#sweet potato cutting machine

[cnyazhongmachinery]

onion slicer price | potato cutter | cassava cutting machine | sweet potato cutting machine

Raw material:potato,onion, sweet potato, cassava, etc. Machine material: SUS304 https://www.cnyazhong.com/products/Industrial-Electric-Manual-Feeding-Vegetable-Slicer-Machine.html Wechat/whatsapp:8613213203466

[joyshinemachinerycompany]

Sweet potato washing and cutting line | sweet potato washer cutter| sweet potato washing and cutting machine

Sweet potato washing and cutting line is used for making fresh sweet potato strips easily and quickly. Capacity: 50kg/h-1t/h. Sweet potato process: sweet potato washing and peeling machine -sweet potato strips cutting machine - sweet potato strips washing machine - sweet potato strips drying machine - packaging machine https://hnjoyshine.com/products/Fruit-Vegetables-Processing-Line.html Wechat/whatsapp:8613213203466

[lovesjill]

ethan landry like boyfriend

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

warnin: dark themes, mentions of murder, ethan is sweet and a good boy for you, smut

I think ethan just loves to gossip with you. he is the guy who knows everything that happens at the university or in your dorm with him. ethan loves to gossip with you, in the evenings lying on his bed. especially, you both love to make fun of chad and tara. laughing at the fact that chad can't kiss this bithc, or at the fact that tarantula got into trouble again.

- «tarantula got into some trouble again, she had a fight with some idiot from the fraternity» - you rolled your eyes. and ethan chuckled softly. you both even came up with nicknames for this two bitches.

this guy is very clingy. this guy always manages to hold your hand, keep his hand on your waist or on your thigh. as soon as he sees you, he already out of habit puts keeps his hand on your body.

ethan will save money for a long time for your date with him or for some gift for you. he will save money diligently and try not to spend much. on dates he is definitely a gentleman.

when you find out he's ghostface, you still love him and he's grateful to you for it. he told you a funny story about a richie's girlfriend. ethan immediately started to hate amber.. he's just irritated by her stupid pig-like face. she even tried to flirt with him, so he taught her a lesson. a bucket of bugs fell on amber, and eth also ruined her clothes. after that, he never saw that pig.

he also absolutely despises people who try to make fun of you or flirt with you. he just hates the blonde emily at your university with all his heart because she always manages to make fun of you. ethan somehow ended up changing the water in the water machine to dirty and also broke the machine itself, and all the water poured out on this slut and she was famous throughout the university. you still remember how the blonde ran feverishly, and even fell in the hallway. a week later, ethan killed her.

- «baby.. is this your doing?» - ethan pretended to be the stupidest person in the world and looked at you with his big puppy eyes.

ethan just loves any clothes you wear. but he prefers it when you wear dresses. he loves your elegance. but he just hates it when you wear something revealing in public. he prefers it when you wear it in front of him, because it will definitely lead to sex later.

he loves sharing his cheetos with you, and he also loves cooking with you. he's.. actually, he knows a little about cooking. at least he's good at peeling potatoes.. but he'll definitely cut himself with a knife and you, being a caring girlfriend, will put a bandage on his cut and kiss him to soothe him. he literally melts deep down.

you're that quiet, nerdy couple, but behind closed doors you have a very... special and passionate relationship.

he is just obsessed with your hair. literally. when you are together in the dorm and relaxing, he will gently comb your hair and massage your head. this guy has hands from God.. (i kissed those hands)

if he suddenly does something wrong, he will literally beg you for forgiveness on his knees. for him it is like a catastrophe, and he is already going crazy and thinks that you will leave him. and if you do... then, endure a rough night of love with him.

his heart melts when you protect him from mindy, or anika's insults, or chad's rage. he literally looks at you and thinks.. "how did i get a girlfriend like that"

you are pinned to the very first place in his phone, and notifications are turned on only for you. except for his father, sister and chad, there is no one else in his contacts. he does not care at all about tara, sam, anika or mindy.

during rough sex he often starts complaining about your friends. his mouth is so dirty.. and you are just shocked by his words. he literally curses chad and tara and you can hear him growling.

he doesn't actually use condoms, he likes to take risks.. (what a bad boy) and he also often lies to you that he ran out of condoms, although he just hid them

he probably asked his sister quinn for dating advice and he regretted it.. she was always teasing him and making fun of her poor brother.

ethan is actually good at drawing, he secretly draws in class and rarely in econ when he gets too bored. he can only draw girls and their faces, and you know what kind of girl he always draws.

so in murders he shows his creative personality as an artist and creates his own work of art. remember anika.

you talk about anything. he prefers to listen more, he is ready to listen to any nonsense that you say and just admire your voice. he looks only at you and literally remembers everything that you tell him.

in the second act, your boyfriend literally saved you from falling out of the window. it happened that sam accidentally pushed you and you almost fell, he literally almost went crazy and pushed you away from the window. during the second act, he paid attention to you and only left you alone. when you were climbing the ladder, he deliberately began to slow down to knock down the door so that you could climb over.

his father will definitely faint when he finds out about his future wedding plans.. ethan is actually planning on marrying you when he graduates from university or a little earlier.

ethan is literally a cat. he has excellent vision and can even see well at night, he can also climb on roofs as a ghostface. and he can also.. purr. after his kills, he snuggles up to you and purrs quietly because you're next to him. but he doesn't like fish and can't stand the smell of fish. he can only tolerate salmon.

- «baby, thank you, it's so delicious.. I'll wash the dishes now» - ethan is literally ready to thank you on his knees for your care and food.

this boy barely eats normal food before you came into his life. you started cooking him light and healthy food. he just loves your fruit salad.

basically, ethan landry is a great boyfriend. he's caring, shy, and a very loyal guy. plus, he's your number 1 serial killer. girl, you've fallen in love with a criminal.

[just-some-random-blogger]

He Tells Me

Masterlist

You've fallen into psychological stalemate with a man who does things for you without needing to be asked, and neither of you want to give up the last say.

Joel Miller x Reader | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, fluff, overgiver!joel & yn, ellie 'JUST FUCKING KISS ALREADY' williams, typos, etc.

A/N: ive fallen into this song again. ITS SO JOEL CODED

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @multifandom-fangirl4

▶ ♪ Play touch tank by quinnie ♪ ◀

I love you isn't always I and Love and You; it isn't always the words that tumble out of your mouth or the lump that's stuck in your throat.

I love you isn't always a kiss and a hug; it isn't always the way lips brush against skin or chests press against chests.

Sometimes it's good mornings. Good morning, I love you. Did you sleep well, I love you. Have you eaten, I love you.

I love you, I did the dishes.

I love you, I fixed your faulty light.

Hey, let me carry that for you.

This reminded me of you, here.

I think you'd like this.

I love you.

But somehow, those I love yous read to you as you owe mes, and now, you were paying back every bit of your debt with blood, sweet, and a burnt hand.

Ellie opens the door and smiles, immediately calling your name and pulling you into a side hug. You lean into her embrace as much as the steaming casserole in your hand will allow you.

"You made it just in time for dinner!" she says, pushing you in with her.

You chuckle, "oh, Elle-machine. I'm just here to drop this off and-"

"Don't be silly," a voice cuts you off. Joel comes down from the stairs, barely glancing your way as he overtakes you both, heading for the kitchen. Still, you notice his faint smile and a shot of electricity ripples down your spine, a swell of warmth crawls up your ears.

Joel walks off, grunting as he did, "you're staying for dinner. End of story."

Ellie watches you be rendered frozen in your spot. She does not hide her grin, "he just called you silly."

You turn to her, finding the pot in your hand was feeling heavier, "... he did."

You and Ellie make it to the dining table and you set the food you prepared on a table next to the other dishes.

"Wow," you mutter, "roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and a salad," you look up at Joel, who was walking over with another pot. He sets the pot down as you turn to Ellie, "is it your birthday or something?"

"No," Ellie sit down with a smile, "Joel just knows I'm a growing child who needs her food."

You bring a hand to your mouth to hold in your giggles. Joel catches this and furrows his brows.

"Consider me jealous, honey," you tease her.

"Well, you could always move in with us," Ellie props her elbows on the table.

Before you can reply, Joel takes your hand, making both you and Ellie turn to him. Your heart pounds. His expression hardens as he takes in the cloth wrapped around your palms, "what happened to your hand?"

You watch him examine your hand a second too long. Joel looks back at out, ripping a response from your lips, "I- uh- the... the casserole."

Joel raises his brows, "you burnt your hand cooking?"

The worry in his brown eyes ate away at your heart. You clench your jaw, unwilling to admit you were a useless and bad cook, "... no."

Joel thinks back to the contents of the first aid kit in the compound.

"I- I was doing something with the pot and then I-"

"I think Tommy has burn ointment somewhere," Joel trails off, immediately releasing my hand and marching off.

Your stomach drops. You immediately catch his arm, "wait!"

Joel stops in his tracks, looking back at you.

"It's not a big deal!" you say through an airy chuckle, "I put it under running water for a while. I just put a wrap because it hurts when I-"

His hand, warm and gentle, coming atop yours cuts you off. Joel shifts in his spot; your ears perk, as they were sensitive to the sound of his boots. He gives you a look, a kind one, a patient one, a tender one, "it isn't a big deal. I'll be back in two seconds."

The moment Joel walks off, Ellie pipes up, "you should just take a seat. You know you can't argue with him. Well, I mean you can but that normally doesn't end up well." She pats on the empty chair beside her, "want to hear about what I did in school today instead?"

You release a soft breath and smile, "of course, darling."

When Joel came back, he announced there was no burn ointment, but he did find an ice pack. The only problem now, there was no ice. And so as the three of you began to eat, he explained he'd fix the broken ice cream freezer in the warehouse and make ice for you tomorrow. To which you said-

"You really don't have to," you shake your head, suddenly too embarrassed to get anymore food than you already had on your plate. You had one scoop of mashed potatoes.

Joel moves the bowl of mash closer to you then takes off the lid of one pot, "I meant to do it anyway. They found spare parts for it. Now I have a reason," he turns to you, "have some pasta. I made it for you."

Your eyes land on the pot. You begin to feel a nasty little feeling claw up your nape at the thought of Joel going out of his way for you. I mean, you made the casserole to repay him for helping you do your laundry, and if it wasn't bad enough that he saw your underwear, he made you food, one of your favorites. You offer Joel a smile, "thank you, Joel."

He reaches out to your for your plate. You hand it to him wordlessly. He mutters, "you're welcome, sweetheart."

Your lips part. He's never called you that before, only Ellie.

He stills the moment he has your plate in hand, "I- I mean-"

"NAH," Ellie cuts as she rips off a chicken leg, "you called her sweetheart. No take backsies."

Joel clears his throat as he puts pasta on your plate.

When you all finished eating, not a lick was left on your plates. You obviously insisted on washing the dishes and Joel countered you wouldn't be because you were a guest. The back and forth became so insufferable Ellie stepped up and volunteered, insisting instead that Joel walk you back home. You had no means to insist your way out of that.

And so you waited by the front door for Joel to get his jacket from the second floor. When he got it, the two of you headed out, walking quite leisurely.

"You know," you shove your hands in your pockets. You couldn't help it, "my house is literally, like, two steps away from here. You don't have to walk-"

Joel draping his jacket around your shoulders silence you. He pulls the thing by the collar, making sure it was snug on you, "yeah. All the more reason to walk you, since it's so close."

You watch him pull his pants up as he looks around. He offers, "but if it's a challenge you want, we can circle 'round the compound a bit before heading back to yours."

A warmth envelopes you, and it's not because of his jacket.

He turns to you when you don't respond, immediately blurting, "only if you want," he wipes his lips, "I'm not trying to make you do-"

"No, I know," you shake your head, "I know what you mean."

You and Joel look at each other in the quiet while walking. He takes a moment before nodding. He chuckles rather uneasily, "okay... good- that's good."

Seconds pass with just the sound of your footsteps between you.

You decide to say what's on your mind, "Uh," you turn to your feet.

Joel immediately locks his gaze on you.

"Next time," you purse your lips, "just leave the pasta to me."

Joel knits his brows. Damn.

"You know..." you look away, "like, I'm glad you invited me over and all, but you-"

"Was it that bad?"

You finally turn to him, "what?"

"Was my cooking that bad?" Joel feels his insides churn. He feels so stupid suddenly for not following the recipe to a tee. Damn his personal tastes.

You shake your head, "no. No! Your cooking was great! It wasn't bad at all. I enjoyed it. This isn't about your cooking."

He makes a face, "oh..."

You nod, clarifying, "I just- you don't have to do that for me."

He takes a moment to think. Oh... He snorts and rubs his nose, "ah... I see."

You knit your brows at that.

Joel's shoulder's slump. It was him then. Well, he doesn't blame you for not being interested. He releases a breath. It was stupid of him anyway. He thinks of a flimsy excuse to break the tension. It a horrible lie, "sorry, uh, it's just-- Ellie just really wanted to eat with you."

His words make you knit your brows deeper. You blink twice, "Ellie... wanted me to join?"

"Yeah," Joel huffs, "she thinks your great."

You nod slowly.

"But... if you don't want to eat with me, I'll make sure to-"

"Wait, what?"

The both of you stop walking.

Joel feels his insides disintegrate when you look at him the way you do. He looks away and clears his throat. Man up, "I... don't want to make you uncomfortable with any... unwanted advances."

"Wait," you quickly step forward. You rapidly shake your head, "no! I..." you raise your brows, "I just- I don't want to burden you with... with- d-doing things for me."

A deep line forms between Joel's brows, "burden? Who said anything about burdens?"

You look away as you continue to shake your head, "I- I don't know. I just- I don't want to bother you-"

"JUST KISS ALREADY!"

Both of you snap to the side There, from the second floor window, was Ellie, head sticking out of the window. She cups her mouth with her hand and screams again, "KIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSS!"

You look away from her. You turn to your feet as you feel your face burn.

Joel's loud voice surprises you, "GO TO BED!"

"I'M NOT 4!" Ellie screams back.

Joel decides to end the screaming match with a grumble, "well, you're damn acting like one." He turns back to you, "sorry about her, she's-"

"I really like you," you blurt when you look back at him, "I really like being around you."

Joel feels his fingers tingle.

Your impulsiveness only now begins to feel like a bad idea, "I-" your voice gets smaller, "it's not unwanted advances... not per se... It's just- when people do things for me, I don't- well, I don't know, I-"

"You can't just accept it?"

You stare at each other for a moment. You nod. Joel nods too.

"I'm usually the one giving, ya know," you say.

Joel nods again, "I do. I feel the same way. I don't like needing to get help from anyone," he crosses his arms, "but, you know, being with Ellie... she's taught me that sometimes-"

"FUCKING KISS HER OLD MAN!"

You can't contain the snort that leaves your mouth. Joel shoots a glare to his side. Still, he breaks into a chuckle, "I'm gonna kill her."

Ellie makes a face and waves her hands, "NO! DON'T LOOK AT ME, LOOK AT HER! LOOK AT- oh my god he actually did it."

[rubellirium]

Fork honed sharp

◆ Pairing: Blade x reader (gender-netural) ◆ Word Count: 900~ ◆ CW: thoughts of cannibalism, very vague description of intercourse, Dead Dove Do Not Eat ◆ Inspired by Korean Cakeverse. "Forks" people have no sense of taste. "Cake" people's flesh and bodily fluids are sweet and are the only thing Forks can taste.

Your tears weren't enough anymore.  The taste was fading, like licking a wooden ice cream stick, tasting more of the wood than the sweetness. You were so, so sweet– Something between honey, with your tears having an aftertaste of nectar. When Blade first got to taste you– simply licking your sweat, going step after step– he felt like he was eating for the first time in his life. Compared to the faint flavours in his memories, it all felt bleak, almost tasteless like the ashy food he had been forced to eat for years now. Back then, he lapped at your wrist like a starved dog (taste of your sweat, of your skin– addicting) till his tongue was numb, your skin red from friction (pulse of your blood– tempting).

But he quickly craved more.

Now, you lay under him so prettily. Back arching, your ribs pressing against his, shaking with every breath. (How would your marrow taste?) Your nails add red lines on his back, they disappear quicker than you can create them– he wishes they would stay, that you could have a payback. For hours and hours wasted on him licking every inch of your skin, for every tear he made you shed, even if it wasn’t from pain. For now, Blade, despite being more of a tool than a man, could bring something more than pain. With his hips in a rhythm that you desperately tried to match, with his lips, leaving a trail of open-mouth kisses - from the dip of your shoulder, the column of your neck leaving blooming marks on the side where your blood pulses wildly (how would your veins taste?), to the edge of your jaw till he reaches his reward.

Blade sucks on your wet cheek, each tear disappearing in his eager lips– he clicks his tongue in frustration. It was tasteless, like wet ash on his tongue.

You open your eyes at the sound. Blade can see the sadness mixed with tears, the wrinkles between your brows and the frown on your lips; something akin to shame and worry painted on your face. His heart doesn’t ache at the sight; he wishes it would. He wished it could be different, that you were the one cursed with this insatiable hunger. His flesh would regenerate, his heart would pump as much blood as you desired– the pain would fade. You would consume him again and again– a kinder death. Two cursed lovers; blood on his hands, blood on your lips.

Eating was a chore. Something he had to do to not slowly starve but not truly. Never truly. Beautifully smelling meat, salads full of colours, cakes promising so much sugar his teeth rot, it’s all the same– ash. Each bite was mechanical action, like pumping gas into a machine - forcing himself to chew, to ignore the tasteless textures, to swallow despite his body wanting to puke. Bite after bite, minutes stretching into hours as he stares blankly at the plate -  chicken with its golden skin peeled, mashed potatoes with red sauce carelessly mixed in (How would your blood taste?).

You tremble under his calloused hands. Clinging to his body like a lamb fearing for its life– Blade wishes he wasn’t the butcher. He nuzzles into your neck, your skin so hot and full of life, his hands stroking your body; from your sides to your hips, resting on the thighs that were straddling him. Meanwhile, your hands stay rigging, gripping onto his shoulders, digging into the material of his shirt. Desperate and afraid, but when he glances at your eyes, he sees only kindness and devotion.

He wished he could be kinder to you, as much as a tool could be. Put a scabbard on, so he would never cut even if he bruises you.

Blade groans into your skin. The taste of you melts across his tongue, dizzyingly sweet. The more of you he could consume, the more prominent the taste was. Thick and deep like wine, sweet like honey with some aftertaste of flowers he cannot put his fingers on, leaving pure sugar on the back of his tongue. You dig deeper into his shoulders, plea on your lips when Blade snarls, teeth still deep into your flesh as he pulls you closer– step away from feral.

You weren’t close enough, he needed you flushed against his body, to feel every inch of you against him as he slowly worked on making you both into one in the most literal sense of it. The pain in his scalp as you jank him by the hair only makes him more excited, but at least you manage to get his teeth out of you. For now, he’s sated to just suck on the wound, drawing out more of your blood. Blade’s sloppy, letting the liquid trickle, roll down his chin and stain both your and his skin.

Every few days, your body was being decorated with another bite. On the dip by your shoulder, on your plushy thighs, your forearm, your calf. Each one red and aching, and each one kissed better. Each one followed by an almost apologetic look from Blade as he kisses you slowly– his lips taste like copper. For him, it tastes like ash.

Your blood wasn’t enough. (How would your meat taste?)

[jungle-angel]

Two Little Pumpkins (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: Halloween is fast approaching but for you and Rhett that means letting the kiddos do one of their favorite things

Rhett's heavy footfalls clunked down the stairs to the living room and into the kitchen, the full laundry basket resting on his hip and ready for the washing machine. God his clothes stank, the reek of cow shit, motor oil and compost all over them. Bad enough that he and Wes had to shovel out the pigpen on the Redwood ranch that afternoon in the cold, wet rain before he discovered that a good portion of the rain had soaked through the tops of his boots.

He overturned the bucket into the washer that rested in the little room just off the kitchen, the giggles of Hannah, Amy and Rose Hawk, music to his ears as he dumped in a capful of laundry detergent.

"Whatcha up to girlies?" he asked.

"Making jack-o-lanterns!!!" the girls chirped.

Rhett looked up as he switched on the washer, the three girls all at the kitchen table, happily carving away at their pumpkins while the smells of cinnamon, apples and the pumpkin spice candles burned in the living room. You yourself, were in the kitchen and getting dinner prepped for that night, the sun having gone down around five-thirty which made the house extra cozy even as the due date for your twin boys crept closer and closer.

"You good sweet thing?" Rhett said, sneaking up behind you.

"As always," you answered rather cheekily.

"What's on the menu for tonight?"

"Big bowl of beef stew, mashed potatoes and buttermilk biscuits."

Rhett had to bite his lip to hide the obscene groan that had welled in his throat. He loved whenever you made Cecelia's beef stew recipe and if it was her ox tail soup? He'd eat it until there was nothing more in the dutch oven.

You stirred the savory contents of the crockpot while Rhett took a seat at the kitchen table to help the girls. He took care of the sharp parts, carving out along the marks made with a sharpie and cutting open the top while the girls scooped out the contents, pretending to be mad scientists.

"Her girlies," you said, handing them a cookie tray. "Put the guts and seeds on a cookie tray, momma's gonna make cookies with them."

"Mind salting and saving the seeds for me?" Rhett asked.

You didn't mind at all. Like sunflower seeds, Rhett was an absolute sucker for roasted pumpkin seeds in the fall, carrying them in a little bag and eating them with his lunches like they were popcorn.

You picked out the pumpkin seeds and set them in a strainer to wash them off while the soft, cakey cookie batter was whipped up in a bowl with the pumpkin being dumped in and promptly mixed in. The entire house smelled so good that you wished you could bottle it all up and make a candle scent with it.

"Whatcha think darlin?" Rhett asked when Rose turned her pumpkin around. "Scary enough?"

You laughed a little. "I dunno Rhett," you told him. "I think Joy and Martha are gonna get spooked when they see it."

You and Rhett had the time of your lives helping the girls to carve their pumpkins while dinner and dessert cooked away in the oven.

"Wanna put these on display at the store?" Rhett asked while the girls were washing their hands for dinner.

"Why not?" you answered. "I figured maybe a little Halloween pumpkin display wouldn't be a bad idea."

Rhett kissed your lips. He couldn't wait to see it.

[frogliftcertified]

the palestine committee of norway has a list of products that are frequently exported from Israel, but has no english version of the page available so i translated it.

might be helpful if you're wondering what kind of produce to look out for, and what kind of products not to be buying. thanks @livefromrhythmridge for bringing this page to my attention.

some of the most common products here are oranges, dates, grapefruits, sweet potatoes, various cosmetics, and sodastream machines. i'll put a full list under the cut.

not 100% done, but here's my translated page: https://68degrees.no/boycott

original page: https://palestinakomiteen.no/boikott-israel/

[sugahyeon]

/!\ Angst/Hc /!\

Guiding a child down the path to hell is always a heartbreak. Bad knew that. He led Trump, Tilín and Juanaflippa there, holding their little hands, too small for his, short fingers just gripping at his pinkie. He gave them a hug, listened to their fears, their last wishes, their forever unrealized dreams. He whispered sweet little nothings in their ear when they cried in his arms, promised he would look after their parents, their siblings, after everyone they had ever cared for.

And when the moment came, he let them walk towards Her, waving them goodbye until they were out of sight, before turning around and breaking down.

Because a child's death cannot be fair.

And he has no power over it.

Guiding a child down the path to hell is always a heartbreak. Bad knew that better than anyone.

When he had to guide Dapper halfway throught, he couldn't stop his hands from shaking. For the first time, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't cut out for this job.

And he begged, begged Her to let him take his son back, to not have to let him halfway through this path. He had been a good worker, the best one perhaps, didn't he deserve a chance? A prize for all of his hard work?

But death isn't fair.

And Bad left his son's soul on the flowery path.

His hands were still shaking a week later. His heartbeat had been too erratic for him to run for a few days. His eyes were red and heavy and oh so tired from crying too much.

But Dapper was still here, right? He had one more life after all, they would be fine, wouldn't they? Life was just the same!

And they continued everything they ever started to do, no matter the danger, no matter the eggs' death multiplying day after day, no matter the federation, no matter the code, no matter anything but them.

Bad thought he had escaped his fate, at least for a few years. He ran, as fast as he could, made them move house every now and then, built an entire web of waypoints. They would be fine, they had to be.

He did everything right.

They did everything right.

And he forgot.

Forgot the injustice.

Forgot the shake of his hands.

Forgot the dryness of his eyes.

Forgot the pain.

Forgot the horror.

One day, Bad didn't get up in the morning.

There were no need to anymore.

The house was cold, the machines in the room besides his weren't buzzing as they always used to, the bed next to his was still undone, keeping the shape of Dapper's last morning.

It didn't made sense to get out of bed.

So Bad didn't.

By instinct, he opened the book laying besides his bed. The blank pages smiled at him: there's no more tasks to do.

So when people started sending him messages, asking to talk, or to visit their new house, or to babysit their egg, or to come help in a dungeon or any now meaningless requests, Bad closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Why go outside?

Why talk?

Why look through his window?

Why make his bed?

Why eat?

Why drink?

Why shower?

Why breath?

Why wake up?

Meanwhile, the outside world is in panic.

No one is here to babysit Tallulah when she doesn't wake up in time for Philza.

No one re-fills Chayanne's ingredient stash when he runs out.

No one plays with Ramón when he gets up without his dad.

No one talks Forever out of his panic phases.

No one keeps Baghera up to date with the server's happening.

No one push Foolish off his builds.

No one steals Maximus' chair.

No one tells Mariana he's pretty in his new clothes.

No one sees Dapper's new machines.

There's no new machines.

Outside, the world starts to move again.

There's potato crates on his porch and Venus' sibling is hanging out in his garden.

There's two paintings hanging on the wall besides his waystone.

There's a statue of Dapper in the middle of the farm.

There's some new armour, foods, books filled with love, lore and tears, blue furniture, a new scarf,

And an egg, stopping by every day after his dad is gone, just to look through the window of his best friend.

But Bad doesn't get out of bed so he doesn't know.

He can't bring himself to see Dapper's machines rusting because he doesn't know how to care for them, to see the farm his son planted, to see the animals they searched for for so long.

The eggs look like him, Leo in their long legs, Tallulah in her pointy chin, Chayanne in the way he adjusts his bangs, Pomme in her handwriting, Ramón in his smile.

Dapper's ghost is everywhere he lays his eyes upon.

Guiding a child down the path to hell is always a heartbreak.

Dapper didn't cry when Bad came to finish the travel.

He didn't shake, he didn't run, he hadn't ask for anything.

Maybe that was worse, to see the flick of fatality dancing in your children's eyes. To wonder where you had failed. To see your reflection in their pupils. To not be able to stand the sight of your mere silhouette in their soon-to-be-dull orbits.

She gave them some time to say goodbye.

Death isn't fair but death isn't inherentely evil.

It just exists.

They talked for a little bit, about the future, about their best memories, about the art gallery and the struggle to complete it, about what they would have for dinner tonight. For a few minutes, it didn't matter that Dapper wouldn't go home at the end of the day. That Bad would go to bed and no get out before a long time. That the world was now cold and dark.

In this instant, only them mattered.

And then time was up.

An entire lifetime worth of love had to fit in a few minutes.

Billions of years wouldn't be enough.

Bad would kill dozens of men for one more second.

He ignored the water in his eyes and his trembling chin, just to cup his son's face one last time. He was beautiful, with long and dark hair, his top hat and his big eyes. His hands were small, his knees scratched and he had one tooth missing.

Dapper was a kid. Just a little kid. It wasn't fair. But Bad has no power over death.

So he just let go of his son and guide him gently back onto the path, nodding when his child look at him with doubts.

Dapper looked at Her, glanced at him again, before bursting in tears. He's scared. He wants to go home. He wants his dad, always, forever, not this unknown scary giant lady. But he doesn't say anything, his hands busy gripping at his shirt.

"-It's ok Dapper, you'll be safe. She's really nice, you know? And you'll see Bobby there! It's gonna be tons of fun, alright?"

The small boy nodded, tears still streaming down his face, before getting out of his father's embrace. He didn't look back this time. He wouldn't have been able to get away.

Bad watched his son walk along the path, now on his own. He barely allowed himself to blink, in hope to keep his image imprinted under his eyelids.

He waved goodbye until the horizon swallowed the frail body, until shadows were the only things left for him to wave at.

Until small hands carried one last message.

"I love you dad!"

"I love you, son."

[spiribia]

kind of go ham over that cut 'chell and potatOS come across cave johnsons consciousness stored in a cube' scene. he clearly actually cared enough about caroline in this version of events that when you gave him the sweet release of death he was like 'Caroline im coming!'. but whatever his fondness for her, in that timeline, it's stated cave had caroline uploaded first as sort of his food poison taster equivalent for uploading consciousnesses to machines, a test of the water before he tried out this immortality for himself. ultimately cowardly and selfish throwing of her under the bus for his own sake anyway. kind of interesting insight into his character. even if he did love her in some way, he was more important to himself in the end. he recognizes glados' voice as carolines. and then glados just tells him to stfu and is like chell kill this man. not even because she recognizes him (a part of her does and that bothers her) but because hes annoying her.

[lady-of-imladris]

Lovelorien

This is my humble participation for HaladrielWeek day 3

Thank you @somebirdortheother for giving me this idea <3

Word count: 800

Tags: Alternate Universe: Modern, Online Dating

Summary: Galadriel is tired and bored. She goes on a dating app.

It was about 6 pm on a Wednesday when Galadriel finally peeled herself out of bed. Damned 72-hour shifts. If there was one thing she hated about her life as a paramedic, it was the fucked up working hours. She sat for a moment and stared blankly at the wall, trying to decide whether she would shower first or eat first. It was definitely "eat" first, since she would have to wash her hair and right now, she was too hungry for that.

Galadriel walked out of her bedroom and into the kitchen, almost tripping over her cat in the process. “Sorry Elrond”, she muttered, and stumbled towards the fridge. “Please don’t be empty, please don’t be empty”, she silently prayed before opening it. Success. A bag of shredded cheese and some ketchup. Triumphantly, Galadriel cut up some potatoes and put them in her air fryer. She loved that thing so much.

She sat down on the cold kitchen floor and took out her phone. The news was depressing as always, and after about five minutes of doom scrolling, Galadriel got bored. Back to online dating it was. Lovelorien was all the rage with people who loved animals, and Galadriel always knew that if she could ever fall in love, it would be with a fellow animal lover.

Halbrand’s profile stood out to her immediately. He was wearing a firefighter uniform and holding a tiny little black cat. “Ask me about Mairon, his bio said. Fuck it. She swiped right. It was a match. At that moment the alarm of the air fryer went off and Galadriel got up to toss some cheese over her potatoes. Two more minutes now, she knew this appliance inside out. Elrond suddenly appeared in the kitchen and rubbed his head on her legs. “Gotta pay the cheese tax”, Galadriel chuckled, and fed Elrond some cheese.

Elrond went back to sleep, and Galadriel sat down to have Breakfast/Dinner. She got out her phone while eating, and saw that she got a message from Halbrand.

H: If you were a vegetable, you would certainly be a sweet potato ;)

G: Fitting, I’m having potatoes for breakfast right now :)

H: Breakfast? It is 6 pm, when did you go to sleep?

G: At about 10 am. I’m a paramedic, had a long shift.

Halbrand is typing…

Galadriel put her phone back away and put the dishes in the sink. That was a problem for later. She changed her linens, tossed all her dirty clothes into the washing machine and jumped under the shower. Today felt like a full beauty routine shower. She even shaved her legs. Galadriel emerged a full hour later, put on her coziest clothes, and flopped down on the couch. The blinking of a green light on her phone told her she had a new message. It was from Halbrand.

H: A paramedic, that is good, because I think my heart just stopped ;)

Galadriel rolled her eyes. Some days she was really asking herself why she ever downloaded Lovelorien in the first place.

G: Good thing you’re a firefighter. I might need help getting down from a tree sometime, I love climbing tall things when I’m drunk.

H: You are very lucky indeed then, I excel at getting adorable tiny things out of trees ;). And if you want to be safe… I’m 6’3, you can climb me anytime you want ;)

Galadriel tossed her phone to the other side of the sofa and stared blankly at the ceiling before chasing after it to text him back.

G: So I gotta ask you obviously, who’s Mairon?

H: Mairon is this adorable little fluffy kitten I rescued from a tree a month ago. I adopted him :) What kind of pet do you have?

Galadriel sent Halbrand a picture of Elrond, who was napping on the sofa next to her.

G: This is Elrond, he just demanded the cheese tax and went back to sleep

Halbrand responded with a series of the usual fuckboy emojis.

Galadriel directed her attention back at the TV show she was watching, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him for some reason. That firefighter uniform did things to her. She opened her phone as soon as she got the notification.

H: Do you wanna hang out sometime?

G: I barely even know you. You could be evil for all I know. Is Halbrand even your real name?

H: I have many names, you can call me whatever you want babe. And you may not know me yet, but one day, I could make you my queen.

And in that moment Galadriel knew that she had to meet him. It had been decided, and the tides of fate were flowing.

Notes: I really wanted to make this longer and maybe a bit spicy, but I just wasn't feeling it this past week. The inspiration behind Galadriel is tired exam week me *looks over at air fryer* I love this thing so much. Also yes I made Elrond a cat. Try to stop me.

Taglist: @fenharel-enaste

[rgr-pop]

meal plan text asmr

i normally have breakfast at work because of my proton pump inhibitor. tomorrow i wfh the morning to do a training so i’ll be having sesame toast with a boiled egg, feta, and whatever pickle and veg looks good. then for the rest of the week’s breakfasts i have one yogurt (lucas found me the icelandic coffee yogurt!!) and friday morning tbh, probably the last of my ezekiel toast with communal work peanut butter unless i pick up cottage cheese/yogurt. today i worked remotely at a coffee shop and i grabbed a bad scone, RIP. (adding to shopping list: ezekiel bread, greek yogurt, cottage cheese, bananas, the icelandic coffee yogurt but that’s only at whole foods.)

at work right now i’ve been having paramount (local brand) k cups that corey gifted me. i got him a gift card for the new downtown coffee shop so he can grab it between his bus job (he herds teenagers for the school public bus program. his real title is abussador :)) and he got me k cups for my work. i froth half and half to dress up the k cup, and my coworker brought in half and half she needs used up, so i don’t need to bring mine. (another week before i have to buy more.) i hate using the disposables and am considering literally committing to work french press like an absolute psycho—i just can’t get myself enough time before work to make and bring it from home and the refillable k cups will do but are gross. if you have to survive a keurig at work i recommend nasty refillables + steaming and frothing milk. i have half a bag of not great beans at home. I’ve been spending more on nicer beans for home and it has been worth it, but I am still not quite sure what I like. (on shopping list: coffee beans, decaf beans for winter evening treats.)

came home with a coffee shop noise pollution migraine and made myself cheese ramen with cilantro, sesame seeds, green onion, and a side of this week’s pickled carrot slaw. ramen made two servings for me. it was the last of my shin black and third to last slice of ramen cheese. my cilantro will last another weekend and i have at least week’s worth of parsley and green onions. (adding to the shopping list: shin black, cheese singles, frozen corn, and since i’m thinking about it, shredded mozz for buldak/corn cheese.)

for lunches wednesday-friday i will have dumplings from the freezer (the ones i made and some other ones i have), leftover ramen, and a carrot and cucumber salad (my last two fresh salad vegetables, but i will probably wait out purchasing more). to prep tonight: jar of dumpling sauce, salad. (dumplings are already on my shopping list when i see some that look good. adding dumpling wrappers—making and freezing them was so worth it, but i felt like making the dough wasn’t.)

complicating factor: i should make myself something sweet to keep me out of the vending machines at work. at home i’ve been having what i believe to be yaourti me meli (greek yogurt, walnuts, honey, cinnamon?) but i’m out. i’d like to make a second french yogurt cake to compare it to the other recipe, but again, out. i would also also like to make a coffee cake type food for someone coming over saturday afternoon. do i make a little loaf cake with what i have tonight to get me through the week and then a second thing then? do i have friday plans? if i bake a little quick bread or pound cake for myself tonight it will really cut down on my food ruminations. (adding to shopping list: greek yogurt, walnuts, honey, dried fruit, butter.. baking supplies need inventorying but i’m almost sure i have enough of the basics.)

what am i having for dinners? i need to minimize the chance that i spend any non-grocery money before next week—i will be having a crazy week and likely blowing money i don’t have. tonight i’m having leftover cannellini beans cacio e pepe (‼️ make this ‼️). i have enough beans (although running low) to continue having beans meals, but i really really really desire to put my beans meals on potatoes. (‼️ fusion jacket potatoes ‼️ make this ‼️). matias made these perfect black beans with pork and salsa verde and it’s all i can think about. can i pull this off with freezer bacon… i have enough of a serrano to get me through. (adding to shopping list: russet potatoes, garlic, sour cream, avocado, cheap canned black beans, decent looking dried black beans, slightly nice italian brand butter beans and cannellini beans, bell pepper, tomatillos, tomatoes, mexican oregano, sweet potato, pork?? i will put this on my list but never buy it.)

i would also like to make salmon rice bowls with avocado, pickled veg/carrot slaw, cucumbers, etc. to use up my freezer salmon. i would prefer to wait to do this til i’m keeping salad greens (leftover salmon for salads is key for a working woman…)

in two weeks i will make something for a certain someone’s birthday and batch up some granola. i’ve been wanting to try making coffee granola. i also have to make a lasagna before the end of winter this year or i must be executed.

what i’m bringing to work tomorrow for the rest of the week: salad, bags of dumplings, ramen, cilantro (packed separately), one boiled egg, one yogurt, dumpling sauce and any other condiments that look good, and a sweet if i can pull it off.

the question i can only answer for myself tomorrow at 4pm: am i going to the grocery store?

[cnyazhongmachinery]

vegetable and fruit cutting machine | root vegetable cutter for sale | potato cutter price

Carrot cutting machine is used for cutting carrot into strips easily and quickly. It is not only suitable for root vegetable, but also leafy vegetable. https://www.cnyazhong.com/products/VFD-Multifunction-Vegetable-Cutter.html wechat/whatsapp:8613213203466

[imtryingmybeskar]

Come Home Chapter Twenty Two

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Word count: 7,397

The summer cookout is a time for joy and relaxation (and some much needed alone time for you and Joel!)

But nothing in this world is ever permanent...

We're ramping up the smut a little in this chapter. I hope you all enjoy! (Also when he says "You imagined it?" I immediately thought of the sweet, eager way he said "You got me a present?" to Sarah in the first episode. Hence the gif choice!)

Come Home

Chapter Twenty Two - The Happening

The summer cookout in Jackson was anticipated with just as much excitement and fanfare as the Winter Dance. Every time you moved through the town you would hear snatches of conversation about it – the decorations that were to be hung, the dishes to be made, hopes that the good weather would hold out.

That you and Joel would be attending together was no secret of course, but you had also decided to pool your resources and bring a selection of food between you. He had also promised you a surprise, and in your excitement you found yourself asking about it almost as frequently as Ellie had asked about her birthday, but he was as tight lipped now as he had been then.

What he didn’t know was that you had an ongoing secret plan of your own. Since Mrs Drew had allowed you access to her sewing machine you had been working on a project – a summer dress that you hoped would drive him wild. You had searched through the clothing supplies in the central stores of Jackson and eventually found something that looked like it might have once been a nightgown. It was powder blue and very long, with an empire neckline and long sleeves. You had removed these, cut and hemmed it so that it would sit mid-thigh instead, and were currently in the process of taking in the waist so it was more form fitting.

Mrs. Drew had not been shy about voicing her opinions.

“Your young man is going to have difficulty keeping his hands to himself!” she had cackled.

“He’s fifty three!”

“If he’s young enough to get excited by you in that dress, he’s young,” she had insisted, making you laugh.

Shoes were the only thing you were slightly concerned about, as you really didn’t want to wear your boots, but Vanessa came to the rescue when you told her what you were planning. She was due to ride out to inspect the town that you and Joel had delivered supplies to all those months back, and she promised she would try to find something suitable for you. She returned with a pair of plain black ballet pumps, jewelled sandals that were surprisingly intact and some silver stilettos that were absolutely beautiful but that you were sure you wouldn’t be able to walk in after years of practical footwear.

The day of the cookout you’re up early to make potato salad, roasted vegetables and a buttery oat and blueberry traybake. Your front and back doors are wide open to counter the heat from your kitchen and Ellie flits between your house and Joel’s, assisting and hampering your progress in equal measures.

“Hey!” you say as she nabs yet another piece of potato salad. “Not cool! There won’t be any left if you keep this up!”

“She robbin’ you blind too?” come Joel’s gravelly tones from your doorway.

“Hey, I can’t help it if you’re both good cooks,” Ellie says after swallowing.

“Your flattery will get you nowhere, missy,” you reply jokingly, re-covering the potato salad from where she had opened it up.

“What about my flattery? Will that get me anywhere?” Joel asks smoothly as he enters your kitchen, a distinctly flirtatious tone to his voice.

“Annnd that’s my cue to leave,” Ellie says, jumping up from her seat.

“Hey, it worked! The food is safe once more,” Joel grins.

“You dick!” Ellie rolls her eyes before departing from the same door Joel came into. “I’m just gonna eat your food now!” she calls back as she walks away.

“I do not doubt that,” Joel mutters before planting a kiss on your cheek. “Which means I gotta go stop her. That girl is like a plague of locusts all on her own! I just wanted to see if you needed any help with anything.”

“Thank you, but I’m good,” you say turning to him and clasping your hands around the back of his neck. “Might need some help carrying it into town, that’s all.”

“People are gonna start getting’ there around three or so. I’ll come by then?”

“Sounds good to me,” you say leaning up to kiss him, excited anticipation thrumming through you at the thought of his reaction to your outfit.

It does look good, you have to admit. Another little piece of life past that you thought had been permanently buried and that Jackson was allowing to shine through again. The heels were more comfortable than you had anticipated, though you didn’t doubt that you would be cursing them after a few hours. You decided upon the sandals instead, promising yourself to give Joel a more private viewing of the stilettos another time. The empire neckline is very flattering, skimming the top of your bra in just the right way that you show a little cleavage, but won’t feel too exposed. You grab a cardigan too, in anticipation of the evening time chill, and in case you start to feel self-conscious about the scarring that can partially be seen on your upper shoulder. The wounds have healed as well as can be hoped, but still stand angrily against the rest of your skin.

Just as you’re finishing packing up the food into bags, a knock comes at the door and Ellie enters.

“You ready?” she’s saying before she’s even inside. “We’re gonna-wow!”

“I’m hoping that’s a good ‘wow’ and not a ‘what the fuck are you thinking’ one,” you grin.

“Dude, you look great! Where have you been hiding that?”

“Thank you! I made it. Thought I could try to make myself look decent for once instead of stomping around here covered in manure and hay!”

“Joel’s gonna lose it,” she grins, and then catches herself, her nose wrinkling as a faint look of disgust passes over her face. “You guys can stay the hell away from me tonight,” she adds, a jibing tone softening her words.

“Fair,” you agree. “Let’s go.”

Joel has his back to your house as you emerge from it and close the front door, Ellie thundering down the steps ahead of you. He turns as he hears the noise, and you see the precise moment that all thought leaves his brain. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open slightly as he sees you and you try very hard not to laugh and ruin the effect you’re having on him, choosing instead to pretend you had no idea that he was currently short circuiting inside.

You make your way daintily down the steps, swaying your hips just a little more than came naturally as you moved and setting the light cotton material to brushing against your bare thighs.

“Ready to go, Miller?” you purr.

“Uhh…uh yeah. Yeah,” he replies, sounding a little dazed.

Ellie rolls her eyes. “This is gonna be a long night,” she mutters darkly.

From your peripheral vison, you see Joel’s eyes consistently sliding over on the walk to town, drawn inexorably to you. Every time they do, he stares for a few moments before coming to himself and dragging his gaze away to focus on the path ahead again. The thrill of power rushes through you and wonder how long it will be before he finally snaps and drags you away from the party for a little one on one time.

The town is bustling and jovial. Streams of homemade bunting twine down pillars and flutter from the roofs, waving gaily in the soft summer breeze. Laughter and chattering voices are raised above the strains of exuberant fiddle playing, the hiss and sizzle of cooking meat underpinning it all. The smells are gorgeous, chicken and sweet barbeque and woodsmoke all coming together to hurl you back to a more civilised time. You approach the already heaving trestle tables to add your contributions where you are intercepted by Vanessa and Chloe who draw you into hugs one after the other, and who fuss over your dress and praise your sewing skills.

The long afternoon changes to early evening almost imperceptibly. Everyone is laughing and smiling and there are more than a few loud conversations as the alcohol and food flow through the populace. You and Joel draw together and break apart, floating on the tides of friendship and laughter as you circulate through the crowd. Whenever he is next to you his hand invariably finds its way into yours, or on to the small of your back or around your shoulders, and his gaze lingers long on your eyes, your face, your body. His own eyes are full of smiles and a softness that makes your chest fill to over brimming with breathless excitement.

Ellie comes and goes too, but you notice she is sticking particularly close to the girl with the lotus tattoo that you had seen at the movie night. After a bathroom break, you emerge from the bar to find them talking outside. You edge closer to them, not wanting to disrupt their evening, but curious to know if this is the famed tattoo artist you had heard about. Ellie spots you and waves you over.

“Good evening?” you ask.

“Pretty good, yeah,” she replies casually. “This is Cat,” she adds.

“Hi,” you say, introducing yourself with a wave. “Nice to meet you. Am I right in thinking that you’re our resident tattoo expert?”

“Expert is a strong word,” Cat says with a laugh. “But I have a little studio set up at home. Why, you want another?"

“I’m thinking about it,” you admit. “How would I go about paying you?”

“You made that traybake, right? I could go for more of that. Like…a LOT more. It’s damn good! And Ellie told me you know how to knit. Could you teach me?”

“Of course. Come by any time. And I don’t know if you go on patrol but if you ever want something from outside let me know. As soon as I can get back out there I’ll try to find whatever it is.”

A pained expression passes over Cat’s face. “Yeah, I heard about your accident. Sounded rough.”

“Not infected, not dead,” you shrug. “Could have been much worse.”

You spend a few minutes showing Cat your various tattoos, exclaiming over hers and telling her about parlours from before the world fell, but you get the feeling Ellie would prefer to be alone with her, so before too long you make your excuses and wander off to find Joel. On the way you stop to root through a cooler packed with ice, eventually drawing out a couple of cold beers for you both.

You spy him from afar – those broad shoulders are hard to miss, even in a crowd. He is talking to Tommy, and from this distance and with them stood so close together you can see the familial resemblance more and more - the carelessly curly hair, the broad shoulders, their noses and eyes.

Tommy spots you approaching and tips his beer bottle toward you in greeting. Joel’s grin grows wider as he looks up sees you too, and he mutters something to Tommy that makes him smile as well. He claps Joel heartily on the shoulder and moves away before you reach him, leaving the two of you alone.

You hand Joel his beer and clink the neck of it delicately against your own before taking a sip.

“So…how you doing, Miller?”

You can see the struggle within him but try as he might, Joel’s eyes still slide down your body, catching on the swell of your breasts at your neckline, the way the hem of your skirt brushes your thighs, your bare legs.

“Joel?” you prompt after a full ten seconds of silence.

“Yes!” he says, his eyes snapping back to yours and his voice forceful with an “I was definitely paying attention” note to it.

“I asked if you’re okay,” you giggle, sliding your arm around his waist and looking up at him.

“Oh you know I ain’t,” he grins. “Since someone decided to wear the prettiest damn dress I’ve seen in years. Where did you even get that?”

“Made it,” you say casually. “I was hoping you’d like it. Also it’s keeping me nice and cool right now.”

“Not me,” he murmurs, his eyes roving over you hungrily again. “I am feelin’ distinctly warm.”

“We can erm…we can go to the stables? I mean if you want,” you offer, raising a cheeky eyebrow at him.

“I got a better idea. Time for your surprise I think.”

He grabs his backpack from where it rests beside one of the tables before catching hold of your hand and beginning to lead you away from the main thoroughfare of Jackson toward the fields of pasture that you were working in and around so regularly these days. He guides you decisively to a particular one of them, leading you to believe that he has reconned this particular mission thoroughly. The field he enters is on a slight incline, giving you a magnificent overview of the vastness of the setting sun in the evening sky whilst also affording you a degree of privacy from the rest of Jackson as you walk down it a little way.

“Here’s good,” Joel says as he stops, hands you his beer to hold, drops his pack to the ground and begins to rummage through it.

He produces a large, checkered blanket in red and white which he lays upon the ground, putting his pack at one end in case an errant gust decides to try to carry it away. As you kneel at the other end he takes out a Tupperware box and takes off the lid to reveal a pile of large, ripe strawberries that he places reverently on the blanket. A bundle that looks very much like one of his t-shirts emerges next, from which he produces two wine glasses that were nestled within and which he also places down carefully. Finally, he lifts a wine bottle from his backpack, along with a corkscrew. He uncorks the wine to breathe and places it on the ground, flattening the grass and pressing it firmly into the dirt so it doesn’t tip over.

The grin on your face is wide and joyful and he matches it as he looks down at you.

“I realised,” he says slowly, grunting as he lowers himself on to the blanket next to you, “that we have never been on a proper date. And I just could not let that slide.”

“Glad I accidentally dressed for the occasion,” you smile as you lean forward to kiss him softly. “And you certainly know how to pull out the stops, Miller.”

“You like it?”

“It’s perfect,” you assure him.

He lies down, propped up by one elbow. You seat yourself next to him, tucking your legs under you to one side and resting your hand on his hip after you give him his beer.

“Here’s to our first date,” you say, clinking the beer bottle against his again.

“Our first date,” he echoes. “And to you. For…for givin’ me another chance. You woulda been well within your rights to never speak to me again. But you did and-“ He takes a deep breath, and you can see him mentally fortifying himself to continue speaking. “-and I ain’t been this happy in a long time.”

The sincerity of his words and the fact that he is sharing his feelings openly like this blindsides you, temporarily causes your brain to stall and the feelings within you to amplify and stutter within your chest with how overpowering they are. Your first thought is of how you feel the same way, how his presence in your life has reignited feelings you swore were dead and buried years ago, and how you can tell him that without it sounding trite or like you were just echoing his sentiments for the sake of it.

Your second thought is of how you supposed you could have never spoken to him, but deep down you know that had never been a real option. You had missed his company so desperately when he hadn’t been around, and now that you are thinking about it more fully, you realise that period had been the first real glimpse into the profundity of the emotions that were now so present in your everyday life. That the absence of him had left such a gaping chasm so quickly had led to the inescapable and frankly terrifying conclusion that you had come to depend on him. And that having him here with you like this felt so fucking perfect, so fucking right was swiftly leading you to another that was equally alarming. But you can’t find it in yourself to allow those anxieties to enter this moment. Not when he’s lying right in front of you looking so handsome, with one hand resting against his head and his fingers disappearing and reappearing within the salt and pepper of his hair, the other hand grasping his beer bottle like a lifeline and rubbing his thumb over it in nervous movement.

“Say somethin’?” he says and there’s a note of pleading that you have never heard in his voice before. You realise you’ve been silent for a long time, just staring at him, and as he raises his eyes to you there’s another first. The openness and pure vulnerability in those warm chocolate depths delivers a sucker punch to your heart, and you can do nothing in this moment except lean forward and kiss him. Its soft and slow, and you feel as if you’re somehow juggling both his heart and yours, desperate not to drop them, aching to make him understand how deeply he affects you, yearning to make him feel happy every single day.

You draw back and stroke your thumb over his whiskered cheek as you cradle his face in your hand and this time you steel yourself to speak.

“There…was never another choice,” you admit quietly. “You make me so happy, Joel. You always have. Except well…you know.” He drops his eyes to his beer bottle again, his face closing off a little in his shame. “I never thought we’d end up like this,” you continue. “I just wanted my friend back. But having you this way…it’s better than I ever imagined.”

“You imagined it?” he asks, his eyes snapping to your face again eagerly.

“Yes, idiot, I imagined it,” you say, unable to stop the smile that slides across your face.

“Well, I did too,” he confesses, his hand leaving the beer bottle to take yours. “Especially after you asked me to stay that night.”

You groan and close your eyes against the memory of your drunkenness.

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I uh…I woke up in the night and I was cuddling you.”

“I know,” he smiles softly. “I woke up too when you put your arm round me and pushed yourself against my back. I didn’t know if I should try to move away, but I realised that I really didn’t want to. No regrets. Best damn night’s sleep I’d had in years.”

You drain your beer and place it to the side before lying down next to him, mirroring his position with your elbow propping you up.

“Well,” you sigh, sliding your hand around his waist. “I say we should have a repeat performance then. In the interests of a good night’s sleep of course.”

“Oh of course,” he frowns, all mock seriousness until the sunshine of his smile breaks through again.

“Can’t promise I’ll be quite so hands off this time though,” you add, slipping your hand under his t-shirt to stroke over his bare skin.

“Oh I’m countin’ on it,” he rumbles as he rolls forward, gently pinning you to the blanket and kissing you sweetly.

The strawberries are delicious, perfectly ripe and juicy. So ripe in fact that one almost explodes as you bite into it, the pink juice running down your chin and dripping on to the top of your breast. Luckily, Joel is there to catch it with his thumb, the pad sliding smoothly on your skin, up the slope of your breast, and making you shiver.

“Can’t be ruinin’ that pretty dress,” he winks at you as he sucks the sweetness from his finger.

The wine is also delicious, but much stronger than you had anticipated and you’re glad he only brought one bottle with him. You drink and eat and chatter and laugh together. He is glorious by the light of the long-setting sun – his skin seeming to glow golden in its hazy, warming light, his arms all sinuous muscle as they prop him up, his face less laden with worries than you ever remember it being, and his smile wide and insistent and true.

“What’s the best date you ever went on?” you eventually ask, the buzz of alcohol flowing through you and removing some of the barriers to your curiosity about him.

“This one. Obviously,” he smiles. “But before…I guess it was probably with Sarah’s mom. In fact, I think it was the night that Sarah was…y’know…made.”

The snort that you make is in no way attractive, but you can’t help it. “Made?!”

“Conceived then. I dunno how to say it without soundin’ stupid,” he grins. “But that night…well I dunno if it even counts as a proper date really. But it sure was memorable. We’d had a fight. We fought a lot back then. Always somethin’ stupid, I don’t even remember what it was about this time. And I was so tired. Of fightin’ and from the day and I just needed to get outta there. Outta that apartment, outta that situation. So there she is, lookin’ at me like I pissed in her cereal after screamin’ blue hell at me, and I just grab her hand and walk. She asks me where we’re goin’ and I say I don’t know. And we just got in the car and drove. Windows down, music up. Ended up singin’ along and laughin’ together and it was like the fight never even happened. We made it to this little place on the edge of the city, overlookin’ it and we just sat on the hood together and watched the lights.”

“That sounds pretty romantic actually.”

“It was. Until it started rainin’.”

“Ah but you see, you forget that I know what you look like caught in the rain. No wonder she couldn’t resist you. I know I couldn’t.”

Joel smiles and looks down at the blanket, and the sweet self-consciousness of his expression makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“C’mere,” he says, taking your wine glass and placing it on the ground next to his own. He draws you down, wrapping one arm around you so you’re lying next to him with your head on his shoulder. The sky above you has faded from a rosy gold to a chillier lilac, the first brightest stars already appearing, and the breeze is still warm and welcoming as it gently whispers across your skin.

“So what was your best date?” he asks. “Apart from this, of course,” he adds cheekily.

“Six month anniversary with Alex,” you reply, and then immediately freeze. The words had just slid right out, no hesitation, no stumbling over her name. To cover your shock you turn on your side, nestling closer to Joel and placing your hand over his chest. He takes it, covering it over with his and lacing his fingers with yours.

It's bizarre, this feeling. A warring within of two versions of yourself. The person that you had held on to for so many years, that had been so deeply affected by what had happened, by what you had seen and done, the part that made you sleep in a bathtub, that closed your airways at the mere thought of her name. And then this you – here and now, lying peacefully on a hillside at sunset with the man that you were falling in love with. And you knew now for a certainty that you were. Your thoughts around him were tinged with brightness, his smile made you weak, the mere touch of his skin upon yours was electric. He made you feel safe and wanted and like you were something he had been desperately missing, though you knew that wasn’t entirely true. He had been happy before you came, as far as you could tell. Happy in Jackson with his family. Still…the way he looked at you, the way he kissed you, the way he wanted to be close to you. It all spoke to an acute need within him that you were fulfilling. And you hoped with every fibre of your being that it was true.

“What did you do?” he asks softly.

You know you could back out. You could tell him that you couldn’t talk about it, or even that you didn’t want to and you know he would respect that and nothing would change between you. But for the first time in as far back as you can remember you want to say something about her. You want to share openly and honestly, to feed that part of you that connects with him and allow the closed off part of you to wither away and die. And you want to supplant the final memories you have of her, replace them with happier and more vibrant times. You take a deep breath and ground yourself in the feeling of Joel surrounding you before you speak again.

“We went to the carnival. She…she was studying medicine at the time and she was always stressed out and overworked. But that evening we went and we just had an entire evening of fun. I won her a giant stuffed dragon at one of the games almost as soon as we got there and she had to carry it with her the whole time. It came with us on the rides and everything. We nearly made ourselves sick with the amount of funnel cake we ate. And then we sat on the pier and watched the sun set. It was just us you know? Like no one else existed.”

“I think I have an inklin’” Joel says, the rumble of his low voice vibrating through you as he holds you tighter to him. It is like that here, you realise. The strains of the sounds of the cookout are almost fully muted by the buildings and expanse of pasture between you and the others. All you can hear are the birds, the breeze, Joel’s breathing and heartbeat. You might as well be the only two people on earth.

“Thank you for doing this,” you whisper, your voice emerging much softer than you had intended.

He kisses your forehead, the whiskery brush of his beard a little ticklish against your skin.

“Any time, sweetheart.”

You lie there together in peaceful silence for a while, enjoying the evening birdsong, the warmth of his body, the comforting scent of him surrounding you. Perhaps it was the beauty of your surroundings, or simply having him so close, but you didn’t feel the way you thought you would about sharing some of your past with him. You felt more rounded, more whole. As if a damaged part of you was slightly less jagged and no longer rubbing other parts of you raw.

The stars are shining more fully now as the sun gives way to the twinkling darkness and you point out the constellations you know and can see to each other. Joel is surprisingly knowledgeable, and he admits that he’s been doing his homework to be able to talk to Ellie more deeply about the thing she loves.

You turn your face away from the sky in favour of looking at him beside you. His hair is ruffling softly in the breeze, his eyes seem black in the fading light. You want to tell him how you feel, how much he means to you in this moment and always, but your words have been robbed from you by how truly beautiful he is. But your silence doesn’t matter. He turns on his side to face you more fully and you see it in his eyes too. He’s looking at your face as if he never wanted to look anywhere else again and his hand is warm against your skin as he cradles your jaw and strokes his thumb over your cheek. You nuzzle into his touch and press your lips to his palm.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur against his skin.

“Never been called that before,” he smiles.

“You are,” you insist. “The most beautiful man. And not just because of this.” Bringing your own hand to his face you trace the lines of his forehead, how the skin of his temple and cheek turn to coarse hair, the warmth and plumpness of his lips. “Because you care. And you let people know that you care. Generous. Kind. Thoughtful.”

Before you can continue your litany he surges forward and kisses you slowly and deeply, his breath hot against you. Your mind blanks on whatever else it was you wanted to say. All you can concentrate on is him, so close and so present. His nose brushes over yours before he kisses that too, and your forehead and all over your cheeks and even your chin before he returns to your lips. There’s an urgency about him now, something of iron at the heart of the affection and when he runs out of breath you pull away slightly to look at him again.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“It’s…it’s nothin’,” he says softly. “I just…I find it hard to hear that. It’s not how I see myself. All the things I’ve done…” He trails off, and the furrow that has appeared at his brow near breaks your heart.

“It’s how I see you,” you say softly as you cup his face. “I don’t care about what you’ve done. I don’t care about who you were before Jackson, before everything. I care about you now. This person in front of me.”

“But if you knew-“

“I can guarantee that what you’ve done, I’ve done. It’s just how it is now. None of us can go back to who we were. But I want this Joel. Right now, here with me. If I don’t have to be shy with you, you don’t have to hide from me.”

A look of wonderment creeps into his expression. He looks like he wants to say something but that the words won’t come, and after a few moments you take pity on him instead of trying to make him fill the silence.

“You wanna know what I called you in my head before I knew your name?” you smile.

“Ooof, do I wanna know?!” he replies.

“Ruggedly Handsome,” you confess. He snorts a laugh and presses his forehead against your cheek as the ripples of humour run through his body.

“Aw, that’s cute,” he teases, still half laughing as he drags his head up to face you again. “You were Blanket Girl to me at first.”

“Blanket Gi-Joel that’s the worst name I’ve ever heard!” you say indignantly.

“You looked cute all wrapped up in those blankets!” he protests, trying to defend himself. “It stayed with me. Besides, I’m not sure anything can compete with Ruggedly Handsome!”

He joins in with your laughter, the sound loud and joyful in the midst of the quiet of the summer night. As the sound dies away, the humour also fades from his eyes, replaced with urgency and truth.

“You really do look amazin’ you know,” he says softly. “Every day. Not just today.”

“So do you.”

“What? This old thing?” he chuckles, clutching at the hem of his shirt.

“Yes,” you affirm, covering his hand with yours and stroking the skin of his stomach softly. “In everything. And in nothing too, I’ll bet,” you add, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“We’ll have to test that theory one day,” he hums as he rolls toward you, propping himself up on one elbow and caressing your cheek with his other hand.

The weight of him above you is everything you want right now, and you look deeply into the darkness of his eyes before you lean up and kiss him, soft heat flaring within you as your lips meet. Your hands are in his hair, running through his waves as you pull him closer, running your tongue over his bottom lip before he opens to you with a rumbling hum. He’s already half hard and before he can scoot backward to put some distance between you, you trail your hand down his back to the curve of his ass, kneading the firm muscle before pulling him closer to you, feeling him swell further against your thigh.

His hand trails down your cheek, your neck, your chest, and you emit a needy little noise against his mouth as his finger brushes your hardened nipple.

“Fuck, I love hearin’ you,” he whispers fervently.

“I wanna hear you,” you reply just as urgently as you bring your hand around to stroke over the front of his jeans. He exhales sharply at your touch and takes a shuddering breath in as you run your fingers up and down his shaft within the denim before lightly skating upward to where the trail of hair from his belly button disappears behind the button of his jeans.

When you begin to fumble with it, he draws back so he can see you more fully.

“You sure?” he asks, his voice breathless and unsteady.

“I wanna touch you,” you say in a voice that’s half a moan already. He rests his weight on one hip to help as you flick his button open and draw the zip down, releasing him from where he has been confined. You stroke your fingers softly over the magnificent tenting in his boxer briefs, a shiver of excitement passing through you and ending up somewhere between your legs.

It's too dark to see him properly, but you can feel the circular patch of wetness on his underwear and it stokes the simmering inside to a furnace. He’s brushing his lips over your neck as you run a finger around the elastic, dragging it down to free him fully and when you grasp him he chokes out a moan that sends a shiver through you. He is iron clad in velvet and he whispers a breathy ”Fuck” into your temple as you begin to stroke him.

You want to kiss him, want to take him into your mouth, want to feel his tongue on your skin, feel his palms against your breasts. You want so much and before you think about what you’re doing your other hand is between your legs, slipping under the damp material of your own underwear to seek some relief. Lost in the feeling of your hand wrapped around him, he doesn’t seem to realise, at least not until your breathing starts to come stuttered.

“Fuck,” he whispers again. “Can I-“

“Please, Joel,” you whine, not knowing what he wants to do but wanting to give him anything and everything at this moment.

His palm slides down your neck, over the slope of your breasts where he stops briefly to caress you, and then continues down to rub over the soaked strip of fabric that lies between you. His breathing becomes harsher at the feeling of your arousal, and when you take your hand away to grant him greater access he grinds the heel of his palm against you, making you clench around a nothing that you desperately wish was him. You switch hands to touch him, gliding your own slick down over his head and shaft and beginning to pump him in earnest, and the bitten off moan that rumbles through him makes you wetter than ever before.

He gently moves your underwear aside and slowly and reverently runs the pad of his finger up to your clit and down, again and again, spreading your slick all over and drawing moaning sighs from you as warmth begins to spread throughout your lower body.

“Fuck, honey. You’re so wet,” he whispers, nipping at your jaw.

“It’s you. You’re too…fuckin’…much,” you stutter, the English language currently struggling to compete for brainspace with how good he’s making you feel.

He runs his finger down over your clit once more before stilling briefly. His eyes are fixed upon your face as he finally slides one thick finger inside and you see the hunger in his expression before your eyes close of their own accord to try to make sense of the multitude of sensations that erupt within you. He slipped in so easily, so perfectly and he only waits a few brief moments before adding a second. You arch your back, welcoming him and your thighs begin to tremble at the feeling of him filling you.

He repositions, moving so he is kneeling between your legs, and you whimper a little noise of disappointment as he leaves your hand.

“I can’t,” he pants. “You’re too…you’re so…Look at me. I wanna see you.”

Your eyes open to meet his, their dark depths filled with burning desire. He drops his gaze as he pushes further in and then slides out slowly, his eyes fixed on his fingers as they disappear inside of you. Sharp heat is already building, and when he finds the spot he’s looking for he begins to move faster, hitting it every single time. Your hands trail upward to cup your breasts, and you tweak your hardened nipples hard through the thin fabric.

Christ how can anything feel this good? You’re dizzied, trying to drag air into your lungs faster than you’re able, and when his thumb lands on your clit it pushes you impossibly further, the slow build of pleasure suddenly intense and burning.

“Joel,” you whimper.

“I’ve got you,” he rumbles, his eyes now on your face. “I want you to come, honey. Come all over my hand.”

His voice is shaky, and you realise it’s at least partially because he’s also touching himself. The thought is too much and it tips you over, white heat spreading from his hands within you and unfurling through your body as you give him what he wants. He works you through it, kicking it up a notch and focusing with precision upon that place that you can never reach alone. Instead of becoming overstimulated you feel the wave build again before it can fully recede, surging and cresting through you as you cry his name to the skies above.

All too soon you begin to tremble, to skitter away from his touch and he gently withdraws his fingers. Your jaw is slack from your heavy breathing and from the feeling that you can’t really do anything right now except to lie here and bask, and he takes full advantage by leaning over you to kiss you deeply.

As you lie there panting, sweaty and buzzing, his large frame almost covering you and with the feeling of his lips upon yours, you hear a wet sound and realise that he is using your slick to stroke himself.

“So beautiful,” he mumbles against your mouth. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your hands come around to glide up his back, the dewy sheen of sweat over his skin easing the path of your fingertips. He groans at your touch and strokes himself more insistently, your combined wetness sliding over your inner thigh as he presses himself against you, the knuckles of his hand bumping against your skin as he moves. When you run your nails lightly down his back he twitches and judders against you.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “S-so good. I’m-I’m gonna-“

You raise the hem of your dress further, bunching it around your stomach, but you don’t even get the chance to invite him to come on you before he is, a low, hoarse groan erupting from deep within him as you feel hot jets splash thickly all over your thighs.

His breath is warm and heavy and hitching against you as he stills and you are seized with a desire to know, so you reach down and scoop his spend from your skin, licking it from your fingers, the warm saltiness of him serving to flare the arousal in you once more.

“Christ,” he mutters in an awed voice as he watches you.

“You taste so good,” you hum.

“Christ” he repeats as he half collapses on the blanket next to you.

You draw him close and he rests his head on your chest, snuggling into you, his breathing still rapid and uneven.

“Told you I’d get you back, Miller,” you murmur as you kiss the top of his head.

You feel more than hear his chuckle as he replies “That you did.”

“I still feel like I didn’t do enough. We’re gonna have to-“

“Joel!”

The voice is distant and at first you’re not even sure you heard it, given that blood is still pounding in your ears. But then-

“JOEL!”

It’s Tommy, and he sounds panicked.

“Sh-shit,” mutters Joel as he lurches on to his knees and begins to tuck himself away. You sit up too, tugging your dress down and trying to make yourself look partway presentable.

“JOEL!” comes Tommy’s voice again, his pitch now frantic.

“I’m here!” Joel yells back as he stands up, his jeans finally done up again. You hear the sound of rustling grass as Tommy approaches, and by the sounds of it he is running.

“Joel…you gotta come! Raiders…at the dam,” he manages to pant out.

“Fuck,” Joel curses under his breath as he prepares to follow Tommy.

“Wait!” you exclaim. “I’m coming too!”

“No!” Joel says sharply as he turns back to you.

“I can help!” you insist, bending down to begin dragging items into the backpack.

Suddenly Joel’s hand is on your arm and he’s raising you to face him. He holds your shoulders firmly and looks pleadingly into your eyes as he speaks.

“Your first trip back outside can’t be somethin’ like this. You ain’t prepared-"

“I have to go back out sometime!”

“Sweetheart, I know you wanna help but you ain’t even dressed for it. Please. Stay here. I gotta go. Now.”

You bite your lip. He’s right and you know it, no matter how much you want to argue.

“Come back to me,” you plead.

“Always will,” he promises as he kisses you hurriedly before hurrying after Tommy up the hillside.

You clean yourself up more thoroughly and smooth your hair and clothes while your mind is racing at a hundred miles a minute. The dam had been running smoothly for weeks now, and fewer and fewer people had been needed to go out there. Besides that, everyone had wanted to come to the cookout, and while you didn’t doubt Maria had left a guard out there, you wondered how many people had actually been present when it had been attacked. Tommy had sounded panicked and actively frightened when he had called for Joel. You didn’t even know how word had reached Jackson of the incursion. The walkie talkies wouldn’t work over that distance, so you had to assume someone had ridden in. You stuff the remainder of the things into the backpack and sling it over your shoulder. Even though you’d eaten and drunk everything Joel had brought, it seems to weigh a ton as you begin your own trek up the hillside a few minutes after his departure.

When you get back into the main square of Jackson it’s to the unsurprising discovery that the gathering has been thoroughly dispersed and the party atmosphere sullied beyond repair. People stand huddled in groups talking rapidly and worriedly, some busying themselves by gathering up the leftovers to be stored for tomorrow, some clearing the decorations away.

Maria is standing with Ellie and Cat, all of them with their arms folded and anxious expressions on their faces. You go over to join them.

“If they aren’t back by morning, I’m going out there,” you say bluntly without preamble.

“You and me both,” replies Maria firmly.

Taglist - @thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities @deadhumourist @pedrostories @abbyhaslongshorts @celebrtyskinz @majahu @sanscas @myloveistoolittle @ohthemisssery @harperdoodle @hummelmi @casssiopeia @midgetpottermills @rivierasunsetdiner @starkleila @nunya7394

[proceduralpassion]

Happiest I've Ever Been

Day 8 of Narcoctober- A day of pure fluff: anything insanely, unambiguously, self-indulgently, luxuriously enjoyable.

Characters: Steve Murphy x Connie Murphy

CW: DILF!Steve

WC: 767

A/N: It's them for me! Remember kids: grammar/spelling mistakes add character. Enjoy some Steveconnie fluff

Steve cradled Olivia in his arms as he turned down the heat on the stove. Connie had cooked his favorite, honey mustard chicken. The roasted potatoes and vegetable medley were already cooling on the opposite counter and Steve looks down to notice that the oven is on, too. He takes a peek inside and sees that she’s baking a praline cake, a dessert she only makes on special occasions.

He hums to himself, not thinking much of it, simply excited to have a full, warm meal tonight. With how crazy things were with his job, he was surviving on takeout and vending machine food on the late nights when he wasn’t able to make it home. 

Olivia had thrown her toy across the kitchen and was now whining since it was no longer in her hands.

“Okay, okay,” Steve soothed.

Instead of letting her down to walk through the kitchen herself, he carried her out and knelt down to get the toy himself. He returns it in her hands with a kiss on the head before putting her into her high chair. 

He’s not sure what’s taking Connie so long or where she veered off to, but he goes ahead and gathers the plates and silverware for dinner. He grabs a toothpick from the cabinet and carefully pulls the cake out to test whether it’s ready or not. The timer on the counter only had a few minutes left, but he didn’t want her to have to get up in the middle of dinner to come get it out. The pick comes out clean, so he goes ahead and removes the cake and then shuts the oven door. 

Almost everything’s on the kitchen counter by the time he finishes setting up and he starts to become worried that Connie hasn’t come out yet. Last he saw, she had gone into their bedroom and hadn’t come out since.

“Connie!” He calls. 

The food’s still very hot so he gives Olivia a piece of fruit to sate her impatience while he cuts up and blows on her food. He’s silently chucking at her face as she tastes the sour and sweet tastes of the orange slice and wiping away the nectar that spills to her chin. He looks up upon hearing footsteps. 

Connie has a barely contained smile on her face as she practically skips over to him.

“What?” He inquires. His smile is automatic because he’s never able to resist doing so, when pure happiness is etched onto his wife’s face.

She holds up a recycled gift bag from when Javi bought Olivia flower-shaped sunglasses upon Steve and Connie’s official adoption date. Connie shakes it a little and twirls it in front of him, signaling for him to take it.

He takes the bag, not taking his eyes off her amused face. He holds it close to his ear, shaking it just like she had, but not actually able to decipher what was in the bag. It makes Connie laugh out loud though, and he lowly chuckles alongside her. 

He opens the bag, but he’s not quite sure what he’s seeing. 

Connie speaks, “There’s a shirt shop in town that makes custom tees and I wanted to have one made for Livie that said ‘Big Sister’ to surprise you with, but then I thought, I found out by peeing on a stick in a stall at work and why do you get to have the super cute surprise announcement?” She chuckles before rushing out, “Also, there’s a three day turnaround for the shirts and I couldn’t hold it in any longer.”

Steve finally looks up, seconds after realizing he’s looking at a pregnancy test.

A positive pregnancy test. 

For maybe an instant, Connie’s scared because she doesn’t know what kind of reaction to expect, but then her husband’s face breaks out in the biggest smile and she’s being lifted into the air and spun around.

“My baby’s having a baby?” He croons.

Connie lifts her head up in laughter and with a shy shrug, she goes, “Yeah.” Pulling his hair out of his face, she wants to make sure that she’s reading this right. That they’re both on the same page, “Are you happy?”

His voice cracks before he can even get the full sentence out, “Baby, I think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

She wipes the lone tear that emerges out of his eyes and accepts the searing kiss he leans down to give her. When she opens her eyes, he’s walking away from her and lifting up Olivia.

“Livie, you’re gonna be a big sister!”

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[the-chubby-berry-story-archive]

Blueberry Inflation and Juicing POV 2.0

You are a female wearing a blue button up shirt, blue pants, and a large red belt. You wake up in a large green room with a machine with a tall tank connected to it and a mask connect to the tank as well. A small table comes up in the middle of the room with a small blue stick of gum on it. You walk over, not noticing the cameras in the corners of the room. Picking up the stick of gum, you put it in your mouth. As you began to chew the stick of gum, you get a nostalgic feeling. The first flavor that comes on is tomato soup. It was very creamy and thick, and you could almost feel it going down your throat. It had a hint of basil and garlic in it. Then came roast beef and mashed potatoes. The beef was so juicy, tender and savory that it drives you nuts. The potatoes were as soft as a brand new stuffed animal. Then came blueberry pie. It was so sweet and tart, you completely ignored the tingly feeling that was all over your body. The juiciness of the pie made you make noises of delight and pleasure as you completely ignore the tinge of indigo on your nose spreading. You begin to feel full. Your stomach makes a very loud gurgle noise. The full feeling starts to get more extreme as you notice your belly get bigger and bigger. You feel it slosh and churn with liquid as every minute passes by. One by one, the buttons on your shirt and pants pop off, your body quickly picking up the slack. You felt very warm, like you were outside on a very sunny day. Your chest begun to grow as well as the liquid fills your breasts, testing the limits of your bra. You felt the liquid slosh in there as well. The liquid rushed to your butt in a sudden surge, almost making you fall down. You moan and groan wishing for this all to stop. But it doesn’t. In fact you start to swell faster after accidentally the gum, it hitting your stomach with a loud plink. Your belly let out a loud gurgle as it picked up the pace. What ever was left covering you, ripped off leaving you exposed, your body picking up the slack. The liquid went to the thighs and arms, making them thicken quickie and making you loses all forms of mobility. Your body begun to lift off the ground and attempting to balance on your groin. Your legs and arms sunk into your body. Your cheeks filled with the liquid. It was blueberry juice. You were filling up with blueberry juice. You moaned as you continued to get larger. Then you felt your nether regions and breast get wet all of a sudden. While you could barely see them, you saw a dark purple leaking out of your breasts. ‘Great’ you think ‘ im leaking juice’. The sounds of your stomach started calm down, though the swelling was still happening ill be it is a lot slower. You sat there, a lare round blueberry with the only movement you could make was flapping your arms. Noise wise, you could barely make any as everything would come out muffled and gurgly. You moaned as you gently rocked back and forth, feeling all the juice that resided in your body slosh and gurgle within you. Your skin was as taut as a drum and you felt like at any moment, you would explode, sending your guts and juice flying everywhere in the room. Then you felt small hands press against your body making you roll. This made you nauseous as the juice in you sloshed and swirled really fast. Suddenly you stopped on a elevated platform.You felt hoses being attached to your body. Then some small figures looked down upon you with the mask that you notice earlier in hand. The hook it up to your face and leave the room. You groaned, trying to call out to them to see whats really going on. But your calls were muffled and cut out as cold, metal plates begun to squeeze you from every side. You begun to puke juice.

You also moaned in relief as all the juice was released from your body. It was though beginning to get hard to breath with all the liquid gushing out of your body. The machine stopped, but just for long enough for you to take some deep breaths before starting back up again. You passed out at some point, waking up in a small room that looked like a hotel complete with a bathroom and a shower.

A set of clothes was set out on a table. Was it all a dream? Maybe, maybe not.  You get up but sat immidly back down because you felt woozy and light heading. You went to go take a shower,walking like a pirate, not noticing your indigo skin and the loud gurgle coming from your belly.

[whiskeysmulti]

🍰(mun asks)

munday asks!- accepting! 🍰 — favorite sweet(s)/dessert(s)?

.Whiskey. Trick question, I see. I like a lot of sweets, but I have to watch having them because I have diabetes. (Type 2 and it's managed with diet, exercise, and proper medication). But one thing my doctor did explain to me about nutrition is even though sweets and junk are bad for you, we can't cut them out entirely because then the body will think it's deprived of something and the cravings will go wild. She taught me it's all about moderation and portion control and that in some cases like mine there is in fact a genetic link, though losing some and watching what I eat won't hurt either. So my typical eating habits are mostly carbs like a bagel in the morning and rice and veggies at lunch or noodles, light meats like fish and chicken with veggies and a carb like potatoes, and popcorn or fresh sliced peppers to snack on, and I don't drink sugary drinks, my usual liquid intake is water and black coffee-no cream and no sugar/sweetener, and as long as I control my portion these types of foods are fine and can even help with the vitamin deficiency I have. I usually don't have sweets unless I do have a craving or my sugar is low and I have to get something in me right away. In cases like that I go for a PB&J or cinnamon sugar on toast or on popcorn or a candy bar if I'm away from home and my only option is a rest stop vending machine, to get my sugar back up and level for the rest of the night. If it was one of the few times I'd allow myself dessert, my weaknesses are strawberry shortcake, peanut butter sundaes, cinnamon rolls, pumpkin pie, or mint chip ice cream.