#Dive Bar Foods

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

SWEET HOME CHICAGO, BABY! -- 🌭😋🌭

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on Chicago-style hot dogs made specially with Vienna® Beef Polish Sausages. 📸: Tiny's Hi-Dive (dive bar in Los Angeles, CA, on Pico Blvd.).

Source: https://m.facebook.com/photo.php/?photo_id=725792799590846&set.

[gleafer]

Crowley has cracked the code of appeasing his crabby angel after a spat: DIVE BAR NACHOS and a certain black sweater.

[fieriframes]

[You are not here.]

[fullmetalwindbreaker]

surprise 4/20 dinner special

[piplupod]

really wish she would just hit us. we can block out physical pain, we can block out hunger, we can also block out exhaustion to a certain degree. but the mind games cannot be escaped, unless we are fully dissociating and that cannot happen often enough for this to be bearable, it is not safe, it is not realistic. it cannot be kept up long-term.

the bullshit she is pulling is so fucking dangerous and I want to say Juno's just being a pussy about it but jesus christ even I can see and have to admit how fucked up this all is. it's inescapable. it's not something you can just cope with, not for long, not like this. i can handle a lot of shit but this is pushing past even my limits.

and that makes me wonder, if I can't deal with it, who will be able to? what kind of person would be able to handle this mountain of mind fuckery? that kind of person should not exist, and I can only hope they do not show up one day, or we'll all (the system and body) be so unbelievably fucked.

[cosmererambles]

Imagine: Adolin, Shallan, and Kaladin going out to eat, unable to decide where to go. The men get into a heated argument, and Shallan, sheltered from childhood, recognizes a chain she loved as a kid. “Oh, you guys!” She tugs on Adolins arm. “Lets go to Olive Garden!” They both stare in abject horror.

@cosmereplay

[katherinespiers]

Where to Eat This Weekend. 

[direwombat]

🍕my muse's favorite foods for sybille la roux (as requested by @afarcry5fromstraight)

most of sybille's favorite foods are ones that her maman used to make: red beans and rice, fried okra, and beignets in particular. fish and chips was her standard order at most restaurants, and she always looked forward to the community crawfish boils! hummingbird cake was the special treat on her birthdays growing up, and while she'll never turn down a mint julep during the summer, whiskey is something she'll drink year-round.

[thesundanceghost]

Where’s that bojack horseman quote that’s like “you’re not good enough at this job to be too good for this job” that’s me at all my coworkers at this location

[emo-and-emo-adjacent]

Oh god you're not waking up Please wake up Oh my love Wake up

[itzheinzbeanz]

[we-re-always-alright]

in this Greek wedding I’m in this weekend, I finally met this other bridesmaid and turns out her family and my dad’s side of the family grew up in like the same 5 block radius and so all we did was talk about hyper specific Chicago things (while texting our dad’s who both said ‘that name sounds familiar’)

[artdcnaldson]

okay but PLEASE elaborate on Olympics!Art AU

TeeHee

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v), feral obsessive behavior, infidelity

A/N: And you would do it too, that’s all I’m saying. Also IMPORTANT note: I love Tashi, she is a mother to many. However this fic has a very obsessive reader who just wants to fuck a married man, at Tashi’s expense

Maybe you were a bad person.

You’d met Art and Tashi Donaldson before— a year back at an event held for Tennis’ rising stars. That was you, some other guys who had done well in the Juniors, a girl from an Ivy League, and more people that fell into the blind spots of your interest..

You must’ve looked so sweet in your formalwear, approaching the couple with shaking hands so you could say just how big of a fan you were. You had no ill intent then, not when you were face to face with two people you’d idolized since you were twelve and watching the Junior US Open. That night you’d taken a deep breath as you stared at the ceiling of your home, feeling like you’d made it.

Sure, Art was handsome, and you’d lived the past decade harboring a massive celebrity crush on him, but he was married, he was untouchable. Art Donaldson oozed that sweet, devoted husband shtick. Anniversary posts, birthday posts, Valentine’s Day posts, Mother’s Day posts. He had a daughter, he posted about how much he loved being a dad.

You were fine accepting that your fantasies of fucking Art Donaldson were strictly fantasies. But that was before you qualified and had to see him every fucking day.

Art Donaldson, who held open doors for you, who talked to you casually, like he might an old friend. Art, who stood in the long line in the food court with you, ate something he probably shouldn’t have, and asked that you don’t tell Tashi.

And you’d smile conspiratorially, and assure him his secret was safe with you. The implication being that you’d keep that secret, and more. As many as he’d ask you to, really.

You’d see him on a practice court, running drills with his wife, and feel the heat of jealousy in the pit of your stomach. You’d turn away, focus on your own game, practice until your hands were aching and sore.

“Where’s Mrs. Donaldson?” You asked one night after you’d been sexiled and had to sit out in the hallway waiting for your roommate to finish up. Art leaned against the wall, standing tall above you, so you had to crane your neck. You liked that point of view, on your knees looking up at him, you wondered if he liked it too.

“Oh, she’s staying in a very nice, very expensive hotel room with our daughter right now,” he said with a grin. “As soon as my events are done, that’s where I’ll be too.”

“Oh,” you said, bringing an easy smile to your lips. “Well, we’re all glad you’re here now.”

“We?” He questioned.

You gave a coy smile, batting your lashes so sweetly. “Maybe just me.”

There was a strange expression on his face for just a moment. Then he laughed like it was nothing. He wished you a goodnight and good luck in your matches the next morning, and disappeared into his own room.

You medaled in women’s doubles. They published photos of you and your partner biting the silver between your teeth. That same day, Art Donaldson took home gold. You were there to see the very end of his last match— every single collision of racket against ball, every step, every grunt of exertion. Your thighs clenched as you watched, fists balled up in the fabric of your skirt.

You wanted him in a needy, desperate sort of way. Like a groupie for a rock band, or a virgin being sacrificed on a mountaintop. You watched him celebrate with a kiss from Tashi and felt that same need like an open wound. Jealousy was festering in you like a rot.

The dive bar wasn’t what you’d expected. Something Art had found with a quick google search and a few minutes with a translation app. He’d knocked on your door to invite you, wearing the beaming smile of someone on top of the world.

“So you’ll come?” He asked after he told you all about it.

“Mhmm,” you said, heart hammering against your ribs. “I’ll come.”

And there you were— in a dress that hardly qualified as such— standing so close to him that you could smell his expensive cologne. His arm would brush yours, he’d glance over and apologize with a warm hand to your arm. You’d clench your thighs together and peer at him through your lashes. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.

A few of the other players disappeared to play darts, or watch the late night coverage of the other sports still competing. You stuck by Art’s side, happily allowing his attention to fall on you completely.

“I saw parts of your doubles final,” he said finally. He was drinking a brand of beer you’d never seen before— something local, you supposed. “You looked beautiful out there.” Your eyes lit up, and then he added. “The way you were playing, I mean— it was phenomenal.”

“Well, I’m no gold medalist,” you said. You let your hand rest on his arm, and looked up at him. The fingers on your other hand toyed with the edge of the medal, warm from where it had been flush against his chest.

He swallowed. You felt his muscles flex beneath your touch, but he didn’t discourage it. Not one fucking bit.

It wasn’t lost on you that Tashi wasn’t there. Not that it was really her type of venue, from what you had gathered. It wasn’t lost on you that Art Donaldson was at a dive bar, drinking random Brazilian beers, instead of celebrating with his wife, with his daughter. Fuck all those posts on his instagram— if he really was a good husband, a faithful one… that’s the only place he’d want to be.

“I saw your match too. I ran right over after my ceremony to watch,” you confessed. It was hard to concentrate on anything else— you were standing so close to him that you were nearly pressed completely into his body.

His lips twitched in interest. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhmm. It was incredible. You were so dominant out there, just taking what was rightfully yours.”

He swallowed again, gravitating closer. Your tits were practically spilling out of your dress— he probably got the perfect eyeful when he eased you closer with a firm hand on your lower back, when he looked down at you through blown pupils.

“You looked so fucking hot out there, Art,” you said, lips brushing against his jawline. “You can’t even imagine how it felt sitting there, watching you win. How turned on I got… how wet.”

Art exhaled a shuddery breath. “Jesus Christ.”

It must’ve been a while since he had someone want him this bad, you thought. Clearly he needed it— needed a pretty, sweet thing to tell him just how much they wanted him. You could be that. You could do that.

“I’m not wearing panties,” you whispered in his ear. His grip on you tightened and you had to suppress a giddy smile. “You can feel if you want. I won’t tell.”

He swore under his breath and glanced around. Everyone was too occupied or drunk to give a shit about what the two of you were up to.

He grabbed your hand, pulled you away into the bathroom. You looked pretty even then, in the flickering lights, sat up on the edge of the sink eagerly awaiting his attention.

When he wrenched your thighs apart, he was greeted by the pretty sight of your glistening cunt— sticky with arousal and need. His hand fit there perfectly, right where you needed it.

“Fuck,” you gasped. His fingers rubbed through your slit— wet and hot and aching for him. Your head fell back, knocking against the dirty mirror. “Want you to use me— whatever you want, just take it.”

And you meant it too. This was your teenage idol— a man you’d touched yourself to the thought of countless times. He owned your body, your sexuality, as much as you did. It was only fair he took from it whatever he pleased.

You watched with hungry eyes as he fumbled with the button of his pants, then shoved them down just enough to free his dick.

Your mouth fucking watered with the need to feel it on your tongue, nudging against the back of your throat. You weren’t opposed to begging— you nearly started before you got it into your hand.

Warm, thick, pulsing. Precum beaded at his tip, so you smeared it around the sensitive head of his cock with your thumb. He groaned, bucked into your fist once, twice before he moved your hand.

“Spread your legs wider for me,” he said, slapping the inside of your thighs. You obeyed wordlessly, spreading yourself out invitingly. He pressed closer, so you felt him rutting his dick against your pussy, coating it in your arousal. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

The words came out with equal parts disgust and awe. He probably thought you were a slut with the way you were throwing yourself at him. You wished he’d just call you that, spit it in your face.

Your cunt pulsed with need, aching to be filled up finally. The culmination of years of fantasizing. Art pressed himself against your entrance, sinking himself into you with the slow reverence of a man who liked making love.

He buried himself inside of you and had to stop moving to keep from cumming then and there. He was a perfect image of restraint— the way his fingers dimpled the flesh of your hips in a bruising grip.

Art wanted to be a gentleman— to give you time to adjust to the size of him, to ease you into it and let the pleasure be a slow, soft burn. He pulled out nice and easy, slid himself into your wet, throbbing cunt. That was all fine and good, but you knew it was just pretense. You were laid out and wanting, begging for him to use you as his own personal toy.

“I’m not your wife, Art.” You met his gaze, locked your ankles around his waist. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

The first thrust, the first real one, knocked the air from your lungs. That silence didn’t last long— because you got what you wanted— he was really fucking you, bullying his cock into your pussy with the same need and desperation that you felt.

“Jesus Christ, you’ve— fuck— you’ve got no fucking self respect, huh?” He pounded into you, leveraging his grip to pull you against him, really impale you on his dick.

The moan that escaped you was pornographic. If he kept talking to you like that, if he kept fucking you like that, you’d cum.

“You don’t even care, do you? This fucking pussy’s squeezing me so tight— you fucking love this,” His voice was strained, interrupted by groans and pants.

You moaned, eyes rolling back. “Love this,” you echoed. When you looked down, at the sight of him splitting you open, of the ring of creamy arousal circling the base of his dick, you felt dizzy. Like you were standing on top of a tall building and looking down. Sort of out of body, tethered in the present by brutal thrusts into your pussy and the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies joining.

Your fingers moved between your thighs, rubbing needy and insistent at your clit. So close to finishing that you wanted to cry and just ask to start over again, that you’d savor it more a second time.

“Gonna cum,” he groaned suddenly. You felt him start to pull out, to leave. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck— not yet, you didn’t want it to end like that. “I have an IUD,” you lied through your teeth. You used your legs, pulled him closer, deeper. “Just keep going, don’t stop. I’m right there.”

He moaned against your throat— holding you tight, fucking into you with animal need. Your fingers moved against your clit with an insistent need. It didn’t take much to push you over the edge. Your moans so loud that Art had to put his medal between your lips to shut you up.

And you were so pliant— letting him drill into your aching, used cunt, your mouth tasting like metal. You felt his rhythm falter— one, two harsh thrusts that knocked muffled moans from you until he came, painting your insides thick, creamy white.

He stayed buried inside of you for a while— panting, doing his best to catch his breath. You spat out the medal and it fell back against his chest, spit slick and shining. You reached up, ran your fingers along his face, reverently, sweetly. A lock of hair fell into his eyes and you tucked it away with delicate fingers.

When he pulled out, you felt that sinking feeling of loss and jealousy in your chest. He redressed in silence, turned away like he couldn’t stand to look at you, or the mirror. Shame rolled off of him in waves that you wanted to brush away.

It wasn’t bad, you’d assure him. You’re a tennis star, you’re the greatest in the world. You should have whatever you want, whenever you want it.

But you didn’t say that. You just tidied yourself up as best as you could and slipped back out into the bar. If anyone noticed, they said nothing.

[fieriframes]

[My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home.]

[mapis-putellas]

𝑫𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 1568

Warnings: absolutely none

Summary: Alexia loves you, and when she’s intoxicated, she can’t help but tell you every opportunity she gets.

It was close to one in the morning when your phone buzzed on the coffee table, the sound pulling you out of a light sleep on the couch. You squinted at the screen, surprised to see Aitana's name lighting up. You sat up, concern prickling at the edge of your sleepiness as you answered.

"Hey, Aitana, what's up?"

Aitana's voice, tinged with amusement, came through, accompanied by the muffled sounds of a busy night out. "Hey, Y/N, sorry for calling so late, but... you might want to come pick up your girl."

You couldn't help but laugh a little, picturing Alexia out on the town. Going out wasn't really her thing—she usually preferred a quiet night at home with you or just relaxing on her own. But tonight had been different. After a big win, Mapi had convinced her to celebrate, and you'd encouraged her too, thinking she deserved to unwind with her friends.

"Is she okay?" you asked, standing up and grabbing your keys as you spoke.

"Oh, she is fine," Aitana replied, chuckling. "But she refuse to leave with anyone but you. Keeps saying, 'No, Y/N only,' over and over again."

You grinned, warmth filling your chest. "Alright, I'm on my way. Thanks for keeping an eye on her."

"No problem," Aitana said with a laugh. "She is adorable right now, by the way. Just... very clingy."

You ended the call and headed out, smiling to yourself as you drove to the bar. You could picture Alexia, slightly tipsy, clutching her phone and refusing to go with anyone but you. Even tipsy, her loyalty was unwavering.

When you pulled up outside the bar, you spotted Aitana and Mapi by the entrance, standing with Alexia. She was leaning heavily on Mapi's shoulder, eyes slightly glazed but lighting up the second she saw you. Her whole face brightened, and she stumbled forward, hands reaching out for you with an excited grin.

"Y/N!" she slurred, her accent even thicker in her drunken state. She immediately threw her arms around you, clinging tightly and nuzzling her face into your shoulder. "I missed you."

You wrapped your arms around her, chuckling as you steadied her. "I missed you too, Ale. Sounds like you had a fun night?"

She nodded, still holding you close as if she hadn't seen you in months. "Sí, but... not as good as... being with you," she mumbled, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

Mapi and Aitana exchanged amused glances, both of them grinning. "Good luck getting her home," Mapi teased, crossing her arms with a knowing smirk.

You laughed, gently guiding Alexia toward the car. "Thanks for calling me," you said to Aitana as Alexia stumbled along beside you, her arm tightly wrapped around you.

"Anytime," Aitana replied with a wink. "Take care of her. She's all yours."

With Alexia still clinging to you, you helped her into the passenger seat, buckling her in as she watched you with a goofy, love-struck smile.

"You're so... so pretty," she said, reaching up to touch your cheek, her fingers soft and slightly clumsy.

You grinned, warmth blooming in your chest. "Thanks, babe. You're not so bad yourself."

As you started the car, Alexia's attention shifted to the road, her eyes lighting up as you passed by a familiar fast-food place. She perked up, practically bouncing in her seat as she pointed out the window.

"Chicken nuggets!" she exclaimed, her tone full of excitement. "Please, can we get some? Just... just a few?"

You laughed, unable to resist her plea. Normally, Alexia was meticulous about her diet, rarely indulging in things like fast food. But the pleading look on her face, combined with her slightly slurred words, made it impossible to say no

"Alright, let's get you some nuggets," you agreed, pulling into the drive-thru.

Alexia's face lit up, and she practically squealed with delight. When the food arrived, she wasted no time, diving into the nuggets with a look of pure joy on her face. She took bites that were far too big, stuffing her mouth and somehow managing to get sauce on her chin. It was so unlike her usual composed self that you couldn't help but stare, utterly endeared by her messy enthusiasm.

"These are... so good," she mumbled through a mouthful of food, holding out a nugget to you with an earnest expression. "You... you want one?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "No, babe, those are all for you.

She beamed, continuing to munch on the nuggets as you drove, every so often glancing at you with a happy, slightly dazed expression that made your heart swell.

Once she finished her food, she settled back in her seat, her head leaning against the window as she watched the streetlights pass by. A comfortable silence filled the car, but then Alexia turned to you, her eyes soft and curious.

"Y/N..." she started, her voice quiet, almost vulnerable. "Do you... love me?"

You glanced at her, surprised by the question, though the earnest look on her face melted your heart. "Of course I do, Ale. You know that."

She nodded, seeming satisfied with your answer, but she wasn't done yet. "And... do you think... I am pretty?"

You smiled, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "You're more than pretty, Alexia. You're beautiful."

She blushed, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she looked out the window. But a few seconds later, she turned back to you, her expression serious.

"And... am I good at football?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the question held a deep significance.

You gave her hand another squeeze, your voice gentle. "Ale, you're amazing at football. You're one of the best players out there, and you're an incredible captain. Your team is lucky to have you, and I'm lucky to have you too."

Her face softened, her eyes shining with emotion as she gazed at you, clearly touched by your words. "Gracias, mi amor," she whispered, leaning over to rest her head on your shoulder as you continued driving, her breathing slowing as she relaxed.

When you finally pulled up to your place, you parked the car and gently nudged her awake. She blinked, looking slightly disoriented before grinning sleepily at you, reaching out for your hand.

"Home?" she murmured, leaning heavily against you as you helped her out of the car.

"Yeah, let's get you inside," you replied, guiding her toward the front door as she stumbled along beside you, her arm draped over your shoulders.

Once inside, you led her to the bedroom, easing her down onto the edge of the bed. She let out a contented sigh, her eyes half-closed as she watched you with a soft smile.

"Wait," she mumbled, reaching out to grab your hand as you moved to get her some pajamas. "Stay... don't leave."

You chuckled, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "I'm just grabbing you some pajamas, Ale. I'm not going anywhere."

She nodded, her hand slipping away as she leaned back, looking up at you with a sleepy but adoring gaze. You quickly grabbed a t-shirt and some soft shorts, helping her change as she clumsily lifted her arms, barely able to keep her balance. Once she was finally in her pajamas, you pulled back the covers, helping her slide into bed.

You climbed in beside her, expecting her to drift off quickly, but to your surprise, she scooted closer, resting her head on your shoulder as she looked up at you with a sleepy smile.

"Y/N?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Will you stay... here?"

You smiled, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. "Of course, Ale. I'm not going anywhere."

She snuggled against you, her head resting on your chest as she sighed happily. But even though she was lying down, sleep didn't seem to come easily. Instead, she kept fidgeting, her fingers tracing small patterns on your arm as she looked up at you, her eyes filled with questions.

"Y/N, do you think... we can get nuggets again tomorrow?"

You chuckled softly, nodding as you brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Sure, Ale. We can get nuggets whenever you want."

She smiled, her eyes beginning to close as she relaxed. But just when you thought she was finally drifting off, she stirred again, looking up at you with a sleepy but earnest expression.

"Y/N... you really... really love me, right?"

You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close as you pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Yes, Ale. I really, really love you. Now get some rest, okay?"

She nodded, finally settling down as she snuggled closer, her breathing gradually evening out as she drifted off to sleep, secure in your arms.

And as you held her close, a smile tugging at your lips, you knew that no matter how many times she asked, you'd be there to remind her just how much you loved her, tonight and every night.

**

Tags:

@codiemarin @girlgenius1111 @marysfics @ceesimz @xxnaiaxx @goldenempyrean @liloandstitchstan

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt 7

Hearing the chime of rhe bell above the door, Danny mentally prepared himself before poking his head around the corner "Heya! I will be with you in one hot sec!"

Rushing around the kitchen, Danny set the chili to simmer and quickly cleaned himself up before coming back to greet his newest customer.

Stepping upt to the bar, Danny put his best customer service smile on and opened his mouth to speak, but the words that came out were not in English.

"Hey there! Welcome to Big C's diner what can i..." Blinking a bit before frowning, Danny looked closer at his customer, his eyes flickering a bright green as he squinted at the man.

Because either this man was the very strong revenant that had claimed Crime alley as his huant, or there some how was a 4th Halfa in the world.

---

Jason found the little diner comfortable, more up to date than the typical dive that was in the Alley, there wasn't even any blood splatter in the back booths!

He kinda didn't like how there was only a single person working there at night, being so close to the Alley and all, but that was easily fixed if he just happened to come around in his Red Hood outfit.

Sending a smirk like smile to the teen that came out from the kitchen, who had the fakest smile that Jason had ever seen outside of a gala.

But his smirk slowly slipped as the kid spoke, his words both sounding clear and distorted at the same time, he could make out words but it was very clearly not words at the same time.

Then, the kid's eyes flashed, and Jason had seen those eyes before, he had seen them in the mirror more times than he was willing to admit.

(Holy shit this kid is about to have a Pit episode in front of me...how the fuck did this kid get in the pits?) Jason thought as he leaned back into his seat, his hand instantly going to where his guns usually were, but only grasped at air.

(Right...forgot those at home...) He thought, settling instead to set his hands on the counter, Jason narrowed his eyes at the teen

But just like that, the green was gone, and the teen cleared his throat, "Sorry about that, um, welcome to Big C's, what can I get ya?"

---

Danny gave a weak smile, he didn't exactly want to throw down with this potential halfa, sure he liked a good ghostly welcome every now and again, but he just cleaned up and he would like his diner to stay that way thank you!

The man across from him glared for amoment longer before shaking his head, "Shit, ugh...gimme a coffee and...what's your special today?"

Reaching for the coffee pot, Danny felt a rumble in the diner cart, and there was suddenly a chalk board on the wall behind him.

Pouring his customer a mug, his brain paused for a moment, translating the ghost script before he spoke "Cadavers chili hotdogs, made with 100% not person meat...I promise neither are made out of people, definitely didnt seen any bodies when I made it my guy."

---

Staring at the blackboard that Jason was very much sure wasn't there a moment ago, he felt his chest tighten and ache as he read the...sigils? Words? They were definitely something and he totally shouldn't know what they mean.

Biting back a snort at the dry comment, Jason focused on him "I will take two...Danny? That your name or just the name on the aprin you got?"

Jason was totally not digging for information, because he totally wasn't a Bat or a Bird, and he totally didn't have an urge to know everything about the person across from him.

Getting a dry chuckle from the guy on the other side of the counter, who could only shake his head, "Sadly, that's my name, I will be back in a sec with your food, no running off tho' ya hear? Already dealt with dine and dashers once this week."

Letting out a chuff, Jason kept his eyes around the room, he knew logically he should be more freaked out by this whole experience, but he couldn't help but feel his body relax and his mind comfortable slow.

Holding the cup of coffee in both hands, he took a long sip and memories hit him harder than a crowbar.

It was his mother's coffee, not the bitch that sold him out but his mama, Catherine, the woman that struggled to keep him happy and fed.

It was the watered down brew, stretched to make it last longer.

It was milky and sweet with sugar packets pilfered form diners such as this and powdered milk he used to steal from the grocery store just for her.

His mama gave up so much for him, why couldn't he just do one little petty theft for her?

His heart aches again, and the intense feel of the pits roar in his ears, but they weren't calling for blood, the pits crooned in nostalgic heart break.

Usually remembering before his death was a trigger, was something that made him rage, but right now? He could only mourn for the mother and son that used to cuddle up together under a ratty blanket, of the mother that whispered stories to him during long quiet nights, of the woman that he had found dead on one such quiet night.

---

Tossing on the last bit of fresh diced onions, Danny had a cheesy grin on his face as he brought the plate to the front, mouth opening to speak before noticing his customers disposition.

He was hunched over on himself, looking small (which was impressive for a man thst looked twice his size and 4 times more muscular)

Tears were streaming down his face as he stared at the now half full mug, for some reason it felt heart breaking to see.

Setting the plate down carefully in front of the man, Danny placed a hand on his shoulder, "It's okay man...your okay bud." Awkwardly Patting his customers shoulder, Danny felt a bit of panic, he wasn't Jazz he didn't know how to like, console people!

It took a few minutes for the man to calm, and Danny handed him a few paper towels to clean himself up, patting him on the back one last time, Danny let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, "Well...um, hope that the coffee is so bad that it made you cry, I-uhh, could comp it if you want?"

The man just shook his head, "Fuckin' hell, ain't bad, just...God damn it..."

---

Rubbing at his eyes Jason huffed, "Sorry for, um....blubbering on ya like that..

don't usually get teary at coffee, that's more of Timmer's shtick, just tastes...tastes like my mom's coffee when I was a kid..." shaking his head, Jason looked at the chili dogs, they still steamed, the cheese now melted on nicely.

Danny just nodded, "Yeah, some reason i have gotten a few comments on that" shrugging his shoulders, he started to figgle with a cloth, wipping down the counter as he spoke "Meh, Gotham is fucked up and I don't want to even begin to try and figure out."

Croaking out a laugh Jason dragged the plate of food closer, "Fucking right about that...though if you keep making it like that you got yourself a regular customer."

Reaching a hand across the counter, Jason gave Danny a weak smile, "Names Jason, nice to meet ya."

Taking the hand, Danny gave a smirk back, "Got it, one sad cup of coffee for you then-" Snapping his head over as he heard a beeping sound, Danny got a panicked look on his face "Oh shit! My cookies!"

---

Storming to the back, Danny ran to the oven, throwing it open, scrambling for the oven mits, he phased a hand through them instead of tugging them on, and quickly pulls the smoaking batch of sweets from the rack.

Plopping them on the counter, he hears the oven snap shut as he sighs, turning to thank the diner, he pauses to see the sight of a man he was hoping that he would never have to see again.

"Oh little Bager, King of the Realms making food for the common folk? How the great have fallen.." Vald said with a viscous grin, his hand reaching up to flip off the oven, "Did you think I wouldn't find you? Thought you could rum off and not tell dear old Uncle? Don't worry Bager, while old Vlad might not come around to vist much..."

There was a flash of black light and where a man once stood was a ghost, his grin pulled back devilishly "I am sure Plasmius will make up for it very...very well."

---

Laughing a bit as he watched Danny scramble inot the back, Jason stared at the food, he was still hungry but...he held an apprehension of sorts, was this going to bring back memories? Would they be good like the coffee or...

His thoughts were cut off as a body was through through the deviding wall from the front of the house to the kitchen.

Bolting up out of his seat, he watched as Danny stepped out of the hole in the wall, shaking out his fist as he did, "I really don't have the fucking time for you Plasmius, don't you see I have a customer?"

Jason stared as the body that was punched through the wall, that looked mangled, twisted and broken start to twitch and crack back into place, limbs bending back from positions they should never be, and then the man sat up, a feral grin on his lips.

(Really fucking bad day for not having my God damn guns.)