#Rubber Air Hose

[thebluehose1]

Rubber Air Hoses: Durable, Flexible & Lightweight Solutions

Explore our Rubber Air Hoses, designed for durability, flexibility, and lightweight handling. These hoses are perfect for industrial and commercial use and deliver reliable performance under high pressure. Discover the best in air hose technology at TheBlueHose.

Visit Here: https://thebluehose.com/pages/blubird

[blubird-industries-inc]

The Benefits of Brass Fittings for Air and Water Hoses

Good equipment is a way to simplify gardening. Rubber air hoses, which can be purchased separately or are already included with the hose pipe, are essential gardening equipment. They are the extra parts that the rubber air hoses need to function properly and link to sprinklers, heads, or faucets, whether they are at the end of the hose or run the length of it.

Brass pressure washer hose fittings are among the most often used and well-liked fittings for garden rubber air hoses due to their ease of use and durability. Although there are fittings made of plastic and rubber, they are not as adjustable as brass fittings. Use brass garden pressure washer hose fittings to simplify gardening. Brass fittings are easier to thread together since they are lighter than certain other metal fittings and have a high level of corrosion resistance.

Why is brass still a common material for garden hose fittings?

The dynamic properties of brass make it a popular material for hose fittings. Fixtures made of brass are not just durable and versatile. Since they are more corrosion-resistant than other metal options, they are a perfect choice for garden fuel recoil air hose connections. An excellent water container is made of brass.

Why is brass used for hose fittings? Strong and resistant to corrosion, brass is a metal. Brass is perfect for producing garden pressure washer hose fittings because it can be manipulated and machined.

The main arguments in favor of utilizing brass for garden hose fittings are as follows:

The antibacterial qualities of brass.

Brass is corrosion-resistant - In a variety of demanding circumstances, corrosion is a concern for brass. Brass has a very small amount of iron, hence neither rust nor iron oxide may form. Brass doesn't rust, but it can corrode over time.

Brass is a long-lasting material due to its strength and resilience. It corrodes and is occasionally referred to as tarnish. It is a chemical that is often used in both residential and commercial gardening. Brass remains in good shape for many years. If you want your garden gasoline recoil air hose fittings to endure a long time, use brass.

Brass is malleable - Compared to other metals like copper or zinc, brass is more malleable.

Brass can be cast, forged, CNC-machined, stamped, or die-cut, making it versatile. Brass performs well at higher temperatures and has good corrosion durability and resistance. Brass is another metal that resists sparks. No other substance possesses such a versatile combination of attributes.

What makes brass such a useful metal?

Brass's properties may change if the alloy's composition is changed. The desired characteristics are achieved by modifying the brass alloy. To add up to copper and zinc, the alloy may also contain tin, iron, lead, silicon, aluminum, and manganese. These extra metals produce adaptive properties. Are brass hose fittings more effective than plastic ones in terms of performance? Brass garden hose fittings last a lot longer than plastic ones do.

Unlike hose fittings made of plastic, brass hose fittings won't blow off. Although more expensive than plastic fittings, Hose fittings made of brass are stronger, can resist higher temperatures, and have a longer lifespan. Despite recent developments making them tougher and more robust, plastic hose fittings can break when put under strain. A brass fitting will rarely break or endure other sorts of damage. Garden hose fittings made of brass work better than those made of plastic.

[elisegravesbondageliberation]

Transparent Rubber Stress Relief We are living in some seriously stressful times - and Elise is starting to feel the pressure. Fortunately, she has identified an extremely effective self soothing activity that reduces stress. Collecting all her favorite transparent rubber items, Elise sits on the edge of her beg and enjoys the experience of slipping into rubber. Dressing for her own pleasure. She begins by sucking deeply on the dildo in her rubber dildo panties, preparing for insertion into her pussy. Next, she takes care to lube up her feet and legs before slipping into transparent rubber stockings. After slipping a sexy rubber apron on, and securing it in the back, Elise is ready for the main piece - the inflatable ball hood. The sensory deprivation of sight and sound that this hood provides allows Elise to immerse herself in what is to come next. Attaching a long rubber hose and rebreather bag to the hood enables Elise to play with her own breath. She seems to make love to that bag as it swells with her trapped breath. All of this rubber is a major turn on, and thus Elise gets busy vibing her stuffed pussy while controlling her access to air. She deserves some stress relief. After satisfying herself with the vibrator, Elise then handcuffs herself to the bed for some solo relaxation time. To be continued :)

[im-a-wizard-who-dont-crime]

*the wizard found himself in a strange, rubber hose-esqe realm... with a strange presence in the air*

*scans the substance*

[maskedcop10]

AI created by dronifier-b45

It was the first time that Steve was using the special breathing system to keep him alive ashore. They geared him up underwater with the various tube systems, pumping water into his gills, and lungs, a special mixture was also pumped into his hose , The helmet was sealed off as well and filled with a special gas. There were 8 amphibian men created to work and operate deep under water. Their bodies were totally rubber and could absorb the pressure of the deep sea perfect. Steve was into a special air tight room, a special guard checked his body and breathing systems. The breathing of Steve was perfect. He sat down on a bench. A special tube was connected between Steve’s legs, A special valve was fitted into the suit, The tube was connected now and a special liquid was pumped into the valve. The solution kept Steve’s body moist as he was out of the water The communication with Steve was via his voice, although he hardly used his voice now. It sounded electronically and he was used to the sound when he was ashore for special meetings with the navy. The guard looked at Steve on and off. He moved his hand over the smooth body. Steve was sitting on the bench with his large muscular legs apart, the heavy tube between his legs moved slightly. His large feet were transformed into very large fins, and so were his hands. Steve was aware of the guard and that he was turned on by him as well. Steve let the guard move around and kept breathing slowly. Steve was wearing on his bag two heavy tanks, which were part of his support system ashore. He knew the guard was turned on by look of him, and a large cock was showing in the tight rubber suit, Steve’s large piece of meat was fitted inside a special sheath. But now due to the various chemicals he was breathing he was getting semi hard inside his sheath and that was uncomfortable, as the tube was connected to his valve between his legs. He signalled the guard and asked him to remove the tube for some time. The guard did what was told him and liquid was flown out of the valve. Before the valve was locked again and guard when inside with his hand and felt the monster size cock inside. The moment the guard touched the cock Steve start growing and his cock appeared out the sheath. The guard moaned and felt the monster size, thick and heavy black rubber. Steve was ready for action, usually he breed under water but this guy wanted more from him and he as able to give that

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#352

“Hey, if you want to suck my dick and eat my ass follow me.  Don’t look surprised.  I’ve been watching you from my office window sitting on that bench pretending to read a book only to follow older businessmen into that public bathroom.  I know what goes on in there, and it’s disgusting.  Not the sex, but the cleanliness.  So if you want to be impaled on my dick in a clean and private office, follow me….

“Don’t speak until we get into the building and walk a few paces behind me…  And past security and into the elevator. 

“Hey Steven.  How many?...  Five?  Thanks.

“…Into the elevator.  I see you recognized our security guard.  He knows about you.  He was telling me that you know how to handle a big dick.  That is the only reason that you are going into my office.  He just told me that you followed five men into the bathroom and you both were in there for at least five minutes.  He saw it all on the security cameras.

“We are the first on the left….  Right here.  I am the only one who works in this office.  I have been without a receptionist, ever since the last one had to quit after his husband found out I was fucking him once a day.  I don’t know why he was upset, that was an unwritten condition for employment from day one.  Since he’s been gone, I don’t really need a receptionist—a fuckboy yes, but a receptionist no.  No one ever comes to this office without an appointment.

“Get naked.  All cunts are naked in my private office, either in this receptionist area or in my own office.  Fold your clothes and put them on the desk.  When you are naked, come into my office….

“…Good, now kneel in front of my desk.  You take orders well.  That’s good.  You shave your body.  I like that a lot.  Do you do that on your own, or are you ordered to do it?...  On your own….  Oh, so you really know your role in the faggot hierarchy.  Good. 

“Well, you are sparking an interest in my dick.  Here look at it.  I like to walk around here with my dick and balls hanging out.  Sometimes, I’m pantsless.

“Bend over and show me your cunt….  Nice and smooth.  How many of the men you serviced earlier shot in here?...  None?  They shot down your throat.  Didn’t they want your cunt?...  Are you at least cleaned out?...  We’ll see how good you did.  Follow me.

“This is my private bathroom.  I took this office so that I had my own toilet.  See that rubber mat in front of the shower?  Get on all fours on it with your shoulders on the mat and your cunt up in the air….

“Ain’t that a pretty site.  I can’t wait until my cock fills that hole.  But first, this.  Look at me fag.  You know what this is?...  This is an enema bag, an old school two-quart enema bag.  Here’s some lube; put it on your pussy lips. 

“Here’s the nozzle.  Shove it in.  Now hold it in place, while I open the hose.  There’s two quarts.  Don’t fidget, and don’t you dare lose a drop.  Let it fill you up.  We are going to get you squeaky clean. 

“Don’t move.  You’re going to get filled up pretty soon, and it’s going to be painful.  Just think about my cock—look at it; it’s liking what you are doing.  I have nine and a half inches ready to be shoved inside of you.  Just got to get you empty of fag mud.

“Look, you got it all inside.  Hurts hunh?  Now stand up, and don’t you dare leak….  Don’t you dare move to my toilet.  My ass is the only ass that has touched that toilet seat, and I plan on keeping it that way.  

“When I say so, I want you to go into the shower and close the glass door then let it rip.  Let me get the shower going. 

“Look at your abdomen.  You are full….  In the shower and empty NOW!

“You moved fast!  Let it go!  I don’t care if there is shit everywhere; you’re the one who said you were cleaned out.  So you’re gonna clean up after yourself…. Don’t look at me like that, fagboy.  That’s your disgusting mess.  Don’t worry, I have cleaning supplies.

“You empty?  Good.  Get on all fours right there in the shower and present your cunt towards the glass door.  I have another bag for you.  But I have an offer.  I have to take a piss.  Want it in your face?  Or, do you want me to add it to the enema bag?...  What was that? 

“You want half and half?  You disgusting nasty nasty nasty fag.  Heh heh.  That wasn’t a choice.  So you like piss play.  Good.

“Stick the nozzle back in and let’s get this next bag to flood your guts.  So, you want to know how I know you are a piss fag?  Remember Steven, the security guard from downstairs?  He’s been watching you cruise that bathroom for months now.  He used to be a private investigator.  Once you caught my attention, I asked him to find out who you are.  You are 22-year-old Gregory Monson, a recent part-time student at the community college down the road.  You work weekends at Best Buy selling appliances.  You share an apartment with a driver for Amazon.  You are totally a sperm burping fag who drives across the city to go to the daddy bear bar.  You pursue men who resemble your father, a man who had to give up construction due to a back injury but went into the suit and tie life in executive sales.

“Hold still in place.  I got to add my piss to the bag for your puss.  Oh man!  It feels good to unleash my bladder.  That’s probably a quart of piss in the bag making its way down the hose.  You are full.  Here let me clamp the hose.  Take the nozzle out of your cunt.  Stick it in your mouth….  What? You said you wanted to drink half of it.  You are a nasty fag; ass to mouth should be a turn on to you.  Drink!

“When the rest of the bag empties into your stomach, stand up, and close the shower door….  OK, let it go.  Damn, your first load was very dirty, this one is almost clear.  Keep squirting.

“So you like the daddies?  Well I like the boys.  Steven gave me the final report on you last week.  I’m impressed.  One would think that someone who spends that much time as a cruising bathroom cock sucking whore, that the rest of your life would be in shambles.  You may go to the bars looking for daddy dick, but you aren’t in debt, you’ve been a dutiful employee at Best Buy for three years straight.  So you are a responsible nasty cock sucking whore.

“Behind you is the hand held shower sprayer.  Point it in the enema bag to fill it up.  You will be taking over that part of your cleaning out.  See the hook on the wall below and to the right of the showerhead.  The bag hangs there.  Back on your knees.  Let it fill you up a third time.  When it is emptied, you don’t have to wait for me.  Just get into a squatting position and squirt it out.

“So, you have been looking for a daddy to take care of you?  Well boy, I would like to see if you can handle what I have to dish out.  You up for spending a few days taking care of my needs?...  Good.  Good.  It’s Monday, I know you primarily work Thursday through Sunday.  Is that right?  Good.  Do you have any commitments between now and Thursday afternoon?  Great.  I will be your sole focus until then.

“The one thing that concerns me is that I hear that you are a pushy bottom.  Wait, what’s the current term?...  ‘Power Bottom.’  That shit needs to be shut down.  I do not and will not tolerate some pushy bottom.  My needs are your needs.  Your desire is to take care of my pleasure.  That’s it.  I’m going to ignore your pecker, and you will be expected to do the same.  Cleanliness is foreplay to me.  My cock has been rock hard watching you humiliate yourself cleaning out your cunt.  You will do that every day.  Sitting at my desk, and with the bathroom door open, I can watch you and jack off to you cleaning out.  And yes, it will be with the enema bag.  I can’t stand cunts inadequately cleaned with a Shower Shot.  

“Oh it looks like third bag seems to be a winner.  Squirt every drop out.  When you finish, stand up. 

“If I take you on as my fag boy you will be expected to clean out daily.  We’ll adjust your diet to make things easier.  You will clean out with the door open so I can watch.  You will be well groomed at all times.  Keep your body below the nose free of hair.  I will take you to my barber to give you a proper haircut before Thursday. 

“Should I take you on after Thursday, you will quit your job, and you will work for me.  I will train you on what you need to do around here and at my home.  Primarily it is to take care of my needs.  All the stuff I mentioned before will be expected to be done at home.  One of the things my fagboys loved to do is join me in the shower and wash me head to toe. 

“You will also keep both places clean and organized.  First thing you are going to learn to do is wash out that shower.  Behind you and on the left, see those two buttons?  Push the one on the left.  That sprays water on all sides of the shower.  As you can see, standing in the middle of it also hoses you down.  The key is that it and the handheld pushes your fag turds into the drain.  Push the second button.  That starts the flushable floor drain to take your shit out of here.  I had that put in special when I moved in.  C’mon out here.

“Turn around.  Good.  Normally, you would do this all on your own.  And when you finished hosing things down you would sanitize the sides by hand.  The cleaning supplies are under the sink.  Here’s a towel.  I expect this bathroom to be scrubbed down.  Never use chemicals to clean my toilet seat.  Instead, I expect you to lick it clean. 

“Your mouth is going to keep a lot of things clean.  This would include my feet, my dick, my armpits, and my ass.  I’m very hairy, and your mouth will lick just about everyone on my body, especially my ass.

“This way.  I expect rimjobs every day.  I have several rimseats for that.  In fact, look at my desk.  Looks like a normal desk, hunh?  I chose that desk and chair so that I can have a faggot like yourself service me.  There’s plenty of room for you to be under there worshiping my feet, orally giving me a pedicure or a blow job; although I prefer blowjobs where I can skull fuck. 

“See that desk chair.  The memory foam seat comes up and reveals… a rim seat.  You will be under there for hours at a time.  I had it made by this man in the mountains; that’s all he makes, custom rim chairs.  I love having a faggot clean my hairy shithole while I am doing my day-to-day work.  That’s a head strap that goes under it to give your head support and keeps your face wedged in my crack.

“Look at our peckers.  We are both rock hard.  We want this.  Look out these floor to ceiling windows.  Don’t worry, no one can see in.  I made sure of that before signing the lease.  Look down.  See the bench you would be sitting on?  I have been watching you for some time, you filthy whore. 

“I think it’s time that I claim that cunt.  Get down on your knees.  I only want to use your spit for lube….  Oh fuck boy.  You are hungry.  You know how to throat a man.  That speaks volumes.

“Boy I am only going to tell you once.  That pecker between your legs is off limits to you.  I don’t like cages, but I would put a painful one on you if I need to.  Don’t worry, I like to jerk my fag boys when we are in bed for the night.  I use their loads as lube for a piledriving brutal fuck.  I hope you aren’t one of those faggots who lose interest after cumming.  I’m still fucking you one way or the other.  It’s usually the longest and most savage fuck of the day.  I like to expend all that energy before I roll to my side and fall asleep with the fag in my arms and my cock still in its cunt.

“Fuck I can’t take any more.  Stand up and put your hands on the window.  Spread your legs and arch your back.  Fuck yeah.  Daddy’s coming in, and I’m going right to the root.  You figure out how to accommodate me. 

“Fuck your cunt feels good.  Oh man.  It is not going to be long.  Look at that daddy going into the bathroom down below.  He’s looking for a cocksucker and a cunt to fuck.  That cunt is up here wrapped around my dick.  Oh man.  You ready faggot?  You ready?  Daddy is going to flood your faggot guts.  Here it comes.  Here it fucking cums.  Ahhhh ahhhh ahhhh!

“Clean me up.  Boy, you know how to take care of a man.  No ass to mouth problems now I see….  Here drink a little piss.  There you go.

“…Fuck.  Pull off.  Now get under the desk chair,… no, your body should lie behind me.  You comfortable?  Good.  You are going to be down there for a while.  So this will be the first time you see my ass, taste it too.

“…What was that?  It’s hard to hear you….  I’m a bit dirty back there?  Faggot that’s your job.  Get that tongue in action.  I got a shitload of work to do.”

[abibliophobiaa]

hello lunieee

I would like to request some dad!Steve-

HAH

just kidding.

I would love some dad!Eddie in the summer playing with his tween kid - maybe running through the sprinkler or someone gets sprayed with the hose, maybe eating ice pops, but most important of all is Eddie being a nerdy, kinda lame adorkable dad that his kid both loves and cringes at. Bonus points if we are watching him and really feelin' a surge of attraction or affection based on his antics.

thank you love youuu 💕

Gone Fishing: Just Go With It…

warnings: r is pregnant, minor injury & barely edited — i needed something soft, sweet and fluffy today. (2.6k words)

dad!eddie munson x afab!mom!reader.

masterlist

——

It’s meant to be a joke.

A little Russian Roulette game, if you will. A precursor to the barbecue plans with your friends for the summer festivities to determine if the pitcher of sangria Robin put her heart and soul into will end up going to waste.

Once you’ve all taken your tests, Max and El have you all turn around and scramble the order. When ready, you all turn around to find the three tests face up on the countertop.

“Mine’s negative,” Robin says, dramatically wiping the back of her hand over her brow. “What a relief!”

But she’s met only with silence.

Until. “Holy shit,” Max breathes out, trying to not break out into incredulous laughter.

“That one is definitely positive,” El points out, hooking her chin over Nancy’s shoulder.

Two lines.

Two very dark lines.

So you…or Nancy.

Baby number four for her, or number three for you.

Shit.

Nancy bites her lip. Turns to you, smile a little hopeful despite the fact your nerves are buzzing to life at the prospect of another baby when you and Eddie hadn’t intended for another baby.

“Guess we have to take another,” she says, reaching for more test strips.

——

“Hey man, can you watch Quinnie?” Eddie asks, passing off the giggly two year old to her honorary uncle. “I’m just going to run to the bathroom.”

And they prove to be famous last words.

Words that change a lot.

Because as he’s washing his hands, humming a song that had been playing on the radio before he’d run inside, he spots the tests.

Multiple tests.

He’s seen a few since becoming a dad to know what two lines or a smiley face means.

He also knows that you, Nancy, Robin, El and Max had all gone to the bathroom at the same time to ‘take care of something.’

So despite it being his bathroom, in his home, he’s not sure if it’s your test.

But, he does know someone is pregnant.

Someone standing outside in his backyard just a few feet away.

The sudden realization hits him then. Either he’s becoming an uncle again to four, or a father of three.

Shit.

——

“And you’re sure?” Steve asks, carding his fingers through his hair. Eddie pulls the strips out of his pocket and Steve whisper-yells, “There’s pee on those!”

“Grow up, Harrington, they’ve got the caps on. We have bigger things to worry about.” Eddie holds the tests in the space between the two of them, bent low near the grill, far away from the rest of the guests.

In the distance he can see you and Nancy watching the youngest Harringtons and Munsons in the pool while the older “kids” watch on. James’ laughter echoes as Dustin and Lucas toss him up into the air and catch him, his little rubber ducky floaties keeping him from slipping too far beneath the water’s surface.

You’re glowing, Quinn bouncing on your hip, wearing the same brightly colored summer dress you’re wearing that flutters around your thighs in the cool summer breeze. And he wonders briefly whether or not you carry a little secret beneath your heart.

“So one of us is pregnant?” Steve exhales deeply as Eddie nods, running a palm down his face. “Look—I know I said I wanted six, but I’m overrun by girls at the moment, Ed. Do you know how terrifying throwing a fourth girl into the mix is?”

Steve’s gaze travels over to Nancy and his three little girls. One reaches out to grab at her little ‘cousin’ Quinn, while the other two try to quite literally become mermaids in the pool, little legs kicking behind them, spraying Mike Wheeler in the face until he’s redder than a damn tomato.

“What do you think we should do?” Eddie asks, flipping over the burgers on the grill, waving as you look over your shoulder and give him one of your wonderful smiles he loves so much.

“Should we ask them?” Steve wonders, tossing some cheese on top, both men watching with increasing nervousness over their present (potential) situations.

“No—no, you absolutely cannot ask them if they’re pregnant.” Eddie shoves the bag of burger buns into his best friend’s chest. “Start laying the buns in that container right there. Yeah, that one. But as I was saying…asking a woman if she’s pregnant is enough to get you as number one on their to-kill list. Do you not fear death?”

Steve seems to consider this, swallowing thickly as he lays out the buns in the tin container so Eddie can begin loading burgers on top. “Nancy will murder me in my sleep.”

“Exactly.” Once the burgers are loaded up, he calls out into the open yard that dinner is ready and then claps Steve on the shoulder. “Best plan of action is to be supportive, remain calm, and act natural.”

——

“Are the guys being a little weird?” You ask, running your fingers through Quinn’s little curls, the two year old dozing against your chest.

“You two married the weirdest guys in Hawkins,” Robin says, sipping her cup of sangria. “I’d say this is within normal limits for them.”

“Steve knocked my drink out of my hand,” Nancy points out, pulling at a piece of cookie and popping it into her mouth.

“And Eddie kept demanding I eat more,” you add, laughing at the memory of your overly eager husband adding more macaroni salad to your plate as soon as you’d finished your first spoonful. “He also kept asking me if I should be holding Quinn.”

The men in question are presently standing in the yard bare chested in their swimsuits, with the sprinkler running. The kids rush through the stream all taking turns, still donning their little pool floaties, little shrieks of joy and peals of infectious laughter warming your heart.

Because you and Eddie finally saved up enough to buy this home, and are now sharing it with your friends who are more likely family now, and seeing the happiness on all their faces has made all the endless hours of work, hardships and obstacles so worth it.

So no, you can’t help the fear that wedges into your heart if you disrupt all of that.

——

“J! NO!”

Quinn whines from Eddie’s lap as James leans over and snatches a marshmallow from the bag his daughter is insistent upon keeping clutched in her tiny palms.

“Quinnie, give me!”

Quinn’s newest favorite word in the dictionary other than Momma and Dadda?

No.

She uses it so often, Eddie sometimes forgets she’s picked up others throughout the past few months.

“NO!”

This time, her little fingers curl in her brother’s hair and give a harsh tug. Hard enough he winces and scrambles onto Eddie’s lap, knocking the wind from him when his knobby knee jabs him in the stomach, to try and alleviate the stress on his hair.

Catching his bearings once more, Eddie grips his daughter’s hand and unfurls her angry little knuckles, finger by finger until she reluctantly releases James.

“Quinnie, let’s be nice to your brother,” Eddie coos, bouncing her on his thigh as you start to rise from your chair, conversation with Nancy and Robin pausing to see the commotion. Wanting to show you he can, in fact, handle three kids, he shakes his head, reassuring, “I’ve got this.”

“NO!”

Steve glances over from beside him, braiding both his little girl’s hair into braids at the backs of their heads. Eddie frowns, and Steve gives him a sympathetic smile as his own littlest one trips over the leg of his chair and takes a tumble onto the patio below, scraping her knee and bursting into ear piercing wails, crying out for Mama.

——

“Chloe, do you want vanilla or chocolate ice cream for being such a good girl?” You ask, leaning your back against the kitchen counter as Nancy finishes putting a pink bandaid on her youngest daughter’s knee.

Hazel eyes that resemble her father’s peer up at you, fingers pointing to the vanilla container held up in your hands. “‘Bow sprinkle, pease!”

“She wants rainbow sprinkles,” Nancy clarifies as you get to work on her daughter’s ice cream, shoulders slouching, tears burning on your lower lash line. “Hey. Hey. What’s going on? You’ve been quiet tonight.”

Forearm pressing to your sweat-slick forehead, you sigh. “Eddie and I never talked about having another baby. We’ve been trying to save up for the house, we got the house, and now we’re really only just settling into the house. And I don’t even know how this happened, or how he’s going to react, or if he even wants another baby. We always said two and I-I—”

“Momma cry,” Quinn huffs beside Chloe, lifting at the edge of her frilly little summer dress.

You let out a weak laugh at that, sniffling noisily. “Momma is crying, yes sweetie.”

Nancy tugs you close as you join her and the girls on the counter, handing each of the greediest little ones a tiny spoon to likely smear vanilla ice cream on their faces with.

“We planned for James and planned for Quinnie.” With a groan, you grab your own spoon and shovel a spoonful of rainbow sprinkles into your mouth, needing a little sweetness to quell the nervousness bubbling in your belly.

“Well, it seems like that little one had other plans. I know it’s not ideal. But if you take away the house, if you take away all the other things stressing you out right about now, what do you feel?”

And that’s the thing. If you think about it. If you really think about it, you love your husband. Have for so many years now. You married him for all of the reasons you’d said in your vows. Wanted to take on life together, build a family, build a home.

Now here you are, still as deeply in love with him as you were that day, in the house of your dreams you never thought you’d own, with your sweet little boy who has love in his heart and joy in his laugh, and your little girl with her father’s tenacity and your features, and this unexpected little one, faceless and nameless and yet loved.

So so loved already.

“I’m happy. Just…really happy.”

“Then you’ll figure everything else out as you go.”

——

Outside, Eddie’s sitting near the bonfire with his acoustic guitar on his lap, strumming along to a silly song meant for the children. Made up, naturally. A tale of beautiful princes and princesses who wield swords and fight impressive dragons, of harrowing tales and defeating evil.

James sits on his lap, beaming bright, with chocolate smeared across his cheeks, heading into what is surely to be a lovely night of sleep induced by a food coma. Steve’s got his two older daughters, Olivia and Violet, draped over each of his thighs, their heads swaying back and forth and feet kicking as Eddie slips in and out of singing and speaking his stories.

The older kids in “The Party” have started cleaning up, weaving in and out of the house as you and Nancy make your way back outside the sliding glass door with Chloe and Quinn on your hips.

And later, as Steve and Robin show the kids how to safely play with sparklers, tips of their little fireworks exploding into colorful light, Eddie pulls you into his side and presses a kiss to your temple, murmuring he loves you against your skin.

You reply the same, turning your head enough so you can peck him once. Then again, humming into his smile. “Our first party in our new home.”

“The Munson home,” he says, kissing you once more.

And as his arms loop around your waist and James calls out “Mommy and Daddy look!” his little face illuminated in the dark, excitement blooming across his features, and your little girl dancing with Max and El off in the grass, you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

In this home, with your family, and these people.

——

Quinn is already down for the night when Eddie starts getting James ready for bed. The boy in question yawns and protests very little as his father lifts him once he’s done dressing for bed and lays him down in his bed shaped like a little race car that Steve had helped put together for him on his sixth birth.

“Can we read The Hobbit?” James asks, clambering over his father’s chest as he settles down beside him on the mattress.

“Yes, but only one chapter, okay?”

James nods his agreement and Eddie begins where they left off, using all the silly fake voices that James always laughs at. Those belly laughs that shake the boy, and warm Eddie from head to toe. Those same laughs that remind him he’s not his father. That reminds him that he’s been made for this; to be your husband, James’ dad and Quinn’s dad. He’s got his support system. His uncle who is more a father to him now than anything else and the strength of his friendships. All he needs, really.

As he finishes reading, and James’ eyes grow heavier, his head curling into Eddie’s neck, James whispers, “I love you, daddy.” Eddie replies the same. Lifts his head and finds you there in the doorway.

Sees the worry lining your brow, remembers the way Nancy had warned him you’d been a little upset as her, Steve and the kids had left, and he has an inkling why. But he doesn’t know for certain.

All he knows is no matter what, as long as you have each other, it’ll all be okay.

You’ll figure out the rest as you go.

——

“Hey, baby? Can you come here for a second?” Eddie calls, just as you finish brushing your teeth and pat your face dry.

Exhaling deeply, you slip out of the bathroom and find him already propped up against the mountain of pillows on your bed, bare chest on display. He’s added tattoos as time has gone by, meant to cover the tapestry of scars across his skin, the same ones that you’ve traced countless times over the years, forever thankful that he’s still here.

His hands reach out to curl around the fullest part of your hips as you lower yourself down onto his lap, a thigh bracketing each of his hips, your own hands resting against the heat of his chest.

He rubs gentle patterns there. Callus scarred fingers dance across your thighs, along the curve of your hips, over your ribcage, the smallest point of your back, the softness of your stomach. Eddie pauses there, dark eyes meeting your own, tongue dragging a slow line across his lips.

“Eddie…” you begin, but Eddie jumps in before you can say any more.

“I want you to know I saw the pregnancy tests in the bathroom. I don’t know if they’re yours, but I wouldn’t be upset if they are. We have this home, we have each other. I got that promotion to manager at the shop, we’ve been saving. We might not have planned for another one, but I think we did a pretty damn good job with the first two, and I would love this baby so much and I—”

“It was my test. Both of them. I’m pregnant.”

His fingers spread further across your stomach, before reaching up to grip at both your cheeks and pull you close for a lingering kiss that has your toes curling. Before you can say anything else, he’s rolling you over onto your back and shoving at the flimsy sleep shirt you’re wearing, pressing kiss after kiss to your midsection.

“I’ll take it that you’re happy?” you giggle, threading your fingers in the soft curls at the back of his head.

Another kiss, this time to your belly button. “So happy,” he says, a grin growing against your skin. “Hi Maisie, it’s your daddy. I already love you so, so much.”

“Maisie, huh?”

“We always liked the name, and I have a gut feeling.”

Several months later, Eddie’s right.

Maisie Munson enters the world.

Seven pounds, six ounces, and pure love.

——

——

[major-mads]

Dulag Luft

Places of Interest in Masters of the Air

Masterlist

When captured by the Germans, Allied airmen would be sent to Dulag Luft, the interrogation and transit POW camp for the Luftwaffe that was just northeast of the city of Frankfurt. This is the camp where Cleven and Egan were held in solitary confinement for weeks before being transported right outside Sagan to Stalag Luft III.

Dulag Luft interrogators were some of the best in the business, and Miller describes them in Masters of the Air as "deeply skilled specialists who preferred methods more subtle than a rubber hose (Miller, 2007, pg. 386)." Many of these interrogators had spent time in America and were fluent in English. The conversation "would begin by offering him chocolate and cigarettes and then draw him into some light banter about American baseball or movies.... [the conversation] became so congenial that many airmen were unaware that the interrogation had begun (Miller, 2007, pg. 386)."

The interrogators had thick folders on each man and their bomb group. They gathered their information from intercepted communications, Stars and Stripes newspaper articles, and anything else they could get their hands on. It unnerved some of the men that the Germans knew such specific details of themselves, their families, and their bombardment groups. The conditions were terrible, and many of the officers were subjected to solitary confinement for weeks at a time.

Miller writes about this in his book:

“Downed Allied airmen felt safer in the hands of the German military than they did with the local citizenry they had bombed. Luftwaffe police and interrogators were in official charge of captured airmen, and their tactics for extracting information were rough but rarely barbaric. After being captured, Lou Loevsky was shipped with other downed American airmen to Dulag Luft, the Luftwaffe interrogation center for Allied airmen at Oberursel, a suburb of Frankfurt am Main. At one point in his interrogation a smiling Luftwaffe major asked Roger Burwell why the men in his 381st Bomb Group at Ridgewell had not yet fixed the broken clock in their officers club. Airmen who refused to provide military or personal information were usually threatened verbally. Some were told that their families would not be informed they were alive and "safe" until they began to cooperate; men captured without identification tags were warned that they could be turned over to the Gestapo to be executed as spies. One stubbornly tight-lipped officer - married and with children - was told that if he persisted in his obstinacy, a report would go out the next day from the German radio station in Calais that the night before he was shot down he had been at the Grosvenor House in London, in room 413, with an attractive blond woman. Knowing that the information was exactly correct, the major is reported to have fainted on the spot. Prisoners were also softened up by the appalling conditions at Dulag Luft: the tomblike isolation, the starvation rations, and the mice that ran free in the dank cells, and crawled in prisoners' pockets searching for food. Sometimes the promise of a shower, a shave, and a hot meal was sufficient to loosen a man's tongue. The guards also fiendishly manipulated the temperatures in the cells, shutting off the electric wall heaters in the winter and turning them up to intolerable levels, to 130 degrees, in warmer weather. Hundreds of airmen arrived at Dulag Luft wounded and were denied medical treatment, a flagrant violation of the Geneva Conventions regarding prisoners of war. "My interrogator said he could see that I was injured and needed treatment and that my being stubborn would only delay my being sent to a hospital," Roger Burwell re-called. On the other hand, high-ranking Allied fliers believed to possess specialized military information were taken on hunting trips or invited to raucous drinking parties with German officers.

Most of the information was gathered from Allied sources by Dulag Luft's efficient staff, who scrutinized American magazines and newspapers brought in from neutral Portu-gal, including Stars and Stripes, a rich source of hometown information about airmen. Additional information, including logbooks, briefing notes, and airmen's personal diaries, was gathered from clothing and other personal belongings found in the charred wreckage of bombers. These documents often contained highly secret data about flight patterns, the effectiveness of German defenses, and targets marked for future bombing. An officer in the American Air Force's Counter Intelligence Corps noted at the time that 'it was not uncommon for large German manufacturers to ask the Luftwaffe if their factories were on the list, and if so, when they could expect to be bombed." German linguists also monitored Allied airmen's wireless communications. According to Hanns Scharff, the interrogators at Dulag Luft had at their disposal a copious file in which "nearly every single word spoken in the air from plane to plane or from base to plane or vice-versa was carefully noted." As Air Force counter-intelligence experts noted in their own secret files, "nothing in the way of documents, written or printed, was too insignificant to merit close scrutiny" by the intelligence staff at Dulag Luft. A case in point is the airmen's ration cards. Every American flier in the European Theater received exactly the same kind of card, and there was nothing on the card to indicate where he was stationed. But investigators at Dulag Luft were able to identify an airman's bomb group by the way his card was canceled. At Thorpe Abbotts, for example, the clerks on duty in the PX marked the cards with a heavy black pencil. The PX counter was made of rough board. All the cards canceled there carried the impression of its distinctive pattern in the black pencil markings. The Air Force's Counter Intelligence Corps estimated that 80 percent of the information obtained by Dulag Luft was supplied by captured documents and monitored radio traffic, with the remainder coming from POW interrogations. After the war, when he was hired as an interpreter by the American military, Hanns Scharff estimated that all but twenty of the more than 500 airmen he questioned disclosed operational and tactical information that proved useful to the Luftwaffe. Few of these airmen, he emphasized, did it knowingly, or through intimidation or a conscious desire to improve the conditions of their confinement. "I suppose he got something out of me," said one flier, "but to this day I haven't the least idea what it could have been." After being released from Dulag Luft, Loevsky and several dozen other airmen were taken by tram to Frankfurt, where they were herded onto cattle cars and sent deep into German-occupied territory to Stalag Luft III (Air Camp number three), near the town of Sagan, a hundred miles southeast of Berlin, one of the half-dozen main POW camps operated by the Luftwaffe hence the term "Luft," or air-for Allied airmen (Miller, 2007, pg. 387-89)."

Dulag Luft was the first stop in a sequence of camps and transportation depots that downed airmen had to go through. Hopefully, we'll get to see more of the camp in the show! We're less than a month away, guys! The wait is almost over!!

tag list: @ronald-speirs @footprintsinthesxnd @georgieluz @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @gloryofwinter

message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list! <3

[iboatedhere]

Heya! If you are still taking prompts then FirstPrince sailboat AU please? 😁⛵

Or garden hose if that's already been suggested! 🌞

If you so fancy ❤️

A little F1 AU?

---

Henry leans against the railing on the lower deck. He looks down at the dark water and watches the lights dance across it. 

It’s past midnight, but Port Hercule is wide awake. Yachts packed in like sardines in a tin, music blasting, beats and lyrics mixing together and creating a jumbled mess of noise. People are talking and singing in French, English, German, and Italian, and there’s a splash as something or someone hits the water, followed by raucous laughter. The smell of burnt rubber, high-octane fuel, and grease still lingers in the air, mixing with the heavy scent of cigar smoke and gunpowder from celebratory post-race fireworks.

Henry would rather be anywhere else, like behind a door that locks. Without people knocking for autographs or photos. Without women offering things he’s never been interested in. 

He wants to go home to his little cottage on the outskirts of London, where there’s plenty of room for David to run and no cameras, reporters, or team principals. 

He just needs a moment of peace, and the little bubble he’s created here will have to do.  

“Henry…”

Henry closes his eyes as the bubble bursts, and Alex’s footsteps echo down the stairs.  

“Someone said you went this way,” Alex says as he steps onto the deck, an entire bottle of champagne in his hand. 

He’s in a suit, jacket on but shirt unbuttoned nearly halfway down his chest. Henry’s seen him in this fit more than in his fireproofs. 

The suit is high-end, of course, and every designer is clamoring to dress him. He’s been on the cover of more fashion magazines than Henry can count. They’ve been popping up in his caravan, and he has a sneaking suspicion that Bea is to blame. 

“Remind me to have that person fired,” Henry says dryly. 

“You can’t fire Cash,” Alex says. “I’d be sad.” 

“God forbid.”

Alex laughs, loose and easy, drunk and happy. 

That’s the whole point, that Alex is happy. 

Alex is everything Mercedes wanted Henry to be. Alex fills in the gaps where Henry fell short. 

Henry wants to race; that’s all he’s ever wanted, but Alex is here to perform. 

Alex is vibrant and outgoing. He’s good on camera and in interviews. He is intelligent and funny, with zero reservations about letting everyone know it. He brings attention and new viewers to the sport, dating this hot, young starlet or that rising pop star. 

F1 sponsors want to pay him, men and women want to be with him, and Henry…Henry just wants him. 

“Why aren’t you celebrating?” Alex asks.

“I don’t know exactly what there is for me to celebrate.” 

“Umm, hello,” Alex says, gesturing to himself with his free hand. 

Above all else, Alex is good at racing, having come in first or at least on pole in the last five out of seven races. 

“Congratulations to you on your win,” Henry says as Alex takes a long swig from the bottle, tipping his head back as it spills down his chin and neck. 

Henry’s knuckles go white on the railing. “But you’ll have to forgive me for not wanting to celebrate my own performance.”

“Okay, first of all,” Alex says, pressing the bottle into Henry’s hand and gesturing for him to drink. “We’re a team, so my win is your win—don’t fucking roll your eyes at me—and P6 is nothing to get upset about. You’re in points. That matters.”

“You should tell my brother that.”

“I will. Is he here?”

Henry snorts. “This isn’t exactly my brother’s type of party. It’s not really my type of party, either.”

“Do you mean a fun one?”

“I’m fun,” Henry says as he playfully shoves at Alex’s shoulder. “I am, but this isn’t me.”

“It’s not me either,” Alex says, and Henry laughs. “Why is that funny?”

“Because it’s such a lie. You’re made for this.” 

“No, I’m just good at acting like I am. This isn’t me. This isn’t how I was raised–yachts, champagne, and women hanging off of me constantly, only using me for a photo op.” 

Henry wants to argue that that’s not him either, especially that last bit, but his father’s legacy looms too large, and Henry knows his privilege. 

“Well, I must say you’ve caught on very quickly. And I wasn’t raised on a yacht. It was a thirty-foot schooner.”

Alex laughs. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Henry’s fingers tap against the bottle as he pulls up fond memories of off-seasons spent out on the sailboat with his family. “My father taught me to sail when I was very young.”

“Was that before or after he taught you how to drive? Or was that just in your genes?”

“He taught me,” Henry says softly, pushing those memories back. 

Alex nods and doesn’t push. “Do you still have the boat?”

“Yes,” Henry says. “Docked at St. Katherine.”

“You should take me out sometime,” Alex says, soft and eyes locked on Henry, and Henry nearly drops the champagne bottle.

“If you’d like,” he says, voice barely a whisper, but the way Alex’s gaze drops to his lip lets Henry know he’s heard.

[staceymcgillicuddy]

For the meme: 42. The answer to everything.

Yay, thank you! This one inspired a 5+1 for me, I have no idea why, but here you go! So, like, five times that Eddie was amazed at Chrissy's privileged upbringing + one time she turned the tables.

1. 

“What’s that for?” Chrissy asks as they pull into a gas station and up to the air hose. 

“What’s what for?” Eddie asks as he cuts the engine and makes to hop out and fill his tires, which are pretty much dry rot and worn rubber at this point, but that doesn’t mean he can’t take care of them until they inevitably send him spiraling across the highway one day. 

“The vacuum.” 

“It’s not a vacuum. It’s for putting air in the tires.” 

“You have to put air in tires?” 

“Jesus, Cunningham. How have you survived this long by yourself? Yes, you have to put air in the tires.” 

Chrissy fixes him with a pout, but he doesn’t think she’s actually offended. “I don’t know! I don’t have a car!”

“Yeah, well. Pro-tip. Air in the tires when you do.” 

“Thanks, Eddie. You’re a pal.” 

2. 

“No, you have to, like… inhale twice,” Eddie says, holding the burning joint between his fingers as Chrissy makes a face. 

“But it tastes gross.” 

“Yeah, I know. That’s not the point.” 

Chrissy sighs. Leans in. Wraps that perfect pucker of hers around the end of the joint and inhales. 

Two minutes later, when she’s finally recovered from her coughing fit, Eddie’s just about stopped laughing. 

“You’re so mean to me,” she sighs. 

“Yeah, well, I still can’t figure out how you survived this long by yourself, dude.” 

3. 

“There’s something outside!” 

Chrissy’s whisper cuts through the darkness of Eddie’s bedroom like a needle, jabbing him directly in the brain and rousing him from an extremely pleasant dream that also involved Chrissy talking. Only, in his dream, it was less a panicked whisper and more a soothing reassurance that, yeah, his dick really was too big for her. 

“Huh?” He blinks just as something crashes outside the trailer. “Oh.” 

“Eddie! Someone’s breaking in!”

“Uh, no. That’s a raccoon.” 

“A raccoon?” She sits up like he told her aliens had landed on the lawn. “Outside?!”

“No, on the moon. Yes, it’s outside.” 

“Can it get in?” 

“… do you know how big raccoons are?” 

“You’re the one with the bathroom window that won’t close.” 

“Sweetheart. The garbage monster can’t get you. Can we please go back to sleep?” 

“Can you go and check?” 

Eddie sighs. Rolls onto his side and buries his face in the pillow. “You check if you’re so concerned.” 

“Please, Eddie?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles like he’s not already reaching for his boxers and boots. “Seriously, Cunningham. How have you survived this long?” 

4. 

“You’ve never had a Twinkie?” 

“No.” 

“Shit, Chrissy. How have you survived this long without eating a Twinkie?” 

5. 

“I don’t want to do it.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I can’t see the bottom.” 

“There’s nothing on the bottom! It’s a lake.” 

“It looks dirty.” 

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose. “Chrissy…” 

“What if there’s an alligator?” 

“We’re in Indiana.” 

“So?” 

“So, there aren’t alligators in Indiana.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, I’m sure.” 

“What about sharks?” 

“What… lake sharks?” 

Eddie almost believes her until he sees the corners of her mouth twitch, and she starts to giggle. 

“Fuck off, Cunningham,” he says, grabbing her around the waist and lifting her off Rick’s dock, fully intending to deposit her in the water. “How you survived this long thinking there are lake sharks…” 

“Eddie, don’t!”

Eddie does. 

+1 

Eddie blinks. “You what?” 

“I love you.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Am I sure? Yes, I’m sure!”

“Oh.” 

“Seriously, oh?” Chrissy feigns offense, pushing her sneaker-clad toes into his thigh and reaching for the joint he’s holding. “Thanks a lot.” 

“No, uh. I mean. Obviously, I love you, too. Just… I never said that to anyone before.” 

Chrissy smiles and takes a long drag, waving the smoke away before speaking. “I know. I’ve honestly been wondering how you survived this long by yourself.” 

Other prompts from this meme!

[maskedcop10]

AI created by CBRTALOS

It was very busy at the entrance of the large rubber party. All kind of man who changed them self in to rubber heavy gear. It was one of the best parties this year, and the theme was heavy rubber and breathing systems. The place looked like a military field, with all kind of gear even motor bikes were placed around. In the middle stood his man in full rubber gear its was like a fighting uniform made of heavy rubber, a special gas mask was fitted tight over his head complete with two filter systems, and a breathing hose connected with a air tank on his back. The tank was a double set so enough for about 1 hour. He got heavy rubber boots on his feet and he shows a well size bulge. He moved down into the large area and the various floors and basements. Lots of rubber man walked around and were checking him out as well. On and off he felt a hand on his rubber ass. but he moves away, he did not want action right away. He walked down to one of the large basements. and walked down the dark corridors. There was not much going on, and he moved further down the the 2nd basement, which was even deeper. Here is was more darker then above, a few lamps gave a little light. Against one of the walls he saw a black figure standing, A total rubber guy with a heavy gas mask over his face with double hoses. The double hoses were also connected to double tanks. The lenses of the masks were all black. The man slowly felt his own large rubber cock under his rubber suit getting hard, this was what he wanted. There was no sound except their breathing of their breasting systems. They grab each other feel their total rubber bodies the rub their crotched against each other. The man felt that the other total rubber figure was massive, He tried to open the fly but that seems locked, the other rubber guy opened his fly and took his large rubber cock out of his suit, and stroke his rock hard cock. He opened one of the small pockets on his belt and placed a small cylinder in his filter system, that he needed badly. The rubber figure took him down deeper in the basement where some cabins were and opened the door and let him inside. Then he closed the door and locked. This could be a long hot night

[leggarbage]

On another note, I can see it so vividly in my head, but the Steven Universe to Trolls 3 pipeline. As someone who was into Steven Universe while it was still airing, I can see it so strongly, specifically with Spinel and Velvet and Veneer.

I mean look at it!

They all are spindly and wiggly and they sing.

I mean clearly they both have different inspirations, obviously. Velvet and Veneer are based off of those Betty Spaghetti toys, which would make sense for the franchise.

And Spinel is inspired by rubber hose animation.

I want to bet at least 50% of the autistic bitches getting into Trolls 3 used to be Steven Universe bitches, as a former autistic Steven Universe bitch.

Anyway, that's enough of my rambling. Hopefully, this doesn't take over my brain. I really don't need to be consumed by the Steven Universe to Trolls 3 pipeline.

[cryptid-stimming]

Four (Battle for Dream Island) Stimboard (with chaotic stims) for Anon

x x x / x x / x x x

[Image description: a 9 gif stimboard; from left to right.

First line: A gif of small toy rubber ducks rotating and being pulled one by one into a whirlpool. A gif of someone playing a lego electronic whack 'a' mole game while a electronic screen keeps tally of their score. And a gif of someone running in an inflatable ball over a swimming pool while water splashes about them.

Second line: A gif of a pepsi vending machine being thrown from a height onto a strong trampoline and spinning in the air in front of a blue cloudy sky. A still image of the character Four from bfdi. And a gif of someone throwing a huge oversized paper airplane from the top of a grassy hill.

Third line: A gif panning over a stretchy shark anthromorphic toy laying in the grass as water from a hose expands it's torso, making the beads inside swirl about. A gif of a science experiment called 'elephant's toothpaste' which is where rapid decomposition of hydrogen peroxide creates a huge expanding tube of foam-like substance that rises up and then falls over. And a gif of a scrub daddy sponge frozen with liquid nitrogen and being crushed with a wooden mallet, frozen mist seeps around it.

End of image description.]

[high-ass-zombie-angel-statue]

Nothin' ever (ever) happens in this town

Feelin' low down (down), not a lot to do around here

I thought that I would go right out of my mind

Until a friend told me the news

He said, "Hey, you know that vacant lot

Right beside the gas station? Well, somebody bought it

And on that spot they're gonna build a shop

Where we can go buy bolts and screws"

Since then I've been walking on air (air)

I can barely brush my teeth or comb my hair

'Cause I'm so excited and I really don't care

I've been waiting since last June

For this day to finally arrive

I'm so happy (happy) now just to be alive

'Cause any minute now I'm gonna be inside

Well, I hope they open soon

I can't wait, (no I) I can't wait (oh when)

When are they gonna open up that door?

I'm goin' (yes I'm) goin', I'm a-goin' to the

Goin' to the (hard) ware I'm goin', really goin' to the

Goin' (hard) I'm goin' to the (hard) oh yes, I'm goin' to the

Hardware store

In my sleeping bag I camped out overnight

Right in front of the store, then as soon as it was light out

I pressed my nose right up against the glass

You know, I had to be first in line

Gonna get me a flashlight and a broom

Want a pair of pliers for every single room of my house

See those hacksaws? Very, very soon

One of them will be all mine

Guys with nametags walking down the aisles

Rows of garden hoses that go on for miles and miles

Brand new socket wrenches in a plethora of styles

All arranged alphabetically

And they're doing a promotional stunt

There's a great big purple sign out front

That says every 27th customer

Will get a ball peen hammer free

I can't wait, (no I) I can't wait (oh when)

When are they gonna open up that door?

I'm goin' (yes I'm) goin', I'm a-goin' to the

Goin' to the (hard) ware I'm goin', really goin' to the

Goin' (hard) I'm goin' to the (hard) oh yes, I'm goin' to the

Hardware store

I'm goin' (yes I'm) goin', I'm a-goin' to the

Goin' to the (hard) ware I'm goin', really goin' to the

Goin' (hard) I'm goin' to the (hard) oh yes, I'm goin' to the

Hardware store

They've got allen wrenches, gerbil feeders, toilet seats, electric heaters

Trash compactors, juice extractor, shower rods and water meters

Walkie-talkies, copper wires safety goggles, radial tires

BB pellets, rubber mallets, fans and dehumidifiers

Picture hangers, paper cutters, waffle irons, window shutters

Paint removers, window louvres, masking tape and plastic gutters

Kitchen faucets, folding tables, weather stripping, jumper cables

Hooks and tackle, grout and spackle, power foggers, spoons and ladles

Pesticides for fumigation, high-performance lubrication

Metal roofing, water proofing, multi-purpose insulation

Air compressors, brass connectors, wrecking chisels, smoke detectors

Tire guages, hamster cages, thermostats and bug deflectors

Trailer hitch demagnetizers, automatic circumcisers

Tennis rackets, angle brackets, Duracells and Energizers

Soffit panels, circuit brakers, vacuum cleaners, coffee makers

Calculators, generators, matching salt and pepper shakers

I can't wait, (no I) I can't wait (oh when)

When are they gonna open the door?

I'm goin' (yes I'm) goin', I'm a-goin' to the

Goin' to the (hard) ware I'm goin', really goin' to the

Goin' (hard) I'm goin' to the (hard) oh yes, I'm goin' to the

Hardware store

I'm goin' (yes I'm) goin', I'm a-goin' to the

Goin' to the (hard) ware I'm goin', really goin' to the

Goin' (hard) I'm goin' to the (hard) oh yes, I'm goin' to the

Hardware store

I'm goin' (yes I'm) goin', I'm a-goin' to the

Goin' to the (hard) ware I'm goin', really goin' to the

Goin' (hard) I'm goin' to the (hard) oh yes, I'm goin' to the

Hardware store

Thank you that was the ENTIRETY of weird Al’s hardware store

me omw to the hardware store

[milfweirdal]

(sawing noises) (drill noises) (hammering noises) (wrenching noises) (funky ascending then descending guitar riff) Nothing ever (ever) happens in this town, feeling low down (down) not a lot to do around here, I thought that I would go right out of my mind until a friend told me THE NEWS. He said "(hey!) You know that vacant lot? Right beside the gas station? Well, somebody bought it and on the spot they're gonna build a shop where we can go buy bolts, AND SCREWS." Since then I've been walking on air (air), I can barely brush my teeth or comb my hair 'cause I'm so excited and I really don't care, I've been waiting since LAST JUNE for this day to finally arrive, I'm so happy (happy) now just to be alive 'cause any minute now I'm gonna be inside, well, I hope they oPEN SOON. I can't wait, no, I can't wait (oh when) When are they gonna open up that door? I'm goin' (yes I'm goin) I'mma goin' to the (hard) We're really goin' to the (really gonna) (hard) (going to the) goin' to the goin' to the, (hard) oh yes (hard) I'm goin' (TO) to the HARDWARE STOOOORE! (sawing noises) (drill noises) (hammering noises) (wrenching noises) (funky ascending guitar riff) (frenetic lead guitar) In my sleeping bag I camped out overnight right in front of the store, then as soon as it was light out I pressed my nose right up against the glass - you know I had to be first IN LINE. Gonna get me a flashlight and a broom, want a pair of pliers for every single room of my house, see those hacksaws? Very, very soon, one of them will be ALL MINE. Guys with nametags walking down the aisles, rows of garden hoses that go on for miles and miles, brand new socket wrenches in a plethora of styles, all arranged alphaBETICALLY. And they're doing a promotional stunt, there's a great big purple sign out front that says every 27th customer will get a ball peen HAMMER FREE! I can't wait, no, I can't wait (oh when) When are they gonna open up that door? I'm goin' (yes I'm goin) I'mma goin' to the (hard) We're really goin' to the (really gonna) (hard) (going to the) goin' to the goin' to the, (hard) oh yes (hard) I'm goin' (HARD) to the HARDWARE STOOOORE! I'm goin' (yes I'm goin) I'mma goin' to the (hard) We're really goin' to the (really gonna) (hard) (going to the) goin' to the goin' to the, (hard) oh yes (hard) I'm goin' (HARD) to the HARDWARE STOOOORE! (short instrumental interlude) (passionate sigh) would you look at all that stuff...? They've got allen wrenches gerbil feeders toilet seats electric heaters trash compactors juice extractor shower rods and water meters walkie-talkies copper wires safety goggles radial tires BB pellets rubber mallets fans and dehumidifiers picture hangers paper cutters waffle irons window shutters paint removers window louvres masking tape and plastic gutters kitchen faucets folding tables weather stripping jumper cables hooks and tackle grout and spackle power foggers spoons and ladles pesticides for fumigation high-performance lubrication metal roofing water proofing multi-purpose insulation air compressors brass connectors wrecking chisels smoke detectors tire gauges hamster cages thermostats and bug deflectors trailer hitch demagnetizers automatic circumcisers tennis rackets angle brackets Duracells and Energizers soffit panels circuit brakers vacuum cleaners coffee makers calculators generators matching salt and pepper shakers. I can't wait, no, I can't wait (oh when) When are they gonna open up that door? (really gonna) (hard) (going to the) goin' to the goin' to the, (hard) oh yes (hard) I'm goin' (HARD) to the HARDWARE STOOOORE! I'm goin' (yes I'm goin) I'mma goin' to the (hard) We're really goin' to the (really gonna) (hard) (going to the) goin' to the goin' to the, (hard) oh yes (hard) I'm goin' (HARD) to the HARDWARE STOOOORE! (angelic chorus) (really gonna) (hard) (going to the) goin' to the goin' to the, (hard) oh yes (hard) I'm goin' (HARD) to the HAAAAARDWARE STOOOOOOOORE (sawing noises) (drill noises) (hammering noises) (wrenching noises) (funky ascending guitar riff) (even more frenetic lead guitar)

[disney1965]

Tony and decided to have hot rubberized sex. We each stick our air hoses into each other's crotches and I lay on him and we both rock each other until we orgazim on each other's mask and lick them off. Tony is totally content when he cannot move after the drink I give him. I role on top and take his hose and block it off. He moans for a good 7 minutes and then his eyes go blank and he goes into convulsions. I then lick his limp rubberized body and face mask off.