#sauce carrier

[snorpdawg]

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Early Bugsnax gameplay footage dropped! Get it while it’s hot! The description says Seth Parker (who also worked on the game’s score) made placeholder audio recordings before the voice actors took over.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader request (s): grocery run, Simon talks about “the move”

“These look good.”

You’re holding a carton of strawberries, lifting them to the ceiling to check the bottom. “Huh big guy? Do these look good?” You lean close, tickling his toes from where he’s hanging in the baby carrier on Simon’s chest. Orion giggles, beaming at you like always, and you smile right back.

Simon tries not to blurt out right then and there how much he loves you. He stems the stream fighting to fall out of his mouth, walking mindlessly behind you, Orion kicking his feet and babbling, something new that started when he was away. He’s so proud, thrilled to watch his son start to grow, start expressing himself, and it pains him all the same. He’s missed so much, and he’s going to keep missing things.

“What about some pasta?” You’re turned with an eyebrow raised, and he blinks.

“Hmm?” He palms Orion’s belly.

“Pasta. For dinner tonight?”

“Sure honey. Whatever you want.” Your head cocks, slightly, and you put a dry bag of linguine in the cart.

“Want to go pick out a jar of sauce and I’ll meet you at the yogurt?” You stretch your back. “Not sure I feel like going for scratch tonight.”

“Okay. Come on bub, let’s go get mama her sauce.”

There are too many options. He didn’t realize there could even be this many options, white, pink, red, garlic, no garlic, the list goes on.

It’s a bit of a puzzle. What do you like? He should know these things. He wants to know these things.

“What a handsome little man.” A woman appears at his elbow, leaning past him to peek at Orion. “He’s so cute.” He gives her his only attempt at a polite smile, though it’s strained and looks like a grimace.

It’s hard, pretending to be a civilian. Walking around in a grocery store like he wasn’t just pulling a trigger a week ago. His instinct is to size the woman up, analyze her for potential threats, cover the back of Ry’s head with his hand. He grits out a thanks. “Thank you.”

“He looks just like you,” she continues, smiling, “handsome like his daddy.” The sentiment curdles his stomach, and he narrows his eyes.

“His mama agrees.” Her smile turns a little embarrassed, awkward, but still present, persistent.

“I’m sure she does if she’s got two big men around.” Bloody hell.

“If you’ll excuse-“

“Simon?” You’ve just turned into the aisle with the trolley, confused at first, and then catching up quickly. You sneer at the stranger, stepping around her to point to a sauce on the shelf, your breasts grazing his forearm. “I like this one.” You say softly, sliding a hand to his lower back, glancing over at the obtrusive woman. “Will you get it for me?” He smirks.

“Of course mama.”

“Is that it?” You eye the three bags, two duffels and a backpack. He shrugs.

“Don’t really have a lot. I have a storage unit for some things in Manchester, family stuff, but I’m pretty used to jumping around. Flat I rented came furnished.” You suck in a breath, like you’re all the sudden realizing what a daunting task it is, being his. Belonging to him. Being loved by him, a man who kills for a living, a man whose possessions only fill three, four bags at most.

“Okay, well, there are drawers… in the dresser, and half the closet of course. I cleaned out some bathroom drawers too, I wasn’t sure what you’d be bringing so I made some room in the kitchen too, in case you had dishes, and-“

“Hey.” He steps close, snaking a palm around the back of your neck and stroking over your pulse point. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just… this is a big deal.”

“It is.” He hums.

“I’m not… changing my mind, just like… my flat isn’t exactly… Simon sized.” He swallows his grin, pleased at how you’ve walked right into his next topic of conversation.

“About that…” your brow creases. “I think we might be a little cramped here, mama.” You slump.

“I know…” you sound defeated and he thumbs your cheek. “I just… I don’t know what comes next. I’ve been here so long, you know? It’s my place. And what do we do?” He does know it’s your place, knows how much you love your stacks of books, your small hanging house plants that sun by the window. He loves how you decorated Orion’s room, dark green with gold stars, loves how your plates and cups and bowls are all a mix of painted pieces, ornate designs that don’t really match but always seem to fit together.

He knows it will be hard, these next steps, but he’s not afraid. He trusts he knows what’s best for his family, knows how to keep you safe, and happy. He knows you’ll love it, the one he’s picked out.

He just has to tell you now.

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 4 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley can't help himself. When he sees cute things for his baby, he buys them. When he craves you as much as you crave him, he makes a complete mess in the garage. Pregnancy bliss is taking his domestic bliss to a new level as he tries to plan the perfect first anniversary outing.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, cum play, swearing, pregnancy

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

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

"What are all these boxes from?"

Your husband clearly didn't hear you come in from work by the look of things. He was still in his flight suit, desperately emptying cardboard box after cardboard box onto the dining room table. When he turned toward you, his eyes were wide like you'd just caught him doing something he shouldn't be. "I have no idea," he said, quickly picking up a smaller one and rushing your way. "This one has your name on it."

You were still trying to look past him into the dining room while he actively blocked you. "Are you joking right now? Oh my god, you went on a shopping spree!"

His cheeks were tinted pink, and he looked like he was going to burst at the seams as he blurted out, "It's for the Nugget!"

"When did you even have time to buy it?" you asked in exasperation. "You just got home on Friday!"

He was raking his fingers through his hair. "There was a special on two-day shipping, and as soon as we found out it's a girl, I started adding things to my shopping cart."

His gaze was sweet and earnest, but you chucked the box you were holding and ducked around him before he could stop you. Then you gasped. There was baby clothing, a folded up pack 'n play, bibs, bottles, and a baby carrier all spread out on the table.

"Do I need to take your credit card away?" you asked him, but even you weren't immune to the little pink onesie that said Daddy's Co-pilot.

"I can behave," he promised. "I'm just excited."

You groaned and looked at his face as he picked up the baby carrier. It was impossible to be annoyed with him right now, and at least it was a bunch of things you were going to need. You nodded toward the hallway and asked, "Do you want to start getting the nursery ready in a few weeks?"

Suddenly you were pinned up against the side of the piano with the carrier pressed between your body and his while he kissed you senseless. "Yes," he whispered against your lips. "Please. Pastel airplanes and clouds." He had mentioned it so many times, you already knew he was still thinking about it. 

"Anything you want."

He kissed you one last time and said, "I want my little girl to have the cutest nursery ever, and I want my wife to still agree to cook me dinner after she sees the credit card bill."

Your stomach started growling at the mention of food. "I'm starving," you admitted. "Clean everything up, and I'll work on dinner."

He sprang into action while you unbuttoned your uniform shirt which was way too snug now. You even unbuttoned your pants. You started heating up the chicken casserole that you made and froze while Bradley was deployed before cutting open the box that arrived with your name on it. You already knew what was in it, but you still cringed when you saw it.

The United States Navy maternity uniform was one of the ugliest articles of clothing you'd ever seen in your entire life. You looked out the window at the partially built playset in the backyard and whispered, "You're lucky I love you, little Nugget. Because now I have to wear a weird tent to work for the next four months."

It was too ugly to think about right now. Your stomach was growling relentlessly, so you cut up some carrot sticks and poured out a little bit of the hot sauce you brought back with you from dinner in Del Mar last night. "Mmm, that's so fucking good," you groaned, biting into a carrot stick you dipped into the sauce. You cut up another carrot into sticks and tried to get them as saturated as you could before eating them.

The baby was moving around a lot now as you ate your snack. "Jesus," Bradley grunted, and you turned to see that he had changed into some gym clothes.

"Want some?" you asked, as you dipped more into the hot sauce. A drop landed on your chest above your bra before it made it to your mouth, and Bradley was there to lick it up in an instant.

"Is this some sort of pregnancy craving?" he asked, and you smiled as you fed him the carrot stick. "And are you going to eat in your bra all the time now?"

"Why? Do you like it or something?"

He gave you a stern look and ran his thumb over your lace covered nipple. "Come on, Sweetheart. Your tits make me hard on a regular day, but right now they are doing a little something extra, and you know it."

"My favorite bra barely fits right now," you informed him as you reached for another carrot. "And my maternity uniform arrived." But you could tell he was hardly listening now as he kissed along your bra strap while the kitchen timer told you dinner was ready. "I could model it for you after we eat."

"Absolutely," he whispered as Tramp trotted in, ready to be fed too. They both gave you puppy eyes until they had their food in front of them. Bradley pulled you down onto his lap and offered to share his plate of dinner with you, but you mostly ate the carrot sticks. You were almost tempted to drink some of the hot sauce, so yes, this probably was a pregnancy craving. What you really wanted was to dip some marshmallows into it...

"Baby Girl, I'm going to go work out in the garage," Bradley said, pulling you from your food fantasy. He rubbed his hand along your bare belly and up to your breasts. "Meet me out there if you want. I'll clean the kitchen later."

You watched him slip out the sliding glass door and head for the garage. In fifteen minutes, he would be all sweaty. His skin would be slick to the touch. He would taste incredible. Yeah, you were obviously going to go meet him out there. In the meantime, you should probably try on your maternity uniform. 

You wrinkled your nose as you carried it to your bedroom. The pants were nice and stretchy, and they felt comfortable. The shirt had ample room for your belly, and it would definitely accommodate you in your third trimester as well. "Let's have a look," you said to your daughter, but when you glanced in the mirror, you gasped. "Fuck!"

Oh, it was so much worse than you imagined it would be. You laughed to keep from crying as you tried to come to terms with this khaki monstrosity. Your butt looked weird, and there was just so much fabric. You tried to tuck the shirt in, but somehow that was worse. 

After you slipped some shoes on, you made the trek out to the garage and stood in the open doorway, admiring your husband for a few minutes while he listened to his gym playlist and did some bicep curls. Then he dropped down to the mat and did fifty push ups while you tried not to moan. You almost forgot why you were there, but then he got to his feet, wiped his forehead with a towel, and jumped a bit when he finally saw you.

"What the fuck are you wearing?"

"Bradley!" you whined. "Is it really that bad?" You knew the question was almost laughable. The answer was clearly yes. But your husband scrambled over to you with an apologetic look on his face anyway.

"You're still beautiful," he insisted, taking both of your hands in his. "I just wasn't expecting you to be wearing this... uniform."

You let him kiss you, but you rolled your eyes and said, "I'm going to have to hide in my office at work until March."

"Okay," he finally said, "it's hideous, to be sure. But I see plenty of officers wearing them on base. And if anything, you make it look a lot better than it really has any right to." Your laughter must have encouraged him, because he wrapped you up in a delightfully sweaty hug and led you to his weight bench. "Wanna watch me do lunges? I'm practicing for the Nugget."

"You're practicing?" you asked as you settled down on the narrow bench. 

He was already strapping the baby carrier around his torso and clicking it into place. Then he picked up one of his ten pound bench press weights and slipped it into place where a baby should go. You wanted to laugh at how ridiculous he was, but when he looked at you and lunged down into a squat, you moaned and had to press your thighs together instead.

"Yeah," he grunted. "I'm practicing for when I get to wear my little Nugget around. Actually, do you think we should be calling her Nuggette?"

Once again, his words were comical, but the way he was doing reps of lunges like he was cradling a tiny baby's head with his hand instead of a metal weight left you whimpering.

"Nuggette sounds cute, too," you told him, rubbing your belly through your hideous maternity shirt. She was squirming a bit as you said, "I don't think she's picky about what you call her, Roo. She's just very excited whenever you're around."

He lunged down one more time before getting on his knees on the mat in front of you, removing the weight from the carrier and setting it on the floor. "Is that true?" he asked as he scooted a little closer. He smelled like clean sweat, and his body was radiating heat as he started to kiss your belly through your shirt. "You love Daddy?" he asked, running his nose gently against your bump.

His fingers found the hem of your shirt and eased it up so he had full access, kissing the spot next to your belly button. You brushed his damp hair back from his forehead and moaned, "We both love Daddy."

"Hey," he whispered as he started to unbutton your shirt. "I really want to fuck you, but this thing is a mood killer."

"Bradley!"

"I'm so serious," he told you, shaking his head. "We need to get this tent off of you immediately."

"You're so rude," you said with a laugh as he finally pushed the fabric down your arms and tossed it to the floor.

"That's what I'm talking about," he grunted, unhooking your bra and tossing that aside as well. Then he was still on his knees with his mouth on your breasts, and suddenly you could barely remember your own name.

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

Something about pregnancy cast a magic spell on your tits, and if left uninterrupted, Bradley could have happily sucked on them all night long. They were bigger, sure, but they were somehow a little firmer, too. And he couldn't understand it, but they were warmer and smelled so sweet. And your fucking nipples looked a bit bigger and were always furled into pretty little peaks that made his dick so hard, he could barely keep from touching himself.

He was moaning for you, on his knees in the garage while he licked and sucked to his heart's content. His left hand was stroking the underside of your breast while his right was stroking his cock in time with the way you were whining, "Brad-ley. Brad-ley." Your fingers were in his hair, and he was in absolutely no hurry to fuck you, but he was slightly afraid he was going to cum within the next few minutes.

So he carefully pushed you down onto your back on the bench and pulled those ugly as sin maternity pants off of your gorgeous body, yanked your underwear to the side, and ran his cock through your soaking wet pussy. 

"Fuck, Sweetheart." As soon as he pushed himself inside you with a little snap of his hips, your tits bounced for him. Mesmerized, he did it again. 

"Roo," you whined, trying to find something to hold onto as he fucked you a little harder with his hands cupping your bump.

"Yeah," he crooned, ramming himself deep, thankful he'd already removed the bar and the weights. "You better hang on tight."

He fucked you until you were a screaming mess, gripping the bench above your head for support. He'd never let anything happen to you or the baby, but it was delicious watching you scramble like this as he rocked the bench. The grip of your pussy as you arched your back and pressed your bump into his palms had him clenching his jaw, holding back as long as he could.

"Oh, fuck!" he shouted, pulling out of you while you were mid orgasm and shooting his load all over your belly and chest. "Jesus Christ," he panted, standing while straddling you on the bench, jerking himself off all over those tits.

You looked like you were in a daze as you reached one hand up, grasped his sensitive cock, and dragged it through the mess. Then you leaned up and kept eye contact with him while you licked his cock clean. He was literally twitching, hands folded behind his head as he stood there and let you rub his cock along your nipples again and again before setting him on your plush tongue.

He had to clear his throat a few times before he could manage to say, "I'm really happy you decided to join me for my workout."

Your pretty laughter filled the garage as he helped you sit up. Once you were dressed in his sweaty shirt with your awful uniform in your hand, he followed you out the door, across the backyard and directly to the shower.

"I don't know what happened here," he rasped, rubbing his rough hand all over your soapy tits, "but I love it."

Your eyes were closed, lips softly parted as you whispered, "I'm pretty sure it's just pregnancy boobs, Roo."

"And I'm pretty sure I've never cum quite that much before. You were fucking covered in it."

He had to kiss the smirk off your face so the two of you could finish showering and get in bed. "Hey," you murmured as you draped your arm across his chest. "You haven't read any of the Nugget notebook to me since you got home."

Bradley ran his fingers along your shoulder. "I could read some of it to you now," he whispered before reaching to get the pink and blue notebook from his nightstand. He wanted you to read it. He wanted you to know everything he wrote in there, but there was one page he didn't want you to see quite yet. "Have you thought any more about baby names?" he asked as he opened the notebook.

"A little bit," you said with a yawn. "Nothing I'm totally crazy about though."

Be breathed a sigh of relief and started reading out loud. He could wait for the perfect moment to mention it, and he thought that perfect moment might be on your anniversary.

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

For the rest of the week, you absolutely refused to wear your maternity uniform to work. You wore Bradley's extra shirt instead, affixing your own insignia pins and name tag to it each morning.

"You're out of dress code," he told you for the hundredth time on Friday morning.

"I don't care," you replied as you ate a granola bar covered in mustard while you both rode to work in the blue Bronco. "If I can go one last week or two before I have to start wearing the uncomfortable tent, then that's all that matters."

Bradley laughed, and you glared playfully at him. "It's not that bad, Baby Girl. I can still get a boner with you in it."

"You could still get a boner if I was wearing a tarp."

He was quiet for a beat before he moaned and asked, "Would the tarp be the same shade of blue as the Bronco? Because yeah, I might actually like that."

"See?" you replied before popping the rest of the bar into your mouth and chewing it up. You'd been craving weird food combinations all week, and honestly the best part of your days was visiting the cafeteria where you could combine whatever you wanted into the perfect meal.

"Hey, don't forget, I won't be at lunch today," Bradley said casually. Had he mentioned that before? You weren't sure. You were starting to have bouts of forgetfulness and brain fog.

"Where are you going again?"

"Uh," he hesitated. "Well I have to go see Nicole."

Nicole was the name on the list you found in the kitchen. Something about a permit. He said he'd never met her and didn't know who she even was. "Why?"

He coasted into a parking spot as he sighed. "It's something for our anniversary. Remember?" He turned and looked at you with those big brown eyes and asked, "Can we please let this be a surprise? I've got some shit planned for that day."

Your parents weren't coming out for Thanksgiving, and the two of you weren't going to Maryland. When you called them a few days ago to let them know the baby was a girl, your mom erupted into joyous screams before starting to cry because she wasn't going to see you until Christmas. Instead, you were planning on having a quiet Thanksgiving at home in the craftsman with Jake, Cat and Jeremiah. So if Bradley wanted to plan something special for later that weekend, you didn't mind.

"Yeah. It can be a surprise, Roo." 

He looked relieved when you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, and then he held your hand and walked you all the way to the elevator where he leaned in close. "I'll see you and your tits after work," he whispered, earning him a swat on the arm. He was laughing as he placed a big hand on your belly and said, "Love you, Nugget." 

Then you rode the elevator up to your office where you dipped a second granola bar into the container of maple syrup you brought with you and ate it before heading to your lab. You bumped into Maria in the hallway, and when you tried to say hi, she kept rushing by.

"I don't have time to talk," she said. "Bob keeps making me late for work."

You stood there in surprise for a second before you called out, "I mean, good for you though." Your hormones were an absolute mess, because by the time you walked into your own research lab, you were trying to get the image of Bob and Maria doing some nasty shit with his D&D dice out of your head. "Why am I like this right now?" you asked with a grimace.

"Like what?" Cat asked as you sat down next to her. "You're out of dress code." Then her expression melted as she said, "I swear you get bigger every day. You look so cute."

You opened your computer and casually asked, "You think you and Jake will have more kids?"

You were just trying to mess with her, but she cradled her face in her hands and groaned. "He wants to get married."

Your eyes went wide as you spun to face her. "Really? Do you? He's so good with Jeremiah."

"I can't," she whispered, looking around. "I'm still in so much debt. He's already paying for Jer's daycare on base now, and he's paying for a lawyer for me. If we get married, he'll try to pay off everything."

You shrugged. "So get a prenup or something. He loves you and Jer, and you cease to be a hardass now that he's around."

She started to spin away from you, obviously done indulging your antics, but then she said, "Can we keep this between the two of us?"

"Who would I even tell?" you asked as you typed your password.

"Your husband. And he'd tell Jake. And then Jake would come storming in here like a knight ready to save the day once again, and I don't want that."

She wasn't wrong, and you knew it. "Yeah, my lips are sealed. You're still coming for Thanksgiving dinner, right?"

"Just as long as you let me help you cook."

"One again, something I can't trust Bradley with," you muttered. "Deal."

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

Nicole was honestly lovely. She had everything ready for Bradley to sign when he got there, and then she made some quick photocopies and sent him on his way. Perfect. The permit was in order, and now he just needed to take care of the food and figure out where to buy non-alcoholic champagne, if it even existed. But he had another full week to think about that.

When he got back to work right after lunch, he headed for the lounge to wait until he was called up by someone in the tower. The room was empty except for Nat and Bob who were eating popcorn and sleeping on the couch respectively.

"Want some?" his best friend asked, and he shoved his hand into the kernels.

"What's wrong with him?"

Nat turned to look at Bob. "Oh, he's worn out from too much sex."

"Love that for him," he muttered before shoving the popcorn into his mouth.

Nat snorted. "You're looking a little worse for the wear, too, old man."

"Am I?" he asked after he swallowed. Sometimes it was glaringly obvious that you were six years younger than him, and other times he kind of just forgot about it. But you had been a bit of a brat since the night on the weight bench. You knew now that you could use your delicious tits against him to get whatever you wanted, and you really seemed to want to get pounded into the mattress at every turn.

When Nat touched the hair at his temple, she said, "You're wearing the expression of a man who is about to be wrapped around his daughter's fingers, and you also have a few gray hairs coming in."

He'd known her long enough to be sure she wasn't joking about either of those things. When he stopped in the locker room and looked in the mirror on the way to the parking lot at the end of the day, he found that she was right. It didn't really bother him. Hell, you hadn't said a negative word about it. On the contrary, you'd kissed him right there and told him how much you loved him in bed earlier this morning. The issue was that it reminded him of his parents and how young the both were when they just stopped existing.

He pushed off from the sink forcing himself to focus on the fact that he was very much alive and very much had his wife waiting in the parking lot for him. When he found you next to his Bronco, you were in tears, and you were unbuttoning his uniform shirt which you kept insisting on wearing.

"What's wrong, Baby Girl?" he asked as he rushed to get to you, and as soon as you saw him, you flung yourself into his arms.

"I got a formal reprimand! By some random admiral!"

"For what?" he asked, even though he already knew.

You sniffed and told him, "For being out of dress code."

He waited a few seconds until you seemed a little bit calmer, and then he said, "I think this means you should start wearing the tent."

"I hate it when you're right."

He guided you around to the passenger side door and unlocked it for you. Then he let you pull his shirt off and toss it onto the seat. He didn't even ask questions as you climbed in, he just buckled your seatbelt for you and let you ride home in your bra.

The Bronco was pretty close to the house when you finally reached for his hand, and he gave it to you immediately while you pouted out the window. "Can I have a little hint?" you asked.

He stroked your soft knuckles, unsure what you were referring to. "About what, Sweetheart?"

"Our anniversary. Please? Today was so shitty, and I miss my parents, and I'm starving for grapes dipped in hot sauce, and I am pissed that I got reprimanded."

Bradley tried not to smile as he pulled into the driveway. You were always so endearing even when you were annoyed, and he was going to get you grapes and hot sauce as soon as he got you inside. "Yes, I'll give you a little hint. What do you want to know?"

He watched you unbuckle your seatbelt after he parked, and you crawled across the seat toward him, practically spilling out of your bra. As you straddled his lap and guided his hands to your bump and his sweet Nugget, you asked, "Where are you taking me?"

Bradley smiled and kissed your lips. "Back to the scene of the crime."

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

Daddy Roo with some gray hairs along his temple. Sign me and BG the fuck up. The Nugget is growing nicely on her new hot sauce diet. Up next is Thanksgiving with the Seresins and the Bradshaws along with an anniversary dinner. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 5

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[lulublack90]

Prompt 24 - Dealer

@jegulus-microfic July 24, Word count 886

Previous part First part

James walked up to the main door of the fancy-looking flats. It was an old town house that had been converted into separate contained units. Regulus had invited him over last night after they'd said goodnight. They'd met up every day since they'd met, and James was loving every second of it. He rang the bell labelled Rosier. The intercom crackled to life. 

“Yeah?” A voice grunted on the other end. 

“Er, hi, my name is James and —”

“We’re not interested,” The voice cut him off. James pressed the button again. 

“Hi, sorry, I’m—” James tried again. 

“Look mate, we’re not interested, so fuck off!” The man shouted down the line. 

“Barty, what are you doing?” A softer voice spoke. “Hello?” The voice said to James. 

“Hi, is Regulus there?” He asked quickly before he was interrupted. 

“Oh, are you the new beau? Come on up, I’ll buzz you in,” The line clicked off and an unpleasant buzzing sounded until James opened the door. He walked up to the top floor and knocked gently on the door. 

The door flew open to reveal two twenty-something young men, shoving each other to get a better look at him. 

“Oooooo, he wasn’t lying. He’s fit as fuck,” Barty leered, his eyes running up and down James. 

“So handsome and those muscles. Nom,” The other man bit his lip as he looked James over. “Come on in,” The man waved him in. 

“Thanks,” He walked into the flat. It was spacious and stylishly decorated. “James,” He said to the pair and offered his hand. 

“I’m Evan and this miscreant is Barty. Welcome to our flat. Regulus is on his way and Pandora is right through here. Evan led James into the living room where a waif of a girl was sitting on the sofa with her feet curled underneath her. She turned her head when they entered the room and her long, almost white blond hair swirled around her. 

“Is this him?” She asked, jumping lightly to her feet. 

“Yep, this is him,” Evan replied. Pandora approached James and grasped his face with her tiny hands before closing her eyes. James was shocked, but as the other two didn’t react, he decided to go with it. 

“You have a beautiful aura, James.” She told him, releasing his face. 

“Erm, thanks,” He didn’t know what to make of that. Just then, the front door opened and Regulus entered the flat. 

“Is James here yet?” Regulus called through as the sound of carrier bags rustled past. 

“Yes, he's here. Your lover boy is getting the Pandora treatment,” Evan shouted back. 

“Merde. Sorry James, I’ll be right there.” Regulus hurried into the living room and went straight to James’s side, giving him a slightly awkward one-armed hug. 

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that,” Evan teased. Not one to back down from a challenge, James wrapped his arm around Regulus’s back and dipped him as he stole a kiss. Regulus was flushing violently when James set him back upright. They'd shared a goodnight kiss the night before so James hadn't felt bad for the surprise swoop. 

“Wooooooooo!” Evan and Barty chorused. 

“Shut up,” Regulus grumbled at them. “Let’s go make dinner,”

Everyone pitched in and dinner took no time at all to put together. They sat down at the tiny table with pasta in homemade tomato sauce and garlic bread. James’s mouth was watering. 

Barty pulled a lemon drizzle cake out of the fridge for pudding, that he’d baked that morning. By the time they’d finished, James was full to bursting and all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep. 

“Shall we play a game?” Barty asked innocently as they tidied away the dinner things.

“Ooooo, yes let’s,” Pandora danced across the kitchen and opened one of the drawers and took out a deck of cards, then she opened a cupboard and took out a bottle of Vodka. 

James followed the others into the living room and joined them on the floor, sitting in a circle. Pandora threw the deck of cards to Barty and helped Evan pour out shots and place them in front of everyone. 

“I’m banned from dealing, they say I cheat, but they're just sore losers,” Regulus confessed to James to a round of boos from the circle as Barty began to deal out the cards. “And Pandora gets a feel for the cards if she’s the dealer, so she is also banned.” 

"Too, right, Panda wins every time if she gets anywhere near the deck." Evan huffed as he neatened the pile of cards before him. 

“So, what are we playing?” James asked when he was given a small stack of cards. 

“Drunk Snap,” Regulus said and began to explain the rules of the game. “You play snap normally, whoever hits the deck first when the cards match and shouts snap wins the round, but that's where the drunk comes in. All the losers have to do a shot. It’s pretty simple.”

“Wait, how do you cheat at Snap?” James asked. The rules of Snap were pretty simple, and it was so fast-paced there usually wasn’t time to create strategies.

“Exactly,” Regulus said, looking at Evan and Barty in particular.

“Are we ready?” Pandora asked, flipping over the starter card, and they began.

Next part

[suzukiblu]

‘The middle of starting over’ by Sabrina carpenter kind of reminds me of Krypton lives and Kara did not sign up for this

“Do you understand what I mean by that?” Kara asks, suspecting she should dread the answer but knowing she needs to be clear here. “That you belong to our house?”

“Our genetic material is Kal-El’s. Not our own,” Match replies, neutral and by rote. Thirteen’s mouth goes even tighter. 

“We’re not stupid,” he snaps at her, his fists clenching by his sides. 

Kara considers committing a war crime against a backwater planet. Just one war crime. 

“The insult of our continued existence will be tolerated as long as we prove useful to the House of El,” Match says, just as toneless and just as practiced as before. Like it’s something he’s said a thousand times, when he hasn’t even been alive long enough to say a thousand things. Something he just knows to be a foundational fact of life. 

. . . maybe two war crimes, Kara thinks, carefully packing up her seething fury before she can start shouting at the two people in this situation who deserve it the least. There’s two of Thirteen and Match, so that’s fair, isn’t it? Justifiable? 

“No,” she says very, very evenly. “It means you’re part of our family.” 

Thirteen flinches, and looks very briefly hurt before his jaw clenches. Then he just looks angry. Match’s expression is the most perfectly blank it’s been so far and doesn’t change at all. 

They’re very different, for how alike they look. She shouldn’t be surprised by that, but it’s . . . disorienting, a little. 

Mostly because they’re both so different from Kal, she thinks. Neither of them is a thing like him at all. Even at their “age”, he was nothing like either of them. She can’t even imagine how hard a time he must be having understanding them, when they’re both so wildly different from him in such different ways. 

But at Thirteen and Match’s “age”–at both of their ages, both the literal and physiological ones–Kal was an adored only child with a bright future and brilliant prospects and all of Uncle Jor and Aunt Lara’s morals and love instilled in him, not a pair of lab-built “weapons” who must’ve heard their existence called an “insult” somewhere. Who must’ve been told they were stupid time and time again; must’ve been told they weren’t worth anything more than being carriers of the DNA that’d been stolen to make them time and again. Must’ve been told they were possessions and things and at best slaves to–

Kara exhales, very slowly, and pulls the rice out of her pantry. 

“I’m making milk rice,” she informs them shortly. Milk rice sounds like something Earthling children’s palates should appreciate. Mostly children eat it here too, so it makes sense. “What kind do you want?” 

“Milk . . . what?” Thirteen wrinkles his nose in confusion. Has Kal even given these kids dessert before, Kara thinks, trying not to lose her mind. Was there any real information about food or fashion or culture in that “gesture of goodwill” information packet that he presented the Earthling governments with? Because judging by how they’re dressed and the dialects they’re using and the fact that they don’t even know milk rice . . . 

“Milk rice,” she repeats. “It’s a dessert. Milk and rice are involved. Usually it’s made with either bly fruit or katso sauce. Or spygin, but that’s mostly an Argo City thing.” 

Thirteen and Match both stare blankly at her for a moment before their eyes slide to each other instead. Thirteen’s jaw visibly tightens. Match’s eyes just barely narrow. 

“We don’t know what that is,” Thirteen says, glancing back to her warily. “The . . . ‘buh-lye fruit’ and ‘kasso sauce’. Or . . . ‘spy-geen’?” 

Right, Kara thinks, and doesn’t let herself sigh again. They’re going to get the wrong idea if she keeps doing that. 

“Bly fruit is sweet and katso sauce is savory,” she says, carefully enunciating the words without making it completely obvious that she’s correcting Thirteen’s pronunciation. “Spygin’s a spice. Kind of . . . sharp and smoky, I guess, but a little sweet too. It’s hard to describe. Goes good with milk-based things.” 

“. . . you’re asking us what flavor we want?” Match asks incredulously, like the idea’s somehow just occurred to him. 

Maybe three war crimes, Kara thinks. Lantern-level war crimes with a side of unfathomable solar superpowers. No one could blame her for just three, at this point.

[tlou-reid]

Timeless ❆ Aaron Hotchner

☃︎ SUMMARY: a timeline of Aaron’s and his soulmates’ love life.

☃︎WARNINGS: random asshole character at the beginning, aaron and jack being cuties, death and mentions of an undisclosed illness, a funeral :(

.｡❅⋆⍋∞｡∞⍋⋆❅｡.

“We would have been timeless, ‘cause I believe that we were supposed to find this. So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine. We would've been timeless.”

Day One

“Aaron!” the barista called into the busy cafe, setting down a carrier of four drinks. His name was quickly sketched across all four, signifying his loss to the team.

Aaron, Penelope, JJ and Luke had made a bet that Aaron would have a home cooked meal for five out of the seven days they were in town. He’d caved on day four, getting home late and craving the acidic burn of pizza sauce and greasiness of mozzarella cheese. He couldn’t help himself, forgetting all about the silly bet he’d made.

He remembered in the morning when he came eye to eye with the Italian man on the pizza place’s logo. Aaron figured it would be easier to just come in with their prize, coffees from Penelope’s favorite local place, and accept defeat than have to confront each of them.

So, he picks up his tray with a sigh and continues his way to his car, hoping to get to the BAU as soon as possible.

However, this would prove difficult. Aaron is shocked to see a big SUV blocking him in, and a lady jumping out of it. “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!” She yelled into the open door, slamming it at the end of her sentence. Aaron could see the passenger side window roll down. He heard a man’s voice this time, with a much darker, violent tone, “YOU SHOULD’VE THOUGHT ABOUT IT BEFORE YOU GOT IN THE CAR, BITCH!”

The law enforcement officer in Aaron kicked in when he heard the foul names being thrown towards this lady. She was gearing up to retaliate, but he stepped in front of her. Aaron used his free hand to quickly pull out his badge. It was a bit clumsily, due to the weight of the coffees in his other hand.

Once he was standing protectively in front of the lady and had his badge on full display, Aaron spoke, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave before you cause a further public disturbance.” His voice was low, the same way he talked to suspect. “Oh, fuck you.” The man said one last time, making eye contact with the lady, before pulling off.

“Are you okay?” Aaron turned around to face the lady. “Yeah, the guy’s just an asshole. Fucking offers me a ride and thinks that means he’s getting laid?” You’re rambling at this point, aggravated at the entire situation. “Where are you trying to go?” His entire plan of getting to work quickly went out the window when he saw how beautiful your eyes were.

“I work at the office around the block. I usually drive but someone hit my car yesterday and it’s in the shop today,” Aaron was growing more and more concerned with your wellbeing as you spoke, “I’m just gonna walk. Thanks for taking care of that asshole, I can’t believe I’m gonna have to see him later.”

Aaron knows he should probably walk away, but he can’t stop himself from asking, “See him later?” You nod, “He’s my fucking neighbor. Sorry, I don’t usually cuss this much, he just really pissed me off.” Aaron laughs at this, seeing as the first thing he heard you say was “fucking asshole”.

“You’re sure you don’t need a ride?” He asks one more time. “No, I could probably use the walk to cool off some. Thank you,” Your voice trailed off, not knowing what to call him. He stuck his hand out for you to shake, “Aaron.” He filled in the blank for you.

You told him your name, shook his hand, and bid him goodbye. You made it maybe six steps before you turned back around, “Aaron!” You hollered, walking quickly to catch up to him. “I know this is bold and I don’t even know if you’re single, but you were very kind and I think you’re very good looking. Could I get your number maybe?”

Aaron meets you with a laugh. You’re wary, not knowing that a laugh from Aaron was extremely rare, and something a lot of people would kill to hear. Your nerves are eased when he says, “I’d love to give you my number.”

Day 16

The night was going wonderfully. Aaron was proving that chivalry was, in fact, not dead. Just lost in older men. He was comfortable meeting you at the restaurant, he pulled out your chair for you, ordered a bottle of the fancy wine the restaurant carried, and was currently sliding his credit card into the check holder.

The conversation between you two flowed beautifully all night, making it seem like time flew by. He signed the bottom of the receipt, leaving a very generous cash tip, and turned his attention towards you. “Ready to go?” Aaron asked, not wanting to rush you away. You gave him a shy nod, trying to figure out a way to say you want to see him again soon without sounding obsessed.

Aaron stood and you followed, interlocking your arm with his. You two walked out of the restaurant, only letting each other go when he held the door for you. “Which one’s yours?” He asked, wanting to walk you to your car. You held out the key, clicking the lock button to get it to light up.

Aaron walked you over, opening the driver’s side door for you. “Look at her!” You squealed, excited for him to see your car, “Fresh out of the shop!” Aaron laughed at your excitement. Once you were comfortable in your seat and buckled up, Aaron went to speak again.

“I had fun,” He smiled at you. “I did, too.” You replied. “Would you like to do it again, sometime?” He asked, fumbling over his word a bit. You couldn’t help but find the way you made him nervous adorable.

“I would love to, whenever you’re free.” He’d told you about how hectic his work life could get, which you understood. “I’ll call you.” He promised, getting ready to close the door. “Goodnight, Aaron.” He gave you once last smile, repeated your sentiment, and closed the door for you.

Day 102

“Why’d you pick him?” Aaron’s son, Jack asked. “Jack!” Aaron laughed, loading up spaghetti noodles on his plate.

It’s your first time meeting Jack. You were both scared and excited, not knowing how he would react to Aaron bringing home a new girlfriend. “He protected me the first time I met him, I felt like I owed him.” You joked as Aaron passed you the pasta. You smiled when Jack let out a loud laugh.

Dinner continued like this, with teasing and laughter. You felt incredibly welcomed in the Hotchner household, loving the energy both of the boys created. You fit like a missing puzzle piece, being able to help Jack team up on his dad, and be there when Aaron was feigning sadness at one his jokes. Plus, both of them were happy to have a home cooked meal for the first time in about a week. Jack even said you could come over whenever you wanted, as long as you cooked.

“I think he likes you,” Aaron said as he climbed into bed next to you, later that night. “I think so, too. We laughed a lot.” Aaron nodded, moving over to press a kiss to the side of your head.

“Welcome to the family,” He muttered as he wiggled down into the blankets, falling asleep quickly.

Day 1534

“I do.” You said as you slid the ring onto Aaron’s finger, missing the first time due the tears welling up in your eyes.

Everyone seated for the ceremony cheered as the pastor said, “You may kiss the bride!” Aaron pulled you in by your waist, pressing himself as close as possible to you. The kiss was appropriate, considering there was a crowd watching, but full of love.

After you pulled away, you moved yourself behind Aaron, pulling his best man in for a big hug. Jack smiled against your neck, squeezing you tight. You grabbed one his hands, and one of Aaron, walking back down the aisle with both of them by your side.

“Mr., Mr., and Mrs. Hotchner,” Jessica smiled, introducing you three to the reception. You were ready to dance and celebrate with the people you loved most in the world. And you were so excited to share their last name.

Day 12152

You had always hoped it would be you to pass first. Something easy for Aaron, Jack, and his children to handle. Passing away in your sleep, peacefully and free of pain.

But, wishes are rarely granted. You were sat next to Aaron when he passed. As hard as his battle with illness had been, he fought as best he could. You knew he’d spent his whole life fighting, so you, as sad as you were, you relieved to know he was somewhere safe and relaxing. Somewhere where there was no fight to be had.

He would be surrounded by people he loved, more than he had around him in his old age now.

Jack held you tight at the funeral, knowing you were heartbroken. Part of him was relieved too. His father was no longer in pain. When he knelt at his dad’s casket, he made one last promise to look over you. To take care of you, to love you, and to protect you, just as Aaron had done since the day he met you.

You weren’t too worried about it, though. You knew you’d join him when the time was right, and he would be waiting for you. You two were meant to be, even if you’d met late in life. No matter how long it took, or where you guys were, you and Aaron would find each other.

[olderthannetfic]

As someone who loves to cook very international, a big thing I notice about the "bland" food because "not enough spices" thing is that it comes especially from people who don't really understand cooking on a more fundamental basis. A lot of spices doesn't mean you can cook or that it'll taste good, and few spices/none doesn't mean tasteless or actually bland. If you know how to cook, and you know how to combine flavors. Yes some cuisines favor certain styles, but often the dishes they make are also tailored to that cooking style. Who knew?! (Joking) Some dishes shouldn't be covered in spices because it ruins the flavor of the ingredients, and some dishes need a lot of spices because the entire point is actually just to have carriers for the flavor of the spices themselves. People who know how to cook will know what meats are better carriers for stronger flavors, and which meats should be enjoyed as "naturally" as possible. People who can cook also know how to balance flavors. Know the difference between different spices, herbs, sauces, and cooking methods to really get the perfect taste out of your ingredients. Most people learn cooking at home, so it's just something you do because of how you were raised with it. But if you learn about new cooking methods, you often also learn about WHY certain things are done. Why can you use Spice1! for neck meat but not flank meat? Why can you pre-roast Spice2! in a hot pan, but you should avoid doing that to spice3!? Why does this dish ask for a specific type or garlic? Why does this dish ask for dried herbs? Why does this ask for fresh herbs? Why does this dish ask for rock sugar, but this other dish just says sugar? You can make a lot of jokes about cooking, but too many people think that because they see the most obvious difference between two fundamentally different cuisines that they get to be a judge, when they don't even understand the subtle flavor differences and profiles and the "why?"'s of cooking.

--

[demani-dusk]

I don't know anything about Translation State yet and yes I am reblogging every Imperial Radch post I can as preparation for reading it, but I'm very excited because I love Translator Zeiat a lot and a thing I might sort have picked up is that we'll be getting more to do with her whole deal.

I love Translator Zeiat less as I love as character and more as a narrative device, sorry Zeiat, although I do find her hysterical. I love how she underlines themes around identity and categorization by breaking down the way we talk about these things into absurdities.

The most obvious part of the book where she's doing this is when she's explaining about cakes and how if she separates the cakes with fruits from the cake without fruit they're different, but if she mixes them together then they're all the same again. She can add a counter and call it cake and then it's cake too! At this point, it's fairly apparent she's talking about people and how there are different kinds of humans. And in this case, that's what she means to talk about. Or rather, she is talking about how words work in general and it's very apparent this insight is most helpful when talking about categorizing people.

But like, what else has she got going on? She accepts Breq deciding that she's Zeiat and not Dlique. By the end of Ancillary Mercy we don't really know how translators work or how correct Breq may have been, but it works out because Zeiat is so very happy she's Zeiat and not Dlique. This is very Gender to me, the way arbitrarily being called something different causes Zeiat to behave differently and she's so Happy about it. She talks about how if she were to go home everyone would call her Dlique and she wouldn't like it. It's also a fun scifi way to raise the question to the reader, what does it mean to be one thing and not another? By forcing the reader to try to figure out what is going on with the translators' identities, we have to just, think about how identity works. And it's a theme for the series. Sick!

Fish sauce is a condiment, not a drink. That fish is for looking at, not for eating. Have you noticed that these fish cakes are entirely the same on the inside but the other fish have very complicated insides? All I'm saying is, what's the difference between a citizen and a noncitizen? One of them is Civilized and the other isn't.

And my favorite is Zeiat finding Breq in the infirmary and re-introducing herself and saying she'll miss the old fleet captain. This must be a new fleet captain, because the old fleet captain had two legs! All of these scenes are so so funny to me, but this is very interesting to say to Breq imo, the last ancillary of a dead troop carrier. How different is it for Zeiat to call her a new person than for people who know her history to think of her as "Breq," and not "Justice of Toren?" I guess I also love this because I similarly love the way Breq's story in Ancillary Justice plays with mathematical identity in a fun scifi way while the whole series plays with gender identity in a different kind of fun scifi way, and both of these are part of a commentary on identity and empire in the real world. It's good scifi! !!!

[violet-hearth]

Basic Spell Oils

I should have posted this a lot earlier, but I forgot ..

Oils are a great way to create herbal blends for spell work - oil preserves the scent, taste and herbal matter if stored away from sunlight (you can store in coloured glass) and can be adapted to make infused olive oil or cooking oils for your kitchen witchery, the dress candles, to add to glamour spells, or to make perfume bases.

Basic Recipe Formula:

Essential oils

Carrier oil such as sweet almond oil, jojoba oil, sunflower oil, apricot oil etc.

A small jar with a dropper or dropper top to store the oil in

Optional:

Vitamin E oil

herbs to create an infusion

Determine the intention of the oil (love, protection, confidence etc.) and gather the herbs and essential oils that have association (personal or common) with aspects of that intention

Add a few pinches of dried herbs to your bottle

Add a few drops of your essential oil (up to 10% of the bottle)

If using, add a drop of vitamin E oil - this can make it better for skin application and also stops the oil from going rancid from the herbal matters

Add the carrier oil and fill to the top, cap and shake to blend - as you shake you can say a prayer, chant, or focus your energy to charge the oil

Allow to sit for at least a week before use, as it ages it will start to macerate and smell more harmonious.

Date Night Dinner Oil

This is an olive cooking oil to be used in salads, sauces, to spread on breads, or to marinate meats and vegetables in. It is packed full of aphrodisiac herbs and summer spices

Olive oil

Garlic, rosemary, ginger, star anise, and chili

Strainer

For a quick infusion, add in your oil and herbs into a pan and simmer on a low heat for 30 minutes.

Allow to cool, strain and use within 1-2 weeks

Attraction Oil

The attraction oil combines aphrodisiacs and anti-anxiety herbs into an oil or perfume. The intention is to attract and command attention, to boost your confidence, and as a base for seduction work.

Add your carrier oil to your oil dropper or perfume bottle/roller - for this I’d recommend a rosehip oil, apricot oil or a neutral grapeseed oil.

Turn your herbs into oils either via essential oils or add them dried straight to your carrier oil to infuse: rose, clove, vervain, cinnamon, licorice, nutmeg, frankincense, apple blossom, jasmine, ylang ylang, lavender, cocoa, and/or gingseng - cater to personal preferences and match scents together, I recommend using between 3-8 oils or herbs.

Example scent profile: rose, lavender, apple blossom, vervain, cinnamon, licorice, gingeseng (spicy floral - I’d also add a little patchouli if turning into a perfume)

These types of recipes are where having a grimoire, notebook, or journal comes in very handy! Keep record of what you've tried, what scents match well, what is repellent, what works for you, plan out recipes before hand.

As always, adapt, change, and disregard as you like to suit your personal practice <3

[dreamycloud]

❤️ first kiss / realization - I'd love to see this with Don and L3666 but would also be happy with regular Lokius!

Thank you for the first ask, @stillwanderingflame!!!!! Of COURSE I had to deliver a story specific to D3666 and L3666, but the challenge was that they already had their first kiss in my fic i bet on losing dogs. I needed to figure out a way to fulfill this prompt…and I think I got it. Enjoy!

“Of all the luck,” D3666 muttered, smacking his shin on the WaveRunner VX Deluxe he didn’t see in front of him until lightning illuminated the shop.

Rain fell as if heaven had a water hose aimed at Cleveland; he couldn’t see much out the windows beyond the silver deluge flooding the parking lot.

“You go on ahead, Dale,” Don whispered, rubbing his bruised shin through his khaki pants. “It’s Saturday night. Can’t keep that hot date of yours waiting. I’ll check the circuit breakers. No, I don’t need help.”

And look where his kind gesture got him. He was the one cut off from his family for the night with no way of reaching them. The phone lines were dead. He couldn’t even make smoke signals. A carrier pigeon would drown in that rain trying to fly home. He hoped Dale choked on his chips and queso.

He should have gotten off work at five, but his wristwatch told him it was past eight with no hope of escaping bunking down for the night in Piranha Powersports for the night. He and Dale had been on staff for the last shift, and at around 4:45pm, the power went out.

Problem was, despite one wall of the shop made of floor-to-ceiling windows, moving without walking right into the displays proved to be impossible. He also had no idea where the circuit breaker was. He may be a Chief Sales Officer, but he wasn’t the General Manager. Darlene was out on her annual trip to Honolulu and thought they could behave themselves like adults while she was gone. She liked cutting corners.

The biggest problem of all, he learned, at 5:10pm, was that the building’s security system kicked in. One feature was that the doors locked from the inside. Don, to his horror, discovered that he couldn’t leave. He had spent an embarrassing few minutes pushing and tugging on a door that would not budge. His arms were tired. His shins—both of them—hurt from multiple collisions. There should have been a flashlight in Dale’s station behind the counter, but damn it, he couldn’t find it.

So Don stumbled toward the back of the store, holding a prayer between his lips that he could do so without incident. Another lightning flash and he saw Thrustking before him. Don sighed and climbed up, tossing one leg over so he could sit up high and watch the nasty storm until he fell asleep still straddling the personal watercraft.

Loki would have put the boys to bed by now. Don had already cooked for the night, making plastic-wrapped plates of chicken parm made from cheap tomato sauce and dinosaur chicken nuggets. Green beans, French cut, drowned in butter for Kevin and Sean. Once he’d realized he was trapped, Don had scarfed down an old crinkly granola bar. So much for family dinner.

The pit in his stomach grew as he recalled the morning. He had been on his way out the door and stopped at the kitchen table to press kisses to the crowns of his boys’ heads. They squirmed and complained, splashing cereal, but they were not-so-secretly pleased by the attention from dear old dad.

“See ya later, sweetheart,” Don said, catching Loki in doorway. He rolled onto his toes to kiss Loki’s smooth cheek, but Loki startled like a deer and flinched away.

Don’s face burned with the rejection. He hadn’t waited for Loki’s stammering explanation, if he was even going to get one from the god. He grabbed his keys and ran off to work.

The rain hissed. Don wrapped his hands around the handlebars and squeezed. This was his first week back at work after recovering from the injury that nearly killed him when the Kree attacked. He had a nasty scar on his stomach but he was happy to be alive. Except today, maybe. Today, he was hurt and confused.

He and Loki had been intimate nearly every night since their first time. Loki seemed to adore him, his face slack with pleasure as he moved above Don. But Don still needed to be gentle, tempering his touches, waiting for the god to consent to each spine-tingling moment in bed. And when Don thought about it, he realized that Loki was in control. Loki kissed first and last. Loki pushed Don into bed or against the cold shower wall. Loki melted into him. Not the other way around.

Maybe that was the problem. Don hadn’t yet kissed Loki first. And he really, really wanted to.

“No help for it,” he muttered, grimacing. He respected that Loki’s healing journey would be long and jagged. The torture he suffered couldn’t be erased overnight, no matter how deeply he and the boys loved the god. But this morning had cut Don deeper than any knife. Made him wonder if maybe he wasn’t desirable enough. Maybe the idea of being kissed by Don might be equal to having a bucket of cockroaches dumped on Loki’s head.

He was only human, after all. Understanding only got him so far.

A crack of lightning made Don jump, fingers flexing on the handlebars. A shadowy figure stood outside the shop.

“Shit,” Don said, sliding off Thrustking in a panic. A robbery on a night like this? Where could he find a weapon?

A new sound coming from inside the shop—the plink, plink, plink of rain hitting the tile floor.

Don held his breath.

“Your dinner’s gone cold.”

He exhaled harshly. “Loki?”

L3666 burned his image upon Don in the next lightning flash. He was sopping wet, hair slick against his pale, sulky face and black trousers and sweater sticking like a second skin to his tall, slim frame. A puddle formed beneath him. The darkness came again. Loki’s voice was soft like silk. “Sean and Kevin are asleep. The sound of the rain knocked them out early.”

“Good, good,” Don said. His palms felt suddenly sweaty. He wiped them on his khakis. “How did you…?”

“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” Loki said, sharp and full of hurt. “I must say, choosing work instead of a bar to avoid me is uninspired.”

Don blinked. What was he talking about? “How do you figure I’m avoiding you? In case you haven’t noticed, the power’s out. The phone lines are dead.”

Loki sniffed, offended.

“I’m trapped like a rat in his building until morning, O Great God of Limitless Power. Or did you forget to notice those details when you popped in here easy as pie?”

“Forgive me, I was more concerned with your absence,” he said stiffly.

“I’m glad someone was,” Don said softly. He took a few slow steps closer.

“When you didn’t come home,” Loki said, “I worried about what happened this morning. I didn’t mean to react the way I did.”

“I know,” Don said. The hurt he’d been carrying all day washed away with the rain.

“You were there so suddenly. In my face. I hadn’t been paying attention and it scared me,” Loki said, words tumbling over each other, silk turned frayed.

“It’s okay, Loki. I get it. I know.”

Loki’s ruined leather shoes squeaked as he approached. His hands slid over Don’s elbows, catching on his forearms. “You doubted me. I can feel it.”

Don looked up where he thought Loki’s face would be and felt the warmth of the god’s breath wash over his face. “No, no, no. I was hard on myself. Not you. Never you, sweetheart. I just wasn’t sure if I’m what you really want. If I can’t kiss you…”

Loki’s breath hitched. His fingers dug into Don’s forearms. “Kiss me, then.”

“Just like that?”

Loki let go, and in the next lightning flash, Don saw him tuck his hands into the pockets of his wet trousers. No longer touching, leading, directing. He waited for Don.

Don gently cupped Loki’s face, smoothing away the clinging raindrops on his cheeks. “Trust me?”

Loki trembled, his eyes electric green in the storm. “Always.”

Don led Loki’s mouth to his. Loki shuddered and moaned, leaning into Don’s kiss but made no move to control it.

He playfully smattered kisses on the god’s wet lips. My kisses are fun, he told Loki with his mouth, my kisses are a balm when you’re feeling blue. One hand slid to the back of Loki’s head and slowly curled into a fist, grabbing a handful of slick black hair. He pulled Loki even closer and slid his lips across the god’s, setting them both aflame.

Loki’s hands flexed restlessly in his pockets. Wordless begging between kisses, demanding more.

Don tilted Loki’s head and ran his tongue over Loki’s bottom lip. The god opened instantly. His other hand pulled roughly at the heavy, soaked sweater. They both moaned loudly then Don’s tongue curled around the god’s.

He wasn’t sure how long they kissed, lazy and slow, punctured by fits and bursts of desire. At one point, Don pulled away to catch his breath and saw the droplets clinging like crystals to his god in another lightning flash. He cupped the back of Loki’s neck and kissed the fragile column of Loki’s throat.

Loki gasped and raised his chin, exposing more of his neck. Don’s heart squeezed. This was Loki at his most vulnerable, bearing the most fragile part of himself. Don didn’t take that lightly. He was honored. Don supported the back of his neck and made a trail of kisses from his collarbone to the underside of his razor blade jawline. He licked up every droplet still clinging, cold rainwater melting on his tongue.

The rainfall let up right about the time Don’s lips had felt sore and sensitive from the small bites Loki allowed himself. They parted, breathing hard, searching for each others’ eyes in the dark.

“Suppose we go back now?” Loki asked hoarsely.

Don huffed, amused and madly in love. “That’s your call. I can’t get us out of here, but you surely can since you found your way in.”

Loki probably rolled his eyes. At least, Don hoped he did. He liked seeing the god get some humor back. “If we’re quiet, the boys won’t hear us.”

Don pressed a kiss to Loki’s cheek and grinned with Loki didn’t flinch. They could do this. They’d be fine. “Is that a challenge? Because I can’t think of a better way to spend our Saturday night.”

[naamahdarling]

What is the silliest thing each of your cats do?

Fancy is just a walking silly face, she's so animated and expressive and dramatic, and she likes to come up to me in the kitchen and ask for snackies by sinking her claws into my pants or underpants and pulling them down. GET PANTSED. She also has this thing where she...we call it hate-breathing. She will breathe very loudly when she is annoyed with us, like if we pet her affectionately and she doesn't want it, or if she is hungry and sitting by us, or if she is being held but doesn't really like it, or if she's trying to purr and snuggle and be sweet to get our attention, but you can hear the insincerity in the rasp of her breath. It's incredible. It's so passive aggressive.

Raleigh is just stupid. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. He's just...a very stupid cat. When he is hungry and feeling pitiful about it he goes into the kitchen and over to his little metal dish and he licks the bottom of it with his raspy little tongue. It makes this interesting little ringing sound, and sometimes you can be sitting in the living room and hear it go on for up to five minutes. He does it so often the bottom of the dish is now lightly burnished from his sandpapery little tongue.

Sid opens drawers, cabinets, and boxes, just to see what's inside. He does it like a little person. He will go to a box, open the flap with one paw, look inside, then lower the flap again instead of just letting it go. He sometimes closes the drawers but likes to leave the cabinets open. I guess he heard it's chic to take all the doors off your cabinets so guests can see your six-year-old bottle of sweet and sour sauce.

Smooch has his little routines. Breakfast, then immediately to the water for sipsips. A stroll about the house, a sniff of Raleigh's butt, then he sits a lap and relaxes a while. Then he gets up, gets more sipsips, and if the lap is still there, he gets uppies again. He is sopping wet this time. He burps and falls asleep. He has a dream, he wakes up, throws his head back to determine if I, the human attached to the lap, am still there. He quacks with his eye closed and I assure him I am here. He finishes his nap. Then he goes off on his own business for a while, and has snackies, and maybe a nap in the studio by himself. Then he comes out and maybe bullies his brothers, or has some catnip, or plays a little bit, and then it's dinnertime, and more sipsips, and then more lap time, or a sleep in his carrier. He is a little MAN, with a SCHEDULE. It's so cute. He is such a bastard if it is interrupted.

[redwylde]

I forgot to mention it here, but around two weeks ago I was visiting a friend who is a retro game collector, and I was finally able to play Sonic Adventure 1 and 2 on his original Dreamcast.

And honestly, I finally get it.

I finally get why everyone says these are the best 3D Sonic games. I figured it was mostly nostalgia, but no, the fun and the sauce are just Unrivalled.

Adventure 1 was a really unique experience, I had a lot of fun with it. I miss the hubs so much, Station Square and Mystic Ruins were very fun to explore. GAMMA... The Egg Carrier as a whole map, it was just so fun.

And I don't even need to explain myself with SA2 because y'all know, you've known for years. I got so emotional I started crying when I hit Finalhazard (even though the fight itself made me mald so much LOL) and Live and Learn started playing because I finally get it. How it made you all feel and continues to make you feel to this day.

And it feels nice coz I'm one of you now. A lot of the early 2000s Sonic games I couldn't play because we just couldn't afford the consoles. PS1/2 was it. Now I have adult money and I'm beginning to fill out my collection of things I've missed and I feel instantly connected to the Sonic fans of that time who got to play these on release, and I understand. How it made you all feel.

And now I get to feel it too.

[9haharharley1]

for that promt thing could you do Eating messily for pompep?

I'm so sorry this took so long! The last few days have been one errand-running nightmare after another, but I'm at work now and finally have a moment to write! Here's something short and sweet!

---

Danny really shouldn't have been surprised by the look on Vlad's face when he plopped the bag of Nasty Burger goodness on the kitchen island, and really, he wasn't. He outright laughed at the glare Vlad gave the semi-greasy bag, only to laugh harder as Vlad leveled that glare on him.

"Oh, come on, Fruitloop!" he teased, taking a seat across from the older man on one of the bar stools. He reached for the bag and pulled out a burger and fries, holding them out. "You used to be a poor peasant kid like me! One burger isn't gonna kill you."

"It can kill half of me," Vlad muttered. Danny laughed, Vlad wrinkling his nose to hide his smile. He shook the burger and fries at the man until Vlad sighed. He took them reluctantly. "Oh, if you insist! Honestly, Daniel, when you said you would be paying for dinner, I expected something that at least wouldn't clog my arteries."

Danny leveled a look at the man as he pulled out his own burger and fries. "Vlad, I'm a struggling high school student. I'm not exactly rolling in cash for anything better."

"You could have just asked, dear boy," said Vlad. "I can give you whatever you need to buy a decent meal every now and then."

A blush came to Danny's cheeks, his insides feeling a little squirmy from the sincere words; a sincerity he had yet to get used to. "Kinda ruins the point of me buying dinner," he muttered back. He pulled his soda out of the drink carrier, pushing the other to Vlad. "Gotta make up for all the tutoring and training somehow."

Vlad smiled at him, soft and delighted, and it made Danny's face burn hotter. "It's no trouble at all, little badger, and you know it. You don't have to pay me back except with your company. Having you around has made this old manor feel a little less lonely." He unwrapped his burger, missing the way Danny stared back at him with wide eyes. Vlad's lip curled in disgust. "Although, I must insist on just cooking from now on, if it's all the same to you."

"It's not that bad, Vlad," Danny said, hoping his blush wasn't so obvious as he took a big bite of his burger. "At least try it!"

"At least swallow before speaking, Daniel," Vlad shot back, and Danny sometimes hated being a gutter-minded teenager because his thoughts immediately turned to other things he could swallow. He choked, inhaling a small piece of burger and immediately coughing, doubling over the side of the counter as he hit his chest. Vlad looked on in concern, but Danny waved him off, thankful to now have some kind of excuse for his reddened face. He took a large gulp of his soda. "Looks like I was right about the half-dying."

Danny's coughing turned to choked laughter. "Oh, just eat the damn burger!"

Vlad rolled his eyes. "Oh, very well." And he took a bite.

Danny watched as the older halfa's eyebrow hitched, a small noise if approval escaping him. The younger man smirked. "Told ya it was good."

Vlad glared, having the decency to swallow his food before replying, "Don't be a brat, Daniel."

Danny's smirk widened. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Eyebrow raised, Vlad didn't reply, but there was a glint in his eyes as he stared back at Danny, one that made him flush and feel hot all over. Vlad took another bite of his burger, a bit of sauce catching on the corner of his mouth.

Without thinking, Danny leaned over the table, reaching out to gently wipe at the spot. Vlad froze as he did, blue eyes dark and unreadable. Danny slowly sat back down, his own eyes wide, unable to hide his scarlet cheeks.

"Um..." Why had he done that?! "You, uh... had some"- he pointed the sauce on his finger towards his own mouth. Vlad continued to stare.

Then he reached out, gripping Danny's wrist before the younger could wipe his hand. He pulled the smaller hand back to him, Danny having to stretch over the island awkwardly. His face was aflame, feeling about ready to explode as Vlad kept staring into his eyes. Sweat beaded at the back of his neck, and he actually squeaked when the man brought his finger to his mouth, licking the bit of sauce from the tip. Danny bit his lip, eyes wide as Vlad maintained eye-contact the whole time, jerking his hand away when he finally let go. Danny snatched it back, his whole body feeling like it was on fire.

"Wha-?" he croaked out, and Vlad smirked at him. His eyes were heavy with promise as he stared at Danny.

"You're right, Daniel," he uttered, voice low and dark, a bit of fang poking through his grin. "The burger isn't that bad at all."

Danny exhaled a shaky breath.

"I... uh... Bathroom!" he whisper-shouted, practically tripping out of his chair, blushing madly as he heard Vlad's dark chuckle echo after him.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Convenience Store Vampire, part 8

Part 1, Part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

“Hush, Dave,” she said, in a most un-Vaceni-like tone. “Don't worry about him. His diplomatic pass will let him get through any situation. I've seen ‘im literally talk down an army with that pass.”

Wait, what? I turned to her and peered closer. Mrs Vaceni smiled at me innocently, a glint of gold in her eyes, and it dawned on me. “Hash! Oh, you wicked, deceitful, clever girl! Gods above, I didn't even suspect a thing!”

‘Mrs Vaceni' giggled, and her skin melted to become Hash, two heads shorter and half as wide. “Ah know, it's almost like I'm a godsdamn ‘shifter, Davie,” she said, grinning slyly. “Now, let's go check on our ghostie, neh?”

I nodded, and we both turned to the closet. It really was a miracle that nobody had spotted the ever-increasing pool of dark liquid around it. “You know… I could have sworn that ghost ectoplasm was transparent, not… Whatever the hells this thing is,” I said, peering at inky puddle.

Hash shrugged. “Who cares? We rescue the little bugger, we get ‘im on ‘is feet, and we go ‘bout our day,” she said matter-of-factly, and opened the door.

A miniature flood of that black fluid came gushing out of the closet, and I jumped aside to avoid staining my shoes. Hash poked her head inside, uncaring of the filth on her clothes, and hauled the ghostly exorcist out.

He was drenched in that liquid, a giant glob of goo and blackness that only vaguely resembled a man. “Somefin' went wrong,” Hash announced, her brows furrowed. 

“Yeah, I see that,” I muttered. The broom closet seemed fine, apart from a toppled bottle of cleaning fluid. “Say, what happens when chemicals touch a ghost?”

Hash gave me a horrified look. “How the hells should ah know? Dinnae tell me- Ah, shite,” she said, shaking her hand free of the goop. “Get me a tissue, Davie. A lotta tissue.”

“Mrs Vaceni is gonna kill me for this,” I mumbled as I pulled out a roll of kitchen towels. “Speaking of which, what happened to her? The real Mrs Vaceni ought to be here by now.”

“Oh, about that…” Hash made an apologetic face. “I mighta hit her with a sleepin’ spell. No biggie, tho; She'll be fine in six hours or so.”

Hopefully that would give me enough time to clean up this mess. I handed the roll of paper to Hash and extracted the mop from the closet. Much like everything else, it was coated in a layer of liquid, and I wiped it down quickly. “Wait, let me put the ghost in a container, so he does not mess this place up,” I said, hauling out our largest carrier box and placing it behind the counter. Hash placed the ghost in it and continued wiping him with tissue.

“Davie, I think we need some water,” Hash reported, as I finished mopping up the floor. The stains had mostly washed away with the remnants of the cleaning fluid, and I found myself eternally grateful for the fact that hardly anyone visited my store. Hash and the ghost could probably hide behind the counter, but it would be hard to explain the pile of black-stained tissues and the mop-bucket of goo. I supposed I could have claimed it was barbecue sauce.

“Ugh, alright,” I grumbled, emptying the bucket into the sink and refilling it with clean water. Hopefully the goo would not harden and clog up the pipes, or I was going to spend a very uncomfortable afternoon with the plunger. I brought the full bucket to her (without breaking a sweat or struggling, perks of being a vampire,) and poured the whole thing on the ghost.

The effect was instant. Black slime flowed off, and a translucent boy, perhaps ten years of age, was revealed. He opened his eyes and spluttered for air he did not need, batting the bucket aside and gasping. “You! Mo-Monsters!”

Hash and I exchanged an irritated glance. Both of us had dealt with enough speciesist exorcists for the week. “Listen here, exorcist,” Hash said, her voice stern, no trace of an accent. “We've just worked our asses off to rescue you from your own people. So kindly refrain from insulting us. Besides, you're a monster too, now.”

The ghost blinked, and looked down at his hands. The spluttering immediately started back up again. “What the hells?! I'm- this- This can't be happening! I'm alive, I swear! I can't be- Oh, hells no!” He batted at himself as though he could smack the ghostliness away, and burst into tears.

“Hey, kid,” I said, feeling sorry for him, “It's alright. Being dead isn't all that bad. You can dive underwater as long as you want, and nobody ever asks for your ID.”

The ghost glared at me. "Bring me a mirror,” he demanded. Hash pulled out a compact and passed it to him.

He gasped at the face in the mirror. “Why- Oh no, no, no! I'm twenty-seven, not seven! And my hair. Why is Ina punishing me like this?!”

Oh, yes. Did I mention his hair was pink? Not a neon pink, either. It was the colour of little girls' dresses, the shade of pink that peonies so often were. Baby pink, fit for a man who looked like one. 

You know, whenever I feel bad about my miserable existence, I think of him. I might be an ancient vampire working a dead end job, but at least I was not a pink-haired exorcist ghost.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet,

CSV: @wifeblade, @trippingpossum (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[lilrainbowcloud]

So many unanswered questions in TUA 4

1. Sloane???

2. Jennifer? What was with her?She was barely developed beyond being a plot device.

3. Why was she in a squid? Does she remember it? Why did she say 'The Cleanse' after getting out of it?

4. Klaus being useless. My fav character being underutilized especially after the character arc in the previous season.

5. Luther seemingly not missing his wife at all. I know its been six years but still...after the timline travelling subway reveal I thought he might try to find her.

6. Lila and Five. I get that they were stuck for seven years but Five would not do that to his brother. Why did they have to be stuck so long in the first place? What purpose did it serve other than that cursed romance?

7. The whole plot of S3 is the Kugelblitz which was caused by the Umbrellas due to the Grandfather paradox. Won't Lila and Diego's kids and Claire create the same problem in the original timeline?

This is pretty long but there's still so much more.

This season feels unreal and I mean that in a derogatory way.

TUA S4 SPOILER!!!

if you want to send me an ask to talk about this traumatic experience, you can!! i welcome you with open arms. here's a hot chocolate ☕

just finished and i had to take a minute and currently listening to chappell roan bcz holy shit

-might i say that i missed the sparrows and my sweetheart babygirl sloane? like damn ..

-yeah the only thing that plot line server was durango and marigold carrier + s*x = the end of the world

-but i think that was the only plot line i liked between ben and jen but GOD it was rushed like i want them to build trust and the relationship moreeeeeee

-OK BRO KLAUS!! MY BABYBOY KLAUS! OURRR BABYBOY KLAUS!!! god i hated that they made him relapsed or what like i was sooo happy that he was doing so well but of course the writers had to fuck him up one last time :(

-it was lost in the sauce. he did mentioned that "oh sloane would love this!" and i thought awwww but that was pretty much it :/

-this...... lila and five....... istg i said it and i'll say it AGAIN. they(the writers) pulled that one out of their asses boys. like what the actual fawkkkkkery was that? and to do it in montage form is VILE. i had to skip a lot of it. hard to watch. y/n im so sorry that you had to go through that😭😭 and infidelity???? i mean come on they killed people but trust and loyalty you cant break that i thought Five was better than that... how dare you Five. and lila wanted to dip the MOMENT that Five told her about the way back... like you did not just s-c-r-e-w him a moment ago

-and oh my god poor diegooooo hes trying so hard to be better and that reunion and the confrontation was HARD TO WATCH like damn... and she didnt answer him when he asked "Do you love him?" 2 TIMES. and yeah lila loves Five wbk fuckkkkkk

-but omg HAHA i have like 5 different angst fics in my head already brewing in my head HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA

-their kids, right?? im not pretty sure about the whole messed up timeline bit bcz theres a lot to understand and tbh i only just watched s1,2, and 3 like a month ago when they announced s4 released date hehe but yes all the things they did messed up the TL up

-oh and btw did you notice the ending?? was the family lila's?? bcz i noticed that the normal people all existed right? i cant rememberrrrr

[lightofraye]

You keep saying Jensen’s stories about the kids aren’t true because they’re generic and lack heart. Fine. You said you’re a mom. Tell us a few stories that you deem good enough then…

Hello anon!

I accept your challenge!

Shall I regal you about how, as a baby (roughly 10-11 months old), we introduced scrambled eggs to my son? He loved them. But he wouldn’t sit still for us to feed him. Oh no. He would do these little bird beak motions with his lips and swoop a bite from our spoon every time he was ready to eat more!

Or the first time I introduced spaghetti to him? Oh lord. To this day I’m not convinced he even ate any—it was all over him! But he wanted more the next day so I’m gonna have to assume he actually ate it and liked it.

Or how about when I gave him frosted animal crackers? He was charmed by them, grabbed the whole plate and proceeded to eat them while playing with his toys. Or so I thought. Then he called me and I looked over—and my eyes widened. He had shoved the crackers into his hot wheels car carrier semi to transport them. One friend noted, after I shared the story, that he had the right concept….

Or how he fell asleep with his elbow in his pizza. Or decided to use mash potatoes as a kind of exfoliant on his arm….

Here’s one with my daughter.

She had asked me to sample something she had made. I did, and within a few chewing bites, I tasted the spice and she saw the look on my face.

“Too spicy?!”

Me: “Yes! What’s in that?!”

She rattled off a list and cayenne caught my attention.

Me: “How much did you put in there??”

Her: “Just like 1/4 teaspoon!”

Me: “God! Too much!”

She couldn’t believe it. Y’all… I’m SENSITIVE to anything remotely spicy. I can’t even tolerate mild sauce from Taco Bell, okay? I’m pitiful.

See? Real stories! Hilarious stories! Stories with heart!

I mean… there was one time I tried this ground beef and broccoli recipe. First time. Looked good, but would it taste good?

My son eyed it dubiously. After all, it had dun dun dunn—vegetables!

I urged him to try. Just a couple of bites. I promised him if he didn’t like it, then it’s okay. He tried.

He nodded, tried a bite—and his whole face lit up! He liked it!

I couldn’t finish my own plate before he asked for seconds.

I made extra for lunch the next day—I ended up not having any extra because he ate it all for dinner!

Where’s the story of the kids’ first brain freeze in trying ice cream? Or a new flavor?

(My daughter and I tried this Blue Moon ice cream a couple of months ago. We had gotten curious about it because it was blue! Hated it. Oh my gods.)

Where’s the story about a new jam/jelly flavor that they hated? Or peanut butter making it hard for them to talk for a moment? Or…

Like… Jensen tried to claim Danneel was trying new French recipes or Italian recipes (the man can’t stay on one story)—okay. How did the kids take to the new stuff? Any favorites? Any horror stories?

It. Is. Lacking!