently the last straw.

They tell him the Harringtons had a reputation, an air of elegance and respect they had to upkeep, so they couldn’t just let him bring drugs onto their property. He thought it was ridiculous, considering that they were allowed as much wine aging in the cellar and expensive whiskey propped up on a hutch as they wanted, but when he’d brought it up he’d gotten nothing but a stern look.

They’d been through this a thousand times over, how worthless and terrible a son he could be, grounding him for bringing too many girls home, taking his car away when he failed a class, so he knew to expect a punishment.

This is obviously the next step, the throwing him out on the street thing, for years he could feel the neglect and tension starting to build up and boil over. Sometimes, they’d even hang threats of it over his head, so now that was told he had to be out of the mansion by the end of next week or there would be consequences, it couldn’t be too much of a shocker.

Though at some point, he’s got to wonder if they ever really thought as far ahead as consequences, or if they just knew they trained their boy well enough that it never got that far. If only he had more of a spine.

Now, as unsurprising as the scenario may be, Steve was still absolutely in no way, by any means ready to be thrown out on the streets before he even had his driver’s license.

In the case of emergency, like the time Stephen Sr. got just a little too rough and popped his wrist out of place, or when they’d left him alone for a month at age 9 and he went three days without food because he didn’t know how to turn the stove on, he had his aunt, the thankfully much more compassionate counterpart to his mother, who lived over in California.

The minute they’re gone, having passive aggressively hurried off somewhere, probably the country club or something, to complain about how disappointing their son was with their rich friends, Steve grabs a suitcase from the closet and gives his Aunt Margaret a call.

Before he knows it she’s got him a flight booked, a written agreement from her sister that proved taking him in was legal, and a set of luggage. Three days later, he was flying first class towards the rest of his life.

~~~~~~~

Touching down in San Francisco has got to be the most surreal thing he’s ever done.

He’d never even left the Midwest before, his farthest ventures being into the three states surrounding his home state, so to be charted off to the west coast? It’s an experience alright.

Aunt Margaret is there waiting for him, her jet black permed hair a few inches above the rest, her brown eyes sparkling with the kindest smile he’s ever seen as she runs up to hug him.

She takes all of his bags, swatting his hands away when he tries to carry even one, and makes him sit in the car while she shoves it all into the trunk.

He wasn’t used to not being the help, since that’s all his parents ever really saw him as anyways, only valuable as their son if they got something out of the time they spent with him. It’s got him feeling weird the whole drive back to the Margos apartment, like he’s in some alternate reality where people are nice to him for a change.

She lives in one of those shared places, a duplex where the house is divided into two halves for two different renters, the very kind his mother would’ve turned her nose up at despite having been raised in one herself. Margaret told him there was a mother and son who lived in the other half, but they’re quiet enough, and polite.

Just pulling up outside of the house, Steve already knows it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

The house itself, painted a pale shade of peeling yellow and missing the majority of the shingles off of the roof, is actually a reasonable size, a direct contrast to the mansion he grew up in, fit for a dozen but occupied by one most days.

Brutal summer heat has dried up the lawn and the garden so they aren’t perfectly tailored, not trimmed by underpaid staff or watered by automatic sprinklers. All across it there’s a scattering of ornaments, like colorful pinwheels in the front garden, and plastic flamingos standing guard by the mailbox.

There’s even a rickety old fence, all mossy and broken up to mark the edges of their property, so different from the white vinyl fence in his backyard at his parents house.

It would seem too that the garage was only big enough for one car, not three like he was used to, and that the makeshift gravel driveway leading up to it was at max capacity with only his aunts Oldsmobile Cutlass Calais, and a dinged up old Karmann Ghia the same color as the house parked in it.

Basically, there were none of the telltale signs that a neglected rich boy lived there, and from that alone he already knew he belonged here.

His aunt hurries him into their section of the house, theirs is the right side, so he can get to resting off the jet lag before he starts unpacking, but he’s far too distracted taking everything in to worry about being a little drowsy.

The rooms are small and the ceilings are low. Where there would’ve been beige and white and other sophisticated tones, there was a rainbow of colors in Margos apartment, from the curtains to the carpet, the Afghan on the back of the couch to the little trinkets in the entertainment center and windowsills.

He notices that, to accommodate for the heavy summer heat, there was a fan spinning in the corner, and all the windows were left wide open. His parents had the windows painted shut back home.

It might’ve been overwhelming, being thrown into a place like this so suddenly, but in his heart he knows this was what he was made for: a cozy life with someone who treated him with the bare minimum of respect.

~~~~~~~

Eventually Steve does fall asleep, the switch from Eastern Standard to Pacific time just being too great for his body. He doesn’t really mean to, he thought he’d just lay down for a minute while he was putting his clothes away in his new dresser, but he ends up sleeping until it’s almost dark out.

He goes looking for Margo when he realizes the house is empty, an irrational pit of dread growing in his chest at the familiarity of being alone, and finds her out back.

The yard also seems to be shared with the other house, a wispy line of barely showing through grass separating the two where a divider had once been, but had since been ripped up.

His aunt is with another woman, a blonde lady who he assumed was from the next door apartment, were sitting in mismatched lawn chairs, cigarettes glowing as the sun got lower and lower in the sky.

Margaret beckons him over once she notices him, and shows him off to the woman. It’s not at all like his mother would’ve done it, none of the flaunting him to make a good impression. This is more like her wanting to introduce him because she genuinely cares.

In a way, it almost makes Steve more uneasy. He could handle all the fake stuff with only the slightest hint of discomfort at being gawked at, because most of the time he’d never have to see those people again, but this was astronomically different.

“Maria, this is my nephew Steve.” Deep blue eyes seem to take him in, accompanied by a polite smile that makes his stomach drop for no good reason.

He panics, shifts into the role of the perfect little socialite he’d been working on his whole life. Without thinking, he extends his hand for her to and produces the generic response his mother’d trained into him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms..”

She takes his hand, but looks a little surprised about doing it. “Hargrove. But we don’t have to do formalities.”

“Right.” It feels awkward to Steve, but judging from the laid back attitude of the women, it’s not a universal sentiment. That only makes it more embarrassing, to be the only one bothered by it.

His aunt leans back in her chair, tapping the ash of the end of her cigarette and tells him, “Go ahead and grab a chair Stevie.”

He straightens his back out and scans the yard, expecting a chair to already be propped open somewhere. The confusion must be apparent on his face when he finds nothing but grass and more grass, because his aunt specifies, “By the shed, kiddo.”

His parents always told him they weren’t allowed to have lawn furniture except the pool chairs cemented to the ground, because they said it didn’t fit the lifestyle they tried to lead. Even the concept of a shed would’ve been insulting to their tastes.

He's done enough growing up to know now that they were just afraid to look too much like they were people who lived in rural Indiana instead of in true big city luxury. They couldn’t risk seeming too much like they weren’t in the upper middle, it would be a disgrace.

The contrast between that and just sitting out there and not having his guard up is so, grounding. Not having anything at all to do but just, sit and appreciate instead of performing and worrying, it’s a lot to take in at once.

He was so nervous the whole way up, even though it was his aunt and he already knew she was nice, that they wouldn’t get along, since that’s the way things always were with his own mum, and lord knows he hardly ever even spoke to his father.

But it’s really not tense at all, actually, it’s sort of the opposite. For once in his life he feels free of expectations, and takes the moment to just exist. Ruthie and Stephen Sr. had long ago made sure that was a concept he could barely understand.

It’s not too long after that that the screen door to Maria’s side of the house swings open, scaring Steve so bad he almost tips his chair over as he startles.

There’s a boy who he’s guessing is about his age leaning out the door, but from the distance he’s at and with how dark it’s getting, Steve doesn’t see much else about him. “M back momma.”

“Okay baby.” The screen door clicks shut again in the next moment, and Maria offers Steve an apologetic smile “You’ve gotta excuse my Billy. He’s not too good with other kids.”

“No, it’s alright.” He assures her, like a polite social butterfly should.

Maria goes in a little while after that, and Margaret and Steve follow suit, since the sun’s almost all the way down.

But Steve’s curious now. He wants to know more about the boy, Billy, he thinks was what Maria called him. It’s only right to wonder, being that they’re neighbors now and all.

It gets brought up later that night, when they’re watching TV on the couch, a thrifted, feather stuffed thing he thought was simultaneously the most hideous and most comfortable thing he’d ever sat on.

“I didn’t know you had neighbors.” He’d been trying to work himself up to talking about it, sitting in the corner of the couch in a little ball and picking at his nails as he worked up his courage.

It was funny, being so nervous over casual conversation, but he guesses he could blame his parents for that one.

His own mum wouldn’t have even paid him any mind, at most pretending to listen while her eyes stayed trained to the television or magazine or coworker in front of her and hummed a non committal response, but Margo turns her whole body on the couch to face him while she answers him, with a complete sentence even. “Oh, people used to come and go all the time over there.”

“How long have they been here? Maria and her son?”

She thinks for a moment, a little surprised at her nephew's interest in the topic of their neighbors. “I don’t know, probably about a year or so now.”

“What’re they like?” He comes across as maybe a little too eager, and his aunt notices.

“What’s got you so curious?” There’s a teasing bit of reprimanding in her tone, just enough to suggest that she knows he’s being a nib-nose, but doesn’t mind it.

And he feels himself flush, because he is being nosy. To try to save face just a little, he comes up with an excuse that isn’t quite a lie. “Nothin’, just knew all my neighbors back in Hawkins, I guess.”

But she wasn’t upset with him, it wasn’t her intention to get him to shut up, like it would’ve been had he heard the same thing from one Ruthie Harrington, so she answers that question too. “I don’t know, they’re nice, sort of reserved, but I’ve never had any problems with them.”

~~~~~~

The two boys are properly introduced for the first time the next morning, when Steve goes out to fetch the mail for Margret. It feels like the least he can do for bumming off of his aunt.

Stepping out on the porch just shy of 8 in the morning and not seeing dewey grass, or the early sunshine muted behind rolling fog and dreary clouds is something he’s going to have to get used to.

Summers in Hawkins were always muggy, full of thunderstorms and unpredictably dreary days. San Francisco is so bright, so different, and such a relief.

While Steve basks in it, the already warm breeze and the sun shining bright, the neighbors’ door opens up and Billy comes out to do the same, standing on his tip-toes to reach up into the mailbox beside the door, holding a traveler's mug of coffee in the opposite hand.

When he turns around to go back inside, Steve, staying true to wanting to get to know the other boy better, has taken a few steps closer, and has extended a hand for Billy to shake, the same sort of introduction panic he’d felt last night.

But, Billy, seeing that his hands are a bit preoccupied by a stack of bills and a cup of coffee, just offers a sheepish smile.

Steve settles for a formal introduction without a handshake, though it’s still too stiff an interaction to really get to know him beyond the awkward new rich kid in town. “Hi. My name is Steve Harrington. I’m uh, I'm your new neighbor.”

“Pleasure to meet you Steve Harrington. M’Billy” They stand there, neither of them making any move to do anything but just look at one another. Billy clears his throat and shakes the coffee cup towards Steve, sensing that maybe this was the place for hospitality. “You want some? My momma always makes too much.”

“No thanks. I’m uh, allergic to coffee beans.”

“Huh.” He seems amused by that, scrunches his nose up like he doesn’t believe it, and Steve wants to curl up and disappear. “I’ll see you later then, Steve Harrington.”

He watches the other boy turn back to leave after that, and still sort of just stands there before his brain comes back on and he realizes he should say something in return. “Right, uh, bye.”

It’s just a moment's passing, but Steve can’t get the interaction out of his head.

He chalks it up to being nervous that his new neighbors won’t like him, the fear that Aunt Margo will send him back to his parents if he can’t get along here, and that makes logical sense, except, what he’s caught up on is Billy’s crooked smile, and his blond curls that lay just past his ears, messy from just waking up and bleached from the sun, and the spatter of dark freckles across his nose.

First full day in California and he has a crush on the neighbor kid. He can’t believe himself.

There isn’t very much time to mull that fact over though, because, over breakfast, what his aunt calls her ‘special occasion breakfast’ of cinnamon rolls with ice cream, she tells him she’s going to do some errands today.

And that’s alright, he tells her he’ll be fine all by himself, and he is, for the first few hours, but the more time she’s gone, the worse and worse he starts to feel. It’s that worry again, that deep rooted fear that he’ll be left alone forever.

Experience has taught him to try to calm himself down, to catch his breath and try to focus on the fact that he knows he’s being irrational, but those techniques don’t cut it, as they often don’t, and he’s sending himself further into a panic attack trying to think too hard about it

Sitting inside, he gets stir crazy, feels suffocated by everything that had before been inviting to him, so he goes for some fresh air out front. Watching the road for so long, just waiting for the Oldsmobile to pull up, he starts to feel antsy again, so he goes out back where it’s quiet instead.

There’s a glider on the porch back there, an old rusty thing that squeaked every time Steve rocked it forward or back, but the calming motion of it is probably the only thing keeping him from spiraling too far.

He doesn’t really know what time it is anymore, only that he’s hungry, and that the sun’s going down, and that he’s been sort of zoned out back there for a long while. He feels hot and cold at the same time, and he’s lost in his head.

The sound of a screen door gently tapping against the side of the house brings his eyes up from the spot on the ground he’d been staring at with tears in his eyes, but it isn’t his aunt Margaret coming home, it’s just Billy.

With his hands stuffed in his pockets, leaning against the wall between the back doors, he says real quiet like, “Momma told me to ask if you wanted some of the dinner she made.”

He shrugs. “I’m alright.”

“I figured.” Billy looks at the floor while he tries to figure out how he wants to approach this. For a long moment, neither of them say a word, no sound between them but distant field crickets, until Billy asks, his voice quiet enough it barely registers in Steve’s mind. “You okay?”

If he’s being entirely honest, Steve doesn’t really know if he’s okay. He trusted his aunt enough to move all the way across the country with her, and yet he can’t manage enough trust to believe her when she said she’d come home from some errands? Doesn’t sound too okay to him.

But he’s not in Hawkins, he’s away from the people he knows for sure wouldn’t be coming back for him unless it was to pull something like they had and treat him like garbage. So in a way, he guesses he’s better than ever.

Unable to think of any words that might convey what he’s thinking, Steve just shrugs again, but Billy seems to get it. He sits down next to Steve on the glider and plants his feet so it won’t move, and so Steve’s attention will be on him.

Knowing he’s got Steve’s focus, since he looks over at him with glossy eyes, Billy tries to reassure him, “Your aunt’s a good lady. She wouldn’t leave you.”

“Who said I thought she would?” It sounds pathetic, wet and stuffy with the remnants of tears he hadn’t known were falling, but there’s a vulnerability he couldn’t hide behind even the toughest of masks that reveals he isn’t being honest.

“The way you watched for her car said enough.” It makes Steve feel exposed, having a total stranger see right through him, but Billy explains himself. “When my momma went out looking for this place, I was sure I’d never see her again.”

“Why did you guys move here?” If he was going to psychoanalyze Steve, he felt it was only fair to ask Billy a pressing question back.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me.” He deflects it back onto Steve in a way that might’ve seemed cocky, but it's obvious he’s just trying to avoid the question.

Steve won’t let him win this one though, maybe just to save his own ego, or pretend like he hadn’t been caught crying by someone he met that morning, or maybe it was just because he had asked first, but he wants Billy to answer, so he tells him, with the slightest hint of a bashful smile playing at his lips, “You first.”

“Stubborn.” He cracks a smile back though, and goes ahead and goes first at the other boys insistence. “My dad’s a real nasty s.o.b. Would get drunk and mean for no good reason, so momma took me and we high-tailed it before he did anything too drastic.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting, why he even felt like it was any of his business, and he doesn’t know what he should say to that.

For lack of a better response, he gives his own little life story summary. “My parents were rich. They didn’t want me, so they have the time of day for me. No matter what I did they punished me for it, grounded me, hit me, sent me to Christian school, until they just got sick of me, I guess.”

“That sounds pretty shitty.” Billy offered.

“Yeah, yours too.”

After a while, Billy, sounding for a moment like he’s a lot wiser than any 14 year old has the right to be, says “What matters is we’re here now.”

Steve feels so touched hearing that. It was so simple a thing for the other boy to say, but coming from Billy after he’d just shared what he did, it means a lot more than just basic condolences.

Hardly anybody had ever been that genuine in anything they said to him. Steve can hardly force a response out of his shocked mouth. As he looks over at Billy’s face, still turned up towards the sky, he sees all that meaning there illuminated by the stars, and he's able to mutter a breathless, “Yeah.” in response.

They both jump when the door flies open, and aunt Margo comes running over to Steve. Frantically she explains that she’d been trying to make sure everything was legal, only to find that some of Steve’s papers were missing, and they had to try to track them all down and get some of them faxed, and it ended up taking way longer than expected.

It feels nice to be understood. Just a few years ago his parents left for what was supposed to be a three day trip to Indianapolis, only they didn’t come back for what was almost two months. Once they were home they didn’t even mention it, just continued going about their business as usual until it was time to leave again. His aunt taking the effort to explain herself was already a vast improvement from that.

He lets her pull him into a big hug, accepts her apology as the air is squeezed out of his lungs, and when he pulls away from her, Billy’s gone.

~~~~~~~

Finish reading on ao3! You can find this posted under the same title by ej_writer or as part of the hwol collection over there! Sorry tumblrs word limits deemed this too long!

[inkribbon796]

What a Beautiful Wedding Ch. 2: Captive Audience

Summary: Friday TV Listing Guide:

5:30 PM (PST) Making Waves (CC)—Comedy

Life in the Barnum household is usually chaotic. With nine kids and three dads, school life and work is always an adventure but they manage.

(2) (3) (6) (12)

Innit for Trouble (CC)—Comedy-Drama

Best friends, Tubbo and Tommy (Tuberculosis “Tubbo” Underscore and Theseus “Tommy” Innit), compete to be the best hotel managers along Brighton coastline. All while trying to balance a crazy home life and even crazier customers.

(5) (12) (24)

Sanders Sides (CC)—Comedy

Thomas (Thomas Sanders) projects the different aspects of his personality into characters called the Sanders Sides. With their help he tries to get through crazy adventures and fun situations.

(3) (6) (24)

A/N: Welcome to my personal hell that is sitcoms. I just decided to make them into funny angst.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

//////~~~~//////~~~~//////~~~~//////

CHANNEL 2

//////~~~~//////~~~~//////~~~~//////

[Making Waves is filmed in front of a live (CAPTIVE) studio audience.]

Dark does eventually pull himself out of bed, which caused Chase to grumble and hold onto him a bit tighter, but he’s eventually able to pull himself downstairs for his first coffee of the day.

It’s Saturday and early but one or two of the kids are already up. Namely Host and King who were always early birds. The two teenagers looked like they were still in the process of waking up.

“Coffee’s already hot,” King grumbled as he stared at his phone, not as awake as he’d like to be, a black cat in his lap.

“Oh thanks,” Dark told him as reached for a coffee cup.

At that point Illinois raced into the room, a huge excited smile on his face, “Guys, I think I’m in love.”

[OOOOOOHHHHH.]

“The poor thing,” King rolled his eyes. “I’ll start the funeral.”

[LAUGHTER]

“Hey come on, he’s the one, I know it,” Illinois walked over as Chase slowly dragged himself into the kitchen. He set his chin on Dark’s shoulder and was trying to reach for the coffee pot. Dark gave him a little half smile and passed him an empty cup.

“You’d think you’d run out of people to date since your [BLEEP] has killed more people than a serial killer.” King rolled his eyes.

“Boys,” Chase grumbled. “If yer[1] gonna[2] argue, at least wait until I’ve had coffee. Or at least until I’ve had my fourth.”

[LAUGHTER]

Illinois paused to look around, confused, he’d thought he’d heard . . .

While Illinois was having his crisis and the adults were trying to fully wake up, two of the family’s preeten triplets were outside in the backyard.

Memento and Mori each had a lobster in one hand, a roll of tape and a BB gun in another. Chase spotted them through the blinds and raced outside.

[LAUGHTER]

Chase did a double take, “Boys, the hell are yeh[3] doin[4]?”

Dark lowered the tablet and gave the pre-teens a firm stare.

“Science project,” Memento smiled at him.

“What possible science project could you maniacs be doing?” King demanded from the window. “You two going to fight them?”

“No,” Mori told him. “We’re just filming something.”

[LAUGHTER]

“It’s too early fer[5] this,” Chase groaned and went right back inside.

[LAUGHTER]

[Musical jingle as scene transitions.]

Much later in the day Chase was with Memento and Mori, the two had wanted to go to the local park. And in a weird turn of events Illinois wanted to come with him.

Which was weird because on his days off school, when Illinois wasn’t going for runs or hikes, he was with Dark over at city hall just spending time with his dad.

But here he was.

“So, yeh got a reason ta be here or just wanted ta get outta the house?”[6] Chase smiled.

Illinois was looking off in a corner of the park where a couple duplexes sat. “Huh?”

[LAUGHTER]

“Yer[7] new crush here?” Chase kept a distant eye on two of his boys. Normally you could leave a pair of twelve-year-olds alone for an hour or two but that wasn’t the best idea with Memento and Mori.

Illinois was more than a bit red in the face.

[LAUGHTER]

“What?” Illinois stiffened.

“What’s their name?” Chase smiled.

“Eric,” Illinois smiled. “I just look at him and I just . . . I don’t know, I just feel something.”

“Well, just be careful,” Chase told him. “I don’t wanna see yeh get hurt again.”[8]

Illinois nodded solemnly before looking up and seeing the back door of one of the houses open up and the young man shot up and raced over to the chain link fence. Chase smiled as he watched him and followed after him a bit slower but kept his distance.

“Hey, Eric,” Illinois greeted as he got up to the fence and Eric jumped in surprise. “You wanna[9] hang out?”

“Ills,” Eric looked around in terror, his face a blush-red mess. “My dad’s home early.”

“Ohh, you want me to,” Illinois started before the back door flew open and Derek Derekson stormed out.

“Eric! Are you talking to that boy again‽” Derek shouted and he stormed over. Eric almost tripped over himself trying to get away from the fence.

At the yelling and the sight of Illinois flinching away, Chase raced in and pulled Illinois back so he could stand in front of him when Derek stormed to the door of the fence.

He stopped when he recognized Chase.

“You’re the Mayor’s boyfriend right?” Derek said, with the type of tone that would have been followed by an insult or a punch if he thought there was a fight he could win.

“One ‘a ‘em, yeah, why?”[10] Chase had his hands in his pockets, mostly so he wasn’t punching the man.

Derek looked at Chase, clearly deciding something.

“Yeh have somethin’ ta say, say it,”[11] Chase told him.

Glaring at him, Derek stepped back into his property, “Nah, have a nice day. Eric, gotta[12] tell you something about work, come on.”

Eric snapped to scurry inside, looking terrified. Illinois looked concerned as Chase pulled him away.

“Come on, Ills, gotta[12] get the boys,” Chase told the teen and decided to talk to Dark about this.”

//////~~~~//////~~~~//////~~~~//////

CHANNEL 12

//////~~~~//////~~~~//////~~~~//////

“Well it’s not my fault,” Tommy shouted as he stormed into the bed and breakfast’s lobby. He had a starfish still on his head and was covered in seaweed. Ghostbur trailing in after them. Tubbo and Ranboo behind him each equally drenched in seawater and kelp. The only people of their group still somewhat dry was Tubbo and Ranboo’s adopted son Michael, and Tommy’s little son: Shroud. The two little boys were in little towel hoodies. Michael in a little pig hoodie, and Shroud in a black spider hoodie. Both of them were only wet from splashing in the water.

“Ranboo dragged me right inta the ocean an’ tried ta drown me!”[13] Tommy shouted in an angry huff as Tubbo placed both the young toddlers into a little playpen behind the service desk.

“You dragged me in,” Ranboo reminded sharply.

[LAUGHTER]

“I smell like sea grass an’[14] [BLEEP][15]!” Tommy groaned.

[LAUGHTER]

“[BLEEP]!”[15] Shroud shouted happily.

[GASPS followed by LAUGHTER]

“That’s right,” Tommy stomped over to pick Shroud up who was babbling happily. “[BLEEP][16] you Ranboo!”

[GASPS followed by LAUGHTER]

“That’s—” Ranboo started. “Come on, I’m just trying to help.”

“[BLEEP][16] Ranboo!” Shroud copied him, flailing his arms out, Ranboo flinched in surprise. Tubbo laughed at them.

[LAUGHTER]

Tommy let out one of his cackles. “That’s my boy! Now I’m gonna[2] prove I can do it by myself.”

//////~~~~//////~~~~//////~~~~//////

CHANNEL 6

//////~~~~//////~~~~//////~~~~//////

Thomas walked through the park with his boyfriend Nico right next to him. “I don’t know, Virgil’s just been making me feel so keyed up all day.”

“Well what’s been going on recently,” Nico was trying to think up a way to help him after everything he’d confided to him.

“I don’t know,” Thomas said. “Virgil is actually working with Janus, and they never work together. And Logan says that we’re in some kind of fake—”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. you’re

2. going to

3. you

4. doing

5. for

6. So, you got a reason to be here or just wanted to get out of the house?

7. Your

8. I don’t want to see you get hurt again.

9. want to

10. One of them, yeah, why?

11. You have something to say, say it

12. have to

13. Ranboo dragged me right into the ocean and tried to drown me!

14. and

15. shit

16. Fuck!

[ao3feed-harringrove]

Ames is for the Boys

https://ift.tt/3fzphgE

by Dariary_Absentee

Tommy, Billy, Steve, Carol, Heather, and Robin have just moved into their Miami duplex....they've got furniture, they've got their belongings, but what about the other stuff??? Welp, looks like Billy's got take the two dinguses, Tommy and Steve, with him to Ames discount department store (ie. 1980s Dollar Tree) to get some stuff for their home. Humor and hijinks ensue. Billy nearly has an aneurysm, Steve wants to set the house on fire, and Tommy doesn't know how to decorate to save his life. It's gonna be a long day.

For the discord because I don't know how to write anymore.

Words: 3478, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Tommy Hagan, Carol Perkins, Robin Buckley

Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Tommy Hagan/Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Tommy Hagan/Carol Perkins

Additional Tags: Carol and Robin make cameos so...don't expect a lot, idk what this is, Crack Fic, crack with a little heart, Humor and Hijinks, miami florida, Implied fwb M/M/M relationship, Future Fic, obviously Billy is alive

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3fzphgE

[alitheamateur]

Lights, Camera, Action?

TOMMY CONLON ONE-SHOT

Characters: Tommy Conlon/Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Explicit Sexual Content. Language. Slightly dominating male. Public sex.

Summary: Tommy is coaxed into making a PR appearance for an upcoming tournament, and needs to let off some steam before smiling for the cameras. When you deny him, that need only grows for Tommy, leaving him no choice but to take matters into his own hands. 

Word Count: 2,395

You had been dabbling recently with an edgier sense of fashion, and after careful consideration (and several grueling hours of window shopping) decided on a timeless black strapless jumpsuit. The fit wasn’t tackily form fitting, but hugged your waist tastefully and ever-so-slightly complimented your modest chest. Thankful for Tommy’s sufficient height, you slid on the backstrap of a rather heighted stiletto while tucking a loose wave of hair behind your ear.

“Fuck me....” you heard his gravelly undertone huff from behind, sounding as if the sight he beheld literally exhausted him to look at.

“Tommy Conlon!” Standing straight, you turned to discover his sulky arms crossed in the entryway of the bathroom, shaking his head with a sinful upward turn of his mouth. 

He was a vision every day in faded sweats sitting on the v-cut of his hips, and a probably torn t-shirt. But the man was absolutely murderous in a suit on the rare occasion he was somehow coaxed into wearing one. No one forced Tommy to do a single thing that he didn’t want to, but occasionally you could pout your mouth just right, and maybe persuade him into a thing or two.

“That was a demand, not an observation, y’know…” he said, sauntering toward you with a lip pinched between his slightly uneven top row of teeth. He began to pull lightly at the top button of his crisp white shirt that contrasted his tanned skinned like sunshine and moonlight, readying himself for the very act he had suggested.

“Ah, ah, ah! Freeze,” you warned him with one ample finger to the exposed, hot flesh between his collarbones. “We’re already late, and I didn’t buy this outfit for nothing.”

The pair of you were to attend a PR event for a summer tournament Tommy was participating in, and his trainer threatened to pull him from the card if he couldn’t put on a professional face and make his requested appearance. So tonight, he’d resentfully wag you around on his arm, rolling his gray eyes every time the cameras flashed, and you would definitely take shameless advantage of the impressively stocked open bar.

He chivalrously escorted you down the brick stairs of your duplex and opened the passenger side of his newly purchased, classic model Mustang. It was a purchase he had made hastily with one of the first checks from an impressive victory, and spent overly excessive amounts of time rebuilding it to it’s full potential. The dark hues of the four-wheeled stallion suited Tommy faultlessly. Dark, potentially dangerous, and seeping with raw sexuality.

His thick fingers brushed away your long, chestnut waves to one side exposing a July sun-kissed shoulder where he placed a sticky, lingering kiss. You heard an airy chuckle in close proximity to your ear, no doubt knowing it was a reaction to the rash-like chills he instigated all over your body.

“How you gonna hold out on my lookin’ like this, Y/N? You know I ain’t gonna be able to behave…” the always animalistic aroused man filled his grasping paw with the swell of your taut backside.

Tommy was uncontrollably sexual from nearly sunrise, to sunset. Not that it was a complaint per say to have the likes of a statuesque man such as him fawning over you constantly. But you were all too familiar with the twisted, sensual games he liked to play when you attempted the valiant effort to muster up the courage and turn him down. The night was still very young, and already Tommy had on his best game face.

Upon starting the car to back carefully from your driveway, he leaned to place a hot hand just north of your knee. You assumed it was his request to hold your hand on the drive, but when the veined hand in question squeezed agonizingly tight, and deliberate you knew those suspicions were far from correct. Shifting in your seat, you mocked your movements to appear as if merely adjusting into a more comfortable position, careful to stifle the airy squeak of desire from your throat. But, resulting from the nervous squirms, your seatbelt strap had minimally exposed a teasing peak of your breast, pulling open the u-shaped sweetheart neck of your jumpsuit. As if smelling out the accidental uncovering of cleavage, Tommy lifted finger to trace teasingly upon the curve of your bosom leaving one hand safely on the wheel.

“You tryin’ to get me to pull this car over, are ya’?” Tommy wiggled awkwardly in his own seat, drawing attention to the very clear outline of the pulsing member thru the confines of his slacks. He licked his wanton mouth like a lapping kitten, and laid his head frustratingly upon the headrest.

Unconsciously, your mind began testing strategies on how he could take you in the car considering the inconvenience of your one-piece outfit, when you suddenly felt a whispering breeze of air on your chest. Taking advantage of your clearly distracted state, Tommy had finagled a way to pull down your top and was now rolling and tugging at your standing nipples.

“To… Tom. Tommy, are you crazy?! Someone could see,” you weakly scolded him behind closed eyes and a lulling tongue. Your body reacted by tensing like stone, but somehow your legs felt as tottering as Jello.

“Why d’ya think I got the darkest window tint on this car, baby? Ain’t nobody gonna get a sight of these creamy tits but me. I promise.” He continued the sinister rubs of his hands, and you felt the speed of the car slowly declining while the passing headlights seemed to speed furthermore.

When your mushed brain was able to relay the message to open your eyes, Tommy was easing the car into a corner parking space at a park in close proximity to the conference hall where the event was being held. Once placing the gear to the “P” on the dash, he searched the side of his seat for the lever to scoot himself further from the steering wheel of the car. Clearing making room for whatever tantric scenario he was rehearsing in his mind.

“You gonna crawl on outta that little outfit, or you plan on makin’ me tear it open to get what I been wantin’?”

You couldn’t look away from his delicious, hypnotizing stares and remained unmoved where you sat, breasts still catching the light of a full moon, and the green haze of the radio dials. Taking way more time than he saw fit, he opened his door exiting the car. Sitting awestruck and panting there alone in the still running vehicle, a sea of confusion drowned you. But suddenly, when a dark figure loomed on the outside of your murky, tinted window and nearly ripped the door from the hinges upon opening, it all made sense.

The impossibly broad man grasped you gently, but purposefully about the wrist and guided you to raise from your seat. You instinctively reached to shield your naked torso from the possible wondering eyes, but then noticed the vacant lot around you. Tommy was no fool, nor amateur to these racy situations, and he brought the two of you to this particular place knowing the solitary location. It was no accident you wound up here. He sluggishly discarded his suit jacket to your now empty seat, and unfastened his belt as he calmly relocated to the front end of the black sports car.

His lack of vocal explanations made you shutter with orgasmic exhilaration, knowing whatever Tommy planned would have you perspiring and writhing at some point in the exchange.

“C’mere, Y/N. I need some’n from ya’.” The headlights of the car had been shut off, but the dim orange of parking lights highlighted the calm demeanor across Tommy’s slightly scruffy face.

Wise, and aroused enough to not protest, your heels clacked boldly against the cracking chunks of blacktop below you as you followed the delectable mans’ orders. You should’ve been properly accustomed to your beau and his otherworldly visual aesthetics by now, but it seemed he had made a dirty deal with father time himself, and only got more handsome with age.

“And what makes you think I’m just going to hand over whatever it is than you need, Mr. Conlon?” You cooed, dragging lower the upper half of your clothing, now revealing the feminine skin just below your navel.

He lifted you then with little effort onto the hood heated by the smothering summer air, flat on your exposed back, stuffing his hands inside the rolled up mess of your jumpsuit to tug your legs from it. His eyes glazed with rigorous, carnal desire when he was met with only bare flesh underneath your clothing.

“Wha’ do we have here then, hm? Somebody was askin’ for a lil’ romp wi’ me by the looks of it.” He chuckled sultrily. His Pittsburgh lilt coming through more dominant as it usually did in when he was kidnapped by unmanageable lust.

“Don’t flatter yourself, mister. It was strictly for…… comfort purposes,” you attempted a logical excuse, but the tilting nod of his head gave way that he knew for certain the cheeky gesture was intended only to rile him.

Tommy lifted one of your petite legs to lay atop his shoulder and kissed the protruding ankle bone next to his mouth. Never missing a beat, he lazily slid his nose up the line of your calf, knee, mid-thigh, seemingly to inhale your aroma like a predatory jungle cat. His tongue almost unnoticeably stuck from between his lips, leaving a trail of saliva upon your skin to catch the effects of the breezy night wind. Your breathing pattern hitched when two coarse fingers sketched a tickling trail between your now parted southern lips, and Tommy exhaled a breathy laugh of giddy passion.

“By the feel of this slick spot between ya’ thighs, I think you’re gonna be just fine with givin’ me what it is I need from ya’, little girl.” One of the assaulting fingers curled inside your warm entrance, and the other unhurriedly followed suit. The bustle of passing freeway traffic only a short mile or two distance from us only augmented the allure of the already risky situation, and you knew Tommy’s adrenaline was indeed off the charts.

A heated moan of welcome danced from your lips as your back arched further into his slow-pounding hand, all the while the car beneath you rocked rhythmically with his motions. Licks like tepid bath water poured over the lobe of your ear and the pulse in your neck, and you felt slight twitches take over your legs.

“Tommy, I’m almost there. I wanna feel you, please…”

I knew I wouldn’t need to beg. Tommy didn’t care how you got your release as long as he was the cause, so he wouldn’t have any arguments in satisfying you with another member of his body.

He kept a thumb perfectly pressured on your begging clit while smoothly taking down his zipper.

“I guess I oughta get these outta the way, huh. Since I know you’ll go ‘n make a mess of ‘em,” he teased dropping the dark navy shade of his pants just above his knees.

He yanked you sternly and eagerly lower on the hood, evening himself up to the desired target before entering at a torturously slow pace. Thankful in that instant you had decided on loose, relaxed hair for the evening considering the rutting, flailing movements of your head. Tommy never closed his eyes when the two of you made love, afraid he may miss the bounce of your perfectly portioned breasts, or the needful way you gnawed on your lip almost drawing blood when he grazed your internal sweet spot.

“That’s what my girl likes, ain’t it? Tell me, baby. How’s that feelin’?” He antagonized with a furrowed, smiling brow. Tommy was a man of few words in the public eye, but an explicit poet in the bedroom, and he expected the same of his partner.

He knew your body as well as he knew the pages of an MMA rulebook, so he understood fully just how stupidly crazy those slow thrusts made you. He said you were the first woman he’d known to go ‘fuckin’ ape shit’ with hard, drawn-out movements rather than the sloppy, highspeed pumps. But he quickly grew to love himself those less exaggerated speeds, and found a happy medium to suit you both.

 The modest leg coverage of your clothing choice would be necessary when he was done with you, feeling the aches of fingerprint bruises already embedded into your thighs. The marks of crescent moons would still be lingering there tomorrow, a naughty reminder of how powerfully possessive Tommy was.

“Just like that, Tom. I’m getting so close. You’re so good, babe,” I showered his ego with unashamed compliments, feeling a tight knot tangling in my lower belly.

He pulled you up to rest on your elbows, desiring a plainer view of the contorted screams of orgasm that impended closely, then nearly knocked you unconscious with the strike of his kiss.

A shrieking cry pulsed from inside you, followed by the increased cadence of his in and out movements, announcing his own guttural explosion. Tommy’s head lilted backwards facing the open sky, and from my point of view, he resembled a feverish werewolf calling out to the fullness of the moon.

“Much betta. Now maybe I won’t lose my shit and break some reporters nose at this fuckin’ thing,” he stated while offering you a hand in aid as you scooted to drop onto the ground.

“Would you mind handing me some clothes, Conlon. I’d prefer not to get arrested tonight for public indecency.” You tiptoed for a kiss as the man offered an open leg of the jumpsuit for you to step into.

 The two of you giggled like law-breaking teenagers the entire night, feeling sly that no one in the room knew about the very public ravishing that had taken place just hours earlier. Tommy seemed annoyed, yet controlled amongst the vast media questioning and countless photo-ops, and you gave yourself the proverbial pat on the back for probably being the cause of such. All the while in your mind, you amped up for the next public event he’d drag you to, wondering whether these bathroom doors had locks on them.

[cinemamablog]

The Devils and Me

What was my biggest priority after moving to Los Angeles in the summer of 2016? Sure, I interviewed right away to earn a steady paycheck, but that wasn’t at the top of my To Do list. Oh no, my twisted priorities tend to put two things at the top of any list: movies and food. And in this case, I had my heart set on seeing a very special, censored, and often banned movie for the first time: Ken Russell’s the Devils.

I bought the tickets to the screening before even setting foot on California soil that June. I told my husband, Adam, and roommate, Kris, that my plan was set in stone: we were going to see the Devils. Adam was an okay sport and Kris at least acted enthusiastic, since I rarely did him wrong when choosing what oddities we would watch next. (We worked through the Criterion boxset of Jacques Demy movies and laughed through Bogdanovich’s Paper Moon together in my duplex.)

The day finally came and I drove the three of us out to West Hollywood. We parked in a residential neighborhood and walked to the theatre on Fairfax. Once inside, I sat down with an embarrassingly big grin on my face, as I do when I’ve been anticipating a movie.

The film started with an absurd and funny tone. Or at least, I thought it was funny. It can be hard to tell if a movie is actually funny or just earnest at repertory screenings, because film bros laugh at everything. Unfamiliar with this obnoxious ritual, I laughed along with them as Oliver Reed threw a crocodile through a window. (To be fair, that scene still reads hilarious to me.) As the film progressed, it retained its absurdity, but took on a Crucible-esque critique of injustice and religious hypocrisy. The chuckles grew more subdued and less frequent. Oliver Reed burned at the stake and Vanessa Redgrave’s deranged and horny nun treasured his charred femur. I loved it.

Adam didn’t like it, Kris was neutral, and I was over the moon to have such a perfect introduction to the riches of film at my fingertips. (At least, in comparison to Iowa.) It was my second Ken Russell movie (the first was Tommy) and my first Oliver Reed movie and now I’m in love. I like to pretend we named Baby Oliver after him.

One year later, when the theatre closed due to allegations of sexual misconduct, I wasn’t terribly upset at the loss of the space. (Though I did have a membership that needed cancelled.) Besides the gross behavior behind the scenes, I always had to park up to half a mile away for a free parking spot and the rigid seats felt worse than any school’s desk. But more importantly, I felt disappointed that my haven had hurt people. Women who, like me, thought they found a space to enjoy film with like-minded people in a city of millions. Everything felt warped and twisted, like a dream that starts out lovely and turns into a nightmare. Why do men have to ruin everything?

Regardless, I cherish the memories I made at repertory screenings, whether watching midnight movies like Multiple Maniacs and Lemora with Kris or enjoying a quiet Sunday morning to myself at The Silent Treatment. Now that I’m a mother, going to the theatre at all proves difficult, but one of my long term dreams is to host a screening series wherever I live. I have a lot of ideas for themes, and someday I’ll probably share them here, but for now I’ll just recall the rush of seeing The Devils for the first time, embarrassing grin and all.

The Devils is now streaming on the Criterion Channel.

Recommended reading:

Raising Hell: Ken Russell and the Unmaking of the Devils, by Richard Crouse