#neighborhood plumber

[judeiscariot]

the way this picture still manages to give off powerful lesbian energy

NO LITERALLY they are the elderly retired butch4femme couple who live in a bungalow in aruba where frank does free handyman jobs for their neighbors and ray strolls along the beach in a sundress and does watercolor paintings of the sunset every night

[plumbers-of-pittsburgh]

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[moongreenlight]

Have you ever seen that corny ass skit where it’s the girl talking to her husband asking him to fix things and he says “I’m not a plumber” “I’m not a carpenter” bla bla bla and then one day he comes home and the girl’s like “oh yeah I had the neighbor come over to fix the things you wouldn’t” and the neighbor says she can either bake him a cake or sleep with him as payment so the husband asks “so what kind of cake did you bake him?” And the girl says “I’m not a baker?”

Very much Neighbor!Price x stay-at-home-mom!reader coded :)

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Neighbor!Price who’s found a quiet little cul-de-sac to settle in when he’s got some time off. It’s a little neighborhood, mostly older people who’re thrilled to have a man like him around to help bring out bins and offer to mow their lawns or rake their leaves or shovel their drives when he’s around.

But somehow he’s found the only other younger family in the area living directly next to him. Parents are a few years his junior, and they’ve got two young kids. He assumes the boy, the older one, is early elementary age- sees you herding him into the car in the morning with a pack lunch and a backpack that’s nearly the same size as he is to and from the house in the morning and afternoon. And the girl, the younger, must be in pre-k, because she’s only out for half the day and doesn’t get the same pack lunch her brother gets.

He’s gotten to know you pretty well. When he’s around, the two of you will chat while you’re tending your garden and he’s working in his garage carrying out some odd project or another. He thinks you’re sweet. Likes the way you wear overalls with a little top when you’re planting flowers in the beds out front. How when you bend over or stand at the right angle he can imagine you’re not wearing a top at all.

He hates your husband. He’s crass and rude and never waves hello to any of the neighbors- odd for such a friendly little community. Leaves for work early and comes home late and leaves you to fend for yourself all day. Doesn’t know how to interact with you or your kids. And Price is almost certain he doesn’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked because his bedroom window looks over your living room and he’s caught you on the couch with your hand down your pants more times than could have been coincidence.

He’s known to be the neighborhood handyman. Got a little workshop set up in his garage and a general knowledge about nearly everything, so it’s not uncommon that he gets a knock on the door a few times a week. Usually it’s some of the older neighbors popping over to see if he can fix their TVs or help their grandkids connect to the Wi-Fi, but it’s a pleasant surprise when you turn up on his porch mid-morning.

You’re scrunching the ends of your soaking wet hair in a towel. Apologizing as soon as you hear him turn the deadbolt. Feverishly going on about how you must have blown a circuit in the bathroom trying to dry your hair and you’d usually be able to manage but your husband shoved a bookshelf in front of the breaker and you can’t get through to it.

He’s sweet about it. Always is, but especially for you. Follows you over to your place and promises you no less than ten times that it’s really no trouble. He’s happy to help. It’s a quick fix, but he drags it out as long as he can. Insists on following you up and down the stairs from the basement to the top floor twice to make sure everything’s working properly.

He notices that the bathroom door sticks and that the fire alarm in the hallway is chirping from a low battery. You apologize for the toys in the living room and the clean laundry pile on the couch and the state of your house. Say that your husband is racking up a hefty to-do list with a small laugh that’s just a bit too forced.

He’s thrilled to tell you that he’s got some free time later in the week and says he’ll come over if only to help out your husband. Makes some backhanded remark about how your husband is clearly a busy lad. You refuse- of course- sweet thing that you are, but he turns up the next day after you’ve taken your kids to school anyway.

He tails you up the drive so there’s no way you can shut him out. Shushes you when you try to apologize for one reason or another and takes off to fix not only the sticky bathroom door and the fire alarm batteries, but also the dripping kitchen faucet and the garbage disposal that’s been broken for months.

You try to stay clear of whatever room he’s working in, chirping short responses to whatever nonsense question he asked in an attempt to lure you over. It was only when he was about to head out and he saw you leaning on the dryer to keep it shut that he saw his golden opportunity.

You were clearly trying to hide it, but even with a small load of clothes in, it sounded like you’d thrown a pair of boots into a tin garbage pail and shook it hard as you could. You tried to shoo him off, but he wasn’t having any of it.

There’s enough skirting around the subject to give you chance to turn down his advances, but when he realizes you’re not outright telling him to go fuck himself, he’s essentially taking it as a challenge to see if he can’t push you to that point.

Hoists you up on the still clanging machine and pushes between your legs on the weak pretense of needing you there to keep the door shut while he works. The machine shook the straps of your top down off your shoulders and made him acutely aware of the fact that you hadn’t had the time to put on a bra yet. It made his pants near painfully tight on the crotch.

He’d try and make idle chat. Your kids and plans for the day, but it’s entirely too hard for him to focus on anything other than the way your thighs are pressing together as the dry cycle started to bang the machine around more. He makes a light comment about how he’s not sure how you get anything done around the house with the dryer in this state. Your laugh is breathy.

And when he leans over you to reach to the back of the machine, he can feel the way your soft panting breaths fan his neck. Confirms his suspicions.

“Alright?”

You’re chewing the inside of your lip while you nod. Clearly starved for stimulation if all it takes is a dry cycle to get you off. Poor thing.

It’s stuffy in the laundry room. Adds to the appeal. Makes your shorts ride up and stick to your legs. Your thighs are dewy and glide together when you shift under his gaze.

“You sure, doll?”

The two of you are almost nose-to-nose. You’re leaned back, caged in by his big arms that look even bigger in his almost obscenely tight shirt. He’s smiling. Letting his eyes wander to your collarbones. The way your throat bobbed when you swallowed.

Before you could choke out your answer, the dryer stopped. Chimed the alert and slowly stilled. You took a shaky breath and nodded once more, looking like you couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed or relieved. He backed off, stretched out his hand to help you down.

You lead him to the kitchen. Ask if you can get him anything. Tea or food. He declines. You say something about stopping to get cash when you’re out picking up your daughter in a couple hours. He declines again.

“John, really, I appreciate your help. You have to let me get you back.”

You’re filling the kettle with water anyway, leaned just slightly over the sink. He knows it’s impolite to stare, but he’s never had very good manners when it came to things like that.

“Bake me a cake or somethin’, then. Sleep with me. Won’t take your money, though.”

You whirl around and end up sloshing some water down your front. Doesn’t seem to phase you. Your eyebrows are damn near at your hairline.

“I don’t know if that’s appropriate, considering…”

He snorts a soft laugh. It’s kind- not at all suggestive. Like he’s playing off a clever joke.

“What? Baking me a cake?”

You purse your lips and set the kettle on the stove.

“Never been a very good baker.”

He about hurdles the kitchen island like he’s running track.

“That right?”

You make a thoughtful sound before clicking on the burner. He can see you biting back a smile. You finally turn to face him. Leaned back on your hands with your head cocked slightly to the side.

“I just don’t know that it would be appropriate given our- my- situation.”

It’s his turn to hum and nod. Take a few steps forward, slow and slinky like a predator stalking toward its prey.

“Sure.”

You chew your bottom lip. Try to find some resolve in fussing with your wedding ring. It’s horrible. Small. He can’t help but think about how he’d be able to get you a much better one. He takes a few more steps forward.

“It’s complicated, John.”

Your voice is mousy now.

“I know.”

A few more steps forward and he’s back nose-to-nose with you. Pinning you against the counter.

“I just-“

“Then tell me to go home.”

The button of his jeans grazes your groin and sends sparks up your spine. You recoil slightly, but he’s got his massive hands on your wrists to keep you in place.

“My husb-“

“Don’t. S’not what I said. Tell me to go home. Tell me to go home, and I’ll leave. S’easy as that.”

The coarse hair of his beard brushes along your jaw. Visible goosebumps rise all the way up your neck and down your arms.

“John, he-“

A throaty growl from him.

“He’s not getting a lick of you.”

And then somehow he’s got you on your back on the couch. Shoved off the pile of laundry and pushed you down. His eyes are near pitch black and hungry. Ravenous. He tears off your shorts. Doesn’t wait for you to hoist your hips, just yanks so hard that you’re a little worried you’ll get thrown off the couch with them.

He is wretched. Planting wet kisses from the inside of your knee all the way up to your sex frustratingly slow. Big hands splayed over your hips to keep you from bucking up into his mouth. He’s got this maddeningly smug smile on his face like he’s waiting for the perfect moment to say I told you so. Like he knew this was going to happen from the start, you were just too stupid to see.

Your underwear is embarrassingly wet from your little go on the dryer. Your pussy puffy and sensitive underneath. You whine when he kisses over the damp spot. Laves his tongue over your folds without pulling them to the side. He makes some comment about the state of you that borders on snarky, but you choose to ignore it.

When he finally does rid you of your panties, there’s a moment of clarity where you realize what you’re doing. You push up on your elbows and try to roll out from under him, but he gives your clit a mean slap that forces you back onto the couch and ends your protest. Sends you to that liminal, clouded headspace where all you can focus on is how desperately you need to come.

It’s clear he’s savoring the moment. Running the point of his tongue through your folds. Teasing at your hole. Artfully swirling around your clit, but never close enough to give you the friction you’re so desperately craving. Planting hot, wet kisses on your inner thighs. Leaves a few love bites in his wake like he’s boasting; so certain your husband wouldn’t get close enough to notice that he had no problem decorating you as he pleased.

You’re a mess. Being taken apart stitch by stitch. Panting and whining and begging for more. Your orgasm is coiling tight under your belly without him having to do much. Any other time you’d have felt a little pathetic, but you were too preoccupied to care now.

He finally brings his hands up and you think he’s about to stuff you full, but he only lets his fingers drag slowly along your sensitive sex. Collects some of your arousal and pulls it up toward your naval. Watches the goosebumps form under his touch.

He rucks your shirt up with his free hand and immediately wraps his lips around your pebbled nipples. Tongues at them. Lets his teeth graze teasingly over them. And whatever one he’s not got currently in his mouth, he’s working his fingers over. Pinching and flicking until you’re teary eyed and squirming under him.

And then finally, fucking finally, he ducks back down and fixes his mouth on your clit. Sucks gently on the swollen bud for just a moment and then companies his mouth with two fingers bullying their way inside you.

The stretch is almost uncomfortable in its suddenness, but you quickly get used to it. The pleasure is blinding. Forces you to throw your head back against the cushion and screw your eyes tightly shut. A string of high, needy moans float through your gaped lips.

He’s sweet, Jesus, is he. Hums and groans with his mouth still on your bundle of nerves. Pulls away just enough to tell you how pretty your pussy is taking him before going back to work on your sensitive clit. You want to scream. You think you may actually come entirely undone on this couch if he doesn’t stop.

And then your orgasm coils so tightly within you that it explodes outward. Tears through you and leaves every square inch of your skin sizzling. He doesn’t let up. Pins you down by the stomach with his forearm and continues down his warpath. The sounds his fingers make when they sink into you are so pornographic that it makes your face hot.

You eventually find it in you to warble out something that sounded like please, too much. And he pulled off, still with that smug grin pulling his lips now surrounded by glistening slick caught in the hair of his beard.

He gives you one last kiss. Lewd and wet and so searing hot you’re worried it will actually blister the sensitive flesh of your cunt. He’ll sit back on his haunches and fuss with the button and zipper of his jeans before saying something horrible and cheeky like

“C’mon, doll. Thought you were set on payin’ me back.”

[apomaro-mellow]

steddie falls into porn cliches on accident

Steve was in the middle of washing the conditioner out of his hair, loving the silky smooth feeling and watching the water turn from cloudy to clear as it was all rinsed out. He was ready to start washing his body in earnest now, when he heard the doorbell ring.

For a second, he was ready to just ignore it, thinking it might be a delivery or someone trying to solicit. They could leave whatever they had on the doorstep or keep moving. Then the bell rang a second time and Steve remembered that he was in fact supposed to answer it.

Robin had hired a plumber to fix their sink. She told him they'd be coming between 8 am to noon. Steve had gotten in the shower exactly at eight, thinking surely he had enough time in that window. What kind of plumber showed up this promptly!?

Steve turned the shower off and grabbed the first robe off the hook. It wasn't his, he knew that. But in his defense, Robin wasn't home and he liked to air dry when he could. She could get mad at him later for snagging hers. He tied it hastily, rushing to the door before the plumber left.

-------------------

Eddie waited for the door to be answered, checking his watch while he did. Today was his only appointment, so he thought he was doing well by showing up on the early end of the window. He was ready to spout the rehearsed script when the door opened. Good morning, Munson and Son Plumbing. You got a problem with your drain pipe? Well I'm here to fix it. Fun fact, I'm a guitarist, so I'm pretty good with my hands. Anyone you know looking for lessons?

His uncle didn't always like him plugging his side gig, but putting up posters around neighborhoods wasn't quite as successful as actual face time. Then the door fully opened and he got an entire eyeful. A dripping wet god of a man, his modesty just barely preserved in a bath robe. It did nothing to hide his thick, hairy thighs or impressive chest.

"Hi I'm here to handle your pipe!", Eddie blurted out. "I'm mean I'm good with my hands! P...plumbing! I'm the plumber, I'm here for your plumbing."

"Oh, y-yeah, we've been expecting you", Steve tried to close the top of his robe more and that made Eddie self conscious about staring.

Steve introduced himself and Eddie did the same as he was let into the house, somehow not putting his foot in his mouth as he did. Steve took him to the problem sink and Eddie got to work while Steve excused himself.

He went into his room, looking for something presentable only to find it was mostly his stuff for the club. Definitely not appropriate for a plumber visit. Then he remembered why. He had started a load of laundry last night. And when he woke up this morning, putting it in the dryer so it'd be ready once he was done with his shower.

He went to the laundry room to do just that, emptying the contents of the dryer into his hamper, bending over to do so. Once he was done, he'd be able to put together an outfit that didn't make him look like a desperate housewife.

Eddie had just finished tangling with the pipe. It didn't take as long as he had expected but his shirt was drenched now. He listened out for Steve, hoping he was nearby so that he didn't have to call for him, only to hear something...odd.

He followed the sound until he came to an open door and realized what the sounds were - little grunts of effort. Eddie bit his lip, letting logic and reason work themselves out. Steve knew he had someone in the house and the door was wide open so he couldn't be-

Eddie walked through the door and there was Steve, bent over, top half in the dryer, bottom half sticking out. His robe had began to hitch up, revealing just the bottom of that perfect ass.

"Holy shit", Eddie squeaked out.

"Hey? Plumber guy? I know this is awkward but would you mind helping me out? My robe got caught on something and I can't-I can't free myself."

"Um, okay? So should I just...should I just?", Eddie got behind Steve, hands fumbling. Should he adjust the robe or would that be rude?

"Just grab me and pull", Steve said, wriggling around more and stopping when he heard a rip.

"Yeah, okay, yeah I'll just", Eddie grabbed Steve's hips and pulled, to no avail.

"Gonna have to do it a bit harder than that", Steve said. "Here I'll, I'll try and push too."

Eddie swallowed as he pulled again, Steve's hips coming flush with his own and eliciting a gasp from the other man.

"A...again."

Eddie pulled again, harder this time. He had kind of been working with a half chub. The kind Steve had to feel right between his cheeks every time Eddie pulled on him.

Steve gasped with each time their hips came together and it was getting hard to pretend his asshole didn't flutter with each movement.

"Fuck, just fuck me already", Steve whined.

Eddie wasted no time in dropping his pants and rubbing his cock against Steve's ass, precum dripping and Steve still wet from the shower. The tip slipped in with ease and then the rest of him and Steve's hips wouldn't stay still and then he was fucking him oh shit he was fucking him he was fucking a client while on the clock.

Steve's voice sounded goddamn ethereal, echoing inside the tub of the dryer. He was giving as good as he got, pushing back with each thrust and Eddie got to watch his dotted cheeks jiggle with each impact.

Eddie pushed the robe up more, licking his lips as he was rewarded with the sluttiest back arch that he'd ever seen. He wasn't going to last and this Steve guy wasn't either. Eddie came first, one hand on Steve's hip and the other bracing itself on the dryer so that he didn't fall over. Steve's cock spilled into the floor, a mess to be dealt with later.

"Fuck...you really are good at handling pipes", Steve laughed through his panting.

When Eddie left that day, he didn't get Steve's number. But a week later their company got a call about a clogged toilet and specifically requested that Eddie come over, that they only trusted his expertise. This time, Eddie wouldn't let it slip through his fingers. And this time when Steve greeted him in a half open robe, it was on purpose.

[alnilaem]

so the neighborhood with butcher!simon is dangerous 🤔🤔

how would he react to reader’s apartment getting broken into while they’re both at home?

i think he would make good use of the meat grinder at the butcher shop if you uhhhh catch my drift

anon your mind!!

it would start as three soft rasps next door, which already stirs Simon’s intrigue. he hears a man’s voice sifting through the corridor, in front of your flat, and poises himself like a dog that’s about to attack.

it’s something about coming to fix leak, and fleetingly, a stint of envy lays hold of Simon. why didn’t you ask him? hasn’t he already made it clear it’s his duty to help you? you’re a woman alone in neglected Manchester. he doesn’t want you asking others for help.

your voice cuts a way through the wall. “I didn’t call for a plumber?” and if Simon’s hackles weren’t raised, if he wasn’t acutely aware, he would have cooed at the confusion distorting your voice.

the plumber presses, insisting you open the door. I’ve already driven all the way here, you called me a week ago—you just don’t remember.

a whisper of fear seizes you. and on the other side of the wall, Simon bares his teeth. he’s had his fair-share of shady shit. worked in dodgy places for dodgy people, so it clicks in his brain like violet light when the aforementioned plumber quietens, presentiment hanging in the air.

then, a crack. resounding, but not unbecoming for this area of town. the plumber is hurling his body against the fickle wood of your door, making a depression within the timber.

bang, bang, bang, and the splitting of wood is all you hear. your brain is too high-strung to recognise Simon’s door opening, or the sound of battering on your door ripening into the hollow sound of flesh against flesh. knuckles splitting against bone, a soft, snuffed-out holler that seems to get smothered under the bubbling of blood and fists.

your mind is reeling. your brain is delayed. belatedly, you catch up. you set your cheek to your door, your tears sticking to the wood. sniffling. “hello?”

“’m here, love, it’s me,” Simon replies. his voice is heavier than usual, caught on the angry chatter of his teeth. “don’t come out, okay? stay there.”

Simon stands in the middle of the corridor, huffing like a bull. there’s blood and salt crusted in the margins of his hands—more than he’s ever had at the butcher shop.

[lurkingindoorways]

Some of my favorite episodes of the Magnus Archives:

- Guy goes hunting, is surprised when he gets hunted

- Woman goes through door (derogatory)

- Tjmax mannequin comes to life

- Man doesn’t like how fellow gym members look (rude)

- Plumber simply does his job, nothing goes wrong at all

- There is mold in Man’s shower drain

- Previously mentioned door woman comes out of door

- Dead goth is very useful (slay)

- Woman goes to sculpting class, nothing goes wrong at all

- Man gets lost in a neighborhood (very funny)

- Man Opens The Door (bad things ensue)

- Door Woman no! Don’t lie! You’ll die!

[bumblequinn]

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hello neighbor 💓

over the past seven years, i've had the privilege of living at a house of queer chosen family, which we call "the chrysalis." i produced nearly the entire soundtrack for SLARPG while living in this space; it's the biggest reason my work has been made possible, and it's also been an invaluable space for my own personal healing from complex PTSD.

today we called a plumber to address a leak in our bathroom and get a general inspection, and through that inspection we discovered that our main toilet and water heater urgently need replacing.

the estimated price for these repairs is in the neighborhood of $5,000; we're hoping to get at least half of those costs covered.

as a household of neurodivergent queers, our collective income has always been pretty modest. with the success of SLARPG i've been able to help with expenses, but it's honestly a feat that we've managed to hold on to this space for as long as we have. given that, any amount of help would make a huge difference for us.

please understand that i share this with the absolute recognition that in 2024, there are other people who need help more than we do. if you only have the funds to donate to more pressing causes, please direct your aid where it's needed most first.

with that said, if you are able to share or donate any amount, it would be greatly appreciated. thank you for supporting, for sharing, and for being.

with care and gratitude, bee 🐦

[misspygmypie]

Neighbor Wars: Lando vs. Jake

Part of the "Meet & Greet... and more?" Universe Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Words: 1710 Request: Anon 1: Could you please write something where Land gets jealous like a new neighbor has been spending a lot of time wit reader and Noah. But he moves to a house to get away from it. (Maybe it was time to move and he sort of wants to be petty). Anon 2: I love Noah and Lando but could we please get some more of Lando and reader. Maybe while Lando is away reader calls a handyman to help fix things and he plays with Noah and when Lando gets home he gets jealous at him flirting with his wife and playing with his kids. Masterlist

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Lando was in the process of enduring an exhausting triple-header, racing through three back-to-back Grand Prix events across Europe. The schedule had been relentless, leaving him barely any time to check in with his family. When he finally managed to catch up, he was met with something he hadn’t quite expected: a rising wave of jealousy.

Their new neighbor, Jake, had moved into the adjacent unit just before Lando’s racing marathon had begun. From his sparse updates Lando had seen that Y/N and Noah had been spending a lot of time with Jake who, as a single father with an easygoing nature, had quickly become popular with the building’s residents.

One evening Lando scrolled through social media from his hotel room and he came across a post showing Jake, Y/N and Noah having a picnic in the communal garden. Next to them was baby Maebry, the Norris family’s newest addition. Some other pictures showed Jake playing soccer with Noah and even building some Legos. The sight of Y/N and Noah’s happy faces with Jake comfortably nestled among them sparked an unexpected amount of jealousy in Lando. It was as if Jake had become an honorary member of the family while Lando was just a spectator.

He chuckled bitterly to himself. Well, look at that. Jake’s living the dream, playing happy family while I’m here, stuck in a never-ending cycle of jet lag.

When Lando finally returned home he was eager to reunite with his family but his excitement was quickly overshadowed by the sight of Jake helping Y/N with a pile of laundry in the common area. As Lando approached he forced a warm smile that felt more like a grimace. “Hey, Jake,” he said, his voice clearly annoyed. “Good to see you again. Thanks for, uh, doing the laundry.”

Jake looked up with a friendly grin, his demeanor as smooth as ever. “Hey, Lando! No problem, just helping out. Y/N was a bit overwhelmed with the baby’s stuff, so I thought I’d lend a hand.”

Lando nodded, trying to keep his thoughts from spilling out of his mouth. Of course you did. Because who wouldn’t want to be the hero of the laundry room?

One afternoon the sink in the Norris family’s apartment began to leak. Y/N was flustered, juggling baby Maebry and Noah’s endless stream of questions about superheroes. As Lando was in the middle of a several hour long conference call with his team but after a quick call from Y/N Jake showed up at the door with a toolbox and a grin.

“Looks like you’ve got a bit of a plumbing emergency,” Jake said, his eyes sparkling with a mix of confidence and charm. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this. I’m basically a part-time plumber, part-time superhero.”

Y/N looked relieved and grateful. “Thank you, Jake. I was about to call a professional but with everything going on, I didn’t know where to start.”

“Well, if you ever need a plumber who doubles as a handyman and a personal charm specialist, you know where to find me,” Jake winked as he rolled up his sleeves.

Lando, who had heard his neighbors voice and instantly decided to end the call early, watched from the doorway, irritation simmering as he saw Jake confidently take charge. Ah, so now Jake’s the neighborhood hero with a toolbox. Does he have a signature catchphrase too? “Plumbing problems? Jake to the rescue!”

As Jake worked on the sink he chatted with Y/N, occasionally tossing flirtatious comments over his shoulder. “You know, Y/N, I think your sink is as stubborn as I am when it comes to giving up. But don’t worry, I’m pretty good at convincing things to go my way.”

Y/N chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “Well, I’m glad you’re so determined. We’d be lost without you.”

Jake looked up with a smile that was anything but casual. “I’d say you’re pretty lucky to have me around. Not just for fixing sinks but for making sure you have someone to brighten your day.”

Lando stood just outside the kitchen, feeling like he was witnessing a live performance of “How to Steal Your Wife 101.” Great, now he’s the king of flirting while unclogging pipes. What’s next? A serenade with a plunger in hand?

Jake finished fixing the sink and looked at Y/N. “All done! If you need anything else, whether it’s a helping hand or just someone to talk to, you know I’m just next door.”

Y/N thanked Jake profusely and he headed out with a casual wave, leaving Lando to confront the situation with a stiff smile.

As days went by, Lando’s jealousy simmered. He noticed how Jake seemed to be everywhere at all times. It felt like Jake had become a permanent fixture in their lives while Lando was relegated to a supporting role.

One evening, after Jake had joined Y/N and Noah for a “family movie night” in the communal lounge, Lando, who had been busy working out, decided to address his frustrations. He plopped down next to Y/N, attempting to sound casual but failing miserably. “So, what did you guys watch tonight?” he asked, his tone teetering between curiosity and annoyance.

“Oh, Jake brought over a bunch of movies. We watched ‘The Incredibles.’ Jake’s kids love it and Noah had a blast.”

Lando forced a smile, his mind racing. Jake’s the movie night savior now too. Next thing you know, he’ll be building a playhouse and teaching Noah how to ride a bike.

Y/N reached out and touched his arm reassuringly, clearly seeing the jealousy in her husband’s eyes. “Lando, you don’t have to worry. It’s just that Jake’s been around a lot because he’s been so helpful. We really appreciate him but you know we miss you a lot.”

Despite Y/N’s reassurances Lando’s jealousy festered. One evening, as Lando returned home from another exhausting day, his frustration peaked and he decided it was time to have a serious talk.

“Y/N, can we talk for a minute?” Lando asked, his voice tight.

Y/N looked up, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. “Sure, what’s up?”

Lando led her to a quieter corner of the apartment so the kids wouldn’t hear them. “It’s about Jake. I’ve noticed that he’s been around a lot lately, helping with everything from the plumbing to entertaining Noah.”

“Yes, he has been very helpful. Why?”

Lando took a deep breath, trying to control his irritation. “I’m not just talking about him being helpful. It seems like he’s also been... flirting with you. I’ve seen him make these comments and it’s starting to really bother me.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she took a step back. “Flirting? Lando, are you serious? Jake’s just being friendly. He’s not trying to do anything inappropriate.”

“Friendly?” Lando ran a hand through his hair, his frustration spilling over. “He’s practically moving in on our family. I saw him fixing the sink and making those comments. It’s like he’s trying to be more than just a neighbor.”

Y/N’s face softened with concern. “Lando, I appreciate that you’re feeling this way but you need to trust me. We’re friends with him and it doesn’t mean anything more than that.”

Lando’s mind raced as he thought about confronting Jake directly but he didn’t want Y/N to feel like he didn’t trust her. Fine, maybe I have to take a different approach…

Determined to reclaim his place in his family’s life Lando began devising a plan. If they moved to a new house, he reasoned, they could start fresh and put some distance between themselves and Jake’s frequent presence. He dived into real estate listings, focused to find them the perfect house, far away from any neighbors.

This one’s got a huge backyard. Perfect for, I don’t know, playing hide-and-seek without accidentally finding Jake. And look at this one, a home office! Finally, a place to escape from all the well-meaning neighbors.

A few days later Lando broached the topic with Y/N. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” he said, leaning against the kitchen counter like he was about to reveal a major plot twist in a thriller, “maybe it’s time for us to find a new place. Something with a bit more room. What do you think?”

Y/N looked up, her expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. “Really? I thought we were just starting to get settled here.”

“I know,” Lando nodded, attempting to sound casual, “but with Maebry and everything, I think a bigger space might be nice. Plus, it’d give us a chance to get away from the hustle and bustle of apartment living.”

Y/N considered his suggestion, her gaze thoughtful. “Well, I suppose it would be nice to have more room and we’ve talked about wanting a bigger place eventually.”

Lando’s plan was falling into place like a perfectly timed pit stop. He spent the next few weeks visiting houses, each one carefully chosen to seem like the ultimate family paradise. He made every decision appear practical and thoughtful, crafting the narrative that the new house was the best move for their family.

When he finally found the perfect house Lando prepared to break the news to Noah and Y/N with a level of enthusiasm that bordered on theatrical. “Guess what, guys? We’re moving to a new house! It’s going to be amazing, more space for all of us!”

Noah’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Really, Dad? Will it have a big backyard?”

“Absolutely,” Lando said, nodding vigorously. “A huge backyard where you can play all the time.”

“I’m excited about the move, too,” Y/N directed at her husband, “but you know, we’re going to miss Jake. He’s been such a great friend.”

Lando smiled, though his mind was already racing with thoughts of fewer interruptions from their former neighbor. Yes, yes, we will totally miss him!

Lando couldn’t help but chuckle as he imagined Jake’s future antics, perhaps starting a new superhero club in his own apartment. For now, though, Lando was content with the knowledge that in this new house he was firmly back in the driver’s seat of his family’s life.

________

AN: To both Anons, I hope you like it and if not let me know and I can rewrite 😊🫶

Taglist: @eloriis @pacifierbby @landossainz @littlegrapejuice @barcelonaloverf1life @poppyflower-22 @itsjustfranzi @vickykazuya @sltwins

[madebycloud]

Melting

wednesday addams x fem!reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you went trick or treating with your girlfriend. warnings/themes: fluff, soft!wednesday (ooc eheh), halloween, trick-or-treating, making out words: 1.8k

'Tis the witching season! 

The whole neighborhood is in a festive mood, with ghouls and ghosts lurking around, kids dressed up as their favorite or the scariest characters. 

Now, there's someone who couldn't care less about all the hoopla. 

You know Wednesday doesn't like to be all sunshine and rainbows, but secretly, you've always wished she would let her guard down and have some fun. 

“It's overrated,” she scoffs. But if there's one thing that can sway her, it's you. 

The nostalgia. You missed those carefree days when your only worry was scoring as much candy as possible in one night. And now you have the perfect opportunity to go back to your child self and relive those memories. 

“Pleeeeeeaaaaase Wednesday,” you whine, dropping to your knees and clasping your hands in front of her. 

She doesn't bat an eye. She just continues to write, her fingers moving across the typewriter. 

“Please baby, please love, please,” you try again, pulling out all the stops—cute silly nicknames, puppy dog eyes that you know she secretly adores. “It'll be super fun.” 

Finally, she stops writing. She lifts her head and turns to face you. She pauses for a long moment, considering your plea. “Fine. But only on one condition,” she starts. “I know it's important to you—so I'll indulge your request. This is just a one-time thing. We won't be making this a habit.” 

“Just... once?” 

“Just once,” she repeats. 

You think for a moment. “...okay.” You nod. “But I'll choose the costume.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Fine, no funny business. Let's make this quick and clean, understood?” 

“Understood.” You grinned.

—

“Hey there, Mario!” you exclaim with an exaggerated Italian accent while waving your hands around, trying to mimic how he does it. “It's-a-me, Luigi, your lovable sidekick!” 

“It's-a-me, Luigi? I don't know which I hate more—my ridiculous costume or your ridiculous sense of humor.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at the garish plumber's costume she was forced to wear. She even had to wear a fake mustache. “I can't believe I let you convince me to wear this ridiculous costume.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the daggers she was sending your way. “Don't worry, no one will recognize you as Wednesday with this get-up.” You winked, but she was having none of it. “Besides, this is just a 'one-time' thing, right?”

She groaned inwardly. “Just make sure you carry this, you have a stronger arm.” With a huff, she hands you the pumpkin. “After all, you're the one who suggested this fiasco, so the least you could do is carry the stupid thing.”

Her hand snaked around your wrist, her grip was so tight you could feel it even through your gloves. 

You both made your way to Jericho, the streets were alive with kids in crazy costumes running around, laughing and shouting as they made their way to different houses. The streets are lined with jack-o'-lanterns and spider webs. 

Suddenly, you spot a house that looks amazing. There are a few children waiting outside, excitedly chattering as they anticipate a chance to fill their buckets with candy.

“Let's try that one,” you say, pointing to the house. “They look like they're giving out some good treats.”

Wednesday just nods and crosses her arms, not seeming interested in going with you to get candies. “I'll just stay here,” she insists.

“Are you sure?” you ask, pausing to look at her for a moment.

She simply nods, waiting for you to get your candies. You give her a quick smile and head towards the house. 

You ring the doorbell and wait for someone to answer. A woman with a warm smile opens the door.

“Trick or treat!” you say, holding your pumpkin out.

However, the woman looks at you with disdain. “Aren't you a little too old for this?”

The smile slips from your face as you realize what she means. But before you can say anything else, she closes the door in your face. You stand there, stunned, staring at the closed door. 

That was rude.

You returned to Wednesday, your shoulders slumping as you held up your empty pumpkin.

She looks at you with an eyebrow raised, as if to ask what happened.

You scratch the back of your neck and frown. She could almost see the smoke coming out of your ears. “She... she said I was too old for this.”

You can tell she's angry at the way you were treated, and you secretly hope she doesn't plan on getting back at the woman for her rudeness. She can't believe the audacity of that woman, as if there's an age limit for having fun.

Still, you don't let the incident put a damper on the rest of your night.

“It's fine, there's still a lot of houses we can try again,” you say, grabbing her arms and looking around for another house to approach.

But people keep telling you that you're too old for Halloween and refuse to give you candy.

Wednesday senses your disappointment and starts coming up with elaborate plans to avenge the people who have denied you treats. She seems determined to make them pay for their deeds, yet you keep trying to convince her to just move on and keep searching for sweets.

Just as you were about to give up, you came across a house with the porch light off, but you could hear giggling coming from inside. 

This time, Wednesday joins you in trick-or-treating.

Together, you knock on the door and a person in a ghost costume stands in the doorway, holding a bowl of candy. 

“Trick or treat,” you say, holding out your pumpkin for a sweet.

Wednesday's stare serves as a warning to the person not to disappoint you or suffer the consequences.

The man hesitates before finally grabbing a handful of candy from the bowl and thrusting it into your pumpkin, his hands shaking with fear.

You thank them, and Wednesday gives you a smile as you walk away. “See? Things aren't so bad after all.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes. “Let's just keep going,” she says, before pushing you forward towards the next house.

—

You were walking back from trick-or-treating, your pumpkin filled to the brim with sweets and goodies. 

“Let's go back,” Wednesday mumbled as she walked alongside you, still holding onto your hand. Her hand slipped into your biceps, yet she hardly even noticed.

You nod, prepared to return home. However, before you can leave, you hear a voice from behind you. 

“Wednesday Addams?!” the boy says in shock, recognizing her beneath the Mario costume. 

“Oh, for Christ's sake,” Wednesday muttered under her breath. She couldn't believe someone had recognized her in her stupid, ridiculous Mario costume. She could swear in her life that she's never felt so stupid.

You turned to see a boy dressed in a brightly colored insect costume, his antennae bobbing as he waved at both of you. “Hey Eugene!” 

Wednesday narrows her eyes. “What are you doing here, Eugene?”

“I came to get some candy!” He replied eagerly, his eyes sparkling, but then his eyes widened. “Wait... is that really you... Wednesday?” he asks, taking a step forward. 

Wednesday clenches her jaw and you stifle a laugh, amused by her reaction. You offer Eugene some candy from your pumpkin, and he excitedly accepts it, thanking you.

“Eugene, can you take a picture of us?” you request, handing him your phone. 

Wednesday snapped her head in your direction, her eyebrows furrowed as she glared at you. She's just about lost it. She swore in her mind that she would never take a picture wearing this ridiculous costume.

You flung your arm around her and gave a peace sign as Eugene held up your phone. You chuckle and give Wednesday's waist a reassuring squeeze.

“Three, two...”

Wednesday knows she will be miserable. But she looked at your smile and realized that, despite her aversion to the costume, she didn't want to ruin your fun. So she reluctantly struck a peace sign, hoping that no one would recognize her under that ridiculous mustache.

“One!” the flash flickers, and the photo is captured. 

She couldn't deny the warmth in her chest as she watched the picture saved to your phone.

—

You realized that your feet were starting to feel tired after walking so much. Eager to rest your tired legs, the two of you made your way over to a nearby bench, tucked away amidst the shadows of the trees. 

Wednesday is now holding the pumpkin-shaped basket full of sweets while you gaze up at the stars in the sky. She eventually pulled out one of the candies and popped it into her mouth.

“Taste good?” You turn to look at her. 

“Tastes like poison,” she teases before popping it into her mouth.

You can't help but stare at her lips. Why did her lips look like they were begging to be kissed?

“Do you want one?” Wednesday asks, seemingly reading your thoughts. 

You were almost too stunned to speak, but a soft “yes” managed to escape your lips. 

Small smile formed on her lips, as though she knew exactly what she was doing. She offered the candy before you swallowed it whole, savoring the sweetness on your tongue. 

A glance at her lips and then back at her eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Before you knew it, Wednesday had leaned in to share the sweet with you, her lips soft and supple on yours, the taste of candy still lingering on your tongue.

When you finally pulled away, you were left weak in the knees and breathless.

Wednesday's lips part slightly, her breath brushing against your cheek. You lean in again, but she stops you with a gentle hand on your chest.

“One condition,” she whispers.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“I get to choose the costume next year.”

“We're going to trick or treat again next year?” you ask, grinning. “Fine,” you concede, “your choice of costume next year then.”

With Wednesday's permission granted, you lean in for another kiss, this time lingering even longer than before. Your lips lock together in a sensual dance. 

But you pull away, teasing her. “Wait.”

“What now?”

“Well, I was thinking we could dress up as Remy and his human companion, Alfredo from Ratatouille.”

Wednesday's eyes narrow, clearly annoyed at your choice.

“Okay, I admit, that was a terrible idea, but what about SpongeBob and Patrick? or I can go as Squidward, and we can be rivals instead,” you suggest, desperate to find a costume she'll actually like.

She rolls her eyes, but you could already see the corner of her lips twitching up into a small smile. “You did not just suggest that.”

“Oh yes I did.”

“I'm not dressing up as a rat with a chef's hat next year, that's for sure. And you're not going to make me dress up as a sponge either.”

You smirk. “Maybe not, but I'll still find a way to make you dress up as something ridi—”

Before you finish your sentence, Wednesday's lips are on yours once more, drowning out your words. Her fingers glide down your jaw as she draws you in closer.

“That's it,” she whispers between kisses. “You're stuck with me now.”

And you wouldn't want it any other way.

note: me

[play-now-my-lord]

"Millionaire" is a fun word because a million dollars is not actually that much money anymore but there's centuries of mixed scorn and admiration baked into how people talk about millionaires. A low-energy lawyer or an ambitious plumber could be worth a million dollars in 2023. There are neighborhoods in 2023 where John Jacob Astor could not, with his net wealth in nominal dollars, afford to buy a house. Millionaires are the ones who always talk about "the top one per cent" because they're the top 25% and the world revolves around them but not quite hard enough

[polyamorouspunk]

The Homebound’s-Guide to Being Punk

These are some suggestions for people that for whatever reason don’t have their own money, are dependent on other people for rides, are generally homebodies, or anything similar.

When you can, thrift your clothes! A lot of times you shop wherever someone brings you or wherever someone gets you a gift card to, but if you can, try thrifting!

Research a topic you’re interested in, and try finding an organization that is doing some good in that area, and bring some attention to them!

Support smaller artists by doing things like reblogging their art, listening to local bands in your area on a music streaming service, or reading books by local authors.

Hire local people to do odd jobs! Local plumbers, local electricians, etc. The decision might be out of your hands, but it’s worth bringing up to whoever is in charge.

If someone brings you to a store, bring a backpack and consider getting some stuff that you wouldn’t normally pay for, and consider having someone donate it for you, or donate it yourself if someone is willing to give your a ride someplace you can.

Try and get your produce and baked goods from local sellers like farmer’s markets, country markets, etc. by asking people to shop there/take you shopping there instead.

Create what you can around your living area for local wildlife, even if it’s just leaving a bowl of water out for birds to bathe in and drink from.

Plant your own fruits/vegetables if possible.

Establish relationships with the people in your neighborhood.

Call/email your local representatives/politicians on topics you want them to vote for/against.

Do craft projects at home like making blankets or dolls or clothes that can be donated.

[plumbers-of-pittsburgh]

Tips to Avoid Costly Plumbing Repairs by Neighborhood_Plumbing

Neighborhood Plumbing believes in empowering homeowners to take proactive measures to avoid costly plumbing repairs. Our expert plumbers in Pittsburgh have compiled valuable tips to help you prevent plumbing issues and save on unnecessary expenses. From regular maintenance and mindful water usage to proper drain care and temperature control, these tips will guide you in maintaining a healthy plumbing system. Trust Neighborhood Plumbing for reliable plumbing services and expert assistance when needed.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

You can’t shop your way out of a monopoly

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TUCSON (Mar 9-10), then SAN FRANCISCO (Mar 13), Anaheim, and more!

If you're running a business, you can either invest at being good at your business, or good at Google SEO. Choose the former and your customers will love you – but they won't be able to find you, thanks to the people who choose the latter. And if you're going to invest in top-notch SEO, why bother investing in quality at all?

For more than a decade, Google has promised that it would do something about "lead gens" – services that spoof Google into thinking that they are local businesses, pushing down legit firms on both regular search and Google Maps (these downranked businesses invested in quality, not SEO, remember). Search for a roofer, a plumber, an electrician, or a locksmith (especially a locksmith), and most or all of the results will be lead-gens. They'll take your call, pretend to be a local business, and then call up some half-qualified bozo to come out and charge you four times the going rate for substandard work:

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

Some of them just take your money and they "go back to the shop for a tool" and never return:

https://www.riverfronttimes.com/news/when-a-fake-business-used-a-real-st-louis-address-things-got-weird-32087998

Google has been promising to fix this since the late aughts, and to be fair, it's a little better. There was once a time when a map of Manhattan showed more locksmiths than taxis:

https://blumenthals.com/blog/2009/02/18/google-maps-proves-more-locksmiths-in-nyc-than-cabs/

But GMaps is trapped in the enshittification squeeze. On the one hand, the company wants to provide a good and reliable map. On the other hand, the company makes money selling "ads" that are actually payola, where a business can pay to get to the top of the listings or get displayed on the map itself. Zoom out of Google's map of central London and the highlighted landmarks are a hilarious mix of "organic" and paid listings: the British Museum, Buckingham Palace, the Barbican, the London Eye…and a random oral and maxillofacial clinic in the financial district:

https://twitter.com/dylanbeattie/status/1764711667663831455

Hell of a job "organizing the world's information and making it universally accessible and useful," Big G. Doubtless the average Londoner finds the presence of this clinic super helpful in orienting themselves relative to the map on their phone screens, and it's a real service to tourists hoping to hit all the major landmarks.

It's not just Maps users who'd noticed the rampant enshittification. Even the original design team is so horrified they're moved to speak out about the moral injury they experience seeing the product they worked so hard on turned into a giant pile of shit:

https://twitter.com/elizlaraki/status/1727351922254852182

Now, when it comes to locksmiths, I'm lucky. My neighborhood in Burbank includes the wonderful Golden State Lock and Safe, which has been in business since 1942:

https://www.goldenstatelock.com/

But you wouldn't know it from searching GMaps for a locksmith near me. That search turns up a long list of scams:

https://www.google.com/maps/search/locksmith/@34.1750451,-118.369948,14z/data=!3m1!4b1?entry=ttu

It also turns up plenty of Keyme machines – these are private-equity backed, self-serve key-cutting machines placed in grocery stores. Despite Keyme calling itself a "locksmith," it's just a badly secured, overcaptilized, enshittification-bound system for collecting and retaining shapefiles for the keys to millions of homes, cross-referenced with billing information that will make it easy for the eventual hackers to mass-produce keys for all those poor suckers' houses.

(Hilariously, Keyme claims to be an "AI" company):

https://www.businesswire.com/news/home/20200114005194/en/KeyMe-Raises-35-Million-to-Further-Its-Mission-of-Building-the-Premier-Locksmith-Services-Company-in-the-Nation

But despite the fact that you can literally see the Golden State storefront from Google Streetview, Google Maps claims to have no knowledge of it. Instead, Streetview labels Golden State "Keyme" – and displays a preview showing a locksmith using a tool to break into a jeep (I'd dearly love to know how the gadget next to the Slurpee machine at the 7-Eleven will drive itself to your jeep and unlock the door for you when you lose your keys):

https://www.google.com/maps/place/KeyMe+Locksmiths/@34.1752624,-118.3487531,3a,75y,350.19h,90.21t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1ssHrtqjqvgFir3NBauMy13Q!2e0!7i16384!8i8192!4m15!1m8!3m7!1s0x80c2959cd65dbb1b:0x4b3744cf87492a71!2sBurbank+Blvd+%26+N+Hollywood+Way,+Burbank,+CA+91505!3b1!8m2!3d34.1750025!4d-118.3493484!16s%2Fg%2F11f37_3lq8!3m5!1s0x80c2951cedbf4d39:0xe8ff9fd5872e66e9!8m2!3d34.1755176!4d-118.349!16s%2Fg%2F11mw7nr4fx?entry=ttu

It's pretty clear to me what's going on here. Keyme has hired some SEO creeps and/or paid off Google, flooding the zone with listings for its machines. Meanwhile, Golden State, being merely good at locksmithing, has lost the SEO wars. Perhaps Golden State could shift some of its emphasis from being good at locksmithing in order to get better at SEO, but this is a race that will always be won by the firm that puts the most into SEO, which will always be the firm that puts the least into quality.

Whenever I write about this stuff, people inevitably ask me which search engine they should use, if not Google?

And there's the rub.

Google used predatory pricing and anticompetitive mergers to acquire a 90% search market-share. The company spends more than $26b/year buying default position in every place where you might possibly encounter a new search engine. This created the "kill zone" – the VC's term of art for businesses that no one will invest in, because Google makes sure that no one will ever find out it exists:

https://www.theverge.com/23802382/search-engine-google-neeva-android

That's why the only serious competitor to Google is Bing, another Big Tech company (Bing is also the primary source of results on Duckduckgo, which is why DDG sometimes makes exceptions for Microsoft's privacy-invading tracking):

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DuckDuckGo#Controversies

Google tells us that the quid-pro-quo of search monopolization is search excellence. The hundreds of billions it makes every year through monopoly control gives it the resources it needs to fight spammers and maintain search result quality. Anyone who's paid attention recently knows that this is bullshit: Google search quality is in free-fall, across all its products:

https://downloads.webis.de/publications/papers/bevendorff_2024a.pdf

But Google doesn't seem to think it has a problem. Rather than devoting all its available resources to fighting botshit, spam and scams, the company set $80 billion dollars alight last year with a stock buyback that was swiftly followed with 12,000 layoffs, followed by multiple subsequent rounds of layoffs:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

The scams that slip through Google's cracks are sometimes nefarious, but just as often they're decidedly amateurish, the kind of thing that Google could fix by throwing money at the problem, say, to validate that new ads for confirmed Google merchants come from the merchant's registered email addresses and go to the merchant's registered website:

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

Search is a capital intensive business, and there are real returns to scale, as the UK Competition and Market Authority's excellent 2020 study describes:

https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/media/5fe4957c8fa8f56aeff87c12/Appendix_I_-_search_quality_v.3_WEB_.pdf

But Google doesn't seem to think that its search needs that $80 billion to fight the spamwars. That's the thing about monopolists, they get complacent. As Lily Tomlin's "Ernestine the AT&T operator" used to say, "We don't care, we don't have to, we're the phone company."

That's why I'm so excited about the DOJ Antitrust Division monopolization case against Google. Trusting one company to "organize the world's information and make it universally accessible and useful," was a failure:

https://www.justice.gov/opa/pr/justice-department-sues-google-monopolizing-digital-advertising-technologies

I understand why people want to know which search engine they should use instead of Google, and I get why, "There aren't any good search engines" is such an unsatisfactory answer. I understand why each fresh round of printer-company fuckery prompts people to ask "which printer should I get?" and I understand why "There are only six major printer companies and they're all suffering from end-stage enshittification" isn't what anyone wants to hear.

We want to be able to vote with our wallets, because it's so much faster and more convenient than voting with our ballots. But the vote-with-your-wallet election is rigged for the people with the thickest wallets. Try as hard as you'd like, you just can't shop your way out of a monopoly – that's like trying to recycle your way out of the climate emergency. Systemic problems need systemic solutions – not individual ones.

That's why the new antitrust matters so much. The answer to monopolies is to break up companies, block and unwind mergers, ban deceptive and unfair conduct. "Caveat emptor" is the scammer's motto. You shouldn't have to be an expert on lead gen scams to hire a locksmith without getting ripped off.

There are good products and services out there. Earlier this year, we decided to install a (non-networked) programmable pushbutton lock. I asked Deviant Ollam – whom I know from Defcon's Lockpicking Village – for a recommendation and he suggested the Schlage FE595:

https://www.schlage.com/en/home/products/FE595PLYFFFFLA.html

I liked it so much I bought another one for my office door. Eric from Golden State Lock and Safe installed it while I wrote this blog-post. It's great. I recommend both of 'em – 10/10, would do business again.

Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/05/the-map-is-not-the-territory/#vapor-locksmith

Image: alicia rae (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Kehole_Red.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

--

Budhiargomiko (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wasteland.jpg

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

[batneko]

Okay SO

in this world "monster" species like koopas are heavily discriminated against. The world is modern and theoretically democratic, but it's all but impossible for them to find jobs and places to live outside the communities they've built for themselves. Bowser started as, and still thinks of himself as, a Fixer. He's the guy you go to when the cops won't help (because the cops never help).

but a guy's still gotta make a living, so he gets "donations" from the local businesses, and a percentage of any less-than-legal enterprises. Gambling, underground fight rings, sale of good that "fell off the truck." That kind of thing.

and while his authority in the neighborhood comes from respect, his authority outside it has to come from fear. People need to know that messing with the koopa district is more trouble than it's worth, or the neighborhood will be eaten alive. If that means making an example of somebody... so be it.

Mario and Luigi didn't know any of this when they came to this world. They don't have any of the prejudices, but they didn't initially have any reason to question what they're told, either. My thinking for how Luigi and Bowser got to know each other is they'd had run-ins before, none of which went well, but Mario and Luigi eventually learned that when Bowser caused trouble it was usually because it was the only way to get serious problems dealt with. When he kidnaps Peach (I'm not sure what her official position would be) and shouts "someone will die!" during the fight, it's because half the koopa district had been without power for two months and winter is coming.

Then one day Mario is kidnapped and the scene is really obviously staged to make it look like koopas did it. But when Luigi points that out, no one in authority will listen and refuses to investigate any other angles. Desperate, Luigi goes to Bowser. He's a fixer, right? And surely he won't want his people to be framed.

Aaaaand blah blah somehow this leads to them falling in love idk.

They both have blue collar jobs (Luigi is still a plumber, obvs, and Bowser technically owns a moving company), but Bowser likes himself and his associates to dress well. It's about Presentation. People need to be able to look at him and see he's a respectable gentleman who appreciates the finer things. It's just that "finer things" in this case includes cute plumber boyfriends.

[star-quill]

nsfw where the reader is slightly younger than quill (as in late 20s early 30s) and they're neighbors who fuck VERY OFTEN, but there's no title so often at neighborhood events she flirts with neighbors and acts as if her and quill don't fuck and they're neighbors, but she gets extremely jealous when he talks to another female.

just v into jealous!peter smut hehee

oh😖😵‍💫

you don't even know how you and him started sleeping together. it just kinda, happened. you first met him at someone's birthday party, flirting a little when you went inside to refill your water. he came in to grab a towel, having spilled his beer down himself.

the spill dried up quickly but his t-shirt still reeked of beer. he hadn't turned to face you yet, not really noticing you were there and so he peeled his shirt off. patting his stomach dry, he turned around to find the washing machine and saw you standing there, glass in hand.

"hi.. i uhm.. need in the washing machine.." you looked down realising you were standing in front of it.

"oh.. sorry, here let me put it in.." you took the towel from him and shoved it in. he just nodded at you before heading back outside. you saw him say something to some guy outside before he left. you didn't even look at anything else but his fave but images of him were flashing in your head—images of his body, how built and large he was, images of his body pressed up against yours, images of him pulling down his—

"hey.. can u hear me?" you blinked a few times, looking at one of your friends standing in front of you.

"sorry.. must've zoned out.."

"c'mon.. they're serving up food now.."

the party lasted for a while and peter came back a while after the food was being served—he told you his name after he apologised for kinda freaking you out in the kitchen. you spoke to him for most of the night, before he walked you home. perhaps you shouldn't have invited him in but then he had you lying on the couch, legs wrapped around his waist as he filled you up. that one time became many times, him coming over just to fuck. he craved you, craved the feeling of you around him. very often he would turn up unannounced.

your complaint of "peter.. the plumber's fixing my kitchen sink, can you come back later?" was met with "you don't think you can be quiet?". your complaint of "peter.. my parents are visiting soon.." was met with "don't worry, i'll be quick..".

but to both of you, it was just sex. nothing more, just neighbours, maybe friends, who slept together occasionally. so why is it you got jealous when he flirted with someone else at the barbecue he was hosting. he was manning the grill and she was fawning all over him, giggling at everything he said and feeling up his arms. and that fucker was drinking it all in, loving the attention he was getting. you couldn't be jealous, you weren't together, but you were absolutely seething with rage. but you knew what he'd be like if you went over there too.

"hey peter.. so uhm, how long will the sausages be, hm?" you looked up at him, batting your eyelashes a few times.

"'bout.. 3 minutes or so.. so get yourself ready, yeah?" he didn't even look at you, just focused on turning the meat round. the other woman had long gone and you just smiled at peter and walked off, sneaking inside and waiting on the sofa. he came in five minutes later, standing beside the couch.

"didn't you see i was talking to someone out there?"

"i did.. but she was annoying me.."

"christ.. we're not together, you can't go getting pissed off when i flirt with someone else.."

"but.." you knelt up on the couch, hands on the arm as you pouted at him. he just grabbed your chin, thumb rubbing over your lips.

"my baby gettin' jealous hm?"

"mmhm.."

"in my room, now.. go. i gotta head outside but i'll be back for you in a minute.. be ready."

you went to wait for him on his bed, but he took well more than a minute. you just lay down, hugging one of his pillows and waited for 10 minutes before you gave up and left. didn't even say goodbye as you went out the front door, walking back home. you knew you couldn't get so hung up on him when it was nothing more than casual sex. but he was occupying every waking thought you had.

you stuck an old movie on and lay down on your sofa, hoping it would make you fall asleep faster. after around an hour, your doorbell went. you opened the door to find peter there, a plate covered in aluminium foil in his hands.

"you uhm.. i didn't see you leave, and you missed the food.."

"i'm not in the mood, thanks for the offer though.."

"hey wait, i want to apologise.."

"i waited for you, you never came.."

"no.. but i can make you come now though.."

you just rolled your eyes.

"no?"

"maybe.." you stood back and let him in, shutting the door as he went to your kitchen and set the food down. you followed in after, standing next to him as he rested against the kitchen countertop.

"did you actually get jealous today?"

"well.. yeah.. she was all over you, peter.. don't you get jealous when i flirt with other guys?"

"damn right i do, you're telling me these other guys are gonna be able to make you feel as good as i make you feel? no way.."

then his hand was around your waist and he stepped in front of you, lifting you onto the counter.

"nobody can make you come, except me.. understand?"

"mmhm.." you just smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning in to kiss him. he pulled away after a few seconds, dropping his head to kiss your neck, leaving little bites here and there.

"gotta make sure everyone knows you're my girl.."

"your girl?"

"yeah.. my girl.."

after that, you and him were still never technically exclusive but he still called you "my girl" or "my baby"—and every time he said it, it made your heart flutter. he'd always say it after he fucked you on your sofa, and then you'd drape yourself over his thigh, wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him lazily until his hand went to grab your waist and rub you against his bare thigh, getting you off once more. then it became "my pretty baby" or "my pretty lil' girl" as you came all over his leg, sighing into his neck as your orgasm washed over you. maybe one day you'd discuss the full extent of your relationship but right now, you were content with what you had with him.

[yellow-computer-mouse]

im going to throw my human au at you all. you have been warned /silly

first off names! just main cast bc i don't wanna do anyone else

Qibli -> Quinn

Winter -> Winter! He gets to keep his name

Moon -> Moon! She also gets to keep hers

Turtle -> Tyrell

Kinkajou -> Kristen

Peril -> Phoenix

everything else is the same as my adoption au (@wof-adoption-au)

Quinn's a streamer! He's not famous or anything, he just does silly streams and drags winter into it sometimes lol

Winter is australian. he gets bullied relentlessly

Winter's obsession is isopods (real)

Tyrell has a cat! Her name's Misty and she is beautiful (what she looks like is up to interpretation (i have an idea but idc that much i'm not attached))

they're all college students

as a bonus here's a (very inaccurate) character bio for Tyrell (it's so fucking funny oh my god)

[ID: A screenshot of a web page reading "Tyrell Jones is a 21-year-old chorus actor who enjoys watching sport, sailing, and planking. He is stable and creative, but can also be very rude and a bit untidy. He is British who defines himself as straight. He didn't finish school. Physically, Tyrell is in pretty good shape. He is tall with bronze skin, brown hair, and blue eyes. He grew up in an upper class neighborhood. He was raised in a happy family home with two loving parents. He is currently single. His most recent romance was with a plumber called Dione Wisdom Heath, who was the same age as him. They broke up because Dione wanted to be with somebody who took more risks. Tyrell's best friend is a chorus actor called Gawain Arnold. They have a very fiery friendship. He also hangs around with Alexavier Dallas and Channing Jordan. They enjoy spreading fake news on Facebook together." End ID]

sobbing bc the fiery friendship could just be peril

FAKE NEWS ON FACEBOOK