#Peel Contractor

[peelcontractor]

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[peelelectricial]

Peel Electricial Contractors is specialized in providing wide range of electrical services to residential, commercial and industrial clients. With 20 years of experience, Our workers provide you with a smooth service in an affordable range. Our friendly and professional staff is dedicated to understanding the unique needs of staffs and help them accordingly.

[alt-vera]

— text me, texas ⁀➷

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joel miller worries that the girl he’s been seeing is holding out on him on purpose. she definitely isn’t.

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♡ | joel miller | 1.5k | ❛ text me texas - chris young ❜

warnings: pre!outbreak joel miller. outdoor oral (m!receiving). praise. fond nicknames being used. deep throating. age gap. mdni.

❝ it’s breaking my heart and i’m starting to get the message… c’mon and text me, texas ❞

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JOEL MILLER COULDN’T KEEP HIS EYES OFF OF HIS PHONE.

　Whether he was working, or making breakfast for Sarah, his flip phone was always in his peripheral vision. He didn’t even know if it was intentional anymore.

　It’d been a week since he heard from you. A week since the two of you had gone on a nearly disastrous date. A week since he’d gotten a text from you reading, “Talk 2 U L8er, cowboy”

　Texas and Cowboy. You were the one who started the nicknames, jokingly calling him cowboy when he’d come into the ER for some stitches he’d earned during work. Joel knew he shouldn’t be hitting on the resident more than a decade younger than him patching him up, but he loved the way the corners of your eyes crinkled as he cracked a ludic joke, and the way the tip of your tongue peeked out of the corner of your mouth as you honed in on your work.

　This lead to him asking for your number as you discharged him, and you saying yes for a reason Joel couldn’t figure out. Of course, your residency schedule wouldn’t allow for a date right away, something that wouldn’t happen for another two weeks after your fateful meeting, but it did allow for an abundance of phone calls between the two of you.

　Something that had become so routine for Joel that, with their current absence, had caused him a week of fitful, sleepless nights. Missing his texas that wasn’t really from Texas.

　Even now, as he and Tommy shot the shit sitting on the back of Joel’s shoddy wooden porch, beers in hand and cicadas buzzing a backtrack for their conversation, he couldn’t help but steal glances at the folded black device sitting on the table between them.

　“Maybe she’d finally come to her senses,” Tommy suggested with a shit-eating grin as he took a sip from the glass bottle in his hands. “Realized she could do better than a dirty ol’ contractor.”

　“Don’t talk as if your shit don’t stink,” Joel replied gruffly, calloused hands picking at the peeling label of his beer. “You’re in the exact same boat as i am. How is Ashley, by the way?”

　“Fuckin’ a lawyer,” Tommy replied with a roll of his eyes, a much more forceful sip being taken now. “Hey, maybe that’s why she hasn’t called you. She’s fuckin’ her doctor-supervisor whatever it’s called.”

　“Or maybe she’s been too busy patchin’ up dumbasses like yourself.”

　Your voice cut through the summer air, stunning the two men as they turned around to look at you. You leant against the sliding glass door, tank top wrinkled from being in your locker all day and jean shorts hanging low around your hips. Your hair was wild from being thrown up all day, shining in the setting sun as a six pack hung loosely in your hand.

　“Texas,” Joel said weakly, stunned to see you there.

　“Cowboy, Ranger,” You greeted respectively, smiling as you moved to stand in front of the two as you put the pack on the table. “Glad to know you two still think about me when i’m not around.”

　“I’ll take that as my cue to leave,” Tommy mumbled, face ruddy from being caught shit-talking. He placed his empty bottle on the table, fishing out a new one from the pack you brought. “I’ll be drinking this one at home, Doc. Thank ya.”

　You gave him a two-fingered salute as he stalked off, taking his chair and popping the cap off your beer. Joel’s mouth hung agape before he snapped to his senses, hand running over his stubbly jaw.

　“Tommy, y’know, he was just bullshittin’,” Joel mumbled, eyes trained on you, looking for any sort of indication that you were pissed. “Y’know I don’t think you’d do something like that.”

　You laughed heartily, which put Joel somewhat at ease. He melted into his chair just a bit, taking a quick swig.

　“I know, cowboy,” You teased the nickname. Your shorts rode up a bit as you shifted, and Joel fought himself not to stare. “My attending’s been up my ass this week, sticking me in the ER til i ran out of ice packs and stitchin’ thread. That’s why i’ve been so M.I.A.”

　Joel ignored your addressing of your silence, instead quirking his lips up into a teasing grin. “Meet any patients as charming as i was?”

　“Nope,” You replied, taking a swig of your own. “No one can beat the one and only Joel Miller.”

　Joel angled his body more towards yours, “Is that why you took it out of your busy schedule to come see me?”

　“Actually,” You said, wrist twirling as you stretched your soreness, “I have tomorrow off, so i thought i’d pay my dear cowboy a visit, seeing as i left him in radio silence for the past week.”

　“Yeah, darlin’, you can’t do that to an ol’ man like me,” Joel sighed, tracing the wood of his chair. He was never good at being vulnerable. “Made me think you were off, i dunno…”

　You picked up where he trailed off. “Fucking my doctor-supervisor whatever?”

　Joel shook his head, crows feet prominent as he squinted. “No, just that maybe… there was someone else.”

　“If you ever can’t call,” He continued, “You can always text me. Even though i don’t know how to text back, you can always… text me, texas.”

　“Well maybe I can make it up to you…”

　A sly smile danced on your lips as you sank from your chair and onto the balmy wood of the porch, crawling between Joel’s already spread legs. Your fingers traced the pattern on his bet buckle, doe eyes moving to stare up at him. “Sarah’s sleeping over at a friend’s house, right?”

　“Yes,” Joel’s voice came out as a broken sigh. His fingers came up to trace your jawline, rough pads leaving tingles on your smooth skin. “Y’know you don’t have to make it up to me, texas.”

　Your head cocked. “But i want to.”

　Those four simple words made Joel practically fall apart at the seams.

　You felt him relax into his chair, which you took as a signal to continue. You delicately palmed him through his tightening jeans, a groan of satisfaction leaving his lips as you did so. More confident in your actions now that you knew he was enjoying himself, you unbuckled his belt and jeans, pressing kisses to his clothed member.

　Joel’s fingers danced through your hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail as you pulled down his boxers, cock springing up against his dark tee to meet the gentle summer breeze. You spit into your hand, stroking him before smoothly taking him into your mouth.

　Joel could stare at you all day, Texas sunset painting your skin with warm hues, your cheeks hallowed as you took him the best you could, hand stroking what you couldn’t. It took everything in him not to bust the moment you got on your knees in front of him.

　“That’s it, darlin’,” He cooed, thumb absentmindedly stroking your cheek as you took him deeper, throat bobbing against him as you tried not to choke. “Just like that.”

　You pulled away for a breath, and he leant down and kissed you. Your palm still stroking the head of his cock as his tongue swirled with yours. He could taste himself on your tongue, the tang of precum mixed with beer.

　You pulled out from the kiss, smiling as you turned your full attention back to his cock, your tongue sticking out of the corner of your mouth as you focused on making him cum, just as it did when you did his sutures.

　Your muscle tickled his slit as you took him once again in your mouth, wrapping around him as you continued to go down. He groaned, large hand putting gentle pressure on the back of your skull as he encouraged you to take him in farther.

　“You can do it, baby. You can take it all.”

　His encouragement spurred you further, nose coming to meet the wiry hairs at his base as he fully went down your throat. You sputtered around him, but he held you in place, hips bucking up into your mouth.

　“Fuck, darlin’, i’m cumming.”

　His warning came out broken as he moaned, hot seed travelling down your throat and leaking out the side of your mouth. You pulled off once he was milked, using your thumb to collect the fluid that escaped, licking it clean.

　You tucked him back into his boxers and laid your cheek on his jean covered thigh, smiling up at him with a lopsided grin as he fondly played with your hair, tucking it behind your ears and massaging your scalp.

　Joel couldn’t stop himself from grinning back, lips curling as he playfully rolled his eyes. “That was one hell of an apology, texas.”

[koshkamartell]

Chapter 2

chapter warnings: soft!Joel, pervy!Joel, coarse language, slut shaming, protective!Joel, alcohol consumption.

That following Sunday Joel comes over to repair your porch swing as agreed. It is a strange, almost surreal experience for him to be standing at your cottage once again, only this time in the daylight and with the purpose of offering a service. Your cottage looks even more dilapidated in the light of day with its peeling paint work and broken window shutters. Just how long have you lived here in these conditions?

The small garden in your yard, however, is as splendid as he imagined it would be; an array of different flowers of various colours flourish in two separate plant beds, their presence a pleasing visual reprieve from the otherwise barren environment around them. Although Joel knows very little about gardening, he can see that it would take a considerable amount of love and effort to cultivate such a display of blooms. Did you do this all yourself?

Joel stands outside your front door for a minute, willing the nerves buzzing throughout his limbs to subside. His hand flexes around the handle of his tool box, the handle feeling sticky against the rough skin of his palm. He's not quite sure why, but he's nervous to see you again. It's not like you're some muckety muck figurehead of the community or something - you're just a random woman that needs help with a piece of furniture. A totally innocent scenario with a seemingly unremarkable, normal woman.

He swallows the lump in his throat and summons the courage to rap the back of his knuckles against the wood of your door. When you open it to greet him, Joel is momentarily stunned by your appearance. He is able to absorb more details of your face now, like the small scar on your bottom lip and the long one above your left eyebrow, aswell as the striking colour of your eyes. Your hair hangs over your shoulder in a loose pony tail, showcasing the elegant slope of your neck. The two top buttons of your shirt are undone, allowing him to spy the swell of your cleavage hidden behind the material.

You aren't just a random, normal woman. You are a gorgeous, sensual creature that stands before him like a kind of sultry apparitation. Joel tries his damnest not to stare at you, to instead divert his gaze to his feet, but it is near impossible to when the honeyed enunciation of his name slips out from the pout of your lips. It makes his cock twitch in his jeans.

Get it together. You're here for a job, that's all.

He nods and greets you good morning. There is an air of awkwardness between you, the kind of pleasant yet reserved way people interact when they are not friends yet not exactly strangers. You offer Joel a polite smile but don't try to engage him in small talk, for which he is thankful. He feels self conscious around you, as though he will say or do something that will make himself look ridiculous.

He sighs with relief when you excuse yourself and disappear inside your house and leave him alone to focus on the job. There's no way in hell he would be able to concentrate on what he came to do with you lingering about. He sets his tool box on the porch and gets straight to work on the swing. He spends the next hour or so measuring the broken slats and going to the lumber yard to retrieve suitable wood for their replacement.

When Joel returns he saws them to the correct size and hammers the pieces to the frame of the swing. He's methodical in the way he carries out each task, the pedantic need to execute things perfectly carried over from his days as a contractor. He savours the times when he's immersed in an assignment, whether it be on patrol or working on construction projects around the commune; the preoccupation dulls the ever present gnawing grief that plagues his battered heart, and helps inspire him to endure and survive.

Some time during the afternoon, when Joel is nailing one of the slats back onto the bench, you potter out to the porch and check in with him. You ask if he needs anything to eat or drink, but Joel politely refuses. Even though his stomach rumbles and his throat is dry, Joel is too bashful to accept your offer and prefers to dedicate himself to finishing the job before doing anything else.

"No, thank you, ma'am," he mutters.

You go back inside the house and Joel continues hammering. A minute later you reappear carrying a little wooden tray with two sandwiches on a plate and a tall glass of lemonade sitting ontop.

"Joel," you interrupt him gently. "Please take a break and eat."

Joel's hand pauses midway between delivering a knock to one of the nails. His eyes trail up your jean clad legs and stop at the tray in your hands. He feels his tummy flip a somersault.

You made lunch for him?

The people of Jackson are generally well mannered and convivial, but no one has ever extended their hospitality in such a way to him before. No one has never been so considerate as to serve him food him like this. He gently drops his hammer by his feet and slowly rises from his kneeling position on the floor, his joints creaking.

With a triumphant smile blossoming across your face, you slink past him with the tray and crouch to deposit it on the top ledge of your porch steps. Joel watches your movements closely, his eyes wandering over the nape of your neck and down your spine to your ass. He wonders what you would smell and taste like if he were to worship your body with sloppy kisses and gentle bites. His tongue darts out to swipe over his bottom lip.

"Relax for a minute," you insist as you stand upright. Joel quickly swivels his head away from you and pretends to be preoccupied with scrutinising his handiwork.

"I have to go to the greenhouse to check on some seedlings." You say as you prance down the steps, your boots clunking on the wood with each tread. "But I'll be back soon."

"Okay," Joel mumbles, nodding his head but still not meeting your eye. You must work in the greenhouse, he guesses. It strikes Joel that he actually knows nothing about you aside from what Tommy had told him. You're a mystery, an enigmatic creature who he cannot quite understand why he's so drawn to. He waits a few moments before peeking back to see the back of your feminine figure sauntering down the street, the only sign of life that seems to be out and about in the ramshackle neighbourhood.

With you absent, Joel feels confident enough to finally take a break and let himself rest for a few minutes. He plops down on the step beside the lunch tray and expels a weary groan. God, he's feels so fucking old lately. He wonders how old you are. He guesses around 35, maybe a little younger. It's hard to tell, these days.

Joel all but wolfs down the lunch you made him. The sandwiches - some lettuce, cheese and a bit of turkey - are surprisingly delicious and fill the empty cavern in his stomach. He washes it down with the sweet, tangy lemonade before giving a small belch of satiation. It turns out that a bit of food and a cool drink is just what Joel needs; it revitalises him, giving him enough energy to finish off the last bit of restoring the backing of the swing.

By the time you return, an hour or so later, Joel has completed the job. You reach the cottage as he tugs on one of the chains connecting the seat to the porch roof, testing out its durability. Satisfied that it won't collapse, he packs his hammer and the remaining unused nails back into his tool box. He doesn't see you approach until you're already bounding up to the porch, a wide smile spread over your face.

"Holy shit," you exclaim. "You're already finished?"

Joel watches you make a beeline for the swing with your eyes wide and your mouth hanging open in awe. There is a smudge of dirt on one of your cheeks, he notices. You look young and girlish in this moment, like an excited kid marvelling at a new toy. You're cute. Joel has to suppress his own small smile of amusement.

Your hand trails reverently along one of the arm rests and up along the top back slat. "Wow," you whisper in wonderment. "Incredible."

"Needs a coat of paint," Joel interrupts. "Then she'll be perfect."

You shift your eyes away from the swing to lock eyes with Joel. You shake your head gently. "It's already perfect, Joel," you say earnestly. "Thank you."

Your expression is so sincere, your face so fucking beautiful, that Joel feels his stomach suddenly somersault once again. He clears his throat and glances down at his boots.

"Welcome," he mumbles.

You appraise Joel's handiwork for another minute before sitting down on the seat. You push yourself to rock back and forth a few times, giggling with delight when the swing picks up some momentum. Your pleasure is infectious, it seems; Joel huffs a quiet chuckle while he observes you.

His heart blooms with pride to witness the happiness the fruit of his labour has given you. It makes him want to do more for you, to give you more reasons to beam that sweet smile of yours. Aside from Ellie you're the only person who has evoked such an inclination from him; it is a startling realisation considering he usually didn't give a shit about anyone else's pursuit of happiness.

He needs another reason to meet with you again.

"Them shutters don't look too good," Joel motions to the deteriorated panels that hang against your windows like limp cobwebs. "Ain't gonna last the rain through next winter."

You sigh and cast a glance at the window closest to your shoulder. "I guess you're right. I did ask Tommy if I could get them fixed, but what was a while ago."

Joel's ears perk up at the mention of his brother. "You did? Why aren't they fixed then?"

"I don't know, I guess he just forgot," you dismiss with a shrug. "He's pretty busy running other things in the community, I didn't want to bother him with something like this." You lean back and reach over to lightly trace the edge of one of the shutter frames with a fingertip. "It doesn't bother me that much."

Joel puts his hands on his hips and narrows his gaze at you, his jaw ticking. He isn't completely sure if you are telling him the truth. Are you really so unbothered by how much of your property seems to be falling apart around you? There's no way he would let Ellie live in such a place. There's no way he can leave you today knowing there's more he can do for you.

"I'm comin' back next week to fix these up," Joel declares, sounding more gruff than he intends to. "Before the damn things fall off."

You grin at him and stand up from the seat. "Okay, but only if we make a deal. I gotta do something in return for you."

"You made me--"

You quickly hold up your hand. "Making you lunch isn't enough. I want to do something for you. I'm not a freeloader, I can pull my own weight. Please, Joel."

There is a cutting edge of conviction in your pointed gaze and the tone of your voice. You are determined to prove yourself. It reminds him of the night you met, when you were pissed at him during that misunderstanding. He chews on his bottom lip as he thinks. He would be glad to give you an opportunity to prove yourself, if it is that important to you, but he's just not the kind of person to insist on quid pro quo, tit for tat.

What could you possibly do for him, anyway?

The dubiety must be clear on his face because you eagerly start listing the different things you have to offer him.

"I can tidy your yard, plant some things I'm your garden. Do your dishes. Your laundry. Fuck, I don't know. Sew your clothes."

Joel's eyebrow raises in piqued curiosity. "Y'know how to sew?"

"Yes, sir," you nod solemnly. "My mother taught me when I was a kid. I can stitch whatever you need."

He can't hide how impressed he is. Skills such as sewing are invaluable in these times. He hums and scratches his chin while he considers your offer, his fingernails creating a rasping sound as they pass over his whiskers.

"Well, my favourite jacket does have a hole in it," he murmers.

"Done," you grin at him. "Bring it with you next week."

Joel huffs a laugh and agrees, shaking your hand when you offer it to him. He tries to ignore the little jolt of electricity he feels when his large, rough hand clutches your smaller, much soft one.

He returns the following weekend and repairs the shutters while you sit on the swing and diligently stitch his jacket. The scene is domestic and comfortable. You chat together as you both work on your individual tasks, occasionally falling into stretches of congenial silence when either of you need to concentrate.

Around lunch time you insist Joel comes inside the cottage to eat with you. He acquiseces and follows you through the front door, unable to help look at the shape of your ass when you walk in front of him. He wonders what you'd look like underneath your clothes, how soft and supple your body would be, how hypnotising your ass would look bouncing as he pounds into you doggy style.

Fucking quit it.

You lead Joel to a humble little dining table beside your kitchen. He takes a seat and looks around, absorbing the details of your dwelling. It's a small place but suitable for a single person like yourself. A little glass vase of posies sit in the middle the kitchen bench. The walls are painted in a pale shade of lemon, the pleasant hue highlighted by the sun shining through the delicate lace curtains that frame your kitchen window.

There is a small oil painting hanging on the wall beside him. It's a still life of a bowl of fruit, and while Joel has never been a conscious admirer of art, he can appreciate the intricacy of the shading and detail within the painting. He studies it while you prepare the sandwiches and cups of tea.

At the bottom of the canvas is written: "to Honey, love J."

"Whose Honey?" Joel wonders aloud, squinting at the handwritten words.

"Me," you answer simply. He looks over to you and raises an eyebrow inquisitively.

"That some kinda nickname?"

"'S what some folks call me." You reply simply.

Joel watches you as you slice into a ripe tomato. You stare down at the chopping board as you slowly work the knife up and down, granting him a brief opportunity to drink in the sight of your face; you look particularly pretty today, he thinks, especially with the golden glow of the sun pouring over you. A lock of hair falls from behind your ear and dangles over your forehead and he fights the impulse to tuck it away.

"Why do some folks call you Honey?" Joel asks.

The corner of your mouth quirks into half a smile, but your head remains bowed as you stay focused on cutting the tomato. "Well, when I first came here I was assigned work duty in the nursery. Jan was the person I worked with. We got along well. She taught me so much. Because of her I was able to grow those flowers in my garden myself, all from seeds. Anyway, I loved the flowers, they were my favourite."

Joel watches you closely, analysing the features of your beautiful face as you speak, the way your eyes warm with affection at the memory you recollect. He loves seeing you like this.

"She used to laugh at me, the way I'd hover around the flowers, like a honey bee." You chuckle softly, shaking your head with fondness. "So she started calling me Honey, and I guess it just stuck."

It's sweet. It suits you perfectly. The bitesized insight into your private life excites Joel. It is as though he has attained the first piece of the puzzle that is your identity, the individual you truly are.

"Jan painted me that," you look up now and motion with your chin toward the canvas that hangs beside him. "About a year before she passed. I miss her everyday, but seeing that makes me happy. Like I have a little piece of her with me."

Joel listens attentively as you recount some of the escapades you and Jan got up to at the greenhouse. He laughs along with you when you tell him about the time you tripped and fell face first into a pile of horse shit. He shakes his head with feigned disapproval as you describe a prank you pulled on Jan in retaliation for her scaring you with a fake spider.

You're funny, it turns out. And a hell of a story teller. By the end of the day Joel has talked and laughed more in the one afternoon than he has in all his time living in Jackson. He goes to bed that night with a silly little grin on his face.

The exchange of services and food continues over the next few weeks. He fixes the leaking pipe in laundry next and in turn you thank him by baking him blueberry muffins, which he thinks is just about the most delicious thing he has ever eaten. He finds your gestures of gratitude touching, even though he rarely enjoys receiving praise from anyone.

There's something about your personality that makes Joel feel at ease. He senses no judgement or condescension in the way you talk and behave with him, unlike the times he's conversed with other townsfolk. There are no airs and graces with you, and while you seem a little shy at times, you certainly aren't timid. While you like discussing subjects that interest you, you aren't an incessant chatterbox. He appreciates that you don't talk for the sake of talking, that you seem to enjoy contented silence.

The friendship between you and Joel blossoms over the course of the following months. You spend a few hours together every couple of weeks, either at your cottage or at Joel's house. He enjoys finding things to fix for you, jobs that keep his hands busy and help temper his nerves. You seem to understand this about Joel, his need to provide and service, and you never deny assigning him something to do, no matter how small.

Joel isn't sure just how you feel about him, but you always look pleased to see him, always greeting him with a warm smile. Joel himself secretly relishes the time you spend together, that ever present invisible string luring him to you, making him want to spend more and more of his free time with you.

The friendship between you and Joel goes unnoticed by anyone else. You don't socialise much, it seems, as no one is ever at your cottage when Joel stops by. He occasionally spots you at the dining hall eating with one or two other women who he surmises are your work friends. You spend your days on duty at the greenhouse and planting crops. He knows you go to the Tipsy Bison for a drink, although it seems to be a rare occurance. He's come to realise that you are alot alike himself - favouring your own company to superficial friendships, not overly gregarious, preferring to keep your head down and contribute to the community with humility rather than big noting yourself. He appreciates you for that. He respects you.

In fact, Joel has come to really like you.

It's why he hasn't mentioned you to anyone but Ellie. She's met you a few times now, and Joel is pleased to see that you two get along well. But aside from Ellie, Joel is hesitant to divulge your friendship to anyone else, especially Tommy. Unfortunately for Joel, the inevitable comes one autumn afternoon when you show up on his doorstep with a plate of cookies in hand. He wasn't expecting you but welcomes the surprise, always privately thrilled to lay his eyes on your pretty face. He even forgets that Tommy is supposed to be coming over to discuss the new patrol roster.

He's standing on the threshold on his doorstep, captivated by you recounting the events of your morning baking marathon, when Tommy arrives. Joel catches sight of his brother in his peripheral vision and a rush of dread and annoyance swoop over his heart.

Fuck.

"Hello little lady," Tommy greets you as he ascends the porch steps to Joel's front door. His dark brown eyes throw a furtive glance of curiousity to Joel before settling back on you. He smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "What ya got there?" He tips his head toward the plate in your hands.

"Hey Tommy," you smile. "Oh, just some muffins, a few cookies." You look back at Joel and grin. "I'm trying out that apple and oat recipe from that book I told you about. Thought it was only right that you were the first to taste test."

Ofcourse you did. You are always so goddamn kind.

"Thanks, Honey," Joel murmers as he accepts the plate you eagerly extend to him. He wishes he could be more jovial and express just how appreciative he is, but it's impossible with Tommy there. The weight of Tommy's unspoken scrutiny rests uncomfortably over Joel's head, like a storm cloud threatening to unleash a torrential downpour.

Thankfully you don't linger. You excuse yourself and bid them goodbye, flashing one last dazzling smile before leaving to go check on the greenhouse.

"Well, I'll be damned," Tommy grins smugly as the two men enter into Joel's house. "You and Honey huh?"

Ribbing and teasing from his little brother was always going to be inevitable, but for some reason, when it comes to you, Joel finds it bothers him more than he anticipated. His jaw clenches momentarily. He needs to try keep his cool.

"Me and her what?" Joel grunts. "We're just friends."

They make their way into the kitchen, where Joel sets the plate down on the counter. The sugary scent from the baked goods wafts up to his nostrils and makes his stomach grumble.

"Hey, I got friends," Tommy sniggers. "None of 'em bake cookies for me." He plucks one of the cookies from the plate and takes a bite. "Ya fuckin' her?"

"Goddamnit, Tommy," Joel snarls suddenly. "No. It ain't like that."

"So what's it like, then?" Tommy questions through a mouthful of cookie. "Why is she playin' Betty Crocker with an grumpy old asshole like you?"

"I've been helpin' repair stuff around her place. It's just how she says thanks." Joel shoots back defensively. Tommy shrugs and shoves the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

"Ya know, I got a bone to pick with you," Joel crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at Tommy. Now is the perfect opportunity for him to bring up the issues he has been meaning to for weeks. "Why did she get stuck livin' in that place?"

Tommy frowns and leans his lower back against the kitchen counter. "What do you mean?"

"Her house. It's fallin' into disrepair, Tommy."

Tommy hums and smooths his moustache with the pads of his thumb and forefinger. He seems to consider it for a few moments before shrugging nonchalantly. "It ain't that bad."

"It is, as a matter of fact," Joel retorts sharply. "It's unacceptable, actually."

"What do you want me to do about it, Joel?" Tommy bites back. There is a hint of irritation lacing his tone, an inflection that seems uncharacteristic of Tommy's usually benevolent personality.

Joel throws his hands up, exasperated. "You're on the damn committee, you gotta say in this kinda stuff. She should be livin' somewhere where the drain pipes aren't busted and need fixin' every week."

"So that's what you been doin' all this time, huh?" Tommy sniggers. "Fixin' her pipes?"

Joel rolls his eyes and shoots Tommy with an unimpressed glare. "That's enough. Just move her to a better house."

Tommy's playful demeanour quickly morphs into an exasperated scowl. "You know we gotta put families first, Joel. There just ain't anythin' available right now."

Joel scoffs and shakes his head. "Just promise me you'll do what you can, Tom. As a favour to me."

Tommy nods his agreement, his jaw set square and firm. They spend the rest of the afternoon avoiding any further discussion of you.

Your visits to each other's homes become a ritual of sorts. On those quiet afternoons you keep Joel company, sipping tea as you watch him saw and hammer and tinker. You share conversation, asking each other questions and sharing titbits of information about your lives both now and before the end of the world. He learns that you were a teenager when the outbreak began and had lost all your family within the first two weeks. You spent the years travelling around the state with a few different groups of survivors, narrowly managing to avoid raiders or being rounded up into a QZ.

You had met your defacto husband, Michael, when you joined his ragtag band of men and women. After eight years of living in the harsh wilderness the group had dwindled down to just you and he. You eventually stumbled upon Jackson, both of you malnourished and suffering various ailments and injuries. It was only two weeks after arriving that your husband succumbed to the pneumonia that plagued his lungs.

You gloss over this part of your life story with few details, but Joel can recognise the glimpse of sorrow in your eyes and in the tiny hitch in your voice. He can see your pain runs deep but he still can't help wondering why you haven't found someone to shack up with in Jackson.

Joel thinks back to that night he first met you, how you left the bar in tears. He still occasionally wondered about just what happened but hadn't asked, not wanting to pry and potentially offend the fragile friendship that had become quite precious to him.

He finds the right opportunity to sate his curiousity one cool autumn evening. You had invited Joel over for dinner that night, and some time after dessert you and he sat on the porch swing side by side, each nursing a bottle of beer. You sit contentedly with a knitted blanket over your legs and watch as a light breeze dances through the quiet street and swirls the crunchy fallen leaves around the sidewalk. Joel leans back into the swing and rests a hand on his belly.

"'M gettin' fatter with all your delicious cookin'," he mutters good naturedly.

You chuckle and push your toes against the porch to give the seat a gentle sway back and forth. "Think it'll be strong enough to hold us both?"

"Told ya I'd fix it that night we met," Joel counters matter of factly. "And I don't do things half assed."

You raise your bottle slightly and tip it to him in salute. "You're right. Maybe I should be thanking that asshole from the bar. Probably would have never met if it wasn't for him - I wouldn't be sitting in this perfectly crafted swing, either."

You jest, giggling to yourself, but Joel goes quiet and pensive. You notice his change in mood immediately and give him a gently nudge with your shoulder.

"Hey, what are you thinking?"

"That night we met," he begins tentatively, turning his head to look at you. "Who was that guy? What did he say to you?"

Your brows furrow with a contemplative solemnity and you chew on your bottom lip for a moment. Joel watches you intently as he patiently waits.

"He was just some guy," you eventually reply. "I don't really know him, but I know one of his friends."

Joel nods slightly to indicate he's listening to you. You glance up at him and sigh, shaking your head.

"Kinda a long story. You really wanna hear it?"

"Got all the time in the world, Honey," Joel says earnestly. All the time in the world for you.

You smile back at him and have a sip from your bottle. "Here goes. So, a while after I first got here, I started drinking alot. I just wanted to numb the pain, you know?"

Joel hums lowly. He knows that feeling all too well. His own experience of abusing whatever alcohol and pills he could get his hands on back in the QZ, whatever destructive thing he could do to drown out the incessant agony from the loss he had endured. Although Joel was able to better manage his grief now days he still experienced times of loneliness, nights where he yearned for comforting arms wrapped around him, for someone to talk about his day with.

"I missed Michael so much. I really needed someone to just hold me and let me cry," you confess softly. "But who could I go to? I didn't really know anyone here. I wasn't ready to open up and trust anyone, anyway."

You stretch out your legs and wriggle underneath the blanket to get a little more comfortable. Joel waits for you to continue your story, trying his best to ignore the twitching urge to inch his hand closer to yours and slip his fingers inbetween yours.

"So, one night I got drunk off some god awful cocktail mix at the Bison. Some guy had been trying to chat to me but I kinda ignored him, wasn't really interested. You know Greg, Tommy's friend?"

Joel frowns. "The guy that works in the stables?"

You nod. "Yeah, well, he was the guy. Kept ordering me more drinks to get me to talk, acting all charming. Anyway, by midnight I'm pretty drunk."

Joel's hand curls into a fist and his jaw ticks. The thought of you intoxicated in a bar with some creep trying to chat you up makes him agitated. Although he doesn't really know Greg, Joel instantly decides to hate him from this point on.

"Okay," Joel murmers to indicate he is listening. He doesn't like the sound of what may come next in your story but he is eager to find out.

"When I get up to leave he's right next to me acting like a gentleman, holding me up and opening the door for me. And he walked me home."

Joel wants to punch Greg's fucking face in.

"The sex wasn't anything amazing. But I remember my mind going blank. I wasn't in pain. I wasn't thinking. No memories, no sadness. Just the weight of someone else on me."

Your voice catches slightly at the last few words, and Joel feels his heart ache with the need to comfort you, to sling his arm around you and pull you close. He's in awe of your vulnerability and rawness in this moment, how unashamedly you bare your history and emotions to him. You look down at the bottle in your hand as you speak, idly toying with the lip of its opening. Are you nervous to talk about this with him?

"I went into a downward spiral for a while. I slept with a few people. I couldn't handle a relationship. I needed to feel someone close to me. It was a way of getting that closeness, you know? Without the fear of them leaving."

"Anyway, Greg was an asshole and told his buddies about what we did. And that guy at the Bison that night, he was one of 'em. Thought I'd fuck him if he acted all smooth." You roll your eyes and scoff. "When I rejected him he started saying really mean stuff just to hurt me."

"Fuckin' prick," Joel growls, his hand flexing to grip the neck of his bottle tightly.

"I'm not denying what I did. It was my way of coping at that time and I'm not ashamed of it. We all have shit we have to live with, and I was just doing what I could to get through it." You lean your head back against the swing and sigh softly.

Joel understands precisely what you mean. He wishes he could express just how well he *does* understand. He's committed so many deplorable acts of violence throughout this nightmarish apocalypse - some in the name of survival, others without true justification. He has always been able to suppress the tormenting memories in his day to day life but they haunt his subconscious, waiting until night time to rain an onslaught of bad dreams upon him, causing him to wake suddenly with his heart pounding and his brow drenched with sweat.

You take a swig from your bottle and quietly add, "But people talk, Joel. And they can be so cruel."

Joel stares down at his lap, his jaw ticking. He isn't sure what to say in response. He knows first hand how cruel people can be, how vicious the judgemental gossiping can be. But he feels ashamed and guilty; his own brother was one of those people who talked about you, and his own first impression of you was less than virtuous. He hates himself for how dishonourable his thoughts were.

"I told you because I trust you, Joel. And because I know you won't judge me." You whisper, your voice cracking just the tiniest bit.

Joel's heart skips a beat when your hand slips out from the blanket and crawls over his jean clad knee. He takes a moment to recover from the shock when you find his hand and thread your fingers through his thick digits and squeeze gently. That same extraordinary electric sensation buzzes between you once more. He exhales a deep breath through his nostrils and carefully squeezes your delicate hand back.

It's right at that moment in time that Joel makes a promise to himself to always protect you.

[desultory-novice]

I recently found out that “weekend Susie” is a mistranslation and it’s actually called “susie on vacation” in jpn. I’m pretty sure she’s supposed to be Susie in the future like Manager Magolor..any ideas on why shes missing her hairclip and the “Secretary” title she always has in jpn? Susie is so hard to figure out..like how she only smiles three times in the entirety of robobot (once when she takes the program controller and twice when singing the noble haltmann but ONLY when saying the words father in jpn) so I’m curious on what your thoughts are on her (and unfortunately has the worst localization ever…i had to look at the robobot translations from @/kaialone on tumblr) sorry for rambling but shes so interesting to me and it’s a bit sad seeing how a lot of the details she has in characterization never get talked about

Anon...Did you somehow know I've been replaying Robobot in Japanese?! And it's basically strengthened my confirmation that some people - though less than before - are a bit too harsh and/or restrictive in their takes on both Susie and her father. 

That said, I do I try to give people room to "safely hate" these fictional characters as, for a lot of people, it may be one of their only ways of processing a gross problem that affects the real world/so much of history that they can't do much about.

But I love the silly/tragic Haltmann family. I'm sympathetic and even semi-defensive towards 'em. Which is why I'm happy to answer any good faith Haltmann asks.

Ahem! Also, before I get into it, I wanted to say that technically "Weekend Susie" vs "Susie on Vacation" is not a mistranslation per se.

What it IS is a localization.

休日 can mean "vacation," yes. When you break down the kanji, literally it is made up of the words "rest day." So it can also be just about any day when you're not working/not at school/not busy.

For most of western civilization (not me because I'm a contractor XD ) the weekends are people's "rest days." To read 休日 as "weekend" might not even be that much of a stretch/localization!

Probably explains the lack of "secretary" title. She's literally not on the clock! As for the hairclip, who can say...? Similar reasons? I know in Susie's case, it's sentimental, though hairpins in Japan often have this association with studiousness/"time to get serious" so removing it is an easy indicator "She's allowing herself time to be silly!"

I do like to imagine that this is a post-canon Susie though. That girl deserves something nice after her trauma...

Anyway, reminder that post-FL, the localizers have been working more closely with the Japanese team to create a more accurate translation for us. I know the wounds from PR's rough translation (and SA's fast-and-loose in weird places one) still hurt, oof, but the Kirby series is getting better about its translations!!

Actually... you know... there's not THAT many cutscenes...

Maybe I will make my own "If they'd hired Dess to translate Planet Robobot" translation of the game? I've already threatened several times to do a full translation of "The Noble Haltmann" with all references/metaphors intact...

But yes! Speaking of how Susie uses her emotions, I was so moved by something in her first meeting with Kirby, I actually wrote about it! And I'm going to share it here, because you might find it interesting~

-

So, I had my eyes peeled for any interesting bits of characterization left behind on the cutting room floor. Immediately, I was amused by how politely Susie talks to Kirby in the beginning. She doesn't really "talk down to him" or insult his intelligence in the slightest. (One could argue that it's a false business politeness, of course. Although she only breaks that in like, the second to last cutscene) Any dismissal of him feels very "company-mandated." (And the company is run by a murderous computer but leaving that aside...)

She gently praises how beautiful the water and the air on this planet is and that's when something... starts to change in her...

Susie gets impossibly sad. And her attitude changes COMPLETELY.

I stopped for a second reading this. "Hold on. What? Why does she lose her cool HERE? Is this some indication that the place she and her dad used to live on was a really poor planet without clean air and drinking water?" And heck, maybe that is the case!

But something else struck me about her line:

"...You don't even know the value of what you have..."

It's not the snooty we-know-better-than-you "misappropriation of resources" that is triggering her. It is having something precious right next to you and you don't even recognize it.

It's about her dad. Right from the beginning.

She can't NOT talk about it. It affects all her actions. Maybe another reason while I feel like it's better to judge Susie on a whole than any one individual action she takes, because (like Magolor, oops oops oops) she is masking her intentions alllll the time.

Also, omg, I know some people are still sensitive about the Mechaknight thing but that is PEAK grim humor in Japanese! It is treated way too cold and business-like in English, imo.

In Japanese, she starts to describe him exactly like she's telling her bestie that she just met the man of her dreams and then the WHAM line: "So, I gave him a full-body modification!"

Yes, it's unhinged. But it's also wonderful. (She's so Eggman-core.)

[geralt-of-baevia]

Call It What You Want: Chapter Two

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine

pairing: nobreakout!joel x f!ofc (Violet Fletcher)

rating: explicit, MDNI 18+

word count: 1.9k (small but mighty! the next one is much longer)

summary: Seeking solace from a painful breakup, Violet relocates to a tranquil town, purchasing a neglected house to renovate. In her new neighborhood, she befriends Harlow, who introduces her to Joel, a gruff and seasoned contractor with a heart of gold. Despite Joel's initial grumpiness, Violet finds herself drawn to his expertise and hidden kindness.

As Violet immerses herself in home renovations alongside Joel, their dynamic begins to shift, with Joel unexpectedly opening himself up to the possibility of love. Their budding relationship faces challenges as shadows from their pasts emerge, testing their newfound connection.

warnings/tags: literally just some good ol' fluff. it's a slow burn, what can I say?

a/n: hi guys! i hope y'all liked the first chapter. this chapter is a short one, but don't worry! the next one is much longer and event filled muahahahah.

A few days had passed after Joel fixed my door and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I tried to get him out of my head by making an apple pie, something I could just focus on throwing myself into. But flashes of his face and his arms kept interrupting me. He had ended up staying until dinner time fixing my front door. I helped him occasionally, holding a nail or a board for him. I admired his determination and how hard of a worker he was. 

There was no way in hell I could have done what he did, or at least nowhere as easily. It was making me start to doubt my ability to redo this house on my own. Maybe it was a stupid idea like my ex had said. 

I tried to shake the thought from my head. I put the finishing touches on the pie before placing it in the oven and setting the kitchen timer. 

A knock at the door made me jump, thankful it happened after I had put the pie in the oven. That was a mess I didn’t want to clean. 

I lazily made my way to the door, not in any rush to see what someone was potentially going to be selling me. To my surprise, Joel was standing on the porch, his hands in his pockets. An uncontrollable grin spread across my lips, causing my cheeks to instantly ache.

“Hi Joel,” I said, trying to contain my smile.

“Hiya Violet. I was hopin’ you were home,” he said nervously with a smirk.

“How can I help you?” 

“I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by to see how the door was holding up,” he said. I looked the door up and down. 

“It looks like it’s holding up well,” I said sarcastically. He looked at me blankly for a moment before cracking a grin at my stupid joke.

“Would you like to come in?” I asked, opening the door wider for him. He nodded happily and walked past me into the house. I shut the door and led him to the kitchen. My eyes winced at the mess. Dirty bowls, flour, and apple peels were scattered all over the kitchen table. 

“Sorry about the mess,” I told him, grabbing a bowl and taking it over to the sink. 

“It looks like you made an apple pie or somethin’,” he said. I watched Joel pick up a few things from the mess and walk them over to me at the sink. My heart fluttered. 

“Well, it’s your lucky day, sir,” I said I with a smile. I couldn’t help but notice his mouth twitch when I called him that, but I decided to keep that information tucked away in the back of my mind. 

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm. Go open the oven.”

As I started to run the water, he went over to the oven and opened it a crack. A small smile formed on his face. I left my spot at the sink and continued to clean off the table.

“Is that an actual goddamned apple pie?” he said in disbelief, letting out a scoff and looking over to me. I nodded. 

“It is. I had some leftover pie dough in the fridge and some apples so I figured, what the heck?” 

“I’ve never known anyone who has just made an apple pie on a whim and it look that good,” he said, giving the pie one last look before closing the door. 

“Well then you must not know many pastry chefs,” I said with a shrug. He scoffed out a sigh, putting his hands on his hips. 

“Are you really a pastry chef?”  

“I am. I used to have my own little bakery and everything,” I told him. I finished cleaning the bowl I was working on and set it in the strainer, leaving the rest for later. 

“What was it called?” 

“La Petite Patisserie,” I told him, trying to hide the ache I felt saying its name. I loved that place. It was my absolute pride and joy. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you have it anymore?” he asked gently. 

I sighed. “I sold it and bought this house instead. The property I had was prime real estate, so I sold it for a good lot. I was able to buy this house and still have money left over to fix it up,” I told him. 

“What made you want to buy a house like this?” he asked, “one you have to fix up that is?”

I shrugged. “I wanted to make this house my own and do it myself. I’d always dreamed of doing so and enough people told me I couldn’t. So I finally did it and said fuck you to those people,” I said, uncomfortable pride swelling in my chest. Joel gave me an approving smirk. 

“Well, good for you.”

“Do you want a tour of the house while we wait for the pie to bake? It’ll be at least 45 minutes,” I said to him. He raised his eyebrows in confusion. “I figured you’d want to stay until the pie was done and you could have some.”

Joel’s face lit up. 

“I’d love to.”

The tour of the house took about forty minutes altogether. In every room we went in Joel would look around, seeing the condition of the ‘bones’ of the house. He told me I had lucked out and this house was in very good condition. We joked about the colors, or lack thereof, in most of the rooms. The bathroom was the worst of them all. A weird split two-toned teal color. 

“That’s just not easy on the eyes,” Joel said, cocking his head as he looked into the bathroom. I giggled. 

“I know. I think this is the first bathroom I’m going to paint,” I said with a wince. Joel walked over and had a lookover of the clawfoot tub that sat in the corner of the room. He glanced up and pointed at the makeshift three-sided shower I currently curtain up, giving me a questioning look. 

“Look, okay I couldn’t find a rounded shower curtain holder, and honestly I don’t trust myself to put it up without falling on me in the middle of my shower,” I stated, crossing my arms and leaning against the doorframe. 

“I can do it for you, it’s not too hard. I’ve put up quite a few of them in old houses like this,” he said nonchalantly. I felt myself start to blush again. 

“That’s very kind of you, but please let me pay you this time for your help.”

“We’ll figure something out,” he said, and I could swear to god he gave me a small wink. 

The alarm on my phone went off. A wide, elated smile spread across Joel’s face. 

“Is the pie done?”

I nodded with a matching smile. 

We both rushed downstairs to the kitchen. I put on my mitts, opened the oven, and was immediately hit with apple cinnamon steam. After I got my vision back, a gorgeous apple pie sat there on the middle rack. I pulled it out and set it down on top of the stove for the time being, then I closed the oven and turned it off.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Joel asked. The butterflies in my chest began to flutter again. 

“Um, over there on the wall are some trivets. Will you pick one out?” I asked, nodding to the wall next to the fridge behind him. He turned around to see what I was talking about and went over to get one. As he did that, I went over to the window I had crawled through yesterday. “Will you put it down there in front of the window?” 

I went and got the apple pie and as I made it to the window, Joel met me with the trivet. He had picked out one that had two chickens on it and was surrounded by ornate ironwork. 

“Holy shit, Violet,” he said as I sat the pie down. 

“What?”

“That pie looks incredible. Like, it’s almost too nice to eat,” he said with a chuckle, proud of his small compliment. 

“Well, we’ve got about 20 minutes before we can eat it. Would you like some coffee?” I asked. He nodded. 

“Oh yes. I could have coffee at any time,” he said happily. I giggled to myself, still stuck on him not being the grump he was cautioned to be. “What?”

I shook my head. “It’s nothing don’t worry.”

“No, what? I’m not gonna be able to stop thinkin’ about it. You want that on your conscious?” he asked jokingly. I rolled my eyes playfully. 

“It's just that I was warned that you were a curmudgeon of a person. And so far you’ve been nothing but kind to me,” I stated, my cheeks flushing again. He put a hand to his brow and shook his head, a little embarrassed. I tried my best to ignore it and continue preparing coffee.

“I’m assuming Harles is the one who said that?” he asked, looking up at me between his fingers. 

“She is indeed,” I responded. He shook his head again. 

“I mean, she’s not wrong. But maybe blown a little out of proportion,” he said. 

“We’ll see about that.” 

After about a half hour I cut into the pie, gave us each a slice, and set the plates down next to each of our coffee cups at the table. Joel cut into the piece hastily, shoving a giant bite into his mouth. I took a drink of my coffee as he chewed, and his face softened into a stupid happy smile. My eyes widened as he quickly cut another piece with his fork and shoved it into his mouth before he was even done swallowing the first bite.

“Are you breathing, Joel?” I asked with an airy giggle. He looked up at me from his plate and smiled. 

“Violet,” he started, his mouth still full of pie, “this is the best pie I’ve ever had. Does all of your baking taste like this?” He looked down lovingly at the pie.

“Actually, it does. There’s a reason I had a bakery,” I said, “but I will have to say this is a first for me, seeing someone eye fuck a piece of my pie.” 

Joel about choked on his mouthful as he swallowed it, causing me to giggle a little at his reaction. He coughed for a second but drank his coffee to wash it down. 

“Okay Violet, here’s the deal. I don't need any extra money. I make what I need, I live comfortably. So, let’s do this,” he said, placing his fork down on his plate with a clang, “You buy the materials for what needs to be done, and I’ll do the work. The trade-off is you make me food and baked goods. I’m not much of a cook myself, so I’d much rather be fed incredibly good food than get paid. How does that sound?”

“That sounds like you got yourself a deal, Joel.”

[bomberqueen17]

great great great

It's all going great, it is. I'm frazzled for no real reason. But it's going.

Wednesday it snowed and the contractors showed up later than they meant to; it was almost 9 when the van pulled in to the neighbor's driveway and I opened my front door and said "over here man" and the guy was like "ah whoops there's the house number" and we laughed.

Description and photos behind the cut, this got long, but anyway this is why I dont' have a chapter ready to go this week either >.>

The demolition crew was two guys, a white dude about five feet five named Andrew with a piercing voice and impeccable manners, and a taller quiet Black dude named Dave. They put plastic sheeting over the doors out of the kitchen and proceeded to just wreak mayhem in there. The "installer", who I assume is kind of a project lead from the way everyone talked about him, wasn't present, he was tying up loose ends on a previous job. ("We had a third party doing vinyl and they just walked out and didn't finish it," Andrew told Dave. "I thought we didn't use third parties," Dave mused. "Yeah," Andrew said, "well that's why we don't." I loved how sharp Andrew's voice was because I could eavesdrop even over all the crashing noises.)

Andrew never swore in my presence but again, piercing voice, so I heard him explain to Dave, "I fucked myself over on these jobs tho, one of the early ones for this company I had extra time and they were like keep yourself busy somehow so we can pay ya, and I was like okay and I went through and I pulled all the staples and left the place so clean and nice, and now they expect me to do that every time. But it means I always get the job, the installers request me, because I'm gonna pull all the staples." I have no idea what was stapled, but I do believe him, because Dave was like "okay okay I'll pull the staples" and then I never saw any staples.

He was done by about 3:30 pm, to his own surprise. "Thought we'd need another half day, especially with the late start I got, on the road for an hour like that," he said (he was commuting up from the snow belt, and while our area had gotten three inches, they'd gotten over a foot down there, and nobody was handling it well on the roads.) "I didn't work slow, but I took my time, but everything came off so clean I'm all set here and it's done."

[image description: My kitchen before work started. Yellow linoleum floor in poor condition, brown wood cabinets, white and yellow linoleum countertops on a little L-shaped area, and a half-wall dividing the room partially so it's a tiny kitchen and a tiny dinette.]

[image: the work in progress, from the other door of the kitchen. The half-wall of the leg of the L is still visible as framing. The linoleum is gone, peeled back to wooden subflooring. The plaster walls are gone, down to the bare studs. The electric fixtures are hanging from the ceiling. in the foreground, Andrew is leaning on a four-foot stepladder, on his phone; in the background, Dave is in a fluorescent yellow hoodie on his knees on the floor scraping up the remnants of the linoleum underlayment.]

There is not a scrap of insulation in those walls. I asked Andrew and he laughed and was like "usually there isn't, in houses like this one".

When he left the half-wall frame was gone, and all of it was hauled out to a dump trailer in the driveway, neatly stowed, and the room was immaculate.

[image: an empty room with bare wall studs. The new windows are white frames. You can see the sink pipe, and the drainpipe vent going up toward the roof, jogged around the window. You can also see, under the bay window, the reinforced framing in the wall to support the original, much smaller picture window that used to be there.]

So that was day one. Day two, The Installer showed up. A fiftysomething moustachioed man named Jim, with the soft-spoken sort of mumbly variant of the local dialect that Dude's dad spoke too-- I had forgotten, Hap (yes dude's dad's name was really Hap) died twenty years ago now, but I did know him-- he did this kind of work, too-- anyway, Jim was more reserved than Andrew, but I made a point of greeting him, and made a point of mildly swearing fairly early in the conversation in like a funny way. A little later another guy showed up, a younger guy named Chad, and Jim explained later that Chad was finished with his project and looking to fill some time so he'd come to help and Jim was glad of the help. Chad set to work demolishing the last half-wall that was supposed to come out-- Andrew hadn't because Jim wanted to put in some bracing beforehand, since the wall's load-bearing and they're going to put in reinforcements to support it a little later.

I came out to look, and apologized for being nosy, and Chad laughed and said "it's your house!" and then mimed hitting the wall with the sledgehammer again and said "Bam!" quietly, like showing that he understood that it was fun to do/watch, and I proceeded to watch in delight as he carefully demolished the plaster wall and carefully removed the light switches and thermostat wiring from the remains.

Jim laughed at me and Chad, and after that has been much warmer to me. i've been well-trained to stand out of the way, and have come to watch them do various things.

[Image: Clean new 2x4s arranged into a temporary brace from ceiling to floor, with a stepladder threaded through it, extending along a space about two feet into the room from where the half-wall was just demolished, to hold the load of the rest of the house. The light switches are dangling and the heat vent poking up out of the floor is just a hole.]

Unfortunately they needed me to clear out a section of the basement where I'd deemed it safe to store things, because there need to be reinforcements put in under the pillars and beam that are replacing the load-bearing wall. I worked on that, and they came and helped me move a table. The heat vent has to be moved, and Jim thought there was going to have to be some whole thing with concrete but midway through the day he had called someone to confirm and they were like what are you talking about and he was delighted to discover he was reading an earlier version of the proposal, and the final contract had said that he could just reinforce a floor joist and meet code that way, rather than having to demolish part of my basement floor to pour a new concrete footing for a new jack post for a pillar to support the corner of the kitchen. He explained this to me with wonderful clarity, and pointed out other places where the original builders of the house had used this same doubled floor joist reinforcement.

Meanwhile the company hauled away the dump trailer with all the demolition debris, and then showed up with a flatbed with all the drywall and insulation for my project, which they put into my garage-- which coincidentally I'd just cleaned out because we'd just had the garage door replaced (on Tuesday, that finally happened, which is great because that was the last possible day it could have happened ha ha no that didn't stress me out at all why do you ask), so anyway it was great to have a good spot to put all that. They even moved the snowblower so it'd be easy to get to, before they filled up the space with the drywall.

Today (Friday) Jim's back by himself, cutting out the old heat vent and extending it to the other side of the room, where it will come up through the kickplate of one of the cabinets. This means that cabinet will be warm and also whoever sits at the table built in to the window will have warm toes, so I approve. Probably Chita is going to want to sit there so we're going to have to figure out how to make room for that, LOL.

Tomorrow Dude's mom is leaving to travel for Christmas, and we're going to go over to her house to house-sit. I think Jim won't have any more questions for me by then, or so I hope-- I'm going to give him my number anyway, and review with him that he's got the house key and everything he needs.

We are living in the living room like gremlins, and have to move sideways through the space because it's so crammed. It was all fine and good until we forgot we'd need to put the stove in there too, and now it's a struggle. And the microwave can't be on the same circuit with the fridge, so if I want to microwave something I have to use an extension cord going into the kitchen. So I can't microwave my lunches. And even still sometimes it trips the circuit breaker. Me having pre-prepared a bunch of food to microwave is now kind of a bummer, because the damn circuit breaker tripping is so annoying and slightly scary.

[image: Haunted-house-looking-ass-shit-- the thermostat is taped to the temporary bracing with painter's tape, and the light switches controlling the pale yellow light that's illuminating the scene are just dangling from their wires into the dark room.]

Today Jim's working on that heat vent and then figures he can get the floor underlayment in. He's cautiously optimistic that the project can be done before Christmas-- they said it would be six weeks, with the kitchen "roughly usable" after three, and he explained it more to me yesterday as he was about to leave.

So once he has the underlayment in, then Monday and Tuesday ("mondee-chusdee", in his accent) the electricians can come, and "chusdee-wensdee" the plumber can come. (He'll mark out the locations of all the cabinets and heights of the counters in painter's tape, he said, so the electricians can work confidently to place the outlets and fixtures.) The plumber will move the stove gas line and the refrigerator water line (Jim was so casually contemptuous of the way the installers had plumbed the waterline for our fridge when we bought it last year. "We'll do it right," he said, "with a water box and a shutoff up behind the fridge so you can work on it from there, we won't use a little plastic hose." He sniffed. "We'll repair this." The installers had used one of those lil sharkbite things I think, to put a little T into the waterline so a plastic tube could thread up through the floor to the fridge. "These things are-- well they're easy for a homeowner to install," Jim said not unkindly, "but they're, well, they're kind of trash."), and will bring the sink standpipe up to code-- it's not bad but it's very 1950-- and then after that, Jim can come back-- but he's got some vacation coming up, he's going to Florida to see his mom, so his colleague Max who's out sick this week ("I told him we didn't need to share whatever he's got, he's a giving guy but it's okay to keep that to himself") will be taking over but it should be pretty seamless-- anyway he explained the master-carpentering things he's gotta do, including building the cabinets and such, which'll take a while. The cabinets get built-in, and then the flooring is installed afterward to butt up against them (the flooring doesn't go under the cabinets because they're not movable, but it does go under the appliances since those are movable), and once the cabinets are in he can get the final measurements to the countertop people, who then take seven-ten days to manufacture the countertop to spec. So that's the delay, he explained-- the appliances can come in and get hooked up, and then you have your stove and your fridge and you can kind of use your kitchen. But the countertop people have this delay before they can install, and that's always where the project feels like it's dragging and people get frustrated, but it's unavoidable. He was delighted to be told that we won't be in the house at that point, we're gonna be house-sitting and won't be breathing down his neck about it. And if we do have to move back in here before the countertops we'll know what's up anyway.

Anyway. "Six weeks is a kinda CYA," he said, "yanno? We wanna leave space for problems. But this is a pretty straightforward job and I don't think we'll have problems." His goal is to have his end of the work done in time for the countertop people not to have to spread their seven-ten day lag out over Christmas and make it even longer. "If I can avoid that, they can get their install done before Christmas, and we can be done," he said. "That'd be pretty great."

So there's that scoop. I ought to be finding this relaxing, as all I've had to do is be like, available, and I've mostly had my days to myself, but I have found it so stressful to listen to all the crashing and such I haven't really gotten much done. Oh well, it's okay.

I am doing a little mini sewalong with some Discord buddies of a Sew Liberated blouse pattern. So I'll have photos of that at some point. I did manage to get the fabric cut even with my house torn up, which is a considerable achievement.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Quitting Time

Warnings: sciatica and chronic pain, sexual harassment, and some possible unmentioned triggers.

Character: Tony Stark

Summary: You're stranded at the office with an unwanted companion.

Request for song Time Comes in Roses by Bess Atwell.

As always, I appreciate all kinds of feedback. A like and reblog means so much to me! <3

You check your watch. Subtly, as to not let on your impatience. You sit at a table among several other executives and your fearless, if not relentless leader, one Tony Stark. It’s after nine o’clock. You’re not impressed.

“Government contracts are bullshit,” Caswell leans back in his chair with a haughty snort, “private contractors all the way. If it works for hospitals–”

“Private contracts will use that shit to con old ladies into the hospital,” Tony retorts.

“You’re the only hold out, Stark, we all have a share.”

“I’m Tony Stark and I have the ultimate say,” Stark insists as he leans a hand on the table, fingers spread wide, “and I’m not the only one. If you stopped talking for one second you’d know our fifth member hasn’t given her vote.”

Caswell rolls his eyes, almost his whole head. You run a manicured nail along the edge of your leather folio.

“I agree with Stark.”

“Teh,” Caswell scoffs, “of course she does. Bootlicker.”

“Excuse you, I’m the only reason he didn’t send missiles to Canada.”

“I still might,” Tony kids.

You fight to suppress your agitation. You can’t stand this stiff chair much longer. As the years go by, these meetings grow more and more unbearable. Not just the politics but the endless inactivity.

“Three against two, we still have the majority.”

“Add your shares up, Cas,” Tony snaps, “you can do the math, can’t you?”

The three men groan and snort and spit in disappointment. None of you hold enough shares to override the CEO. The board is a farce, truly. A shell to give an illusion of equity and ethics. You don’t know why you ever wanted to sit at the boys’ table, it didn’t do much but give you sciatica.

“Now, I was due for a neat scotch about twenty minutes ago so if you would excuse yourselves, I got some catching up to do,” Tony dismisses with a clap.

You exhale, letting the tension ease from you. Home, your bed, maybe even a hot bath before you settle down with a wine to help you sleep. 

The other men rise, pushing their chairs against the table with unrestrained frustration. You push yourself up and close the leather folder around your tablet. The rest of the board wastes no time in fleeing, a few muttered words towards Stark as he fiddles with his phone.

You bend your legs and grab your purse, a groan escaping your lips as you straighten once more. That twinge in your hip makes your leg buckle. You put a hand against the table and right yourself.

“Everything good there, primrose?” Tony peeks up above his cell.

“Good,” you assure him, refusing to react to the name he often hurls at you. Better than tight-ass you suppose. 

You strut slowly to the door and another pang shoots up your back. You catch yourself against the transparent wall and curse. Couldn’t hold out just a few minutes longer? Just another layer peeling away with the erosion of age. As if you’re not acutely aware of the silver strands and the thin lines around your eyes.

“You sure about that?” Tony nears and touches your arm, “old tennis injury?”

“Mmm, something like that,” you push yourself away from the wall and try to take another step. You trip as your hip radiates with agonizing fire, “fuck me.”

Tony chuckles and catches you. He casually snakes his arm under yours and around your back, directing you to one of the chairs as he spins it around. He helps you sit as you drop onto the seat with a growl.

“Take a minute, prim,” he tucks away his phone, “I’m sure the old man can wait.”

Your eyes list away derisively. You reach down to knead your lower back. You tilt your head against the leather and cluck.

“I just need a minute. I can let myself out. Don’t want to impede on your scotch tasting.”

“Speaking of, I think a shot might do you well, huh, primrose.”

“No, thank you,” you stretch out your leg and whimper. Holy shit, you feel your hip click against your tailbone. 

“You sure? Come on, let down your hair for once.”

You give him a look, the one that withers most men. He only laughs. He pulls out another chair and sits. His eyes watch your left hand as you bring it up to rest in your lap.

“Thought you were hitched, prim.”

“Engaged. Not anymore.”

“Ah, too bad. Makes sense though, not a lot of guys go for the no-shit kinda gal like you.”

You puff out and grip the arms of the chair. You need to go. You can’t stand his arrogance. It’s just making you tense up even more.

“So, you’re not married, not promised, does that mean you’re single?”

“It means I’m not looking,” you rebuff.

He snickers again. He’s always amused by you, even as others squirm. You swipe your hand across your forehead and blow out another breath.

“You know, I give great massages,” he offers, “had a masseuse, she showed me a few things. Lots of things actually.”

“Ugh,” you curl your lip.

“I could loosen you up, prim, get you back to operating. Kind my specialty, you know? I bring things to life with these very hands,” he presents his fingers, admiring them himself.

“You’ll only make it worse,” you snip.

“Maybe? But uh, you’re not looking too good. So, I’m thinking there’s two options here. You let me rub you down a bit. You get a little bit of relief and I finally get to answer that eternal question that’s been floating around all these years.”

“What’s that?”

“If you’re really a cyborg under all that,” he tweaks a brow, “my money is on no but you know, Harvey is really convinced–”

“What’s the other option?” You bark.

“Well, the other option was my original offer, scotch. Double would do, it’s a vintage.”

You scowl. He’s right in that you don’t have much of a choice. You’re too scared to try standing again. Not yet. 

“Scotch,” you answer bluntly.

“Great,” he snaps his fingers and stands, “once we get some of that in ya, I’m sure option one will look a lot better.”

“You’re not touching me, Stark,” you growl as he sweeps around the chair.

“We’ll see about that,” he calls back as he struts out the door.

[assignmentimprobable]

I haven’t subjected anybody to my posting in the last month so it’s time to break my streak with a dose of word salad.

To Start… It really gets my goat that it’s sort of integrated into Wolverine lore on a fandom level now that Stryker was the Weapon X culprit. Not necessarily because ‘oh that’s not how it was in the comics!’, even though that’s part of it. More because I think there is something genuinely interesting in the kind of evil that Stryker presented in God Loves, Man Kills (1982), the story that made up half of the movie’s plot elements and themes.

More below the cut. Warning for discussions of eugenics, racism, mentions of lynching.

Yes. This comic.

There’s a lot to be said about the prevailing relevance of televangelists using religious hypocrisy and white supremacist ideology in mass media to spead bigotry and incite lynchings within their following.

I do actually recognize the value of compositing Stryker’s character with Dr. Thornton from the Weapon X (1991) story. You only get 2 hours to hash out what’s happening, the writers wanted to pick up the threads from the last movie. For the purpose of a movie, a military contractor and scientist is an easy evil to swallow, because duh, and an easier one to clean up. That said, I think it was only ever good for that one outing.

Seeing him again in Origins can be explained as taking us back full circle— But even then, it falls apart because there’s such a Nothingness to his inclusion. He’s a generic CO without anything to add to the overarching dialogue on mutants, or the underpinnings of the original Weapon X story (Which is a problem for another post because I’ve got some fucking WORDS to say about the entirety of… all that. And how the movie undertook it). I KNOW that you’re probably thinking ‘why would you expect intelligence from origins’, and it’s like, I don’t. I watched that shit when it hit bootleg fresh off the DVD guy’s trunk collection. But if you’re gonna make such a big change with these kinds of ramifications on a movie timeline and stand on it, then well. I’m gonna write about it. Especially when he’s in fuckin DOFP and I’ve gotta see his foreshadowed impact getting waved around.

The point of Stryker in GLMK was that he couldn’t be easily handled by sending the X-Men in, he’s a political figure using the cover of free speech, fundamentalist Christian “values” and gathering enough clout to perpetrate some heinous shit.

Stryker didn’t need to experiment on anybody or invade the X-Mansion to make their lives palpably worse. He was gathering up the already large following of people gung ho as fuck to legislate on mutant rights. I used the word “lynching” earlier with intent, because that’s exactly what he did: the comic starts with two black mutant children being lynched and having a sign with the mutant slur hung on the bodies. Which. Alright. The use of black pain and black death in a story like this inevitably serves the allegory and makes the conclusion inescapable for even the most braindead readers of 1982. Dare I say, inescapable for the braindead readers of 2024. That said, the margin of leeway you can give it (if you even want to) gets smaller when you consider Kitty Pryde dropping the n word to ‘prove a point’ in the same story. How the mutant metaphor constantly assumes the volatility and natural genetic power of the underclass. Or how the team never seemed to have more than one face of color at a time having something vital to do, if even that. Hm.

Anyways, in invoking the imagery for this murder: The story illustrates that Stryker’s ultimate conclusion is 1-to-1 with his real life counterparts. It’s the last stop on the train to annihilation, and it never stops at just one group of arbitrarily picked undesirables. Bigotry never has one layer . You peel it back and you get another. You get down to the root of eugenics, the exclusion it’s all white supremacy. The same fire and brimstone preacher tactics, the same righteous indignation about problems that aren’t even Real. Designations of ‘natural’ that are presupposed by European defaults. The front runners of it have just gotten enough fucking simpletons thinking that they won’t be next, or not even *caring* that they’ll be next, as long as the object of their hate gets to suffer. It all comes down to the fuckin race science with these people. It does stink something fierce that FOX/Marvel were so afraid of pissing off evangelists that they bit the bullet and changed things up. It’s really a disservice to the story it’s adapting, and I LIKE X2! It’s probably my favorite of the movies?

TLDR: Corporations are cowards when it comes to standing on business. The Strykers of the world were real 42 years ago and they’re real now. Oh, and if I never see William Stryker again in an X-Men film, it’ll be too soon.

[nerdieforpedro]

I’m your fool Sugar

Joel Miller x plus size OFC

Fanfiction 18+

Masterlist / Joel Miller Masterlist / Drops of Sugar Series

Summary: Super soft Joel (no-outbreak) and female reader have a great relationship. She wants to give Joel a surprise to make him come home sooner.

Warnings: fluff, light smut (not great detail), Joel and reader using pet names, not really much, that’s for part two 😎

Layla was happy, it had been so long. Way too long since she had been. She had gotten up early, disheartened to peel the thick, chiseled arm that laid across her stomach. It belonged to Joel Miller, her boyfriend of the last nine months. Not that they called each other that. Neither of them had said it. Joel stirred, feeling the loss of heat and growled, angry that morning had come so soon.

“It’s alright honey, I just have to go in early. Get some more sleep. Tommy’s supposed to take care of things in the morning, right?’ Layla consoled him, knowing he wasn’t going to like any answer she gave him other than to lay back down. The man groaned at the mention of work. She lifted his hand and kissed it, her fingers, running over his rough palms and fingertips. He peered up at her, turning on his back, her shoulder had the bite mark on it he made last night, and he saw her scars on her back, he let go of her hand and ran the hardened skin of his finger pads across their raised dark edges. Layla hated them, but Joel enjoyed running his tongue over them before he took her from behind and claimed her for himself, twice last night.

“I’d much rather you didn’t darlin’, I wanna make you sweat your blowout again. Then I can help you grease your hair and brush it back. It makes my hands softer.” The elder Miller brother grinned, Layla stood up and shook her head laughing and she grabbed onto the dresser so she didn’t fall. How was he gonna say something sexy and hilarious at the same time?

“You’re a damn fool Joel Miller, you’re lucky I like you a little.” The woman chuckled, stepping into the bathroom and popped on her shower cap, turning on the water and hopping in. She started washing herself before Joel appeared before her.

“I’m your fool sugar. Ya want me to come in with ya?” He grinned, removing his boxers and dropping them in the hamper. Layla sighed, she really would like he too, but she would be late for work, she knew what he wanted to do.

“You can’t. I need to be there on time.” Layla said deflated. She really would rather let him in the shower, the sexy contractor had even remodeled it to be wider, sacrificing some of the closet space for an activity he deemed more important. She thought he was crazy for asking her to move in after three months and she felt crazier for agreeing. Joel would have had her move in sooner but knew it was way too soon to ask, though he did end up asking after he had her swallow his large load in his office the first time. He hadn’t planned it and it didn’t seem she didn’t either but he want her home, at his home, ready to cuddle with him and Sarah on the couch. After coughing a bit Layla had asked is he was serious and he replied that he was, pulling her up to him and in his lap.

Layla finished shower and quickly dressed as Joel made breakfast downstairs, if she was going to go in and be working those long hours, he made sure she ate before she left. He had made her lunch before she got home last night and it was in the fridge, he pulled it out as she sat down, eyed the delicious food and its chef who wore a plain black apron to prevent the butter from popping in his toned chest. A sight she never thought she would see a man cooking her breakfast willingly and not because she told him to. She felt like she should tell him that she loved him right then or she could have told him four months ago after he turned one of the six bedrooms he has in his house, into an office for her. It could have also been said when after one month of dating, he finally told her that he wasn’t fond of fucking clothes before he stripped her and himself bare. Joel called her a “stunning beauty that he was glad to have spill out of his hands because that meant he might actually get his fill of her.” It had also been the first time Joel saw her cry and promised that he wouldn’t make her cry again unless she asked him to, that made her laugh and him beam, that infectious laughter that lightened his heart.

Layla left for work knowing that it was going to be a long one with all these damn presentations and the prep work that went into them. She got a text from Joel stating that Tommy was handling the work at the office, and he was going to take Sarah out for a daddy/daughter day. Her heart swelled at the thought, he was always so attentive to Sarah and seemed to be walking on eggshells after he introduced them each other two and a half months in. Sarah and Layla looked at each other and laughed that the ever-intimidating Joel Miller appeared to be a shrinking violet before his daughter and lady friend. Sarah remarked how her father beamed and seemed to have a new lease on life, Layla told his daughter that Joel had done the same for her. He kissed Layla’s cheek and grinned saying he was happy to help. His daughter laughed and said she wondered how he snagged her mom let alone Layla with lines like that. Butterflies formed in his stomach when Layla told Sarah that it was part of his charm, his daughter swore that was the first time she saw her father blush.

By the time Layla got home in the evening, the sun was setting, and the house was empty. Joel had texted that he went into the office for a few hours to work with Tommy for a bit and Sarah had gone over to her friends from soccer for a sleepover for the weekend. Having the house to herself, she decided give Joel a reason to come home a little earlier. She sent upstairs and looked through the back of her closet, laying out some black stockings (she double checked to make sure they didn’t have runs- thankfully they didn’t) her red and black corset that was tight, but the clasps were on the front, so it was much easier to get on and the black crotchless panties that matched. The woman grinned and texted Joel immediately.

Honey, I need you to come home now. I’m going to wash off the day and put on a little outfit for you.

She hit send and within a minute she saw the dots starting and stopping, then her phone vibrated. The man called.

“Sugar what chu mean? An outfit?” He whispered the last part so Tommy wouldn’t hear. They were in the office together.

“Joel, you’re supposed to come and find out. Maybe it replaces something you ripped last month. I had a hell of a time buying them without you knowing.” Layla teased in a raspy voice. “The later you are, the more I’ll have to play with myself until you come home love.” She hung up the phone as Joel stood in the middle of the room.

What did he rip last month…? He had ripped a night gown of hers but that was last week, the panties were last month but she had plenty of those. His Sugar had gotten pissed to him for ripping her button up work blouse, but it was silk and felt so good against his skin it was sinful, so he removed it. He didn’t fuck any clothes except…Well damn.

“Tommy. I gotta go. I’ll look at the shit on Monday.” He grabbed his jacket and keys off his desk and was out before Tommy could ask. The younger Miller brought laughed at how sprung his brother was.

Joel was going home to see if he was right.

Part two

@morallyinept @grogusmum

@fhatbhabie

[peelcontractor]

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At Peel Contractor, we specialize in providing high-quality egress windows that not only meet building codes but also enhance your home’s appearance. Let’s dive into the key reasons why installing egress windows should be on your home improvement list.

1. Safety First

The primary function of egress windows is safety. These windows offer a safe exit route in emergencies, particularly in basement areas. In fact, modern building codes often require egress windows for any basement living space. With proper installation by Peel Contractor, you can rest easy knowing that your home is safe and compliant with safety regulations.

2. Professional Installation

At Peel Contractor, we pride ourselves on delivering professional installation services. Our team ensures that your egress windows are not only installed to code but also seamlessly integrated into the design of your home. With years of experience, we guarantee precision in every step of the installation process.

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[guysgoneexposed]

Shower tales: HankyPanky

Josh: Oh good! I thought Hank was supposed to have already started working on my new shower. Something must have come up, which is great for me. The warm water wasn't working at the gym, so I need to take a quick shower before work. Hank and I go way back(kind of), I had a huge crush on him back in High School, but I don't think he even knew I existed. I assumed the water would already be off, but it looks like there's time for one last quick shower. I guess Hank is starting tomorrow? I'm kind of excited to be seeing more of him in person again, I was so excited to see he was working here in town. He also doesn't know I know about his secret online persona : HankyPanky. I was actually the anonymous fan of his that inspired him to start sharing himself online all those years ago. I've been his biggest fan and supporter ever since. I've seen every inch of him, and I'm so thankful he is so willing to share all of his naughty adventures. He is also a contractor that does all sorts of renovations. I am paying him well, because I've heard he does wonderful work. When we met last week to talk about what I wanted, it was is if we were in High School all over again... I went from a confident adult to a puddle of mumbling shyness on seeing how well he has aged. I don't think he even remembers me. He had some great ideas, and I just kept trying to sound like a normal person, and my words kept failing me. Gosh he's so damn hot.

Hank: Josh has no idea how hot he is. He is so adorable, always has been. I spent most of High School crushing on him, wishing he'd make a move. HankyPanky all started because of him. Someone anonymously suggested that I start sharing my beautiful body with the world online , so I created this online persona and it quickly went from thirst traps to full on everything anyone wanted. I have one mega fan that pays for all sorts of kinky things and basically keeps food on my table. Ive been making content for him for years and have never met him. We are so connected, it's like he knows my deepest darkest secrets and loves who I am any ways. I've always dreamed it was Josh, and pretend I'm doing it all for him... but I know that's just too good to be true... a guy can dream. When Josh called to see if I could help out with a new shower, I jumped at the chance. I even moved some other jobs around on my schedule to make sure I got the job. I always take 'before' images of my work so I can show off the transformation. I was supposed to start this morning, but I forgot my camera at home. I told Josh to expect the water to be off most of the week. He said he'd just shower at the gym. I have this kink where I like taking nudes in my clients homes and posting them online. It's something my number one fan suggested and has kind of become my thing. I have quite the following of folks who love seeing be be very very naughty in strangers homes. I'm kind of excited to get naked in Josh's house. Seeing him again after all these years, proves he still takes my breath away. He tries so hard to impress and fumbles, but that just makes him all the sexier. I am going to take my sweet time redoing his shower to maximize the potential for connecting with him. I feel like I might shoot my shot with him, of there is any chance to have something with him... I want to try. Back at his house with my camera, I start to get excited at stripping off in HIS house. As soon as I get inside, I peel off my clothes and take a few pics in his kitchen and living room... then decide to head up stairs to his bathroom to get some of my before shots.

Josh: Hank almost always takes nudes in his client's home. I should know... I'm his biggest fan. Fingers crossed I'll get to see those nudes of him in MY house. It'd be a dream come true. His hot body showing off where I spend most of my time naked. Enough fantasizing, time for a quick shower before work! One last shower in my old shower. I peel my clothes off and throw them in the washer and walk naked up to my bathroom. I turn the shower on and let it warm up. I lather up and start touching myself just drooling over the idea of Hank getting naked in my house, knowing I'll get to see him enjoying himself and working on MY shower. I spent all those years to scared to even say hi to him, and now we're both adults and I have nothing to lose. I want to tell him I'm his biggest fan and tell him I want him. I think we're perfect for each other, maybe I'll ask him out for dinner to celebrate a job well done? Just as I finish rinsing off, I hear a camera shutter click and look up to see Hank standing there BUTT ASS NAKED taking pictures of me... me... NAKED!

[aoisouken]

Aoi Soken|3 checks to prevent leaks in preparation for the coming season!

Prepare for the coming season!

Here are 3 checks to prevent rain leaks!

The rainy season is coming.

We always receive a few inquiries about leaks every year.

The important thing is to prevent leaks before they happen.

We have compiled a list of things you can check before the season arrives.

We have compiled a list of things you can check in advance before the season arrives. Please take a look at it for your reference!

Check the following three points!

(1) Condition of the roof

Roofing

Rust, lifting, gaps at joints

Roof tiles

(i) Roof tiles: Shifting or lifting of tiles, cracks in tiles, gaps in joints.

It is dangerous to go up on the roof, so visually check from a position where you can see

It is dangerous to go up on the roof, so check visually from where you can see.

(2) Condition of exterior walls

　Check for peeling and cracks on the exterior walls.

　Check the deterioration of caulking at joints.

(3) Ceiling and wall stains

In the case of rain stains, the leak is already leaking.

Consult the nearest contractor before it gets worse.

Supplemental information

Check the gutters as well.

Debris in gutters and downspouts

　Rainwater overflows due to poor flow.

Disconnected gutters

　If the water collector and gutter are disconnected from each other, rainwater may run down the wall,

　If the water collectors and gutters are disconnected from each other, rainwater may run down the wall.

Slope of gutter

　The slope of the water catch basin is sloped toward the water collector.

　Be careful if rainwater is leaking from the gutter.

The water will get wet in places that do not need to get wet,

　This can cause premature deterioration of the building.

Supplemental information (2)

When the roof is rusted

　Even a roof that looks fine may have holes due to rust.

　Rust can cause holes to open up in a roof.

For custom-built housing, remodeling, and renovation in Miyagi Prefecture, contact Aoi Soken!

あおい創建|これからの季節に備えて雨漏りを未然に防ぐ確認３選

これからの時期に備えて！

雨漏���を未然に防ぐ確認３選をご紹介します！

これから雨が多く降る季節が到来します。

私たちも毎年必ず数件の雨漏り相談があります。

大事なのは雨漏りを未然に防ぐこと。

そんな季節を迎える前に事前に確認できる内容を

まとめてみました。ぜひ参考にしてみてください！

次の３点を確認しましょう！

①屋根の状態

【金属系】

さび・浮き上がり・ジョイントの隙間

【瓦】

瓦のずれや浮き上がり、瓦の割れ、接合部の隙間

屋根に上がるのは危険なので、見れる位置から目視で

確認してみましょう。

②外壁の状態

　外壁の剥がれ、クラックの有無を確認

　ジョイント部分のコーキングの劣化具合を確認

③天井・壁のシミ

雨染みの場合は、すでに雨漏りしているので

ひどくなる前に最寄りの業者に相談しましょう。

補足①

【雨どいも確認】

・とい内のゴミ

　流れが悪くなり雨水があふれ出てしまう。

・といの外れ

　集水器やとい同士が外れている場合は、

　雨水が壁を伝う場合がある。

・といの勾配

　集水器に向かって勾配がついています。

　といから雨水が漏れている場合は注意。

※本来、濡れなくていい場所が濡れてしまい、

　劣化を早める原因になります。

補足②

【屋根がさびているとき】

　大丈夫そうにみえる屋根でも、「さび」で穴が開いて

　しまう場合があります。

宮城県の注文住宅・リフォーム・リノベーションはあおい創建へ！

[thedreadvampy]

so for Reasons* I am googling when drywall became a big part of construction and wow that's way earlier than I thought. Thinking that the dividing walls in our flat might be as old as the flat itself, or at least like Victorian

*this is the Reason. contractor came round today and said the letting agent had told him he needed to look at 'peeling wallpaper' and I was like sorry pal. it's actually a peeling wall.

[bi-demon-ium]

S2 EP 6 LIVEBLOG

not me asleep for five minutes before this and rushing to get everything up and ready dflgkjghljfgh

ANYWAY

GAYFEAR.PNG

particularly for curtain to discover whats going on + benedict & number two’s “sewing discord” + the Brainsweeper + etc

GENTLY APPLY SOME HANDCUFFS

hey I bet that’s rhonda!!!!!!!!

or milligan rhonda and miss perumal

KATE’S FACE WHEN THE WATER POLO PLAYER FELL THEN WAS SLOWLY DRAGGED BACK IN

RHONDA!!!!! RHONDA MY BELOVED I LOVE HER

ohhhhh hug

kate and martina my beloveds

CONSTANCE dflkgjdfg “LOADED question”

oh so is dr garrison actually going to team up with them???? nice!!!!

also have I mentioned I kinda like her new unhinged person hair

also rhonda looks so good

“you okay with this constance?” aw<3 LKJDFLGKJDG PLUS HER RESPONSE AND “it’s true 😔”

WE ARE INDEPENDENT CONTRACTORS DLGFKJDF OPEN TO A BUYOUT

uh oh ! the greys!

water polo team vs the greys?

slkgj dr garrison immediately fleeing

hang on that sounded like—tranq darts??

MILLIGAN

THE “HELLO”

MILLIGAN GOT HIS TRANQ GUN!!!!!

wait so miss perumal and milligan surrounded by greys earlier they just????? what??? beat the shit out of them too???? amazing

oh here’s everyone running in the field!!! nice music

uh oh miss perumal is chasing constance

“TAKE ME” OHHHH SHES DISTRACTING THEM OHHHH

MARTINA KATE AND MILLIGAN TRIO???? OHH????

oh no milligan got tazed! fuck

fdogldfkgjdfg [paralyzed in back seat flat on back] Just. Drive

UHHH OH GANG SPLIT UP IN THE DARK

reynie and rhonda on motorcycle, constance in the dark, kate milligan and martina in van, miss perumal captured, and… I didn’t see where sticky went?

curtains…. hypnotizing or powering up the child??????? this is so weird I hate this

I feel like he’s charging this kid like a battery

MR BENEDICT<333

I mean big worry bc of the outfit but also <333

twi-night gkhljflgjhfgh

and curtain’s response and continuing to needle him about it

okay see now it seems like mr b ISN’T fully hypnotized but it’s not like he wasn’t unhypnotized and I don’t think he’s acting either bc he’s acting weird and wrong still

then again I guess it’s not quite as simple past the initial burst as “is just extremely comically happy/out of their mind” but then that’s kind of how the others seemed?

“she doesn’t weigh me down” oh no

“WELL I DO NOT WANT TO BE A BURDEN ANYMORE” OH I KNOW ITS LIKE. BUT.

uh oh! a task!

DUSKWORT/DUSKWART? A RARE BUT POWERFUL SEDATIVE? OH?

STOP FUCKING MAKING WEIGHT JOKES IM GOING TO KILL YOU

comedy of orange peel man ruined by weight joke.

Now’s The Time For Feedback.

cutting the hair :(

“I know it needs to be done.”

I mean you didn’t exactly “agree” to separate

INTERESTING CONSIDERING THE SOURCE

OH NO MILLIGAN. OH MILLIGAN. I LOVE YOU BUT. OH. :/

lkgfjgh “im formulating a plan 😌”

also unexpected rhonda and reynie bonding time! nice!

also once again im saying: rhonda is so beautiful

oh also I bet reynie screaming is coming

also very funny if it’s just rhonda going “just scream out your feelings” and him going “what” and shes like “it’ll make you feel better<3”

oh reynie :( “I missed up everything”

I was RIGHT SHES TELLING HIM TO YELL I WAS RIGHT IM SO HAPPY

well, mostly right

REYNIE YOUR SWEATER VEST???

yes youre allowed to be angry beloved

dlfkgjdfg slowly picking up the sweater vest

ah constance and sticky were together that make sense

I feel like I knew that

ANYWAY

“This Is Child Abandonment. You Will Be Fined.”

constance and sticky bonding finally!!!!

they’ve always had some tension so this is good

uh oh

I bet this is catatonia

UH OH YEAH

OH NO

THAT’S BAD ITS NOT JUST ACOLYTES IN THE COMPOUND

OH NO OH NO OH NO

OH THAT’S SO BAD OH GOD NO

this is extremely suspicious somehow I don’t know why I think that but it is

maybe ive just been trained to think small inns like this are traps ldfkgjdfg

A COMMITMENT TO ALL THINGS COZY<3 ROLL CREDITS

fire is not very cozy :(

plot twist curtain burned it down don’t ask me why. he hates coziness

LKJDFGJG CONSTANCE<3 How Much Truth Do You Want.

all things boat !

they haven’t even shown any signs of being paid, they’re children without parents with them????? suspicious or friendly?????

I know I know, snakes everywhere

but COME ON IT’S WEIRD RIGHT

“we must flee this place” see I think constance is being intuitive not grumpy

ONE OF YOUR BROTHERS TOP ATTACHES

LDFKGJLDKFGJ JEFFERS

LUDICRIOUS COVER SAW THROUGH IT RIGHT AWAY

I LOVE JEFFERS YOU IDIOT

kjgkghfgh the very obvious [hangs head] I haven’t found them :(

LKDFJGLKJG HANGING UP ON HIM. RIP JEFFERS

miss perumal is going to destroy him

jackson and jillson time! uh oh!

UH OH TIME FOR HIM TO FIND OUT

I LOVE JACKSON AND JILLSON SO MUCH

“and they’re not moving” he looks actually upset uh oh

“it’s not possible haha” everyone is unconvinced

denial of course we knew

for their privacy, asshole

CHEMICAL MISFIRE IN THEIR BRAINS? IRREVERSIABLE

HIS FACE LDFKJGDFG “OH”

of course you don’t. idiot. I hate you

milligan I love you but entering alone in disguise is also a bad idea

martina having to watch her gf’s daddy issues play out in hd

I love how she continues milligan and kate equal amounts Her Players/Team. and her trying to pep talk them lgdhkjfghj 😭

is there duskwort in those scones. or some shit.

their weird waiting for a reaction

“the crumb isn’t right, is it? your dough was too wet.”

constance I love you but why are you bullying them. genuine question is there a reason

“you’re so selfish!” uh oh!

also wait this is the episode where constance is “surprisingly intrigued” by curtain’s tv special right? so I be—YEAH YEAH FUCK

UH OH

once again trying to explode him with her brain

uh oh. now thin—“negative thoughts only cloud the mind” her face oh no this is bad

oh THIS IS BAD

can you imagine constance going full happy positive and sticky being like wiat no I take it back wheres my rude mean little sister

NO NO N O NO N O NO NO N O NO NO N O NO NO THE SMILE NO

martina i adore you

“no matter what goes down, im glad we got to hang out again” <3

madge’s honor? lkdfjgdkfjg

milligan. ldkfjglkdjfg.

“but standing by if you need me while also giving you space” + martina’s reaction ohh

“he’s just worried”

“my parents are nice people” “but are they interested in my life?” “your dad’s trying. he’s interested” ohhhh

also martina not an orphan confirmed huh

well they could be foster parents but you know

sticky’s going to apologize for snapping and then—

OH YEAH :(

OH THIS IS BAD

TERRIFYING

wow that was an abrupt cut to commericals huh

could have lingered on her creepy smile as she said “of course”

anyway.

i cant believe they whammied constance?????

“SHE IS BREAKING ME SOFIA”

deep breaths, we have to try—this is definitely something shady

recruitment for curtain?

shes going to say something nice or something

shes being so weird and cheerful I hate it wheres my mean grumpy daughter?????

although the couple/siblings (?) reaction was good

oh the little music playing I love that thing

oh hes going to get so excited about infodumping about boatwright he’s distracted by her whammiedness

“shes very brave. and a good friend” gf talk dlfkgjdfg

milligan is very similar

“im confused too.” [she looks up in surprise]

OHHHH KATE AND MILLIGAN HUG OHHHHH

whos going to come out of the woods

AH rhonda and reynie!!!!

RHONDA AND MILLIGAN HUG???? ADORABLE BUT LIKE

BRO IF MR BENEDICT DOESN’T GET A HUG IM GOING TO KILL SOMEONE

constance sounds so unlike herself it’s so weird I hate this :(

“did you just call me sticky” “of course! that’s your name, silly!”

THAT’S HOW HE GOT IT LKHJFGHFH

DKGLJDGLHKJFGLHKJFLGKHJFGLKHJ

JEFFERS WHAT IS THAT POSE

“FOUND YA!”

HE’S SUCH A NERD

I HATE THIS MAN

DLJFGLKFJG ITS TAKEN ME A LONG TIME TO REBUILD MY SELF ES—SIR PLEASE

TO KNOW DEEP IN MY HEART I CAN SECURE A PERIMETER LKDGFJG

oh no is he going to rat them out?????? oh wait no probablt sedating him

headmaster shu

time. time with each other. so thank you. “you’re welcome, nicholas.”

oh there’s no way curtain doesn’t immediately know whats going on his face is too. flgkhjfgh

although seeing curtain here is weird

mr benedict telling jokes and never collapsing

and curtain not doing his LAUGHS HYSTERICALLY THING

DLFKGJDLFKGJDKFJG Jackson and jillson “hello CROWE”

“a very exclusive list of traitors. when you betrayed us”

LKDJGLKJG EXTREMELY BUSY I THOUGHT HE SAID “EXTREMELY PISSY”

THEY. THEY RECCOMENDED HER? OH

ohhhhhhhhhh

martina awkwardly widening her arms to hug both of them at once ldkfgjldkfgjlgkhjfghfgh

of all the hugs I hoped we gte I admittedly did not predict jackson jillson and martina???

EVERYONE’S REUNITED?? ALMOST???

“TURNS OUT THE WHOLE VAN THING IS A CRIME” LFDKGDFG

ohhh another kate and martina hug but kate initiated glkfgjh 🥺

rhonda: if you ever need a job—dglhjhlfgkjhfgh

I kinda expected her to leave but still sad :(

“your’e too easy, nicholas. I can keep the puns flowing all day”

but it doesn’t look like hes fallen asleep

number two’s expression did NOT look happy

is he going to stop curtain from drinking?

mr benedict your feelings are written all over your face you are terrible at this

oh. oh no

mrs two? did he just say mrs two?

number twod;fgkd lfgjdkfjg that awkward shoulder pat

oh hes WHAMMYING HER OH NO

OH NO THAT WAS THE END? WHAT THE FUCK

[cmesinic]

Orange Peel Man’s legacy.