#scissor jack lift

[bestpickme]

✅ Unveiling The Ultimate Car Maintenance Tool: Discover The Top 5 Scisso...

[superliftcanada]

Advantages to Get When You Buy Stainless Steel Ground Level Scissors Online

Material handling industries are one of the most crucial aspects that no one can ignore. There are different types of material handling equipment available with dissimilar functionality and features. Due to this, they offer versatile and reliable solutions for material handling, maintenance, and construction tasks. Their significance solely depends on their design combined with robustness, adaptability, and robustness. When you buy stainless steel ground-level scissors online, there are a lot of advantages to grab from. Here is all about this outstanding material handling equipment and how it helps to streamline the material handling job in various industrial setups. 

Durable and Free from Corrosion 

Stainless steel is preferred for its outstanding durability and corrosion resistance. This is one of the most reliable and popular features that is being used in various industrial environments where they have to deal with harassing environments. The stainless steel ground-level scissors normally operate in various harsh environments where they have to deal with moisture, chemicals, and other corrosive elements. With stainless steel construction, these scissors can easily withstand such conditions, which ensures longevity and minimal maintenance requirements. This durability helps reduce costs because it requires fewer replacements and repairs compared to any type of alternatives that are made from conventional materials. 

Unmatchable Safety and Stability 

The main objective of the ground-level scissors is to offer a stable platform for lifting and positioning heavy loads close to the ground level. Stainless steel construction enhances stability and safety to many extend, and needless to say, safety is a crucial factor in industries where mishaps can lead to significant injuries or damage to equipment and material. The robust design, along with the materials, helps to reduce the risk of structural failures, ensuring a safe and secure working environment for industrial operators. 

Versatility to Meet Specific Requirements  

Versatility is one of the biggest advantages of the stainless steel ground-level scissors. They can be easily customized to meet any specific requirements like load capacity, platform size, and lifting height. Due to this outstanding adaptability, this material handling equipment is being used in various applications across various industrial landscapes like manufacturing, warehousing, logistics, and construction. Whether it's moving heavy machinery in a factory setting or facilitating maintenance tasks in a warehouse, these scissors mainly offer different types of flexible solutions that can be tailored to meet different types of operational requirements. 

Precision Control 

When it comes to thorough control over the material, ground-level scissors meet this parameter in the industrial landscape. They offer unmatchable lifting and lowering operations, allowing the operators to position loads with utmost accuracy and efficiency. The stainless steel construction contributes to this precision by ensuring smooth and constant performance even under heavy loads. This kind of control is crucial in various tasks, specifically where the precise positioning is critical, like assembly lines where the components are required to be aligned thoroughly or at the construction sites where the materials need to be placed in the perfect position. In this way, it becomes the most important player in these industrial landscapes that helps to avoid any kind of delays or errors. 

Environmental Sustainability 

Stainless steel, with its extended lifespan and capacity for recycling, is a very sustainable material. Stainless steel ground-level scissors save waste and require fewer replacements, which helps to promote environmental sustainability. Stainless steel's eco-friendliness is further enhanced by the fact that its production procedures have less of an impact on the environment than those of many other materials.

These are the best features that you can get when you buy stainless steel ground-level scissors online. So, relying on this material handling equipment can greatly contribute to your industrial operation. 

Resource: https://superliftcanada.wordpress.com/2024/04/23/advantages-to-get-when-you-buy-stainless-steel-ground-level-scissors-online/

[the-knight-sir-dres]

ok i am summoning you people of tumblr if there is anyone else who has the same overlap of interests that I do in medieval armour and TADC how would you guys go about armouring Zooble's arms?

I'm thinking I'll probably just use maille, but especially for the arm with the spring section I'm not sure -I think it would have to be separate from the chest and be either pointed or strapped to whatever's being worn over the chest.

[wardenparker]

American as Apple Pie

Jack Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 12k Warnings: Cursing, food/alcohol, meddlesome friends, mention of shooting/guns but the context is carnival games, cheesy flirting, Jack being Jack. Fingering, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex. Summary: Going to a Fourth of July party with your girlfriends turns out to be an unexpected whirlwind. Notes: It wouldn't be a holiday without a little fic to celebrate. Independence Day seemed best acknowledged with a heavy dose of Jack's good natured charm. 🎆🎇💗🤍💙

The Statesman Fourth of July celebration in Louisville, Kentucky is one of the biggest and loudest in the area. It was an excuse to drape everything in red, white and blue, perfect your Uncle Sam costume, and play Lee Greenwood’s ‘Proud to be an American’ on repeat. There is a special whiskey barrel that is opened every year since its founding in 1919. Huge grills are rolled out to cook hamburger and hotdogs by the thousands as it’s an open party for everyone. Ending in a spectacular fireworks show that lights up the sky.

Some friends wanted to go. Girls from the office who were looking for a more festive holiday celebration than watching their siblings' kids play in the pool and playing cornhole while their aunts bitched about grocery prices. Not having anything better to do, you had thrown on the only red, white, and blue clothes you had in your closet and punctuated the look with red lipstick just for fun. Maybe you'll have one too many and flirt with a cowboy. That wouldn't be too bad.

The bolero he normally wears around his neck with the button down and sports coat had been traded for an open collared shirt, a print of U.S flags on them. His normally painted on jeans exchanged for white shorts and cowboy boots changed out with boat shoes. Still, the black Stetson is firmly on his head, although the mustache was still impeccably groomed and no one would mistake him for anything but a cowboy as he drinks from a long neck bottle to beat the mid afternoon heat.

The music filtering through speakers all over the Statesman Distillery property is obviously country, but the actual number of Stetsons in the sea of guests is staggering even to a Louisville resident. It's that time of the year, you suppose, making your way toward one of the many drink carts with your friends as you scope out the crowd.

“Weeeeeellllll, holy shit.” Tequila whistles, twisting his neck as he looks over at the margarita cart, smirking at the choice of drink. “Get a good look at the shorts on those legs.” He nods, making Jack follow his gaze to the group of women who obviously just arrived.

"God bless the USA." Rum pronounces solemnly, only lifting his Stetson from his head to place it over his heart in salute to the group of four ladies in the tiniest shorts he's ever seen that are now getting their drinks.

“Goddamn I love the summer.” Jack whistles, winking at the one in the red top when she looks over at them. “Happy fourth ladies!” He calls out, lifting his beer towards them.

"Happy Fourth!" You call back, raising the frozen margarita you've just been served in their direction as you friends giggle mercilessly around you. The three men who are not bothering to censor their ogling are dressed in some of the worst outfits here. Tiny white booty shorts on one, a stars and stripes Kiss the Cook apron on the tallest, and the third wearing neon red shorts and a muscle tank depicting a bald eagle wearing sunglasses that says You Free Tonight? underneath.

"Rocks Paper Scissors for the tall one?" You friend Madi proposes to the group, eyeing the youngest and buffest of the men like he's the snack she didn't know she was craving.

“No, you can have him.” Tina snorts. “I’ve got my eye on the one with the eagle on his shirt.” She admits, drooling herself at the virile display of man, who can also enjoy themselves.

“Have fun,” you snort, shaking your head and focusing on your drink. “I came here to drink and to line dance very poorly, not to get picked up.”

“Why can’t we have it all?” Madi asks, giggling when the one in the apron motions the group over when no one has looked away.

“I’m not sure white shorts is the guy to break my dry spell,” you mumble to them with an amused grin as the four of you strut over to the men who were watching you. “And you two already called dibs on the others.”

“If you don’t want him, I’ll ride his mustache.” Sandra snorts, smirking slightly at the group of men. “I’m sure my fiancé wouldn’t mind.”

“Sure.” Tina giggles. “We’ll just call Brad up and let him know you’ll be late for dinner because you found a cowboy at a party.”

“He’ll understand.” All of you laugh, knowing that he definitely would not understand. He loved her completely and was lucky enough that she was just as crazy about him. Their wedding is only three months away.

“Ladies.” Kiss the Cook tips his hat gallantly and lets his eyes sweep over every single one of you. “A very happy Independence Day to you beauties.”

All three men clock the ring on the statuesque brunette’s hand and immediately understands that she is off limits. The other two tip their hats as well and Jack grins. “Can we offer you something to eat?”

There is a split second before you look over to fully take in the third man of the group that you’re apparently now hanging out with, and instantly regret the snap judgement made from yards away just a minute or two before. He’s only smaller by comparison, broad shoulders and a strikingly cut jaw accented by the aviator sunglasses he’s wearing and leading down to biceps as thick as his neck and hands that — fuck, if you’d seen his hands beforehand you wouldn’t have said a damn thing, he makes that beer bottle look like a doll accessory. “Ah—We—um, sure,” you manage to blurt out, nodding self-consciously and absolutely aware that your friends are never going to let you live down getting flustered in front of the cowboy.

Madi grins at the way you are suddenly tripping over yourself to accept the offer of a burger. “If we’re gonna eat, maybe we can know who is offering us a plate?” She asks, smiling flirtatiously at the taller man holding the spatula. The three men chuckle. “We go by our work nicknames.” Jack offers, pointing at Rum to start. “Ryan, also known as Rum. Because he can get any party started.” He introduces him with a grin. “Next, we have our ‘kiss the cook’, Luke, who we call Tequila. He thinks he can make clothes come off.” Tequila rolls his eyes and shoves Jack slightly as the older man tips his hat towards you girls. “And I’m Jack, otherwise known as Whiskey.” Tina grins. “Why do they call you that?” She asks, making Jack chuckle. “Because I go down as smooth as the finest whiskey.” He boasts, tipping his aviators down so his eyes find you again and he shoots you a confident wink.

“So you work here then, I assume?” Guys who work for a distillery having boozy nicknames it’s so far off base, but Jack’s declaration that he ‘goes down like the finest whiskey’ has you thinking mustache ride thoughts all over again and if you could do it you might just slap yourself for something so obvious. On the other hand? No man should be able to make a wink look as smooth as he just did.

“Only if you want us to.” Rum smirks at Tina and tips his hat back slightly. “Otherwise we can be whatever you want. Spies, cowboys, hell, maybe all three.” Tequila huffs a cough and slaps Rum on the back. “Are you ladies burger or hot dog kind of women?” He asks, changing the subject.

“I think there’s a rule that you have to have a hot dog on the Fourth of July, isn’t there?” Tina replies, batting her eyelashes pointedly.

“Absolutely.” Tequila agrees. “Now the question is-“ he points the tongs at all of you seriously. “Are you a chili cheese dog person or a peppers and onions person?”

The question sparks a full culinary debate, as Tina insists only mustard is necessary, Sandra and Madi are fans of peppers and onions any way they can get them, and you just shrug over it all because there's no point in trying to be dainty with a hot dog. A chili cheese dog is the only way to go.

Jack chuckles as the girls are chattering, except the one in the red. “You are awful quiet, sugar.” He comments. “Not choosy?”

"Very choosy," you tell him, laughing a little about how involved your friends are getting in this debate with the other two guys. "Chili cheese dog every time. But my friends like to pretend that it's possible to be dainty while eating a hot dog. I'd rather enjoy something delicious."

Jack grins at your answer and points a finger up to tip his hat back on his head. “No, you just gotta jump in and devour it.” He hums, his smirk slightly dirty.

"Whoever put you three in one place today is a menace," you inform him with a deeper, rounder laugh. "But I totally agree. The only way is to jump in."

Jack chuckles, leaning in a little closer to you. “Not true.” He coos. “We were brought together for a good time.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his beer.

It can be both," you concede, getting a whiff of an expensive, musky cologne under the grill and sunscreen smell that hangs all around this booth.

“Well then.” Jack snorts, tapping his bottle against your margarita glass. “To being a menace.” He offers with a smirk.

"Here." A long sip of your drink hides a flustered grin, but you don't mind having run into someone this charming and handsome right off the bat. You and your friends will wander away in due time, and they'll become a fun anecdote for the office, and probably material for the spank bank of each and every member of your group as well.

“So what made you decide to join our little celebration?” Jack asks without any sense of irony despite the bash being massive. There are bounce houses and carnival style game booths set up. Along with all kinds of food and drink.

"Girls' day out." Ordinarily you might feel bad for Sandra, being slightly singled out while the other three of you are being shamelessly flirted with, but she's chatting with Kiss the Cook as well and having a grand time. "When your day is office, home, and back again, sometimes a party is just what you need."

“Oh I understand.” He promises, even if his work is not as traditionally boring all the time, there are plenty of days that the paperwork tedium gets to him.

"Your days are probably a lot more fun than ours." Without knowing that you're reading his thoughts, you just decide to make conversation and enjoy whatever comes from it.

“Some days. Others it’s slower than molasses dripping off a spoon.” He likes the fact that you aren’t just flirting, there’s interesting conversation blooming. “Although I’m enjoying right now.”

"This must be one of the more fun workdays each year." Why wouldn't it be? There are half-dressed women all over the places, and whatever the orientation of these three might be, they're all definitely interested in women. You sip your drink again and find that your head tilts slightly in his direction instinctively. "We're not going to get you in trouble, are we?"

“Nah.” Jack waves away your concern, secretly touched that you would be worried about that. “Well just call this….public relations.” He teases, winking at you again. “How does that sound, sugar?”

"Like you should be a politician," you snort, but honestly you don't mind. It's been a while since you just flirted for the hell of it and it's fun.

Jack wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Sugar, you are breaking my heart.” He groans. “I would never want to be lumped in with those lyin’, thievin’ scumbags.” He shakes his head and puts his beer down to lay his hand over his heart. “I’m a patriot.”

Somehow that only makes you laugh more, and when you meet his eyes again it's with warm cheeks and a bright smile. "My apologies," you hum, tipping your margarita in his direction again like a salute. "We'll stick to drinking and flirting. No filibusters today."

“Now hold on….” Jack leans closer and chuckles. “Depends on what kind of filibuster we are talkin’ about.” He drawls. “Some of them can be a good time.” His eyes slide up and down your body suggestively.

Raising one eyebrow at him, sip your sour-sweet vacations through the bright pink straw and smirk. “You want to have a prolonged speech that stalls all activity about my body? Seems counterintuitive, cowboy.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “I don’t think you understand darlin’.” He leans in even closer. “We ain’t talkin’ during my filibuster, we’re just prolonging the main event.” He explains.

One second your head is tiled and the next second you're clamping your mouth shut on a bitten lip. He's just gone from casually flirting to casually painting a mental image that will last you weeks. "You're pretty sure of yourself, cowboy," you hum when you remember how to speak again.

“Have to be.” He admits, truth more than cockiness in his words. “You don’t have to accept, but….” He smirks. “You could always consider it your patriotic booty.” His pun is horrible and he knows it, but he uses it proudly. With the same confidence he wears his Fourth of July outfit.

You snort before you can stop yourself, shaking your head at him as you wave off the laugh as good natured. "That's awful." The play on 'patriotic duty' is absurd, but somehow he manages to make it circle back to charming in a way that is fairly impressive. From most guys it would just sound cheesy or plain bad.

“It is, isn’t it?” He agrees with a grin. “Really awful.” He reaches for his beer again and finishes it in one long swallow.

"Worst line I've heard in a very long time." Even though you're agreeing, you chuckle and shake your head. Why the hell not? When was the last time you just cut loose and had some fun? Can you even remember? "It's...not a no, though."

“Hmmmm.” He lifts a brow and smirks at you again as he reaches into the cooler next to him for another beer. “Well then, I better make sure that you are fed, sugar.” He tells you. “‘Cause you might be in for a hell of a night.”

"You promise a girl a hell of a lot." But for some reason you don't think he's lying, or even exaggerating that much. Maybe it's wishful thinking, you can't tell, but Jack fixes up your hot dog with flare and hands it over just as you finish your margarita.

He takes your empty glass and chuckles. “Would you like another frosty margarita? Or perhaps the blackberry old fashions that are being made?” He asks, pointing to another stand just a few feet away, featuring the ‘87 single barrel that Jack loves.

"I think I have to have whiskey this time, don't I?" Given his nickname, it would almost seem rude not to. Especially when you've decided to encourage him. At least you've been polite enough not to let your eyes wander down and inspect those tiny little shorts he has on.

“Right away.” Jack gives you a two fingered salute before he spins on his heel and hurries towards the booth to collect you the best blackberry old fashion you’ve ever had.

Sandra scrambles over during the momentary pause, searching your face for anything besides the focused attention you're paying to the cowboy's ass as he walks away. "Are we rescuing or retreating?" She murmurs, hot dog in hand but ready to bounce in a heartbeat if you need it. "Actually?" Glancing up at her, you offer a sideways grin of defeat. "I think I'm gonna hang out a while. Hot-but-cheesy cowboy kinda got to me. I wanna see how this plays out."

“Really?” Her brow shoots up and she grins at you. “Takin’ that mustache for a ride?” She teases. “I’m jealous. He’s got a fantastic one.”

"I'll tell Brad to grow one before the wedding," you tease, barely managing not to snort again with laughter as Jack heads back your way.

“Ladies.” Jack smiles with a charming aplomb as he hands you the old fashion he had made for you, and offers Sandra the one he had gotten for himself.

"Oh, I'm alright." Sandra insists, smiling her thanks but not taking the drinks. "Designated driver. I had my one and now I'm set for the day." That smile flashes over at you, and she squeezes your hip gently but encouragingly. "I think we're going to wander. You want to come?"

It's a clear chance to break away if you have suddenly changed your mind and you want to, but you shake your head and lean over to kiss your friend's cheek. "I'll catch up with you guys later," you tell her, though at present you aren't actually sure if you will or not.

“I’ll keep her entertained.” Jack promises when your friend’s eyes turn towards him and he can read a slight warning in them. “And return her to you when she’s bored with me.” He adds.

“You have our numbers,” Sandra reminds you. “One text and we come running.” She blows you a kiss before stepping away, satisfied that Jack will at least be respectful as well as pretty, and that’s worth its weight in gold.

“You don’t have to stay.” Jack hums. “But I’ll make sure you don’t regret it if you do.”

"Promises, promises," you sing song, but rather than letting the moment get heavy you take a first bite of your hot dog and groan happily.

He chuckles and lets you enjoy the hotdog, admiring the way you save a dollop of mustard before it escapes and takes a sip of his drink. “After you eat, are you wanting to dance or maybe play a few games?”

"Either." Pleased with the idea that he might put a little more work into this than just fucking you and having a nap after, you end up smirking a little before the last bite of your food. "Both?"

“Done.” He agrees easily, holding out a napkin for you like a gentlemen. Other agents have taken over the grills because Tequila and Rum have magically disappeared with your friends. “Games first, let your hotdog settle.”

Gone in mere minutes, you make sure you haven't smeared your mouth with mustard or chili before picking up the drink he brought you and motioning ahead of you toward the rest of the fair. "Lead the way, cowboy."

The first booth is one that all the agents have been warned to throw. It’s the shooting gallery. He grins as he cocks his head to the side. “Whatcha think?”

"I can't say I'm much with a gun. Besides maybe a Super Soaker." The big plushies and toys behind the counter look just as inviting as they're supposed to, though, and you shrug. "But what the hell. Think you can give me a few pointers?"

“Let’s see how you do and maybe I’ll help you win a prize?” Despite the warning, Champ won’t be too mad if he shows off just a little. Especially since all the prizes have been paid for by Statesman already, leaving the game free to play.

"I have a feeling I'm about to embarrass myself for your amusement." Despite that, you laugh and take your place at the booth. The moving targets are fairly standard — bright yellow duck-like figures that do not resemble the actual animals but look more like rubber duckies that will fall over on the track when shot. "Here goes nothing," you decide, figuring that if you get even two you'll be extremely proud of yourself.

Jack uses this to his advantage and presses close behind you, holding your elbow up. “Steady.” He murmurs in your ear.

"Hell of a thing to say to a girl when you're that close," you mumble, but the smirk in your voice is obvious.

“I can always say more.” He teases playfully, nudging your arm up slightly. “Be a good girl and take a deep breath.”

It's almost frustrating how well that works on you, making you inhale sharply and shallowly at the words and completely giving yourself away before you can follow the direction and inhale slowly like he's told you to.

You miss, but it was actually closer than Jack had figured the first shot would be. “Good job!” He praises, reaching for your hips and shifting your core slightly, brining you back against him more. “Try again, sugar.”

Whatever the cologne is he's wearing, it reminds you of a campfire in the middle of a forest and that might be fogging your mind more than helping you concentrate. Again, you inhale deeply and squeeze the triggering, putting far more work into this silly shooting game than you need to but finding that you actually clip one of the targets this time and manage to almost knock it over.

“Almost got it.” Jack hums in approval. “Let’s see you knock that same one down.”

Utter concentration isn't possible with him pressed up against you, but you breathe again and call yourself to order, managing to breathe and aim and drop your elbow and all of those other things in just the right harmony to actually knock over one of the targets on the next try. It's not enough to get you a prize, but it's enough to have you doing a little wiggled dance of celebration that all the effort paid off.

Jack chuckles, happy with your achievement. “Good job, sugar.” He praises. “You did a good job.”

"Not bad for an accountant," you joke, turning a little to beam at him.

“Not too bad at all.” He winks, nodding to the game handler as they set the target back up. “Now I want you to pick out which prize you want.” He tells you, taking the gun from your hand.

"Cocky." You smirk at him but glance back at the booth and consider the options hanging from the top of the booth. Right in front, there is a white teddy bear with blue and red stars wearing a Statesman t-shirt. "How about that one right there?"

Jack hums in approval and looks towards the attendant. “Ten shots in a row.” The kid, who can’t be more than seventeen explains. “Knock all ten down and you win the prize.”

There's no way he'll do it, but you step far enough away to give him room and wave one hand toward the little metal duckies. "Show off for me, cowboy."

Jack settles his hat more firmly on his head and since it’s ten shots, he picks up another gun to have one in each hand. “Oh I will.” He promises as he sends both weapons twirling around his trigger fingers in a smooth gun trick.

Despite literally asking him to show off, your eyes still widen with the trick and you're left half-giggling and half-staring as he knocks down every single target with grace and seemingly no effort at all.

The targets are easy and Jack might have been showing off just a tad by alternating shots with both hands, making sure that you know he’s just as accurate with both hands. The targets are down and he turns towards you with a grin. “Your prize, sugar.” He bows as the stuffed bear is handed to you.

More than a little surprised by the display that was just put on for your benefit, you choke out a laugh, thank the kid running the booth, and positively curtsy to Jack in exchange for the bow. “Alright, I admit it,” you laugh in utter surprise, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek like a fairy tale princess bestowing a token. “I’m very impressed.”

“Good.” Jack smirks slightly and looks at the bear. “I think it’s always important to impress a lady.”

“Consider us deeply impressed indeed,” you joke, holding up the bear beside you like it might have had an opinion in the matter all its own.

Jack smirks slightly. “Do you want to play some more games or dance?”

“I don’t see how we could do any better at the games.” ‘We’ here meaning him — your own performance was dismal but that hardly matters. He’s smiling at you like he wants to make you scream in the best way possible and you want to see if he moves as well on the dance floor if he claims to in bed. “Let’s go dance.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jack takes the hand that is holding your drink and carries it for you. Looping his arm through yours so you can still hold your bear. “We’ll let him watch and learn.” He jokes, motioning to where other stuffed animals are resting while couples cut up the large dance floor.

“For when all the other bears decide to have a hoedown of their own?” That’s about the cutest thing you can think of — aside from him — and you grin at the idea. “I like that. Teddy Bear Hoedown is like a sequel to the Teddy Bear Picnic.”

He chuckles and you go over to the large table, setting down your bear in a particular spot. “He will be safe.” Jack promises you.

“So full of promises today.” The little coo in your voice is teasing, but maybe that’s just how he is? Reassuring and protective is not a bad combination in a man. Not at all.

“My momma always said never make promises you can’t keep.” Even with your drink in your hand after he presses it to you, Jack sweeps you up in his arms to take you out to the dance floor.

“And you always do what your momma tells you to, like a good southern gentleman.” It’s just a guess, but as he twirls you around to settle against him, cradling you in his arms so you can drink and dance while you away with the slower tempo song that’s playing, you just have to grin. “Very smooth,” you admit without a hint of begrudging in the compliment.

“Sugar, all my moves are smooth.” Jack boast, smirking as he gently glides around the floor with you, taking special care not to jostle your drink. The next song will be faster, but right now, the breathless couples are resting slightly with the bluesy sounds of Patsy Cline crooning to them.

“I’m starting to get that.” Not that you mind. Coming to this whole big carnival for the holiday was just for fun after all. But you glance over at Jack after taking the last sip of your drink and find your smile going a little lopsided. It isn’t the booze. He is that handsome.

He hums, his voice a little rusty as he starts to quietly sing along with the song. Only slightly off key as he serenades you with a grin on his face. One that tells you he’s well aware that he’s not the best singer, but he enjoys being a little silly.

Maybe it’s silly. Or maybe it’s human. Maybe it’s because it’s both, you start singing along with him, quietly and just a tad off key. Two silly, awkward, imperfect little people out there on the dance floor swaying in each other’s arms and singing ‘Walkin’ After Midnight’ to each other like a chest moment from a 90s romantic comedy. It’s impossible not to look at his lips at least a few times, both of you grinning when one of you flubs a lyric. And at the end of the song when he twirls you around again to land tight against his chest? The only possible place you can look are his eyes or those lips again, like a magnet pulling you in.

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes drop to his lips, basically asking for him to kiss you. He leans in slightly right before the song changes and is incredibly peppy. A song to line dance to. “Oops.” Jack smirks.

One another day or with another man it might have annoyed or frustrated you to be more or less cockblocked by a deejay. Today? With Jack? Your answer to it all is just to snort in amusement at how pleased with himself he looks and let yourself get all swept up in the dance. It was barely an hour ago that you met him. It does no one any harm to spend a little more time together before things get frisky.

The beat is easy to dance to and despite the fact that you might not know all the steps, Jack does. “Just follow me, sugar.”

The trouble with line dancing is that if you don't know every move you end up looking like an idiot, but you nod and decide to put a little bit more trust in him for the time being. If you were about to kiss the guy, you should at least be able to do that, right? "I'm with you," you promise him, knowing you can keep up.

Jack files into the natural line that forms, partners slightly in front of their men and everyone starts to move together. ‘Heel, toe, dosey doe, come on baby. Let’s boot-scoot.”

Able to pick it up step by step, you follow Jack's lead for movement and watch the couple in front of you the once or twice you get confused, until you're very smoothly and easily moving through the dance with glee. It's such a simple thing but so welcome, and utterly fun to boot.

You are laughing and that is all that matters as Jack grabs your waist to pick you up and spin you around before setting you back down in time with the other couples on the floor. “Having fun?”

“Every second I possibly can,” you answer with a light, bubbling giggle. He’s a strong lead — which is wonderful in a dance partner but gives you ideas about what he could be like in bed. Not to mention how strong he is…

“Good.” Jack is almost ninety-nine percent certain that he is taking you home tonight, but he wants you to enjoy yourself.

"And I hope you are, too?" Glancing back at him as he turns you, you raise one eyebrow at him in question.

“No doubt, sugar.” Jack is a shameless flirt, but oftentimes it’s not leading to more than that. Unless it’s his mission to seduce a target. This- this is just for him and he likes that you are having fun with his corny nature. “Best damn party I’ve been to in forever.” He promises. “Company makes it good.”

“Company is what matters.” And maybe it’s the silliness of it all again, but you throw him a wink before the dance has you turning again. He seems to like a like cheese with his flirting, and frankly that just makes it more fun for you.

The song finishes up and Jack decides that he will twirl you around once more and dip you down low, just to make you giggle. People clap and he grins at you over his aviators. “Another dance, or another drink, sugar?”

“One more dance?” He’s far too much fun like this, with moves even you have to admit he can be proud of, and you’ll be damned if you’re going to give that fun up just yet. Besides which…it might be a bit embarrassing for the guy whose nickname is Whiskey to find out you’re a bit of a lightweight.

He waggles his brows when the song turns to another slow one, meant to press bodies together. “Never turn down a chance to hold a beautiful woman close.” He promises as he tugs you in.

“I don’t believe you do.” It may be a small moment of teasing but the fact that he doesn’t take himself too seriously speaks volumes to you. Relaxed and confident are too things that don’t always compliment each other well — it can come off as pure arrogance whereas he’s cocky in a way that is a bit cheeky and fun. Everything about the man is over the top. “But then,” you hum, winking for good measure. “Neither do I.”

“Really?” Jack’s grin blows into a fully devilish smile and he looks around speculatively. “And which beautiful woman would you choose?” He asks with a chuckle.

For his amusement, you make a show of surveying the room even while you’re pressed tight up against him, and nudge him slightly when you spot a cute girl in the corner being talked at by some other guests she doesn’t seem to be too interested in. “Do you see the cute little redhead over there?” Your own nose points the way to him when you nod. “In the corner? She’s at a table with a blonde, but these two guys keep trying to flirt with her. I think she’s talk rather be flirting with her blonde friend.”

“Good call.” Jack snorts. “That’s Grenadine.” He explains. “She works at Statesman too.” It’s interesting that you seem to have an eye for agents.

“Does everybody get a booze related nickname?” You ask, amused at the idea of it. If you all got accounting nicknames, things would start sounding weird very fast at the office.

“Mixers count.” Jack chuckles. “It makes it easy when there’s twelve John’s working around the place.” He reasons.

"Fair enough, I guess." That does, logistically, make a bit of sense. And frames Statesman as a fairly whimsical place to work in the process. After twirling around the dance floor a little more, you hum softly to yourself and lift your head, raising one eyebrow in question. "Did you always want to work in the booze biz?" He seems silly enough to appreciate the phrasing, and you grin. "Or do you want to be something else when you grow up?"

“Just wanted to raise some hell.” Jack admits with a chuckle. “Was in the Navy for a little bit. Found out I like the freedom of the private world better.”

“Rules.” You huff dramatically, blowing a raspberry to make him laugh. “Who needs ‘em?”

Jack laughs, a full belly laugh of good humor. “Exactly.” He agrees. “Plus the pay is better.”

“There’s that too.” A nod of agreement comes on the end of your own laughter. “Distilleries pay well? I can’t say I’ve ever thought about it.”

“Good enough to buy corny outfits for the Fourth of July picnic.” He jokes, taking his aviators off and turning them around to perch on your nose.

“That’s what your shorts need!” You tease, cackling out loud and pushing his sunglasses a little further up your nose. “Ears of corn! The perfect symbol of Americana.”

Jack laughs again. “I’ll have to see if I can order some for next year.” He hums.

"Perfect." The grin you aim at him is almost blinding. "I guess I'll have to come back and see if you found any."

His smug smirk deepens and he waggles his brows. “Yeah?” He asks. “Maybe I’ll have to model them for you.” He suggests. “Make sure they are cheesy enough. Rum talked me out of my Daisy Dukes of Freedom.”

"Oh my god..." You barely manage not to snort with laughter over that image. "Do I want to know?"

“Silkies.” He explains. “Running shorts in the military are…brief.” He hums with a grin. “I had some American Flag ones but then Rum was complaining my upper thighs were too white to wear them.”

"Your friend's objection was your lack of tan?" That only makes you laugh harder, and by the end of the song you're practically clinging to each other as you share that laughter between you. "I dunno, Jack." With your lips pursed, you correct yourself. "Whiskey." He's sure as hell smooth, so why not just use the nickname? "I think you might have to do a little tanning so you can wear them again."

“Well I left my speedo in Italy.” He chuckles. “So how do you suggest I tan?”

That opens up a whole new line of questioning, but in this moment you just flash him an even bigger grin. "Nude, hopefully."

He pretends to be shocked, mouth opened and he reaches for his chest as if he is clutching pearls. “Why I declare!” He drawls. “That is such a scandalous suggestion.” His lips curl into a smirk. “I love scandal.”

"I had a feeling you might." The song is over, your revolving has stopped, and as the next — much more upbeat — song begins, you tilt your head slightly to the edge of the dance floor. "You wanna go be scandalous, Whiskey?"

“Is that an offer?” He asks, lifting a brow and giving you a chance to change your mind. He loves to flirt and have a good time, but he wants it to be enthusiastic.

Hadn't he caught you staring at his lips maybe fifteen minutes ago? Was it really only just a few dances since then? It seemed like days spent basking in his energy and charm. Ah well. Why the fuck not? The Founding Fathers were all freaks anyway, might as well celebrate their way. "Yes."

Well, sugar…” Jack sweeps his hat off his head and holds it over his heart. “You just made my damn year.” He promises with a wink. “And I guarantee I’ll make yours.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that, cowboy.” Something tells you he’s bragging with plenty of proof to back him up, but you still give him a crooked smile as you dig your phone out of your pocket. “I’m going to tell my friends not to wait for me.”

“I’ll go collect Mr. Bear for you while you do that, sugar.” He nods and sets his hat back on his head and moves away so you can text your friends privately.

Sliding open your phone, the group chat you have with your friends is full of photos, videos, and excitement shared between them during the day. You’ve been apart from them longer than you expected but they seem to be having a ball — though Rum and Tequila don’t feature in any of the photos or videos so it seems like you’re the only one who stuck with an interested fella today.

Don’t wait up for me, ladies. You type out, and send along a selfie of you wearing Jack’s aviators with him picking up your prize bear off the table in the background. Gonna save a horse by riding that cowboy.

The answers that come back are swift and all congratulating you. Teasing you about your quick change of mind.

Yeah, yeah. I’ll give you all the gossip tomorrow. You write back, barely smothering a grin and you have to bite your lip to keep it at bay. I’ll send you guys a photo of his place and the address when we get there. If you never see me again, tell the cops it was the cheesy pickup lines that convinced me to go with him.

Jack watches you giggle as you put your phone away and walks back to your side with the bear. “See? Safe and sound.”

"Both of you." And something tight and gnarled in your heart seems to breathe more easily in a way you don't quite understand. It's an excitement you haven't felt in a very long time. "Lead the way," you say, accepting the bear happily when Jack deposits him in your arms.

“Did you ride with your friends, or do you want to follow me?” Jack’s Bronco is close to the party, having been here for hours bringing in coolers and helping to set up. He pauses by it and taps the side. “Give you a ride to your car if you want?”

“We all rode together, so I guess I have to beg a ride with you.” Saying it out loud makes it feel very real, but for some reason you’re not nervous. There is a tingle of anticipation and excitement but no worries.

Jack nods and opens the door to the passenger side for you. “Then let me give you the address of where we are going.”

“Thank you.” For both the door and for his understanding, you offer him a soft smile as you climb into the Bronco. So many men these days take the sensible precautions of women they’ve just met as an insult. It’s nice to not have to skirt the line and simply be upfront with him.

He smirks at you as he whips out his phone and opens it up to air drop you a location. “Nothing but details, sugar.”

“Which is the same thing the girls are gonna say to me tomorrow,” you tease, sitting back in the buttery soft seats as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“Then I better make sure you got nothin’ but good things to say.” Jack chuckles.

“I guess you’d better.” And you wink, even though the promise makes you squirm slightly in your seat.

“I don’t live too far.” Jack converses as he drives, wanting to you at ease. “That way I can be in the office easily in an emergency.”

“Like oh no, the whiskey isn’t old enough yet?” You ask, confused as to what kind of emergency a distillery could possibly have.

He chuckles. “Or the storage tanks collapsed and flooded the complex in raw, unbarreled whiskey.” He counters. “Thieves. Corporate spies.” He doesn’t get into the extra security Statesman has, that would be a little much for you to understand.

“Corporate spies. Thieves. You make it sound so…” Searching for the word, you notice he never even gets on a highway to get back to his place. He’s simply driving through a suburb as ramblingly as he pleases, and then turns down a long country road. “So very much like the beginning of a self-discovery novel, where the main character is just a lowly employee who finds out their job is really just a cover for something illegal or magical.” Grinning at him, you turn in the front seat and look at him instead of the drive. “Need an accountant? The place sounds fun.”

“Never know, maybe we could.” He chuckles, knowing he would enjoy seeing you around the office more. Might actually want to sit behind his desk more often if he could expect a view like you.

“Never know,” you agree, but your attention is quickly diverted by the little white-painted farmhouse with its picket fence and big shady trees outside that he pulls up beside. “It’s so cute!” You exclaim, having expected to see him living in something huge or deeply masculine. A house you’d see on Yellowstone or picture Clint Eastwood outside.

“Thanks.” He shoots the house a proud smirk. “My great-grandaddy built the place with his own two hands.”

“I love it even more now.” Madi would point out that you’re a sucker for a family story, and she would be right.

Jack is proud of the restoration and tasteful updates that have been done to the old place, an homage to the past. “Then you’ll love it when I tell you that they are buried up on that hill.” He chuckles, pointing to a little fenced off area around a large magnolia tree.

“Being a sentimental man runs in your family. I do like that.” When he pauses in sliding out of the Bronco to open your door and raises an eyebrow at you, you fluster. “Not that I assume you might be sentimental about me,” you clarify immediately. “Just that I appreciate a man who isn’t afraid to be passionate.”

“Sugar, that is something you’ll get to witness firsthand.” He promises as he climbs out and saunters around the front to help you out.

It’s a beautiful little place he’s got, and when he helps you out of the car you can see the wrap around porch does go all the way around, and that the house has been added on to in back. Maybe the second level was an add-on as well, you can’t quite tell. But it speaks to generations of love and stubbornness to stay here and add to this old place instead of moving or building new, and you like that. Loving and stubborn isn’t a bad combination by any means.

“Do you want a drink?” Jack offers. “Water, Coke?” He doesn’t just want to ply you with alcohol, so he offers other things, even though he is walking towards the bar cart in the corner.

“You can make two of whatever you’re drinking.” Whether that’s alcoholic or not, you have a feeling you’ll be putting your glass aside in favor of paying attention to other things soon enough.

“Hmmmm.” The countertop ice maker is put to use after you tell him this and Jack adds a little flair to his movements as combines orange vodka, pineapple juice and peach schnapps into a shaker and mixes it up before straining the cold alcoholic drink into two glasses and floats some blue raspberry vodka onto the top. “Here you go sugar.” He hands it to you with a wink.

“Do you have friends called Vodka and Schnapps, too?” It’s just a light tease, but he poured and mixed and assembled the drink so deliberately that you found yourself mesmerized by his movements. “Or one with the same name as whatever this drink is?”

“There are colleagues by those names.” He admits with a grin and takes a sip of his drink and groans in approval. “But this one was made just for you.” He hum. “I call this ‘Lick Her Right’.”

“Shit, Jack.” You end up smothering flustered giggles as you have your head at him and try a sip of the fruity sweet cocktail. It’s every bit as delicious as you expected and doesn’t taste a thing like alcohol — which probably means it’s the strongest drink you’ve had all day.

He chuckles at your cute little giggle. “Sweet with just a touch of twang,” he murmurs, stepping closer to you and leaning in to nuzzle his nose against your cheek next to your ear. “Just like the best pussy.” He murmurs in your ear. “Like I’m betting your pussy tastes.”

“Need you to do one thing for me before I let you find out,” you murmur, finding that just as you expected you’ve only had a few sips of the drink before something much more enticing has been presented to you.

“And what’s that, sugar?” Right now, he will offer you the moon. Give you whatever he needs to be able to strip off those tiny shorts of yours and drape your legs over his shoulders for a private Independence Day celebration.

“You’re gonna need to kiss me, cowboy.”

He laughs, tossing his head back and reaching up to take off his hat. “Much obliged to, sugar.” He promises before he swoops in for a kiss, his tongue still cold and fruity from the cocktail as he slides it into your mouth.

He’s playful and enthusiastic, two things you all but demand from a lover, and your arms slide around each other with greedy intensity as the rest of the room goes blank around you.

Jack’s drink is all but forgotten when he sets it on the table and pulls you closer, letting your body press against his as he plunders your mouth and groans in happiness that you accepted his invitation to come back to his place.

The half-wall behind you becomes the perfect thing to lean back against as Jack presses in, holding you as close as he is holding the last shred of decency you’ve got as you plunder each other’s mouths eagerly. You’re damn lucky your glasses didn’t get so thoroughly tossed aside that they fell over and stained his rug, but right now all you care about is chasing that sticky sweet taste from each other’s tongues.

His hands slide under your tiny little tank top, fingers pinching the back of your bra strap and unhooking it with one hand while the other slides under the cup to posses one breast. Keeping his tongue tangled with yours as he moans at the soft fullness of it, the hard nipple against his palm.

It's so smooth you might have barely noticed the movement at all, except his hands are hot and callused and the touch of them on your skin makes you moan into the messy kiss with enthusiasm. Nothing but the perfect heat and heaviness of him can penetrate your mind at this point — and that includes the heaviness growing hard in his own shorts as you both do your best to stay as pressed against the other's body as possible.

Jack presses his cock against your tiny shorts, grinding into you as he paws and plucks at your tit, pulling the most beautiful sounds from your throat as he slides his other hand to your neglected breast to give it the same treatment.

Pressed between Jack and the wall, your own hands wander freely. Mapping his body from broad shoulders down to slim waist, there is no hesitation there when you slide one hand into the back pocket of his shorts and pull him forward, inviting him to grind into you just as much as he likes as he swallows your moans.

There’s nothing wrong with a little over the clothing humping in Jack’s mind. Grinding against you and squeezing your tits as he kisses you is just the warm up for the night, although it feels pretty fucking good as you pull him closer.

The world has gone the most gorgeous shade of blank, narrowing down to just Jack, and when you finally can’t breathe in any more of him and have to break the kiss for air, the matching groans you let out are sweeter than any other sound.

You’re gorgeously giving and soft. Yielding to him. He reluctantly releases one breast and pulls back just a bare two inches to slide his hand between to you pop the button open on your shorts. His hand immediately sliding inside to delve into your panties.

“Fucking—” The rest of the curse, whatever it is, gets swallowed up by your moan as his thick fingers make quick work of finding your slick and swollen clit to draw circles around it that have you seeing double.

You’re wet and nothing is sexier to Jack than a wet pussy on an eager woman. He groans into your mouth. “Already so wet.” He rasps. “Want to see how much wetter you can get.”

“Before I dehydrate?” You huff, growling into a kiss with ferocity and angling your hips to try to get him to slide his fingers inside you. Not that it’s been very long at all since he first kissed you, but you’re on fire with wanting him and have been for hours. “Or before you finally fuck me?”

He chuckles into your mouth and bites at your lower lip. “Both?” He teases, rubbing your clit again before he finally gives you what you want and slowly sinks two fingers into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Shaking as he twists his wrist and presses the heel of his palm against your clit, you’re even more pinned against the wall behind you than you were a second ago. Far from finding it confining, your fingers dig into Jack’s broad shoulders with enthusiasm as you cling to him in that moment.

“That’s it.” He groans, feeling your walls pulse around his fingers and he hums in approval. “You’re little pussy likes my fingers.” He coos. “Why don’t you cum on them for me?”

If you could ever cum on command, it would probably be right now. It would be for the pair of thick fingers curled so perfectly inside your cunt every time he pumps them inside you that your vision whites out a little at the edges. It would be for the man who makes you simultaneously tense and limp with need. As it is, your toes are curling in your sneakers and you're about damn ready to flood his hand any second while the only sound you can make as an incoherent moan.

“Sugar, sugar, sugar.” He groans. “You’re so close.” He continues to finger you, loving how your eyes are rolling back. “Just let go and give it to me.” He begs. “I want to strip you down and eat your pussy, but I can’t until you cum for me.”

The absolute whimper of frustration on your lips and hearing what's coming next mighty really be what does it. What has you moaning his name into the warm evening air and holding onto him so tightly that your fingernails leave neat little half-moon shapes at the base of his skull. When you cum it's full force, with shaking legs and an arching back, and all you can think — when you eventually get your thoughts back after the fireworks subside in all your nerves — is how fucking glad you are that you took a chance on going home with this man.

Jack loves to see a woman cum. Always beautiful and you are no exception. The hollow of your throat is the perfect place to moan his praise, the white shorts he’s wearing becoming damp and showing it as he leaks pre-cum into the material. His fingers are soaked and making the most obscene sounds as he pumps them into your cunt until your entire body sags against the wall and is only held upright by his pinning you there. Then he slows his wrist and ease you to a stop as you pant his name. “Good girl.” Jack rasps against your throat. “Now I want to see what kind of mess your pussy made.”

“You’re gonna have to give me a second,” you huff, giggling under your own breath and a little dizzy. If he can do that with his hand, the rest of him is going to reduce you to a puddle. “Stripping is tricky when my legs are wobbly.”

He chuckles and pulls his hand out of your shorts to grab your thighs. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.” He promises, pulling you up into his arms and guiding your legs around his waist as he pulls away from the wall to carry you through the house to his bedroom.

It only encourages you, which you’re sure was his intention, you steal kisses and swoon at this strength as you carries you down a hallway. By the time he turns into his room you’ve found the spot on the long column of his throat that makes him moan when you suck on it, and the bruise you’ve left there will be sure you remind of you every time he looks in a mirror for at least the next few days.

Jack’s bed is large, inviting and it’s not as heavily masculine as you might expect. The comforter is pillowy when he lays you down and smirks as he pulls back to look at you. “Now it’ll be easy to strip you down and not worry about those legs, except for how they look on my shoulders.” He boasts.

“I think I’m past the point in my dignity where I can dispute that,” you tease, wishing he hadn’t stood up fully because now he’s too far away for you to grab.

Jack unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off his shoulders. Revealing the shape of his hard cock pressing through the white shorts and he grins down at you. “We will just have to have an undignified time then.”

“Deeply undignified, I hope.” You agree, letting your eyes wander down the length of his body and darken all over again at the sight of what is waiting for you.

“Is there any other kind of sex?” Jack snorts, quickly unbuttoning and stripping down his shorts to groan in relief when his cock bounces free.

If you were going to debate with him, whatever argument you had gets lost on your tongue. He's a mouthwatering sight — veiny, cut, and curved just right so you know you're not only going to have him pulsing against your g-spot later but you're going to be cross-eyed and breathless while he's at it. "Fuck I hope not," you grin, licking your lips. "At least not tonight."

He smirks proudly and kneels on the bed, shuffling closer to reach for your shorts. He drags them over your hips along with your panties while you lift your hips so he can slide them down your legs and toss them on the floor. Eager to spread your thighs and get a good look at that slick pussy.

Sure it was only five minutes ago that your legs were shaking in his living room, but when he very surely moves your ankles to open your legs wide on top of his bed, your fingers drop between your spread legs without hesitation. His eyes on your pussy have you craving touch all over again.

There’s only your shirt left and Jack hates for the material to conceal your tits from his eyes, so he slides his hands up, grabbing the hem of it to pull over your head, unable to resist dipping his head down and lapping at a hard nipple.

It was barely a scrap of a shirt and this is so much better — tits free for his attention and back arching up to meet his mouth just as eagerly as he dips his head. The cool air in his room makes your already hard nipples peak even tighter, but all you can think about is the heat of his mouth and the heaviness against your thigh. Every inch of him feels incredible and he's not even inside you yet.

He lavished attention on one, then the other before he pulls away with a pop and a grin as he starts to slink back down your body. Intentions clear as he scrapes his teeth over the top of your mound and pulls your legs up onto his shoulders to cradle his head.

"Jack..." his name is a whine from your lips as he kisses the insides of his thighs, and one of your hands fists in his hair to tug encouragingly at the short strands.

He chuckles and blows a little air on your pussy to hear you whine again, your hips jerking up to try to meet his mouth. “Now, let’s get down to the business at hand.” He intones seriously. “You’ve got a pretty pussy that is begging to be eaten.” He looks up into your eyes and winks. “And I’m just the cowboy for the job.”

He dives in like a man starved, making you feel like every single woman whose pussy he tried to eat over the years must have denied him otherwise there wouldn't be any reason to be this voracious. That first lap at your slit has you gasping sharply, eyes rolling back in your head and tugging tighter on his hair in needy, silent gratitude. You'll be lucky if you can form any words beyond his name in all this. His name and endless repetitions of 'yes' or 'fuck'. But that's all you need.

Anything that Jack sets out to do, he does with vigor and eating your pussy is no different. His hands are wrapped around your thighs, pulling your hips up to his month as he devours you. Wanting to feel the sting of your hands pulling at his hair while his tongue carves a path through your folds.

He means to overwhelm your senses entirely and he's doing a damn good job, right down to how tightly he manages to hold you in place while he leaves no part of your soaking wet pussy untouched. Maybe at another time you might have fought of wrestled or taken some of the lead, but he's swept you away so entirely today that all of your usual sass is reduced to whimpers and moans under his attention. Probably because the attention of that long tongue of his is well worth submitting to.

He had been right, you do taste delicious. Making him even more ravenous as he explores what makes you whimper and whine his name as his tongue laps at your swollen clit.

Every time your hips twist or roll to beg for a specific kind of friction. he seems to be anticipating it. He reads the waves of your body like it's a second language, intuiting what you need and giving it to you with growls and groans of his own that vibrate through you and make you see wave after wave of stars.

His mustache is coated with your juices, his chin slick with them, and still he continues to devour you. Licking into you and pushing his tongue into your pussy like he is starved for you, his hooked nose pressed against your clit as he groans in pleasure.

It doesn’t matter how long you lay spread out like this. Or how long Jack spends devouring you like you’re his new favorite dessert. The walls could crumble down around you and you would still be begging for more.

Jack can feel your body start to tense, your thighs tightening around his head briefly and then relaxing only to do it again. He holds them loosely, wanting you to squeeze him and he rolls his tongue back up to your clit to lap at it.

The second time you cum for him isn't like being carried away on an ocean wave. Even the arch of your back is like being washed out to sea, and the roaring of your blood in your ears making you feel like you've just crashed on top of a wave in some dramatic engraving. It's like all of your senses are both being hugged tight and being blasted wide open and you're drowning in every sensation but your nerves are tingling with life as you float back down to earth in his bed.

Humming softly, the pads of his thumbs rub your inner thighs, soothing you as your breath starts to slow down. You had screamed loud enough to wake the dead. A feat that has Jack feeling mighty smug as he watches your closed eyes bounce around under your lids.

"Fucking hell," you manage, once you stop panting and have the presence of mind to push up on your elbows to be able to see him more fully.

Smirking up at you, he winks as he unfurls himself from between your thighs to rest on his knees. “How are we doing so far?” He asks, even though he knows the answer. “Feeling patriotic yet? Or should we really make you see fireworks?”

"I think we'd both be missing out if we gave up now." After all, you've barely done a thing for him. And if his cock feels half as good as it looks, you refuse to miss out on that.

“I have to admit, I’m dying to know what you feel like around my cock.” Jack confesses, his hand squeezing his cock and pumping it lightly.

"I think it's time for you to find out." There is a smirk curling in the corner of your mouth as you sit up, and with one hand beckon him closer. "Don't you?"

“Yes ma’am.” He hums. “Do you want to save or horse, or see if I can hold on for eight seconds?” His brow arches in question and he wonders what you will say.

“On your back, Jack.” You grin up at him, already shifting over to switch places. Even if this isn’t where you end up, you want to ride that handsome cowboy for at least a little while.

“Never say I don’t follow a lady’s orders.” Jack drawls as he lays down, tucking one hand behind his head and the other still pumping his cock languidly.

“Not if you know what’s good for you.” That smirk stays in place as you straddle his hips and lift yourself up, braced for your cunt to be so wet from his attention that he slides inside you right up to your throat.

Jack helps, holding his cock up for you line up. “Take your time, sugar.” He coos, watching you with a predatory gaze. “It takes time to make sure you are seated right.”

“Not too long.” A moan escapes your lips as you sink down, but you take him at a slow, steady pace. “I’ve been thinking about this all damn day.”

“And here I thought I couldn’t be the one to break your dry streak.” He teases, having read your lips from the margarita stand with the assistance of his glasses. He had turned off the special features before he put them on your nose earlier.

“Were you spyin’ on me earlier?” The best you can do with him halfway inside you is to raise one eyebrow as if you vaguely disapprove, but it doesn’t hold a single drop of water when you let out a shuddering little gasp and take more.

“I can read lips.” He admits with a grin. “Don’t worry, sugar, I didn’t hold it against you. Just made me want you more.”

"Now I feel like I ought to have made it harder for you," you purr, but the truth is that he'd had you from the first real smile. Not the smirks, not the intrigue of just being handsome in general. The first time Jack genuinely smiled at you, you had felt your heart beat a little faster. Now it's your pussy that's reacting to him, though, and you shift your weight to lean back and give him a long view of your whole body as you start to bounce on his cock. Whatever his reason for being interested in you, it is well worth it.

“Jesus Christ.” Jack hisses, sliding his hands up to your tits again. “You are such a pretty thing, so fucking beautiful.” He groans, admiring the view as you use him.

"View can't be as good as mine." Panting between each word is the only way to get them out, because your mind is so fuzzy all over again from how good he feels that all you can focus on is how well he fills you.

He would have to disagree, but you steal his ability to speak when you roll your hips and squeeze him tight. All he can do is groan and squeeze your tits harshly before sliding his hands down to your hips.

"Hold on, handsome." It doesn't take more than a few movements of your hips to establish a rhythm, and one that you're both thoroughly enjoying. With Jack's fingers curling insistently into your flesh, you pick up the pace and let your eyes slide shut in bliss.

Jack groans your name again and again when you fully seat him inside you. Giving you the encouragement and praise through the panted words.

It's a damn good thing that his bed isn't an antique like his house. Once you get going, with his encouragements and your own seemingly insatiable thirst for this man, it would be a damn shame to sacrifice an heirloom to your shared lust. The sheer power and force of your enthusiasm with his strength makes it feel like you're going to fuck each other into the stratosphere to begin with, there's no reason to lose furniture.

“That’s it, sugar.” Jack slaps your flank in encouragement and moans when you roll your hips down at little harder. “Fuck, you do know how to ride a man, don’t you?” He counts his lucky stars you wanted to come home with him. “Ride me hard.”

He might have been the one to make the joke about lasting the length of the ride, but you have no intention of getting bucked while you're on him. The prominent veins of his cock scrub your walls like they were made for you, bringing deeps moans and shuddering growls of his name from your lips with every bounce and rock of your body on his.

Bracing his feet on the bed, Jack tilts his hips up, changing the angle and he chokes out a sound of approval when you squeal in pleasure. “There it is.”

It's the exact angle you need to have the head of his cock battering against your g-spot with just the right amount of pressure, and right now you're prepared to swear that no one has ever managed to find the spot that perfectly before. Just like his fingers curling against it earlier, your vision whites out as your eyes slide shut again and you could swear this is what being on fire feels like as you cry his name out in that quiet little farmhouse.

When your pace stalls, Jack picks up the slack. Driving up into you while your walls convulse and you shake on top of him. Groaning out your name raspily as he works himself towards that same peak you are currently cresting.

It's so easy to fall forward, bracing yourself on his chest with both hands and letting him take over the pace. Your third orgasm ripples through you so sharply and definitively that you practically scream, but his arms are there to catch you and pin you to his chest while he races toward his own pleasure.

It only takes a few driving thrusts until his holding you tight, locking his arms around you and grinding up into you. Your name is moaned into his ear as he floods your fluttering pussy with his cum. “Fuck sugar.” He groans. “Little pussy is milking my cock like a dream.”

"I'm afraid..." You're both panting, and you rest your forehead on his rising chest for a beat and giggle to yourself. The flow of endorphins is making you feel so light you could fly. "I've been neglecting her. She was hungry."

“Pussy like that needs to be seen to frequently.” Jack chuckles breathlessly and strokes your back as the sweat clinging to your bodies starts to dry and cool. “I’ll be happy to make sure that happens.”

"Oh yeah?" In the bliss of the moment, when you pull back to look him in the eye, it's like you're seeing a completely different side of the needy and addictive man who was pushing you up against a wall a mere hour ago. This Jack is soft at the edges, boyish and gleeful, not to mention beautifully relaxed as he cradles your body against him. "Thinkin' about asking me out, cowboy?"

“Considering it.” He admits before that soft smile curves into more of a smirk. “I think it would be my patriotic booty to keep you satisfied.” It’s the repeat of the joke from earlier, but completely worth it because of how cheesy it is. “What do you say, sugar?” He asks. “Want to make everyday Independence Day?”

"I think it's only right." Stretching slightly, the tip of your nose nearly touches his and you dip your head barely lower to hover above his mouth. A single centimeter of movement and you would be kissing him. "It'd be a damn shame to never ride my new favorite steed again."

“Damn shame.” He agrees. Since you’ve been in his house, the sun has slipped below the horizon and he reaches up to cup your cheek just as the first muted boom of the fireworks from Statesman is heard. “Happy Fourth of July, sugar.” Jack murmurs before he crushes his lips to yours, happy that he had decided to go to the celebration rather than taking a mission. He had never had a better Fourth than this one.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

[naffeclipse]

Heya, @sparkym00n, I'm your Secret Skeleton! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you enjoy Sun/Moon with a reader who loves scary movies and helps them pass out candy to trick-or-treaters!

Scaredy Clown

Sun/Moon & Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: ~3,800 Warnings: N/A

A scream erupts from the TV. On the screen, the victim is savagely stabbed by the killer doll she didn’t see hiding just beneath the table. No matter how often you warn her not to go into the kitchen, she does it anyway.

You’ve seen this a dozen times before—perhaps in part because it is your favorite scary movie. Even after all these years, it never gets old. The practical efforts are still solid, and the story remains buried within you, waiting to emerge every autumn and whisper to revisit the film. 

What better time to enjoy it than on Halloween?

Walking out of the kitchen, Sun stops and stares with mild concern tugging down on his smile. The October sunlight is warm while the air is cool, and you’re snuggled deep into a blanket on the couch, looking back at your animatronic roommate. You give him a sheepish grin in return.

“Friend, isn’t it a little early to watch such a dark film?” He holds a few orange sheets of crafting paper in his hands which he neatly stacks until each page is even with the next. “I appreciate that you’re getting into the Halloween spirit but I would like to organize the kids’ materials without hearing someone get murdered at eight o’clock in the morning.”

You glance at your phone and sure enough, it is bright and early on October 31st. 

“Sure, Sunny,” you say with a contrite laugh. You click pause on the remote. “I just thought you said you would watch it with me.”

“We did say we would,” he gives pointedly, though you’re not certain if the uncertain flicker of his optics to the screen is just your imagination playing tricks on you so early on the trick-or-treat day. “But after daycare and after we hand out candy to kids.”

Your smile softens as you look over him. He’s even wearing a little costume, with an eyepatch waiting to be drawn down one optic and a little stuffed parrot perched on the white and rough shirt of a pirate.

“Sure, buddy.” You slip off of the couch, stretching your arms high above your head. A soft groan escapes you as you loosen your limbs. You glance back at Sun. “You look good by the way. The kids are going to love you, captain.”

Sun’s white teeth stretch into a full-blown grin. There it is. He hooks one finger, squeezes one eye, and comically growls, “Argh, me matey.”

You snicker. “Save it for the kids.”

“Argh, but me first mate must be in the spirit of the ghoulish gathering so early, and so must I!”

“Stop,” you try to hide your laughter but your shoulders shake. Slipping a hand over your mouth, your smile slips through. “Aren’t you running late?”

Sun straightens, snapping from Foxy the pirate to the daycare owner who needs to get to his job. “Oh, look at the time! You’re right. I’ll see you later. Please do the dishes in the sink and I’ll take care of cleaning up the counters after I get home.”

You reach the kitchen as Sun zigs back to the little box on the counter. It’s filled to the brim with special Halloween stickers, orange and black paper, and scissors with pumpkins on the end of the handles. A few treats are tucked inside, including a bag of sugar-free, one regular, and one little bag of carrots in colorful jack-o-lanterns for every kid and whatever their needs require. 

“Will do.” You lean against the entryway. “Have a good day, Sunny.”

“You as well.” He lifts his head as he hauls up his container. “Happy Halloween! Don’t forget your costume.”

You wave him away as he slips out the door into the crisp autumn air. You glance around the kitchen, dirty and in need of attention. Still, the thought of chores does little to dampen your grin of anticipation.

It’s your day off, miraculously in line with the sugar-filled holiday. 

Your roommate will return soon enough. Eager for an easy day and to celebrate something with your dear friend, you mentally plot out the rest of your day. A fairy costume awaits you for the events of the evening, but what you’re looking forward to is the night after the lights have been turned off and it’s time to crash on the couch and show Moon your favorite movie. You’ve talked it up so much, you hope they can at least enjoy it with you if only to see why you are the way you are.

Until then, you’ll surprise Sun by getting his chores done as well. You’ve got nothing but time and a track of Halloween songs to help you cruise through the day.

*

You’ve started counting how many groups of children knock on your door with FazCo Halloween baskets and hide behind masks from the old era of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. 

There are many Freddy’s, of course, with little bear ears and some even have a mic to accompany them. Old-style Chica pops up now and then with girls that have their hair in pigtails. Once, Foxy the pirate appears, an older boy who has red hair and a big grin hiding under his mask. A few Roxannes appear while parents happily stand back to let the kids knock on your door or older siblings begrudgingly wait, seeming to wish to be anywhere but here. You even see Bonnie on a dad who slings a plastic red guitar over his back and welcomes back his daughter who’s dressed as Ballora. 

You stand beside Sun as the early and youngest kids arrive for candy before the October daylight sinks. Cooing at the costumes, you admire the children. When a kid asks you to guess who they are, you hem and haw in deep thought before the Sun lends you a helpful guess. The kids giggle before snatching a treat and racing back down the front porch.

“They’re being very good tonight,” Sun says as he gently closes the door. With one hand, he fixes the parrot on his shoulder so the yellow peak is facing forward once more, “So many ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s!”

“Yeah,” you say softly, afraid you sound absentminded. You’ve been wondering all evening if anyone would be dressed as the Daycare Attendant back before the mega Pizzaplex burnt down. You almost ask if Sun is disappointed. Instead, you steal a piece of candy and unwrap it.

Sun covers your hand. He tilts his head, one optic pale and milky while the other is covered by a black eyepatch. “You didn’t say trick or treat.”

You stick out your tongue and quickly pop the tootsie roll in your mouth. “Trick.”

“Where are your manners?” he wags his finger at you before a ringing doorbell spares you from his lighthearted rebukes.

The sun drops and bleeds into a darkness thick and befitting for such an enchanting night. Moon pops out, his head spinning in greeting to older kids who stiffen in the slightest before they bust out a grin. Your roommate uses a soft, gentle voice with younger ones when they hesitate to reach up and fish around for candy out of the big orange plastic tub Moon holds.

A few children compliment your fairy costume. You thank them while boldly twirling to show off the translucent mesh of the wings. You even hold a little wand in your hand, a makeshift paint brush with blues and reds and yellows still stained on the bristles, but for any of the curious little ones who ask, you say that you’re a paint fairy. You fix things with paint! They buy it well enough. Sun was the one who helped you pick the purple fabric of your attire and made sure the wings fit on your back without drooping and Moon helped you bring your wand to life with dye.

Again, you count dozens of children wearing Glamrock Freddy masks and one kid with an elaborate Montgomery Gator costume complete with a green tail and a big purple bass hanging off of his shoulder. 

They both run off, almost bumping into another trick-or-treater who stands frozen in place. A little girl. You pause, confused. There’s plenty of candy left, and you open your mouth to say so but stop short.

She whimpers at the bottom of the steps. Moon straightens from the hunched position he had used on the group of older kids who are now retreating down the sidewalk, and he fixes his hat slightly. His nightcap is replaced with a black tricorn leather piece, the kind pirates wear. 

“I can…” you hold out your hand for the bucket of candy. You flicker your eyes back and forth between the girl and her mother who is now kneeling beside her, whispering encouragement into her ear.

A firm look from your dear friend gives you a reason to stay put.

Moon’s red optics soften as he crouches down, eye level with the child. It amazes you to see how small the lanky animatronic can make himself. In a gentle, low, but clear voice, he asks, “Would you like some candy?”

The girl jumps slightly. She’s dressed in a little princess costume, her dress red and her crown a golden plastic tiara. Her mother nods with a gentle smile.

You stand still, waiting with your hands clasped tightly behind your back. A lurch in your heart wonders how Moon will take it if the girl bursts into tears and runs away. It’s terrifying to watch—not like a horror movie where you’re sitting on the couch, safely tucked back from the events playing on the screen. You’re watching it unfold in real-time. You don’t want to witness it end in tragedy but you can’t avert your eyes as Moon gently holds out the orange container with black pumpkins plastered over it.

“Go on,” the little girl’s mother says.

She takes a brave step up, and up, clinging to her mother’s hand. She stops before Moon, halfway hiding her face against her mother’s leg while gazing at Moon.

“Welcome, princess,” Moon bows his head, rolling a little pirate accent in respect. “You must require the greatest candy that only your royal highness can afford. Please, would you take but one of my humble offerings?”

She giggles, partly stilted as if she’s not sure whether to be afraid anymore. 

You keep glancing at him, wondering if this is alright. Does it hurt to see children afraid? Even for a moment? You can’t tell. Moon is so difficult to read.

“Are you a good clown or a bad clown?” the little girl finally asks in a tiny voice. Her big eyes stare up at him with earnest innocence.

“I’m a good one! I swear upon my heart, princess.” He dramatically lays his hand over his white, billowy shirt. “See?”

She looks back once more to her mother before she bravely steps forward. Moon tips the bowl forward so she might choose. She quickly plucks one wrapped sweet and ducks back to her mother.

“Happy Halloween,” Moon says gently.

The girl flashes a small smile, and the fear in her eyes lessens before she hurries away with her mother.

Moon straightens. Though he grins silver teeth in a never-ending smile, you can’t see if he’s upset.

Quietly, you touch Moon’s arm. His shoulder twitches but he doesn’t look at you.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly. “I can hand out the candy next time if you prefer.”

“It’s nothing new.” Moon’s faceplate swivels back to you now. His red optics burn low, settling over you with a dusting of crimson. “Kids are afraid of me.”

“Not all of them,” you say quickly. You then bite your bottom lip. Are you making things worse or better?

“No. Not all of them.” Moon looks down at the candy bowl and flicks through a few before he finds a little orange-wrapped peanut butter cup. He holds it out to you. “Even at the Pizzaplex, sometimes kids would cry when it was naptime.”

“I’m sorry, Moon.” You hold his gaze, then glance down to the candy. You try to take it but he slips it back just before your fingers can pinch it. You shoot him a disgruntled look.

He grins wildly, his hat tilting with the roll of his head. 

“You didn’t say trick-or-treat,” he laughs, mischievous and deep.

You stick your tongue out.

“No treats for naughty children.” Moon tucks the peanut butter cup away behind his back. “You can have it when you ask politely.”

“First off, not a kid, second off, I think you’re avoiding the subject.”

“Not avoiding,” he sing-songs in his gravelly voice, “just changing it.”

He pauses. You follow his gaze out to the street where you see two little children skipping between their parents. One wears a mask with Sun’s face on it, and the other wears Moon’s. You almost fall while staring.

Oh. That’s sweet.

You hope.

Moon chuckles once and gently closes the door in anticipation of another child coming down the walkway. You take it as a good sign.

Fine. You’ll bite. You face Moon, and with exaggerated reluctance, say “Trick-or-treat. Please.”

He chuckles before tossing the peanut butter cup to you. You catch it and quickly rip it open, devouring it before the doorbell rings—another round of trick-or-treaters.

“Happy Halloween,” he rasps before opening the door.

~

You check the front porch one last time. The street lies empty and you find a few neighbors flicking off their lights and drawing down curtains. No more kids run up and down the sidewalk. Jack-o-lanterns are slowly eating up the wick and leaving nothing but a puddle of wax in the gourds of their mouths. A cold wind blows through, pushing up leaves and a few unfortunate candy wrappers.

“That should be it.” You flick the front lights off and lock the door with a heavy click. You turn on your heels and face Moon, beaming wide as you shake your shoulders once to wiggle your fairy wings in excitement. “Ready for our movie?”

His smile is unmoving. Red eyes, piercing the slight low light of the entryway give you pause before he dips his head. Slowly, he removes the pirate patch eye.

“Yes,” he rasps. 

You whoop once in glee before rushing into the kitchen to start popcorn. The quiet echo of Moon’s laughter sounds behind you, but it stops short, off-kilter.

A few minutes later, you’re on the couch with a soft blanket and a bowl of popcorn in your lap. Moon crosses his legs beside you, having lost most of his pirate costume. The little parrot on his shoulder remains. It looks funny, perched there in a frozen state of fake feathers and black beady eyes. Moon moves it slightly and makes a squawk to startle you just as the film opens up with the title screen.

You swat at his metallic hands then rethink it and toss your blanket over his head. That does the trick.

Then the first scene begins with the opening scene panning upon an older house.

“Pay attention, you’re going to miss it!” you harshly whisper, straightening to attention. 

Moon snickers as he drags the blanket down his face. His fingers curl over the edge. 

“Too scary, too scary!” he mockingly wails before you toss popcorn at him. It bounces off the billowy white shirt of his half-put-together costume. He arches his brow at you.

“You said you would watch it with me,” your tone inches into a whine. This is supposed to be fun.

Moon pats your head before you again, shove his arm away.

“We did,” Moon relents with a dramatic sigh. “Why a movie about a possessed doll?”

“Because possessed killer dolls are scary. Especially when they’re chasing you.” You pop a handful of your buttery snack into your mouth. “Shush. This is where he gets—just watch!”

Moon reclines into the couch and finally holds still. His nightcap, replacing his pirate hat, dangles over the end of his shoulder. Curiously, you glance at him between scenes. He’s unmoving. A few jumpscares happen, and while they used to get you the first few times you watched it, not anymore. Strangely, Moon doesn’t jump either. His fists, however, clenched tight.

The movie plays on, and you get lost in it once more.

By the time the final girl makes it out alive and the evil killer is defeated, you’re sinking low into the cushions and letting loose a yawn.

“So?” You yawn again. Turning to Moon, you smirk. “What did you think?”

Moon stares straight ahead at the screen. The credits roll and you realize he was clutching fistfuls of his starry pants when he releases the fabric. The deep blue and yellow star print is crumpled.

“Scary,” he says deadpan. “How are you going to sleep tonight?”

“Just fine,” you laugh. “It’s pretty freaky, isn’t it?”

He offers a nonchalant hum. You get to your feet, putting the popcorn bowl aside. You’ll clean it up with the rest of the Halloween decorations in the morning. 

“Come on, buddy. Do you need to charge?” you ask while stretching your arms above your head. You had hoped for a little more comment about one of your favorite movies, but the day has worn away your energy and you’re more than ready to hit the hay. You’ll get more of his thoughts about it tomorrow.

“No. We’re fine until tomorrow evening,” he answers. 

Good, then he’s free to…

You feel a shadow close beside you. Glancing back, you discover Moon looming at your shoulder. You stare at him.

“Do you need something?” you ask, brow crinkling.

He says nothing. Which is not unusual for Moon. He’ll avoid your questions when he doesn’t feel like answering or just to annoy you. It’s hard to tell. You roll your eyes and shrug.

“I’m going to bed then.” You take a step away.

No answer. Moon keeps in time with you, still hovering well within reach but never actually brushing against you.

You look at him again briefly as you shuffle down the hall that leads to the bathroom and your two bedrooms. Moon doesn’t necessarily need to sleep, but they’ve told you in the past that it can relieve some pressure to ‘doze’ for an hour or two. 

You brush your teeth while Moon funnily stands in the doorway, like a guard dog waiting for a threat to approach. Finished with your nightly routine, you slip to your bedroom where Moon continues to hover. You finally stop and face him completely.

“What is it?”

He stares at you, his fingers curling up and down.

“Come on, tell me.” You put a hand on your hip. “What is it that you tell your daycare kids? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong?”

A scowl crosses his faceplate. He starts picking at his pirate shirt, staring down at the fluff fabric bunched on the chest while you stand there. You can wait all night. You’ve never seen him so agitated before.

Was it that little girl earlier?

Slowly, Moon lifts his head. His nightcap bell falls from his shoulder and down his back with a soft jingle. 

“Can we stay with you tonight?” he asks in a quiet voice.

You blink. 

Sun’s expression from this morning returns to the front of your mind. The uncertain glance he spared the TV screen despite reassuring you they are planning on watching the movie with you.

“Are you…?” You stop, eyes wide.

“No,” Moon growls then shakes his head, clutching at his hat in a mimic of someone pulling at the roots of their hair in utter frustration. “Forget it.”

“No, no, it’s alright.” You touch his arm and he stops, halfway in the hall and half in your bedroom. “My bed’s a little small but we can both fit.”

He seems to teeter, almost swaying as if to bolt away and never look back, but he slowly turns to face you.

“Will you be comfortable with us that close?”

You laugh gently. “Buddy, it’s no big deal. Come on. What are roommates for, am I right?”

He stares at you. You crack a big smile to chip through his rigidness. The joke falling a little flat aside, Moon begrudgingly allows you to tug him towards your bed. You don’t flip the light on for his sake, and instead quickly throw on pajama bottoms with his back turned to you.

“We didn’t have to watch the movie, you know.” You finish fixing the waistband of your pants on your hips. “It wouldn’t have hurt my feelings. We could have watched something else.”

“It’s your favorite,” he says so simply, it gives you pause. You glance over your bed to where he stands, clutching a fistful of your pillow in his hand. “We wanted to experience it with you.”

You sigh gently. A gentle warmth spills into you, and you wonder how you found such a friend.

“Thanks. Next time, we’ll do something that you like, okay?”

“Sure.”

Moon pulls the blankets back, and at the silent invitation, you slip into bed. Moon carefully settles down beside you on top of the covers. He curls himself carefully around you, giving you space to toss and turn on the mattress until your head lies gently on your pillow. He doesn’t touch one inch of you despite so little space. Is he uncomfortable? When you lift your eyes to find him in the dark, the red glow startles you so badly that you almost bite your tongue.

“Are you going to fall off the bed?” you ask, bewildered.

“No.” He grabs the fake parrot on his shoulder and takes it off. Without looking, he sets it down on your nightstand.

“Okay.” You pause, chewing on your lip. “Are you scared?”

“Stop.” A hand covers your face as if forcibly closing your eyelids will make the question go away. “Sleep.”

“Just—can you tell me you’re okay, at least?” you ask, muffled underneath his silicon palm. “I don’t want my friends to be terrified because we did something that I like.”

The quiet settles as heavy as the night. For a long time, you don’t move, caught under his hand and held still by the urge to not shake the bed unnecessarily by squirming under the covers.

“We’re fine,” Moon says softly. “Now.”

You breathe a gentle breath of relief.

“Okay. Thanks for telling me. Goodnight, Moon.” You gently slide his hand off your face and give him a smile in the dark. He can see it, can’t he? “Sweet dreams.”

He doesn’t dream, but you want to say it all the same.

“Sweet dreams,” he murmurs as you finally drift off into the darkness.

[oceane4loveu]

kpop idols workout routine

Hanni Workout

•30 sec crunch

•30 sec 90 degree crunch

•30 sec plank

•30 sec rocking plank

•30 sec plank twist (each side)

•30 sec bicycle crunch

•30 sec mountain climbers

Le sserafim workout

•100 jumping jacks

•4 x 25 burpees

•2 x 10 jump squats

•1 song plank crawl

•2 x 10 plank up and down

•2 x 10 plank twist

•75 crunches

Kazuha Workout

•20 leg raise

•20 scissor kicks

•20 leg stretch

•20 Russian twist

•20 plank twist

•20 side leg crunch (each side)

Karina Workout

•10 x 2 sumo squats

•10 x 2 wide squats

•10 squats 12 hip abduction (each side)

•15 donkey kicks (each side)

•12 side plank dip (each side)

•10 burpee

wonyoung Workout

•30 sec leg raise

•30 sec leg circle (each side)

•30 sec tree (each side)

•30 sec glute bridge

•30 sec swan

•30 sec side band (each side)

•30 sec thigh stretch

Jungkook workout

•20 squats

•20 push-ups

•20 jump squats

•10 planks

•20 mountain climbers

•15 burpees

•20 crunches

•20 leg lifts

•20 Superman's

Jennie Pilates Workout

•30s | WUNDATWISTS (left)

•30s | WUNDATWISTS (right)

•30s | SIDE KICK KNEELING (right)

•30s | SIDE KICK KNEELING (left)

15 seconds BREAK

•30s | DOWNWARD DOG LEG LIFT (right)

•30s | DOWNWARD DOG LEG LIFT (left)

•30s | DOWNWARD DOG AB CRUCH (right)

•30s | DOWNWARD DOG AB CRUCH (left)

15 seconds BREAK

•30s | JACK KNIFE

•30s | ONE LEGGED WHEEL (right)

•30s | ONE LEGGED WHEEL (left)

•30s | BOW POSE

•30s | DANCER POSE (right)

•30s | DANCER POSE (left)

[lordprettyflackotara]

dollhouse || jeff the killer || part five

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: bondage, face fucking, jealousy sex

"Are you sure this is absolutely necessary?"

Jeff squirmed in his chair, his arms crossing sassily. You stood behind him, putting your hand on your hip.

"Trust me when I tell you that you're doing the world a favor," You countered. Jeff grumbled under his breath, allowing you to continue the task at hand. You readjusted your grip on the kitchen scissors in your hand, picking up another piece of Jeff's hair. You snipped at it carefully, Jeff's gaze forced to center on the kitchen window.

He watched Sally play soccer with Laughing Jack and Jill, who were visiting for the weekend. They typically stayed at the Trenderman mansion, one of Slenderman's better brothers. Jeff wasn't too big of a fan of them visiting, but Jeff wasn't too big of a fan of anything. Including the haircut you were giving him. "My haircut is apart of my branding you know. Everyone knows me by my hair," Jeff argued. Despite his argumentative tongue, he stayed seated and unmoving.

"Right, its totally not the large smile carved into your cheeks or the lack of eyelids," You agreed, smirking to yourself as you snipped another piece of Jeff's hair. Ben strolled into the kitchen, taking one look at Jeff's frown and giggling to himself. "Something funny Ben?" Jeff asked. Ben's gaze fell to the fridge and its contents, the blonde rummaging through it to search for non expired food.

"Oh nothing, it's just great to see you're changing your emo haircut after a decade. Never thought you'd grow out of it. Good job y/n."

Jeff gritted his teeth, a giggle escaping your lips. It was then the back door opened, revealing The Bloody Painter. His signature mask had been lifted and secured to his head, revealing his face. His bright blue eyes met yours, his gaze centering on you. "Well hello there y/n. You've matured quite a lot since the last time I saw you," He said, giving you a bright smile. Jeff didn't fail to notice this, his eyes narrowing. "Thanks. Living in a mansion full of boys will do that to you," You replied kindly. You continued to trim the ends of Jeffs hair, Ben slamming the fridge and grabbing a box of cereal. The Painter looked over at your steady hands, watching you trim Jeff's hair.

"I didn't know you cut hair," The Painter commented. You could hear Ben begin to crunch on his cereal, eating it by the handful. "She only cuts mine," Jeff barked. The Bloody Painter kept his cool, hardly acknowledging Jeff's matter of fact statement. "Well thats a shame, maybe you can make an exception sometime and cut mine," The Painter suggested. Jeff rose from his chair, shooting daggers at The Painter as he turned around. In a swift motion he grabbed your hand, dragging you out of the kitchen. "Jeff! I wasn't done!" You whined, scissors still in hand. He dragged you through the living room, his patience running too thin to make it to his bedroom. "Don't worry doll, i'll make sure you finish," Jeff growled.

He found the closest bathroom, opening the door and shoving you inside. You set the scissors aside, your arms crossing as Jeff shut the door and locked it. "Whats your problem? I only cut like half of that section!" You hissed. Jeff grabbed you by your throat, his fingers curling so intensely around your skin you audibly whimpered. "Do you get off on entertaining other guys? Hmm? Is that it?" He snarled. Your eyes widened, Jeff pushing you against the bathroom counter. You began to question him, the pale killer cutting you off before you could make a sound. "That stupid Painter was eye fucking you. How did you not see that?" Jeff questioned. He squeezed your neck tighter, a small whimper escaping your lips as you became light headed.

"Oh I see. Does seeing me get all hot and bothered rile my girl up? Make you all wet for me?" Jeff purred. You hadn't even thought of it that way, but your core only began throbbing more when Jeff planted his knee in between your thighs. "Well thats too damn bad. Knees, now," He ordered, shoving you down towards the floor. Your knees hit the tile harshly, promising to leave bruises the next day. You began to reach to fiddle with his belt. the pale killer slapping your hand away. "Did I say you could use your hands? Stupid slut," Jeff spat. He undid his own belt, admiring your eyes gleaming with submission.

"I-I just assumed-" You stuttered, Jeffs hand gripping your chin cutting you off. "I-I-I," Jeff mocked you. He bent over, grabbing your wrist and holding them behind your back. "All I need from you is to put your pretty mouth to use," Jeff said. He used his belt to tie your hands behind your back, your mouth running dry as you looked up at him. He undid his pants, his cock hard and leaking precum in front of your face. "Go on, make yourself useful," Jeff taunted. You kitten licked his slit, the pale killer holding back a groan. He grabbed your head roughly, forcing you down on his cock. You gagged as he hit the back of your throat, the sound gratifying to Jeffs ears.

Jeff's hips were merciless, the mere thought of The Bloody Painter talking to you sending him into a possessive frenzy. Usually Jeff wasn't as rough as this, but with each thrust he thought of anyone else seeing you like this. You were his. And he needed to make sure you knew it. Tears prickled out of the corner of your eyes, gagging as Jeff pounded your throat. Briefly he removed his cock from your throat, allowing you a brief moment to breathe. Saliva connected you to his cock, a thin string hanging between the two of you before he forced you back down onto his shaft. You struggled against your restraints, your jaw forced to fall slack as Jeff violated your throat as he pleased.

"You look so pretty with your mouth stuffed full of my cock," Jeff cooed. You felt his cock twitch, his orgasm coming faster than you expected. Jeff sensed this as well, pulling you away. "Nuh uh, want to you to watch me fuck you," Jeff chuckled darkly. He forced you to your feet, turning you away from him. His rough hands yanked down your shorts and panties, before grabbing your ass. He teasingly ran his fingers up and down your slit, grinning at the feeling of how wet you were for him. You groaned as he briefly brushed against your clit, your core throbbing for more. "Jeff I need more," You whined. Jeff pressed you against the counter, grabbing you by your throat.

"Look at yourself pretty girl. You're gonna get what you want," Jeff grinned. You made eye contact with him through the mirror, swallowing as he rubbed his tip up and down your slick. "Wait you aren't going to prep me?" You asked, becoming breathless. Jeff smirked as he began to push instead of you, your walls struggling to accommodate to his size. "I don't think you need it doll. After all, you were so cock hungry for The Painters dick I think you can handle mine," Jeff snickered. He pushed himself in slowly, deciding to have mercy for a brief moment. Your body trembled as he made his way inside of you. "So full, too full," You slurred, his cock bottoming out.

Jeff's hand slithered up to your mouth, bringing two fingers to your lips. "Suck them whore or I won't move," Jeff growled. You did as instructed, taking his fingers into your mouth. "There we go. Theres my obedient little whore," Jeff grunted, smiling with pride as he made eye contact with you in the mirror. He began to thrust inside of you, the feeling of your tongue swirling around his fingers only making him harder and more eager. You struggled to contain your sinful noises as Jeff pounded into you, the pain of being stretched out fading into an all too familiar pleasure. You watched Jeff in the mirror, his lip tucked between his teeth as he watched his cock side in and out of you.

"You're practically fucking milking me doll, fucking hell," Jeff panted. With his spare hand it made its way to your clit, drawing fast and sloppy circles around it. Your eyes fluttered closed, your thighs trembling as the cord inside of you tightened tighter and tighter. "Call yourself a slut, now," Jeff ordered. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, his pupils blown with lust. You swallowed, struggling to continue sucking his fingers. "I'maslut," You chanted, your words muffled by Jeff's long fingers. He shoved his fingers down your throat, relishing in the sound of you gagging as his cock abused your g spot. "That's it doll. That's fucking it. Do you think he could fuck you like this? Huh?" Jeff growled. You shook your head no, Jeff removing his fingers from your mouth.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you," Jeff chuckled. He took his hand and wrapped it around your neck, giving him more leverage to ram into you. "No! Only you Jeff. I swear, only you," You cried. You knew your orgasm was close, the pale killers fingers never slowing as they rounded your clit. "That's what I thought. Now why don't you let everyone know how good I make you feel and cum for me?" Jeff suggested, his suggestion more of an order. He had trained your body well, your orgasm washing over you as soon as you heard he had granted you permission. Your vision went white, Jeff's cock continuing to ram into you as you shook under him. He grunted your name as he came, pulling out his shaft and releasing on your ass and lower back.

He grinned as he looked at his painted masterpiece. Yeah, The Bloody Painter may have been a painter, but Jeff was an artist.

[rilannon]

What if...?

Max doesn't know how long he's been sitting there before he hears the footsteps. What's left of his rational brain urges him to stand up, be ready to defend himself, but his limbs are heavy and he just doesn't have the will to go on. Instead he keeps his head down, forehead pressing against his knees to hide his tear-stained face. He listens to the footsteps stop for a moment, as the person clearly spots Max curled into a ball on the floor, before returning with purpose. Max lets himself sag as he submits to his fate; he knows there's a lot of people who would be more than happy to kick him while he's down, he's pissed off a lot of people over the years. He has no idea who the mystery person is, but a list jumps to his mind. Jericho, Roddy, Joe coming back for seconds, Britt, Jack, Kenny, Wardlow, Adam… In a twisted way he almost hopes that it's Wardlow. At least he would put Max out of his misery. 

The footsteps are closer now. Max knows he should look up, at least have some idea of what's coming for him, but his neck hurts. He hurts, physically and emotionally. His hip is screaming at him and his chest feels like Joe's chops reached in and carved his heart right out of his chest. Or maybe that was Adam doing the carving, he doesn't really know any more. All he knows is that he's lost everything. The ROH tag titles. The Triple B. His best friend. All gone. Max can't help but feel like he deserves this, that this is karma coming round for everything awful that he's done in his past. His brain was screaming at him that things were always going to go this way, that everyone was going to leave him because that's what people do, and Max just isn't strong enough to tell his RSD to fuck off like he usually does. Instead he spirals, fresh tears flowing as he waits for Wardlow or whoever it is coming towards him to get it over with. 

The footsteps stop in front of him, and in the ensuing quiet Max can hear how loud his sobbing is. He tries to hold it in, retain some dignity but even that is beyond him right now. He waits for a kick, a punch, hands grabbing him, anything but nothing comes. Eventually the curiosity becomes too much, and he slowly lifts his head. The first thing he sees are pink wrestling boots, and he feels his eyes widen in surprise. His gaze follows upwards, past the black and pink and white patterned wrestling tights, the obnoxiously pink Trios belt and the Scissor Me vest top, to meet Max Casters eyes. He sees his own heartbreak mirrored in Caster's face, as easy to read as always, and it makes the void in his chest ache that bit more.

As they stare at each other, Max can't bring himself to break the silence. He knows that he's pretty much an open book at the moment, and he prays that that's enough. He's scared that if he does manage to find the words, they won't ever stop. Caster opens his mouth as if to break the silence himself, but he shuts it instead, expression hardening. Max's gaze flicks to the muscle jumping as Caster clenches his jaw, pulse thundering in his ears as he wonders if Caster is going to take revenge for all the times Max has rejected him. Instead, Caster takes a step sideways, moving to sit next to Max on the floor. Max keeps watching him, not quite understanding what's happening, but Caster looks straight ahead, arms resting loosely on his drawn-up knees. The hardness is still in his face, but there's an alertness there that it takes Max far too long to identify. When he does, he sucks in a shaky breath in surprise; Caster is on guard, watching for anyone who would want to hurt Max while he's vulnerable. He's protecting Max, and that realisation is enough for the last of Max to crumble. His breath comes out as a sob, and he lets his head drop again, forehead resting against his knees once again. They're not touching, but Max can feel the body heat radiating off Caster next to him, and for the first time that evening, he doesn't feel so alone. 

[thetistaboveall]

Everything comes to a end as they say but it is not for me obviously when I see someone on the ground in my neighborhood.

I can see it through my windows causing me to dash across to the lawn out of my house to help the person.

It is a handsome guy who I am really lost at the sight of the actually do why I am there my eyes are glued to him.

Removing my cell phone from my tight jean pants back pocket slipping it out to call 911 but then I saw it.

Something told me to look at it glistening in the sun, instead I use the scanner app and take a picture.

The pictures scan over to the app as it whirl spinning out of control consuming the whole thing.

The eyes of this man light up blinking in and off shooting upward in to the sky so bright I am shocked.

The apps open after closing rebooting for me as I see it belongs to me now with my trademark.

I can see the tattoo suddenly appearing on his arms glowing brightly it cover his arm in a sexy statement.

I feel so powerful undoing his shirt my heart skips a beat touching his forehead his entire being is on display.

I can see it like a glimmering universes over me raising me to a higher consciousness he is under my control.

A rush of wind hits me transferring all of his memories, existence and more to me with a simple touch.

His facial expression goes blank completely flopping back the ground he is like a rag doll now.

I smirk heading back in to my home I dig in to my drawer retrieving a pair of scissors and head back to the scene.

Swinging it upward to the sky I cut through his shirt, the belt falls to the grass, shred his jeans.

Chucking it I feel my hand throwing his ugh my sneakers and socks to the side as they are nothing.

He lays half naked in the daylight it is a hot fever dream burning away the inhabitants and the neighborhood.

Nothing else matters to me at this point all I after about is downfall and it will be a splendid one.

“What the fuck is this? Who is he?”

“Enter his name?”

“Ok! Jack Taylor “

“Erasing old persona “

“Completed”

“Take ownership of him?”

“Yes, I will”

“Processing “

“What is your name?”

“Master Lawrence “

“Yyyeeessss! Master Lawrence “

“Begin the commencement “

“Wow! The eyes spiral”

“Beautifully done”

“Who is he?”

“Jack Taylor”

“Perfect “

“Bring him online “

I delight in excitement lifting him up into the air I place him on my shoulders dragging him into the room.

I kick the door open to the front of the house throwing him on to the carpet and slams the door shut.

The door clicks close, I flip the switch open and take pride in the fact that I am now 100 percent the predator.

Smacking my hands together the head of my hands burns fiery hot red and I can’t go touch him.

My back leaning on the door I embrace it so hard, crossing my arms tightly around my upper body.

Flipping the switch a bit higher blaring all of my sight blindly I begin to cover then until my eyes adjust.

Happily picking up his legs is drag on to the carpet sliding next to him and I knelt next to him.

“Sir Yes Sir”

“I am your Master”

“Yes Master”

“I own you “

“You will obey “

“Instructions”

“At my feet”

“Kneel”

“Yes sir”

“Do as I tell you “

“Mmm…hold me like that “

“You like that huh?”

“With all my heart”

“You are my home”

“My life “

“I covet this body “

“Use me….please “

“Listen carefully and understand your place and my protocols.”

“Recreate me”

“Kiss me”

“Smell me”

“Yes! Inhale my scent “

“I love it”

“So intoxicating “

“Oh Master”

“Oh GOD!”

The end

[afriendlywizard]

My review of a warehouse I found on Earth's Moon in the video game Starfield

I work at a cidery in the PNW. We have a pretty hefty canning line that can handle what I like to call a Solid Chunk of Volumetric Output. Our fulfillment and warehouse team touches several hundred pallets a day. We handle ingredients that come in drums, plastic IBC totes, 5 gallon buckets, and raw ingredients off the back of people’s Ford Raptors. We have pipes and valves and connectors. We talk about glycol and peracetic acid a lot. We have standard 4 level pallet racks, as well as push-back pallet racking and back-load pallet racking that maintains a First In First Out order.

I manage our Quality Assurance team, which means I spend most of my team at a desk or in a lab. I have driven our forklifts and our scissor lifts. I’ve blended our ingredients into our batching tanks. I verify our sanitation practices, and I help solve problems as needed. I spend a lot of my day staring at stainless steel pipes and mumbling about dissolved oxygen to myself.

That’s all to say, I’m not an expert. I would call myself a warehouse hobbyist and enthusiast. Not out loud to anyone, but when I play a video game that has a warehouse in it, I like to spend my time looking at how the warehouse is put together.

In addition to this, a note on Forklift Certification: It’s largely made up. There are some machines that require special licenses, and OSHA has classes you can take that probably look good on a resume, but if you look at the language that OSHA uses to define who is allowed to drive a forklift it only has two requirements. “Trained operators must know how to do the job properly and do it safely as demonstrated by workplace evaluation.” It’s up to the employer how that’s interpreted. My employer had me watch a forty five minute video and then someone watched as I drove around for thirty minutes saying “oh fuck oh fuck okay okay okay don’t hit anyone.”

I took my character, Dr. FLIPJUMP DARKSWALLOW, to the moon. I brought my companion Sarah with me, she said she wouldn’t mind a detour so that we could finally live out our shared dream of owning a pair of moon boots, so down we went to explore a seemingly abandoned lunar station. It seemed to be some kind of staging facility for receiving shipments, landing dock, staff kitchen and common area, but as far as I could tell there wasn’t anywhere within a kilometer or two to send the shipments once they arrived. Typical supply chain issues, major distro hub with nothing in site to distro to. But it did have a small on-site warehouse so Sarah and I both agreed to put a pause on our moon boots dream and explore.

This is called an IBC tote. You can fill these up through a big screw-top hole on the top, super easy to use, cheap ($275 new), universal. The most common versions I’ve seen have a galvanized steel cage and a galvanized steel pallet attached to the bottom so it can be universally picked up by a forklift. They typically have a 2” drain valve with a butterfly and a camlock. This is a pretty good example of an IBC tote! You can see how the galvanized steel was welded together at each intersection, bent into place and held there. The butterfly at the bottom has a cap in place, it has a pressure valve that’s clearly labeled. This looks pretty good!

This is a pallet jack. On Earth in the present day, you roll it into the slats on a pallet, squeeze on a hand lever in the handle, and pump the handle bar up and down as it lifts. On the Moon in the future, it looks like it’s been upgraded for use in space with what I assume is probably some electric battery type of deal. Otherwise it’s very similar to a normal pallet jack! It even has the double wheels in the front, a detail I was very excited about. There doesn’t seem to be the hand lever though, or any buttons anywhere. I assume that’s because this model has a voice assistant like an Alexa in it.

It has a spring in the back as well, another neat little detail. I’d be curious to see how this works in action, there’s a decent number of mechanical parts on it for how futuristic it looks. There’s also two small… baskets, I guess? For paperwork maybe? On either end of the handle shaft. I made up the term handle shaft.

Here is what I assume is a future-forklift. And Sarah. Please ignore Sarah. I was required to take her on a mission early on, but she keeps saying things like “that’s not yours!” and “we should not break the law,” which has been definitely cramping Dr. DARKSWALLOW’s style. Anyway, this forklift is a far cry from the kinds we have in present day. Barely recognizable.

My best guess is that you stand on this platform to operate it. But there’s no buttons or levers again, no key ignition. Presumably this turns on somehow and that panel is a touchscreen, or maybe it’s another Alexa operated device. This whole thing seems pretty dangerous. There’s no roll cage. I guess maybe there’s no OSHA in the future? Or maybe this thing has a lot of safety tech built into it to protect the operator from making mistakes. Maybe it follows Asimov’s rules of robotics and can’t allow a human to come to harm, through action or inaction. But that seems like a lot of liability to pack into programming, and it seems expensive to attach a positronic brain to a forklift. I don’t know how it would anticipate other drivers doing things badly, knocking over pallets? It seems dicey.

I do like that the cabling looks like it’s painter’s taped onto the frame so it doesn’t get caught anywhere. That’s a great little detail, very much something a maintenance team might do in a pinch. A “short term hold” as they “work with supply chain details to implement a long term repair.”

I climbed up onto a pile of boxes to get this picture. It looks like they redesigned the forks in the future, kind of a high-heeled shoe thing going on at the ends there. And this forklift seems like it has reduced functionality from what forklifts here on Earth can do. Forklifts can usually do three things with the forks: lift up and down, pitch the forks back and forth, and spread the forks wider or narrower. I think this can only lift the forks up and down. There also seems to be a large orange ball on the bottom, but I don’t know what that’s used for. My best guess, given the short cylinder above it, is that the forks can control their yaw and rotate on a horizontal access? But they’re right up against the axle so I’m not sure how that would work. Maybe if you lift the forks up it’s able to rotate? But I don’t see much of an engine to ballast the center of gravity anywhere. Maybe the entire body is made with a very dense metal, it does seem to be pretty flush with the ground.

My biggest complaint is that this forklift doesn’t have any headlights or taillights. It’s important for forklifts to have a horn and bright lights to let other workers know there’s a forklift around, especially reverse lights. These might be taillights, if I’m giving some benefit here, but they’re so low to the ground I’m not sure how other drivers are going to be able to see them. But I’m not an expert in future light bulbs, maybe these work just fine.

These look like future pallets! Pallets come in different materials, with wood or plastic as the most common, but they also come in standard sizes. But these pallets look like they’re way too small for the forklift to pick up. Maybe they’re just for the pallet jack? And big note here: I really hope for the sake of the warehouse manager in this facility that OSHA doesn’t exist, because each one of those pallets standing up on its side is going to be its own fine. Overall these pallets look pretty good, if small. And this disaster of a pile seems pretty true to form with how pallets are stored, no matter how many @everyone pings on Microsoft Teams you see get sent out about stacking pallets correctly.

I suspect everyone in the warehouse crew here hates their coworkers. They have four of these pallets in a square but are stacking things randomly on top of them. None of these things are strapped down, this black cube is on a pallet that’s a different size than the pallets underneath it. Just a bizarre move. I hope everyone’s doing okay.

And then on the other side is this: … Why? Why would anyone do this? You can’t pick those rolls up, the rest will roll right off the pallet. They’re not centered on the pallet so even if you did pick it up, you couldn’t put this onto pallet racking anywhere, it’s hanging off the edge.

This is pallet racking. It seems bolted together for some reason. I haven’t seen that before on this style of racking. It seems counter-intuitive; the whole point of this type is that it’s easy to put together, it’s modular. But if you bolt it together, it’s not modular anymore. Normally you just slot the pieces in, they fall into place and don’t require additional parts. Just welded steel with drop slots.

Oof. A dead body. I’m a little surprised there aren’t more of these here. It does feel a bit dangerous.

Here’s another pallet jack, but they aren’t using it correctly. The pallet goes into the forks, why did they put a pallet on top of the forks? Ridiculous. Now they’re just lifting things for no reason. A forklift put the pallet on, now a forklift has to take the pallet off? Why use the pallet jack at all?

And lastly: a propane cage! There’s no locks on it, the maintenance team is probably screaming at everyone to make sure they Lock Out/Tag Out their equipment, but I’ll give the benefit of the doubt and sign off on it because there’s no propane tanks inside the cage so maybe the locks just aren’t necessary. Hopefully it’s just in someone’s pocket while they’re going to refill the tanks.

Overall, this is a pretty dangerous looking facility but probably usable. I’d say they ought to start working towards shoring up some safety gaps here, maybe making more intentional decisions about purchases for a while so they have the equipment they need for their process flow instead of all this equipment that requires rework and multiple touches to get anything done. But a growing business sometimes has to take what’s available! Kudos to them for getting things up and running on the moon, not an easy feat.

[harlowarchives]

𝐜𝐡𝐩 𝟏 ! ୨ .  ˚ ໒꒱

hi, my babies! i'm so 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 to share this with you finally after almost a month of writing & perfecting this it is finally 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲𝐲! i really hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it. this is chapter one of the 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 series.

playlist!

𝟏. Sevyn watched Jack pace around the hospital room over & over until he sat down because he had begun making himself dizzy. Seating himself he started tapping his foot Sevyn blurted “Jack I'm not dying you know?” Sevyn said attempting to calm Jack’s nerves.

Lifting his hand and opening his mouth Sevyn quickly quieted him “No! No more of this negative Jack, I'm perfectly fine aside from the fact that I have to push out a physical human & the fact that there's a literal war in my mind right now!” Sevyn said chuckling trying to get a smile out of Jack. Flashing a look at him that said everything he needed to know, even though Sevyn & Jack were no longer together he still cared for her and their child more than anything. Walking toward the bed Sevyn was in, Jack ran his fingers through her hair with a nervous look on his face “I'm just worried Sev.” Jack confessed, sitting up Sevyn opened her arms placing them around Jack’s tall figure as he quickly embraced her in return, so comfortable in each other's arms Jack just smiled while time sat still. Sevyn pulled away wincing at the tug of her iv, watching Jack open his mouth Sevyn quickly smiled “I'm okay!” she said blowing out a fresh inhale. Jack noticed a quick change in expression watching Sevyn pant “Contraction! Jack get the nurse.” Jack towards the hallways yelling for help “My child's mother is going into labor.” waving his hand running into the hallway while Sevyn frantically pressed the emergency button.

She'd been in active labor for the past six hours & she was finally ready to give birth. “Jack!” Sevyn called with hot tears running down her cheeks.

𝟎𝟎𝟏. 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊

A smiling nurse said walking into Sevyn’s room smiling, “You're having a baby mama!” the woman smiled watching Sevyn smile through her tears, “I'm having a baby?” She questioned looking over at Jack’s smiling face as he began laughing picking her up as she harnessed her legs around his stomach “I love you so much, Ok? I'm so happy to have this baby with you.” Jack said as he claimed her lips. “You’ll be back for your next appointment in two weeks.” The nurse said to the happy couple as they nodded.

“Mrs.Harlow?” the nurse said as Sevyn came back to reality “Yes?” Sevyn said breathing just as the instructor in her delivery classes had taught her. “Your about to have your baby mami!” the nurse concluded after conducting a few very minor tests. A group nurses walked into the room behind them was a doctor saying some words Sevyn couldn't even listen to then finishing with “Alright, let’s do this!” says the doctor. Groaning loudly Sevyn shouted in pain her face painted with sweat. “Sev? I'm here. Everyone is here for you.” says a voice, blinking Sevyn turned her head to look at Jack with his scrubs. Sevyn began laughing while still groaning loudly in pain. “It's not funny Sevyn stop laughing! I look great.” He argued “Right?” he said looking over at the nurses as they nodded another roar came out of Sevyn, “Argh! Shut up boy come here.” Quickly walking towards Sevyn Jack began running his fingers through her hair, gently massaging her shoulders “You ready?” Jack said coming face-to-face with Sevyn as she nodded sweat & tears running down her sunkissed skin. “Alright, time to push as hard as you can sweetie!” the doctor called as Sevyn shouted.

A loud cry filled the room, a beautiful sweet melodic cry, relief washed over the mother. Walking towards the doctor’s Jack was handed a pair of scissors cutting the umbilical cord. Tears welled in Jack’s eyes wiping his eyes before Sevyn could see, Jack gently wrapped his arms around Sevyn’s shaking body Jack's scrubs were covered in her hot tears, placing his pointer finger under Sevyn’s chin “Look at me. You did amazing.” he said looking down at Sevyn “Yeah?” she said laughing through her tears still trying to catch her breath. “Yeah.” as tears trickled down his tomato-red cheeks.

Trying to stop Jack’s tears was like trying to catch rain in a cup, tears wouldn’t stop so he just let them fall.

After letting Jack & Sevyn have their moment “Here she is!” the doctor said lowly, lying the baby in Sevyn’s arms. Jack & Sevyn smiled before they nestled the infant gently rocking her. Kissing her tiny head while she rested & cooed on Sevyn’s chest. “Big ass head just like her damn daddy,” Sevyn said laughing “Beautiful just like her mommy,” Jack said smiling.

After the delivery, Sevyn sat on the shower bench letting the water run on her. She placed her hand under the showerhead moistening her coils standing up for a minute to rinse the soap off. Since she had given birth she’d been bleeding nonstop, at first she was frightened but her doctor assured her it was completely normal and that her body was doing exactly what it should be, she’d been in the shower for 40 minutes cleaning the blood & other fluids off herself. Once her legs got tired she sat down on the wet shower bench, she wasn't supposed to over-exert herself especially because she had torn during birth which was additional pain. Washing the soap off her body Sevyn felt a cold liquid drip down her leg more blood, she groaned at the sight of it. Quickly rinsing it off with the vaginal soap provided by the hospital she turned the water off and got out. Looking in the mirror, Sevyn put on a pair of yoga pants, and a baby pink dry-fit t-shirt, and then started washing her face watching her skin glow in the cold lighting. She listened to music while moisturizing her coils brushing the kinks out and putting on the pad the doctor had recommended.

Sevyn stepped into her room smiling at the flowers & gifts her friends and family had left, her legs grew weak while she limped toward her bed wincing at the sharp stabbing pains in her stomach. “Whoa, slow down Sev,” Urban said running towards her and walking her to her bed “Thank you, Uncle Urban,” she said smiling and making a snake-like sound as Urban helped her into her bed that was prepared with fresh sheets. After Urban fluffed her pillow she laid back watching Urban sit in the chair beside her.

“Where’s everyone Urb?” she asked looking down at him and shifting her body and pillow a bit. “Uhm. Jack is picking up your mom and then getting you something to eat because he refuses to let you eat hospital food.” Urban said watching Sevyn change the channel to Cartoon Network, “You good & everything though? I couldn't even imagine doing what the fuck you just did.” He questioned as she just nodded “I just can't believe I even did it.” Sevyn was honestly shocked at what she was able to perform it felt kind of crazy that she was able to do something so beautiful, “Well we all know your gonna be a sick mom, Sevyn.” Urban complimented, she’d always had very maternal traits she was very protective over the group and great with Nemo’s daughter & all kids, and gave great advice not to mention she was wise, humorous & was in all a dope-ass person. “Where’s my niece anyway?” Urban questioned “Actually she should be back in two minutes.” Seven said glancing at the digital clock on her bedside, Urban and Sevyn heard an additional voice enter the room. “She’s back! Say hi Mommy.” The nurse said pushing the baby’s bed to Sevyn’s beside “Alright Mommy, you have a beautiful healthy little girl, you can breastfeed her whenever you're ready.” the nurse smiled at Urban & Sevyn before walking out of the room, groaning Sevyn lifted her baby and placed her on her chest.

“Do you know how much mommy loves you already?” Sevyn smiled watching the infant coo. “No, you don't. You don't.” She said in a baby-like voice shaking her head while Urban just admired Sevyn’s bond with her child, “Say hi Uncle Urban, Hi!” Sevyn said grinned waving her hand. “You wanna hold her?” she said looking at Urban’s glossy eyes, “Yes, more than anything.” Urban choked up, clearing his throat. “Go wash your hands.” She said quietly as he nodded quickly walking to the bathroom turning on the sink then seeing two women & behind them, a man. “Yall is right on time, She’s right here.” Sevyn smiled as everyone hugged her, “Awh! She's so beautiful Sev!” Sayori smiled, “Can’t believe my bestfriend had a baby, I’m finally a rich auntie.” Clover added “I’m just surprised she ain’t got yo fat ass forehead.” Druski added “Wonder how yo baby gon be built.” Sevyn snapped back as the room broke into laughter, “Y’all need to wash your hands.” Urban said walking toward Sevyn as she rested the baby in his arms, as he baby talked to her saying words no one could really make out. “Yo she looks just like you & Jack,” Druski said his eyes wide walking closer to get a better look.

After everyone had held and taken pictures with the baby Jack, His parents & Sevyn’s mother Madeline walked in with bags of food and other gifts, Jack’s parents walked over to give Sevyn hugs before walking to the bathroom. Everyone sat scattered in the room having separate conversations, “Got your favorite,” Jack smiled holding up a large bag of Chick-Fil-A. “Oh my god, I needed this. I love you.” Sevyn smiled “I love you too.” Jack replied, “Not you— the food.” Sevyn smiled looking around. “Figured.” Jack responded “Alright I washed my hands where my at daughter?” He said with a bright smile on his face. “Right over here, Daddy.” She smiled pointing at the baby. “God she’s beautiful.” He said lifting her out of her bed as she opened her eyes cooing at Jack “Your so beautiful girl.” He said looking down at her, his child. His child. A smile spread across the newborns face as Sevyn and Jack immediately began smiling and laughing “Let’s get a picture of y’all.” Urban called lifting his camera from around his neck the snapping a picture of the new family.

“Alright everyone we want to thank you for being here for this beautiful day in our lives now, me & Sevyn would like to announce something.”

As everyone turned their attention to Jack. “Sevyn you wanna?” he questioned looking down at her “Actually yes, our daughter’s name is Hope Jovani Harlow.” She smiled kissing Hope’s head as everyone cheered some even shedding tears.

🏷️ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ⁱ : @lexxtooshiesty4bae @iknowdatsrightbih @iheartharlow @livsters @honeyharlows @killatravtramp @jackmanduh

[emma4nastuff]

Workout Routine!

By the way, I also do Ballet. I have 4 classes every week each class being 2 hours and sometimes 3! Sometimes I also go for a run for about 40/50 minutes where I burn 300cals!

Cardio:

100 jumping jacks;

100 high knees;

100 scissor jumps;

100 jump-rope;

20 burpees.

Abs:

100 crunches;

1min plank;

25 pam knife + floor touch;

100 leg lift;

25 reverse crunch + 1 leg drop;

25 dennis knife + clap.

Legs:

30 squat pulse;

30 relevé squat;

50 leg pulsate (right leg);

50 leg pulsate (left leg);

30 wide legs;

30 plié + relevé squat.

Arms:

25 leg circles front (both arms);

25 leg circles back (both arms);

w/ weights 25 shoulder press (front and side);

w/ weights 25 wide row (up and side);

w/ weights 25 press bend (front and side)

w/ weights 25 cross back.

[voltz321]

VOLTZ TY35-1 12V Electric Scissor Jack – 2 Ton Vehicle Quick Lift for Emergencies

The VOLTZ TY35-1 12V Electric Scissor Jack is a powerful and efficient tool for lifting 2-ton vehicles, making it perfect for emergency tire changes on the road. It operates via your vehicle's 12V DC outlet, allowing for quick and effortless lifting without manual cranking.

Features:

2 Ton Lifting Capacity: Easily lifts cars and SUVs up to 2 tons.

12V Electric Power: Powered by your vehicle's cigarette lighter, ensuring convenience and ease of use.

Quick Lift Mechanism: Efficiently raises your vehicle in just minutes, saving you time during emergencies.

Compact & Portable: Lightweight design for easy storage in your car, ready for any roadside situation.

Durable Black Finish: Sturdy construction ensures long-lasting performance, even in tough conditions.

Benefits:

Hassle-Free Operation: No more manual labor—get your vehicle lifted with minimal effort.

Emergency Ready: Perfect for quick tire changes during breakdowns, keeping you safe on the road.

Time-Saving: Reduces the time spent on tire replacement, so you can get back to driving sooner.

Easy to Store: Compact size fits conveniently in your trunk, always accessible when needed.

This electric jack is the ideal companion for road trips, providing peace of mind knowing you're equipped for any tire emergency.

[nitewrighter]

I'm curious, you mentioned one of the things you'd like to get asks about is DC - anything specific you'd like to talk about or just DC in general?

(I'm assuming this is DC comics, not the District of Columbia)

(also, first thing that came to mind: which DC hero/villain powerset would you most want to have and why?)

I'm pretty broad spectrum. I've been reading a lot of the 90's and Silver Age Superman comics (a lot of the runs that were written with being compiled into Graphic novels in mind, such as Kryptonite and a Superman for All Seasons), and slowly tackling big in-universe events chunk by chunk. I've also taken a more writer/artist focused approach than really particular hero approach--I've read the first three volumes of Saga of the Swamp Thing and a compilation of Alan Moore's shorter DC work, and I feel like I've read a solid amount of Tom King at this point--and obviously I've been snapping up any work by Jose Luis Garcia-Lopez and Jamal Campbell that I can get my hands on.

I also have some familiarity with the Young Animal imprint, Sandman and to a lesser extent Hellblazer.

I'm also open to recs for certain runs--If you're going crazy about a certain run and would like to talk about it, I'd be willing to try and track it down.

Also if I had to pick a powerset, I love psychic powers but I think I'd pick a Green Lantern ring just for sheer versatility. Flight, constructs of virtually anything, an aura for surviving the vacuum of space, universal translator, access to a massive database... they're just really useful! I also think it's funny that it's like "Okay, yeah, there's a natural limit on the ring that keeps you from dealing lethal blows with the ring, however, if there's a pile of missiles lying around, technically, the ring can't stop you from using it to hurl those missiles at someone." It's got a solid limit on itself, it demands creativity and quick-thinking from its user, but also because it's dependent on the user's creativity, there are these loopholes and workarounds on its limits. Also it's something that can leech off of your own physical and mental strength in a pinch, but also it's something independent of you--I think that's kind of an important aspect, to be able to break with the power if the power itself becomes corrupted.

I also think it's funny when it's like

Superhero with super-strength: *is using super strength to lift a thing, grunting and straining*

Green Lantern: *is standing off to the side projecting a giant scissor jack construct to help lift the thing* :)

[dollettewl]

🤍My new workout routine for 2 weeks 🤍

1st set

_ 2 minutes side plank

_ 25 leg lifts

_ 25 crunches

_ 25 hips thrust

_ 25 Russian twist

2nd set

_ 100 side leg lifts

_ 50 lunges

_ 50 side leg waves

_ 30 scissors (with ankle weights)

_ 30 scissors (without ankle weights)

3rd set

_ 30 squats

_ 50 butt kicks

_ 50 jumping jacks

_ 25 arm circles

_ 25 up

4th set

_ 1 minutes planks

_ 25 toes touch

_ 3 minutes running

_ 2 minutes body stretch

~

Weight before : 58,20kg

Weight after 1 week : 56,70kg

Weight after 2 weeks : 54,25kg

09/09/23 at 2PM

[edwad]

are you actually forklift certified? like for real?????

not only am i certified to operate but im also certified to train others on the equipment. electric jacks, walkie stackers, scissor lifts, etc