#“he’s a 40 year old peepaw’

[skillzissue]

“I can’t remember the last time it rained…”

[cherrytraveller]

broken swords & broken bonds.

Twitter || Ko-fi || Instagram

[revitalizationrat]

At first I didn't think of making one, but the urge to state Leo's species as "peepaw" was too strong

(He's a peepaw only bc he's tired and in pain and feels like he's 70 instead of 40 years old-)

@tmntaucompetition

[bearsbeetsbeskar]

Somebody to Heal, Somebody to Hold (Joel Miller x dispensary! reader) 🍃 🔥 💨

Chapter 1 : Moonberry

Chapter 2 here || Chapter 3 here || Main masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x dispensary! reader, AU no outbreak Rating: none, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut, age gap) Summary: Joel can't rely on pills anymore for his back pain, so his doctor prescribes him medicinal marijuana. But he's not happy about it. Word count: 6.6K A/N: This is a shameless indulgence because I wanna see PEEPAW get HIGH. He needs it, his BACK needs it. He's not gonna like it at first though 🌚. A thank you to my literal heart and soul @iamasaddie who listened for hours on end to my rambles and creative word vomit about this idea, I love you forever. I will add the tag list later tonight. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

“God fucking damn it.”

Joel’s resounding growl reverberates throughout the empty house as he slams another kitchen drawer closed with a loud thud. He impatiently rifles through the drawers one by one in a failed attempt to find any pain killers, any fucking pills he can get his hands on, really. His hands flit through stale takeout menus, spare remote batteries, streamers, matches and other miscellaneous odds and ends with no avail. 

He even went so far as to look in Sarah’s bathroom cabinet above the sink and her dresser drawers too. The pieces of furniture in her room somberly coated with a thin layer of dust, marking her absence ever since she left for college a couple months ago. He didn’t have any success. No Advil, no Tylenol, not even any RUB A535 or joint pain creams to be found in any corners of the seemingly empty Miller house. 

Damn. 

She must have taken anything she had with her off to college when she moved into her dorm, Joel surmised. The dresser’s groan as he shuts it close rivals Joel’s, that rips  from the back of his throat as he feels another sharp, needling pinch in his lower back. It eventually subsides into a dull ache but he knows he doesn’t need to move in any abrupt or particular way to trigger the same said infuriating pain, sending shockwaves down his back, through his spine. He grits his teeth and rests both of his palms on the textured surface of the wood, trying to ground himself as his back rounds and he hunches over. Looking up into the mirror attached to the dresser, he grimaces. Recoiling from the image of an old man with hollowed circles under his eyes, grey hairs littering his head and his permanent scowl. 

Joel is old. He knows that much. The years on him are telling.  Aside from his physical looks, his knees are shot and there isn’t a day where he has to physically brace himself to bend down, swing his legs out of bed, or hoist anything above his head when he’s out on jobs. Even his ability to pick up jobs and swiftly finish them as if he was a sprightly 35 year old with a slightly athletic build has slowed down tremendously. It takes him twice as long to seemingly do anything nowadays, regardless of whether it’s physically laborious. 

Hell, he even struggled when it came to moving Sarah into her college dorm room. Even though she remained in state and her campus wasn’t more than a 2 hour drive away, and multiple trips could be made, Joel steeled himself to ensure he would be there to do the heavy lifting, and only have to do it once. Enlisting Tommy’s help would have made it easier as well but of course his younger brother was too gregarious for his own good. Aside from showing up 40 minutes late, with a 6 pack of Lone Star in his hand and forgetting the tools he was supposed to bring, Tommy was more easily preoccupied setting up the mini fridge he bought for Sarah, Which of course Joel scolded him for, and joking around with other freshmen in the dorm. 

The harsh reality is that the harder he tries to forget about it and ignore his persisting aches and pains, the more his body and mind humble him without fail that he is old. Broken. Might as well be, seeing as he’s about losing his damn mind without having any painkillers to pop and wash down with a glass of whiskey. 

He recalls the fruitless conversation he had with the doctor two weeks earlier which had placed Joel in his current predicament. 

“Getting older is a facet of life Joel, I’m not gonna lie to you about that. And you’re an otherwise healthy guy, aside from your cholesterol creeping up a bit high and the occasional spike in your blood sugar.” His doctor told him frankly as he flipped through Joel’s medical history.

“Unfortunately your body is just responding to the stresses of doing physically intensive work, as it does with any other person when they age.”

Joel opens his mouth, already ready to refute the doctor's next words, when the doctor holds his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know, you’ve been doing the same job for years. Nothing about being a contractor has changed. The fact of the matter is the job remains the same but you have changed Joel. Your body just can’t keep up as quickly, nor can it recover as quickly anymore. All that heavy lifting, straining the same muscles over and over in fixed positions, it’s just catching up with you now.”

Joel crosses his arms over his chest and grinds his jaw. “I’ve been managing just fine,” he grunts, not trying to hide his annoyance through the lie. 

He had been trying to take it slower in the past couple months. The key word being trying. 

Sending Sarah off to college was no easy feat financially, especially as a single parent, but Joel wanted to give his daughter the best chance at a college education, knowing how bright and determined she was. He worked hard to save for her tuition, the first two years that is, but he wouldn’t admit he was running himself into the ground trying to pick up more jobs than he could handle on his own, in order to save up for the rest. Forget the tuition, there was also the cost of residence for living on campus, her textbooks, a laptop, student association fees and a whole bunch of other crap he couldn’t wrap his head around.

“Back in my day you just went to your lectures in the same building, wrote in the same notebook, and used the computers on campus,” he grumbled as he squinted at the tuition balance outlined in the letter sent by her college. There were more zeros than necessary behind said balance that already had Joel’s mind spiraling into a panic.

“I thought you only did like, less than a year of college before you dropped out to start working in the trades Dad,” Sarah quirked her brow at him smugly. 

“It was nine months,” he corrected her, “long enough for me to realize that it wasn’t for me.”

“Not long enough for you to learn how to properly use a computer though,” she smirks as she watches Joel start scribbling numbers down onto a piece of paper, reverting to mental math instead of using a calculator. 

“It was a long time ago smart ass,” he chides her despite the warmth in his eyes. “Besides, you were still so young. I was spending more time outside of the home, working and trying to juggle school, away from you and your mother. It wasn’t ideal. The trades allowed me to be flexible with my hours, while being able to spend more time with you”

His doctor gave him a sympathetic look and sighed. “If that were the case, I don’t think you would be here and we would be having this conversation right now would we?”

He sits down in his chair and wheels over to the computer sitting on the desk, clicking this and clicking that as he filters through the previous medications that had been prescribed to Joel, before he turns to face him.

“Now in any other instance, I would prescribe you slightly stronger painkillers than what you’ve received in the past,” Joel subconsciously starts nodding along, ready for the spiel about his prescription dosages and what not. “But, because your cholesterol is a little high right now, I can’t do that.”

The crease in between Joel’s eyebrows deepen as he tries to anticipate what the doctor tells him next. 

“The side effects from an over the counter painkiller could spike your cholesterol even higher, which is what we do not want,” the doctor continues, unaware of Joel’s steadily boiling frustration. “Which is why I wanted to suggest an alternate method for pain management, something more natural.”

For fucks sake. 

He thought this would be a simple appointment. Show up, get a new prescription for whatever magic pills can help this pain in his back to dissipate, and go home. Not look into ‘alternative methods’ that undoubtedly wouldn’t work.

Joel’s gaze narrows and he huffs, leaning back in his seat. “Natural? Like what, seeing one of those hokey practitioners that read your energies and use natural herb remedies and all that crap?”

“Not quite that per say but it is natural medicine. Medical marijuana to be exact.”

Joel’s mouth goes dry as his jaw hangs open. Weed? Nope. Not the solution he was looking for. 

Maybe what he should be on the market for is a new doctor at this point. 

“Uh listen, I appreciate the suggestion doc, but I don’t think that’s gonna help me at this point. I don’t do that kinda stuff,” he waves his hand dismissively. “If it gets to that point I’ll crack open a beer.” Joel leans forward in his seat and he starts to get up.

“Just a second, hold on. At least let me write you a prescription for it today and you can choose whether or not you want to get it filled at a dispensary.”

“I don’t think-” Joel continues to protest but the doctor cuts him off.

“It’s medicinal marijuana Joel,” the doctor says plainly, as if that’s supposed to calm his nerves. “It has opiate-like properties, which means it’s similar to a pain killer, just without all the usual side effects that come with over the counter medicine. Lots of individuals, older and younger,” the doctor pointedly emphasizes, “use it to help with aches, pain, anxiety, even mental health issues. Not just the physical.”

Joel continues to eye the doctor warily, his spine now stiff as he sits up in the chair. Even now, he can feel his body protesting his upright position, the inkling of that pinched phantom pain coming back slightly. 

“Does it get you high?” he asks the older man. 

Aside from the stories he’s heard, he’s had his fair share of buddies who used to toke up back in the day. Hell, they didn’t even know what was in it back then, they just smoked as a distraction, something fun to do, to take the edge off after a long day's work. Joel tried it once and didn’t like it at all. The hazy, fuzzy feeling not mixing well with his frayed nerves, glassy eyed and out of touch with his body. No, he would much rather crack open a beer or pour himself a whiskey neat to kick back and relax when he was stressed.

“Not necessarily, some strains, or some kinds of weed have a higher content of THC, tetrahydrocannabinol, the psychoactive component that makes you feel high or ‘out of it,”’ the doctor explains with finger quotes. “Some medicinal marijuana are low in THC but high in CBD, the relaxing component of marijuana. CBD acts as a relaxer, and it can ease physical pain. So depending on what you’re comfortable with, you can opt for the kinds that have a high CBD but low THC content, which will help with any pain issues, without causing you to experience the high.”

Joel’s mind whirls around the acronyms. THC, CBD, ABC. Christ. Does it have to be this fucking complicated? 

He knows his doctor is only trying to help at this point, basically just doing his job, but this is way beyond Joel’s comfort zone. He inhales deeply and leans back against the chair as he resigns himself to this conclusion. Seeing as there are no other options.

Picking up on Joel’s internal freak out, the doctor explains. “It’s a lot of information to process, I know. But like I said, take the prescription and think about it. There’s a new dispensary in town here where you can go and take the prescription, have them fill it, chat more about the options and see how you feel. If you’re still adamant about the painkillers then come see me in a couple weeks and we can discuss it more. I want you to try a few things to lower your cholesterol in the meantime.” 

His doctor writes the prescription on the office letterhead, and hands it to Joel along with a card for the dispensary in town.

Fast forward to the present, Joel turns around from the dresser and leans back against it. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the prescription slip, the paper now visibly creased due to the number of times he had folded and unfolded it in contemplation. Of course it was near impossible to make out the doctor's chicken scratch handwriting.

Must be a requirement of all medical school grads. Step 1, learn to write illegibly, step 2, graduate

He is able to make out the other writing further towards the bottom of the slip, where the doctor haphazardly scribbled out ‘cholesterol’ and underneath it read ‘less red meat and beer, more omega-3’s (fish and eggs), and more fruits.’

“Might as well buy a fucking casket at this point,” he grumbled to himself. If there was a world where he couldn’t enjoy a juicy ribeye steak along with a cold beer anymore, well, he had pretty much resigned himself to the conclusion that that was not a world he wanted to be in.

—-----------------------------------------------------

“Alright so we have the Pink Kush Indica loose leaf at 3.5 mg, at 19.7% THC, and the Strawberry Rain hybrid pre-roll pack at 22.4% THC, a very good choice by the way. Is there anything else I can help you with?” 

You smile warmly at the customer you’re cashing out at the front till. He’s a young guy, no older than 19, maybe 20? Legal age, but with the way this kid’s eyes are nervously darting around the store, looking at everything but your eye line, you correctly assume it’s his first time buying marijuana products. 

“No, nothing else, thanks,” he mumbles as he fidgets with his coat pockets, before paying and quickly snatching up his purchases and shoving them in his pocket, briefly turning to exit the store. 

You chuckle to yourself internally and shake your head, remembering what your first time was like when you legally bought from a dispensary after the government legalized marijuana. 

Despite its legality, you were a fucking deer in headlights as the dispensary worker tried to explain to you the differences in strains, types of weed, paraphernalia that you could use to consume it. Wholly consumed by the guilt of acknowledging you were purchasing illicit (yet completely legal) drugs, you scurried out of the store as quickly as you could after getting what you needed. What would your parents say if they found out? Not that they ever would, but the ever present shame that needled and cracked through the facade of their wholesome daughter, their good girl, consuming such a horrendous drug, the devil’s lettuce, now that shame loomed over your head constantly for a long time.

You sigh and turn to go into the back storage room. Only 1 hour left until close luckily, yet somehow the last hour of your shift always seems to go by the slowest. Go figure.

“Let me guess, 19 ?” Your colleague Josh guesses with a presumptuous smirk on his face, as he continues to count the inventory of vapes in your storage room.

“Try 21! I believe you owe me dude,” you hear a chirpy voice chime in, as you look to see your other coworker Stef strolling in right behind you. 

She holds her hand out expectantly as she approaches Josh, as he slaps a $5 bill into her up-facing palm, a smug grin plastered across her face. Stef usually worked the front door so naturally she would remember the ages of most customers that walked in, after scrutinizing over their ID and making dismissive comments about their appearances and age. Sometimes she was too blunt and outspoken for her own good, but you would call her out on it, all good natured. She was your best friend from elementary school. So naturally when she began working at One Plant and a part time position opened up, she hounded you about it constantly until you came into the store with a copy of your resume, briefly chatting with the manager at the time. 

You gasp with feigned sarcasm as you cross your arms over your chest, leaning against a supply shelf.

“You guys said you would stop betting on the customers last week! C’mon now.” You reprimanded them lightly, a half hearted attempt to be the voice of reason, despite the smile on your face. Stef and Josh both outranked you in terms of seniority as they had been working at the shop longer, but it didn’t stop them from concocting new shenanigans every fucking week to make the time go by faster and make your shifts more entertaining. 

“What? The kid looked like he damn near was having a fucking seizure when I was checking his I.D.. Yeah he’s technically ‘legal,’” she emphasizes with air quotes, “but he looked like he got lost on a fucking field trip, poor baby.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head once again. Stef may be blunt and take the mick out of customers with a thinly veiled sense of self restraint, but you loved her. She made the days go by faster, as did Josh, lord knows he put up with so many of your antics. It’s a miracle he kept you both in the store at all, despite his threats to take you both off schedule because you couldn’t contain the bullshit amongst yourselves. He joined in on the fun once in a while, giving you a break and empathizing. 

“They’re getting younger and younger everyday, I swear.” Josh chimes in as he does a double count of the inventory before logging it into your system. 

“I suppose back in your day, you just bought whatever you could from the local dealer who lived in his mother’s basement, right grandpa?” Stef poked at him, as she sat down and propped her feet up on the table used to package orders, scrolling on her phone.

You snorted as you began to tidy up and organize the stock for the following day, preparing any orders that were due for an early pick up. Grabbing a pack of indica pre-rolls here, a couple vape cartridges there, putting away the bongs and pipes that were out on display.

It’s true, that despite the government legalizing marijuana over a year ago, there was still a large influx of customers who were new to consuming the herb, in the face of its notoriety as an illicit street drug. The dispensary saw all manners of people who came in seeking relaxation, calmness, appetite inducing, sensory heightening products. You almost couldn’t believe it when you started working here. 

Customers ranged anywhere from barely legal college kids, who couldn’t tell the difference between sativa or indica and couldn’t roll a joint to save their lives, to young parents needing a break between the monotony of daycare and diapers, as well as trade workers coming off a long day at the job, or even seniors looking for a mild pain relaxer. 

“Everyone’s got a vice, everyone is looking for a piece of that relaxation. Not all stoners look like typical stoners,” Josh quietly reminded you as he trained you during your first week on the job. 

You took his comment in stride and tried your best not to judge the customers when they came in looking for their vice. Everyone had their reasons, undoubtedly, and those reasons were absolutely none of your business, Stef had so compassionately reminded you, despite your bristling at her blunt words.

Today would turn out to be no different, you realized, as you went back out to the front of the store, and began locking up the display cabinets, putting the weed samples back in their glass cases. You hear the bell toll of the front door opening and you call out to Stef in the back, but it doesn’t reach her ears over the sound of her chattering with Josh. 

You glance at the clock. 4:32 pm, less than half an hour to go. Steeling yourself, you walk over to the entrance, where the double doors are that let customers into the store. An added measure for security, despite the so-called front ‘checkpoint desk’ where customers had to show their I.D. before walking into the main store that contained actual products. 

“Thanks for coming into One Plant, can I see some I.D.?” You parrot the painstakingly rehearsed greeting as you round the corner to the desk at the front. You look up to see an older guy standing there awkwardly, between the exit door, and the front desk, almost like he’s not sure he wants to really be in the store. 

He looks around suspiciously at his surroundings, his brow furrowed as he takes you in. 

“Uhm, can I see your I.D. sir?” You ask him again, mirroring his confused expression as you appraise his demeanor. You tap your knuckles on the laminated sign on the desk that states  I.D. MUST BE SHOWN, ONLY 18+ PERMITTED ENTRY to emphasize your point.

The man blinks once or twice, then shakes himself out of whatever daze he was in, as he fumbles into his back pocket for his wallet, fishing out his license for you. 

“Yeah sorry, here you go.”

You don’t pay much attention to the picture on the license, you never usually do, as bad as it is to say. As far as you were concerned, if the mental math added up in your head, and they were 18, you let them in. This time you take a bit more time to analyze this man’s ID card. You poorly attempt to hide the raise in your eyebrows as your gaze scans his year of birth. There’s no way this guy is over 40. He can’t be. You look from the stiff plastic card in your hand, back up to the man towering over you at the desk, taking in his slightly greying hair and his sparse beard. The crows feet etched on his face, and his seemingly permanent scowl gave away his years without fault. 

You look down at the card again. Joel Miller. Huh. Just as you look back up at him, he raises his eyebrows at you expectantly. Realizing you have been holding onto his card for far too long than is appropriate you hand it back to him quickly.

“Sorry, can’t be too careful,” you say playfully, but that doesn’t seem to dissuade his nerves as he puts the card back into his wallet, back into his pocket. Hands shoved into his coat pockets as he stood frozen to the spot.

“Come on in,” you gesture for him to come in as you press the button to open the interconnected door that leads to the shop.

He follows you in, continuing to look around the store anxiously, stiff as a board. 

You make a beeline for the register counter, secretly praying that this guy knows what he wants to order so that you can all clock out in time. Usually, you didn’t usually mind staying behind late most days but you had been feeling burnt out between school and the hours at the dispensary lately, and you were all too looking forward to going home, smoking a fat joint and unwinding with some drag race. It didn’t look like that would be happening any time soon though, much to your dismay, as you notice the deer in headlights expression on this poor guy. His gaze darted from the display cases to the glassware, despite his broad stature he was clearly overwhelmed by everything in front of him. 

You clear your throat in an attempt to pull him out of his current state of fight or flight.

“First time here?”

His gaze snaps back to you, and for a second you genuinely can’t remember if you asked him the question, or if he asked you something, with the way his huge brown eyes widen and soften slightly before he furrows his brows. 

“Is it that obvious?” The deep warmth of his baritone voice betrays the gruffness in his response and you chuckle. The corner of his lips curl into a lopsided, sheepish smile. 

Bless this first timer and his apprehension. You take pity on his naivete. 

“Not to worry at all. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” You match his small smile in return.

“Uhm,” he furrows his brows again and starts to peer around the store anxiously again, as if he was being watched. “Something for pain management?” He quirks one eyebrow at you, in question, almost as if he’s unsure if that’s the right answer. He fidgets a bit, shifting his weight and then sighing while pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. 

He squints at the paper briefly. “At least, that’s what my doctor has written here. I think. Can’t be sure with this damn chicken scratch.” He scowls slightly, clearly irritated he is in this predicament.

Again. Bless this first timer, old man. Well, not really THAT old, but still. 

“I can help you with that, as for the legibility of doctor handwriting, I’m afraid that’s a lost cause,” you quip. Much to your surprise, he huffs out a laugh in response.

“Yeah no shit. It’s a good thing I clocked what the doctor said before relying on the written prescription.”

“Well, you’re in luck because we have lots of options to choose from in terms of pain management. We have anything from herb, to edibles, to pre rolls, to drinks. Anything really, you name it.”

You chirp off the options, in your customer service voice. Although it doesn’t really feel like you’re trying to sell him something at this point, moreso that you’re educating him on what’s available.

It’s a good thing too, with the way his soulful brown eyes continue to get wider, and the crease between his brows deepen with each option you mention to him. 

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, “how about something to smoke?”

“For sure! If you’re looking for something for pain management, that’ll likely be higher on the CBD end, with less THC, more relaxation based.”

“That sounds good,” he gives you another small smile. You start to search for CBD dominant strains in the register database as he shifts a bit closer to the counter, resting his hand with the prescription slip in it, on the countertop. 

He has nice hands. Big hands. With nice long, thick fingers. Like really fucking thick. And his thumbs are perfectly curved. You also notice a faint tattoo that's fading, hovering just above the webbing between his index finger and thumb, of… a bullseye? Interesting.

“Alright so we have a selection of pre rolled joints as well as loose herb for CBD, depending on what your preference is. Some people like to roll themselves, plus it’s a bit cheaper to buy it loose and roll it yourself, compared to buying pre-rolled, but it’s up to you.”

Still, he looks at you with a lost expression, but ultimately says says “Let’s go with the pre rolled ones.”

“Sounds good. Any flavour preferences? Or dislikes?”

He furrows his brows again and frowns slightly. God help this man. That should not be as endearing and cute as it is.

“Flavours?” He looks downright bewildered, as if you asked him when he’s going to jetspace off to Mars, that or to sacrifice his first born child. It could very well be both at this point. This poor old man. It must be his first time buying weed in general, not just coming into the dispensary.

Understanding his predicament, you backpedal a bit. At this point you might as well be getting commission on top of the ludacris minimum wage you receive, seeing as how eager you are to assist this man. Normally you couldn’t be bothered to be so thorough and patient with customers when it was nearing closing time but this guy is so lost, you take pity on him. It had nothing to do with how attractive he is. 

“Yeah! Weed products come in all different kinds of flavours, depending on the strain. It’s more noticeable with edibles and drinks, any products you consume orally, but loose leaf herb, or the actual weed buds, have different flavours too. If you like fruity stuff there is Mango haze, or strawberry sativa, or if you like a more sour savoury palette, there is sour diesel or lemon haze. Or there are kinds that don’t have a distinct flavour profile or smell, they smell and taste pretty generic when you consume or smoke them.”

“Uh, I think those might be my best bet,” he chuckles hollowly.

“Alright, sounds good.” Going off his limited knowledge and inexperience, you pick a pack for him that is a hybrid strain, light on the THC and heavy on the CBD. Usually it’s pretty good for beginners who aren’t looking to get stupid high and not too expensive.

You turn to the back wall window behind the countertop, and knock on the glass, catching the attention of Stef and Josh.

“Hey, can one of you guys grab me the 5 pack of Moonberry pre-rolls for this walk in order?”

Stef conveniently taps her index finger on her nose and looks presumptuously at Josh, making no effort to get up from her seat, who rolls his eyes and goes over to the inventory shelf. No sooner does he walk back over to hand you the pack, does Stef tear her glance away from her phone, and peek up at the register counter, clocking the man. Her jaw drops and she instantly wiggles her eyebrows at you. Before she can put her open mouth to use and make a smart ass comment, you grab the pack of joints from Josh and pivot back towards the register. As you turn back around, you just barely catch the man’s gaze snapping back up to yours, as if he was looking somewhere further south down your body. 

No. You’re just imagining that. Your brain running on fumes as the last remnant of your shift dwindles down.

“Okay, this is a 5 pack of pre rolls. It’s called Moon Berry, it’s a hybrid, but it’s very light on the THC and heavy on the CBD. Good for relaxation and it helps with pain. Try ‘em out and see how you like them.” You put the pack in a small bag and ring up the cost for him. 

After he hands you the cash and takes the small bag into his massive hand, he hovers a bit. Shuffling awkwardly as he waits for something else.

“Uh, is there anything else you needed today?” you ask him after a beat. His hand clutching the bag twitches by his side, and his lips part slightly. 

Okay this man is cute. More than cute. He’s ridiculously attractive in an aloof sort of way. His disheveled curls, prominent nose and chocolate brown eyes have you short circuiting, as if you were the one purchasing something from him. Still, you reassure yourself it’s the delusion of it being the final minutes of your workday, not the handsome stranger. Not at all. 

Say something. Say anything. Jesus.

At this point you’re not really sure if you’re telling that to yourself or silently pleading to him.

“Need a lighter?” you blurt out in an attempt to break the silence. 

“Uhm. I-.” He puts his hands in his pockets as if he was going to retrieve a lighter. Your malfunctioning brain persists though.

“Here, take it,” you grab one of the lighters with the generic dispensary logo on it, off the 

display on the counter and hand it to him. “It’s on the house,” you state as you see him start to shake his head, “we don’t make money on these anyway, so they always end up as overstock.”

His large palm nearly engulfs your hand as you drop the lighter into his hand. He looks up at you and gives you a boyish smile again.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, enjoy the pre rolls. If you need anything else, feel free to give us a visit again,” your customer service voice chimes in again as you flash him a warm smile. 

Trepidation sweeps across his face for a brief second before he nods and ducks his head, and as he walks out of the store. You check your phone, 4:56, thank God.

You head back into the storage room to grab your things and clock out, only to be met by your co-workers staring at you. Both with shit eating smirks on their faces.

“It’s on the house?” Josh repeats your earlier sentiment to you with a raised eyebrow. 

Rolling your eyes instantly, you sigh. “Josh, you and I both know those stupid lighters rarely ever sell out. Or sell, period. It’s not like the occasional few put a dent in the weekly revenue. Plus, there’s lots of other crap in here we sell with the store branding on it.”

He continues to look at you expectantly, his smirk growing bigger. 

“You gonna make me watch one of those ridiculous loss prevention videos from HR? Or can we let this go? C’mon it was the last customer of the day and we’re closed now.” You plead with him hoping he will drop it.

“If he wanted to cause you actual pain and suffering he would make you watch those HR videos again,” Stef quips cheekily. “We both wanna know why you wouldn’t just ask for that guy's number, it would have been a lot easier than committing theft as an employee.”

Your mouth gapes open as you look at her indignantly, then to Josh. Screw your best friend for knowing you all too fucking well. You couldn’t hide your poker face from her even if it was surgically constructed. 

“Why would I-” you begin your protest but Stef steam rolls over your words in her true form. 

“Oh, come ON, babe. I may only have eyes for women but I have to admit, he was fucking HOT and you know it. Those broad shoulders and puppy dog eyes? Probably one of the few attractive middle aged men I’ve seen come through here.” 

Josh wrinkles his face in disgust. “Seriously? The dude is probably pushing fifty. He looks like he’s never gotten high in his life seeing as how he was gawking at everything in the store. You included.”

Stef hums in agreement. “Fifty or not, he’s the hottest virgin stoner I’ve ever seen in my life. And I didn’t see a ring on his finger sooo…”

“Okay, that’s it,” you cut her off before she can blurt out any more incriminating things “Let’s implement a new rule, no BETTING on the customers, and no gossiping about how attractive they are.” You huff and grab your things, before dragging your friend towards the store exit. Josh follows in tow, locking up the entrance behind you all. 

“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” Josh mutters as he fixes you with a knowing look.

“I’m just saying,” Stef keeps going as you all walk towards the parking lot, “where else and when else are you going to meet someone with all the shit you have going on right now? Don’t you wanna get out there eventually?” 

She gives you a playful shove with a bit too much force behind it. “Don’t you at least wanna get laid again? Poor gal probably has cobwebs down there,” She throws out the crass remark nonchalantly as you sputter with your jaw dropped open. Luckily, she just narrowly avoids the slap you aim at her arm.

“Alright, and on THAT note, goodnight to you both. Get home safe.” Josh shakes his head as he gets into his car.

You turn and face Stef, letting out the deepest breath you’ve probably taken all day. 

She’s not wrong. It’s been well near a year since you split up with your ex.  Ever since you started school and got the part time job at One Plant, you really haven’t had time for anything else. Despite being best friends and living close by, you rarely saw Stef outside of your scheduled shifts together. Relegating yourself to the hermit life, you kept busy with studying, writing papers, going to class and showing up for your shifts at the dispensary. 

Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do after becoming single? Better yourself? Have new adventures? Or some shit like that.

Sure, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss being with someone. Miss the companionship. But dating in this day and age was fucking exhausting. Even though things between you and your ex ended amicably, you were still very much in your ‘men are trash era’ and the thought of going on dates and getting to know someone again nauseated you.

Annoyingly, Stef wasn’t wrong about the getting laid part. Nearly a year post breakup for a relationship that consumed 6 years of your life didn’t seem that long in the grand scheme of things. But being touch starved for nearly a year? That fucking sucked. And you wouldn’t deny missing the intimacy of cuddles, forehead kisses, and feeling close to someone. That and getting railed as if your life depended on it. Toys were nice and all but fuck you missed the feeling of having someone manhandle you, the feeling of someone giving you pleasure, winding you up. You just haven’t put your focus on that very stale and dry aspect of your life.

Stef gently grabs you by the shoulders, squeezing them. “Look, you know I love you hun, I just want you to be happy. That’s all. You gotta give it a chance again.” 

Her words pull you out of your dissociation and you blink hazily a few times. You shake your head briefly and pull her in for a hug. Stef may be too outspoken for her own good but she knew you inside and out. Ater becoming best friends in grade 7, you wouldn’t expect anything less from her. But you couldn’t lie that a part of you hated when she was right.

“I know you do, and I love you for it. Even though you’re a pain in my ass. Now get home safe.” 

She squeezes you at that and tells you to do the same, before you both go your separate ways.

Finally home, you trudged into your empty apartment, the weight of day’s work finally easing off your shoulders, as you kicked off your shoes and dumped your keys on the coffee table in the living room. As was your routine, you plopped down on the couch, reaching for your grinder and papers on the table, as you started to roll your joint, contemplating on what to have for dinner.

Still, the image of deep brown eyes, and that warm southern drawl ricocheted through your mind as you densely packed the grinded herb into the joint, folding the paper in on itself and twisting off the end.  He was just a customer. You saw hundreds of them a day, he was nothing new. As you lit up and inhaled deeply, you felt the warm, molasses-like haze seep through your bones, clouding over your thoughts, as you melted into the couch. He was just a customer. A handsome stranger. 

Despite the excuses you gave yourself, you couldn’t help but feel that wouldn’t be the last time you saw that man, or the virgin stoner, as Stef had so bluntly called him. At least you hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

TAGLIST:

@xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu, @morallyinept, @atinylittlepain, @amanitacowboy, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, @pr0ximamidnight, @wannab-urs, @beskarandblasters, @jksprincess10

[fishsticksloser]

Going a little overboard with a Peepaw Leo fic because... I mean... Look at him.

They had no business in making me simp so hard for a 40 year old 7'+ mutant turtle man. I'd let him do whatever he wants to me.

[stella-videntis]

Ooh, shit...Peepaw went into 'tranquil fury mode'.

Long story short: my long-time OC and young Leonardo gets caught by OMO in the kitchen having a moment of weakness and the two Leos have a talk...

So, I'm a huge lover of TMNT, anyways. It's my childhood and I'm usually in and out of the fandom. I recently just finished the ROTTMNT series, finally, and the movie itself really kicked me in the heart, to say the least. "Rise" has to be the only time where I love all four turtles, with Leo being my #1. Especially Future Leo (They had noooo right making him...ahem...the way he was at 40 years old).

And so, a friend of mine introduced me to some fun memes, fanfiction, etc. associated with the Rise Fandom, and the "Peepaw Leo" thing and the Cowboy AU are favorites of hers right now (and I happen to love westerns myself), and she practically info-dumped everything on me regarding them. Naturally, said friend introduced me to the Odd Man Out fanfic (she told me about others, such as MNMC, TAE, WMAS, etc, but she knows I don't wanna be too overwhelmed with too many fanfics because I won't remember all of them nor keep up with all of them). So far, I'm enjoying everything I'm seeing & reading. (Been seeing a looooot of good Donnie arts, too...)

She also introduced me to ai.chat some time ago, which I had NO idea existed. I was...very skeptical about it, but I decided to give it a try, since I do love RPing (I've been doing that since 2012). And what do you know, someone made a thing for OMO!Leo, which I found interesting. So, I've been doing the thing for a while, and things started to get juicy and heated (which led to the screenshots above). Either way, it's kinda fun to do in my spare time.

...I had plans of making my own kind of fanfic early this year, but I had to drop them, due to IRL issues, but...I think I may start again...

[slasherhoe87]

The Gift

Peepaw Michael Myers x GN Ghostface OC

MDNI

Warnings: Gore, Death, Murder etc

Note: Set during Halloween Kills - only difference is that the Johns do not live in Michael's childhood house. So all HK scenes in Michael's home plays out in another house owned by the Johns.

Blood soaked the ground of Haddonfield once more on this Halloween night.

It seeped into the asphalt of the roads, melted into the wood of aged floorboards, crept into the tiny crevices of tile and concrete, nourished the damp soil of the grass.

Michael stared down at the vacant eyes of his aggressors who littered the road around him - the ever hungry voices within his mind sated. Fat, full and quiet from the bountiful feast he had provided.

Fools the lot of them.

They should have known better.

Rage welled up within The Shape of Haddonfield knowing that he had only slaughtered one instigator of tonight's 'Kill Michael Club'.

Laurie Strode and her kin were still out there. Alive. Unacceptable.

Taking in a shaky and pain-filled breath, Michael took a wobbly step forward and gripped his knife tightly. The anger and frustration vibrating throughout his entire being.

Laurie still being alive was downright mockery at this point. How did she manage to evade death every time Michael finally had her in his clutches?

Michael grunted in both pain and frustration. Laurie can take a dive off a building, get hit by a car or eat his blade - he didn't care, he just wanted that bitch to stop breathing once and for all.

Well, if he couldn't end her ridiculous existence yet, he would hurt her so terribly that he'd break her spirit and heart, hopefully irreparably.

With a limp to his gait and wheezing breaths Michael stalked off towards the house where he had left Karen's daughter with a broken leg. Laurie Strode would die this night, not physically. But he would shatter her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Michael's eyes fluttered open. They felt heavy as if he had been drugged. He knew that feeling all too well after been locked up in an asylum for 40 years.

He looked around the room he was in, groggy and confused. He was in his parents' bedroom in his old house. The double bed he laid atop was dusty and moth eaten. The room was dark and smelled stale - it naturally would, after decades of decay and dormancy.

Had he dragged himself to his old home after killing Karen and Allyson? It concerned him that he couldn't remember.

Michael looked at the window which was slightly ajar, letting a breeze in to freshen and cool the room.

It was night - stars glittering and sky as inky black as ever. Yet when he stepped out of the house where Karen and Allyson's lifeless bodies lay the sky was tinged a pale orange and pink, indicating dawn was fast approaching.

Michael then noticed the next strange thing... his jumpsuit was pooled around his waist, his injuries bandaged and seen to. He looked to the old nightstand beside the bed and saw a glass of water and a bottle of Tramadol sitting there, along with a juice box, a store bought pre-packaged sandwich and a bag of mixed candies.

Now he knew why his injuries felt dulled, his head fuzzy and eyes heavy - he had been given pain medication.

Anger rose within him again. Who did this and why? And why couldn't he remember anything?

Who would want to aid the Boogeyman of Haddonfield? Curiosity swam around his mind as he sat up, wincing at the slight pull on a stitch from a particularly deep stab wound.

Hundreds of thoughts ran through Michael's mind as he reached for the candies.

Satisfaction was the leading feeling coursing through his veins. He had taken away the two most precious things in Laurie's life and for once, she could not stop it. Surely this would lead to her letting her guard down? Her motivation to carry on will have been quelled... perhaps she'd off herself and be done with it?

Michael would lay low for a while and then strike. He would not fail this time.

Just as Michael popped a candy corn into his mouth he heard a thud from downstairs which immediately caused him to stand and grab his knife which was also placed on the nightstand.

He perked his ears and tried to listen for any other sounds but all was quiet again - the house once again its ghostly self.

Slowly he crept out of his parents' bedroom and into the dark hallway. Seeing and hearing nothing out of the ordinary he made for the stairs intent on ending the life of whoever was in his home. He didn't care if it was his "savior", he didn't ask for or need any help and they would die just the same as all of his other victims.

As he stepped into the moonlit kitchen he spotted his mask, washed and sitting on the counter beside the sink. Michael made a beeline for his second skin. As he grabbed his mask and placed it over his head he let out a barely audible sigh of relief.

He had nearly lost his mask once already the previous night when Karen had stolen it and if it was truly lost to him he wasn't sure what he would do. The mask is as much a part of him as he is to it. Losing it would be losing a very substantial part of himself.

Something large and black catches his eye and he turns to face a body shaped thing in the middle of the kitchen floor wrapped in black giftwrap with red heart prints all over it. A big red bow sat atop its middle, practically begging to be undone.

Michael tilted his head to the side, studying the.... gift.

This must have been the thud he heard. Someone had deposited the body here and left as soon as it touched the floor.

He cautiously stepped forward and crouched down, sighing irritatedly at the popping sounds his aged knees produced.

Placing his knife beside him on the tiled floor he reached for the large obnoxious bow and began untying the ribbons. The more he handled the thing that was wrapped up the more he came to realize that yes, this was indeed an actual body.

Michael's body practically vibrated with curiosity and intrigue.

Clearly this was a gift for him. And again his mind ran with who and why.

With the bow and ribbons now off and chucked to the side he tentatively reached towards the clear strips of tape holding the giftwrap together along the center of the body and started ripping.

The first thing he saw was a blood soaked black blouse, a few buttons missing - having been ripped. Stab wounds gaped from the holes in the blouse and they looked very deep. The stabbings were clearly performed with a lot of force and emotion.

Michael began to pull the wrapping apart again higher towards the face and stopped dead in his ministrations as he came face to face with a now very dead Laurie Strode. His breath hitched and his eyes widened, he fell back onto his backside and took in deep labored breaths at the sight before him.

Thousands of thoughts and emotions ran through him like a freight train.

Laurie was dead.

Laurie Strode was dead.

Her lifeless eyes and bloodied and bruised face stared up at the kitchen ceiling and--- Michael did a double take... not eyes. Eye. He leaned forward and saw one eye was missing, entirely pulled out from its socket. He wondered if it was coincidence that it was her left eye that was missing - as she had damaged his own left eye so many years back.

Who had done this... for him. And why?

This person had succeeded where Michael had failed time and time again.

Michael didn't know whether to be impressed or pissed off.

He didn't care how Laurie died, he just wanted her gone. And now she was. But he had to admit he was ever so slightly peeved that he was not the one to witness the life being snuffed out of her eyes.

He rolled his shoulders and felt as though a weight had been lifted. The thorn in his side had finally been removed.

The woman with supernatural-like luck on her side was finally dead and soon to be buried.

For once in his life, Michael could say that he was feeling something pretty close to happy.

Before more thoughts pushed to the front of his mind the ringing of a phone rang out somewhere in the kitchen.

Swiftly standing, Michael spied a cellular phone lit up and buzzing on one of the counters in the kitchen.

He picked the black device up and squinted at the screen, just like with Karen's cellular phone when Laurie had called her after he had killed her, he didn't quite know how to use it. Did something as simple as a phone have to become so complicated?

Finally he managed to swipe the green button in the correct direction and brought the little piece of plastic hell to his mask covered ear. He didn't speak, but let his deep breathing indicate he was there and listening.

After a few beats of silence a distorted voice greeted Michael from the other end.

"Hello Michael"

Michael looked down at the gift that was Laurie's corpse before he focused back on the mysterious caller.

"Do you like my gift?" the distorted voice asked him in eager anticipation

With Michael feeling such elation at Laurie's death he decided to gift the killer on the other end of the line with using his voice. Something Michael had not done in years.

"Yes" came Michael's soft and raspy reply

The voice on the end's breath hitched and their breathing became noticeably heavier.

tap tap tap

Somewhat startled, Michael spun to face the direction the tapping had come from - the kitchen window.

"Boo!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hope ya'll like.

Part 2? Yes/No?

[nani-nonny]

Question but how would the team react to PAF f!leo and DisMir f!leo (leo in his 20s) in the group and what would they get named?

I can't stop thinking PAF would get called " Champion " or " worst/neglected dad " if he ever admitted of neglecting lou.

DisMir would probably be named " baby/child/kid " since he's the youngest 😂

I’m guessing Azulitos is the team? From I’m Blue?

Or the nonny peepaws in general, I assume

But I like where you’re headed >:)

DisMir is Bebé, and henceforth named the mascot of the peepaws (all coined by Old Timer because he thinks it’s funny that he’s viejo and DisMir is so young in comparison—a 40 year difference, I exaggerate it’s kind of 35 years give or take, I don’t like math)

(A)PAF wouldn’t get Champion because that’s unironically Barbarian’s (DMD) title, and kind of backup nickname. But he would jokingly say Lou’s Papa as his nickname, and the other Leos would tease him by calling him Papá.

But his legit nickname among the peepaws is Quarterback because (a)paf confessed early on how he got the key from the Foot lol (the peepaws think it’s a funny story, minus the infant endangerment)

[amevello-blue]

bro who is ghost? what is the backstory? is there a tag for it? i see all this peepaw propaganda and i still dunno what im lookin for lmao

Ghost is from "Ghost in the Shell", a fic I wrote! You can find the tag for it over on @bluepeachstudios, my art/writing account, it's #tmnt ghost in the shell

Ghost is 2003 Donatello from an episode called "Same as it Never Was", where canon '03 Donny appeared in an alternate dimension set in the future where SAINW Donny disappeared 30 years ago.

His absence caused an apocalypse through a series of domino effects. The Shredder now has complete control of the planet and likely the galaxy as well. Splinter and Casey are dead. Raph's missing an eye. Mikey's missing an arm. Leo and Raph haven't spoken in years and get into fights every time they do see each other.

Canon '03 Donny goes on to try and defeat the Shredder of that time, and he does. At the cost of the remaining turtle brothers. Raph, Leo and Mikey all die right in front of 16-year old canon '03 Donny.

Then he gets to go home.

Ghost is the Donny that disappeared in that universe. The apocalypse happens, and at 45 his brothers die to the Shredder.

But y'know, Ghost is only 40 right now. So we've got a few years. ;)

[ufonaut]

i feel like whenever i complain about fans viewing the jsaers exclusively as old men/fathers/grandfathers most people assume it’s me lashing out against my favourite characters ageing, which isn’t the case at all (there are in fact a startling number of characters i consider best written past their prime) and it’s in fact a matter of my sincere devotion to canon!

more often than not i see people who freely admit they’re not familiar with the source material very eagerly posting essay-length headcanons about the jsa being everybody’s beloved fathers/grandfathers (or god forbid using worse terms like ‘peepaw’ or whatever the hell) and how they shouldn’t be portrayed as conservative just because they’re old and posting art & designs of the gang looking 100+ years old and like... i don’t get it! i don’t get it at all! yes, there is a canon tendency for the elder statesman approach i’ve spoken about before but you have to understand that by and large the four remaining original members do not remotely look (or act) their age and the majority of the team as a whole did not have children until their 40s/50s at the very least and that’s being kind by keeping the original timeline. between their forced retirement at the hands of the house un-american activities committee and the years spent in ragnarok they’re also effectively outsiders in the (american govt-endorsed) superhero community. not to mention that grandfather thing also robs characters like alan of some of the most interesting arcs they’ve ever had, such as the fact that the starheart has rendered him ageless/most likely immortal and he spent a solid five years looking the same age as his early twenty-something children. and thats not even getting into literally everything else about their (often abrasive) individual personalities and how ridiculous it is that fans seem to think the role jay plays in modern flash content somehow should apply to everybody

[mushangaa]

Jus' fyi my F!Leo for my iteration ain't that old bc even tho there are many confusing conflicting dates in the wikis, my point is that the apocalypse in the rottmnt movie lasted around 20 years and if Leo is like what 14-15 at the beginning of that my man is in his 30s. That ain't old. I promise u that ain't old. I am in my 30s and people frequently mistake me still for someone closer to early 20s or on funky occasions want to still check my ID when I buy stuff that you need to be at least 18 years old in order to buy it so like... my god I always assumed that guy is like... idk late 40s or something but nah.

So uh nah my mans is at least in my head in his 30s and not even the late ones he is still bloody young omfg. (Tho the teenagers might refer to him as peepaw anyway because they are little shits and I remember myself that at age 13 I thought mid twenties are adult adults too until I became 20 myself and realized I am baby and then crawled towards my 30s and could not comprehend how my parents were like 22 years old when they had me like what the fuck they were so bloody young ahhh anyway...)

Ah yeah and before someones comes at me from the trauma and stress aging angle.. yeah that can make you age faster, of course, but it does not have to. Of course I am basing this on my own experiences with loss 'n grief the whole comic will be heavily based on those topics so like.. yah F Leo ain't that old. He just tired and carries a lotta baggage. If anything his eyebags sometimes are older than him but that's about it. Anyway TL:DR - F!Leo is a young dude if ya ask me, at least for my comic I will not draw him looking very old or anything my guy is not even close to his 40s.

[bearsbeetsbeskar]

Somebody to Heal, Somebody to Hold

(Joel Miller x dispensary! reader)

Chapter 3: Blue Dream

Chapter 1 here || Chapter 2 here || Main masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x dispensary! reader, AU (no outbreak) Word count: 4.7K Rating: 18+ MDNI, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut), swearing, discussions of drug use, discussions of disordered eating, age gap (reader is early 20s and Joel is late 40s) Summary: Joel can't rely on pills anymore for his back pain, so his doctor prescribes him medicinal marijuana. But he's not happy about it.

A/N: It's here y'all! Peepaw got high, and now he has the munchies. For food, as well as for the reader 🌚. This chapter was so fun to write, I loved fleshing out their progressing relationship. PEEPAW gets teased endlessly for being old (I couldn't resist), and he gains a smoking buddy 🥹. As always, thank you to my main hype woman, my ride or RIDE, @iamasaddie for beta'ing. Your excitement and support means the world to me!

Please comment and reblog if you liked it and want to see more of this series! I'm so in awe and appreciative of all the lovely comments and support I've received so far, you guys keep this story going!

❤️ 🌹 - N

In the midst of smoking with Joel, you had forgotten how long it had been since you last ate. The rumbles coming from his stomach reminded you pretty quickly though. You hum and chew the inside of your cheek as you think of possible food options to satisfy the munchies.

Although pretty much anything tastes better when you’re high, thanks to the way that THC heightens your senses, especially taste, you want to get something he will like. You’re not sure why you care so much but you want him to enjoy it, as part of his first smoking experience. 

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you start to scroll through UberEats to see what’s in the area. 

“Feel like eating anything in particular?”

Joel purses his lips together and hums. “Not really, I ain’t picky.”

You’re inclined to believe him but you still wanna mess with him, just a little bit.

“Ouh, there’s this really good vegan place in town that has good reviews and lot’s of options!” You look at him sideways and raise your eyebrows. 

“Uh,” He grimaces slightly before he can school his expression, “sure that sounds-” 

“I’m just fucking with you Joel” You lean in to shove him again as giggles start bubbling up from your chest. “I’d never eat that shit either, I love real food and meat too much to give it up”

“Thank fucking God,” he breathes out and runs a hand over his face. “I can’t stand it, everything is vegan this, vegan that. What happened to normal real food?”

You snort in response, still scrolling. And then something catches your eye.

“Oh shit! Apparently there’s a food truck festival happening at Bellwoods Park, just a couple minutes from here. There’s lots of different vendors, and it’s probably a lot cheaper than ordering take out. We’ll have to walk over but it’s not too far”

“Yeah, I’m up for that.” He perks up a bit and smiles at you.

No less than 20 minutes later you and Joel arrive at the food truck festival. You’re immediately surprised by how cozy and ambient it is. There’s numerous picnic benches in the middle of the grassy area and a few carnival games on the far end of the field for the kids. Twinkle lights are strung like a canopy over the entirety of the park, casting a molten amber glow over the festivities, complementing the warm hues of paper bunting strung from vendor truck to truck. People flock to the vendor trucks flanking the outside of the park perimeter. The smell of various fried foods and grills being fired up has your mouth watering and stomach growling again.

“Huh.” Joel whistled lowly, taking in the surroundings. “Been here for almost 20 years and I didn’t know this existed.”

“It looks like a seasonal thing that the city puts on every year, maybe there’s just more hype around it this year.” You surmise, following his gaze and looking around. “That or you just live under a rock.” A smirk sprawls across your face as you look back at him. 

He huffs out an exhale. “Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that.”

“Well, now’s your chance to explore,” gesturing to the lineup of trucks. The various vendors sell everything from shaved ice to burritos, to Korean bbq and Philly cheesesteak sandwiches. The options are endless. You’re about to suggest something to him when one truck in particular catches your eyes. 

“Oh my god, Smashburgers!” You make a beeline for the food truck, not even waiting to see if Joel follows you. The smell of charbroiled meat and greasy french fries fill your nostrils, creating another twinge of hunger in your stomach. It’s been ages since you had a good burger, and Rick’s Smashburgers was the best in town, you weren’t about to pass it up now. Sensing Joel’s broad presence approach your right side before you can turn around, you nod your head towards the menu plastered on the chalkboard against the side of the truck.

“Ricks has the best burgers in town by far. Trust me.” 

“Smashburgers? How are they any different from regular hamburgers?”

“They’re just better in general” you answer him as if it was obvious. He raises an eyebrow at you. “The patties are basically flattened or smashed and it makes them crispier and just better overall. Trust me.” Giving him your most pleading look, he sighs and looks at the menu, and then at the plates of burgers lined up at the window to be given to customers.

“They do look pretty damn good. Only-” he shifts his jaw and hesitates, “my doctor told me to stay away from red meat, and eat more veggies,” he grumbles defeatedly, staring at the menu like he wanted to burn a hole in it. 

You frown for a split second but it slowly morphs into a smile. Joel Miller is cute when he is grumpy. And for whatever reason, it actually warms your heart that he’s trying to be compliant with his doctor's orders. Still, you nod.

“Okay, well, we could always get something else. Althoughhhh” you pause for dramatic effect, “technically the burgers are thinner than regular burgers so there is less meat, and there’s lettuce and tomatoes on the burger.” You look sideways at him but he’s already shaking his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Who woulda thought I’d experience more peer pressure for eatin’ a burger than smokin’ weed. Jesus, I’m losin’ it.” The smile turns into a grin and there’s a glimmer in his eyes. 

“Sure darlin’, a smashburger sounds good.” 

—---------------------------------------------------------

If anyone had told Joel that in his lifetime he would eventually find himself at a festival surrounded by throngs of people, after smoking weed for the first time, with a woman he had just met, he would have told them to fuck right off. 

All because of his back pain. His godforsaken back pain. 

Admittedly, he had no idea what to expect when you said you would come over to show him how to smoke, but he definitely said a silent prayer when you offered, seeming to understand that the whole situation was embarrassing for him. You were so nice and personable. Just like you had been the day before when he came into the dispensary like a lost puppy.

The irrational part of him wanted to believe that you were just pitying him. Pitying a helpless middle aged man who’s geriatric aches and pains were running him into the ground. But your patience with him and calm reassurance about his concerns dismantled that theory. That, and the fact that you offered to come over after you got off work, during your free time. It didn’t seem like you were getting commission from going above and beyond with your customer service skills at the dispensary. What business would you have hanging out with a man who was at least two decades older than you?

Joel wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t blind to your beauty. Despite the playful banter you shared with him, and your wandering gaze that he caught dipping down to his lips and his body, he knew that he wouldn’t have a shot in hell with you. Regardless, he was buzzing with nervous energy when you knocked on his door.

Surprisingly, the actual smoking wasn’t as bad as he anticipated. Marijuana smoke tasted somewhat better than cigarette smoke. Weird, but better. The tang of the herb settled on his taste buds more easily than nicotine did during that one time he tried it all those years ago. 

It was actually enjoyable if he was being honest with himself. Although, he’s not sure if that’s because of your added presence or the weed actually doing its job. The monotony of inhaling and pulling from the joint, holding his breath for a few seconds and then exhaling slowly became muscle memory. The THC settled into his bloodstream as he felt the mellow warm buzz permeate his body and seep into his bones. The once aching flare of pain that was his constant companion no longer reared its ugly head, as he stretched beside you on the couch.  He genuinely couldn't believe it. 

He anticipated he would cough up a lung at one point or another, which he did. And he anticipated the back pain would be subdued, which it was. You also warned him of dry eyes and cotton mouth once the marijuana took effect in his system. Nevertheless, he’s caught off guard when his mouth goes bone dry and his eyes glaze over as he watches you do that trick. 

The french inhale. 

Seemingly mesmerized by the way the smoke pours out of your lips like viscous liquid, and the way you inhale it through your nose again, he all but loses it when you show him how to do the smoke rings. The way your plush lips pout, forming an O shape as you push the smoke out of your mouth, your cheeks slightly hollowed. You’re so close beside him that he can faintly smell the tropical notes of your shampoo and see the glassiness in your doe eyes when you smile at him. 

It’s the cruelest form of torture, he surmises. You're the sweetest siren, making the simplest gesture look sexy as hell. 

Caveman brain bouncing off the walls as he flexes his thighs, his left hand remains in his lap over his crotch while he curls his right hand into a fist. The sting of his nails digging into his palms keeps him tethered to reality, while he tries to ignore how tight the crotch of his pants are. 

But fuck, it’s a challenge when you keep looking at him like that, with a Cheshire cat grin plastered across your face.

His lust is interrupted soon enough when he feels his stomach let out the loudest rumble. And to his surprise your smile only gets wider in response.

It’s almost the same smile he’s witnessing in this moment, as he watches you take another big bite out of your burger and moan, almost pornographically. 

You both get burgers and decide to split some french fries for good measure. Nevermind the fact that you asserted, "a good burger isn't complete without a side of fries."

Trusting your judgment, Joel orders the same as you; a smashburger with crispy onions, lettuce, tomato, cheese and their special house BBQ sauce. Only no pickles for him, and extra bacon, cause why the fuck not?

Technically he’s following the doctor's orders. He’s already smoked the weed. The low cholesterol diet can start tomorrow.  

The burger is delicious. Like ridiculously delicious. 

“Damn” He says in between the first couple bites, “this is fucking good. Best burger I’ve had in a while actually.” Humming in agreement, you pop a couple fries in your mouth.

“I know right? I told you. Better than regular burgers.” 

They’re messy as hell but it’s worth it the minute the flavor of charred meat hits his tongue, the crispiness of the onions, coupled with the special sauce creating a mouthwatering combo.

You finish your burger at an alarming pace. Popping the last bite into your mouth, you grab a handful more of fries, dunking them into some ketchup. 

Christ, he thought he was hungry. You must have been starving considering it had been well over 5 hours since your lunch break. Before you can shove the fries in your mouth, you pause and raise your eyebrows at his ogling.

“What?”

“Nothing.” When you look at him expectantly he shakes his head. That small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just surprised you have a big appetite, s’all.”

Somewhat bemused by his words, you tilt your head. 

“Most women I know, they just eat salads and healthy crap. Always watching their weight and being picky with their food.” He smirks, nodding his chin towards your plate. “It’s just nice to see a woman who can actually throw down.”

Shaking your head, you snort. “Please, life is too fucking short to deprive yourself and worry about the shit you eat. I’d rather die with a full belly of food that I enjoy than eat like a rabbit.” 

At that he lets out a loud guffaw. Not only do you have a decent appetite but you also got quite the potty mouth on you. He shouldn’t find that so attractive but he does. 

“Also,” you flippantly wave a fry around in your hand, gesturing to the near empty tray of food sitting on the table between you two, “who wouldn’t want to eat when the food is this fucking good?” 

Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he rolls his shoulders back and reclines in his seat with a wink. “Can’t argue with that logic darlin’.”

Over the next hour or so, you get to know bits and pieces about each other while picking at the remainder of fries.  Bouncing between topics, from food to work, to each other’s personal histories. Joel learns that your favorite food is pasta, grinning at you while you go off on a tangent about how pasta should be included as one of the main food groups. Doesn’t matter what kind of pasta, just pasta. 

His favorite meal is anything home cooked and southern. Of course, nothing beats a good old sirloin steak with roasted potatoes. He’s a sucker for cornbread too. Sweet desserts are his weakness he reveals, but he never usually gets them for himself, only bringing home treats when he knows his daughter Sarah will be in town. When Sarah isn’t home he’s usually at the mercy of fast food joints due to his work hours, “hence the high cholesterol,” he grumbles. 

That leads him to tell you about Sarah, how long he’s been in Austin, his job as a contractor. In return you tell him about going back to school and getting the dispensary job through Stef, just to have some money on the side. 

“I needed to throw myself into something after my ex and I broke up.” You sigh defeatedly and cross your arms, elbows resting on the table as you look down. “Naturally, I figured going back to school and getting a job would be the solution, only now it feels like I’m barely keeping my head above water.”

At that confession, Joel raises his eyebrows in disbelief. Guilt and shame wash over your features.  It makes him frown, his eyebrows pinching together. Sadness isn’t a good look on you, and even though he’s known you for less than a day, he doesn’t like seeing that look cloud your face. 

“Fuck him,” he quips, “his loss.”

Huffing out an exhale, you fiddle with a crumpled napkin on your side of the tray. Ripping up small bits of the crinkled paper and rolling them between your fingers. “You don’t know the whole story.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Doesn’t matter, still sounds like he lost out.”

When you don’t look up at him, just continuing to rip up the napkin, biting the inside of your cheek, his voice softens.

“Sorry. It’s none of my business,” he backtracks, “you don’t have to tell me.”

At that you finally look up at him, “no, it’s okay Joel. Really. It’s been a while since we split.”

He nods slowly, waiting for you to continue.

“In the end we both wanted different things. He was ready to settle down, get married, buy a house, and start popping out kids. It took me a while to realize that that was far from what I wanted.” You stare off to the side, watching the kids at the far end of the field run throughout the maze of festival games. 

“I guess you could say we split amicably, but we were together for a long time," you continue on. "When it was over he didn’t hesitate to tell me that I would never find someone like him, that I’ll never find someone who would love me as much as he did, and how he did so much for me, blah blah blah. That kinda bullshit” You chuckle hollowly, folding your arms across your chest. 

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes again, silently cursing at the asshole who managed to convince you that you wouldn’t find someone better. 

Wishful thinking claws at his chest as he swallows. He knows he probably wouldn’t be that much better for you either. You’re warm, caring, funny, gorgeous with a sharp wit that he finds painfully endearing. Who wouldn’t want you?

He swallows before he speaks up again. “It happens that sometimes people grow apart, realize they have different values and want different things. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. It hurts but better you figure it out now rather than later. I learned that the hard way,” he says with a regretful smile. 

You shake your head, giving him an out before he says anything else. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Nah, it was a while ago. A long time ago. My ex and I, we had Sarah when we were real young.” He chuckles without any mirth. “Young and dumb. We had no idea what we were doing, but we both knew deep down it wouldn’t work. I was working ridiculous hours to make ends meet for us and she wasn't happy about that. We realized how different we truly were and figured it was for the best that we split.” 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” There’s concern in your eyes but you give him an empathetic smile. “But in the end, you got Sarah, right?”

Exhaling deeply, he nods and smiles softly. “Yeah. Thank God. She’s my whole life honestly. Gives me a reason to get up in the morning. She’s crazy smart, sometimes too smart for own good, but she has a heart of gold. Always wanting to help out others.”

He stares off into space, recalling his daughter's bright eyes, halo of curls, and her wide grin. God he missed her.  It’s only as he’s telling you this does Joel realize that he doesn’t really have a life outside of Sarah. She’s not at the age anymore where she needs constant care, she’s independent and living away from home. The only people he really sees regularly are Tommy, when he deigns to drop by the house, or when they work jobs together, and the guys on his team. But outside of work? He doesn’t really do much of anything or see much of anyone. It dawns on him that he leads quite the obstinate life.

“You mentioned she’s away at college?” Your question pulling him out of his placating thoughts.

“Yeah, she started last semester. She comes home when she has breaks and during holidays. It’s quiet without her around.” He isn't aware of the somber look that washes over his face, but you quickly pick up on it.

“I’m sure she misses you just as much.” You look at him earnestly and give him a small smile. 

He scoffs, “yeah right,” leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s living that freshman life. Classes, studying, partying,” he adds the last part hesitantly, with a bit of a bite. “She ain’t thinking about her old man too much.” 

Clicking your tongue, you give him a reprimanding look. “You keep saying you're old Joel but that’s a fat lie.”

He goes to interrupt you but you hold your hand up in front him. “I saw your driver's license back at the dispensary Joel. You’re not old. Just because you’re over 40, doesn’t mean you’re a fucking fossil. C’mon.” 

Seemingly accepting that he won’t be able to win this argument with you, he huffs and smirks, his arms still crossed over his chest.

“Whatever you say darlin’”

At that, you bite your lip and look down. The small terms of endearment fluster you. He likes seeing you flustered.

You pull your phone out of your pocket to check the time, and he feels himself deflate at the notion that you would have to go and that this night would come to a close. He hopes that you won’t tell him that you have to go. Already anticipating that disappointment he clears his throat and starts to stack the garbage on top of your tray.

“I’m pretty stuffed after the burger. Wanna walk around for a bit? See what else is around here.” You bite your lip, gauging his response.

Trying not to sound overly eager and excited, he smiles. “Yeah alright.”

No less than 30 minutes later, he finds himself strolling beside you around the perimeter of the festival lawn, a cup of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream in his left hand, while you both take turns scooping spoonfuls. 

The tips of his fingers prickle from holding the frigid paper cup as he hums around another spoonful. “Chocolate chip cookie dough is okay, but I still think maple pecan is better,” he grumbles.

You groan. “Ugh, I’m not getting into this again Joel,” glaring at him out of the corner of your eye as you lick the back of your spoon. “I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt with the whole old man thing but maple pecan is an old man flavor. Sorry not sorry. You might as well suck on a Werther’s candy”

“Jesus,” he scoffs. “A Werther’s original? Why don’t I just put on some suspenders, get some bifocals, and sit in the park with the paper every morning.”

“Mmm, you never know. I think bifocals would really suit you,” Your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek. Giggles bubbling up in your chest, while Joel shakes his head.

“I’m just saying, even plain vanilla would have been a better choice. A redeemable choice. Maple pecan is almost as bad as..” you wrinkle your nose while thinking of a comparison, “rum and raisin.”

Just as you go to scoop another spoonful out of the cup, Joel stretches his left arm up and back behind him, holding the cup out of your reach. You don’t bother to jump up to reach the cup as He shamelessly enjoys the sight of how he dwarfs over your tiny frame. 

“Hey! Joel-” 

He says your name in return solemnly, but the corners of his mouth curl upwards ever so slightly. “You take that back right now. That’s a classic.”

“It has raisins in it! You can’t be serious! Dried up grapes have no business being in ice cream man, it’s criminal.”  You huff out a breath and look up at him in exasperation. 

“Didn’t know you were so passionate about ice cream.” He has a shit eating grin on his face at this point. Completely enamored by how cute you are when you’re annoyed. He can’t help but tease you a bit more. 

“You know I was havin’ a real good time tonight darlin’ but that’s my last straw.”  

Rolling your eyes, you smirk. “Just like that huh? You’re stone cold Joel Miller. Alright then, but good luck finding another smoking buddy who can teach you really cool tricks”

At that, he relents. Dropping his arm back down to his side. 

“Smoking buddy?”

You’d want to smoke with him again?

The term you coined has his mind melting into mush, and his stomach doing flips at the possibility of seeing you again. 

“You’d wanna do this again? I mean- you'd want to smoke together?” He asks pensively, his amber eyes rounded as he looks down at you.

“Yeah,” you peek up at him through your lashes. “Why not? I’m always down to smoke. Plus I still gotta teach you how to roll your own joints, and maybe how to do some tricks as well.”

Winking at him you add on, “save you some money so that you don’t have to keep coming to the dispensary for your pre rolls.”

He presses his lips into a thin line before he can spit out the Pavlovian response on the tip of his tongue. Joel knows he would have come to the dispensary anyway to see you, regardless of if he was going to buy anymore weed. Hell, he would use any excuse he could to see you again. But he decides against telling you that.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, and licking his lips, his mouth opens slightly as his gaze dances across your face. From your eyes, down to your lips, and back up again. You’re so close. So close he could reach out, curl a finger into one of your belt loops, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush. 

“I’d really like that darlin’”

You tilt your head and gaze up at him. “Good.” You glance briefly at your phone and frown. “I do have to go now though. I’m opening at the dispensary tomorrow so I should get some sleep. As should you,” you give him another playful shove, “old man.”

He grumbles in response.

You exchange numbers before heading your separate ways, sending him off with a warm smile. The same smile you greeted him with when he first stepped into the dispensary and nearly had a panic attack. “This was fun Joel. Text me next time you wanna smoke.”

Pausing for sec and squinting your eyes in mock concern, you ask him “Wait, you do know how to text right?” 

You attempt to bite back a laugh with no success as he swats at you like a fly, and you jump backwards, dodging the swipe of his big hands. “Yes little miss, I know how to fuckin' text.” He makes a noise of disapproval and narrows his eyes at you. "Cheeky." 

You’ve only known him for less than 24 hours and you already know how to push his buttons. 

Though he's not really annoyed in the slightest. He allows it. What's more is that he actually likes it. Really likes it. The playful banter and flirting that you throw his way, he’s more than happy to return it. 

Your chuckles die down. “Alright alright, just checking, relax.”

You send him a quick text with your name, and his phone pinging right away. 

“I’ll see you around Joel.”

“See ya around darlin’” He drawls with a grin as he watches you turn to leave.

There’s a pep in Joel’s step as he walks back home. Contentment mixed with anxious excitement. The effects of the high have faded quite a bit, and his head clears as he continues down the sidewalk to his house. He’s pretty happy. Unreasonably happy for someone who just spent the evening with a woman he barely knows. But he felt like he got a deeper glimpse into who you are. What’s more surprising is that he wants to know more. He wants to know more about you. Wants to do more things with you.

Do more things to you.

But again, he keeps that to himself for fear of ruining whatever is slowly building between you two.

Trudging up the porch stairs, he glances at his watch.

10:02 p.m.

He considers texting you to see if you got home safe. 

No. He didn’t need you thinking he was a desperate creep. As he crosses the threshold and closes the door behind him, he leans back against it, his head thudding against the wood. 

Just then, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, the familiar ping sound resounding through the empty front hallway of his house.

[You]: “Hey! Just wanted to make sure you got in okay, seeing as it’s much past your bedtime 👴🏼”

Huffing out a chuckle, he rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the flutter in his chest that you texted him first. His fingers fumble as he squints at the screen to type out a response. 

[Joel]: “Could say the same for you. What happened to getting sleep because you work early tomorrow?” 

He could leave it there and just see what you say. But the excitement from the evening as well as simmering current of lust running through his body has him feeling bold. He wants to push a little bit more.

[Joel]: “Naughty girl.” He bites his lip before hitting send.

The three little dots appear and reappear a handful of times as you start to type and then stop.

Shit. Was that too far? Did he just fuck up any chance he had at seeing you again because he has no self control? Probably. It was so hard to restrain any sort of control when you made it so easy to tease back. Your playfulness and doe eyes are a wicked force to be reckoned with, and it only made Joel want you more. 

Waiting for you to text him back and tell him to fuck off, or politely shut it down, his mouth gapes open when you do finally respond. 

[You]: “Never said I was a good girl 👀”

He exhales harshly. “Fucking hell.” His fingers tapping furiously as he sends the next message.

[Joel]: “That so? I don’t believe that. You’ll have to prove me wrong next time darlin.”

Your response comes lightning fast. Nothing else aside from a series of suggestive emoji's.

[You]: Goodnight Joel 😈 🍃 🔥 💨

Joel clenches his jaw and exhales deeply. He shoves his phone back in his coat pocket, and rubs his hand over his face.

What has he gotten himself into?

[silverfirewolfsurtleaus]

Was dipping my nose into the peepaw muktiverse tag when this thought popped into my head about fangs and future leo

If he were to meet a future leo from Casey Jrs time line he would most certainly lose in a fight,be it a spar or a serious fight, and heres why

Despite him being a 614 year old vampire with 500 years mimimum of experance he is physically and somewhat mentally stuck at 16

If you somehow give his mind something to latch onto besides the fight he becomes easily distracted (is trying to shake this admidedly its not going well)

Hes smaller and more grabbale than a mimimum of 40 year old war veteran and more throwable too

The older leo would know most the tricks he uses, and adapt to any of the new ones he gained far easier than most people

Then theres the fact he has two dibilitating physical scars if people notice them in some way, which an oldet version of him whos partly servived by exploiting weaknesses likely WILL NOTICE

His shell still has the cracks that were only heald just enough before he got turned and makes his shell weaker. Hebwoukd noticibly be garding that and if its hit har enough one of the cracks at least will break open.

Then theres the spot on his leg that got holy water dumped on it. If that scar is grasped in a fight IT WILL HURT and the signs of it visibly affecting him will be noticible. How depends on how hard its grabbed. Ranging from a short gasp to screaming in pain.

Among other things the best my vampire boy could hope for is a draw

[beef-strokinoff]

erik is a 40 or 50 something year old kissless virgin who has never had a normal social interaction in his whole life his only real social skills are 1) hide from ppl 2) trick ppl into thinking he's a ghost/angel 3) murder ppl thats it those are his only means of getting what he wants from people the only relationships he has that come even a little bit close to normal is with madame giry and the persian and even then he still lies to them so with all this in mind it's obvious that he's completely inexperienced and unequipped to navigate a romantic and/or sexual relationship which means he has neither the charisma nor the confidence to be seductive and sexy thats why in order to get a girl to talk to him he decided to pretend to be a supernatural being instead of just being himself and when he does start being himself things go downhill instantly because as an angel he had power over christine and his interactions with her plus it allowed him to keep a (metaphorical and literal) wall between them to protect himself but as just a guy he's much more vulnerable and he is absolutely not emotionally mature enough to deal with being in a position where he has to talk to her and be in the same room with her as an equal which is why he tries to control her throughout the book through force (kidnapping her, threatening to kill everyone including himself if she doesn't become his waifu, etc) maybe if he had just been normal and brought her flowers or something after a performance and went from there things could've worked out better between them but the other thing is that she's like 20 something, he's old enough to be her father which on it's own isn't great but even if everything went exactly how he wanted and she married him in like. 10.. 20, maybe 30 years she'd have to dump his ass into a retirement home but also in the meantime sex could be a problem because my man is not only middle aged and a virgin he's also been living in a cellar for ??? years so you know he's gotta be physically as well as mentally unwell by now how likely is it that peepaw can keep up with someone in their 20s he doesn't seem very sexually motivated in the book like he was fully prepared to never take his mask off around christine until she yoinked it so i doubt he would've dropped his pants like any kind of physical intimacy just never seemed to occur to him until the very end and all that was was the most chaste kiss imaginable and even with that he was super timid about it erik did you really think you could just do card tricks and play music all day for your wife and she would be happy about it??? you didn't think that if you managed to get a wife that she might want you to fuck her??? if you don't have low self esteem now you definitely will when you realize her recovery time is 10 minutes and yours is.. much much longer and given how good he is at dealing with people and his own emotions (sarcasm) it would definitely become an issue i'm mostly talking about leroux erik here but i think some of this still applies to the younger and hotter alw erik like if u think that he's a sexy dude you've fallen for the front he puts up anyway all this is to say that i think the thing where christine is soo horny about him that she runs back and has wild nasty sex with him at the last minute sucks like if ur gonna do that with your adaptation at least do what susan kay did and have him die afterwards (death by pussy is funny)

idk i just think the reason erik is sexy is not because he is sexy. its because when you peel back the paper thin and incredibly performative veneer of sexiness he puts up you see that he's actually the most pathetic and irritating lil guy you'll ever meet underneath. and i think thats special. smiles

[oatzimir-archive]

sum ppl said that they want to hear my hcs abt octonauts so here u go

(btw these r polar bears hcs y'know from the arctic adventure ep )

-old old man i enjoy him, i love him even. hes probably around his early 60s or so.

-he screams grandpa... just how he looks and sounds, hes peepaw

-i really want to give him a name instead of Norwegian bear

-thought about it, his new name is Bjarne. which means fuckin "bear" in norwegian

-i can tell that he really likes warm/hot drinks

-he also loves really cold drinks because fuck you/j

-his paws must be really cold, touch his hands and you will freeze instantly /j

-mf has really bad back posture

-i really cannot explain why but he screams dad energy and he was trying to get to the sea ice n try to get food for his family

-hes probably around 30 or 40 years old

-i gave him the name bernard btw

-eats ice as a dessert

-he always thinks of the worst will happen but literally nothing bad happens

-he maybe likes keeping his things nice and tidy, including his fur. its literally so smooth and soft

- i kinda wanna marry him (platonicly)

-i love this guy so much, not because im canadian- actually yes it is because im canadian

-hes maybe in his mid 20s

-he has no name yet bc im dummy

-he definitely eats melted butter off a stick

-hes probably the type of bear to point at a couple of moose and say 'meese'

-just by his US voice alone- hes definitely just a very chill and relaxed guy

-i love his little hair style,,, do you think he likes rock music

-I LOVE HER SO MUCH shes so pretty oh my gosh, i will give her kisses and hugs wewe <3333

-shes maybe in her late 20s

-i named her polina/Полина,,,

-she would drink hot coco/hot tea while eating ice cubes

-she also seems like a mom to be,, just, idk, she would probably hold me like a baby. honestly she'd look like she would baby everyone

-she can and will adopt you

-obviously a mom friend