#not the gross crunchy ones

[musewrangler]

So it begins

[robo-dino-puppy]

horizon forbidden west | aloy 139/?

[beauzos]

Ordering Chinese expecting it to slap extremely hard only for it to be mid breaks my heart every time. Chinese is supposed to be a TREAT

[feralsteddie]

For the "send me a character and i’ll list:" post... Eddie Munson 💕

>:)

favorite thing about them he's just a pathetic little guy who can somehow body a jock

least favorite thing about them the dead part

favorite line i will be basic and say the "Harrington's got her. Dontcha, big boy?" because holy fruit

brOTP i know she's dead but the Chrissy and Eddie friendship would have been EPIC

OTP Steddie, clearly

nOTP m*ngrove 😐

random headcanon Eddie absolutely doles out stick-and-pokes to whoever is willing to pay and won't snitch (tattoos were illegal in Indiana until 1997)

unpopular opinion the frizz in his hair is part of the aesthetic, that's a hairspray special and i'm tired of pretending it's not

song i associate with them Fade To Black by Metallica if we're going with a good canon-era song, but if it's not then Happy Song by BMTH gives me such Eddie vibes

favorite picture of them

the lighting designer popped the fuck OFF with this one

[maretriarch]

watching mukbangs feeling like miss trunchbull in the chocolate cake scene

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

yall i just spent. so fucking long on a sketch for a body horror wolfwood . prepare yourselves

[crookshanks23]

Season 1, Episode 20: Silent, but Dadly

Favorite moment: Henry's natural 20 fart

General thoughts:

Oh wow. I had totally forgotten about this intro with the purple robes. It's great to have a little side moment with the purple robes and then Lark or Sparrow coming in with the Dragon Ball reference. Beautiful. Lark and Sparrow chaos is my favorite.

I forgot that this was the part when Glenn traded away the guitar and Ron signed it so they could get the Deck. Man, the signature thing pays off in almost 40 episodes. Crazy. I love the way that they've been able to weave fun improv moments into integral moments of the show.

This is the first episode on my re-listen that has made me laugh out loud. Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoy the earlier episodes too, but all the back and forth silly arguing got me loling on this one.

And... it all ends with Henry's beautiful fart and the reveal of the Library.

Next time... Combat

[thatonefatgumsimp]

:OOO

I don't think I've ever actually properly drawn my red panda scar so. here he is!

bonus alt version:

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

My cat one hour after his lunch, yelling at me: mother I am hungry I am starving how dare you let your child go hungry 😾 I am but a poor victorian street urchin and you have left me out to die

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You felt exhausted and unappealing at the start of your third trimester, but according to your husband, you were still perfect. Just as you solve one problem for your friend, you inadvertently cause another one for yourself.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, Bradley eating pussy, swearing, angst, pregnancy

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

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

As nice as your second trimester had been, as soon as it ended, you were exhausted all the time. And you were once again starting to feel nauseous every morning. Maybe your mom was right and you needed to eat more than random foods dipped in hot sauce sporadically all day long. Your belly was also starting to change from a cute bump to a tender, oversized monster. When you mentioned it to Bradley, he scoffed. 

"Don't call my Nugget a monster."

"I'm not talking about the baby!" you said as you started to get dressed for work in your maternity tent, gesturing at your body. "But there's a lot going on here."

"Yeah," Bradley grunted as he pulled a clean flight suit from the closet, eyeing you up and down. "There sure is. You look fantastic."

"I feel tired. And gross," you told him as you got dressed.

"That's just the hideous uniform talking. You didn't feel gross last night when we were snuggling. And you certainly didn't look gross."

You wanted to agree with him, but you were in a bad mood. The attic still wasn't finished even though your contractor, Bradley Ross, was at your house so frequently, it felt like he had moved in. And your parents would be here in four days. And your house still wasn't decorated for the holiday. And the only gifts you managed to buy were matching pink tropical shirts for Bradley and the baby to wear next summer. 

Your husband zipped up his flight suit and made his way around the bed to where you were standing. "Would you feel better if I picked up dinner on my way home so you don't have to cook?"

"Probably," you muttered, trying not to smile.

He kissed your forehead and gave you his most innocent looking gaze as his fingers grazed your belly. "And after that, I'll eat your pussy until my jaw locks up and you're in tears from too many orgasms?"

You had to press your lips together for a few seconds before you could say, "Please."

"Then it's a date, Baby Girl," he said before kissing you on the lips, leaving you to chase him for another feel of his rough mustache before you let him leave for his early flight time. "I love you and the Nugget!" he called from the hallway.

"We love you, too!"

Five minutes after he left, you were still getting ready for work. In fact, when your doorbell rang and Tramp went running through the living room, you were still buttoning your tent shirt. "I'm coming," you called out, already knowing it was your contractor. When you pulled the door open, your shirt was buttoned mostly correctly, and you told him, "I'm just about to head out."

"Okay," he replied, taking you in before you stepped aside for him. It didn't matter what your husband said, you were a bit of a hot mess right now. And that reminded you that you needed a little bit of hot sauce before you left for work.

"Do you need anything from me?" you asked Bradley Ross, and his gaze dipped down to your horrible uniform.

"Not at all," he replied, turning toward the stairs. "Enjoy your day."

You parted ways and headed for the kitchen, and you realized your shirt was even worse than you anticipated. You had to unbutton and rebutton the whole thing while your bread was in the toaster. When it came out nice and crunchy, you dipped it into a dish of hot sauce and ate it in four bites.

"It's so fucking good," you moaned at Tramp before scooping him some breakfast. "No hot sauce for you. Just for the human baby," you told him, holding your hand near your belly button as Rose started doing her somersaults. "You're up late this morning," you told her, deciding you better stop in the bathroom one more time before you even attempted the short drive to work with her bouncing on your bladder.

As soon as you were done and walked back through your bedroom, you eyed your bed longingly. "No," you told it, turning away from temptation and walking out to your red Bronco in the driveway. You backed out past the other Bradley's truck and drove to base.

You were already hungry again by the time you got there. When you turned the corner to your office, you found Maria standing next to your door. "Are you waiting for me?" you asked, and her gaze snapped up to yours. "I'm surprised you're here this early with Bob blowing your back out twenty-four hours a day." Tears filled her eyes instantly, and you rushed toward her. "Oh my god, Maria, what's wrong?"

She let you pull her into an awkward hug with your belly in the way, and she sobbed instead of responding with words, so you let her cry. She had been preoccupied at brunch with you and Cam, but she definitely hadn't been like this at all. If anything, she'd seemed like she was lost in a dream world with her French toast the other day.

She sniffed and managed to whisper, "Bob's being deployed for some special mission. He just texted me. He's leaving the day after Christmas."

"Oh," you gasped, rubbing her back as she cried. This would be the first time her boyfriend was deployed since they started hooking up a few months ago. They would be fine. You knew they would. But you recalled all too easily what it was like when Bradley was gone when you and he were first dating. It made you feel sick to recall the feelings of self doubt and uncertainty, especially now that your daughter would be arriving in three months.

You were about to tell Maria that Bob's deployment would feel terrible but wouldn't last forever when she said, "I have to break up with him."

"Pardon?" you asked, completely thrown by what she said. "I thought you were in love with him."

"I am," she cried as you finally unlocked your door with her clinging to you and managed to get her inside. "But I can't tell him that now. We've been taking things a little slower after taking things really fast right after he moved in."

You were trying your best to piece everything together, but it just wasn't all fitting in your mind. "That's good," you said gently. "So why would you have to dump him? You love him, and he'd be coming back to you and the apartment when he gets home?"

She looked at you and shook her head. "I can't expect him to go months and months without having sex. We do it like at least once a day," she whispered as tears flowed down her cheeks. "Maybe he'd agree to take a break? I don't know. But I can't get upset when he wants to hook up with someone else on the aircraft carrier."

You felt like your eyes were going to bug out. "Maria, I really don't think you should be hasty here."

She just shrugged in your arms before pulling away from you and wiping at her tears. "You're so lucky you have Bradley." She left you standing there, unsure what to say.

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

All of the holiday decorations had Bradley a little stressed out. Some of his neighbors had lights on the palm trees in their yards, and there was even a tree inside the guard house. He could remember very little about his dad, but Bradley could remember everything his mom did until he died. For the life of him, the one thing that escaped him was how she made even the most basic things feel magical.

She must have done it effortlessly, because he never took the time to look behind the proverbial curtain to see how it was done. There were always presents under their little Christmas tree even though he realized after she was gone that it must have been a struggle. And now Bradley wasn't sure how he was going to do the same when it all just seemed so stressful.

He snorted as he made his way across the tarmac to the tower. All you said you wanted for Christmas was a babymoon trip and a million orgasms. But you could have asked him for either of those on any day, and he would have given them to you. He needed to find something else for you, too.

"Are you having a baby shower?"

Bradley looked up to find his best friend was looking at him as soon as he walked into the rec room to get a drink. "Good morning to you, too," he said, reaching past her into the refrigerator. 

"You need to have one, okay?" she said. "Your wife will like it."

Bradley felt a little more anxious, because he was going to have to admit he was clueless when it came to this topic as well. "Isn't that something her mom should do?"

Nat rolled her eyes. "That's a lot for her mom to handle when she lives on the other side of the country."

He cleared his throat. "Well, what do you even know about baby showers?"

"More than you," she said easily. "Which is why I'll take care of it."

Bradley sighed in relief. "You're not going to give me a hard time about this?"

"Of course not. When have I ever done that sort of thing?"

"Literally since the first time I met you," he muttered as she walked away. But he knew he had nothing to worry about; Nat would make sure you had exactly what you wanted or needed in any scenario.

A minute later, when he got called out to the tarmac, he found his best friend wrapping Bob up in a hug. While he wasn't invited into the conversation, he could hear the dreaded word 'deployment' as he walked past on his way to his jet, leaving him to assume Bob got a notification this morning. Poor Bob, but at least it wasn't him for once.

When he took to the air, Bradley immediately felt a bit calmer. He would figure out how to take care of everything with you by his side. He would make things special for Rosie in his own way. He could share all the things with her that he loved about his mom.

But the thing that calmed Bradley down most of all was arriving in the cafeteria for lunch in time to see you. "Sweetheart!" he called out, cutting in front of Jake and Javy to get to you faster. You had a burrito bowl in one hand and a bunch of little packets of hot sauce in the other, and you still looked cute in your tent uniform. Your face lit up when you saw him, and even though he reeked of jet fuel, you let him give you a hug.

"Do you know where Bob is?" you asked after you kissed him on the cheek. "He and I need to have a conversation."

Bradley ran his hand along your belly, hoping to feel a little thump from the Nugget. "I think he's been notified about a deployment," Bradley muttered.

"I know he has," you replied with strong annoyance in your tone. "Oh, there he is," you said, looking past Bradley. "Excuse me, Roo." You kissed him and added, "I love you, but I need to take care of this. I'll see you at home later when you're going down on me?"

Bradley nearly choked as he muttered, "Okay," while Jake and Javy clearly tried to hide their surprised and amused laughter.

You hurried off in Bob's direction as Javy said, "Nobody better try to call Rooster tonight."

"Silence your cell phone," Jake said, clapping Bradley on the back while he blushed. "Eat your lunch but save room for dinner."

"Fuck," Bradley grumbled, walking away from them as they laughed. Just for that, he'd make sure he was on his A game at home. He'd also have to remind you that your voice tends to carry when you're annoyed.

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

You set your lunch down across from Bob at one of the small tables with only two seats. He smiled as you slid into the chair opposite him, and he greeted you by name. Then he cleared his throat and asked, "You're not sitting with Bradley today?"

You followed his gaze to where your husband was sitting with Nat and Mickey. "Nope. I wanted to sit with you."

"Okay," he replied, still smiling. "But I'm actually waiting for Maria?"

"She's not coming."

His smile started to fade. "She's not?"

"She's not," you confirmed. "She told me you're getting deployed soon." When he nodded, you asked, "Do you like having a girlfriend?"

His smile was back. "I like having Maria as my girlfriend."

You were shaking your head as you started emptying packet after packet of green hot sauce onto your lunch. "And are you planning on sleeping around while you're gone?"

"No." His voice sounded hoarse, and his face went pale.

"Glad to hear that," you told him as you rammed your fork into your burrito bowl.

"Why would you think I'd want to do that?" he asked, leaning a little closer to you, his brow creased in concern.

"I'm not the one thinking it. You better ask yourself why Maria might think you'd want to do that."

Bob's eyes went wide even as he blushed bright pink. "I don't know... I thought she knew how happy I am. I told her she makes me crazy... I said... I s-said I want to go at it all the time now. I've never been with someone like her." You shoved a bite of food into your mouth and chewed it up while he processed his words. "Wait... does she think I'm like obsessed with getting laid? Because I'm certain I'm just obsessed with her."

You nodded as you swallowed, proud of him for piecing it together so quickly. "Seems that way. You have about a week to put in some legwork if you don't want her to break up with you." In an instant, you were left with Bob's abandoned tray as your only lunch companion, and when he didn't return, you ate his breadsticks and baked pasta.

This was turning out to be the longest day imaginable, and when you finally climbed into your Bronco to head home, you were yawning. Then when you pulled into the driveway, not only was your Bradley not home yet, the other Bradley was still working. You grumbled as you made your way inside, where he was hammering something upstairs; you couldn't even start taking your horrible uniform off in the living room after you opted to wear it home today to get here faster.

When you let Tramp out of the laundry room and sent him to the backyard, you were fighting the urge to take your shirt off and walk through the house topless with every fiber of your being. You made it to your bedroom before tearing it from your body along with your uniform pants. You eyed the bed. You were tired enough to get in and stay there, but you wanted your reward for making it through the day.

"Takeout and head," you whispered, nodding in the mirror with a grin. You turned from side to side, examining your belly and your breasts. Rose was moving a lot today, so much so that you almost noticed it more when she took a break. And your boobs did look pretty nice. You took your bra off and added it to the laundry pile, and that's when your husband walked in.

"I brought pizza, Sweetheart," he said before his lips parted in soft surprise. "You trying to get started without me?" he groaned, reaching for his belt.

You bit your lip, and shook your head. "Do you think we should wait until the other Bradley leaves?" you asked, earning a devilish smirk from your husband.

"Didn't stop us last week when we had sex in the laundry room while he was working. And it didn't stop you from sucking my cock while he was here the week before." You squeaked as he smacked you on the butt and whispered, "You promised me I could have your pussy the second I got home."

"Did I?" you asked, climbing onto the bed, and he was right there with you, hovering over your body as you stretched out. When he nodded, you said, "Then I guess it's all yours, Roo."

But that wasn't even where he stopped first, and you shouldn't have been surprised. His lips met the valley between your very perky breasts while he unzipped his pants. Then you watched him rut gently into the bed as he licked and sucked on you. He had some particular fascination with your chest right now, and he was almost reverent in the way he touched you. 

The sounds of hammering and soft music playing from upstairs were really doing it for you. Getting nasty while you weren't quite alone was always enough to get you going, but on top of that, your husband was so turned on by your weird pregnant body. You felt like a queen as he plucked at one nipple and then the other with his lips, leaving your skin damp to the cool air. Your nipples were furled into tight peaks as he whimpered your name. 

"I can't get enough," he murmured, letting his mustache scrape along your sensitive skin. Your hips bucked from the bed as he let his teeth graze your nipple. "Where do you want my mouth?" he asked, meeting your eyes even as his tongue darted out to trace the undersides of your breasts.

"On my pussy," you gasped.

"I can't hear you."

"On my pussy!" you cried out, and he smiled that wicked smile again.

"Now everyone knows," he growled, leaning on his forearms and treating you to the flex of his biceps as he pushed your thighs apart and settled in.

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

Bradley had one perfect tit in each hand and his face buried in your soaking pussy. Each time he thought you were getting close, he lazily kissed along your dainty rooster tattoo and up to your belly. Once he even paused to say hello to his daughter while you dug your heel into his back and begged him incoherently to put his mouth back on your clit. And he did so with a smile. 

Was he rock hard? Yes. Would he love to cum right now? Absolutely. Was he enjoying every second of the way your body felt and tasted? Definitely. Could he wait until he got you off to let himself unload? For sure.

Your tits were getting bigger and more enticing by the day. And your swollen belly was clearly all his doing. He was grinding his cock into the bed as he slid his hands down to your thighs, spreading you a little wider as he licked all around both of your holes until you were whining his name.

"Fuck," he grunted. Bradley Ross had just turned off his radio. That meant he was getting ready to head out for the day, which also meant the hammering had stopped. You were getting loud as hell as Bradley pressed his nose to your clit and lapped up your wetness. He was only concerned for a split second about your volume before he decided to just carry on. It wasn't like the contractor hadn't seen how hot you were with his own two eyes. Nobody could blame a man for getting at his own wife as much as possible, especially one with massive, pregnant tits and the prettiest face imaginable.

"Roo!" you moaned when he wrapped his lips around your clit. "Let me come, Daddy."

You were tired. He could hear it in your voice. The bedding was a little damp from the mess you and he were making, and his jaw truly was starting to ache. When you released the bedding with your left hand, Bradley could see the sparkle of your engagement ring before you dragged your fingers through his hair. 

Okay, now he needed to get off pretty badly, so he slipped two fingers inside you, and as soon as he did, you came. "Damn," he grunted against your clit before circling you with his flat tongue as you rode his hand and yanked his hair. You were riding him as he pushed on the back of your thigh until he couldn't take it any longer.

He barked out your name as he got to his knees and thrust his cock inside your overstimulated pussy as you were coming down from your orgasm, and that just made you come for him a little more as you shook your head back and forth on the pillow. One more deep thrust, and he came too, with his hands on your tits and sweat dripping down the back of his neck.

When you opened your eyes, you had the most serene look on your face. Bradley kissed the tip of your nose as he pulled his cock free and grunted. "You know, the guys heard your little pussy eating comment at lunch today."

"Oops," you giggled, running your fingers softly over your tits as he stood up and started fixing his clothing. 

"I got roasted for it all afternoon." But he was all smiles, because he really wouldn't have it any other way. "Come out and get some cold pizza when you're ready. I'm going to see how it's coming along upstairs."

You just nodded, and Bradley took one more look at the messy creampie he gave you before vanishing out into the hallway and closing the door behind him. The Craftsman smelled like sawdust and fresh paint, and he was really hoping the project would be completed in the next few days so your parents could sleep up there during their stay. Otherwise he might have to gag you during sexual activities, and he was only half joking in his mind.

Bradley Ross was carrying a paint can and some rollers down the stairs, heading right for the front door. "Have a good night," he called out, barely pausing to get through the door. Perhaps he'd heard your beautiful chorus of moaning. Didn't matter, but Bradley had hoped to ask him how much longer he thought the project would be. Instead he climbed the stairs to investigate for himself.

It looked incredible, and it seemed like a lot had been accomplished today. Two bedrooms of identical size were both primed and ready for paint. The hardwood flooring looked perfect, and the new windows were letting so much natural light in. The bathroom wasn't large, but it did have a tub and a single sink vanity, and the tiles you picked out looked pretty.

He shut all the lights off and headed back down to the kitchen where you were wearing a pair of his underwear with a maternity tank top, dunking a slice of pizza in some hot sauce. "How's it looking?" you asked. He knew you were talking about the attic, but he couldn't help himself as he grabbed a slice from the box.

"It's looking sexy and pregnant and like it just had an orgasm." You burst into laughter as he added, "The project upstairs looks good, too."

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

Later that week, you got a vague text from Bradley letting you know that he'd be late getting home from work. You were expecting maybe he'd be home around six or seven, just in time to help you wrap the presents you ordered for your parents, but he didn't get home until almost eight, long after Bradley Ross left for the day. 

He was quiet and looked contemplative when he walked in. "Hi," you called out from where you were sitting on the couch, and he finally met your gaze. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He made his way over to you. "Mav just wanted to chat. Is there any pizza left?"

He kissed you before heading to the kitchen, and you stared after him. "Of course there's no pizza left. I'm pregnant. And are you being weird on purpose? Why are you three hours late getting home?"

You watched as he started to pour a bowl of cereal in silence, and you weren't sure if he was even listening to you. When you made your way into the kitchen, he finally said, "There's a potential job opportunity. Remember when I filled in for a few days here and there as an instructor?" When you nodded he took a bite of cereal before continuing. "Mav seems to think I could do more of that type of shit."

Your eyes went wide at the prospect of fewer deployments for him. "That might be a good opportunity," you told him, still unsure exactly where he stood on the topic.

He just shrugged and said, "It's certainly something to think about, Sweetheart. Wouldn't really be happening until a few months from now, but I'm going to keep the conversation going with Mav."

It was then that you realized he looked exhausted. "Want to take a shower with me? I could wash your hair."

Your husband moaned softly and set his empty bowl in the sink. "Hell yes. Absolutely."

Within three minutes, you had your hands coated in shampoo, and you were working them through his thick hair while he felt around your belly, hoping to feel the baby kick. "I feel like I barely got to spend any time with her this week," he whispered with a pout. "Where's my Nugget?"

You felt her give a little thump, as if she knew he was right there waiting for her. You quickly placed his hand a little higher, and he sighed in contentment. "Hey, Rose. Daddy's tired. Can we all snuggle in bed soon?" She seemed to squirm in response. "Your grandparents are coming to visit tomorrow."

"And the attic conversion should be done tomorrow, too," you told him. "That's what the other Bradley said when he was leaving today."

"Amazing. Merry Christmas to us."

You practically tucked him into bed as soon as he was dried off, but he kept reaching for you to join him. "I need to let Tramp out. I'll be right back." You walked through the kitchen and past the refrigerator which was covered in ultrasound photos. Then you straightened up a little bit while Tramp ran around the yard. By the time you got back to the bedroom, Bradley had fallen asleep with the Nugget Notebook open on his chest and a pen in his hand. You took a peek to see what he had written.

Hey, Rosie. It's almost Christmas. I'm not really good at celebrating holidays, but your mom is. Her parents are, too. I'm hoping I'll kind of figure this whole thing out once you get here. I'm thinking you'll make everything more fresh and fun for your old man. We can get better at things together.

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

You were more than ready for a few days off. When you left work on December twenty-first, you reminded Cat that you planned on dropping off some gifts for Jeremiah over the weekend. When you got to the parking garage, you saw Maria and Bob making out next to his truck. He had her hands pinned above her head, and she was all smiles. You felt immediately better.

You knew the plan for the evening, and so did Bradley. Your parents were landing in San Diego at 6:15, and you assured them that you'd be there to pick them up. When you got home from work, Bradley Ross was finishing some details upstairs, and you were delighted by what you saw when you went to have a look.

"It's perfect," you gushed, looking around the space. The one bedroom was almost ready for your mom and dad. Someone would just need to make the bed later. The bathroom was shiny and bright and lovely, ready to be used. The second bedroom still had some wet paint, but you planned on just closing that door for a few days. "Let me write you a check for the balance," you told your contractor when he was about ready to leave. "I'll meet you in the kitchen."

After you wrote out the check, you waited for both Bradleys while you dipped some grapes in hot sauce. It was almost time to leave for the airport, and you still needed to change out of your uniform tent. You undid the top few buttons and played with your necklace charms, and as soon as Bradley Ross walked downstairs with the rest of his supplies, you rushed his way.

"Here's what we owe you. Thanks again for squeezing us into your schedule so close to the holidays."

"I hope you are happy with the outcome for many years to come," he told you with a smile.

"It looks so good, I'll definitely refer my friends to you for any projects in the future."

"Thank you, Mrs. Bradshaw."

You didn't bother correcting him when he didn't use your hyphenated last name, because as soon as he walked outside, you had your shirt off and you were rushing toward your bedroom. But as soon as you passed your mirror on your bra on the way to the closet, you paused and smiled. Your husband would love a little treat in his text messages; it had been ages since you sent him something dirty.

You snapped a photo of your boobs as they were hugged by the black lace. Then you took your bra off, covering your nipples with your hand and forearm before snapping another. Then you removed your arm and took one last picture of your breasts complete with tightly furled nipples. You expected that your husband would run into the house begging for a quickie before heading to the airport. The thought of his flushed cheeks and raspy voice made you giggle as you attached the photos and texted them away.

His hyperfixation was so fun for you right now, and you started to wonder if he was going to be as excited by your boobs after the baby was born. Would he be interested in the breastfeeding process?

"Hey, Baby Girl."

You turned toward the doorway as you straightened your sports bra and pulled an oversized shirt on. "Hi," you said, trying to play coy, but just grinning wildly instead.

"You ready to go get your mom and dad?"

"Yeah... almost. You looked down at his gym shorts where you could see the outline of his phone in his pocket. You pouted a bit when you had to ask, "Did you like the photos I texted to you?"

His brow furrowed as he patted his pocket. "What photos?"

You sighed. "The ones I sent like five minutes ago."

You watched as he unlocked his phone and started to shake his head. "I don't have any messages from you since lunchtime. What was it?"

"Thee pictures of my massive tits," you told him as you reached for his phone. But when you checked, they definitely weren't there. "Maybe I didn't tap send?" you murmured picking your phone up from the bed.

Bradley's arms wrapped around you from behind, and you could hear the smile in his voice when he whispered, "Can't wait to see them for myself." But you froze and tried to shake him off as your stomach lurched.

"Oh no. No no no no no!"

"What's wrong, Sweetheart?"

You handed him your phone and covered your eyes as you started to panic. Apparently you hadn't tapped on Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3 in your contacts. After you started typing his name, you must have accidentally selected Bradley Ross as the recipient. "Bradley! I sent them to the other Bradley!"

His eyes bugged out as he saw the photos in the message for himself. "You sent our contractor pictures of your tits!"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" you shrieked. "They were for you! What are we supposed to do now?!"

He pocketed both phones, heaved a deep, exhausted sigh and muttered, "I'm going to have nothing but fucking gray hair after this, I swear to god." Then he rushed from the room and you followed him long enough to watch him grab his keys and run out to his Bronco.

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

Checking in with Maria and Bob was dramatic. Like damn. At least BG got to eat his lunch. And now we have the great Bradley mix-up to contend with. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

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@desert-fern

@horseslovers2016

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@marve2014

@furiousladyking

[banj0possum]

Hey it's me, the one who gave you those crunchy incorrect quotes, I'll be giving you more as time goes on as you seem to like them, if you don't mind id like to be known as Gummy Worm on your blog (if not that's cool too)

Y/N: Slap competition! *Gently slaps Dorik*

Dorik dramatically falling on the floor and panting sexually: More

Y/N looking absolutely terrified: no you win

Adrian: What are you doing?

Y/N: Smelling a rose

Adrian: Hah, lame

Adrian under breath: I wish I was that rose

Y/N: What?

Adrian: I SAID YOU'RE GROSS

Y/N and Jasper in a car: Jinx you owe me a-

Y/N: -Coke!

Jasper: -Kiss on the lips

Y/N:

Jasper:

Y/N: *frantically tries to open door*

Axel leaning in: We're over at your place baby, we can do anything you want

Y/N: Have you ever played Minecraft?

Axel: What?

Y/N: yeah man I have all these cool mods and I even have this cool T-Rex I've been building. Do you wanna see?

Axel: shit yeah I wanna see

Bo watching Y/N and the rest of the horde goof off: Look at those idiots

Bo: I can't believe I'd die for them

*ugly crying* thes ethese are golden

[angeldreamsoffanfic]

content warning: this took SUCH a turn to dom eddie munson wanting to make steve harrington just absolutely one, turn his brain off, and two- realize that his interests aren’t stupid. like it’s not… necessarily explicit on here but when this gets a bit more fleshed out… it’s gonna have to be posted on ao3 😂

-

The thing is, Steve Harrington knows hair- okay?

And he also knows that his friends completely like to tease him about it, that they think that most of the time his affinity for it is a bit narcissistic. That he shouldn’t spend as much time as he does on it and he should “let go sometimes”, but he can’t.

He can remember watching his mother years ago in the bathroom mirror teach him how to style his hair, with little spritzes of water and a just a few puffs of sweet smelling hairspray. He can fully and thoroughly recall flipping through magazines when he was younger, back when his parents had started to travel, and taking beauty tips from the pages in regards to detangling. He’d spent three days with a knot at the nape of his neck, after a few days of swim practice, and he had too much pride at the time to ask anyone for help.

But anyway, Steve Harrington knows hair- and it’s not that he thinks other people don’t… but he also knows that some people don’t care as much as he does. And that’s why watching Eddie Munson take a brush to his curls (completely dry which is painful in it of itself) is absolutely heartbreaking in the weirdest way possible.

Steve also is completely and totally aware that his face must be doing… something, because Eddie has turned around to fully face him- instead of glaring daggers at his own reflection.

“What, Harrington?”

Steve shook his head quickly, fingers drumming against his thighs as he diverted his attention to the tv again. He hadn’t had a television in his room before actually, had figured it’d be a bit too much of a distraction from trying to sleep. Steve is sure there’s some study about the light too, a study Robin had rambled to him before.

That’d been before Vecna though, before the year 1986 and all of it’s horrors that it brought along to the town Hawkins once again. In Steve’s mind? A small tv and a couple of VHS tapes was probably the least of his worries after surviving everything. The tv itself had some poorly made horror movie on, something Eddie had brought along from his government provided home, while the two waited on Robin and Nancy to make their way over.

“Stevie?” Eddie had moved closer, brows slightly furrowed as his dark eyes widened. “What’s on your mind, man? Not getting like…” Eddie mimed wiggling his fingers at the side of his own head, and Steve couldn’t hold back the laugh that made it’s way out from his throat. “Okay so Vecna is not getting his creepy hands on you… so what’s up then?”

Steve took a moment and shrugged, before he let himself card a wide-splayed hand through his own hair. The hairspray was just ever so slightly crunchy under his fingers, and Steve huffed as he shrugged again.

“It’s so stupid man, like don’t even worry about it.” Steve flapped a hand in Eddie’s direction, and Eddie was quick to click his tongue against the back of his teeth as he moved closer.

“Nuh uh, big boy.” Eddie eased himself onto the foot of the bed, and Steve forced himself to not scrunch his nose as Eddie’s dry curls swished a bit around his shoulders. “C’mon I can see it in your eyes! Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell m-”

Steve cut Eddie off with a press of a flat palm up against Eddie’s lips, and Steve tried to not think about how soft Eddie was up against Steve’s skin. Steve groaned as Eddie’s tongue swiped against his flesh, and Steve hissed as he reared backward away from the older teen.

“Fucking gross dude!”

“Usually I’m the one doing that, big boy!”

Steve and Eddie both spoke up at the same time, and the two eyed each other warily, before they split into soft laughs between the two. Eddie then shifted further up onto the bed, back pressed up against the footboard, before he knocked his leg against Steve’s.

“C’mon dude, what’s up?”

“Your hair!” Steve finally answered, before he then folded his arms over his chest. “I know it’s stupid, but watching you tear a brush through it dry is actually breaking my heart, Munson.” Steve groaned, and ran a hand over his face before he continued. “And I know it’s stupid and everyone always says it’s stupid of me to care about hair so much-”

“It’s not stupid.” Eddie’s firm tone cut Steve off, and Steve glanced back toward the man through his lashes. Eddie’s jaw is set, firm and unyielding, and Eddie let out a dry laugh. “Fuck man, what has everyone in your life done to you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re… fuck sweetheart, you’re allowed to enjoy things.” Eddie’s voice has gone saccharine sweet, soft and gooey- and the tone has an immediate effect on Steve, making his brain feel all fuzzy and soft. “So, what has everyone in your life done to you?”

Steve doesn’t answer and instead just shrugged again, and it draws a quick intake of breath from Eddie- before the man has pushed himself up and off of Steve’s bed. He’s quick and methodical in his movements, scraping his curls up and off of his neck into a low bun at his nape. Eddie then pulled his boots back on, before he checked his pockets for a moment, and then proceeded to nod to himself. Eddie then extended a hand out to Steve, and wiggled his fingers with a small grin on his face.

“C’mon then, dude. We need to go to the store.”

Steve let his hand meet Eddie’s, and is quick to ignore the flutter in his stomach at the touch. His hands, Eddie’s, are larger than his but the fingers skinnier and calloused from what Steve knows to be years of guitar playing. That, and Eddie now has a pretty decent job at the local mechanic shop, and Steve knows that Eddie enjoys the job. Knows that Eddie likes working with his hands, and Steve tried to ignore the idea of Eddie getting those hands on Steve—

“Stevie?” Eddie snapped his fingers in front of Steve’s eyes, and Steve shook himself out of his revere. Steve sent Eddie a nervous smile, and he tried to ignore the flush of heat he can feel under his cheeks at the soft coo that Eddie let out. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” Steve bobbed his head in a quick nod, even when Eddie hummed before he moved as to grab the pair of Nikes that Steve had on earlier in the day. “Where are we uh, headed?”

“You and I-” Eddie moved back to Steve, and he curled a hand around Steve’s right ankle before he pulled- which caused Steve to unsteadily rock back, before he clamped a firm hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I gotcha don’t ya worry baby-” Eddie murmured, soft and saccharine again, before he continued on as if Steve’s heart isn’t about to beat out of his chest. Eddie worked Steve’s Nike onto his foot, methodical in tying the laces tight, double-knotted just like Steve does. “You and me are gonna make our way out to Anderson for the afternoon.”

“But why?”

Eddie just sighed, soft and slow at Steve’s softly asked question, before he grabbed at Steve’s left foot, and set about slipping the other shoe onto it. Eddie took a moment, made sure to tie the laces of the shoe tight, before he stood back up so he could peer down slightly at Steve. Steve doesn’t move as Eddie pinched Steve’s chin soft in between his thumb and pointer, before Eddie slightly shook Steve’s face from side to side.

It’s enough that something in Steve just burns.

“Because Anderson has a nice and big hair supply shop in it, and we’re gonna go spend a little bit of government hush money there.” Eddie cooed, his voice soul-achingly sweet again, and Steve forced himself to swallow down the saliva that had been quick to pool in his mouth at Eddie’s tone. “And then when we’re done, I’ll drive us back here and you can do anything you want to my hair.”

“Anything?” Steve croaked, eyes wide as he kept his eyes on Eddie’s from under his lashes. Eddie’s smile is gleaming, and Eddie hummed quietly as he nodded himself.

“Absolutely anything, sweet thing.”

Steve Harrington knows hair, and he knows that.

And he also knows that his friends completely like to tease him about it, well, it’s seems like except for Eddie. So Steve let himself smile and nod, and he reveled in the way that Eddie grinned- a quick flash of teeth as he pinched a little firmer at the meat of Steve’s chin, before he let go.

“Atta boy.”

-

just a little sacrifice to the tumblr readmore gods

[robertdowneyjjr]

tiramistake

for @meidui

—

“Hey babe,” Steve greets as he exits the elevator and finds Tony splayed across the couch in the common room. He beelines towards his boyfriend as Clint follows him out with a plastic bag in hand.

“Got you dessert,” Clint says, placing the bag on the coffee table. “Your favorite.”

“Ooh!” Tony makes grabby hands at the bag as he lifts himself into a sitting position. “Gimme.”

Steve takes the container out of the bag but moves it out of reach just as Tony is about to take it from him. “Just so you know, I told him this wasn’t a good idea,” he says before handing the box over along with a fork.

Tony frowns. “That’s silly. Tiramisu is never a bad idea.” He eagerly opens the box, cracking the plastic lid as he does so. Without another word, he sinks his fork into the cake as his two friends watch. They know he never shares his tiramisu anyway.

A bit of cake drips from his fork as he lifts it towards his mouth. Weird, but he shrugs it off mentally. Maybe the cream just melted a bit on their way back to the tower.

He takes his first bite, relishing the richness of the chocolate powder. Then the rest of the taste hits him. He looks at the container and digs around the cake, analyzing it.

“It doesn’t taste like coffee,” he tells Clint. He lifts up another forkful, looking at the cake from every angle. “Why is there no texture? Where are the ladyfingers?” He takes a bite again. There’s nothing but cream and chocolate powder. And some orange liquid that keeps dripping off the damn fork.

“I think there’s a ladyfinger in the bag,” Clint says, digging through the plastic. He pulls out a small paper bag. “Yup, here it is.”

“A ladyfinger. Singular. As in one lone ladyfinger.” Tony squints into the paper bag as he takes it from Clint. “And it’s… crunchy.”

“I think you’re supposed to dip it in the cream,” Clint says. As if that’s a normal thing to do when eating tiramisu. Next to Tony, Steve covers his face with a hand and sinks deeper into the couch cushions.

“Remind me where you guys went for lunch again?”

His other hand joins the first as Steve mumbles, “That new Thai place down on 42nd.”

“But you got dessert where?”

“At the Thai place, obviously,” Clint responds. “I saw tiramisu on the menu and knew we needed to get it for you.”

Right. Obviously.

“You got tiramisu from a Thai restaurant.”

“Duh. It’s Thai milk tea tiramisu. Neat twist, right?”

That explains the drippy orange mess.

Tony places the container of cream back on the coffee table and stands up. Pointing at Clint, he demands, “Birdboy, come with me.” He pauses as he nears the elevator and turns back to Steve. “You’re coming too.”

He leads them to the garage and herds them into the first car he finds, then gets behind the wheel. For the first time in a long time, he drives silently, with no music playing or idle conversation to pass the time. Even as Clint asks over and over again where they’re going, Tony does nothing but stew in a deep kind of sadness that he had never felt before.

When Tony finally pulls over half an hour later, Steve sucks in a deep breath. “We’re really in it this time,” he mutters as he gets out of the car.

“Alright, Stark. This is getting weird. Why are we here?”

Tony can only glare at Clint for a moment before he turns on his heels and walks through the gates, knowing the other two men will follow. When he finally reaches his destination, he spares Clint only another glance before he faces forward again to look at Maria Carbonell Stark’s headstone.

“Apologize.”

“What?!”

Tony huffs and looks back at Clint. “Apologize to my mother, Barton. What you did today was disrespectful.”

“Excuse me?”

Turning once again to where his mom is laid to rest, Tony whines. “He gave me an abomination and called it tiramisu, mama. That was mean. And gross. You would be so disgusted. If he doesn’t apologize you should totally haunt his ass.”

“Hey! I don’t want to be haunted by your mother’s ghost!”

“Then apologize.”

“Fine!” Clint steps forward and grumbles, “I’m real sorry, Mrs. Stark. It won’t happen again.” He turns to Tony. “I hate you. But I’m sorry. I honestly thought you might like it.”

“You’re forgiven.”

Tony turns to his other side, where Steve is trying his best to muffle his laughter behind his fist.

“Now you. Apologize.”

Steve’s hands fall to his sides as his jaw drops. “Me? What did I do?”

“You didn’t try harder to stop him. You’re supposed to protect me,” Tony says indignantly.

“Alright, fine.” Steve sighs as he steps up to speak. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll never let your son taste another bad tiramisu again for as long as I live.”

“Remember you can always haunt them if they go back on their word, mama. Okay, love you, I’ll be back soon!” Tony turns to go, holding Steve’s hand as they walk back to the car where Clint is already waiting. “Now let’s go get me some real cake.”

[miasmaghoul]

moutaindew frotting <3

"You smell different."

Dew offers a questioning chirp, lays his head back on Mountain's chest to peer up at him. Water splashes against the sides of the tub, carries the sweet-scented suds over the sides to drip onto the tiled floor below. Mountain noses at his temple, sniffs at his soaked hair.

"How can you tell?" Dew settles back against his chest, stretching sore legs with a groan. "All I smell is oranges 'n dirt." Mountain snuffles against his ear and Dew squawks, slaps at his leg under the water. "Quit it, you weirdo."

Mountain ignores him for the most part, and Dew doesn't have the energy to balk at the attention. They'd spent a large portion of this sweltering summer day in the orchards, picking peaches and citrus by the bushel. Delivering some to the kitchens and the rest to the truck waiting by the greenhouse, all destined for the abbey's farmstand in one form or another. Dew hadn't minded the work, but it left him with jelly legs and a crunchy spine that demanded a nice warm soak.

Thankfully, Mountain hadn't objected to his request for a piggyback ride to get there.

"You need a better nose," the other ghoul rumbles, dragging the tip of his nose from the crown of Dew's head to the base of one horn. "What hair treatment did you use?"

Dew shrugs, letting his eyes slip shut. Resting one hand over the arm Mountain has looped around his waist and the other on a muscular thigh. Mountain's other arm rests on the rim of the bath, fingers swirling through the surface of the water. It's started to go cool, and Dew sighs.

"Dunno."

The little ghoul up his temperature until the tub is steaming again, pouring warmth into the broad body behind him as a bonus. Mountain clearly appreciates it, judging by the way he holds him a little tighter. Task accomplished, Dew waves at the bevy of bottles on the shelves next to the tub.

"Whichever one's in front," he mumbles, tipping his head when the other ghoul moves to sniff at his neck instead. "Didn't care what I got, just needed the gross gone."

Mountain chuffs, warm breath flowing over his wet skin. Dew hums with it, a sound that melts into a gentle exhale when Mountain presses his lips to the sensitive spot just below his ear.

"The blue one?"

"Maybe?" Dew strokes the soft skin of Mountain's thigh, an unconscious motion that mirrors the way Mountain's lips travel down his neck, across his shoulder. "Maybe green. Why, s'it smell bad?"

"Far from it, droplet," Mountain assures him. "Just...interesting. Different, but familiar."

Well that explains a lot.

"Are you tellin' me I stink or - ah!" Dew squeaks in when Mountain nips at his shoulder, fangs he's not expecting pinching his skin. "Hey, what the -"

"You smell good," Mountain whispers, and whatever Dew was about to say fades into nothing when he feels something stir against his lower back. "Really good."

Dew gasps when a rough tongue laves at his shoulder, shivers when it glides up his throat. His own cock twitches despite the ache still threaded through his muscles, and the little ghoul sucks air through his teeth when Mountain sucks his earlobe.

"Shit, Mount," he groans, raking his claws along the taller ghoul's inner thigh. "Thought you were tired."

"I'm fucking exhausted," he confirms, shifting his hold to splay a large hand over Dew's belly. "But you just smell so good..."

Mountain drags him closer, until he's fully flush with his chest and Dew can feel his half-hard cock mold to the small of his back. Mountain buries his nose in his hair while more water splashes to the floor, taking a long, deep inhale.

"So you keep saying," Dew mumbles, but he really can't complain when every breath seems to make Mountain throb against him. He wiggles as best he can, just to make the other ghoul gasp. "This thing seems to agree."

"Can't help it." Mountain's other hand sinks beneath the suds, grips Dew’s skinny thigh. "Dunno why, but -"

"'S fine," Dew sighs, working to make himself sound put out despite the fact that he's gotten all chubby himself. "But since you want it so bad," he lilts, a gentle tease, "don't expect me to do any of the work."

He means it to sound haughty, like a taunt, something for Mountain to bounce off of. To call him lazy, or a princess, or any of a thousand other things that would only add fuel the embers starting to burn in his belly.

"Okay," Mountain breathes instead, and Dew doesn't have time to process it before he's being moved.

Not far, mind, but still. Mountain hooks his hands under each of Dew's thighs and lifts him, the water aiding the motion. He sits the little ghoul higher in his lap, thick shaft dragging between Dew's cheeks and wringing a surprised sound out of him.

"Mount, what -"

"Shh," Mountain soothes, slouching further into the water until his knees break the surface. "Just let me have you."

Well, it's not like Dew would ever say no to that.

He's not sure what to expect with the way Mountain's arranging them, but it becomes clear soon enough; he settles Dew against his chest once more, but further up. Far enough for the little ghoul to rest his head on Mountain's shoulder. He rests Dew's legs between his own, keeps them spread just enough to -

"Oh."

Dew sucks his lower lip between his fangs when he feels something hard and hot insert itself between his thighs, pressed right up against his tight sack, and despite the warmth of the water Dew shivers eyes fluttering shut. He squeezes his legs together and loves the loud thud of Mountain's head hitting the porcelain wall of the tub. He snickers, rests his hands on Mountain's exposed knees.

"Like that, big guy?"

Mountain doesn't answer with anything but a low purr, the vibration lovely against Dew's back. Encouraging him to relax even further, to slip a little deeper. He can't even be bothered to open his eyes when one of those massive hands slides up his thigh, over his hip, fingertips drifting through his sparse happy trail. Mountain finds his stiff little dick, gives it a single stroke, and Dew doesn't bother hiding his soft moan.

Then the other ghoul chages his grip, presses Dew's cock against the firm shaft of his own, and as Mountain takes both of their lengths in one hand Dew feels him nosing at his scalp again.

"Who'd think you'd get so boned up over some soap," Dew mutters, as far from complaining as he could be. Mountain chuckles as he fists their cocks, one long, slow stroke.

"Can't help it," he repeats, and Dew responds with the tiniest roll of his hips. One that makes Mountain choke and hold them even tighter. "Fuck, Dew -"

"Just keep sniffin' me, weirdo," the little ghoul teases, happy to do nothing but lay back and enjoy the way Mountain's veiny shaft feels against his own. "But if you cum first you're suckin' me off."

[decadentpostnachos-evil-twin]

Hanging on by a thread for a multitude of reasons.

So, looking up acotar fan art one inevitably gets smacked in the face with Fey/sand at some point. And if it's not them with their kid or cutely holding hands, it's something like this:

(There are watermarks on the fanart and I got them from Pinterest...middle one is someone called ignartio, I didn't find them on instagram though)

Why are people making a big quantity of art of this particular part of acotar? Are there truly people thinking that this is in any way appealing? Let's recap.

Feyre goes under the mountain, a comparatively dumb little girl. To save her lover Tamlin and maybe her friend Lucien if she's already at it. Faces crunchy Amaranth and doesn't get the riddle right (not wanting to belittle her here bc acotar Feyre was somewhat of a cutie, but that riddle was easy af, way to make her seem like an idiot.) Anyway, get's beaten to unconsciousness after blurting out her name because Lucien would have rather died than to give it away.

Little Feyre get's her three trials and a bunch of tasks for inbetween, i.e. cleaning that hallway. Other than that, people leave little Feyre relatively alone.

Until that self serving prick comes along and thinks to himself "Hey, why not treat her like an object and humiliate her in front of hundreds if not thousands of people, for shits and giggles?" So he proceeds to have his lackeys dress her up in what is essentially a handkerchief and paint her, so everyone can see where he put his grimy hands. And then he drugs her and has her dance for him, barely half aware of what's going on around her. All the while touching her. And the next morning she awakes with a killer headache, barely any memories and the need to throw up.

"But he did this to protect her!" - From what? Nobody cared for her beyond the trials. She was not used as entertainment by anyone else. They had their orgies and whatnot. There was no passable reason to be doing this to her.

"But he only touched her waist and hips!" - So you're telling me that you'd find it okay if somebody drugged you and "only" touched your waist and hips? Touching somebody without their consent, especially in such a vulnerable state is simply gross.

"But he had to keep his mask-" - Shut. Up. His "mask" did not include this particularly disgusting shit he pulled. He could have just let her alone, nobody would have batted a lash. Feyre was a comparatively uninteresting human girl. Had he not made her dance practically naked, no one would have missed her there.

My point, you ask? Stop romanticising what Rhysand did to Feyre under the Mountain. Stop trying to justify it. Those were the actions of an entirely sick individual.

[padawansuggest]

Obi-Wan: Alright, men, what are we thinking right now?

Wooley: *shoved his lil hand up super fast* Oh, me! I got this one, me!

Obi-Wan: *waving his hand over them all* Hmmmmmmm- you. *points to Wooley*

Wooley: *fist pumps* Yes! Okay so I think we should throw Cody a decanting-day party with cheeses.

Obi-Wan: Cheeses?

Waxer: No he’s right, Cody likes cheeses. And caf. I think we should get him an espresso machine.

Obi-Wan: Those are super expensive, I have several contacts I can pout at till they buy me one. Why cheeses? I’ve never seen Cody’s apparently well known love for cheese.

Boil: Yeah, that’s cause he’s scared you’ll think he’s insane.

Obi-Wan: Okay, but, like, is this a fancy stinky cheese thing or is he gonna eat an entire block of store brand cheddar right from the package??? This is news to me and both have to be approached very differently.

Wooley: It’s the stinky one. They’re like SUPER icky but he loves them but he will eat them right from the package with nothing but bread at room temperature.

Obi-Wan: No, no, that’s how those ones are supposed to be eaten.

Wooley: Is gross tho.

Waxer: Idk I think they’re good if the bread is crunchy, but I like the not-as-smelly ones.

Boil: I’ll eat the store brand cheddar right from the block idk man

Obi-Wan: Awesome, I have an idea. Party at Padme’s house, new espresso machine that I’ll get… probably Bail, I haven’t annoyed Bail lately. I’ll get Bail to buy him an espresso machine. You guys get to come with me to look for cheeses, both fancy and store brand, but they will be on separate sides of the room so no one complains. I’m sorry, Boil, but this means you’ll be with Anakin and Ahsoka on the store brand side of the room.

Boil: The price of not smelling that stinky stuff is worth it every time.

Obi-Wan: Awesome. Best decanting-day party ever.