#Bar Grabber

[super-vee]

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[link-links]

i wonder if kevin ever hides stuff on the top cabinet shelves because he knows andrew and neil can’t see it lmao

[grubloved]

as of right now only four people total work at my old bakery because everybody quit this week

[tossawary]

It's funny to think about a scenario in which Luke manages to get Yoda off Dagobah and bring him back to the Rebellion. Maybe Obi-Wan left a message with R2 as a backup plan or something, so Luke got the message much earlier. Yoda is still too old and injured to fight, but he can train Luke while moving around as the Rebellion's new grandpa (and potentially reunite with characters like Ahsoka and Kanan and Cal and so on).

This AU is important to me because how it would look from an Outsider's POV:

"Uhhh, Luke," Han said. "What's that?"

"What's what?" Luke said, turning to look across the hangar bay. "Oh. That's Master Yoda. I went to Dagobah to get him, remember?"

Han studied the small, green, vaguely amphibious creature with long pointy ears and wisps of white hair, crouched underneath Luke's X-Wing and steadily eating its way though a bucket of... what the hell were those things? Eggs?

"That's your great Master Yoda?" Han said dubiously. He couldn't have helped it, so he didn't even try not to sound skeptical. "The one who's going to train you and Her Royal Highness in this... uh... penetrating life field magic?"

Those ragged brown blankets that it seemed to be wearing looked not unlike the dusty robes that Luke's old man had been shuffling around in, before getting killed back on the Death Star. Maybe.

"He's the wisest and most powerful Jedi Master alive," Luke said, like he was determined to be upbeat about it. "He's 900 years old. He said."

Han watched the creature dig around in the bucket some more, nearly sticking the entire upper half of its body inside. Its long ears wilted when it came up empty. It sat back with a loud, high-pitched harrumph and its wrinkled face scrunched up like a fruit rotting all at once.

"Yeah," Han said. "He looks it."

Luke shot him a betrayed look and Han just shrugged. He didn't have a problem with the kid and the princess finding some comfort in some hokey old religion. The kid's family had apparently been killed by troopers the day that Han had met him and Leia had watched her entire planet be destroyed, so whatever touchy-feely nonsense helped them deal with that helped.

But that didn't mean that Han wasn't going to call it like he saw it- "Uh, kid, is that your storage unit he's searching now?"

Luke groaned and put his head in his hands. "I left some ration bars in there, I think. I bet he can smell them."

This great Jedi Master was making a real mess of it. He threw one of Luke's things over his shoulder, where the tool hit R2-D2, and the small droid immediately let out a shocked series of beeps and chirps. The outraged blare when the droid traced the missile back to Yoda was even louder.

Han watched as the droid whirred briskly up to Yoda, then reached out with an extended grabber and yanked at the old Jedi's stick. Yoda shrieked in surprise. A tug-o-war started, which looked like it was going to have one or both of them falling over.

"Oh, no," Luke said.

People around the hangar bay were starting to stare. Han couldn't look away.

The droid released the wooden stick and Yoda let out a cry of triumph. Which turned into a yelp of pain, because R2-D2 had just zapped him with another extended tool, which crackled like a threat that the droid would do it again. Yoda's response was to smack the droid with his stick, repeatedly, grunting with the effort - and the loud clanging caught the attention of everyone who hadn't already been looking.

"You gonna, uh, you gonna do something about that?" Han said to the kid.

Luke sighed heavily, which definitely meant that this wasn't the first time something like this had happened. He stood up and waded into the mess, catching the stick with one hand and physically pushing the droid back with the other, ordering the old astromech and older Jedi Master to knock it off. He sounded just like a parent about to hand out some punishments.

R2-D2 beeped petulantly at Luke.

"I don't care who started it!" Luke said, his exasperation carrying. "This time or last time-! Ow!"

The great Jedi Master had just smacked Luke in the shin with that stick. Luke hopped on one foot for a few seconds, biting down on what probably would have been some nasty Huttese cursing. Yoda harrumphed again and then lurched back over towards his empty egg bucket.

R2-D2 made a sound that Han had, whether he liked it or not, already come to recognize meant: "I told you so."

"Oh, fuck off," Luke snapped.

Han threw back his head and laughed.

[l0llipopandlady]

// will u guyz get mad at m 4 sayin anything .. ab him ?

[taliseby]

Say My Name

Terms of endearment/petnames for their GF

Inc. Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Law, Kid, Ace, Sabo. Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Warnings/Content: Nothin! Fluff/sfw. Uses of feminine names (Princess, pretty girl, woman, etc)

Monkey D. Luffy

Your name/nickname he's given you: Pretty self explanatory, luffy is a simple guy and usually just resorts to using your name or a nickname. He gives everyone nicknames, it's his thing. Most of all though, he loves your name. He'll use it more than anything else. 

Baby: Simple, classic, and easy to remember. Probably the one he uses secondary. Mostly to get out of trouble or softened you up for something. You'll know he's feeling lovey when he gives you a sweet “Babyyyy~” and a gummy smile. 

Peaches: This one is a rarity and it's effect is just as delicate. He definitely doesn't use it often and it tends to only come out when he's worried about you or you guys are alone. He just thinks you're sweet as a peach and thinks the name fits you well. “Come on, peaches, get up!”

Roronoa Zoro

Your name: Also a big user of just your first name. Sometimes it can seem cold or even distant, but the truth is that he likes your name more than any term of endearment. It suits you and makes his heart race when he hears someone else say it. When others say your name, his head immediately pivots to see what is being said. 

Woman: Yep…unfortunately. This is a common word in his vocabulary for you. No matter how many times you scold or hit him for it, he won't stop using it. Mainly when he's annoyed or needs your attention quick. He likes the scowl you send his way when he uses it. “Woman, let's check out the bar.” “Come on, woman.” “Woman.” 

Pretty/Pretty girl: Oh ain't he sweet. Only really uses this in privet settings. He's already not big on pda or anything like that so you'll only hear this when you're alone. Explanation? He thinks you're pretty. In fact, you're the prettiest woman he's ever met and he wants you to know that. You're his pretty girl and you deserve the world. “Oh, come on, pretty girl. You know I didn't mean it.” “So sweet to me, aren't you, pretty?”

Vinsmoke Sanji

Darling: Now, this man has a treasure trove of petnames for you. He's constantly switching it up and using ones to see what you like most. But Darling is dear to his heart. His darling.~ He loves it so much because it sounds so nice and makes his heart flutter remembering that he finally got the girl. 

Princess: You're his princess through and through. The one he protects and acts like a knight in shining armor for. This one is used a bit more casually than the others, usually just naturally slipping off his tongue. Honestly, probably his go to just because it's simple and yet elegant. It describes perfectly how he sees you. “Princesssssss! Is there anything you need? Can I get you anything?” 

Sweet pea: Not too common but definitely an attention grabber. Mostly uses this when you help him cook or you're attention is elsewhere. He'll throw you a little “Hey, sweet pea?” And melts when you respond. 

Angel: Feels also self explanatory. You aren't JUST his princess, you're his angel. I mean, you picked him of all people to love, that much make you an angel.

Trafalgar D. Water Law

Your name: Another victim of name dropping. Mostly just when you are around others because God forbid anyone knows he's capable of love. He's just a privet guy and prefers to leave the softer, lovey names for when it's just you together. 

Brat (affectionately): Usually when he feels you aren't listening. He'll pinch the bridge of his nose and call you a brat while trying to stave off a headache and a smile. Also uses it when he'd scolding you. 

Babe: Simple and nice. He uses it more casually, often if you're helping him with work. 

My heart: Okay, I know this one is really common but it just suits him so well! Only said in the dim hours of the night, when he thinks you're asleep. Every time he says it he feels so vulnerable, even if you can't hear him. The sweet name mumbles into the skin of your temple before he's drifting off to sleep.

Eustass “Captain” Kid

Lass: OKAY HEAR ME OUT!! This specific nickname went away after a while. Mostly used condescendingly but occasionally with concern if you got hurt. Once he was more comfortable with you he definitely switched things up. Ex. “Bring the lass here!” “Come on, lass. Lighten up a bit, would ya?” “I’m sorry, lass, do you need a bandaid?” 

Babe/Baby: Pretty interchangeable for him. His most common term of endearment for you because it's the least embarrassing for him to say. He may be a cocky bastard, but he's so embarrassed about being open about your relationship. He IS open about it, but it never fails to leave a dusting of pink on his cheeks. 

Brat: Used just as much as babe/baby because to him it means the same thing. “Come here, brat.” “What did you say, brat??” “You're lucky you're cute, brat.” “...love you too…brat.”

Portgas D. Ace

Babe: Go to. It's the most common name he's heard others use, so he kind of just adopted it when you started dating. Honestly, he kind of loves using it too. Getting to call you his babe just makes him feel warm (and not from his devil fruit.)

Cutie: He likes how flustered it gets you. Calling you cutie makes that heat rise to your cheeks and he just adores it. Loves cupping your face in his hands and feeling the warmth of your cheeks as he coos the name. “Aww, cutie, are you flustered?” 

Firefly/Hotstuff/firecracker/etc: Man thinks he's funny. He also loves using silly references to his devil fruit because it makes you smile.

“Revolutionary” Sabo

Love/My love: You're his love. His heart. The apple of his eye. This endearment just comes so naturally to him that it's what he uses most. He often lowers his voice when he says it, meant for your attention alone. “My love, can I have a moment?” “Thank you for the help, love.” Could you hold my hat, love?” 

Pretty girl: Another user of the sweet name. Like Zoro, he really just thinks you're pretty. He'll kiss you on the cheek or shoulder and smile at you while saying the term of endearment in a sweet tone. “Sorry I was gone so long, pretty girl. I missed you.” 

Your name: Another common user of your name. He just loves saying your name. Honestly see him as the type to say something like “My (name)” just because you are his. His love, his pretty girl, his.

[jokeringcutio]

DRABBLE/ Insomnia!READER X THE GRABBER

Fandom: Black Phone 2022

Pairing: The Grabber/ Albert Shaw x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: Kidnapping, Dark!, Non-con/Dub-con, Forced!Blowjob, Smut, Insomnia!Reader, Kidnapped!Reader, Victim!Reader. Implied age gap/ older man/younger woman, somnophilia, use of Little/good Girl.

AN: for @ninakuli How would the Grabber react if the reader couldn’t get to sleep? Well, this might be one of the ways.

->

“Can’t sleep?”

The rough voice made you look up from your position lying on the moldy mattress. You wondered how anyone could sleep here. A stranger’s house, a damp basement, an unknown environment. The walls were bare except for the painting peeling down. The tiny barred window that let in the only light, whether it was day or night because of the lamp that hung in front of it, was up too high. The walls absorbed any sound. It was a prison made with hellish barriers.

And then there was that stranger who came watching. You never knew when he would be down here. Never knew what he would do next. It had you on edge. How could anyone ever sleep when he was around?

So far, he’d mostly been down to watch you, talk to you, work on your mind until his words confused you and you started to believe you’d ended up here all because of your own doing. That you deserved being here.

But there had been that one time when you had pretended to have been asleep, eyes closed, in hopes he would become bored and turn away. But instead of leaving, you had heard his breathing deepen. And then you had felt his hand between your thighs, fingers pressing deep into your clothed skin until one finger curled against your covered cunt. You could still feel his fingertip press against your sensitive bud. The touch hadn’t lasted long, for you’d shot up instantly and his hand had been back by his side almost just as fast. But you were certain it had not been a dream.

And now you were scared of him. Frightened, that if you were to go to sleep, he might take you in it. That he might claim your body as his own when you could not fight back.

Anxiety ate you, piece by piece until it wrecked your nerves and made you shiver with fearful anticipation. Any sound would trigger a panicked reaction and would have you sit up and open your eyes. Because he is here again, isn’t he? Even when he wasn’t. You were constantly alert, ready to shy away from any advances he might try to make.

And so, you blinked up at him fearfully while you wondered what he would be doing next. He’d commented on your lack of sleep the past few times he’d been down there, annoyed that he couldn’t watch you sleep like he had the others. You didn’t know how many had been here before you, only that he somehow seemed to enjoy observing them when they weren’t awake.

Creep, you thought. You wondered if he got off of it. And why he couldn’t just enjoy you while you were awake?

Perhaps that had been a wrong thought to have, because what he said next made shivers run down your spine.

“I know just the thing.” Just the thing for what? To make you sleepy? You wondered for a moment if he referred to some kind of drug, or if he might just knock you out with one of his fists. But he did neither.

He cocked his head to the side, the mask’s chin pointed at his right shoulder. He was observing you, his stance pensively. What was he thinking? But then you regretted that thought when the man came over to you, coming closer than he had in the past few days.

“An ancient old medicine,” he said, voice low and gruff, while he started to unbuckle his belt. And that was the moment you realized what he might be implying. What he might want from you. He probably had wanted this all along.

Your eyes grew wide with fear as you tried to crawl back on the mattress until your back hit the wall and you couldn’t back away any further. “It has proven to be very effective over time,” his husky voice sounded. Then a chuckle emerged from behind the mask as he pushed his pants and underpants down to reveal an achingly hard cock, pre-cum dripping from the tip and glistening in the faint light that fell in from the window above.

The belt was wrapped around his right fist, the end of it dangling in front of you.

You tried to shield your eyes with your hands. “Please,” you begged when you noticed he’d stepped even closer and completely ignored the fact that you had tried to get away. “No, please,” his hand was upon your wrist, yanking it away to uncover your eyes. You looked up at him, tears glistening in your eyes, while you pleaded for him to spare you. “I’ll go to sleep,” you said, voice choked by tears. “Please, I’ll be good. I’ll go to sleep. You don’t need to do this.”

He paused in his actions and there was that tilt of his head again as he studied you through the hole-eyes of the mask. The belt dropped from his hand and fell to the basement floor with a clank.

His right hand came up to your cheek and you flinched, afraid he might slap you there. But his touch was gentle, his palm lightly upon your skin. You opened your eyes again to look up at him mistrustingly and wished you could tell what kind of expression he held behind that darned mask he was wearing.

You couldn’t tell. All you knew was that he was taking his time, standing there, only inches away from you. He was gently caressing your cheek, his thumb tracing circles. The motion was soothing as if he was trying to comfort you. It worked as well, for you felt your shoulders relax somewhat, despite your brain being on full alert.

His other hand was holding his cock. The aching hard member twitched in his grip as a new spurt of pre-cum droplets emerged from the tip. You tried not to look at it, which was hard as his shaft was on eye-level with you, ready to be brought to your lips.

Would he do it? You wondered how far he would go. He hadn’t touched you before like this. He’d been mostly at a distance. Except for that one time. But it figured he would eventually succumb to these primal desires. Why else had he taken you? If it had been just to kill then he would have done so already. Why keep you alive if not for this?

You whimpered, slightly trembling under his caress. A low hum escaped the masked man, then he stood straight again and you saw him move his upper body. The vest he was wearing fell open, his naked stomach showed. Round, you thought, pudgy. Yet, the muscles that showed on his chest betrayed your kidnapper was a man of strength. A strength that was confirmed almost instantly when he suddenly reached for you.

You felt your head being yanked towards him, and his shaft that had been angled at your lips was now pressed against them, begging you to spread them wide. He kept pushing, roughly, until the meat was between your lips and the head of his cock was upon your tongue. The salty taste of flesh mixed with the bitterness of the pre-cum filled your mouth and you hollowed your cheeks. And then he started to thrust.

You looked up at him, pleading silently for his mercy. But at the sight of your tear-stained eyes, his thrusts grew even fiercer and his grip on your head even tighter. You were left with no alternative but to suck, accepting his cock deep inside your throat.

Low, deep rumbles came from the depth of his chest when you started to cooperate. He was pleased, humming and moaning ‘oh yeah’ and ‘just like that’. Sounds that vibrated through his cock until you felt them in your mouth.

Dirty, your mind provided you while he moved you up and down his shaft. The salty and bitter taste of him filled you completely. The curly hairs around his manhood pressed into your nostrils when he pushed your head forward, blocking off your chance to breathe. You sputtered around him, feeling the tip at the back of your throat, feeling his cock spasm between your lips.

You gurgled and sputtered, trying not to choke. A moment of respite when he slid your head back again and his cock nearly left your lips, but then he pushed forward again until his hips met your cheek and your nose was nestled deep within his pubic hair.

You gasped and tried to claw at his hips, but all you felt was how he kept a tight grip on your head and stilled his movements, leaving his cock deep between your lips, the head pushing the back of your throat.

The process repeated itself a few more times, until his cock finally slipped from your lips and you were left gasping for air. A trail of sperm and saliva dripped from your lips and ran down your chin. You moved your hand up to wipe it away, but he caught your wrist before you could get there.

Staring up at him with wide eyes, you heard a chuckle derive from behind the mask. “Na-ah,” the man tusked, his low gravelly voice making something twist deep inside you. A longing, a tingle that had you squeezing your legs together. A foreboding feeling washed over you, that he wasn’t finished just yet. That this was only the beginning.

“Leave it there,” the man hummed. The pause that followed felt too long, making you writhe uncomfortably while you waited for him to either speak or let go of your hand. In the end, he did both, nearly at the same time. “I think I will have to cover your face in a layer of my spunk next time,” there was that rasp again. You had heard it before, how he could slide from a normal, almost gentle tone, into a demonic rasp that was usually used when he was angry and full of curses. “Paint your face a nice white with my cum,” he clicked his tongue behind the mask. His voice became lighter again.

“But for now, there’s another way I have in mind to tire you.”

You shivered at the promise and tried to back away again. The man in front of you got hold of his throbbing cock, wrapping his left hand around it. You saw how his fingers curled around the glistening shaft, still covered in your saliva, and watched how the veins throbbed when he moved his hand up and down at a firm but gentle pace. The ring on his finger glinted in the weak light, skin rippling as he pumped his hand up and down his throbbing cock. Still hard. Balls underneath heavy with cum.

“Undress, sweetie,” he cooed, voice soft like honey.  But when you refused to do as he said, his tone turned drier and more menacing again.

What happened next was much of a blur. He made you undress for him, tweak your nipples for him, rub your hands up and down your bare chest for him while he watched and laughed and licked his tongue past his teeth at the show. His hand never ceased moving up and down slowly, hardening himself underneath his touch until he thought it was enough.

 “Spread your legs, sweetheart,” it took only one command and you were back on your back on the mattress. Your bare back scrubbed along the mold. Even covered in the dark shade of the mask, you could see the glistening of his eyes, pupils wide. You hesitatingly spread your legs for him.

He crawled over you, cock still in his hand, and pressed your legs apart to fit himself in between. His right hand was on your thigh, palm pressed against your soft skin. His left hand guided his cock to your quivering cunt until you felt the head kiss your labia. A wet feeling against your pussy lips and you realized he was smearing his pre-cum at your entrance, deliberately rubbing the head of his cock up and down your entrance while some of the pre-cum came seeping out.

Your fingers clawed at his shoulders and your lips parted in a gasp. “Please,” you begged, knowing it to be futile. Then he dipped in, just the head. Careful fingers pressed the tip in. Not enough to hurt yet, just enough to tease.

He paused in his actions just to bend down, his hair brushed against your cheek as he whispered near your face. “That’s my good girl.”

Then he thrust forth without mercy.

You were speared upon his cock that night, in the basement that was your prison. He left you sore and tired as he forced orgasm after orgasm out of your trembling body beneath him.

He’d been right. You closed your eyes and fell into a dreamless slumber afterward, relieved when he finally rose from the bed and left you alone. You were too tired to notice when the Grabber returned for you in the midst of the night to get some more relief. Until you faintly awoke to wet sounds and the odd feeling of something thrusting deep inside you.

“Hush, pretty girl,” the low voice whispered in your ear, hips moving relentlessly while he kept pushing himself inside. One hand was on your breast, squeezing it tightly while he toyed with you. His other arm was around your waist, his knee between your legs as he held you from behind, your cunt squeezing down on his cock which was covered in your mixed juices.

“I’ll make you go to sleep soon, little one. Don’t you worry. I’ll make you sleep real deep.”  

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Avoiding your husband wasn't the best way to deal with your problems. Neither was baiting him into having a conversation that you knew was going to annoy him. But you were frustrated with work and your body, and somehow you knew Bradley would never blame you for any of it. 

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, swearing

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

You had been trying for weeks to tolerate having Cat in your lab and your workspace. She was a great addition to your team. Quick and smart. Everyone else seemed to think she was wonderful. But you... just didn't.

Or rather, Cat didn't seem to like you. There must have been something about you that just rubbed her the wrong way. Other than a greeting each morning when you saw each other, she tended to steer clear of you, preferring to work near Macy and Sonya. 

You tried not to let it bug you, but it was hard when Jake was constantly stopping in to see you at work. He was an attention grabber. He was obviously handsome. And he was obviously also not your husband. So you started getting a few looks here and there from your coworkers. And you knew it was all because he thought Cat was gorgeous and wouldn't stay out of your lab. 

"What are you doing here?" you asked him one afternoon when he walked in and leaned on the counter next to where you were working on a line of code on your computer. "I just saw you last night at the bar."

"Just saying hi to my favorite engineer," he drawled, eyes resting on Cat where she was working across the room. When she glanced up at Jake, her eyes were softer than they ever were for you. 

You turned on your stool to face him. "Why can't you just be honest with me?" you asked him. "You're transparent to me, Seresin."

He looked down his nose at you and raised one eyebrow. "This is a two way street, Angel. And you've not been honest with me."

You looked at him, brow scrunched up. "What are you talking about?"

He sighed. "You're avoiding your husband. He was looking for you at lunchtime today. I don't want to listen to you whining about how much you miss him next time he's deployed when you're avoiding him now."

Your heart lurched. If Jake noticed how you'd been acting the past few days, then Nat probably did too. And you did not enjoy being on the receiving end of her temper when Bradley got angsty because of you. 

"I'm not," you whispered. But you kind of were. Your period was due tomorrow, and your thoughts were once again consumed with buying a pregnancy test on your way home from work. Which was ridiculous. Because you knew how you were going to react when it was negative. You were going to spiral again. You were going to upset Bradley again. He kept telling you that none of this was your fault, but you just weren't so sure. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jake asked you softly, his blue eyes fully focused on you instead of Cat. But you shook your head and looked down at your hands in your lap.

"No. Not right now."

"Hey," he said, and you looked up at him. "Whenever you want some girl talk, I'm your man."

You laughed out loud, drawing the attention of your labmates, including Cat. "Thanks, Jake."

"Now," he drawled, leaning against the counter on one elbow, "can you please put in a good word for me?" He nodded toward Cat, and you just rolled your eyes.

"I would, but I don't even know if she's single. She doesn't like me very much."

Jake's eyes went wide. "Everyone likes you."

You just shook your head and said, "Not her. But I need to work on a bunch of proposals and shit with her this month, so I'm going to try my best to get her to crack."

"When you do, make sure you tell her what a stand up guy your good friend Jake is."

You ended up kicking him out shortly after that. And then you texted Bradley.

I love you, Roo. Movie night later?

Then you took a deep breath and grabbed your computer and made your way over to Cat. "Have a few minutes to look at these proposals or maybe check some of my coding?"

"Sure," she replied, pulling out the stool next to hers with her foot. 

"Thanks," you mumbled, making yourself comfortable. "I just finished reworking this code if you want to take a look."

Cat sighed and pulled your computer a little closer. "I know this is how you do things around here, but there's a more efficient way."

You looked at her out of the corner of your eye. "Oh. Okay... well, maybe you can show me?"

Now she was the one looking at you cautiously. She sighed again and started typing away on your computer silently, just leaving you to watch what she was doing. You had to admit, she did have an efficient way of working. 

"Hey, Baby Girl."

You spun around to find your husband standing behind you. 

"Roo," you sighed, hopping up from your stool and wrapping your arms around him.

"I missed you at lunch. Ended up dumping hot sauce all over my food to drown out my loneliness."

You laughed against his chest. "Sorry."

He kissed the top of your head and told you, "You want a movie night? I'll stop and get some beer on the way home."

But you shook your head and looked up at him. "I actually need some other stuff at the store, so I'll grab the beer."

He nodded and smiled at you. "Sounds perfect."

"Wait, did you come all the way up here instead of just texting me back?"

Bradley leaned down close to your ear. "I would do anything for an excuse to see you."

The warmth of his words washed over your body just as Cat cleared her throat. You turned to look at her with embarrassment all over your face. 

"Uh, Cat, you remember my husband, Bradley?" you asked awkwardly. 

"Yes," she said in a curt voice. "We've met. He's been here several times."

"It's nice to see you again," Bradley replied in his most charming voice, and even Cat wasn't immune to that. She smiled softly at him before turning back to her work. 

"You should go," you told Bradley, running your fingers through his hair and kissing him briefly before pushing him toward the door. "See you at home later."

And then he was gone and you were left with Cat and her attitude about the way you got your work done.

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

Bradley made it home before you. He took Tramp for a short walk after changing into some gym shorts and an old shirt. The neighbors had their grandchildren over, so Bradley stopped and let them play with Tramp. The kids always went absolutely nuts for him, and honestly, Tramp loved the kids probably more than they loved him. 

"Trying to get you one of your very own," he told his dog as they walked up the driveway past the Bronco. Tramp jumped up and licked Bradley's hand like he understood. Like he was begging for his own kid to play with. "Working on it."

Bradley knew you were busy with work. Your promotion banquet was coming up soon. And he was pretty sure your period was due to arrive any day now. It felt like you and he were playing the waiting game every month. Bradley didn't really mind too much; trying to get you pregnant was perhaps the least stressful part of his daily routine. Fucking you had been bliss since the very first night he spend with you. 

But he could feel the stress in your body every month when you got your period now. When he tried to tell you that sometimes this took time, you didn't want to hear it. And it had only been a few months since you stopped using birth control. But you didn't want to hear that either. 

Bradley took Tramp inside, and then he heard your terrifying little car pull into the driveway. You came inside with some shopping bags and a six pack of your favorite beer. "I picked up dinner," you told him. "I think I have PMS, so I got some sushi."

"Perfect," he replied, noting the way you were biting your lip a little nervously. "Come here." He pulled you into his arms. "You pick the movie."

"Hmmm... 90s throwback night?" you asked, wiggling out of his grasp and starting to undress in the living room.

"My favorite," he murmured, watching your shirt slip down your arms. 

Then you vanished toward the bedroom, calling out, "Be right back."

He sighed and set up the sushi and beers on the coffee table. Then he fed Tramp dinner and waited for you. When you came back out in one of Bradley's oversized shirts and plopped down on the couch, he was right there with you. He barely paid attention to which movie you chose, realizing about fifteen minutes later that he was watching Wild Things. 

When you finished your sushi and took the last sip of your beer, you gently pushed Bradley back along the couch and curled up on his chest. Bradley loved your body weight on top of him like this. He felt warm and secure with your forehead resting on his neck while you watched the movie. But he was watching you and the way you reacted to his fingers gliding along your arm. Your eyelashes brushed along your perfect cheek. 

He was thinking about how good you'd look with a baby bump when you shifted a little bit to look up at him. "You like this movie," you said against his chest, and he laughed. He was barely even watching it. "It's got the threesome scene with Neve Campbell and Denise Richards."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "That's not why I like this movie. I like it because it has a good soundtrack."

"Yeah, okay," you said with a laugh. And he let it go until a minute later when you asked, "Do you honestly expect me to believe that you wouldn't jump at the chance to have a threesome if I brought it up?"

Bradley was speechless. He just looked at you for a beat while you watched the movie.

"That's what I thought," you murmured with another laugh.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" he asked, shifting underneath you. "Are you trying to insinuate that you are not satisfying me? Or that I am not doing a good job of satisfying you? Because either way, I have a problem with this."

He grasped your chin between his fingers until you were looking up at him. "I was just making my point that you'd want to."

"I would not," he said louder. "Would you?"

You shook your head. "Of course not."

He blinked at you a few times. "I think about you and only you all fucking day long. And I'm too jealous and stubborn to share you. So don't ever make a comment like that again, okay? And if I'm not doing a good job, just tell me."

"You are!" you insisted, propping yourself up so that your chest was just grazing his and your lips were inches from his chin. "You make sure I cum before you do like ninety percent of the time, and you have a huge dick!"

"There's a little more to it than that," he growled. "If I'm not making you feel like you're important to me, then what's the point?"

You gasped and kissed his chin. "Roo. I'm sorry I said anything."

Bradley was a little worried about his performance now. Last week on the dining room floor, he wasn't sure if you came or not. His knees started hurting from digging into the hardwood. Maybe his nearly thirty seven years of age were showing. And when he bent you over the piano bench, he had to work very hard to get you off with his fingers before he came.

"Oh my goodness," you said, a little louder now. "You're not even lying, are you? You actually wouldn't want to have a threesome."

"No! We made wedding vows! I'm not about to stick my dick in anyone except you! And I wouldn't even want to!"

Your lips were on his, and your fingers were tangled in his hair. You were straddling his waist and murmuring, "You're so sweet, Roo."

He pulled you tight against him, letting you feel how hard he was for you. "I'm fucking crazy about you, Sweetheart," he swore. "If I'm not satisfying-" 

But your lips were on his again, and you were rubbing yourself against his abs. Bradley grabbed at your hips underneath the oversized shirt. "You are!" you promised. "You're incredible. We're incredible."

"Then why the fuck are you saying that stuff?" he groaned when you started sucking on his neck.

"You're going to give me a complex."

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I'm just feeling a little insecure today."

"Why?" Bradley asked, easing his hands up along your waist, enjoying the feel of your smooth skin. "Why would you ever have a reason to feel insecure? You're perfect."

You ran your nose along his Adam's apple. "Cat Coleman hates me for some reason. And I'm going to have to work a little bit this weekend, because I'm behind on the proposals. And my period is coming despite my best efforts."

"Stop it," Bradley said, gently squeezing your waist so that you met his eyes. You sat up, straddling his torso. "If Cat Coleman doesn't like you, then she's an idiot. I can help you this weekend. It's supposed to rain. You can read the proposals out loud to me while I feel you popcorn. And if you get your period, then we'll keep trying. Like I said, you're perfect."

You smiled down at him and started to pull his shirt up over his abs. "Okay, Roo."

"We got nothing to worry about," he whispered, tucking his finger inside your underwear, making you gasp as he stroked you. "Unless you start telling me you do want to have a threesome."

"I don't," you promised, kissing his lips. And then you pulled Bradley's shorts and underwear down to his thighs, and your slick pussy met his cock. "This okay?" 

"'Course," he grunted. You slipped him inside, and once he was fully seated, you glanced up and kissed him again. 

Then you carefully pressed your chest to his. "I love you, Roo." Your lips were soft on his scarred neck and cheek as he ran his hands up and down along your back. He was so comfortable like this, with you warming his cock. You softly fluttered around him, soothing him with every little squeeze and movement. You had control over him. You always did, because he'd given it to you. But your fingers in his hair and your soft voice near his ear...you just owned him. 

More than anything, he wanted to make you happy. Take your stress away. And he knew that in the next few days, you'd either be delighted or miserable again, depending on if you got your period. So he wanted to enjoy this moment with you. Let you enjoy yourself with him. 

As soon as you started moving your hips, you were moaning softly. Bradley pressed himself up against you, rubbing his rough hairs along your clit. "Tell me what you want."

You sighed and moved your hips a little faster. "Make it last forever."

Bradley wasn't sure if you were talking about this moment in particular or everything. But he'd make it all last for you. For his wife. You rode him on the couch until you came, chanting his name with his hands all over your breasts. Then he flipped you over onto your back, and you wrapped your legs around his waist while he fucked you nice and slow.

"You didn't cum yet," you gasped a few minutes later when he stroked your clit closer to another orgasm.

"You told me to make it last forever," he whispered, cock deep inside you as he pinched you and listened to you whine for him. 

When he finally ended up in bed with you, he was a sweaty mess, and your pussy was filled with his cum. You were babbling softly as he tucked you in and plugged your phone into the charger. He went back to the living room to turn off the movie that he hadn't even watched and let Tramp out into the backyard. Yeah, he wanted this to last forever, too. Whether it was just the three of you or not. 

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

The next morning, you were in tears again. When you stopped for beer and sushi on the way home last night, you made a little detour to buy some more pregnancy tests. Negative. They were always negative. Bradley was dicking you down constantly. You'd made him feel so insecure last night, that he held onto you this morning and wouldn't let you get out of bed.

"We'll be late for work," you whispered, knowing you'd have to get Bradley out of the house so you could take one of the tests before you left, too. 

"I love you too much to get up."

"If you get up now, I'll make you an omelette." 

You laughed when Bradley jumped out of bed, and even after you made breakfast and sent him on his way, you had time to take the pregnancy test before you left too.

Crying in your car on your way to work had become this kind of sick routine. But at least you had fifteen minutes to get it out of your system before you parked. Then you had another ten minutes to make your face look neutral again before you made it to your lab with your computer. 

You barely said a word to anyone until it was time for lunch. Part of you wanted to pull the same stunt you'd been pulling for weeks and tell Bradley you were too busy to eat in the cafeteria with him. But Jake was right. When Bradley was deployed again, you'd be nonstop wishing he was here with you. So you locked your computer and followed everyone else out.

"Hey, Cat?" you called out before you could stop yourself. She turned her dark, appraising eyes on you, and you sucked in a deep breath as you caught up with her. You knew Jake wanted to get to know her, and you knew that would be made much easier for him if in fact you got to know her first.

"Yes?"

"Just wanted to see if you wanted to eat lunch with me. I'll probably sit with my husband and some of our friends, if you-"

"I'm going to eat with Sonya. But thank you." Her face was still expressionless as she cut you off. But you didn't want to be deterred so easily.

"Okay," you said with a forced smile. "Well, we're going to hang out at the Hard Deck later, maybe shoot some pool or play darts. If you want to-"

"I'll think about it, thanks."

And then she was strolling down the hallway away from you. And the tears were filling your eyes all over again. You turned toward your office and pulled your phone out of your pocket. 

I'm going to eat in my office.

As soon as you unlocked the door, Bradley had written back.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: I'll bring some sandwiches up and join you. 

You managed to calm yourself down, taking deep breath after deep breath while you organized your file cabinet. But when Bradley knocked on the open door and you looked up to see his smile, you burst into tears. 

"Sweetheart." He kicked the door closed and tossed the sandwiches onto your desk. "Come here." He sat down in your chair and patted his thigh, and you sank down to meet his big body while you sobbed. He held you and let you cry as you curled your legs up under yourself and burrowed against him. 

You wiped the tears away but kept your eyes closed as you said, "I took a pregnancy test after you left the house this morning. Of course it was negative. I don't know why I keep getting my hopes up."

You could feel his lips and mustache in your hair as he kissed you. His voice was gentle as he said, "You need to stop doing that alone, okay? We can do it together if you miss your period. I don't want you to keep hiding what's going on from me."

You looked up at him with tear streaked cheeks. "You know you're going to get deployed again soon, right?" you asked as you hiccupped. "And then we're going to lose out on months of trying. I feel like if this doesn't happen soon, it's never going to, Bradley."

The irritation you knew must have been all over your face didn't seem to penetrate him at all. You'd been subconsciously baiting him last night while you watched the movie. Hoping for him to validate all of your inadequacies. Your mind thriving on the idea that even your husband thought you weren't good enough for him after all. 

But all he ever did was love you and encourage you. And right now, you couldn't stand that, either. Because when he said, "We have time, and we have each other," you started sobbing again in earnest.

He held you for so long, you were certain he would get in trouble with Maverick for taking an unnecessarily long lunch. "You didn't eat your sandwich," you whispered as he rubbed your back.

"I'll eat it when I walk back over," he promised. "Which I'm not going to do until you promise me you'll stop shutting me out."

You nodded at him and whispered, "I'll do better, Roo." Then you handed him one of the sandwiches and scrambled off of his lap. "You need to go before you get in trouble."

He leaned down to kiss you. "Nah, Mav's a softie for you. If I tell him I needed to spend some time with you, he's not going to care too much, Baby Girl."

"Okay," you sniffed, looking at the other sandwich. But you'd lost your appetite now. Which was fine. You were beginning to think that the weight you gained and never lost from the wedding and honeymoon could be adding to your fertility issues. You scheduled a physical with your doctor for just after your promotion banquet. Skipping a meal here and there was honestly probably a good idea. 

"I'll see you at home? Hard Deck after dinner?" Bradley asked, running his fingers along your cheek. You brought your attention back to him and nodded. 

"See you at home."

But later that night, while you were at the bar with your friends, you couldn't stop thinking about the negative test. You couldn't stop thinking about your fertility. You couldn't stop thinking about how hungry you were. 

And then you saw Cat sitting at the bar with Macy. When you caught her eye, there was barely a flash of recognition, even though you had invited her to hang out in this very establishment barely eight hours ago. 

You tried to block it all out as your stomach ached from period cramps. But after another hour, you were tugging on Bradley's hand and whispering, "Let's go home?"

He eyed you cautiously as he finished the last of his beer. "Whatever you want, Sweetheart."

Home. That's what you wanted.

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

Well, they can try again next month. But I'm worried about her. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

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@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@hecate-steps-on-me

@xoxabs88xox

[reyno-solis-real]

“I wanna hear ya ramble. And find more targets- I mean, uh, potential buddies.” Rey grins, laying on his back, spine curved and arms bent.

BREAKS YOUR DOOR TO YOUR ROOM

“I h a s f o u n d o w l”

Eye says in a dead serious manner while just staring at him.

”ACK! HUH?!?”

Rey jumps up from his bed, staring at Eve.

[mommycity]

this is probably because im hungry rn but i cannot stop thinking about how well fed suguru would keep you :((

that man is a DAMN good cook he can fuck it up in the kitchen so of courseee hed whip up whatever you want when your pudgy tummy starts growling and you whine for something from your boyfriend

if youre tired after work/uni/whatever, hed handfeed food to you because he just feels so bad that his baby had to deal with an empty stomach!!! suguru just loves you so much!!!!!!!

going off of that tummy grabber post you made, if youve eaten too much hed lay you between his legs on the couch, put a nice show on, and then rub your midsection (more like gently grope) until it all goes away. then hed probably squeeze and massage you a little more, just in case :)

if you ever get a sudden craving, no matter where the two of you are or what time it is, he WILL go out and buy you whatever you want. 10pm and you want a whole gallon of extra sugary ice cream? hes giving you a kiss and embarking on his journey. 7am and you want a big pasta dish? the search bar is already open and hes looking for nearby italian restaurants. 2pm and your just had lunch but youre still hungry for breakfast? the waffle iron is heating up and hes making the batter from scratch.

theres also leftovers. always. not because neither of you could finish it (sugurus cooking is just so good you think youd be seated at the dining table and be filling yourself up for hours) its so you can always have something to heat up whenever you get hungry and never have to worry about tiring yourself out with a complex meal.

all of this pampering shows on you, of course, but you dont mind. suguru is very appreciative of the extra layers of fat and shows it almost everyday. whether it be through coming up behind you and grabbing wherever the most weight is and jiggling it a bit as a greeting, giving you a kiss on the fullest part of your cheek, buying you tight clothes that show everything off, or having you ride his face (that ones his favorite, he asks for that almost everyday. the other days are booked up by him taking you missionary to watch all the fat in your body ripple everytime he pounds into you)

hes such a gentleman. everytime you feel like doing a food crawl through the various restaurants in tokyo, hell pay for all of it. even if you get all the extra sides and fillings, two sugary drinks, and the biggest and most expensive serving, hell look at you with heart eyes and swipe his card.

obviously, with all the food being put into your belly, youd want him to have some too!!! an effort is made to share with suguru, and he accepts. before, he had an average amount of fat to muscle ratio, but with a combination of your love for food and some tweaks to his workout routine, he ends up with chub lining his thighs, tummy, chest, and arms. of course he adores it, its a physical reminder of how much the two of you love each other :)))

when both of you are sleepy, hungry, and horny at the same time, suguru will have you gently ride him on the couch (hes helping you go up and down carefully) as he feeds you a variety of your favorite snacks and an uncomplicated dinner that he can easily bring to your mouth and his. maybe theres a movie on in the background, maybe hes murmuring words dripped in honey into your ear as you both fatten yourselves while in the throes of pleasure.

suguru just likes when he and his partner are plump, full, and happy. what can he say?

AUGHHHH OP I ALMOST CAME UNTOUCHEDDDD everything is so true.

Not only that real and true info, his way of comforting would be so endearing, albeit a bit unhealthy. He’s talking you through all of your stressors and then providing you with all of the sweetest treats that make you smile. His big hands smooth your hair as you eat so you can simply focus on the taste and nothing more. But sometimes it gets him going!!! Seeing you so focused and content, so pleased with just stuffing your face makes him wanna stuff you with something else. He can’t help the way he feels warm when you look at him after finishing the plate. His dick is jumping leaps and bounds at the white icing that has stickied your lips. Lord help him!!! He might buss if you kiss him with your sugar lips

[reasonsforhope]

"Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva legally recognized nearly 800 square miles of Indigenous lands on Friday [April 28, 2023] in an effort to stop illegal logging, mining and land grabbing, reversing policies enacted by his predecessor Jair Bolsonaro, a far-right leader who encouraged development in the Amazon. Those policies spurred a frenzy of activity, including illegal gold mining and clandestine farming in Indigenous territories, devastating the environment and fueling violence.

“We are going to legalize Indigenous lands,” Lula said in a speech. “I don’t want any Indigenous territory to be left without demarcation during my government.”

Under Lula’s new designation, mining activities are now prohibited, and commercial farming and logging require specific authorization by the Brazilian government. Non-Indigenous people are forbidden from engaging in any economic activity on Indigenous lands. Under Bolsonaro, the Amazon saw a 56 percent increase in deforestation, the destruction of nearly 13,000 square miles of rainforest, and the loss of nearly 965 square miles of Indigenous territories. 

The Amazon rainforest, which is twice the size of India, holds large amounts of carbon which are crucial to fighting climate change. Studies show that protected Indigenous land holds 50 percent more carbon per hectare than unprotected areas in the Brazilian Amazon, and that protecting Indigenous territories in the region could prevent more than 15 million respiratory and cardiovascular-related illnesses. There are more than 3,000 protected areas in Brazil, and 490 recognized Indigenous areas. Those Indigenous areas cover more than 264-million acres – almost 13% of Brazil’s territory.

“Indigenous areas are crucial to preserving the Amazon, the world’s central bank for biological diversity,” said Toerris Jaeger, Director of Rainforest Foundation Norway, in a press release. “Today’s announcement is also an important recognition that indigenous people are the ones best able to guard this wealth.”

Lula’s announcement provides recognition to six territories that are home to nearly 4,000 Indigenous peoples. The largest area is the Nadöb people’s Uneiuxi Territory located in the Amazonas state. With recognition, the area has been expanded by 37 percent to 2,100 square miles of primary rainforest. 

But for some Indigenous communities, the announcement fell short. In January, Lula’s government pledged to create 14 new territories, while another 733 territories await distinction and boundary acknowledgment by the federal government. The lands of the Pataxó people in south western Bahia state is just one of the territories left out of Lula’s announcement. Renato Atxuab, a Pataxó leader, told the AP that Silva’s government must distinguish their land as soon as possible to prevent further invasions by outsiders. Over the past year, Axtuab said, there have been violent conflicts involving agribusiness, land-grabbers and drug traffickers. 

“There are still, currently, hundreds of Indigenous Lands in the country with their recognition processes pending,” said Danicley de Aguiar, a spokesperson for Greenpeace Brazil. “Several territories, despite already being officially recognized, suffer from invasions by illegal gold miners, subjecting the people living on those lands to extreme violence.”

She added that going forward, real protection of Indigenous lands will require monitoring by the Brazilian government."

-via Grist, 5/3/23

[wordynerdygurl]

That's the Brakes

Author's Note: Hello lovelies! This is a little drabble which was inspired by a piece of fan art- a piece of fan art that I foolishly did not like or reblog! The picture was of Steve and Eddie crowded together on a subway... and this little fic was born. If you know the piece I'm talking about, please tag me or, even better, if you're the artist, please let me know! I'd love to tag you and your incredible, inspiring art! Pairing: Steddie Setting: No Upside Down/ Everybody lives and our boys are in the Big City! Warnings: None- it's just a sweet little 600 words!

“And that’s another thing, Harrington-” the subway car lurched forward, Eddie, riding the wave like any expert public transportation surfer would, carried on without interruption, “-I couldn’t get a word in edgewise!  Guy was just blah, blah, blah all night.”

God, Steve was sick and tired of this shit.  Another day, another story about a failed first date and another chance for him to deny just how much it hurt to hear Eddie talking about a new person that had caught his eye when he- Steve Harrington- was right there!  Clinging to his sanity and the metal rod that connected to the train’s ceiling with a white-knuckled grip.    Still he managed to chuckle goodnaturedly over the squeal of braking train tires, “Usually that’s your job, huh?  Talking nonstop, I mean.” Beneath their feet the city rolled by as Eddie let go of the leatherette strap that now swung freely between them to croon mournfully, “Why must you cut me so deeply, sir?” And maybe he would have said more, teased and taunted and twisted Steve up until he couldn’t think in the humid subway car where it smelled like chemical covered urine and a thousand sweaty bodies and where the scratchy speakers announced locations that didn’t match any map he had ever seen.  Maybe Eddie would have waited for Steve to play along?  Giving him half a chance to make his own joke and then they would both be laughing before Eddie went off on a tangent about dice or mice or metal men and how they weren’t robots but they weren’t not robots either. Whatever, it didn’t matter, because just as Steve opened his mouth to respond the train slammed to a hard stop, rocking him backwards.  Thankfully, he was holding on tight.  But Eddie, well, Eddie pushed into him at roughly the velocity of a speeding transit authority subway car, his wiry frame colliding with a solid wall of Steve. Leather clad arms instinctively wrapped around his torso, a mop of wayward waves flew into his face and then there were eyes, round and deep and impossibly rich with fringey lashes that framed his bestest friend’s momentary panic, staring up and into his own.  Lips, pink and plush and so fucking pretty, parted around the eloquent exclamation of “Uh-” and Steve knew that Eddie saw it.  

Could pinpoint the exact moment when the lithe metalhead nerd read Steve’s thoughts.  The unguarded ones about hearts and love and forever.  Thoughts about kissing that so close to his own smart mouth until the pair of them were gasping for air. Steve knew Eddie saw it all written in plain English across his face and held his breath.  Keeping one hand on the support bar but daring to let the other curl along the line of Eddie’s black belt, his fingers splayed over a denim clad hip before pulling them closer together only to whisper, “I got ya, Ed.” “I guess so, huh, Stevie?”   There was no use trying to stop the smile that filled his face when Eddie steadied himself using Steve for support.  That wayward hand of his having wandered under a once black, now softly and subtly grayed t-shirt to stroke against the firm flesh of Eddie’s back without question or complaint.  Nose to nose now, the train grunted to a start, picking up speed between stations, but Eddie didn’t move away. 

Swaying together along the rail car’s route Steve held onto the grabber bar, Eddie held onto him and if they stepped onto the city’s grimly platform two stops later, fingers entwined, that was nobody’s business but their own.

Tag List: @sxlly-pxbble @kerri-leighjade @mediocreaf @weird-stranger13 @cupiden  @sereisstuff @elviqs @ethereal-daydreamerr @armyangxls @alana-stewart @darkhairedmenrule @b1tchbabytears @ravencrap-hufflefuck  @rosegoldarti @atlwhatevs @mermaidsandcats29  @aereth  @drfrank211 @ladysteddie @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @sweetsweetjellybean @sammy-jo19777 @hiscrimsonangel

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

kinktober #23

Bonfire Bash 🔥 / Rotten Core 🪱

“Oh, you’re gonna do it like that?” says Hardison, widening his eyes at Parker. “That’s just nasty, woman. That’s, like, a four-thousand-percent sugar to anything else ratio. S’mores are about the balance.”

Parker licks around the edges of her s’more, which is a carefully assembled tower of six marshmallows, three Hershey bars broken in half so that three halves bracket each side of the marshmallows, and then the usual amount of graham crackers because this is the only way she can stand them. Otherwise they get all weird and gummy in her mouth and it unlocks some weird memory she thinks might be from when she was a baby, and she definitely doesn’t want that. 

“Excuse me,” she says, poking Hardison’s pudgy side with one finger. “My methods are superior. Tested by time!”

Hardison looks to Eliot for help, but Eliot shrugs. “Can’t be that different from that orange soda you’re always drinking, man.”

“HaHA!” cackles Parker, chomping a bite out of her s’more. “See? This was a great idea, you guys. Why don’t we have more s’mores nights?”

“Fire,” Hardison and Eliot say in unison.

“Oh, right.” In her defense, Parker has been really good about the fire. This is a nice way to enjoy it: sandwiched between her favorite boys, eating what’s objectively one of the best foods ever invented, all with a giant roaring flame to keep her warm and stimulated. Earlier in the evening, Hardison presented her with a whole set of fireplace tools, including an extendable blow poke and a long metal grabber to move wood around with, and told her that they were the condition on which she was allowed to play with the fire.

“Did you steal the tools?” she’d whispered, and he’d nodded.

“You know I did. Only the best for my baby.”

They’re burning, like literally burning, a bunch of old identities from the last city. Hardison’s got backups under layers and layers of encryption and firewalls and all his other digital safety measures that sound like word salad to Parker, but she wanted to have a ceremonial bonfire to commemorate starting over again, so Hardison humored her and printed out some copies. 

She likes the new house so far. It’s colder here than Portland, but it doesn’t rain as much, and there are enough trees on the multi-acre property that she’s already starting to bug Hardison about a zip line. So far he’s much more open to the idea of putting one out in the trees here than he was to putting one inside the New Orleans house, even though the high ceilings would have been perfect. 

She takes another bite of s’more and adjusts a few logs with the grabber. The fire sends up a shower of embers and ash, and she flicks them off where they land on her clothes. She’ll have to shower right away when they get inside, because as much as she loves the smell of wood smoke when it is outside, in the fresh air where it belongs, she hates smells that linger, and wood smoke is definitely a lingerer. She’ll pull the boys in too. Eliot’ll hate it because he just washed his hair this morning and he doesn’t like to do it twice in one day, says it’s bad for the hair or something, but oh well. That’s why she bought him the shower cap. It’s not her fault he refuses to wear it. 

She’d kind of thought that Eliot would have had some fancy high-end way to make a s’more, like dark chocolate and brown sugar marshmallows or something, but he’s chowing down on a normal one next to her, hair pulled back into a loose bun and shoved under a beanie to keep it out of the goop. That’s the other thing Parker likes about s’mores, the one Hardison really can’t abide: the goop. Parker can endure any number of boring activities, lectures, and/or social situations if she has something sticky on her fingers to keep her entertained. Lately she’s been really into those sticky little hands, but the s’more is a nice change of pace. 

(The new house also came with pine trees, which she’s very excited for. Eliot said they won’t start dripping a lot of sap for a while still, but she can wait. She’s got time. And a bulk order of sticky hands to get through.)

Next to her, Hardison wipes some marshmallow from his hands with an antibacterial wipe. His face is a bit fuller than it used to be, and while he’s retained some muscle tone in his arms, he’s also got enough extra arm for Parker to jiggle a little when they cuddle. His belly bows out in a soft curve beneath his t-shirt, and 

“Hi,” she says, tipping her head onto Hardison’s shoulder. Now that he’s back from his stint of globetrotting and saving the world, he hasn’t been working out as much, and his orange soda consumption is back up to normal levels. He’s softening up; they all are, thanks to Eliot’s determination to get them to eat three meals a day and their enthusiasm at being his taste testers for the new menus he’s been working on. Parker likes her new, softer shape a lot, even if she’s had to work to figure out a new center of gravity, a new sense of balance. It’s a good challenge. Without even realizing it, she’d gotten kind of bored of knowing how to do everything she does without having to work for it.

“Hey, mama,” says Hardison, bumping his head gently against hers. “Want me to start another marshmallow for you?”

Parker nods, mouth full. Hardison is the best at roasting marshmallows. He’s proven himself over campfires, barbecue grills, fireplaces, gas burners, blowtorches, and the tiny tabletop electric grill Eliot gave in and bought after he realized the one Parker had her eye on could double as a fondue pot. The man’s got it down to a science. Probably he has an algorithm for exactly how much heat and exposure time each square inch of the marshmallow needs to be perfectly golden.

Hardison plucks another couple of marshmallows out of the bag and threads them onto his stick. On her other side, Eliot takes a slug of the new porter he’s trying out for the new restaurant space he’s been cooking up. Eliot’s softer than both of them, but they’re doing their best to catch up. A little bonus padding has made him stronger, more powerful, harder to hurt, and Parker loves that that softness makes her feel both comforted and reassured in his arms. He’s still the most dangerous person in any given situation, but she likes knowing that there’s some extra fat between him and whatever he’s up against.

Eliot built the fire pit out here with his own two hands and a bunch of rocks he dug up from the chunk of the yard he’s taken over for his garden. If Parker looks hard enough, she can see them in its construction: Eliot the protective perimeter of stones, Hardison the gravel inside it, laying the groundwork and keeping everyone even, and herself, reaching up for the sky in bright fingers of flame. 

“Who do you think could eat the most s’mores?” she muses, watching Hardison twirl his marshmallow stick amid the flames.

“You,” Eliot and Hardison in unison.

“Come on!” she groans. “That’s not fun!”

“But it’s true,” says Hardison, shrugging. “You could eat us under the table as far as sugar’s concerned.”

“Okay, fine,” she says, skimming the gooey marshmallow innards off the tip of her own stick, where the outer shell of the marshmallow went up in flames shortly after she plunged it into the fire. “What do you think you could eat the most of?”

Hardison purses his lips, gaze lost somewhere above the fire. “Probably like — we talking, like, one specific food, or a whole genre of food?”

Parker shrugs. “I’ll allow a genre, since mine is sugar.”

“Maybe chips,” says Hardison. “Or, like, the extended family of chips and chip-adjacent snacks. If we include, like Cheetos, Takis, all them, I think I could do it. Give me something to hack and I can clear out bags without even realizing.”

“That’s true,” says Parker, considering. “I’ve seen you go through chips like that. It’s impressive.”

“Thank you,” says Hardison, bowing as much as he can while sitting on a log, roasting marshmallows. “It’s a carefully honed talent.”

They both glance at Eliot, who’s squinting into the flames. 

“Potatoes,” says Eliot finally. “Variation in texture’s key to being able to eat a lot of something. More important than taste, even, but that ain’t even really an issue with potatoes. You can dress ’em up all sorts of ways and they’ll feel like different foods.”

Hardison nods solemnly. “Okay, okay. I think Parker and I will have to verify, though. Like the Guiness Book of World Records. Let’s put that on the calendar.”

“As long as I get to cook the potatoes,” says Eliot, and Parker and Hardison nod vehemently.

“All you, man,” says Hardison. “We ain’t touching that.”

He pulls his marshmallows out of the fire and examines it. “Almost done,” he tells Parker, and she begins preparing her chocolate bars and graham crackers.

“Okay, but Eliot,” she says, tapping his knee with the corner of a wrapped chocolate bar. “If you had to make your own version of s’mores, what would you do?”

“Like how would I make ’em better, or how would I make ’em high-end?”

“Either,” says Parker, sliding the marshmallows Hardison passes her off the stick and squashing them between the graham crackers and chocolate so that they ooze out the sides.

Eliot thinks, turning his beer in his hands. “Pound cake,” he says after a long moment. “With crushed graham crackers in the batter. Grill it beforehand to warm it up, get it a little crispy, there you go.”

“I want that,” Parker agrees. “I want that a lot.”

“And elevated,” he goes on, rubbing his chin, “I think Earl Grey shortbreads and lavender dark chocolate. Marshmallow’s got to be the sweetest thing there or it won’t work.”

Parker wrinkles her nose. Hardison doesn’t mind lavender, even goes in for some floral beers or ice creams sometimes, but she’s not a fan. “Okay, you guys can have those. Will you make me the pound cake ones sometime?”

“Yeah,” says Eliot, reaching over for a bite of her s’more. “Maybe next weekend. We got this fire pit now, we might as well use it.”

“Now hold up,” says Hardison from Parker’s other side. “I could get in on some pound cake. Throw some strawberries in there, I’m in.”

“Strawberries’d be good,” Eliot agrees through a mouthful. “I’ll pick some up this week. Can’t have you two starving.”

Parker lays a hand on her belly over the blanket where it’s starting to round out a bit. “Aw, we know you’d never let us starve.”

“Never,” says Eliot, passing her s’more back to her. “Not on my watch.”

[pareidoliaonthemove]

The Pitch

Deep in space the rocket ship powered forward, a small blue star, millions of miles behind it, its place of origin: Earth.

Before it, and steadily growing larger was its destination: Mars. The Red Planet, glowing against the endless darkness of the universe.

From the cockpit of the rocket ship Mars pushed the endless tracts of space from the view port, and the two astronauts, flicking switches and pushing buttons on the massively complicated control panels, activated the powerful rocket motors to send their ship roaring into the alien atmosphere.

From the base of rocket red flames belched smoke as the engines battled against the planets gravity. Winds laden with red dust were diverted for the first time by the hand of man.

Over the radio, one of the astronauts counted down, “Fifty feet … Forty-five … Forty feet …” The red sands of Mars moved, slightly at first, and then greater gouts of dust were kicked up as the rocket ship bore down on the surface. “Ten feet … Nine … Eight … Seven … Six … Five … Four … Three … Two … One … Touchdown! We have Touchdown!”

A softer voice, faint and crackly with the distance from the Earth was heard. “Congratulations, Lander. Everything here checks out, you are Go for disembark.”

“Roger, Control. Lander is Go for disembark.”

On the side of the rocket, a small door opens, a swirl of dust obscures the opening, and clears to show an astronaut, silhouetted by the internal lights. Ponderously he climbs down the ladder, turns and pauses, before striding out to place the first human foot on the Red Planet. “Another step in Humanity’s great journey of exploration.”

Soon after the second astronaut follows, and both start moving across the desolate landscape. Suddenly one wave to the other. “Over here, I’ve found them!”

The other joins his crewmate, and one uses a grabber to pick up an object. He holds it up to examine it, before declaring: “No distance is too far … to get a Mars Bar!”

The film paused on the smiling face of the astronaut framed in his helmet behind the Mars Bar held bottom left of the screen. The lights in the small conference room come up, and the three advertising people beamed widely, unnaturally white teeth gleaming in the artificial light.

“Of course, Mr Tracy, in the real film you will be the ‘lead’ astronaut; the first out of the rocket to recreate your first steps, and the one to speak the tag line. Captain Taylor, you will be the second astronaut, the one who ‘finds’ the Mars Bar.”

Captain Lee Taylor glanced across at his openly horrified friend and beyond him, Lucille Tracy, was clearly a woman who had just witnessed a train wreck.

He smirked. Those two were current out of commission, so it was down to good ol’ Lee to sort things out.

“Well, Lizzy,” he began, ignoring the woman’s hiss of irritation and muttered “Jessie”; “I’m sure it’ll be a whizz bang job for your company. Sell ‘em candies by the truck load.”

The two advertising executives and the representative for Mars company all brightened. Clearly, they agreed, and thought he was going to sign up for his role.

“But there’s one little problem, and it ain’t so little, when ya really get down to it.”

‘Lizzy’s’ colleague frowned. “A problem?”

“Yup. Th’ Space Agency ‘owns’ that line.” Blank stares. “Y’know ‘Another step…’ blah blah blah. They own it. Can’t use it for advertising without their permission.” An exaggerated frown. “An’ I’m pretty sure they already turned you down for a – whaddya call it again? Oh yeah – a ‘public relations collaboration’ way back when the mission was on.”

Jeff goraned. “They wanted us eating the damned things on live tv from the space ship, and on Mars.”

Lee snorted. “Even if the agency hadn’t nixed that idea, I’da done it. An’ so woulda th’ rest a the crew.” He indicated Jeff with a thumb. “Chocolate upsets his guts in zero-g. Weren’t no way in hell we were gonna breathe that stink all th’ way t’ Mars an’ back.”

Jeff glared at him. “I’m not that bad, Lee.”

Lee smirked at him. “The hell you aren’t, Jeff. We got back from that first equipment drop at Alphie, the techs spent two dang weeks pulling that ship apart, ‘cause it smelled so bad in there, they thought a skunk musta got in an’ died!”

Lucy giggled from behind her hands, and watched the pitch team turn slowly green at the thought. The argument beside her was starting to heat up, so she cleared her throat. Loudly.

Jeff and Lee immediately quieted down and turned back to her. Typical. People thought she was the mother of four kids, with one on the way. In truth, she was the (very) pregnant mother of five kids, with a nephew who randomly landed on her doorstep.

She turned her attention back to the advertising team. “As Lee pointed out, you’d have to do an extraordinary amount of work to get the rights to use that line for advertising purposes. There’s also the matter of Jeff and Lee’s binding contracts: they cannot participate in any activity that may be mistaken as being approved by the Space Agency without their express sign off. I sincerely doubt that you would be able to get them to agree to this advertising campaign.”

She glanced at Jeff, who took up the ball. “As you know, I have left the Space Agency, in favour of running my own business. I have to consider Tracy Engineering Industries, and how any public appearances may affect its interests. I’m afraid I cannot see how participating in your advertising campaign would benefit my company.”

Lee chimed in, “And you were sayin’ you’d banned chocolate from the house cause that was all young … uh … Jason? Jamie?”

“John.” It was sighed.

“Yeah, that’s the one! How he was refusin’ ta eat anything but chocolate.”

Jeff looked evenly at the three people across the table from him, and controlled a flash of guilt. They were deflated, and looked like he’d kicked their puppy. Which, he supposed, he had.

“I am terribly sorry, gentleman, ma’am; I thank you for your kind offer–”

“We could rework the line! Change it! And we could put your company logo on the rocket! Double-up on the advertising!” The company representative blurted out the idea, and the other two, immediately started muttering together, apparently trying to figure out an acceptable alternative for the words the Space Agency’s public relations team had sent two years writing.

Jeff paused, considering. Three hopeful faces were again watching him.

A glance either side of him, seeking input from Lucy and Lee, settled the matter.

“As I said, I … that is we thank you for your kind offer, but we will not be accepting.”

It took some time to extract themselves from the room, and more time to be allowed to depart the building, but finally Jeff stepped out onto the pavement with his wife and his best friend on either side of him.

He wrapped an arm around Lucy’s shoulders and turned to Lee. “Now tell the truth, did you really want to do that ad?”

Lee shrugged. “Woulda been fun. But th’ Agency would nevera gone for it. Sayin’ no here an’ now saved everyone a whole lotta wasted time.” He punched Jeff. “Anyways, what I said wouldnta mattered. They was only after you. Whole thing lived or died on your say so. Th’ big damn hero with the big damn dimples.”

Lee ducked the swiped hand easily. “I don’t have dimples, Lee,” Jeff muttered.

Lucy smirked. “At least, not on your face.”

She disentangled herself from her husband as both men gaped at her in shock.

“Lucy!” that was Jeff.

Lee’s reaction was much more entertaining. “Oh, god, no! Dammit, Lucy, too much information! Don’t need to know nothin’ about his rear end other than if it’s loaded for gas attack! Oh, god. That’s it! You’re gonna find me some brain bleach to clean that outta my mind.”

Laughing, the three of them stepped out from the shelter of the building, set on enjoying a rare afternoon with no responsibilities.

Just three friends enjoying life.

Notes:

I found this old tv advertisement for Mars Bars on YouTube. And then I started thinking.

It’s a dangerous thing for me to do.

Also, the fart joke crept in there and hijacked the end. Sorry about that.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the TOS or CGI Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

Oh, and Mars Bars were DEFINITELY harmed in the making of this fic!

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[secretxxpaladaiseu]

Starter for @themassmaster from Lucy

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

As usual, Lucy was at his tea shop, standing behind the counter and greeting customers as they came in. He greeted each customer formally, bowing politely before having them led to a table by one his wait staff, jotting down notes on a notepad after each greeting.

He had just walked over to one of the walls of tea that seemed to fill the small shop when he heard someone else come inside, immediately turning around to greet them. "Hello! Welcome to my tea shop!" With another bow, he quickly rushed over to the counter with his pen in hand. With one more glance up, he quickly scribbled something down before stepping around the counter. "Table for one? Are we hungry as well?" The question wasn't meant to be a joke or offensive, simply a question that he had been asking every guest that walked inside.

Perhaps the most striking about the owner was his appearance. Delicately styled hair, sharp makeup, and the most impractical seeming Lolita maid outfit with a matching cooking apron on top. It was certainly an attention grabber, though one rarely seen in such a tea shop. "Come, right this way." With a gentle wave of his hand, he started towards the back of the shop where he pushed aside a curtain, revealing a large and beautiful tea garden with lush plants and beautiful statues, and even a fountain towards the middle. Something that shouldn't exist in a shop that was smaller than most dive bars in the area, yet there it was. With a fair amount of people sitting at different tables, enjoying themselves. "Sit where ever you'd like, and I'll be right with you."

[caralluma]

I'm finally going for perfection in stardew valley and cooked almost every recipe in the game yesterday. I made two separate spreadsheets for every ingredient I needed to bring to my kitchen for each different recipe, and had over 30 different sdwiki tabs open simultaneously. at one point I had put "shrimp milk" into the search bar and was confused why it didn't bring up anything, only to realize I sent it to my fiancé when I received "???" in response. there is but one recipe left and it's because bastard Clint is sitting on it and won't send it to me in the mail.

my crops go unwatered. auto grabbers are overflowing. profits are plummeting. but I will get that fucking achievement so help me god