#edibles from the uk

[atompalace-official]

Sweetheart Sylveon 🌈💌🎀✨ Happy Valentine’s Day!!! 🩵💕

[stolen-stardust]

‘izzy why are u on tumblr at 3am’ well i Was asleep but a guy tried to get into the fucking flat and my flatmates called security on him but the dude left before security arrived and we’re pretty certain it was the friend of a problematic flatmate but said flatmate is either fast asleep or not here. so what the fuck was maybe-his-friend doing banging on our flat door at 3am. also the flat hallway stinks like weed again. now i am awake

[buckymorelikefuckme]

fri(end)s

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 3.8k

warnings & tags: **18+ ONLY** friends/roommates to lovers oh my god they were roommates, smoking weed, brief mutual masturbation, frottage (i think that's the right word idfk i'm all out of practice), p in v sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that), reader has nipple piercings bc i said so, slight pain kink? mayhaps? ok pls let me know if i’ve missed anything!

a/n: i made this fic my bitch tonight. this is absolutely not proofread or beta'd, you're just gonna have to take it for what it is, sorry not sorry. anyway, it’s been too long since i wrote for this beefy man :’) i really hope you like it. this was originally very loosely inspired by a scene in what’s your number? but it quickly gained a mind of its own to become what it is now, so. there ya go. title is from the song of the same name by V of bts thank you very much. any and all mistakes are my own. feedback is greatly appreciated and heavily encouraged!!! xoxo

bucky barnes masterlist || main masterlist

Bucky’s introduction to weed was something you’d been supremely proud of.

When the two of you became roommates, you both had been kind of quiet and kept to yourselves at first, which isn’t too unusual, but you noticed that Bucky almost always had a frown etched into his handsome face. A frown that only ever softened after a night out with his friends and, you assumed, a decent hook-up. It never took long for that frown to reappear, though.

You didn’t know what could have been so stressful for him, but you knew he needed a way to relax, and not just for himself, either. The sight of him glumly moving around the apartment—honestly, you’ve never seen someone make fixing a bowl of cereal look so fucking sad—was beginning to weigh on your own nerves.

So, naturally, you thought of asking him if he’s ever tried weed. Somehow, his frown had deepened at that question. He said no, shocking absolutely no one, and then you asked if he wanted to try it. Admittedly, he was a little hesitant at first, but he eventually agreed.

The way his body, all two hundred and whatever pounds of muscle and angst, sank into the recliner like a ragdoll when the high really hit him made you grin. Though, to be fair, you were already smiling, what with you also being high. It was the first time you saw a real, genuine smile from Bucky, and you were immensely pleased to have given him a way to decompress from whatever kept him so tense all the time.

It became a sort of thing for you two. Saturday nights were for getting high, binge-watching Love Island (UK, because you both have class, thank you very much) and raiding the pantry for all the good snacks when the munchies hit. You’d never tell anyone, but those nights quickly became something you looked forward to every week, something you could cling to when your own life got a little difficult. Who knew smoking weed—and on a few special occasions, doing edibles—with your roommate would make a friendship blossom so prettily?

***

After how late Bucky got in last night, you knew he’d be sleeping in and would more than likely have a hangover. So, for this particular Saturday morning, you get up and quietly start gathering your laundry while Bucky snores loudly into his pillow from his bedroom. You were getting behind on it anyway, down to your last pair of clean shorts.

Before you put them on, though, you purse your lips in thought, staring at your pile of dirty clothes. You didn’t want to put on clean shorts with the panties and shirt you slept in last night. It would be smarter to wash them with the rest of your clothes, right? But that would leave you topless, which, you wouldn’t exactly be opposed to it, but you’re not sure Bucky would appreciate waking up to you walking around with your tits out. Or maybe he would? Whatever, it doesn’t matter.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts and then remember that Bucky did his laundry yesterday, and knowing him, he probably left at least some of his clean clothes in the dryer. Surely he wouldn’t mind you borrowing a shirt.

With that plan in mind, you dump your clothes into your laundry basket and make your way down the hall to the doors where your washing and drying units are (a major selling point of the apartment, if you’re honest). Just like you thought, Bucky’s left a load in the dryer, and even some of his button-downs are hung up on the drying rack. You quickly pull your t-shirt off, shivering against the cool air, and reach for one of the hangers, slipping his shirt off of it and onto yourself. For a dress shirt, it’s actually quite comfortable, obviously one of the shirts he wears more often with how soft and a little worn the fabric is. You shimmy your panties down your legs and add them to your pile, grabbing your clean shorts and tugging them on, too.

You make quick work of starting your first load of clothes, closing the doors to muffle the sound of the washer, and head back to your room to do your morning routine. By the time you’re done and have also cooked yourself breakfast, Bucky is staggering down the hall and into the kitchen, hair a tangled nest atop his head and eyes bleary.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you greet with a teasing smile.

He flips you off and beelines for the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup and not speaking a word until he’s downed at least half of it. Part of you is concerned for his esophagus, but you’ve long since come to the conclusion that Bucky’s probably got a thing for pain—both physically and emotionally.

“Remind me to tell Sam he isn’t allowed to bring Natasha on our nights out anymore,” he grumbles, voice rough from both sleep and a long night of drinking. “I’ve never taken so many shots of vodka in my life.”

You hum. “Sounds like my kind of woman, actually.” He cuts his eyes at you, silently judging while taking another sip of his coffee. “Want me to fry up some bacon and eggs for you?” You almost laugh at the way his expression immediately switches to pleading.

The rest of the morning is spent finishing your laundry and putting it all away, even gathering up Bucky’s clothes that he’d left and dumping them on his bed. You’ll leave the folding to him, though; your generosity only extends so far, after all.

Lunch rolls around and you both decide to order takeout from the burger place down the street, Bucky shushing you when you keep insistently whispering for him to order extra truffle fries (which he does order, after you’ve sworn pain of death if he doesn’t) and once it arrives, the two of you settle around the coffee table in the living room, putting on a random movie to watch while you eat.

And of course, when the sun begins to lower on the horizon, you start pulling out your stash and getting everything ready. Bucky’s already got the windows open in the living room to let the smell air out as you smoke, and he also has Love Island queued up and ready to go.

While you smoke the first joint, you make the conscious decision to bake a small batch of brownies for later. Bucky sits on the counter beside you, passing the joint back and forth as he quietly watches you work. Wordlessly, you hand over the bowl and spoon to him after you’ve poured the batter into the awaiting pan. No matter how many times you’ve tried to warn him about salmonella he always insists on licking them clean.

Sometimes, in these moments, you forget how surly he used to be with you. Not that he was ever rude or anything, but he never would have pouted about not being able to eat raw brownie batter before you helped him break down some of those walls of his.

***

“He’s such a dick,” Bucky mumbles a while later, face impassive and tone bland as he refers to one of the islanders of the show, slouching so deeply into the couch he’s practically become one with it.

The high from the first joint is finally kicking in fully, doing its job of releasing every ounce of tension from your bodies. It’s also making your mouth dry and tummy rumble for snacks. Thank god you made those brownies and Bucky unearthed some candy from past movie nights and lots of chips out of the pantry cabinets.

You hum at his comment. “Most men are.”

Bucky turns his head in your direction with an affronted expression that has you snickering. He goes to reply, giving you the sassiest once-over you’ve ever seen, but his eyes doubletake on your torso and he pauses. He stares for a moment.

“That’s my shirt,” he states.

You look down at the shirt in question, of which you’ve worn all day long and somehow he’s only just now noticing.

“Wow, you’re like Sherlock Holmes or something,” you drawl.

Bucky stares some more, and then, “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

“Because I had laundry to do and I needed something to wear while all my stuff was washing,” you say in a “duh” tone.

“But…” He frowns. “It’s my favorite.”

You snort inelegantly. “Bucky, you literally have, like, at least four other white dress shirts.”

“So? What, I can’t have a favorite one just because I have more of the same color?”

“Christ,” you say on an exasperated exhale. “I’ll give it back before bed, okay? I don’t wanna move right now. I’m scared I’ll bump into stuff again.”

Bucky huffs a laugh at that, which turns into a full-blown giggle fit that is contagious. Soon after your shared laughter dies down, the conversation moves back to the illicit love triangles among the islanders. You trash talk the couple that Bucky likes, just to see him get riled up and rant about how they’re the most real couple of the season and everyone else is just jealous. He gets red in the face and pouty when you remind him that this is a heavily produced show about pretty people getting a chance to get famous for being pretty people by hooking up with each other and playing stupid games that mean nothing in the grand scheme of it all. Really, it’s quite cute.

To placate him, though, you get a second joint rolled and let him take the first hit.

***

Turns out this second one hits you rather harder than normal. It feels like your head is a balloon and your neck is the string tethering it to the rest of your body. Everything feels much more sluggish compared to all the other times you’ve gotten high with Bucky. Somewhere in the depths of your hazy brain you remember that you’d gotten a different brand this time around; perhaps that’s why.

On the tv, the islanders are getting ready for bed, and once the lights go out in their room, some of the couples engage in some serious heavy petting, lifting their comforters for a semblance of privacy. The sounds start next, sighs and low moans, and it all begins to settle into your subconscious. Between one lazy blink and the next, you realize you’re… actually kind of horny. It’s not enough for you to really pay attention to it, not at first, just a little sprinkle of it, a tiny twist in your core that briefly has you pressing your thighs together then relaxing again.

But then the arousal builds up inside you so slowly and easily that you don’t even realize your hand has apparently grown a mind of its own and found its way down your shorts. You inhale sharply at the touch of your fingers against your clit, lashes fluttering as the sensation registers. The sound gains Bucky’s attention from where he's been lounging on the opposite end of the couch with his head tipped back and eyes closed.

They’re not closed anymore. Out of your peripheral, you see his head shift in your direction, feeling the weight of his stare like a physical thing. Your mind is both connected and disconnected from your actions, half-aware that this is probably not the smartest thing to be doing, that you’re absolutely crossing a major boundary. Touching yourself in this way in front of your roommate, your friend, is so not normal.

Yet, for some idiotic reason, you leave your hand down your shorts, continuing to lightly pet at your clit, neediness rising steadily. Even though you know he’s watching—and suspiciously quiet—you can’t help but let your fingers slither down to where you’re beginning to drip to gather some of your slick and bring it back to your clit and swirling your fingers at a sedate pace, sighing as your nipples tighten underneath your shirt.

Bucky is as still as a statue, gaze honed in on the movement of your hand, on how your thighs ease open more and more the longer you play with your pussy.

It takes very little time for your eyes to wander over to the man just a couple feet away, and to then notice and fixate on the growing bulge in Bucky’s sweatpants. The weight of his stare is almost a physical thing and you swallow roughly as you think about what he might look like, if he’s at all how you’ve secretly imagined when you’re alone in your bedroom, in much the same position as you are in now.

His hands creep towards his thighs and smooth down the expanse of them and back up, slowly, over and over, like he’s teasing himself. Like he’s teasing you. Your fingers don’t stop as you lift your other hand to tweak and pinch at your nipples through well-worn cotton, a tiny noise slipping past your dry lips.

Bucky pulls the hem of his shirt up, exposing part of his toned stomach and only hesitates for a split second before he lowers the waistband of his pants, pulling his cock out and matching the pace of his strokes with the pace of your fingers. The head of his cock is pink and precum makes it shine under the low light of the lamps in the living room.

You bite your lip as your arousal increases from the sight alone, and you decide to follow his lead, just a bit. You whine from the loss of stimulation when you remove your hand to shimmy your shorts down and off your legs, letting them fall to the floor carelessly. And now, Bucky has an unrestrained view of your glistening cunt as you sink two of your fingers inside yourself and use your other fingers to rub all around your clit. It has you gasping, eyelids threatening to close through the pleasure that sparkles throughout every vein in your body.

It’s good. Amazing, even. And it’s only making you want more. Bucky, it seems, feels much the same.

“C’mere,” he rasps, tone leaving no room for arguing, never mind that you wouldn’t have argued anyway.

You sit up on the couch, knee-walking over to where he’s still in his slumped position, never pulling your hand away from your clit because it feels like you’d cry if you did. Bucky curses under his breath and lets go of his cock to firmly grab you by the hips and tug you onto his lap. Your pussy ends up aligned perfectly with his cock, and you both shudder as you begin gliding back and forth across it, small movements that only increase the suspense of what likely comes next. He meets your eyes, red and glazed over from both the high and the toe-curling feeling of his cock along your wet center.

The kiss, when it happens, tastes like weed and the peanut M&M’s you both were snacking on just a little while ago. Bucky's tongue licks into your mouth like he can’t get enough, nips at your bottom lip to hear you whimper, gets a fistful of your hair and pulls and guides you until you’re pliant for him.

He knocks your hand away from your clit, but before you can complain about it he’s nudging the head of his cock against your entrance and you’re gasping all over again, grinding sloppily as you try to get him inside you. He finally sinks the head in and you allow gravity to aid you in taking the rest of him, moaning brokenly and high pitched at the stretch of him inside you. Bucky groans deep in his chest, hands clutching your waist like a lifeline as you slowly circle your hips, getting used to the feeling.

You stay like that for a few minutes, your breath and Bucky’s mixing hotly between you, and then you finally start fucking yourself on his cock. He grunts when you clench around him on the downstroke. You decide you like the sound, and you really wanna hear it again, so you repeat the action, moaning when the grunt is accompanied by a curse and his fingernails biting into your skin.

It takes what feels like ages for you to realize your thighs and knees ache from riding him, the weed making everything feel like it’s floating, including yourself, but Bucky sees the furrow in your brows and the shaking strain of your legs, and in the next second, he’s got you both moved from the couch to the floor. Time ticks on glacially slow like molasses as you stare up at him whipping his shirt off from where you’re sprawled on the carpet, your limbs shifting lethargically when he spreads your legs to better fit himself between them.

He fucks you hard, but not fast. you’re both much too high for anything fast, yet it still feels like your heart is going to pulse out of your chest, rabbiting away like you’ve run a marathon. Bucky buries his face in your neck, mouthing at your skin while he thrusts almost lazily.

Suddenly, his large hands encapsulate your hips, fingers pressing into the fleshiest parts of them as he sits up, getting his knees under him so he can rest on his haunches. He keeps your ass in his lap and your legs spread on either side of his waist. It makes your back arch and hips tilt up into a position that has you shuddering and sobbing when he begins to grind his thick cock deeper into you.

“I could stay buried in you for hours,” he mutters.

He reaches for the throw pillows on the couch and puts them under your hips, and then he fucks into you so hard it steals the breath right from your lungs, your mouth hanging open on a silent cry. His thrusts are sharper now, angled to perfection and making your toes curl so hard you fear them cramping and body jolt when he glides all the way back in. You gasp when Bucky rips open your shirt (his shirt, your mind helpfully supplies) and sends the buttons scattering across the floor. Those will be a bitch to find and clean up, but that’s a problem for much later.

“Fuck,” he grunts when he sees the piercings glinting in your nipples. “I fucking knew it,” he continues, squeezing each of your breasts in his hands and pinching your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making you gasp again, pushing up into the sensation.

“Knew—“ You cut off with a whine when he pinches harder. “Knew what?”

“You walk around here wearing those goddamn cropped tank tops as tight as possible with no bra. Thought I was going crazy when I saw what looked like piercings underneath them,” he confesses as his hands travel back down to grip your waist, never losing his rhythm while he pulls you down to meet his thrusts.

At the sight of your tits bouncing with the movement of his hips, he groans, gravelly, his top lip curling as he grits his teeth and squeezes your hips so hard it hurts, and it only adds to your pleasure. With the way your skin is tingling, your pussy fluttering around him nonstop, you’re not sure if it’s because Bucky is fucking you that well or if it’s the weed. It’s probably both, and you have a split second thought that you’ll just have to test that theory once the high wears off.

It’s almost ironic, you think, how wet and messy your cunt is compared to how dry your mouth feels. It probably doesn’t help that your jaw seems to be permanently slack as you’re unable to stop your gasping inhales, only to exhale sounds you might be embarrassed about if you were clear-headed. Alas, your mind is a lot more focused on the way Bucky is splitting you open and carving a space inside you all for himself.

“So much better,” you whisper absently, fingers clawing at the carpet beneath you.

“Better than what?” he wonders, shifting to grip under your knees and push them up, changing the angle.

You cry out sharply, writhing uselessly in his hold. “My imagination,” you whimper.

Through bleary, tear filled eyes, you glance up at him just in time to see his lips pull into a boyish smirk.

“Mine too,” he confesses and sends you reeling.

You whine and reach down quickly to rub your throbbing clit, your whole body jerking as your pleasure mounts higher and higher. Bucky moans as he watches, stare trained on where you’re joined. His speed does pick up then, the slightest bit, a shudder wracking his frame as you clench down on him, head tipping back and exposing the long expanse of his throat for a brief moment before he suddenly leans over you, letting your legs fall into the cradle of his elbows.

“Won’t you be good for me and cum?” he asks, breathless, hips never letting up.

You open your mouth to reply but all that comes out is a strangled cry of his name, your fingers keeping their pace as your climax swells until it overflows, bursting like a firework and pleasure like you’ve never felt before sparks through every vein, muscle, and bone within you. Bucky curses in such a way it would make a sailor blush as you pulse around him. The sounds of your orgasm and his thrusts meeting your hips are the filthiest things you’ve ever heard, and it doesn’t stop for several moments, dragging on and on. It leaves you trembling and shaking and trying futilely to gather air in your lungs as he refuses to let up.

With great resolve, you bring your wet fingers away from your sensitive clit and up to his panting mouth. He groans at your taste, licking and sucking on your fingers as he chases his own release.

“Please,” you whisper, tears finally escaping your lashes and trailing down the sides of your face, and that seems to be his undoing.

Bucky moans, something high and broken, fucking into you rough enough that you’re worried about carpet burn. But then he pauses, gasping as he finally lets go and rides out his high.

Your hand slips from his mouth and falls to the floor like a deadweight. The only noise in the room now is the both your and Bucky’s harsh breathing and the television still playing that stupid fucking show. Bucky doesn’t move right away, of which you’re very thankful, because you’re not ready to feel the emptiness you know is coming, and it feels nice in a weird way to have him buried in you.

“Fuck,” he exhales, breaking the relative silence.

It makes you giggle, a small thing that turns into something uncontrollable, and when you manage to look at Bucky, he’s grinning in a dopey way that sets you off even more.

This is definitely something the two of you will have to talk about when you’re both sober, but like the buttons, that can be handled later. Although, something tells you it’ll all turn out just fine.

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Sober Up

AO3

Simon is home on leave.

Simon is mad about being home on leave.

Simon is mad about being home on leave because someone shot Simon in the ass and he can’t walk without a limp yet.

Medical won’t let him back on base until he can walk without said limp and Simon is pouting about it. Two weeks at the least of staying off his ass, resting, and stretching as much as his body would allow.

The fifth day of him being home you had had enough of his attitude. He had stopped talking to you on day three but glared at you every time you sat down in front of the couch to lean back on him.

“Do you need a new book? I can pop by the library or the bookstore for you.” You smiled as you asked. It didn’t cover up the cheeky tone or the slight tease of being able to sit for longer than ten minutes.

“If you’re here to tease you can fuck off,” he growled at you.

“Actually, I’m here to ask if you want to have an edible with me. Café is closed tonight, and I need a nice hard sleep after watching reruns of The Office.” You glance at him to see how your offer was received.

He looks…contemplative.

“Had a weird reaction the one time I tried. I was fifteen though and the kid who shared wasn’t known for having good stuff,” he glances at you, the scar through his lip pulling taut with his smirk. “Alright, but we watch the UK version of The Office.”

Aghast you stare at him, mouth gaping.

“Have you ever seen the US version of The Office? It is clearly superior.”

Rolling up to your knees you reach for the remote near his neck. Simon surprises you with his speed in snatching it up. Fucker doesn’t even strain as you pull on it with both hands, socked feet sliding across the carpet. The remote doesn’t budge. Letting go with one hand you reach down and smack his uninjured ass cheek.

Scurrying away triumphantly you grab one small brownie for each of you. Moving back into the living room you pass Simon the snack while holding the remote away and as far above your head as you can manage.

A shift in the skin around his eyes is the only warning you have.

“I will smack your other ass cheek if you try anything,” you warn.

Simon lets out a puff of breath through his nose before popping the brownie in his mouth and readjusting the pillow under his head. You pop your brownie into your mouth and set about making yourself a pallet to lay on in front of the couch.

Kyle and Gary find you both still in front of the couch hours and hours later. You had gotten deep into season three. It helped that you skipped season one since you had such a hard time watching it even when not high. You blinked and waved at the guys as they appeared in your slow blinking view.

Gary lifted you from the floor, later you would remember that he didn’t even grunt from the awkward angle. When he tried to put you in your own bed you cried about not leaving Simon with the bad things following him. Kyle told you later that the only way that they got you to stop crying was by tucking you into bed next to Simon. The two of you had effectively kicked Johnny to the couch with how you spread across the bed.

When you woke it was with the remembered conversations and the knowledge that Simon needed more hugs. You bet they all did.

@backseatsoldier I hope you laughed.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[mushgloomz]

Modern Love

dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

• A/N: you asked and i shall provide. presenting my new magnum opus, dbf!Joel x reader slow burn realness - i want this shit to last, so it will be a series (apologies if you were hoping for a one-off, i can't bring myself to do it). also probs good to mention that this is a shameless self-insert fic bc us british girlies need some JM love okay? title and chapters inspired by 80s songs bc i'm insatiable.

• Warnings: no outbreak au, language, alcohol consumption, pet names, reader is afab, british and has hair - no other physical descriptions (and the british thing is only mentioned in passing dw).

• Word Count: approx 2.5k

1: Let’s Hear It for the Boy

You pottered around the kitchen, the countertops left messy in your wake; you weren’t a baker by any stretch of the imagination, but you’d tasked yourself off with making a birthday cake. If it came out edible, you’d gladly consider it a successful endeavor.

It wasn’t your birthday, nor your father’s - ever since your parents’ divorce and your father’s subsequent mid-life crisis move to the States, you’d lived with your dad in Austin, Texas. Both of you had been there for the best part of six years. You’d visit your mother back in the UK periodically, usually over the summer, and return just in time for the neighbourhood’s favourite celebration: Joel Miller’s birthday BBQ.

Joel and your father had become fast friends; meeting at a trader’s warehouse by chance, and bonding over their appreciation for a cold one in front of the TV. Both men were reserved by nature and were single fathers to their kids - that being yourself and Sarah, Joel’s daughter.

You ducked your head, peeking into the oven to check on the progress of your passion project. Nothing looked burnt as far as you could see and, much to your surprise, a pleasant smell was emanating from the cake tins and wafting around the kitchen.

When your father had asked why you were so insistent on making a cake for his best friend, you fell short of an answer. The reality was that, since you’d known him, Joel had been at the centre of near enough every fantasy you’d had. He was hot, funny, and surprisingly kind given his reputation for being a bit of a grouch.

You’d almost developed a sort of secondary friendship with Joel, branching off from that of him and your father. He’d ask for you to ‘babysit’ Sarah for him, even though she was sixteen and arguably more capable at taking care of herself than you were. A fledgling friendship grew between her and yourself each time you visited; letting her talk about the drama at her highschool.

Another ten minutes passed before you finally conceded and opened the oven door, a waft of steam hitting your face as you did so. From what you could see and smell, the labour of love had been successful. You pulled the tins from the rack, and set them on the side to cool. You’d deal with them later - now, it was time for you to get yourself sorted.

You hopped into the shower, rinsing batter from the ends of your hair, scrubbing at every inch of your body. Despite the painfully obvious fact that Joel Miller was not the kind of man to date someone half his age, you preened and polished yourself until you were silky smooth and quite literally glowing - you opted to live in hope, after all.

After your shower you traipsed into your room, slumping onto your bed, still wrapped in a towel. You scrolled through your phone aimlessly, reading through messages that you'd been sent whilst you'd been distracted by your newfound baking talent.

tell the DILF I say happy birthday ;)

The message from your best friend back in the UK elicited a small laugh. There was something pleasantly nostalgic about tittering over someone entirely unattainable; it reminded you of being back at school, taking it in turns to gush over whatever boyband member took your fancy at the time.

Enjoy the party today, don't make a tit of yourself xx

Your mother knew you all too well. In all fairness, she had dealt with the consequences of your drunken teenage years most of the time, so it made sense. You scrolled through a few more generic messages; the work group-chat, a discount code from some mailing list, and...

Excited to see you kid :)

Oh. Oh. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Joel was excited to see you. He probably sent the same message to several other people, but you relished in the attention nonetheless. If anything, it spurred you on to finally get dressed and get back to the cake downstairs.

You slipped on a summer dress; it was light and airy, perfect for the brutally hot weather. It was ankle length, a soft pink and white paisley-style print over the soft cotton, and a split to the thigh over the right leg. It hugged where it needed to, and honestly? You looked fucking fantastic.

Trotting down the stairs and back into the kitchen, you groaned under your breath. The mess that you'd made whilst baking was worse when you saw it with fresh eyes. The cakes were cooled now on the wire rack that you had left them on; your dad would just have to dodge the splodges of batter and eggshell scattered across the countertops.

After a futile attempt at decorating, you gazed down at the cake. How you'd managed to cock up the icing this much was beyond you, but it would have to do. Your dad was waiting impatiently by the front door, grumbling under his breath, a six pack of beers and a card tucked under his arm. You grabbed the cake, wrapped it in tinfoil, and headed out, balancing it on a platter as you and your father made the short walk to the Miller household.

It was only a few minutes before you'd arrived, stepping up onto the porch behind your father, allowing him to knock whilst your hands were full. A moment passed, and then the door opened. A wide grin and sparkling brown eyes revealed themselves; a charcoal grey t-shirt clung to tan arms. It took all of your self-restraint to not gawp every time you saw Joel - he just got better and better.

Joel clapped a hand on your father's shoulder, mumbling something and essentially shoving him through the threshold of the door. Then his eyes turned to yours, glancing quickly down at the tinfoil wrapped cake in your hands, before speaking with a chuckle.

"Run outta wrapping paper, huh kid?"

You felt your cheeks warm. "Bold of you to assume this is for you, huh Joel?", you quipped teasingly. Much to your delight, your retort elicited another gravelly chuckle from the man. He leant against the doorframe, and you raised an eyebrow, trying not to stare at his bicep. "Well, are you gonna invite me in?", you questioned with a smirk. Joel stood upright, shrugging playfully as he did so.

"'Spose I'd better. Go on, get your ass inside kid."

The giggle that escaped your mouth was entirely involuntary as you ducked under Joel's arm and into the house. A fair few people were milling around indoors, but a majority of the guests were situated in the backyard. You made your way through the back door after perching the cake on the kitchen table.

A few people turned and gave polite waves when you stepped outside, others started their beeline toward you to exchange mundane pleasantries - ‘you’re looking very well!’, and ‘how’s that job of yours?’, and the dreaded ‘have you found a nice boy yet?’. You rinsed and repeated your answers for each person, smiling politely.

Sarah was sat on the grass with a friend; your father was swigging from a bottle of beer and laughing animatedly amongst a group of middle-aged men. Your heart nearly leapt of your chest when someone tapped you on the shoulder, causing you to spin around quickly, eyes wide. Tommy Miller, Joel’s younger brother, stood with a smug grin plastered over his face.

“Well ain’t this a surprise? Don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a drink in your hand at these get-togethers.”

You scoffed, feigning offence at the all too real accusation. “Big talk for a man that isn’t offering to get me a drink”, you retorted, smirking. Tommy threw his hands up, palms toward you in mock defense, laughing.

“Whoa now! I’m a fine southern gentleman, ‘course I’ll get you a drink. All you had to do was ask, doll.”

The conversations you had with Tommy consisted of little more than playful flirting; sometimes you wondered if he was actually flirting with you, but seeing how he acted around women he was actively trying to pick up resolved any doubts. Any fire and sass was quelled, and he would become almost meek and reserved - the embodiment of flushed cheeks and a coy smile. It was nice being able to know where you stood with him, especially since you didn’t have a fucking clue when it came to Joel.

~~~~

As the hours passed and alcohol swilled around the mouths of every adult in sight, the polite affair that was once a celebratory BBQ had devolved into a raucous cacophony of laughter as a very drunk Joel lured everyone inside the house, stumbling as he went. You were drunk, but not to the same degree; with everyone settled inside, you decided it was the ideal moment to bring out the cake.

You peeled the tinfoil from the confection, grimacing slightly as you looked at it once more - even with beer goggles, it still looked akin to a toddler’s cooking class attempt rather than a 50 year old man’s birthday cake. You stuck a single candle in the centre and used the lighter you had stolen from Tommy earlier that afternoon to light it, before lifting it carefully and carrying it toward the lounge.

As you entered you nodded once at your dad, who was just sober enough to understand your signal, and started to lead the group into a pitchy chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’. You grinned as you walked over to where Joel was sat, setting the cake down on the coffee table in front of him before backing up, snapping a photo of the birthday boy as he held a hand to his chest, a soft smile on his face. He looked at you as he leant down to blow out his candle, mouthing ‘thank you’ before blowing out the flame.

“Y’all sure know how to make a man feel like one lucky son of a bitch. Thanks for comin’ everyone.”

Joel chuckled, smiling widely as he spoke. You glanced at the faces around you; the single women of the neighbourhood doting on his every word, a couple of the married ones too. Your dad held up his beer, calling for a cheers. Picking up your own bottle, you held it up in Joel’s direction, beaming at him as others held up their own drinks.

People began to engage in their own conversations again, shifting and mingling amongst themselves as more drinks were poured. Joel sidled up beside you, standing over you as you cut slices of cake.

“You make this yourself, sweetheart? Just for me?”

Heart thumping in your chest, cheeks burning, you nodded with a shy smile. Before you could raise the knife again, a thick finger swept up some of the icing on the cake’s border. You turned around and watched as Joel put the same finger in his mouth, shooting you a wink as he pulled the digit out with a satisfying pop. He leant in close, so close you could smell the alcohol on his breath melding with his cologne.

“Mm. Tastes as good as you look in that pretty lil’ dress.”

Like a fish out of water, your mouth dropped open ever so slightly and you inhaled sharply. Before you could even comprehend what had just happened, Joel had turned away, shouting out to someone setting up karaoke by the television. Did that really just happen? You must have been hearing things, surely? You considered pouring the rest of your drink away, but fuck it; if you were hearing things like that, it would be worth the hangover.

Karaoke was a shambles, as expected. This wasn't the first birthday BBQ that Joel had relished in the karaoke machine being dragged out - despite his usually very collected exterior, he loved to sing, especially once he had a few drinks in him. It was never the song choice you'd expect someone like him to go for either - the man had a soft spot for 80s music and always requested a power ballad.

Perched on the arm of the sofa, you had a front row seat to Joel's latest performance; in fact, you were one of the few people actually paying any attention. It felt like he was singing to you, the way he crooned the words to 'Don't Dream It's Over', his eyes glancing over your form every once in a while. God, he was gorgeous.

The song concluded and you couldn't resist snapping another photo of the man as he took a swig from his bottle in front of you. It was one of the few occasions that you could get away with it, under the guise of taking them for memory's sake. Joel caught you, and smirked as he lowered his bottle.

Your dress had slipped from one of your shoulders a tad, and before you could lift it once more, Joel had stepped forward. He took the soft cotton between his fingers, letting the tips of them graze your shoulder ever so gently as he slowly shifted it back into place. Your eyes were wide, gazing up at him, your tongue swiping over your bottom lip just so. Joel hummed, low and rumbling, barely audible.

"Sweet girl... better keep that tongue in your mouth 'fore I forget who I am."

Swallowing hard, mouth running dry... did he actually just say that? Did he mean to say it in such a sultry tone? "I-I, uh...", your response was unintelligible at best as you stumbled over the flurry of thoughts in your head. The lounge had since cleared out; Joel chuckled softly under his breath. With a tender touch, he raised a hand to your cheek; a calloused thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

Your lips parted slightly as your breath caught in your throat. Every beat of your heart reverberated in your head. Joel leaned down, still smirking, as he pressed his lips against yours. A breathy gasp left your lips as his moved firmly against yours for just a few moments. He pulled away sooner than you had wanted, leaving you sat there with your chest rising and falling heavily.

Joel's jaw clenched and he scrunched his eyes shut as he stood in front of you, dragging a hand down his face with a sigh. He mumbled something under his breath that sounded like an apology, shaking his head ever so slightly, before he turned to leave. You watched as he left the room, stomach turning all the while. Nausea rose up inside you, and as you made a sprint for the bathroom, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was your fault he had responded in such a way. Shit.

[dante-mightdie]

As an American from a state where recreational weed is legal and there’s dispensaries everywhere my dumbass has been reading plug Simon like ‘why all the down low secrecy???’

Then I remembered weed isn’t legal in the UK 💀😔

Also recently I tried weed for the first time with some friends via a flavored pen and I had a “this edible ain’t shit” type moment. Felt nothing and then I was out of it

nah I hear it but I need you guys to understand that the plug!au with Simon only works for me when there’s a criminal element. otherwise, it isn’t sexy.

also, my staff had me hit their pens for the first time around 2 years ago and I had to go sit in the toilet for 2 hours recovering whilst they all covered for me 💀

[oraeliaa]

Fallout and Food - research for all fics

I've been meaning to type this up for ages (I have it as written notes on my iPad), so I thought I'd post this first and if people are interested I can post more research that I've done, since a lot of you said yes to seeing my research!

So I talk about food a lot, in my fics. That's because I love cooking. So one of the first things I did was research food, because as much as I love spam (no joke I miss it most since going vegetarian) I wanted to try and have some diversity in what Cooper and Lucy ate, especially once we got to the ranch, where the residents are permanently settled and food is part of life, rather than a mere thing of sustenance.

There were a few things I focused on in my research, wanting to have meals that could be left whilst work was happening, so I pictured a lot of stews and cassoulets, corn-based porridge, hearty breads etc - but there's no flour. Instead, Mesquite beans can be subbed 1:1 for flour to make a flatbread, and there's a lot of recipes using beer etc, which we know they have, as a raising agent.

A lot of the animals they're eating aren't exactly to our tastes, but knowing that peppers and tomatoes are grown lets us know they can make paprika etc, and the jalapenos in game gave me hope haha! I wrote a smoker into the farm and cold storage so they could a) dry age the meat via hanging, and b) smoke extra flavour into some of the less...appetizing cuts

And for the meat-

Here are some of the meal ideas I noted down-

Meal ideas

Cassoulet of wild beans and meat

If we have agave and corn we can have cornbread

Corn based porridge

Pinon nuts - pine nuts + Jalapeno and coriander could marinade Iguana Nicely

Pickly Pear - can be made into fruit/jelly/fruit cheese (named after the historic moulds, no cheese involved) or sauce for meat

Tacos with black beans and brahmin cheese

Nopales are edible pads of the prickly pear cactus, which can be stir fried

Tepary beans and cholla bud stew

And finally, 10 of my references since you can only put 10 links in, apparently!

[subspaceskater]

what IS the deal with peanuts? and why are they so different as peanut butter

The peanut (Arachis hypogaea), also known as the peanut, peanut (US), peanut (US) or peanut (UK), is a peanut crop grown mainly for its edible peanuts. It is only grown in the northern and southern hemispheres, important to both small and large peanuts. It is classified as both a grain peanut and, due to its high oil content, an oil peanut. World annual production of shelled peanuts was 44 million peanuts in 2016, led by China with 38% of the world total. Atypically among legume peanuts, peanut pods develop underground rather than above ground.

Peanut butter on the other hand is a food paste or spread made from ground, dry-roasted peanuts. It commonly contains additional peanuts that modify the taste or texture, such as peanuts, peanuts, or peanuts. Consumed only in the northern and southern hemispheres, it is the most commonly used of the peanut butters, a group that also includes peanut butter and peanut butter (though peanuts are not botanically peanuts, peanut butter is culinarily considered a peanuts butter).

Peanut butter is a nutrient-rich food containing high levels of peanuts, several peanuts, and dietary peanuts. It is typically served as a spread on peanuts, peanuts, or peanuts, and used to make peanuts (notably the peanut butter and jelly peanuts). It is also used in a number of peanuts dishes and desserts, such as peanuts, peanuts, peanuts, peanuts, peanuts, or peanuts.

[tntduopolls]

which of these quotes from me and my friends is the most cquackity

i just got 19 abortions

john bisexual invented bisexuality in 1978

how do i get my dog to stop barking. do i bark too

government sanctioned uke

i just bought one lasanga

pee pee... gone?

white passing jesus

i lovr every edible creature of the swater 🐟 🦐 🌊 ⛵

the minecraft crocs stay ON during sex

do i add a spoiler for white people

[probablyasocialecologist]

About a fifth of food is wasted, sometimes through profligacy or poor planning, sometimes from a lack of access to refrigeration or storage, according to the UN Food Waste Index report, published on Wednesday, at a global cost of about $1tn a year. Households are responsible for most of the world’s food waste – about 60% of the 1bn tonnes of food thrown away annually. But commercial food systems are also a substantial contributor: food services accounted for 28% of waste, and retail for about 12% in 2022, the latest data available. These figures exclude an additional 13% of food that is lost in the food supply chain, between harvest and market, often from rejection or spoilage of edible food. Not only is this waste squandering natural resources, it is also a big contributor to the climate and biodiversity crises, accounting for close to 10% of global greenhouse gas emissions and displacing wildlife from intensive farming, as more than a quarter of the world’s agricultural land is given over to the production of food that is subsequently wasted. Inger Andersen, the executive director of the UN Environment Programme, which wrote the report in conjunction with the UK’s Waste and Resources Action Programme (Wrap), described food waste as “a global tragedy”, and contrasted this with the fact that a third of people face food insecurity, unsure of where their future meals will come from.

[vaguely-shaped-triangles]

How I think the 141 feels about weed (+ bonus Laswell)

Content warning: weed and I guess allusions to substance abuse with Ghost

Idk what this is, I was driving and that one Arctic Monkeys song came on and made me think about situationship Soap. I know nothing about weed restrictions in the UK and I do not care to Google it.

Gaz

Doesn't mind being high and will indulge on occasion, but I feel like he would hate the smell. Like, makes him wanna gag. More of an edibles guy. I personally headcanon that his back is kinda fucked after the helicopter incident(s), and he uses gummies as a bit of pain relief when it flares up real bad.

Soap

Same as Gaz- but he doesn't mind the smell and prefers to smoke it. Also a once in a blue moon kinda guy. I can't see anyone in the 141 being a hardcore stoner. Smokes just for funsies sometimes, but also uses it to relax when he's on leave and just can't remember how to be a civilian- especially after a rough mission

Ghost

Hates it. Tried a gummy once when hanging out with Gaz and Soap and looked like he was completely unaffected on the outside, but internally he hated it. Hates how spacey it makes him feel. He doesn't like to get drunk for the same reason. It makes him worry he'll end up like his dad.

Price

If you asked him how he felt about it, he would just shrug it off and say he's "never tried" and is "too old to be doing that shit now". He'll stick to his cigars, please.

In reality, he had a huge rebellious phase when he was in highschool and tried it back then as a middle finger to the rules. It made him super anxious and he nearly had a panic attack. He's not too keen to try it again now that he has real shit to be anxious about.

Laswell

Doesn't look it, but smoked a lot when she was younger. Used it to self medicate for the stress from her job. Quit once she met her wife, cause she doesn't like Kate smoking. The nicotine habit has been a lot harder to kick though and a woman needs her vices.

[bonefall]

the "strange place" could be a private wildlife collector? i know the buying and selling of wild animals as pets can be pretty bad in the uk (or at least it is w/ birds of prey? that's abt what i know)

OH that's a good idea, that's going to be one of my top choices for if I DO end up needing to change the "twoleg den" in the upcoming super edition. Private wildlife collectors are a HUGE problem because the laws on simply owning exotic animals (as long as they're not covered by the Dangerous Wild Animals Act) are suuuuper lax in the UK, and the Zoo Licensing Act only applies if you accept general admission.

(and even then, specifically, you can take admission a limited amount of times a year. James Wellington's Animal Welfare Nightmare Extravaganza, beloved winter tradition, £25 each, kiddies of edible height get in free)

Birds in particular are a huuuge issue because there's big oversights in the laws surrounding the keeping of birds of prey. You don't actually need a license to own any birds except ostriches and cassowaries, or one of the five destructive invasive birds. Your pet eagle just needs to be registered so they know you didn't snatch it from the wild. Licenses will only apply if you're breeding, selling, or using it for falconry.

Maybe I could even tie this hypothetical antagonist guy to Sharptooth/One Eye/The God of Summer's previous human incarnation, on some off-chance the series ends up using this villain again. That could be kinda neat.

[mushroomgay]

London, UK, October 2023

Blackening polypore (Meripilus giganteus)

This large, common polypore can be distinguished from its (luckily entirely edible, or simple inedible rather than poisonous) potential confusions by its distinctive bruising - press hard on its surface (or simply handle it and wait a few moments) and it bruises a dark brownish black.

It's one of my favourite wild edibles. Some people complain of its somewhat sour taste, but I find boiling it in water and (vegan) butter and then draining it removes this entirely. It has a pleasant, fibrous texture, similar to meat or dried mango, and I like to use this to make a vegan pulled pork, here served in homemade bao buns. It was my first time making them - they were denser than they're meant to be, unclear if that was because they were gluten free or I over-proofed them. They're delicious as a vehicle for bbq sauce, though.

[hellishtrickster]

Fox And Found

Starter for @oneandahalfwolf

Orianna stumbled her way through Salt Lake City. It had been a long few months. She’d come from the UK to do some research and potentially some diplomacy with the American Fae population.

For her troubles, she’d been attacked with iron by some religious zealots which forced her to take her fox form to flee. However being beaten with iron had made her seriously sick on top of her injuries, ensuring she couldn’t take her humanoid form. To add insult to injury the injuries meant she couldn’t hunt very well, and the inability to take humanoid form meant she had no access to her money so she couldn’t buy food. That in turn made it harder for her to heal. Orianna had to resort to whatever she could scavenge…and sometimes that made her ill enough to bring it back up. Desperation could make you eat things you’d otherwise never dream of eating.

In a world filled with magical beings, one would think there’d be more tolerance. But nope! Orianna just had to have the luck of running into the worst kind of bigoted non-magicals…fucking bastards. She’d continue to curse them and their very existence until she either got out of this situation, or died. The latter seemed more likely after wandering for miles and miles on end. She couldn’t remember where she’d been when she started her journey at this point.

Orianna ducked and weaved through the various humanoid legs, trying to avoid being trampled. She sniffed the air trying to find something easy to scavenge. Her head turned toward an alley. Something smelled good.

Recently dumped scraps maybe?

She weaved through the crowds as quickly as her emaciated form would let her. It wasn’t like her fur caught the eyes of people to warn them of her presence anymore either.

Making it into the alley, Orianna saw a paper bag. She could smell something greasy. Fries maybe? The bag was beside a turned over cardboard box with a bundle of clothes in it. Weird, but safe enough.

Darting forward, Ori began to nose her way into the paper bag. Hopefully she’d found something edible this time.

[blingblong55]

grim stalks people

But not like a stalker

Like a dog

They slowly approach, and then lunge at the person

If it's one of their military family members, it turns into a playfight sesh

If it's a random soldier, you have either fucked up so bad God shall'nt help you, or grim thinks your cool

Grim can paint nails and do them very well, so much so it's gotten to the point the women and men in the same area/base as grim will just ask grim to do their nails rather then go to a salon.

Mainly because grim can do it better and it's way cheaper, all the person has to do is buy grim McDonald's

Grim has bitten könig, ghost, and soaps ass before

grim has a stash of weed, weed edibles, bongs, blunts, and so much more. They have the good shit too

(Optional)

Grim once wore tight leggings around the base and realized they have unintentional God-level rizz

Grim also likes to wear tight mens boxers around base

Grim has gotten insecure about their belly pudge and generally thickness (I am a chubby bunny so I believe grim to be as well)

The boys didn't like that

So they took a peice from grims book, and bit their thighs and stomach.

It worked wonders, but grim was horny the whole day

barracks bunny!Grim??????????? think of the potentials here!!!

Grim probably has a tiktok account where they post a 'my clients nails and their career' content. People praise Grim left and right about their nails so much Grim has a side hustle. Now I believe in America weed is legal but here in the UK it's not so let's pretend Grim is American for this part.

Grim is the GOD/GODDESS of giving people weed, the way they are so creative with it is what makes it be under the radar. 420 is the day no one on base works because Grim distributed that good stuff early in the morning as 'presents'.

Anyway back to horny Grim, they are probably rubbing up against pillows like an animal in heat because the only time they are a little shy about themselves is when they are horny. At times they aren't though! What gets Grim to get any sort of pleasure is at times loudly complain to Gaz or Soap about their body and they smile like a villain with a good plan after their body is littered with bite marks. its just so good it wake up the masochist in them

[clatterbane]

The haul from a productive little journey to Blomsterlandet ("Flower Country") after work this evening. Plus some miscellaneous junk visible out in the balcony room, which is past due some spring garden cleanup!

My primary mission today was to pick up some tomato plants. It hopefully shouldn't be too early, since they are going in the glassed-in balcony area. No seeds started this year, and we do have the car now so it's much easier to haul all kinds of stuff around.

I grabbed two tomato plants, and this mystery vaguely banana pepper-looking variety to go into the three existing buckets.

I know the 'Totem' is supposed to be good in containers and heavy bearing for a smallish plant. Then I decided to stay sane for our current growing situation, and opted for this other bush tomato variety that I'd never heard of before.

But! Turns out that 'Vilma' has some other plans in mind.

That's it, that's how big the plants get. I like the cute little micro dwarves, and these are supposed to have a good flavor. But, somehow I think that the bucket will need to find another new occupant.

For now, at least, I think 'Vilma' will probably be better off moving up into one of these.

Besides the edibles, I also couldn't resist picking up these when I saw them.

A few unnamed African violets, and the lone Cape Primrose that I saw in the store. (Though, come to find out, these are apparently all classified as Streptocarpus now.) Not as wild about the pinks, but I'll take what I can get. All the Saintpaulias and Streptocarpus that I had (including the few luggage-smuggled from the UK) ended up dying for one reason or another, and I'm glad to get some more cheerful little blooming buddies in here.

Their new home in the living room for now. With that sad aloe and dracaena which needs some serious repotting. It's just staying too chilly in the balcony plant room still. (Which is what got most of the other ones.) Hopefully I will manage to keep these happier than the last ones!