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gurugirl · 27 days

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The Handyman

Summary: When you inherit your aunt's estate after she passes away, you hire Harry to fix up the old house but that's not all he winds up being good for.

A/N: This was requested! Also if you'd like to see early access content like this (plus more exclusive content) consider joining my Patreon! xoxo

Word Count: 10.9k

Warning: smut, mentions of a close relative dying, and tons of sweetness

When you pulled up the long dirt driveway to the old estate you used to spend your summers at, it was as if you could feel your aunt Gayla’s presence all around you again. You could remember running through the fields and the trees and dawdling your afternoons away on the big wraparound porch with extra sweet lemonade and book after book.

Your aunt would have her old radio playing with records or cassette tapes, volume turned up so loud you’d be out climbing a tree a quarter mile off and could still hear the sounds of Credence Clearwater Revival or Stevie Nicks crooning over the distance. When the sun would begin to dip in the sky, oranges and pinks coloring in where it was bright blue just before, she’d change the record to Bill Withers or maybe even Louis Armstrong and she’d call you in by screaming at the top of her lungs that it was time to eat. But when you’d arrive she’d pull you into her arms and dance with you and tell you how important it was to read, write, dance, and love.

And everything she did and the way she lived her life had the biggest influence on yours these days. She had been your favorite person, next to your mother of course. But your mother died when you were 17 and your aunt filled in to help raise you when your dad was overwhelmed with the loss of his wife and trying to reign in a hormonal and emotional young woman. He tried his best but you knew it was lucky your aunt stepped up to help guide you into adulthood.

So it came as almost no surprise to anyone when your aunt passed and she left you everything she had. At the time you didn’t realize she had so much. At the reading of the will, it was just you and your father. The lawyer said you’d be inheriting her estate and every dime she had to her name. But when he read off the number, well, that part very much came as a surprise.

It was a life-changing number. And her old, huge house set on 16 acres in that old, small town was worth far more than you ever imagined it would be. You were advised to sell it at first. And you certainly considered it. What would you be needing with so much space all by yourself so far away from the big city you currently lived in? That money could just be piled on top of the already large sum she’d left you.

But the more you considered selling it the more you hated that idea. All the wonderful memories you had there, all that gorgeous space with expanses of marble and hardwood and tall trees and meadowland could be a sanctuary. It could be a place for you to live. To enjoy the large space, tall ceilings, and windows, the sunrises and sunsets… To play music loudly and dance in front of your oven as you baked muffins and write to your heart’s content.

It could certainly be far better than your studio apartment that cost nearly as much in rent as what you made working your ass off at the paper. You could move out of your rundown, mouse-infested building and fix up the old estate to your liking. You could quit your job and begin writing full-time like you always wanted. Your aunt’s house would be the perfect place to begin your new adventure. A refuge of peace. An oasis of your own to spark inspiration and creativity.

And so here you were, standing with the key in hand on the big front porch, old, rotted boards bending and cracking as you stepped up to the door to open it for the first time in years. When your aunt had fallen sick, she’d been transferred to the city to live with your father as she was unable to care for herself during the end of her life. You helped as often as possible. On Saturdays, you’d take her to the park to sit on the bench and watch the birds and the trees and you’d chat about the books you were reading and life. You did that every Saturday until she could no longer be moved from her bed. But you were always with her every Saturday, by her side and holding her hand until she had no more Saturdays left.

You felt a surge of emotion as you walked through the space. The old funky vintage chandelier that hung over the dining table was covered in cobwebs. When your aunt had it installed you helped her paint the little ceramic flowers in various shades of green and yellow. It had been all white at one time.

But it was the window that stretched along the wall that overlooked the back acreage that drew you closer. Pulling the dusty curtains aside, sunshine filled the room. Sheets covered the furniture that had all been left behind.

The whole place was yours. And you had a great feeling about this next phase in your life.

. . .

After a week of cleaning, working in the garden, peeling wallpaper down, having a new refrigerator and oven range installed as well as a washer and dryer for clothes, and attempting to tear out wooden boards from the front porch all by yourself, you’d hit a wall. It was clear you’d need help to get the house in tip-top shape.

Scouring the internet for handyman recommendations, you were left feeling quite hopeless. So you made a trip into town to talk to the owner of the hardware shop you met some days earlier when you were buying paint and tools. He had mentioned he knew someone who could help if you ever needed. A local man who took over his father’s business. You imagined there weren’t a lot of people willing to make the trip out to the small town and then even further out to the old house miles from the main road.

When you arrived, as you expected, the place was empty aside from Mr. George shuffling about behind the counter. When he spotted you his face lit up in a grin, “Miss Y/n! How can I help you this Thursday morning?”

“Hi, Mr. George. I was uh, wondering if I could get the number of that handyman you were telling me about? I think I’ve done all I can do by myself at this point. Some of the electricity needs rewiring, the boards in the porch are rotting away–“

“Say no more, my dear. I’ll call him right now,” he placed his hand over the phone receiver, “We’ll see if he can make some time today or tomorrow and if not, I’ll bet he can fit you in next week for a quote.”

“Next week?” You frowned.

“Well, he’s the only one who runs the business these days. His pop passed away a couple of months back so I’m assuming he might be a bit busy. Good guy, though. I wouldn’t recommend him if I didn’t think he’d do your aunt’s place justice.”

You nodded. That would have to be good enough you supposed. If not this week, next week you figured would be okay. Things were different in the small town than they were back in the big city. Life moved a bit slower and that was something you would just have to get used to.

Mr. George dialed the number he pulled up from his desktop Rolodex as you patiently waited to find out if the recommended handyman would be interested in helping you or not.

“Harry! My boy! How are you?” Mr. George spoke into the receive with a big smile.

“Yeah… I’m well too. Hey, look,” he glanced at you, “I’ve got a lovely young woman here who needs some help with her new house… yes. It’s that old mansion off Timbert. The one about a two miles from the main road… exactly. Gayla’s old place… It’s her niece, uh,” he cupped the receiver and looked at you with his brows raised as you spoke your name to him, “her name is Y/n.”

Seemed everyone in this town knew your aunt. You watched George scribble down something on a piece of scrap paper before sliding it over to you and began to make a little small talk with the man called Harry.

It was a number and the name of the company, Styles and Son. Mr. George pointed at the paper, and looked at you, “Write your number down here for me.”

You picked up the pen he used and wrote your number with your first and last name next to it, handing the paper back to him.

Mr. George tore off the section with your number and nodded at you, “Okay, ready for the number?”

He read it off to Harry before looking at you and holding out the receiver, “Wants to ask you a couple of questions.”

“Oh, sure,” you reached for the phone and stepped closer to the counter so you could put it to your ear, “Hello?”

“Hi. You’re Gayla’s niece?”

“Yes, sir. She recently passed and left the house to me and I wanted to fix it up a little.”

“My dad used to help Gayla out whenever she needed things done. I’ve never had the opportunity to see the inside but I’d like to come by maybe tomorrow afternoon when you have an hour or so to spare?”

“Sure! I’ll be home all day. Any time works for me.”

“Great. Let’s say around 2? I’ll give you a call before I head that way. George gave me your phone number, and make sure he gives you mine.”

“Oh yeah. He already did. I’ve got it written down here.”

“M’kay… well, I’ll see you tomorrow Y/n.”

“Sure! And thank you again!”

Mr. George took the phone from you and placed it into its cradle to hang up the call, “You know… Harry’s a single man. Bout your age. My wife says he’s a looker and I reckon you two might get along well.”

“Is that so?” You grinned at the store owner as you folded up Harry’s contact info and stuffed it into your pocket, “Appreciate this, Mr. George. So much. Truly.”

“Ahh, it’s nothin’. This small town is a close-knit community. We’re all here to help each other when we can.”

. . .

Instead of calling you, Harry texted when he was on his way over.

See you in half an hour. H

You smiled at the thought of finally getting some help in that big lonely house. Wiping the sweat from your forehead you climbed down the step ladder to freshen up a bit before Harry could arrive. You slid on a clean cotton dress, washed your hands and face, and then made some lemonade should he want anything to drink.

When Harry arrived you heard his truck clonking up the dirt driveway before you saw it. He’d been your first visitor so it was the first time you’d had the pleasure of hearing a vehicle driving toward your house (and didn’t it feel so weird to call it your house?). You watched out the window as dust kicked up from his tires. It was a big black truck. A decal on the side that read Styles and Son.

Walking onto your porch you waved to greet him as he stepped out, feet landing on the ground. His attire was simple. Jeans and a white t-shirt with a pocket at the front. Work boots. But what you couldn’t get over as he smiled and raised his big hand to wave back at you was how fit and broad he was. Tanned skin on his arms and tattoos up the length of one of them. Chestnut curls with touches of light brown and maybe blond hidden in the strands. He was tall and he was handsome.

“Y/n?” He smiled as he walked up the steps to your porch with his eyes on you. Green eyes.

“Yes! I’m Y/n,” you reached your hand out to him as he gripped it into his palm to shake.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve always wanted to check out Gayla’s house. Glad I’ve got the opportunity,” he looked down at the boards under his feet, “And first thing is,” he bent down and placed the heel of his palm into the wood, “this porch needs updating in a bad way.” He stood back up, soft green irises on you, “Feel how soft that is when you step over it?” He spoke as he demonstrated, pressing his foot into the floor of the porch.

You nodded, “Oh yeah. I already tore some of the boards out but I knew I couldn’t do all this on my own.”

Harry squinted at you and the way his eyes scraped down over your dress and to your feet then back up to your face had you tingling, “You tore out some boards on your own?” He nodded with an impressed look on his face.

Now you were feeling flustered. The sudden shift in temperature made it feel like your cotton panties were digging into your hips and your thighs too tight.

You laughed and shook your head, “Oh… I mean it wasn’t much. But…” you looked back up at him and watched as a lopsided smile took over his face, complete with a dimple, “You wanna come inside? See the place?”

“Absolutely.”

You pushed the front door in and let Harry pass through into the space. You watched him look all around and then walk toward the big front window and slide his hand over the wood frame, “Beautiful woodwork here,” he looked up toward the ceiling and then along the wall toward the archway into the dining area, “It looks like it’s probably throughout the house. We’ll be sure to keep this original,” he looked at you suddenly, “Unless you wanted to completely change all this. It’s up to you but I would suggest trying to maintain the existing features.”

“I would love to keep it original if possible. So… are you saying you’ll do this for me?”

Harry chuckled and ran his index finger under his nose, “Soon as I saw the place as I drove up the path to get here had my heart set on it. Of course, we’ll need to talk numbers and come to an agreement but I’m ready to start as soon as possible. What’s the electricity situation? Original too?” He looked up at the light sconce on the wall.

“I think it’s all original. Everything. Most likely all needs overhauled to bring it up to code. So… you don’t have other jobs you are committed to right now? Thought you were the only one?”

Harry raised his brows and looked back at you, “Hired a helper a couple weeks back. He can do all the odd jobs for me while I focus on this. Honestly, Y/n,” you scorched at the way he said your name so casually, “There ain’t tons of work around here. I usually have one or two small jobs a day. Garbage disposal repair, sodding a yard, shingle repair… we do bigger jobs too like tree stump removal, burst pipes, and things like that. One-offs usually.”

“Tree stump removal… you do all that?”

He nodded, “Yep. I do it all. Got the equipment from when my father was running the business. My dad and I were the only ones in town to do all this kind of stuff so we learned how to do just about everything.”

You showed Harry around the rest of the house and described what you thought you might want done. But watching Harry slide his hands over your baseboards and knock at the walls as he talked about what he’d do… you smiled and agreed with everything he said.

“I do want the wallpaper out, though. It’s a little too dated for my taste,” you ran your finger over the silk flower design wall covering and Harry put his palm over the wall and nodded, “We could look at other wallpaper if you wanted. Or were you just thinking paint?”

You bit your lip and leaned into the wainscoting, “Maybe a new wallpaper? What do you think is better?”

Harry mimicked your pose, placing his hip on the white wainscoting, and faced you, “There are some really high-quality wallpapers out there. In any pattern you can think of. Can also get them custom-made if you had the money for it. I’d get the wallpaper if I were you.”

You nodded, “I’ll be honest, Harry, my aunt left me a good bit of money and I’d like to restore the place with really nice quality things and finishes. Want it to look as beautiful here as it did the day it was built. I’m not too worried about how much it’ll all cost. Within reason of course.”

Harry pushed himself from the wall and clasped his hands together behind his back, “I’m really sorry for your loss by the way. Was a shock to everyone when we found out she passed.”

You nodded, “Yeah. I always thought she’d live forever. Spent so many summers here with her, climbing trees and dancing… just feels so weird that she’s gone now,” a small smile covered your face, “But also, I’m sorry to hear about your dad too. His recent passing.”

The smile fell from Harry’s face, “Did George tell you he passed?”

“He did. I’m sorry if bringing that up wasn’t–“

“No, it’s fine. I was about to tell you anyway. Hence the name of the business, Styles and Son. I’m the son part of it,” he grinned, “But yeah. He died and I took over the business. It’s been a struggle. I miss him but I think he’d be really pleased that I was getting the chance to fix this old place up.”

You offered Harry some lemonade and you both sat on the back porch together as you discussed what you wanted done first with the house. Of course, Harry already had a solid timeline in mind, he’d start with the electrical wiring and the rotten boards on the porch and make sure everything was up to code and safe before getting to the more superficial parts of the job. The garden and landscaping would come last.

Everything flowed so nicely with Harry. He was easy to talk to and you trusted that he knew what he was doing. And it didn’t hurt that his voice was soothing and deep and slow. You could listen to him talk about solid hardwood versus engineered hardwood all day long if he let you.

“Well, I’ll be heading out now I guess. Be back first thing in the morning and start on this porch.”

You walked him to his big truck and shook his hand again, thanking him for taking the job and feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional at everything.

Overwhelmed because Harry was so genuinely kind and you knew immediately you could trust him completely. Which just added to his charm and sex appeal. You really tried to push down the fact that he was so stunningly attractive because that wasn’t going to do you any good. And even though Mr. George told you he was single, you couldn’t imagine that was true. Someone as yummy-looking and kind-hearted as Harry? There was no way he wasn’t at least seeing someone.

But you were also emotional because you were finally going to get to see your aunt Gayla’s house restored to its original glory. It was going to be a real labor of love but it felt so good to be doing it. You had never felt so sure you were on the right path in life until that day. Until Harry arrived with his big truck and assured you that you’d get everything you wanted and that it would end up being even better than before.

And for the first time since you moved into that old house, you sat down and began to write. You’d gotten nearly ten thousand words written and were awake well into the wee hours of the morning typing away with the sudden inspiration you’d gotten. You fell asleep with your laptop next to you when you couldn’t hold your eyes open any longer.

You were woken to the sound of pounding and clanking and creaking which had you startled as you sat up in your bed and looked around your bedroom. The sun filled the space with light and you picked up your cellphone to note the time and saw a missed call from Harry.

Wrapping your robe around yourself you ran down the stairs all frazzled and rushed and burst onto the front porch, tripping over a stack of fresh boards and landing on your knees and palms like an idiot.

“Hey… hey…” you heard Harry’s deep voice from behind you as he slid his hands under your arms to help you up, “You okay?”

“Oh my god…” you croaked out the first words of the day from your throat, “I just woke up and realized you were here and… Sorry!”

He turned you to face him and looked down over your knees and lifted your palms upward to inspect, “Let’s get you cleaned up. Took quite the spill there. Sorry, I shouldn’t have stacked those boards right there.”

You felt your heart calm as he led you into your kitchen. He was so gentle with you, which for some reason you hadn’t expected. You knew he was kind but this seemed very much outside of the scope of his job description, “No, it’s fine! It’s me. I’d probably trip over the boards no matter where you had them stacked. I’m a bit of a nervous nelly. And when I woke up I just… I was startled. Fell asleep late and didn’t set an alarm…”

Harry grinned at you as you ran your faucet and put your hands under it, “It’s fine. No need to rush or get all riled up. I got here a bit early and when you didn’t answer I just figured I’d start on the porch. Think I’ll replace your doorbell as well. It’s not working either.”

You dried your hands and smiled at Harry, “I’ll get you a key before you leave today. In case I’m not here or I’m sleeping again. Sorry… I just had this burst of inspiration last night and typed until I passed out. It’s…”

“You’re fine,” you watched his eyes drop down to your torso and then bounce back up quickly to your face.

When you looked down at yourself you realized your robe was twisted and while all your bits were covered, they were barely covered.

“Jesus fucking Christ… I’m sorry, Harry. I’m a mess…” you pulled the material into place and adjusted the robe.

Harry put his hands at the tops of your arms, “Hey… you’re fine. Take a breath. It’s a beautiful morning and the birds are singing, and just look at this view…” he motioned toward your window where you could see trees and lush green grass stretch along the front of the house, “Now… Do you have some alcohol to clean up the cuts on your knees?”

You sighed and nodded, “Yeah. I’ll get it. You don’t have to do all this. I promise I’m fine. Just need to kind of wake up I think.”

Harry nodded, “Okay. I’ll get back to work out there. Gonna be some loud hammering and noises for a while.”

You cleaned yourself up and put actual clothes on before making coffee and bringing a hot mug out to Harry on a tray. This time, you carefully placed your steps around the boards and scanned the porch to see open spaces and nails in a tin next to fresh boards.

Harry was crouched along the railing and prying a board from its spot when he looked up at you.

“Coffee? Wasn’t sure if you take it with sugar or cream… Or maybe you just want tea?” You placed the tray down as he stood up.

“That’s really nice of you. Thank you. I would love some coffee. Black is fine.”

He took the mug by its handle and brought it up to his lips to take a sip.

“And if you’re hungry I could make you something?” You watched him gulp down the hot liquid.

Shaking his head he grinned at you, “Maybe lunch in a few hours. I ate breakfast already. But you don’t need to go out of your way to make anything. I can go into town for a sandwich, which is what I usually do.”

“Oh no. I’ll make you something for lunch! I insist! I love the company anyway. That way you can kind of relax instead of driving back and forth just to eat. Unless you want to get away for a bit. I mean…” you started rambling. You couldn’t help yourself. Harry’s biceps were on full display as he lifted the mug up to his mouth again and you could just feel your own mouthwatering at the sight. You hadn’t seen a man so attractive in a long time. All the city guys you dated were nice enough… but then there was Harry. Tall with broad shoulders and lean muscle all over, deep pink lips and light green eyes… and dimples… and he was handy? God, you weren’t sure how long you could go before you started to become obvious about how much you enjoyed letting your irises rove over his frame. That is if it wasn’t already obvious.

He watched you go on and on about lunch and then offer up other suggestions with a small smile on his face until you stopped when you realized you were yammering, “Sorry.”

“You okay?” He grinned. He knew you were fine. But he did wonder if you were flustered because of him or if that was how you just were.

“I’m fine. Sorry. Get kind of long-winded sometimes. I’ll let you get to it. Um… if you do want me to make you lunch just let me know. And uh…” you paused and then realized you were about to start yapping again, “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Y/n,” Harry’s deep voice was soft as he spoke your name and you turned to look back at him, “Take a breath. It’s okay. We’ll have lunch together in a few hours. Yeah?”

You puffed out a breathy laugh and nodded before heading back inside with the tray that had sugar and milk atop.

You hadn’t considered it until then. Until you were placing the small crystal lid back onto the sugar bowl and putting the milk back into the refrigerator that your sudden burst of inspiration for the story you were working on was thanks to your handsome handyman. It also felt really good to have someone else there with you. Not that you didn’t feel safe there alone, but just having another presence near you was comforting.

And when you began to make up a lunch, something you hoped he’d like (you had to stop yourself from asking him if he’d want cucumbers and white cheese on his sandwich and just trust that it would be fine) you couldn’t help but peek out your window at him as he pounded his hammer down and wiped the sweat from his brow. His shirt was a bit damp as the sun was rising in the sky and the temperature with it.

Which then reminded you to plug in a fan so he could cool off while he ate with you. You set up the kitchen table and plugged in a fan to have it on for him as you both ate your sandwiches. As well as iced lemonade and chopped cherry tomatoes with basil and olive oil.

It was noon on the dot when you opened the door and poked your head out, “Lunch is ready if you’re hungry.”

Harry placed his hammer down and pushed himself up to stand as he nodded, “Thank you. Mind if I use the bathroom before?”

“Harry, you can use anything you want in the house. Feel free to come inside when you please. You don’t have to ask.”

“Well, thank you, Y/n. I appreciate it.”

You felt ridiculous as you paced your kitchen in wait for Harry to come in so you two could begin. The silly thoughts you had in your head about him had your heart lobbing around in your chest a bit too fast. You could just imagine (in the deepest little fantasy spot in your brain) that he’d take one bite of your sandwich and be so overcome by you that he’d have the sudden urge to lift you onto the table, push your dress up, and take you right there, knocking the lemonade down and forgetting all about the cherry tomatoes.

“Wow. This looks excellent. And you’re joining me?” He smiled as he stepped into the kitchen, his eyes on the table.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you shrugged as you pulled a chair out for him, just in the path of the fan, “And if it’s okay, though I could have some with you. Keep you company. Unless I’m annoying you…”

Harry laughed and shook his head as he took his seat, “You’re the furthest thing from annoying, Y/n. In fact, I quite like talking to you. Sit,” he gestured at the spot where you’d placed your own plate with the sandwich. “The fan is a nice touch too. See, you’re just about the sweetest person I’ve ever worked for and it’s only been a few hours.”

You felt the skin on your cheeks heat up as you sat down in the wooden chair and looked at Harry. You really really tried not to look at him like that. But you could feel it oozing out of you as you batted your lashes and tilted your head down, your eyes still on him. You couldn’t help it!

And he saw it clear as day too. Grinning at you he took the glass of lemonade and gulped down about half as he watched you blink your eyes and then remove your gaze from his down to your plate.

“Thank you, Y/n,” he said as he placed the glass down and picked up his sandwich.

“You’re welcome, Harry.”

. . .

Harry didn’t take days off. He was at your house at 8 am sharp every morning and every day you were sure to make him a big lunch and chat with him a bit. But every day you fell further and further into a little spiral of want and lust. It was ridiculous but he wasn’t doing anything to dampen the way you felt.

Like after one lunch, he took his thumb and wiped the mustard from the edge of your mouth so nonchalantly you felt your knees give out and he had to help steady you. But you didn’t miss his smirk. Like he knew just what he was doing.

Or the time when you were walking from your bathroom to your kitchen after a shower and he’d gone out to buy supplies so you thought you were alone but instead walked past the huge window in only your underwear and bra as you were talking to yourself. Yapping away about whatever in your panties as you turned to the sink to wash some dishes but then yelped when you saw him standing there looking in, an expression of surprise on his face.

You had never run so fast in your life up to your room to put something on. And you should have known better. What was wrong with you? Of course, you were quite absent-minded at times, but that was something on another level.

But then it happened again that he saw you in only your skivvies as you traipsed to your bathroom and had forgotten that he was rewiring the second-floor hallway lights.

“Hey, sweetheart… just wanted to remind you that I’m here,” his voice startled you and you balked as you apologized and shut the bathroom door with a loud slam.

“Sorry, Harry!” You apologized again with your heart rapidly thudding behind your ribcage.

You could hear his voice through the bathroom door, “Don’t need to apologize. Doesn’t offend me. Just wanted to remind you I was here is all – in case you weren’t keen on me seeing you in your knickers.”

And Harry was like that. So gentle and thoughtful and there was the tiniest bit of flirtatiousness there too. Which really kept you on your toes around him. Made you feel all hot and gooey. Maybe if he didn’t grin at you the way he did or if he didn’t wipe mustard from your lips or call you sweetheart or compliment you as often you wouldn’t feel that tension there all the time.

But he did and so you did.

Which then led to you working up the nerve to start asking him to say for dinner. He’d sit in your kitchen after using your shower to clean up and watch (you insisted he didn’t help) as you made something for the both of you to eat.

At first, he didn’t stay every evening for dinner because he wanted to get home to clean up and you didn’t want to push and make it seem like you were needy for his company.

But soon, after suggesting he just use your shower, it was every night, and he began to bring a change of clothes so he could clean up before eating. And it felt like you were in some kind of bizarre relationship. Or, that’s what you pretended in your mind anyway. And it was fodder for your writing so you played into the fantasy a little bit.

Of course, there were also all the times you caught him with his shirt off. By the time he began working inside the house summer was in full swing and the place had no central air conditioning so it could get rather hot inside.

And it wasn’t just that you caught him with his shirt off… it was that he caught you staring while he was sans shirt, a sheen of sweat on his chest and at the nape of his neck, muscles flexing and tensing as he labored to make your house gorgeous and well-functioning.

Harry Styles was sexy. He was kind. He was charming and funny. He was smart. And you wanted him. Wanted him in a bad way.

And the days and weeks that drew on that feeling and that lust did not falter. No, it only widened and grew strong, steady thick roots into the ground and became fortified and strengthened with every little bit of contact you had with him. You wanted him so badly you could taste it. Feel it. Smell it.

“Let me get it!” He scoffed at you as he pulled the lid from the pot that was boiling over while you were chopping the tomatoes. You told him to stay seated because you wanted him to rest, that you’d get the boiling pot. He’d worked so hard that day (as he always did) and you knew he must be tired. But he dipped the spoon into the bubbling water and turned down the burner to lower the heat for you.

“I can help, Y/n. I know you’re just being sweet cause you think I’m all tuckered but I don’t mind. Really.”

You smiled as you sliced into the tomato, “Okay. I just want to make sure you’re not working extra. You work so hard every day and I feel like this is the least I can do for you.”

Harry pushed a soft laugh out through his nose as he placed the lid back onto the pot, “The least you could do is pay me for my work. And that you already do. This,” he gestured around the kitchen, “Is above and beyond. Not that I’m complaining.”

“Well, I just… I feel like we’re friends now and feels strange to send you home after,” you glanced at him to see that he was leaning his hip into the counter watching you in that way that he often looked at you. The one that made your skin sizzle.

When he didn’t respond you glanced at him again, “There’s a bottle of wine if you want to share? I think it’ll go really nicely with this dish.”

Harry pursed his lips and nodded, “Trying to get me drunk, sweetheart?”

You chuckled in surprise and shook your head, “Of course not!” Placing the knife down you turned to him, “I was only just suggesting it if you want. I mean… you don’t have to. I didn’t think a glass would be all that bad–“

“I’m teasing. It’s okay. I’ll have some wine with you,” he laughed at the way you suddenly bristled, “Where’s the wine opener? I’ll pour us both a glass.”

The wine turned out to be the perfect accompaniment for the pasta dish you’d made. But you knew it would be. In fact, you’d gone into town the night before to the olive oil and wine shop and selected the wine for that exact purpose after asking the owner what she thought. You weren’t sure if he’d like wine or not but you liked wine and it was a really nice bottle. Which you could afford now that you had a bit of money to your name.

And Harry agreed it was good as he poured you both another glass after you’d both finished your plates.

“So what are you writing anyway?” Harry asked as he leaned back in his chair and set his eyes on you.

“It’s a romance. You wouldn’t be into it I’m sure,” you shrugged as you sipped your wine.

“Why are you so sure I wouldn’t be into it? I love romance.”

“Oh. I guess men aren’t usually my target audience or prospective target audience… I haven’t actually published anything. Sorry… I shouldn’t assume I guess.”

“Tell me what it’s about.”

You cleared your throat and shook your head, “Oh… it’s not done. I’m kind of too bashful to talk about it just yet.”

Harry leaned his elbows onto the table and kept his gaze on you, “Oh come on… Tell me. I won’t judge. I want to know what kind of story you’ve been working on. And then I’ll tell you a secret of my own. How’s that sound?”

You sat your glass of wine down and licked your lips as you let your pupils take in his pretty lips, “Uh… fine…” you sighed and smiled. You wouldn’t tell him the whole thing but perhaps you could just make it brief. “It’s about a woman who takes on a new adventure in life and she meets a man unexpectedly and he helps her kind of navigate her new life… uh… like they have this unspoken connection and feel quite comfortable with one another off the bat. And it leads to a whirlwind romance that ends happily ever after.”

Harry tilted his head to the side and stitched his brows together, “Y/n…” Harry spoke your name as if he were about to scold you, “Give me some detail. What kind of new adventure is this woman taking?”

You looked up at the ceiling and felt your neck heat up. If you told him the premise he’d figure out you were basically writing a story that was a fantasy version of what you and Harry were doing.

But you didn’t want to lie and you could just tell him to drop it but you didn’t want to do that either. So you gulped down the saliva in your throat and laughed as you looked at him, “She inherits a gorgeous old house from a family member with all the money she’d need to hire a man to help her restore the place.”

The pleased look on his face had you looking away from him and down at your empty plate in full embarrassment.

“I see. So you’ve had some real-life inspiration since moving in here then.”

You nodded, a small laugh falling from your lips, “Yeah.”

“And this man helping her restore the old house? He’s the one she has her whirlwind, happy-ending romance with?”

You put your hands over your face, “Oh my god. I mean… yes. It’s just inspiration, though… like it wasn’t–“

Your words were cut off when you heard his chair scrape over the wooden floors and felt his hand at your back, “You don’t need to explain yourself. It’s just a story. Wanna hear my secret now? Level out the playing field a bit here.”

You pulled your hands away from your face and looked at him. He was sitting right next to you, so close you could see the pores on his nose as he offered you a dimpled grin. His hand gently rubbed at your back.

“Level out the playing field?”

His soft grin deepened as he slid his pupils down to your lips, “Yeah. You told me something that’s kind of a secret. If you want me to tell you a secret I will… kind of make it even.”

You swallowed with a nod as he moved his eyes over the expanse of your face and it felt like warmth seeping into your skin.

“See… So here’s the thing…” he paused to make sure you were paying attention, “I’ve been working for this insanely sweet-as-pie woman for a couple of months now. Just falling in love with every corner of the house that I touch… getting fed fruit and coffee every morning, sandwiches in the afternoon with lemonade and a fan to help cool me down, and then lately it’s spread into dinner… just me and her eating together in her kitchen, talking about nothing and everything as the sun goes down and then I go home at night alone and find myself unable to stop thinking about her and the way she laughs and the way I catch her staring at me when I’ve sweat through my shirt…”

You were holding your breath as he spoke and it was making your head fuzzy and your heart thud and your skin light up as he slowly worked his hand up to the back of your neck, fingers grazing the skin… it felt like you were watching a movie play out before you. Like it wasn’t real.

“And I think to myself… what if she feels the same way about me that I feel about her? Ya know? I mean I’ve seen the way she looks at me. That can’t be an accident. And she’s even started to ask me to stay even later after dinner to have dessert and even though my stomach is always stuffed full of the food she’s fed me and I couldn’t imagine eating another thing I’m always tempted to stay a little longer with her. Just to see where it goes,” the pad of his finger worked up your neck as you turned your gaze down to your hand on the table, “To find out if her dessert is just as tasty as everything else she’s offered me. And of course, I have no doubt that it would be.”

You stayed quiet. You couldn’t believe he’d just said all that. Like he was reading your story and knew what you wanted to happen next. Slowly you brought your gaze back to his and spoke shakily, “Harry…”

“You want me to stay for dessert tonight, Y/n?” You could feel the brush of his thumb along one side of your throat and the press of the pads of his fingers gently on the other side, palm flat against the back of your neck. And that question. It meant more than what he said and you both knew it.

“Yes. If you want,” you swallowed and kept your eyes on his face as he lowered his gaze to your mouth again. His hand at the back of your neck tensed and you could feel him pulling at you, just the last few inches needed to brush his lips against yours in a tentative move, allowing you to breach the space completely, moving in and pressing your mouth firmly against his.

And it was everything. Warm and soft and wet and then he inhaled sharply and opened his mouth to paint his tongue over your lips and you responded in kind, using your tongue against his and you felt his free hand pull at your hip. You smoothed your hands up his strong arms and to his shoulders and your heart felt full and light all at the same time.

When you felt the fine hairs at the nape of his neck under your fingers he shifted and pulled at you, both hands gripping your hips and bringing you up out of your chair and placing your bottom on the sturdy wood of the kitchen table, the plates pushed to the side and your nearly empty glass of wine wobbled in its spot as he kept his mouth over yours and he fit himself between your legs.

“Always wearing pretty skirts and dresses for me, aren’t you?” His lips traveled down your jaw and pressed over the skin on your pulse point, “Been teasing me this whole time…” slow pecks down to your clavicle and then back up the other side of your neck as he planted his palms flat onto the table next to your thighs, “Just know you wanted me to see you in your panties all those times… acted all innocent like you didn’t know you were giving me a show…”

You gasped when you felt his teeth gently scrap at your jaw before pushing plush pink lips over the same spot, “Harry…” you breathed out his name.

“Mmm… love how you say my name too,” he spoke as he moved his mouth back over yours and it was game over. Teeth and tongues, and wet lips with moans as he slid a thumb under the hem of your dress to glide up your thigh. He pressed himself in further, making you lay back on the table, your saltshaker and napkin holder tipping over as he ran his hands up your sides.

“Is this what you wanted? All this time, Y/n?”

You moaned as he began to pepper his kisses down your neck once again, your body lighting up with every touch and whisper into your skin.

“Yes…”

“Yeah,” he looked up at you with his hands firm around your waist before he moved them down to push at your skirt, shoving the material up your thighs, “And what about this? Is this what you want too?”

You pushed yourself up by your elbows and nodded, “Yeah…”

Harry grinned as his fingers found your panties and he tucked his middle fingers into the band, “Wanna give me my dessert now?”

His light jade eyes were sparkling as he waited for your nod of approval, the small yes you peeped out had him tearing your panties down your legs, left to drape off your left foot as he pushed your thighs apart and moaned, “It’s the only dessert I’ve wanted since you first started offering. Smells so good too,” he dropped his mouth to the inside of your plush thigh and ran his big palms upward on the underside of your thighs to press your legs back and you gurgled a moan as you watched him dip down and tongue at your pussy, his wet muscle slicking upward from your entrance to your clit and then repeated, and repeated, over and over as he kept his eyes on yours until you were so slick he was barely making contact with your skin… your arousal had coated your pussy and his tongue in a thick layer.

“Fuck me… sweetheart… you’re gonna give me a toothache with all this sweet juice…” he spoke mindlessly as he lapped at you. He brought a hand down to your pussy, running his fingers through your crease as he pressed his tongue to your clit and kissed it, bringing it delicately into his mouth with a gentle slurp.

“Ahh! Harry!” You reached down to pull at his hair as your back arched up and your head fell back into the wood.

The moment Harry felt your grip on his hair he spread your pussy with his fingers and drove a digit inside, curling it in and brushing against the spot you loved to focus on when you fingered yourself, making your body shiver.

Your table was rattling from the movements you were making, the lewd act causing the wooden legs to shift and give slightly as Harry ate your pussy and moaned at your taste.

“Gonna let me have some every night now?” His words came out watery, and slurred as he continued working to get you off, “Gonna let me take care of you the way you’ve been taking care of me?”

You cried out in a gurgle when you felt another finger press inside as he flattened his tongue over your pussy, “Yes!”

Harry grinned into your pussy. Seemed all you could say at that point was a combination of yes and Harry. He loved how you were responding to him. Like it was all you ever wanted.

When he felt you roll your hips up and grind into his mouth he pressed your thigh down and dug in harder, flicking his eyes up at you from time to time, watching the way your chest rose and fell heavy, how your lips were dropped wide open with your eyes closed.

“Y’shaking so hard, sweetheart. You can come if you need to,” he slid his fingers into the last knuckle and back out as he spoke, lips grazing your wet clit as he did so, “You’ve been so good to me, you deserve a treat too…”

Your brain was in a fog, a haze that made it hard to hear or make sense of his words as your orgasm tiptoed its way through your tummy and down into your core, slowly sliding its way through your organs until it burst out of you and your limbs stiffened as you pressed Harry’s face into your pussy and moaned his name so loudly Harry figured it was a good thing you didn’t have any neighbors close by to hear what could sound like someone being attacked.

But in a way, you were being attacked. Harry’s lips and his tongue and his fingers ravaged you through your orgasm, never letting up or stopping until you gasped and pushed at him as you sat up with wet lips, burning cheeks, and dark eyes, “Oh god, Harry!”

The dirty smirk on his face was pure sex as he pulled his fingers out of your sticky pussy and slid you from the table, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you to your room, his mouth on yours.

You began to squeak in protest as he lifted you and started up the stairs and you were certain it was too much weight or that he’d drop you but he was solid and strong and moved with ease, holding you tight under your bottom with one hand and his other at your mid back until he laid you on your bed with a bounce.

Harry began to pull his jeans down his strong legs and you watched as he undressed. It was the first time you’d seen his bottom half but just as his chest and shoulders and abs did not disappoint, neither did his masculine, well-muscled thighs and buttocks. The man was in incredible shape, thanks to good genes and hard manual labor you assumed.

When Harry peeled his shirt off over his head, the curls were pushed upward and he was left standing in your bedroom looking like a man ready to ransack your body with wild hair, tight boxer briefs hiding an erection that looked quite sizable.

Silently he kneed onto the bed between your legs and pushed your dress out of the way, “Let me see you, sweetheart. Is that okay?”

You helped him bring the dress off over your head and immediately reached up to unpluck your bra, the clasp at the front that once undone had your tits bursting out.

“Holy, fuck…” Harry dove down to your breasts, lapping and squeezing at each one and you placed your fingers back into his hair as if it were their new home. The length was perfect to grip onto.

He pushed himself up as he cupped your tits together and kept his eyes on your flesh and nipples with mouth dropped open, “Goddamn, sweetheart…” He dipped down again, wetting the skin all around your breasts with his lips and tongue until you bucked upward and your wet pussy kissed his belly button.

Popping off from your nipple he looked down at you underneath his large frame and smoothed his hands down your sides and over your tummy then to your hips. He thumbed at your clit and looked up at you, not an ounce of humor on his face, “I can eat your pussy all night. Want my mouth again?” He licked his lips.

“Want to feel it, Harry…” you breathed out.

“Want to feel my mouth again?”

You moaned and slid your palm down his chest and felt the bit of hair on his pecs tickle your skin, “Your cock.”

“Is that right? Sweetheart wants her handyman to stuff her full tonight?” Now you could see the small smirk on his face as he looked at your tits and then back up to your eyes.

“I want you to stuff me full, Harry. I want to feel it.”

Harry wet his lips again as he moaned at your words and tore his boxer briefs down his thighs and to the floor.

He sat back onto his haunches, eyes on yours as he held himself at his base. His thick ruddy tip smooth and ready to pierce into your cunt had you groaning, “Please.”

“You wanna be my girl, Y/n? Be mine? Cause I don’t fuck unless I know I can keep coming back. I don’t do casual, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, “I don’t either. I’ll be yours. Your girl.”

“You sure? You want to date a small-town handyman, make me dinner every night, and get fucked into this soft bed until you’re passed out?”

“Oh my god, Harry,” you moaned and nodded, “Yes. Please…”

Harry scooted in toward you, and his massive cock was just throbbing before your eyes. That thing was going to do some damage to you but you would happily receive it. Take it every night like he said, looked forward to feeling how much he’d fill you up and how deep he’d get, how much it’d ache when he pounded into you.

His hand slid behind your neck, fingers wrapping around the back side as he hovered over you, “Pussy’s so little, sweetheart. Might need to hold on at first okay?”

The dimple popping into his cheek told you he was playing with you. And while, yes, he was quite large, that bulbous tip and thick shaft would definitely be felt entering you, there was no question it’d tuck nicely into your slippery walls.

You gripped his biceps as you kept your eyes focused on his. He glided his fat tip through your pussylips with the slushy wet sound of your arousal coating his cock, drenching his leaking slit until he was sticking the crown at your opening, his lips parted as he pressed into your muscle and penetrated you slowly.

“Mmm… fuck me, sweetheart,” his voice was hiked up a notch in a whine as he clenched his teeth upon entry, “Y’mine now? Yeah?”

You nodded and whimpered, “Harry… oh god I’m yours…”

Harry nodded with you, his eyes focused on your face as he opened you up, and spread you apart inch by inch. When he’d gotten in halfway he reared himself back, that wide tip sliding out of your cunt just before he pressed himself back in, nudging in deeper. The intrusion was all-consuming. Harry’s hard cock was long and thick. But of course, it was. A man like him with a body like that… But it was his demeanor that had tipped you off at the beginning that he had a big dick. That personality that oozed with natural confidence.

“Oh, my fuck!” You wailed as he drove into you again, this time with a bit of force that had his hips grinding into yours.

“Yeah? It’s big in there isn’t it? Need me to be gentle?”

You could just see it in his eyes. He did not want to be gentle. The man above you, fucking into you was holding himself back. He was taking it easy for your sake. But you wanted him to ruin you. Wanted your pussy wrecked by that thick cock, needed to let him have his way with your body so he could get off.

“No… fuck me like you want. Harry…” you whimpered his name as you cupped his jaw, stubble scraping your palm as he slowly thrust into you, “Make me yours. Show me how you do it.” You wanted to feel his strength. Wanted to know what it felt like to have him completely destroy your pussy.

Harry let out a deep groan then hissed as he ground into your cunt, his cock grazing that achy spot deep inside that you knew was gonna be bruised once he was done with you, “Don’t want to hurt your cute little pussy, Y/n. Can already feel I’m in as deep as I can go.”

“Harry, make me yours. Please.”

“Fuck…” he gritted out as he adjusted his knee placement, lifting himself with his thighs and readying his position to rail into you like you wanted. He pulled your hands up and placed your palms onto his lats as he leaned over you, “Hold on here. Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

You gripped your fingers into the muscle of his back and felt him flexing as he drew his long cock back and bucked in with one harsh thrust. The wind nearly knocked from your lungs as he did it again. He was still taking it easy. Long heavy strokes into your guts, hips slapping into yours in thuds until he got into a rhythm and your high-pitched moans told him you were loving it.

Soon your bed was loudly creaking, the mattress springs bouncing heavy and his balls were whacking into your bum. Wet patting of skin colliding and heavy pants filled the room.

“Like this?” He gritted as his pelvis repeatedly smashed into your clit filling your veins with damp mushy heat as your pussy clamped over him.

“Fffffuuu…” you cried out. Not a word but an answer. You did like it. Every time he filled you to the brim with his fat cock and your pussy parted for him, spreading apart to accommodate his hefty girth it brought you closer and closer to the precipice.

Harry choked out a moan when he felt his own orgasm edge toward the brink slowly. The way you gripped around him, the perfect warm and wet hole attached to the sweetest thing he’d ever met made his heart thrash in his chest harshly.

He couldn’t believe that he was getting to fuck you. That you promised to be his. That things had worked out the way they had. Because he’d started falling for you since day one. He had been impressed that you wanted to salvage the old house and to him, that meant you were already special. A city girl with a heart of gold who didn’t mind getting her hands dirty. And when you told him you ripped out some of the rotted boards from the porch on your own his cock twitched in his pants. The image in his mind of you doing that was hot.

And as the days and weeks went on he learned more about you and he became obsessed with making everything in the house just perfect for you. He often daydreamed of living in it with you. Getting to see you every day after work with a kid or two running around. While it was too early to think about all that, he couldn’t help it. Harry was a sincere and deeply emotional man who prized deep connections and love over everything. He’d never been able to do casual.

He was brought back to the moment when your face began to screw up in pleasure and your punched breaths began to grow into loud moans with every snap of his hips.

You, on the other hand, were thinking of nothing but that big cock sliding through your insides and ramming into your depths, your tummy aching at the stretch and the way he filled you so completely. Your brain was empty as he sliced through you, fucking you down into your soft blankets as his chest and arms and shoulders tensed.

“Ooohh, sweetheart… like that yeah? That what you need? Right there?”

Your arousal had dripped from your hole and drenched your ass and the blanket under you, your gushy wetness slopped out with every push of his cock into your pussy.

Harry could feel your thighs quivering and shaking as you started to arch into him, loud bursts of moans belted from your lungs on each plunge.

Harry was losing his mind at the noises you were making and how good you felt squeezing around him, “Gonna have to move myself in here so I can have you like this every day… look at you taking me so well… fucking creaming all over me…” his string of consciousness continued as he railed into you deeply and you felt your insides snap suddenly, your orgasm erasing all working thoughts from your brain.

“Yes! Fuuuuck! Yes! I need you!”

“Need you too, Y/n. I fucking need you baby… come all over me, show me how good that is… fuck… fuck…” Harry clenched his jaw as you squelched around him, your slippery hole clenching so hard you nearly pushed him out but he was stronger as he continued to pound into you, bringing you through your ecstasy until he couldn’t go another moment without coming.

He began unloading into you, heavy, thick pumps of come filled your insides as he coughed out a groan and stilled his hips with your pussy milking him, pussy fluttering and squeezing every drop from his long shaft. You’d both lost your good senses in that moment. No thought about what was responsible or reasonable, it was only about how good it felt to be connected, new lovers enjoying one another and not giving a damn about the consequences.

Harry’s mouth pressed into yours and he moaned sloppily against your wet lips, bodies throbbing and shaking and lungs gasping for air as you wrapped your legs around his waist and hummed in bliss.

Harry’s heart was going wild as he dropped his chest to yours and licked into your mouth, one final push of his cock into your cervix for good measure, pressing his come deeper yet.

“Oh my god,” you breathed out in a mumble as his lips still smeared against yours.

“I know…” he responded with his eyes closed as he continued kissing you.

Your fingers wound into his hair and he rolled you both to your sides, still connecting and simmering and reeling.

“I think now you have to stay,” you parted from the kiss and looked at him with a small smile. Hoping he’d agree to it. You weren’t ready to let him go home yet.

“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere. You’ll have to forcibly remove me from you now.”

You giggled and cupped his cheeks, “Good. Means you aren’t gonna be leaving then.”

Harry’s soft smile and his big hands on you felt like home. More than anything had before. The old house was your home, yes, but ever since Harry walked into your life you were a changed woman.

“So you’re mine now? Can I call you my girlfriend?”

You puffed out a laugh through your nose, “Of course. Long as I can call you my boyfriend.”

“Of course. Been dreaming about it since I first met you.”

You licked your lips, “Yeah? Guess we both wasted a lot of time beating around the bush didn’t we?”

Harry shook his head, “Nahh… we didn’t waste time. Every moment spent with you was exactly what was supposed to happen. Got to know you real well. Got to learn all kinds of things about you. I feel like the way it happened wasn’t supposed to happen any other way.”

You nodded and bit your lip. He was probably right. The time you two spent chatting and flirting and getting to know one another slowly made you both open up and feel more comfortable in each other’s presence. And it all led to that very moment right there in your bed.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen any other way.”

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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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AU List

Hello! Welcome! This is my attempt at keeping the AU's boiuncing around in my head in order. They should be mostly in chronological order.

Some of them are getting turned into full length fics! The list (and it's open to suggestions) can be found here: Fic List

A couple of things:

Please feel free to write your own fics based on any of these! No need to ask, simply link it so I can also read it <3

If you have any specific scenarios you have an idea for and would like me to write- my asks/prompts are always open! I can't guarantee quality as I do most of my writing at like, 3 AM but I'll try my best!

I don't condone racism, bigotry, homophobia, etc.. I do not welcome it here. I acknowledge that I have biases that I've yet to unlearn. If there's something that makes you feel unwelcome in the things I write, please let me know and I will fix it ASAP.

I write these mostly on little to no sleep (that’s when I get creative I guess?) so good luck.

Squatter! Danny Raises Tim AU:

[Here] In which Tim finds a squatter (Danny) in his house and gets a brother.

[Here] AU of Squatter!Danny where Tim finds Danny squatting in the Nest as Red Robin and thinks he's a coffee-fueled hallucination.

[Here] Tim and Danny stalks the Dynamic Duo and freaks them out.

[Here] Tim and Danny goes shopping, Jazz Fenton casually suggests murder as a means of sibling adoption.

[Here] Tim meets Jason! Robin and fanboys his way into thinking he could become Robin. Danny tries to temper Tim’s stalking habits.

[Here] Family Bonding

Ghost King and the Justice League:

[Here] The JLA summons Danny and Constantine regrets his poor life decisions.

[Here] Writing Prompt: Ghost King!Danny can hear the screams of the Joker's victims.

[Here] Batman tells Hal Jordan to babysit the unconscious Ghost King because Hal’s neon green.

[Here] Zatanna helps the dying ghost boy by repairing his grave and hunting down the GIW

[Here] Zatanna retrieves the gravestones of Phantom's subjects and gives him a safe space to grieve.

[Here] Ghost King!Danny babysits Wonder Woman at the behest of the Goddess Hera.

[Here] Ghost King!Danny munches on some demons.

[Here] Local space ghost scolds superhero club because they littered in space.

[Here] The OG Young Justice team summons Danny in a private school bathroom

[Here] The JLA failed to prevent cultists from summoning the ghost king. Luckily, they get Danny instead, who seems to be the king's assistant.

Alcoholic! Danny Adopts Jason Todd AU: (Fic)

[Here] Alcoholic!Danny saves Jason Todd from a mugger and gives up alcohol to be a big brother.

[Here] Alcoholic! Danny confronts his stalker, buys chili dogs for his new little brother, and kills a pedo in that order.

[Here] Going Sober!Danny meets Batman, and then gives his new little brother an apartment and tells him he can go to school.

[Here] Going Sober! Danny takes his little brother back to school shopping

Spider in Gotham AU: (Fic)

[Here] In which Peter Parker gets isekai'd and shrunk, commits crime, and adopts a Gothamite street kid for a brother.

[Here] In which Peter Parker’s alternate memories haunt him in the form of nightmares, his identity gets made by his roommate, and he talks to a concerned vigilante with poor sleeping habits about his own poor sleeping habits.

Gotham! Danny and His Bats:

[Here] Writing Prompt: Cryptid Danny predates the Bats.

[Here] In which Danny is both Tim Drake and Gotham's City Spirit.

[Here] Writing Prompt: Danny and Gotham’s Bay that’s full of dead bodies, ghosts, and a very alive Red Hood

[Here] Gotham Spirit Phantom has a moment of introspection and would like people to stop blowing parts of the city up

[Here] AU of Gotham Spirit Phantom where Danny has no idea what universe he got reborn in and proceeds to have a bad time and decides to DIY mental health.

[Here] AU of Gotham Spirit Phantom where Danny has no idea what universe he got reborn in, pt. 2: Danny bullies Bruce into self care.

[Here] Writing Prompt: Shade! Jason stumbles across a ghost Danny, adopts him, gets turned into a full-fledged ghost, eats cookies, and gets pulled back into his human body.

Danny in Gotham:

[Here] Accidental Crime Lord! Danny Phantom and his takeover ft. a gaggle of orphans and a stressed Batman

[Here] Writing Prompt Lawyer!Danny Fenton and heroism within the confines of the law.

[Here] Lawyer! Danny prompt fulfillment

[Here] Coffee Shop Owner! Danny enforces the shop's neutrality by beating up the Joker with a chair and accidentally seduces the Red Hood.

[Here] New to the City! Danny dropkicks Red Hood in his stupid red helmet

[Here] Danny vs. Mr. Muffins

[Here] In which Bruce, Alfred, and Dick grieves while Danny wonders why they were grieving on an empty grave.

[Here] In which Danny did not get the memo about Gotham's pharmaceutical companies

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU:

[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny cleans up beach after local vigilante explodes his plane over the ocean.

[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny cleans the Gotham bay and does broke college student things.

[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny extorts money from Batman for blankets.

[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny makes a friend and calls Red Robin broke.

[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny makes Batman a debtor and makes friends with the best vigilante recyclers in Gotham.

[Here] Tim asks Danny to introduce Tim to Danny, Jason has a post-zombie crisis.

[Here] Batman tries to adopt another kid, Danny gets Vlad flashbacks, and the Bats finds out that Jason is stinky.

Danny Gets Yeeted (Yoted?) Into Gotham AU:

[Here] Danny gets dropped on the Batmobile and acquires minions

[Here] IOU One (1) Big (Harvey) Dent

[Here] Danny trolls the Waynes by telling them he's died before (and pretending he doesn't know they're vigilantes).

[Here] Tim makes bad excuses for vigilante injuries and Danny forgets about the knife embedded in his stomach.

[Here] Sleepy, assassin-trained Damian accidentally stabs civilian Danny and feels bad about it.

[Here] Danny's Knife Collection (but not just knives).

[Here] Ghostbusters but they don't actually catch the ghost (Danny)

[Here] Danny’s in the goddamn walls!

[Here] Danny's first family game night: trauma, eating paint, and aiming the Bat cannon at the GCPD and firing feral vigilantes out of it.

[Here] Cassandra Cain (former Feral Child) reassures Danny (who is Ghost Feral) that they're siblings.

[Here] Danny gets ice-cream with Duke, Bruce vs. (corrupt) CPS

[Here] Danny does gardening with Alfred

Danielle "Dani"/"Ellie" Phantom:

[Here] "Ellie" visits Gotham and encounters a Stinky Red Hood.

[Here] "Dani" trades "removing corrupted ectoplasm" for "a meeting with Batman about the GIW" ft. Stinky Red Hood and a confused Nightwing.

[Here] A paralegal gets reincarnated/isekai’ed as Danielle “Nellie” Phantom, Prompt

Gremlin Genius! Timothy Drake:

[Here] Toddler! Tim is irritated at his heroes for showing up late at their own Gala.

[Here] Tower Scene AU

Reincarnated as Gamer! Timmy Drake (fem Tim): (Fic)

[Here] The Dissociative Experience™️ of realizing your afterlife is a cosmic oopsie (and that you’re now playing a game as a female Tim Drake).

[Here] Art for the fic

New Tim-line, Who Dis? AU:

[Here] Time Traveling! Tim has a crisis on a plane and hires Deathstroke to off the Joker.

[Here] Time Traveling! Tim takes over Bludhaven's underground at nine years old by terrorizing them and takes out his big brother's enemies via blackmail and Amanda Waller.

[Here] Tim Drake Vs. The Education System round 2

[Here] Dick Grayson remembering his dumbass, self-sacrificing little brother from a different Tim-line.

Prompts Found:

[Here] Tim is a sleeping cat and the law is: you can't move.

[Here] Heartbroken Danny leaves Dick Grayson with a table full of cold anniversary dinner.

[Here] Tim beefs with Superman.

[Here] Triplet Tim

[Here] Triplet Tim Pt. 2

[Here] Triplet Tim Pt. 3

[Here] Triplet Tim Pt. 4

[Here] Triplet Tim Pt. 4.5

[Here] The Trio escapes Amity via train

[Here] Dick Grayson plays dumb... a bit too dumb

[Here] Reverse Trope Prompt- Too many beds (dcxdp)

[Here] Reverse Trope Prompt- accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss (dcxdp)

Thoughts about DC/DP:

[Here] Richard Grayson's successful image change

[Here] DC vs. The Fan Ability of Saying "No"

[Here] Jason's Pit Madness

[Here] Gotham's City Planners

[Here] Jason and Cass discusses their kill/no kill policies and comes to an understanding about each other.

[Here] Danny can be a twink OR he could be buff as hell.

[Here] DC Canon is soup.

[Here] Damian's relationship with art throughout his short life.

[Here] Ra’s could have revolutionized the medical field but decided to be a creep and clone a minor

[Here] Tim Drake is that troll from Trolls the movies, Branch

[Here] Butter Sock

[Here] Gotham city’s unanimous agreement not to fish dead bodies out of the bay

[Here] Danny in Hogwarts.

[Here] Reincarnation Manhwa + the Bats

[Here] The Bats, Supernatural AU

[Here] Jason's sick fic

[Here] Damian is lost in Amity Park

[Here] Tim, Danny, and floating down a river in a wine barrel

[Here] Reincarnated into Damian Wayne's older sister.

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saulcreative · 2 years

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21 Acres for Sale near Livingston, Montana | Satellite Map Tour

Tour a 21-acre lot right next to a deeded hunting preserve in beautiful Livingston, MT.

Listing by Jesse Lagos of Jesse Discovers, eXp Realty in Big Sky.

Read the full article

#21 Acres for Sale near Livingston #Satellite Map Tour #Saul creative

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sugarsprinklesoul · 2 months

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"How will I make a living?"

That all depends on your definition of living.

If your idea of living is a four-bedroom house on three acres of land, with two late model cars, modern furnishings, and all the latest electronic gadgetry to keep you entertained, your living requires a great deal of income. I have a friend in Montana who fishes every day and lives in a van. He follows the weather to different fishing spots throughout the year, and along the way he takes seasonal jobs working in fly shops, as caretaker of a lodge, or a barista in a coffee shop. When each season ends, he gets in his van and drives away to the next fishing spot, of course. His idea of living requires very little.

There's no wrong way to make a living.

When people talk about growing up and getting a real job, what do they mean by real job? Usually, they mean more money. But what's the money for?

Just remember this - it's not about the money. It's about the lifestyle.

So yes, you do need to make a living. Just be careful not to get sucked into someone else's idea of what that looks like. It's your life and your living. So get creative. People are constantly bending the rules of what it means to make a living. With your goals in mind, there's no limit to the ways you can make your life work. And there's absolutely no reason you should ever have to get a "real job" - unless that's what you want.

#inspiration #self love #motivation #self care #self help #self improvement #glow up #becoming that girl #glow up era #manifesation #self awareness #self confidence #self development #growth mindset #self growth #personal growth #gratitude

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soufre-de-paris · 3 months

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Blog recs?

good question. i'd say it depends on what you're looking for

art collectors: - @distantvoices a favorite, i've followed them forever - @subnitida beautiful curation - @thecollectibles seemingly random, but always interesting - @70sscifiart exactly what it says on the tin - @seguente beautiful collection of sparse art - @visual-sandwich paintings mostly, but also photography - @dailyrothko exactly what it says on the tin - @ortut tends to overlap with my personal tastes

personal art: - @enolezdrata delicate yet intense - @011flet heavy blocky dense and yet, and yet - @zmeess tension and grace - @caemidraws like looking into windows on another life - @canisalbus catholic dogs in love, yearning incorporated - @trikaranos perfect art and also extremely good academia - @muzinabu wildly creative yet grounded - @plastiboo indescribable but heavy and textural - @iliothermia elaborate, complex yet balanced - @sarakipin brilliant use of flat color, arching forms

interesting discussion (mostly queer issues): - @rthko - @queermasculine - @rinboz - @that-stone-butch - @thoodleoo - @thegodthief

uncategorized: - @unplaces depressing yet wistful - @5-and-a-half-acres exactly what it says on the tin - @hedgehog-moss llamas! - @yesterdaysprint exactly what it says on the tin - @theia-mania-comics really the only webcomic i follow

#i spent too much time on this obviously #asks

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goodluckclove · 5 days

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You Don't Need an Agent! Publishers That Accept Unsolicited Submissions

I see a few people sayin that you definitely need an agent to get published traditionally. Guess what? That's not remotely true. While an agent can be a very useful tool in finding and negotiating with publishers, going without is not as large of a hurdle as people might make it out to be!

Below is a list of some of the traditional publishers that offer reading periods for agent-less manuscripts. There might be more! Try looking for yourself - I promise it's not that scary!

Albert Whitman & Company: for picture books, middle-grade, and young adult fiction

Hydra (Part of Random House): for mainly LitRPG

Kensington Publishing: for a range of fiction and nonfiction

NCM Publishing: for all genres of fiction (YA included) and nonfiction

Pants of Fire Press: for middle-grade, YA, and adult fiction

Tin House Books: very limited submission period, but a good avenue for fiction, literary fiction, and poetry written by underrepresented communities

Quirk Fiction: offers odd-genre rep for represented and unagented authors. Unsolicited submissions inbox is closed at the moment but this is the page that'll update when it's open, and they produced some pretty big books so I'd keep an eye on this

Persea Books: for lit fiction, creative nonfiction, YA novels, and books focusing on contemporary issues

Baen: considered one of the best known publishers of sci-fi and fantasy. They don't need a history of publication.

Chicago Review Press: only accepting nonfiction at the moment, but maybe someone here writes nonfiction

Acre: for poetry, fiction and nonfiction. Special interest in underrepresented authors. Submission period just passed but for next year!

Coffeehouse Press: for lit fiction, nonfiction, poetry and translation. Reading period closed at time of posting, but keep an eye out

Ig: for queries on literary fiction and political/cultural nonfiction

Schaffner Press: for lit fiction, historical/crime fiction, or short fiction collections (cool)

Feminist Press: for international lit, hybrid memoirs, sci-fi and fantasy fiction especially from BIPOC, queer and trans voices

Evernight Publishing: for erotica. Royalties seem good and their response time is solid

Felony & Mayhem: for literary mystery fiction. Not currently looking for new work, but check back later

This is all what I could find in an hour. And it's not even everything, because I sifted out the expired links, the repeat genres (there are a lot of options for YA and children's authors), and I didn't even include a majority of smaller indie pubs where you can really do that weird shit.

A lot of them want you to query, but that's easy stuff once you figure it out. Lots of guides, and some even say how they want you to do it for them.

Not submitting to a Big 5 Trad Pub House does not make you any less of a writer. If you choose to work with any publishing house it can take a fair bit of weight off your shoulders in terms of design and distribution. You don't have to do it - I'm not - but if that's the way you want to go it's very, very, very possible.

Have a weirder manuscript that you don't think fits? Here's a list of 50 Indie Publishers looking for more experimental works to showcase and sell!

If Random House won't take your work - guess what? Maybe you're too cool for Random House.

#writing community #writeblr #on writing #writers on tumblr #authors of tumblr #queer writers #poc writer #trans writers #ya author #writing tips #writing resources #writing inspiration #writers supporting writers

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reasonsforhope · 4 months

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Paywall-free version

On the outskirts of Austin, Texas, what began as a fringe experiment has quickly become central to the city’s efforts to reduce homelessness. To Justin Tyler Jr., it is home.

Mr. Tyler, 41, lives in Community First! Village, which aims to be a model of permanent affordable housing for people who are chronically homeless. In the fall of 2022, he joined nearly 400 residents of the village, moving into one of its typical digs: a 200-square-foot, one-room tiny house furnished with a kitchenette, a bed and a recliner.

The village is a self-contained, 51-acre community in a sparsely populated area just outside Austin. Stepping onto its grounds feels like entering another realm.

Eclectic tiny homes are clustered around shared outdoor kitchens, and neat rows of recreational vehicles and manufactured homes line looping cul-de-sacs.

There are chicken coops, two vegetable gardens, a convenience store, art and jewelry studios, a medical clinic and a chapel.

Roads run throughout, but residents mainly get around on foot or on an eight-passenger golf cart that makes regular stops around the property.

Mr. Tyler chose a home with a cobalt-blue door and a small patio in the oldest part of the village, where residents’ cactus and rock gardens created a “funky, hippie vibe” that appealed to him. He arrived in rough shape, struggling with alcoholism, his feet inflamed by gout, with severe back pain from nearly 10 years of sleeping in public parks, in vehicles and on street benches.

At first, he kept to himself. He locked his door and slept. He visited the clinic and started taking medication. After a month or so, he ventured out to meet his neighbors.

“For a while there, I just didn’t want to be seen and known,” he said. “Now I prefer it.”

Between communal meals and movie screenings, Mr. Tyler also works at the village, preparing homes for the dozen or more people who move there each month.

In the next few years, Community First is poised to grow to nearly 2,000 homes across three locations, which would make it by far the nation’s largest project of this kind, big enough to permanently house about half of Austin’s chronically homeless population.

Tiny-home villages for people who have been homeless have existed on a small scale for several decades, but have recently become a popular approach to addressing surging homelessness. Since 2019, the number of these villages across the country has nearly quadrupled, to 124 from 34, with dozens more coming, according to a census by Yetimoni Kpeebi, a researcher at Missouri State University.

Mandy Chapman Semple, a consultant who has helped cities like Houston transform their homelessness systems, said the growth of these villages reflects a need to replace inexpensive housing that was once widely available in the form of mobile home parks and single room occupancy units, and is rapidly being lost. But she said they are a highly imperfect solution.

“I think where we’re challenged is that ‘tiny home’ has taken on a spectrum of definitions,” said Chapman Semple. Many of those definitions fall short of housing standards, often lacking basic amenities like heat and indoor plumbing, which she said limits their ability to meet the needs of the population they intend to serve.

But Community First is pushing the tiny home model to a much larger scale. While most of its homes lack bathrooms and kitchens, its leaders see that as a necessary trade-off to be able to creatively and affordably house the growing number of people living on Austin’s streets. And unlike most other villages, many of which provide temporary emergency shelter in structures that can resemble tool sheds, Community First has been thoughtfully designed with homey spaces where people with some of the highest needs can stay for good. No other tiny home village has attempted to permanently house as many people.

Austin’s homelessness rate has been rapidly worsening, and the city’s response has whipped back and forth... In October [2023], the official estimate put the number of people living without shelter at 5,530, a 125 percent increase from two years earlier. Some of that rise is the result of better outreach, but officials acknowledged that more people have become homeless. City leaders vowed to build more housing, but that effort has been slowed by construction delays and resistance from residents.

Meanwhile, outside the city limits, Community First has been building fast. [Note from below the read more: It's outside city limits because the lack of zoning laws keeps more well-off Austin residents from blocking the project, as they did earlier attempts to build inside the city.] In a mere eight years, this once-modest project has grown into a sprawling community that the city is turning to as a desperately needed source of affordable housing. The village has now drawn hundreds of millions of dollars from public and private sources and given rise to similar initiatives across the country.

This rapid growth has come despite significant challenges. And some question whether a community on the outskirts of town with relaxed housing standards is a suitable way to meet the needs of people coming out of chronic homelessness. The next few years will be a test of whether these issues will be addressed or amplified as the village expands to five times its current size.

-via New York Times, January 8, 2024. Article continues below (at length!)

The community versus Community First

For Alan Graham, the expansion of Community First is just the latest stage in a long-evolving project. In the late 1990s, Mr. Graham, then a real estate developer, attended a Catholic men’s retreat that deepened his faith and inspired him to get more involved with his church. Soon after, he began delivering meals as a church volunteer to people living on Austin’s streets.

In 1998, Mr. Graham, now 67, became a founder of Mobile Loaves and Fishes, a nonprofit that has since amassed a fleet of vehicles that make daily rounds to deliver food and clothing to Austin’s homeless...

Talking to people like Mr. Johnston [a homeless Austin resident who Graham had befriended], Mr. Graham came to feel that housing alone was not enough for people who had been chronically homeless, the official term for those who have been homeless for years or repeatedly and have physical or mental disabilities, including substance-use disorders. About a third of the homeless population fits this description, and they are often estranged from family and other networks.

In 2006, Mr. Graham pitched an idea to Austin’s mayor: Create an R.V. park for people coming out of chronic homelessness. It would have about 150 homes, supportive services and easy access to public transportation. Most importantly, it would help to replace the “profound, catastrophic loss of family” he believed was at the root of the problem with a close-knit and supportive community.

The City Council voted unanimously in 2008 to lease Mr. Graham a 17-acre plot of city-owned land to make his vision a reality. Getting the council members on board, he said, turned out to be the easy part.

When residents near the intended site learned of the plan, they were outraged. They feared the development would reduce their property values and invite crime. One meeting to discuss the plan with the neighborhood grew so heated that Mr. Graham was escorted to his car by the police. Not a single one of the 52 community members in attendance voted in favor of the project.

After plans for the city-owned lot fell apart and other proposed locations faced similar resistance, Mr. Graham gave up on trying to build the development within city limits.

In 2012, he instead acquired a plot of land in a part of Travis County just northeast of Austin. It was far from public transportation and other services, but it had one big advantage: The county’s lack of zoning laws limited the power of neighbors to stop it.

Mr. Graham raised $20 million and began to build. In late 2015, Mr. Johnston left the R.V. park he had been living in and became the second person to move into the new village. It grew rapidly. In just two years, Mr. Graham bought an adjacent property, nearly doubling the village’s size to 51 acres and making room for hundreds more residents.

And then in the fall of 2022, he broke ground on the largest expansion yet: Adding two more sites to the village, expanding it by 127 acres to include nearly 2,000 homes.

“No one ever really did what they first did, and no one’s ever done what they’re about to do,” said Mark Hilbelink, the director of Sunrise Navigation Center, Austin’s largest homeless-services provider. “So there’s a little bit of excitement but also probably a little bit of trepidation about, ‘How do we do this right?’”

What it takes to make a village

Since he moved into Community First eight years ago, Mr. Johnston has found the stability that eluded him for so long. Most mornings, he wakes up early in his R.V., feeds his scruffy adopted terrier, Amos, and walks a few minutes down a quiet road to the village garden, where neat rows of carrots, leeks, beets and arugula await his attention.

Mr. Johnston worked in fast-food restaurants for most of his life, but he learned how to garden at the village. He now works full time cultivating produce for a weekly market that is free to residents.

“Once I got here, I said, This is where I’m going to spend pretty much my entire life now,” Mr. Johnston said.

Everyone at the village pays rent, which averages about $385 a month. The tiny homes that make up two-thirds of the dwellings go for slightly lower, but have no indoor plumbing; their residents use communal bathhouses and kitchens. The rest of the units are R.V.s and manufactured homes with their own bathrooms and kitchens.

Like Mr. Johnston, many residents have jobs in the village, created to offer residents flexible opportunities to earn some income. Last year, they earned a combined $1.5 million working as gardeners, landscapers, custodians, artists, jewelry makers and more, paid out by Mobile Loaves and Fishes.

Ute Dittemer, 66, faced a daily struggle for survival during a decade on the streets before moving into Community First five years ago with her husband. Now she supports herself by painting and molding figures out of clay at the village art house, augmented by her husband’s $800 monthly retirement income. A few years ago, a clay chess set she made sold for $10,000 at an auction. She used the money to buy her first car.

“I’m glad that we are not in a low-income-housing apartment complex,” she said. “We’ve got all this green out here, air to breathe.”

A small number of residents have jobs off-site, and a city bus makes hourly stops at the village 13 times a day to help people commute into town.

But about four out of five residents live on government benefits like disability or Social Security. Their incomes average $900 a month, making even tiny homes impossible to afford without help, Mr. Graham said.

“Essentially 100 percent of the people that move into this village will have to be subsidized for the rest of their lives,” he said.

For about $25,000 a year, Mr. Graham’s organization subsidizes one person’s housing at the village. (Services like primary health care and addiction counseling are provided by other organizations.) So far, that has been paid for entirely by private donations and in small part from collecting rent.

This would not be possible, Mr. Graham said, without a highly successful fund-raising operation that taps big Austin philanthropists. To build the next two expansions, Mr. Graham set a $225 million fund-raising goal, about $150 million of which has already been obtained from the Michael and Susan Dell Foundation, the founder of the Patrón Spirits Company, Hill Country Bible Church and others.

Support goes beyond monetary donations. A large land grant came from the philanthropic arm of Tito’s Handmade Vodka, and Alamo Drafthouse, an Austin-based cinema chain, donated an outdoor amphitheater for movie screenings. Top architectural firms competed for the chance to design energy-efficient tiny homes free of charge. And every week, hundreds of volunteers come to help with landscaping and gardening or to serve free meals.

Around 55 residents, including 15 children, live in the village as “missionals” — unpaid neighbors generally motivated by their Christian faith to be part of the community.

All missionals undergo a monthslong “discernment process” before they can move in. They pay to live in R.V.s and manufactured homes distinguished by an “M” in the front window. Their presence in the community is meant to guard against the pitfalls of concentrated poverty and trauma.

“Missionals are our guardian angels,” said Blair Racine, a 69-year-old resident with a white beard that hangs to his chest. “They’re people we can always call. They’re always there for us.”

After moving into the village in 2018, Mr. Racine spent two years isolated in his R.V. because of a painful eye condition. But after an effective treatment, he became so social that he was nicknamed the Mayor. Missional residents drive him to get his medication once a week, he said. To their children he is Uncle Blair.

Though the village is open to people of any religious background, it is run by Christians, and public spaces are adorned with paintings of Jesus on the cross and other biblical scenes. The application to live in the community outlines a set of “core values” that refer to God and the Bible. But Mr. Graham said there is no proselytizing and people do not have to be sober or seek treatment to live there.

Mr. Graham lives in a 399-square-foot manufactured home in the middle of the village with his wife, Tricia Graham, who works as the community’s “head of neighbor care.” He said they do not have any illusions about solving the underlying mental-health and substance-use problems many residents live with, and that is not their goal.

“This is absolutely not nirvana,” Mr. Graham said. “And we want people to understand the beauty and the complexity of what we do. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else on the face of the planet than right here in the middle of this, but you’re not fixing these things.” ...

From an experiment to a model

Community First has already inspired spinoffs, with some tweaks. In 2018, Nate Schlueter, who previously worked with the village’s jobs program, opened Eden Village in his hometown, Springfield, Mo. Unlike in Community First, every home in Eden Village is identical and has its own bathroom and kitchen. Mr. Schlueter’s model has spread to 12 different cities with every village limited to 50 homes or fewer.

“Not every city is Austin, Texas,” Mr. Schlueter said. “We don’t want to build a large-scale village. And if the root cause of homelessness is a loss of family, and community is something that can duplicate that safety net to some extent, to have smaller villages to me seemed like a stronger community safety net. Everybody would know each other.”

The rapid growth of Community First has challenged that ideal. In recent years, some of the original missional residents and staff members have left, finding it harder to support the number of people moving into the village. Steven Hebbard, who lived and worked at the village since its inception, left in 2019 when he said it shifted from a “tiny-town dynamic” where he knew everyone’s name to something that felt more like a city, straining the supportive culture that helped people succeed.

Mobile Loaves and Fishes said more staff members had recently been hired to help new residents adjust, but Mr. Graham noted that there was a limit to what any housing provider could do without violating people’s privacy and autonomy.

Despite these concerns, the organization, which had been run entirely on private money, has recently drawn public support. In January 2023, Travis County gave Mobile Loaves and Fishes $35 million in American Rescue Plan Act funds to build 640 units as part of its expansion.

Then four months later came a significant surprise: The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development approved the use of federal housing vouchers, which subsidize part or all of a low-income resident’s rent, for the village’s tiny homes. This will make running the village much more financially sustainable, Mr. Graham said, and may make it a more replicable blueprint for other places.

“That’s a big deal for us, and it’s a big deal on a national basis,” Mr. Graham said. “It’s a recognition that this model, managed the way that this model is, has a role in the system.”

Usually, the government considers homes without indoor plumbing to be substandard, but, in this case, it made an exception by applying the housing standards it uses for single-room-occupancy units. The village still did not meet the required ratio of bathrooms per person, but at the request of Travis County and the City of Austin’s housing officials, who cited Austin’s “severe lack of affordable housing” that made it impossible for some homeless people with vouchers to find anywhere else to live, HUD waived its usual requirements.

In the waiver, a HUD staffer wrote that Mr. Graham told HUD officials over the phone that the proportion of in-unit bathrooms “has not been an issue.” But in conversations with The Times, other homeless-service providers in Austin and some village residents said the lack of in-unit bathrooms is one of the biggest problems people have with living there. It also makes the villages less accessible to people with certain disabilities and health issues that are relatively common among the chronically homeless....

Mr. Graham said that with a doctor’s note, people could secure an R.V. or manufactured home at the village, although those are in short supply and have a long waiting list. He said the village’s use of tiny homes allowed them to build at a fraction of the usual cost when few other options existed, and helps ensure residents aren’t isolated in their units, reinforcing the village’s communal ethos.

“If somebody wants to live in a tiny home they ought to have the choice,” Mr. Graham said, “and if they are poor we ought to respect their civil right to live in that place and be subsidized to live there.” But he conceded that for some people, “this might not be the model.”

“Nobody can be everything for everyone,” he said.

By the spring of 2025, Mr. Graham hopes to begin moving people into the next phase of the village, across the street from the current property. The darker visions some once predicted of an impoverished community on the outskirts of town overtaken by drugs and violence have not come to pass. Instead, the village has permanently housed hundreds of people and earned the approval and financial backing of the city, the county and the federal government. But for the model to truly meet the scale of the challenge in Austin and beyond, Chapman Semple said, the compromises that led to Community First in its current incarnation will have to be reckoned with.

“We can build smaller villages that can be fully integrated into the community, that can have access to amenities within the community that we all need to live, including jobs and groceries,” Chapman Semple said. “If it’s a wonderful model then we should be embracing and fighting for its inclusion within our community.”

-via New York Times, January 8, 2024

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youryurigoddess · 6 months

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Aziraphale has memorized Winnie the Pooh and it’s more important than you think

Basically Neil Gaiman was casually dropping hints about Good Omens 2 plot as early as 2019:

Aziraphale has memorized the Winnie the Pooh books, several Georgette Heyer novels, and Bobo’s Modern Coin Magic, though.

Georgette Heyer was an English novelist and short-story writer, in both the Regency romance (which she has virtually invented, based on extensive historical research as well as Jane Austen’s influences) and detective fiction genres. She used romantic plots and happy endings in both.

That is, with the exception of Penhallow, her 1942 mystery novel explaining how a desperate act intended to bring about good consequences brings only more tragedy in its wake instead (and spoiler alert: murdering a thoroughly unlikeable elderly character doesn’t secure the expected peace or happiness).

J. B. Bobo’s Modern Coin Magic, while not that modern anymore with a publishing date of 1952, provides a complete treatise on sleight of hand coin conjuring, making an excellent companion for those who want to impress and entertain with some classic magic tricks. Including working professional magicians like Fell the Marvelous.

But what about the Winnie the Pooh books? Sure, they offer the ultimate childhood escapist fantasy with a happy-go-lucky story and cheerful characters living in the Garden of— um, Hundred Acre Wood. The original Ashdown Forest is, by the way, located under the South Downs National Park authority.

A. A. Milne has participated in and survived two world wars. Writing was a creative way of talking about his struggles and those of many other individuals affected by trauma, mental health issues and illnesses that are left untreated and undiagnosed. Each of the animals famously symbolizes different disorder.

And according to the major theme of the power of friendship saving the day (with an occasional help of Christopher Robin, who plays his ineffable game as long as his adults let him), even a scary guest turns out not so scary after all, becoming a new friend himself.

#Yuri is doing her thing #good omens #good omens meta #go2 spoilers #go2 meta #go2 #good omens 2 #aziraphale #fell the marvelous #south downs cottage

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hometoursandotherstuff · 5 months

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Whoever designed this 1975, (reno'd in 1984 and stuck there), Morrison, Colorado estate was heavily into stairs, steps and levels. However, their forté was definitely bathrooms. Their creativity is unparalleled. 5bds, 5ba, $2.85M.

Off the main entrance is a living room with built-in shelving. I would be leery of that platform above, though. That piece of driftwood or whatever it is, won't stop a child from falling off.

There's a nice 2 story fireplace and a free-form artistic railing with a lovely mezzanine in the family room. Note the picket fences blocking off 2 of the stairs.

4 steps lead up to the kitchen.

Sunny kitchen with interesting cabinetry and blue glass upper doors to match the style of the home. Love the stove.

The sink is blue, too. The dining room is right off the kitchen.

This is nice. It's such an interesting home with those high open ceilings. I wonder if the plants would convey. A door in the dining room opens to a deck.

The view is stunning. Part of the deck is covered for dining and the larger part is open.

This bath has a black toilet with a compliment of yellow. Interesting carpet or toweling.

Up on the mezzanine is another fireplace and an area used as an office.

Here we have a powder room with a high Victorian style water tank, peachy sink, and floral tile.

This bedroom has a round platform with a square mattress. Not sure it's actually a bed. There's a stepdown office area and doors to the yard.

Double brown sinks with coordinating tile.

And, this. What is the area above? Windows all around, and, levels in the tub. You can see a bit of the stairs at the bottom of the picture.

This is a cute bedroom. There's a little music area and doors to a terrace.

Next is a sauna with a ridiculously steep double shower.

This stair tower leads to the primary suite. This looks like a new addition or reno.

The primary suite is huge with nice rounded built-ins and many steps and levels.

It has 2 high steps to the tub.

And, I don't even see a way to get into this raised shower, except for just climbing.

Large dressing room/closet.

And, finally a romantic rooftop terrace.

There's also a log cabin on the property.

It has a living room, kitchen and one bedroom. Someone definitely lives here.

The property is huge- measures 79.3 acres.

#estates #unusual architecture #houses #house tours #home tour

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cozymaples · 6 months

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desolate. (mike schmidt x reader)

a/n: hi hi hi!! this is my first fic ever..i'm finally succumbing to my creative outlet urges! be nice to her, she's fragile. anyways, enjoy! warnings: slight degradation, brat!tamer mike if u squint, afab reader word count: 2,876

Mike has always been reliable, to a fault. So much so, that you can’t even remember the last time he took a day for himself, let alone five minutes. His days were always jam-packed with watching Abby, or going to job interviews. So when you parents ask you to house-sit for the weekend, you quickly oblige. A quiet lake house, nestled within acres of woods. You’d spent most of your summers there as a child.

“We’ll only be gone for the weekend-” Your mother insists, her maternal tone paired with a series of nods. Your father bustles behind her, carrying their luggage from the house to the car. Your father often left for business meetings, but it was rare that your mother joined him. It was obvious that she too, needed a break. Mike stands next to you, quiet, but not sheepish. It’s one of the qualities that your parents love about him. He’s respectful. Glancing over at him, your mother continues, “And we appreciate you accompanying her, Michael.” He smiles in return, warm and sincere. “Not a problem,” He says with a soft shake of his head, easing your mother’s nerves. “It’s just desolate out here, and I wouldn’t want her to be out here-” “Alone,” You finish, offering a lighthearted smile that mirrored your mothers. “Alright, alright,” She says, throwing her hands up with defeat. You’re nearly pushing her out the door, saying your goodbyes and waving as they drive away.

You give Mike a tour of the house that seems mundane at first, but you quickly realize just how much of the house there is. It never seemed this big to you before, accustomed to your parents wealth since birth. But as you pass through the fourth..fifth..sixth room before even getting to the bedrooms, your embarrassment is evident. A flush spreads across your features, heat rising to your cheeks. The notion that has crept into your thoughts has now lingered, still festering as you lay next to Mike in the darkness. “It seems so brash now. It’s almost nauseating,” You comment, and you wonder if he can hear you wince in the dark. He chuckles softly, pulling you further into his side. “It’s fine,” He insists, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Sure, you think to yourself. You know full well that it’s your anxiety fuelling this-the ridiculous notion that it was selfish to bring Mike here-obnoxious, even. Given his living situation with Abby who was currently being babysat by Jane, against his better judgment.

“I could’ve come out here by myself-” You attempt to protest. “Not a chance.”

That’s the last thing you remember before dozing off, wrapped in his arms. You stir, waking up at the other side of the bed, whining softly as you glance over at the time. Your phone shines obnoxiously in your face.

3:32 A.M

It causes you to squint, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Since you’ve managed to writhe yourself out of Mike’s arms during your sleep, you’re confident that you won’t wake him as you tread downstairs for a glass of water. You grab a cup, filling it to the brim before drinking it graciously. A few minutes pass, allowing you to bask in the silence that surrounds you. The wind is harsh outside, ripping through the extensive pine trees. The moonlight barely helps your sight, providing the only source of vision that was barely there to begin with. As you glance out the window, a figure emerges from the stairwell, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. Your body relaxes not a second later, knowing you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere. “Jesus, Mike.” You exhale, clutching your chest. “Sorry,” He slurs, voice laced with exhaustion. “Just wondered where you went.” The trees continue to rustle, the wind ripping through them unrelentingly. You hum in response to his statement, resting your weight on the kitchen island behind you-extending your arms to rest your weight on the marbled wood.

“Just needed water.” You say, eyes finally adjusting to the darkness. “Hm.” He responds. Meeting you halfway, he nudges his knee between your legs, allowing you to press your full frame against him, leaving no space between neither him, nor the island. His chest is nearly pressed to yours, and you glance up at him, breath hitched in your throat. “What?” You ask, suddenly feeling a surge of nerves course through your body. It feels like he’s studying you. He shrugs cooly, lips pursed together for a moment. “Nothing,” He states. “That’s all you needed?” He asks, glancing down at you.

You never realize how tall Mike actually is, not until moments like this, where he’s towering over you-forcing his frame against your own. “Mm-hmm.” You nod, but you know it’s not true. You’re starting to think he knows, too. “That’s all?” He repeats, the feeling of his knee between your legs prominent now. You try to camouflage the fact that you’ve shifted your weight against his knee to gain some sort of relief, but all he does is jolt it higher. The friction earns a hiss from you, feeling the pressure deliciously against your clothed clit. “Fuck, Mike-” You sigh, now wanting to chase the feeling. His hands rest on either side of you, clutched to the marble countertop you’re resting against. “Don’t think I don’t know, angel. Don’t doubt it for a second.” You shudder an exhale, closing your eyes for a moment. He knows. “You think I don’t know when you want something?” He coos, hands traveling to your waist. His large palms press into your hips, gently tugging you down further onto his knee. “Tryin’ to get off, huh?” He asks, brows furrowing with certainty. It’s almost condescending, but you nod anyway. You like it. “Ah.” He notes, observantly. “Think I don’t know when you’re tryin’ to rub your clit against me? Hoping-wishing I’d fuck you, huh?”

The words make your head spin, especially considering the fact that no one knew this Mike. The Mike that would talk dirty to you, condescending and mean, bullying his cock between your legs before fucking into you. You can feel the cotton of his sweatpants brush against your bare thigh, sighing softly as you open your eyes. “I-” You try, but he denies you. Keeping a hand on your waist to hold you in place, he allows his free hand to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him. You rest into his palm, his fingers pressing gently into your cheeks as he looks at you. “Tell me you want it.” He says, stern. “Want what?” You retort. Usually this works-just playing dumb until he can’t take it anymore, bending you over the nearest surface. You were halfway there.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you.” He nods, eyes widened just slightly. He says each word slowly, dragging it with intent, as if you can’t comprehend what he’s saying. “You understand what I’m saying, baby? Or has the thought of being a slut for me already made you fuckin’ dumb?” Your lips part slightly, desperate and needy as his words emerge. “Fine,” You breathe, succumbing to your own needs. “I want you to fuck me,” You say, barely able to get the words out. “Please.”

That’s all he needs before he’s lifted you upwards, placing you back down on the kitchen island. The swiftness of it all startles you, gasping softly before realizing you’re okay. He hitches his arms underneath your knees, tugging gently to guide you to lay on your back. You cooperate, really having no choice with the way you’re positioned at the moment-not that you’re complaining. You’d borrowed one of his tee shirts for sleeping, paired with a pair of your panties, as you always did. You were never a fan of wearing pants to sleep, just opting to use Mike to keep you warm. The choice of sleepwear is useful now, the cotton of the tee shirt bunched just below your tits, legs spread open for him. “Bet you’re so fuckin’ wet,” He kisses along your flesh, his words mumbled against your thigh through a string of kisses. He presses his thumb against your panties to confirm his suspicions. They’re nothing short of wet, and he nuzzles his thumb against your clit, rubbing gentle circles as he nips at your flesh. It causes you to whine, twitching slightly with every movement, chasing any pleasure he could give you with a buck of your hips.

“Yeah?” He asks, a smug grin on his features. “Yeah,” You nod, growing desperate. “Yes, Mike, please-want you to fuck me-” Tongue in cheek, he chuckles, placing a final kiss just below your knee before stepping back to admire you. “Yeah, I’ll bet.” He agrees, continuing to rub agonizing circles against your clit. A desperate pout creeps onto your features, lifting your hips slightly before he presses them back down. You shiver at the coolness of the countertop, feeling it cling to your flesh as he works on you. “M’cold-” You protest, glancing down at him through hooded lids.

“I know.” He says, seemingly in his own world, ten steps ahead of you as his eyes study your frame. He draws his hands back, only to hook them under the seam of your panties, tugging them down your legs before discarding them.

“Mike-” Is the last thing you can murmur before his lips are on your clit, working in unison with his tongue. You throw your head back, mindful of the marble beneath you. “Shit-!” You gasp, fingers anchoring in his locks. He pulls back, hooking his arms under your knees, tugging you closer to him. “Told you I know, didn’t I?” He scolds, looking up at you. “Heard you say it the first time. Can’t wait five fuckin’ seconds for me to make you warm, hm?” He challenges. You can just barely make out his features now. “M’sorry-” You whine, softly. “Yeah, I know.” He states,. “Fuckin’ brat is what you are.” You’re not sure if your mouth opens to protest or agree, but he gives you no time to make your decision, latching his mouth to your pussy once more. Your fingers find their familiarity in his hair again, tightening with each pass of his tongue against your clit. It’s freezing, both outside and inside, the warmth of his mouth against you providing the only solace. “God-” You whimper, eyes closed as his mouth pulls moans from you effortlessly.

“Look at me.” He says, nipping the flesh of your thigh. You hiss, whining softly as your eyes meet his, head lulling downwards. “You wanna come?” He asks. You nod rapidly, feeling a familiar warmth nestle in the pit of your stomach. “Yes, please,” You beg, almost embarrassed of how needy you are. “Then look at me.”

You know Mike loves you, adores you, even. He always shows you. In his words, in his actions. When you first started dating, your apartment looked like nothing short of a greenhouse. Bouquets and bundles of flowers adorned each wall, and then surfaces, when you ran out of places to hang them up, and vases to put them in. So when he tells you to look at him, to listen, you always comply. He was the first and only person to break you out of your spoiled-only-child phase, since no one else was there to do it for you. Your parents gave you everything you could ever want, handed on a silver platter. Until you met Mike. It was refreshing to see someone work for what they wanted, and not have a free pass for everything. And now, each time he’s got you like this, you work for what you want.

You vigorously nod in response, pouting with desperation as your eyes stay fixed on his. You prop yourself up onto your elbows to get a better look, and he nods approvingly. “Good girl.” He praises, lips immediately latching to your clit. His tongue works against it, pressing sloppy kisses against the bundle of nerves before sliding two fingers inside of you. “Shit-!’ You whine, hearing the salacious sounds as his fingers pump in and out of you, paired with the precision of his tongue. You feel yourself getting close, hips raising up to chase his mouth. Before you can even speak, his actions cease entirely, drawing his fingers back before standing in front of you. “Are you fuckin’ serious?” He asks, brows furrowed as he tugs you up. Your pussy is dripping, slick against the countertop as you sit up. His hand twists into your hair, forcing you to look up at him. “Told you I’d make you come, and you think you can just have it without telling me?” Your lips are parted, stammering with guilt as he scolds you. “I just-it felt so good, and I-”

“Open your mouth.” He instructs, feeding you the two fingers that had worked inside of you. Your mouth opens further, tongue laying dormant on your lower lip as he slides his fingers into your mouth, lips latching around them to taste yourself. It causes his guard to drop, but only a little, his gaze growing hazy as he watches you suck the taste of yourself off of his fingers. “Fuck,” He breathes, feeling his cock strain in his pants. He doesn’t allow himself to get lost in it, though-grabbing your hips again. Withdrawing his fingers, he allows you to stand on the floor, spinning you around as he bends you over the countertop. His hand has miraculously stayed interwoven in your hair, tugging it back as he works his other hand on getting his cock out. “Tell me you want it.” He says, and you finally feel his cock rubbing against your slick, the head gently pressing against your clit with each swipe. He has his chest against your back, holding you sturdy by your hair. He uses the opportunity to plant kisses along your neck, soothing each nip of your flesh with his tongue. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.” Your head feels dizzy with lust, barely able to focus on the words coming out of his mouth. “Fuck me, please-God, Mike-” You beg, nearing tears. “Please, I want you to-”

And with that, he pushes your chest against the countertop, fingers still guarded in your hair as he slides his cock into you, earning a satisfactory moan from each of you. “Fuck, sweetheart, forgot how fuckin’ tight you are.” Despite him fucking into you, you catch him whimpering above you, attempting to conceal it as he pounds into you. “Mike-” You plead, feeling his palm connect with the flesh of your ass. “Always have to be a fuckin’ brat,” He says. “Thought I fucked that out of you already, yeah?” He asks, moans spilling from your mouth as you hear his balls slap against your flesh with each thrust. “Startin’ to think you act this way on purpose-need me to fuck it out of you.” He manages through sharp exhales, allowing his palm to connect with your ass once more. “Fuck-!” You whine, the balance of pain and pleasure nearly sending you over the edge, “Fuck! Yes, okay-” You pant, “Sometimes-sometimes, I do it on purpose.” He moans in response, his pace of thrusts increasing. “Fuck, baby, that’s all you need, yeah? Need me to fuck it out of you?” You hum in agreement, nodding as much as you can with his grip on your hair. “God, you’re so fuckin’ sexy-” He pants, and you can tell he’s close, too. “You were honest, yeah? Bein’ my good girl? Think I should let you come for tellin’ the truth, yeah?” He leans down, murmuring in your ear as he fucks into you. You nod rapidly now that he’s loosened up on your hair, his free hand holding you steady as he snaps his hips, fucking his cock into you. “Please, please-” You keen, palms flat against the countertop beneath you both.

“Come for me, then. Come for me, baby-” He encourages, reaching a hand around your waist to rub his fingers against your clit. You fold, succumbing to his touch as that warmth catches up with you, knees buckling as you come around his cock. He holds you steady, making sure you don’t fall, pressing you against the countertop. “There she is.” He coos, brushing your hair out of your face. “Come in me-” You beg, “Come in me, please-” That’s all he needs before he’s moaning your name, woven in with a string of other praises. He can finally breathe again, both of you fighting for air with deep and rapid inhales.

He spins you back around to face him, finishing off brushing all the stray hairs out of your face. His expression is giddy, and lovestruck. You mirror his expression, too worked up to even speak. Cradling your face in his hands, he presses his lips to yours, holding you tenderly for a moment. “God, I love you. So fuckin’ much.” He breathes, and you can hear him grinning. “I love you.” You say, and you mean it, equally as lovestruck and doe-eyed. “Always have,” He says, grinning. You blush. “Always will.”

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