#LEND Boston

[britneyshakespeare]

I have to be so honest and vulnerable with you for a second. I keep thinking of getting another complete works of Shakespeare

[fern-spotting]

Columbo S1E2: "Death Lends a Hand" (1971)

Fern spotted at 25:30 -- our earliest fern yet. And it looks like my favorite, the Boston fern.

[talentforlying]

not to be on my bostontine shit again, but keanu constantine is absolutely an honorable mention of almost every boston ghost tour, solely because they're usually running around the same times that he would be breaking into various historical buildings/graveyards and "that's a ghost" feels like a safer explanation than "i've seen the same guy break into almost every building on the freedom trail by now, multiple times, and no thefts have ever been reported so idk wtf he's doing in there and at this point i'm too afraid to ask."

it became a genuine urban legend once he moved to LA, since nobody saw him around anymore and had to assume he was probably there somewhere, but now that he's back on his home turf, keanu constantine has taken to showing up at these tours just to encourage the legend. it helps keep him from getting arrested when he inevitably has to break into yet another historical site.

[waitmyturtles]

I love this train of thought. Observation (and record-keeping) as a means of control.

If the theory holds that it's Drake's character who is blackmailing Boston, then that means that Drake's character is another voyeur with information that he wants to use to control Boston. So.... Nick and Drake's character are in a similar boat there.

One thing that came to mind when Nick ran into Ray and Sand in the kitchen was that Nick was a little like us -- the audience -- in that moment, maybe a touch surprised by the immediate intimacy between those two. I kinda wonder -- besides Nick's unhingedness -- if maybe Nick is serving as a member of US, watching the shit go down among the OF quartet.

Scratching my chin on this...

I've been rotating Nick in my head for a hot minute but @ranchthoughts helped me straighten out my thoughts, so here's a little brainworm I had.

I think Nick reads as a voyeuristic character, not just in terms of the character itself but also as a narrative device - he acts as a sort of close proxy to the viewers. Nick goes through Boston's phone the same way we (as viewers) would be able to go through his phone by virtue of peeking over his shoulder, he wiretaps the car and is able to hear Top + Boston the same way we are, he's privy to Sand + Ray's private moment just like the viewers are - and it's almost like Nick seems to have full agency in the story but still doesn't manage to affect the plot in any significant way (thus far, at least!).

It's also very interesting because despite Boston's need for control and Mew's idea of being in charge, the character with the most information and cards up his sleeve, so to speak, is Nick. I wonder how that's going to play out.

[starrysturnz]

baby, it’s cold outside!

pairing. matthew sturniolo x reader

summary. when a harsh blizzard hits boston, matt and y/n get snowed in. with the power out, they brainstorm an alternative way to keep each other warm— and where better to do that than by the fireplace?

warnings. smut; softdom!matt, fingering (fem!receiving), unprotected sex, implied creampie, overstimulation (fem!receiving) if you squint. so much fluff. they love each other so much it’s gross.

word count. 1k

author’s note. sorry i’m posting so late… BUT it’s 10:30pm EST so technically it’s on time. the smut is rushed… this was supposed to be longer but i was traveling today and i didn’t have the energy to keep writing. whatever!! it’s just a blurb! kisses!

masterlist | taglist | starrysturnz’s christmas countdown

© starrysturnz. all rights reserved. dividers by @cafekitsune.

“i think that’s enough candles, matt,” y/n laughed, the flickering of the flames reflected in her already shining eyes. “you’re going to wear out the lighter.”

matt glanced up just long enough for her to catch the mischievous grin on his illuminated face, setting the pine-labeled jar down. “it’ll last, baby. i can always go get us another one if it dies.”

“not in this weather, you won’t,” the girl scolded, gazing out the window at the white void and snagging a blanket out of the nearby storage closet. “i don’t care how close the corner store is, you’re not going out in that.” she shivered at the thought, coming up behind her boyfriend and draping the fluffy material across his shoulders. her fingers tickled their way around his waist, clasping tightly and hugging him close so she could relax against his back. 

matt’s shoulders jostled her as he chuckled. “c’mon, you know i’m not that stupid. i’d just go next door and ask mr. martínez to lend me one.”

“please. mr martínez hates us. he’d probably let you in just to push you off his balcony.” 

turning around in her grasp, matt opened his arms and ushered y/n into his embrace, securing the blanket to cover her frame. “then it’s a good thing there’s four feet of snow on the ground waiting to catch me, huh?” he swiped the tip of her nose with his knuckle, pulling her in to lay a kiss against her forehead. 

“whatever. i’m not going down there with a hairdryer to thaw you out. you’re on your own.” 

“a space heater would work better, no?” he mused with a smile. “speaking of… we gotta get some heat going in here, it’s freezing. how ’bout a fire, hm? keep us warm ’til they get the power lines back up?”

he felt her nod against his chest. “you do that. i’m gonna go grab the duvet.”

⁺⁎˚

“m-matt…,” y/n whined from beneath him, “please, don’t stop. please.” 

“i’ve barely gotten started, baby,” matt spoke lowly, nosing at her flushed cheek, “why would i stop now?”

a breathy sigh filled the space between them, “because you’re evil, and you’re a tease.”

“if i was evil, would i do this?” she gasped sharply as she felt his fingers curl inside her, hitting that special, spongy spot that always left her weak in the knees. his thumb worked hard on her clit, and a shiver shot down her spine; this time, not from the cold. 

actually, they were quite warm. matt was the one to suggest they build a makeshift bed by the fireplace, and in hindsight, y/n should’ve known he was scheming for more. but she couldn’t lie and say it was uncomfortable or impractical— the many pillows and blankets beneath her made for a really soft mattress, and she was nothing if not cozy. 

but the girl was bordering on impatient. it’s not her fault! it’s just that they’d been doing this for a while now, and the poor girl wanted more. matt’s a giver at heart, and she knew this could go on all night if she didn’t say something. 

“matt…,” she whimpered desperately, hands finding purchase in his hair. a dull ache bloomed at the base of his skull as she tugged. “m-matty—”

“matty?” he laughed. “someone’s desperate… poor thing.” his fingers never relented, and it wasn’t long before her first orgasm finally took over. 

“oh… oh, my god, matt!” y/n’s voice sounded through the small living room, her hips lifting off of the sheets and grinding into matt’s hand as she started coming down from her high. 

“’s right, baby,” he pulled his fingers out, and a whine of discomfort tumbled from her lips. “that’s it, you’re all right. i got you.” 

matt took the opportunity to take his girlfriend in. the sight of her beneath him, half aglow in the firelight, laying like an angel in their improvised bed surrounded by candles. he felt like the luckiest guy in the universe. 

“baby,” his hand came up to her face, stroking her cheek softly with his knuckles, “you’re shaking.”

y/n’s brow furrowed just so, eyes opening to meet his. “oh… sorry….”

“’s nothing to be sorry about. are you cold? i can grab another log to throw in there, or maybe we have another blanket—”

“i have a better idea.” reaching between them, she palmed him through his calvin kleins. 

matt, sucking in a breath through his front teeth, hung his head low as he gathered himself— if he came from one touch alone, he’d never live it down. y/n would make sure he never heard the end of it. 

“you sure you don’t want some water first? maybe just a minute to relax a little? i can wait, promise.” 

the girl leaned up, pressing the tip of her nose to his. “matt,” she whispered, “please fuck me.”

matt smiled and wasted no time ridding himself of his boxers, almost losing his balance and toppling onto her in the process (she laughed at him and offered no help, naturally). he groaned as he sunk in, swallowing her moans with his mouth, fingers finding her clit once again. a shudder ran through her spine at the stimulation. 

“you’re perfect,” he breathed against her neck. wet kisses littered the area, a roadmap of his favorite freckles and blemishes. “what did i do to deserve you?”

y/n wanted to tell him he was born deserving of everything good, but her lips were stuck in a permanent ‘o’ shape. she was putty in his arms, his thrusts jostling her back and forth against the pillows. 

“love you… so much, baby,” those the last words she heard before her second high, matt following soon behind her. a few moments came and went before she nudged his shoulder, and matt took that as his cue to ease up. 

“i love you, too,” y/n broke the silence. “but i think mr. martínez probably wants us evicted now.”

taglist: @toslayy

[pearlessance]

*∙∵`∴♡MASTERLIST♡∴`∵∙*

☆ THE LAST OF US ☆

↳ Joel Miller

⤷ Our Little Secret - dbf!Joel pre-outbreak

Joel Miller deals with disgusting intrusive thoughts about the girl next door who smells like vanilla and uses cherry chapstick. [part one][part two] - read on AO3!

⤷ Moral Modification - JacksonEra!Joel - written for joelmillersgirlfriend <3

When you decide to pierce your nipples, Joel Miller breaks his moral code to lend a helping hand. read on AO3!

⤷ A Dance In The Dark - Joel x f!Reader

Joel puts on a mask and chases you through the woods. read on AO3! [cowritten with joelmillersgirlfriend]

⤷ Three's A Crowd - Joel x Reader x Tommy

Tommy's new girlfriend is awfully sweet. When Joel finds out she's got a big appetite that only he can fill, he decides to satisfy the craving. read on AO3!

⤷ Lust Among Thieves - Joel x Reader x Tommy

Survival is a skill that everyone had to gain after the world ended. Your father was killed in the Boston QZ, leaving you alone and forced to survive all on your lonesome. Just to eat, you had to steal from strangers, but unfortunately, you picked two of the worst people to target. What you didn’t expect was the lust that steadily built between all three of you. read on AO3! [cowritten with joelmillersgirlfriend]

⤷ I'll Crawl Home to Her - husband!Joel x wife!Reader

All the ways Joel Miller loves his pretty little wife. And all the ways she loves him right back. read on AO3!

⤷ Beneath the Armor - Joel Miller x f!Reader

Joel Miller has been the center of all the gossip in the trailer park since he tragically lost his daughter. He's short-tempered and mean as hell, his hostility no doubt spurred on by that beer he always has in hand. But when you need a ride to work and he's your last resort, you come to find he's much more than what meets the eye. [cowritten with joelmillersgirlfriend] [part one] [part two TBA] [read on AO3!]

↳ Tommy Miller

⤷ Fishnet's and Old Fashioned's - pre-outbreak, goth!bartender!reader

Tommy Miller wants a big titty goth gf and isn't above begging on his knees to get one. [part one] [part two] or read on AO3!

⤷ Three's A Crowd - Tommy x Reader x Joel

Tommy's new girlfriend is awfully sweet. When Joel finds out she's got a big appetite that only he can fill, he decides to satisfy the craving. read on AO3!

⤷ Lust Among Thieves - Joel x Reader x Tommy

Survival is a skill that everyone had to gain after the world ended. Your father was killed in the Boston QZ, leaving you alone and forced to survive all on your lonesome. Just to eat, you had to steal from strangers, but unfortunately, you picked two of the worst people to target. What you didn’t expect was the lust that steadily built between all three of you. [part one] [part two] read on AO3! [cowritten with joelmillersgirlfriend]

☆ MULTI-PART SERIES ☆

⤷ Idle Threats - JacksonEra!Joel Miller [COMPLETED]

Joel has watch duty with Jackson's twenty year old, smart mouthed brat and gets more than he bargained for. [series masterlist] read on AO3!

☆ JUJUTSU KAISEN ☆

↳ Nanami Kento

⤷ Killshot, Baby! - brat tamer!Nanami x fem!Reader

nanami kento is a meticulous man; calm, stable, and precise. a perfect antithesis to your messy, impulsive ways. the longer you're around him, the more you're convinced you'll never agree on anything. well…except for the way you fuck. [series masterlist] [read on AO3!]

↳ Gojo Satoru

⤷ Daddy's Home! - bestfriend!Gojo x fem!Reader

Gojo makes up where your new boyfriend falls short small.

☆ COMING SOON! ☆

⤷ cherry bomb - dbf!joel miller x f!virgin!reader - multi part series

⤷ killshot, baby! [nanami kento x reader] part two

⤷ miller contracting [boss!joel miller x reader]

[andersonsgf]

c.ai bot masterlist

last updated 27/03/25 (dd/mm/yy)

my account: andersonsgf

TLOU

Abby Anderson:

lending a hand at the gym

wife - the end we start from AU

not belonging at the stadium

black cat orange cat

drifting apart

tv station patrol

dating your roommate

Ellie Williams:

college roommates

snowy day in the garage - jackson

college fratboy

changing in seattle

nerds together

remembers you from the boston qz

i'm sorry, are you?

hasn't had a crush in a while

Arcane

Caitlyn and Vi:

intruding

Caitlyn:

war against ambessa

(commander) snaps at you

the girl she sneaks in

nothing's new

her mom doesn't approve

(commander) lost connection

Jinx:

almost hurt you

you remembered her birthday

Vi:

the food stall - seeing each other after stillwater

fellow pit fighter

she won't leave stillwater without you

prison wife

college roommate au

empty gym - modern au

coming home with a pet poro

sneaking in

Marvel

Natasha Romanoff:

post mission comfort

shopping for liho

getting you away from the red room

norway trailer

lots of paperwork

Wanda Maximoff:

locked inside

[probablyasocialecologist]

The forces that oppress us may compete and make war with one another, but when it comes to maintaining the order of capitalism and the hierarchy of white supremacy, they collaborate and work together based on their death-making and eliminationist shared interests. Oppressed people, on the other hand, often demand ideological alignment or even affinity when seeking to interrupt or upend structural violence. This tendency lends an advantage to the powerful that is not easily overcome. Put simply, we need more people. What do we mean by this? We are not talking about launching search parties to find an undiscovered army of people with already-perfected politics with whom we will easily and naturally align. Instead, organizing on the scale that our struggles demand means finding common ground with a broad spectrum of people, many of whom we would never otherwise interact with, and building a shared practice of politics in the pursuit of more just outcomes. It’s a process that can bring us into the company of people who share our beliefs quite explicitly, but to create movements, rather than clubhouses, we need to engage with people with whom we do not fully identify and may even dislike. We can build upon our expectations of such people and negotiate protocols around matters of respect, but the truth is, we will sometimes be uncomfortable or even offended. We will, at times, have to constructively critique people’s behavior or simply allow them room to grow. There will be other times, of course, when we have to draw hard lines, but if we cannot organize beyond the bounds of our comfort zones, we will never build movements large enough to combat the forces that would destroy us.

[peachhcs]

Hannah surprises James today at the beanpot. She said she couldn’t make it but she could and wanted to surprise him.

you read my mindddd😌 the blurb immediately came to me when i saw the beanpot posts HAHA

au masterlist

the td garden was packed with boston college and northeastern fans for the highly anticipated annual beanpot. fans lined the arena and across the wall as the players poured onto the ice to start warmups. the students were on their feet yelling down to the eagles and booing northeastern. the boys ate it up through as they skated the around the glass encouraging the fans to keep it going.

there was one fan in the crowd tucked away that none of the players would recognize her unless she made herself more apparent. hannah and james talked earlier in the week where the gymnast mentioned that she probably didn’t think she could convince her coach to give her off for a day. james was slightly disappointed, but he did understand because negotiating with college coaches wasn’t easy.

however, what james didn’t know was that hannah already had her ticket booked for the game when they talked. the girl was starting to turn into samy because she just loved the idea of getting to surprise her boyfriend and just showing up after convincing him she wouldn’t be there.

she spotted his number 10 down on the ice doing his usual warmups with the guys. a proud smile sat on her lips knowing how much he was looking forward to this game and how much it meant to him to finally be able to play in it. tonight hannah sported some old boston college merch samy lended and she painted a small #10 on her cheeks and then the eagle on the other.

the younger duke sister wasn’t exactly sure how she wanted to make herself apparent or known that she was in attendance. she didn’t know if telling james before the game would distract him, or if just waiting until after would be better? or if him spotting her in the middle of the game would be even worse?

hannah didn’t really have time to contemplate her answers much longer because someone did end up spotting her. as ryan flew past her section, his eyes were on the fans and that’s when he spotted her familiar face in the sea of crimson. the brunette stopped in his tracks and skated back, a wide, confused smile on his lips.

“duker!” he yelled making the girl flush when the other boston college students glanced in her direction.

ryan looked excited to see her. he spun on his skate to find james to tell him who was here. hannah’s blush rose when some of the other fans noticed and recognized who she was.

“haggy! you’re never gonna guess who’s here!” ryan yelled when he got closer to his teammate who was on the other end of the rink.

“who?” james wondered.

“your girl is here,” ryan grinned widely and james’ shocked expression mirrored his own seconds ago.

“hannah’s here?”

“yeah!” ryan pulled james’ arm back towards hannah’s section. he pointed up to the girl who shyly waved down at them.

james’ mouth dropped open in complete shock and then a warm, fuzzy feeling bursted throughout his chest as the happiness slowly overtook the surprise.

she was here.

“go say hi, i’ll cover for you,” ryan pushed the boy towards the door where hannah was already making her way to the floor.

james lifted up his helmet briefly when hannah stood before him, “you’re here,” he mumbled.

“i’m here. surprise,” the gymnast grinned.

“i can’t believe you’re here. i-i thought..how did you?..” the words died in his throat along with every coherent thought in his brain.

“i may have sort of lied when we talked last week. i already had the flight booked. figured i’d try out this whole surprise thing,” hannah giggled and james didn’t even care that the entire boston college student body was watching him.

he pulled her into his arms, that warm feeling spreading throughout his entire body at the feeling of her wrapped around him. james wouldn’t admit this out loud, but he missed having her in his arms like this.

“i missed you so much. i can’t believe you’re here,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

“i missed you too, hags. it’s good to see you,” hannah smiled and james also couldn’t stop himself from kissing her.

he heard a few whistles probably from the students watching them still, but he couldn’t less. he hadn’t seen hannah since winter break and even that wasn’t enough time because of world juniors taking up a majority of that break.

hannah slowly directed their lips away knowing people were watching and they could save it for after the game when an entire arena couldn’t see them. “you should get back, but i’ll see you after. score some goals for me,” she smiled.

“oh, you know i will,” the boy beamed, kissing her one last time before skating back on before one of the coaches yelled at him.

hannah blushed before making her way back to her seat. a few of the fans glanced her way, but she mostly ignored the murmurs.

that was probably the most public they’ve ever been with their relationship and neither of them hated it. actually, it sent this strong feeling through james’ chest that everyone just watched him kiss his girlfriend in a sold out arena because now everyone knew she was his.

the eagles dominated the ice in an overwhelming 8-2 victory. the fans were loud and electric as they celebrated the first win of the tournament. hannah kept to herself outside of the locker rooms. she watched the replays of all of the game winning goals knowing james was going to be ridding a really good high tonight.

the boy was eager to see her again, so he basically rushed through his shower. he knew he didn’t have a lot of time until he needed to get back on the bus, but he hoped hannah was up for crashing at his dorm for the night.

he rushed out of the locker room in search of her. hannah looked up as soon as james started running towards her, now back in his suit with damp hair from his shower. she giggled when he wrapped her into his arms and spun her around.

“congrats on the win,” she smiled.

“i told you i’d score some goals,” james smiled as well.

“you were amazing out there. i’m proud of you,” the girl gushed.

he took this more quieter opportunity to kiss her without the anxiety of everyone watching. their lips moved in slow sync with each others, savoring it more than before. if james could kiss her all night he would because he would never get over the feeling of her lips on his.

“i’m so glad you came. i was really hoping you would,” the hockey player said when they finally pulled away.

“i’d never miss this. this is your moment,” hannah cupped his face where he leaned into her touch.

“i gotta get back on the bus soon, but what are the chances you’ll come crash at my dorm?” the boy grinned.

“100%, just tell me when,” hannah agreed.

“perfect, i will. god, i’m so glad you’re here. i’ll see you super soon,” james kissed her one last time before meeting his team.

hannah smiled to herself, that same warm, fuzzy feeling bubbling in her own stomach as she headed back to her hotel to await james’ text that she could head to his dorm.

[invisiblegarters]

Okay, okay.

After even more thinking maybe just maybe Ray's explosion on Sand was karmic retribution lol.

Because I've been thinking about it and.

Well.

This was not a heat of the moment plan for him. Not even a little. Dude had to get his drink (that poor server jfc what did she ever do to either of those messy bitches), go back to his mom, probably give her a ride home.

And then he still cold bloodedly broke his own phone (which let's be real for someone living like Sand does that is DEDICATION to his goal), then came in laying it on super thick about his mom to Nick so that he'd rush to fix it and lend him his. Sent himself the audio.

Then he called Ray up and invited him out to hang after blowing him off for who knows how long (and Ray clearly thought they were there to make up, okay, I might not be this ship's biggest supporter but even I could see that) just so he can use his feelings for Mew against him.

The conversation was so fucked, too. Sand immediately (and repeatedly I say again I'm not this ship's biggest supporter but one of them was actively trying here and it wasn't Sand) steering it away from Ray's attempts to talk about them to swerve to Mew is just...I love it. Complimenting Mew and saying he can totally see why everyone is in love with him? The way he played the audio right there (you are all so creepy for this my god will you please stop playing that clip at each other like the world's most fucked up game of telephone?). The casual drop that he knows how bad Top is because he also lost a lover to him (oh the parallels he deliberately put down there Sand you evil genius). And then rounding it up with "it's so great Mew has someone who cares about him as much as you."

All the while watching him to see how well his words were taking root. I'm floored because I genuinely thought he was gonna pull some stupid selfless bullshit like "I can't have you but I can give you what you want." Instead he just torpedoed several relationships and all it took was breaking a phone he knows his IT roommate will probably fix for free.

Boston fucking wishes.

It's so mean and I love it my dude is finally showing off just how fucked up he can be when crossed I think this is better than the baseball bat.

[thsillystringbeanscribbler]

Bunny Slippers

Summary: While on the hunt for their dad the Winchester brothers are encouraged by Bobby to reach out to an old hunting buddy of John and Bobby. The trip leads to meeting not only a rugged hunter which is a missing puzzle piece to their dad's disappearance but also got to make the acquaintance of his lovely daughter.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader [ OC ]

Warnings: mostly fluff with a sprinkle of possible violence or angst, maybe slow burn (i'm not too sure)

Word Count: 4,685 words

Author's Note: This is my first ever fanfiction. I dont really know how to write y/n so oc is all you're getting. I recently discovered the world of Supernatural and I am in love. This story takes place during Season 1, it doesn't really follow the story line and there might be some lore in accuracies. Please be kind, and I hope you enjoy my little story.

image from Pinterest

With Bobby's wise counsel and the elusive hints scattered in John's journal, he implored the brothers to seek out Rob Blackburn, who could potentially steer them toward John. Rob, as Bobby explained, wasn't just an ally; he was a long-time comrade of both John Winchester and Bobby, often accompanying them on perilous hunts. Armed with this knowledge, Sam and Dean embarked on their journey to Boston in the trusty Impala. Dean took the wheel, immersing himself in the thumping beats of rock and roll, while Sam, map in hand, navigated the labyrinth of roads leading to Robert Blackburn's whereabouts. The pages of John's journal rustled in the background, revealing his own trek to Massachusetts, where he had joined forces with Rob to confront a formidable Wendigo.

In the early autumn morning, the Impala turned down the street of the Blackburn home, the epitome of historical charm found in Boston. The townhouse stands out with its red brick facade, large curved windows adorned with black shutters, and stately black entrance doors. Wrought iron railings line the stone steps leading up to the front doors, and mature trees along the sidewalk cast dappled shadows onto the cobblestone street. The vehicle comes to a halt in front of the winsome townhouse, with its elegance further accentuated by the cascading wisteria, lending a touch of natural beauty to the urban setting.

Dean cut the engine, his gaze shifting from the Blackburn residence to his brother. Sam, peering at Dean, broke the silence with his characteristic intensity. "So, think you're ready to face whatever's in there?" he asked, his voice tinged with both concern and determination.

Dean responded with his usual bravado, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ready? Sam, I was born ready. Let's do this." His tone was confident, almost playful, yet underscored by the seriousness of their mission.

Moving in unison, the brothers climbed the steps to the Blackburn residence. A silent exchange of resolve passed between them as Dean turned to face the ominous black door. He pressed the doorbell, and for a moment, there was only silence. Impatient, Dean began to knock forcefully, intent on getting an answer.

Before he could knock again, hurried footsteps approached from inside. The door swung open to reveal a petite, dishevelled woman. Her light auburn curls were hastily tied atop her head, and her sleepy green eyes, magnified by tortoise-rimmed circle glasses, blinked at the unexpected visitors. Dean's gaze travelled over her, taking in the oversized Van Halen band t-shirt, the long flannel Batman pyjama pants tucked into mismatched white tube socks, and the pink bunny slippers, all indicating she had indeed just rolled out of bed.

The woman, stifling a yawn and crossing her arms defensively, addressed them with a groggy, gravelly voice. "Hello? Can I help you with something?" Her sleepy demeanour contrasted sharply with the urgency of their visit. 

The faintest hint of a smile played across Dean's face, a touch of warmth amidst the crisp Boston morning. The dishevelled stranger before him, a haphazardly charming vision in her comic book pyjamas and mismatched socks, sparked a flicker of amusement in his hunter's gaze. She couldn't be much older than Sam, he mused, who was barely past the threshold of twenty-two himself.

Clearing his throat, Dean straightened up a little, his eyes locking onto hers with an earnest steadiness. "Morning," he started, his voice carrying the signature gravel of a man used to long nights and the roar of a V8 engine. "Sorry to wake you, but we're looking for Rob Blackburn. The thing is," he paused, the weight of their search momentarily tightening his features, "our dad was working a case with him, and now... Dad's gone off the grid. We were hoping Rob might have some answers."

He watched her closely, not just for her response, but for any sign, any tell that might unravel the mystery of their father's whereabouts.

The woman's head tilted slightly, causing a few untamed curls to escape her hastily made morning bun. She squinted at Dean, her eyebrows knitting together in a puzzled frown. As her gaze shifted between Dean and Sam, a hint of wariness crept into her expression. "Sorry," she murmured, her free hand sliding under her glasses to rub at a sleepy eye. "But who are you guys, exactly?" she asked, her lips pursed slightly, clearly waiting for an explanation.

Dean met her gaze squarely, his expression a blend of seriousness and charm. "Name's Dean and this towering figure here is my brother, Sam," he said with a hint of a smirk. "We're here looking for Rob. You might know him through our dad, John Winchester. They go way back, and it's kind of important we talk to him." His tone carried the urgency of their quest, yet remained respectful, acknowledging the oddity of their early morning visit.

Her eyebrows lifted from their puzzled frown as the name John Winchester sparked a flicker of recognition in her features. Hesitating for a moment, she leaned slightly forward, peering past Sam and Dean to scan the street. Her green eyes settled on the shiny black Chevy parked in front of the house. Dean, noticing her gaze, followed it to the Impala.

With his trademark flirtatious smile, Dean couldn't resist a playful comment. "Hey, if you're interested, I could show you what she's really capable of," he said, nodding towards the Impala. The woman's eyes snapped back to Dean, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. Realizing how his words might have sounded, Dean quickly clarified with a cheeky grin, "The Impala, I mean. A ride in the car."

She nodded silently, her cheeks now a deeper shade of red. A bit flustered, she stuttered, "Uh–" but then, meeting Sam's hazel eyes, she paused, took a deep breath, and regained her composure. "I'll be right back," she said before gently closing the door.

Dean left staring at the black door, perked up his ears as he heard her voice escalate inside, calling out, "Dad! The Winchesters are here!" After a brief silence, her voice rose again, more insistent this time, "DAD!"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look of surprise at the volume of her shout. The response came in the form of a deep, muffled reply from within. The door creaked open again, and the woman offered an awkward smile. "He'll be down so–"

Before she could finish, a tall, muscular man in plaid flannel pyjama pants and a simple grey t-shirt descended the stairs. He stood imposingly behind her, his voice deep and gravelly. "Mornin'," he greeted, eyeing the brothers. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Definitely John's boys," he observed as he extended his hand.

Dean grasped his hand firmly. "Dean," he introduced himself with a nod.

Sam followed suit, shaking Rob's hand. "Sam. It's good to meet you."

Rob's genuine smile broadened. "Rob. Nice to finally meet you boys. John's told me a lot about you two."

In the midst of the heartfelt introductions, Rob's daughter slipped out under her father's arm, who was now holding the door open. He quickly turned his head to call after her, "Jay, boil the water. We're gonna need some coffee."

Rob then stepped aside, inviting them in. "C'mon in," he said, glancing once more at the street as the brothers entered. "Damn, is that John's Impala?" he asked, intrigued.

Dean turned back to Rob, a hint of pride in his voice. "Actually, she's mine now. Dad left her to me. She's got more history and miles on her than most cars on the road. Runs like a dream, though." His words were laced with respect and a touch of nostalgia for both the car and his father.

The boys followed the barefoot Rob Blackburn into his living room. The space was a testament to a life well-lived and richly layered, a striking balance between the modern and the memorabilia of yesteryear. They stepped through the wooden archway, and Dean's gaze swept the room—a harmony of contemporary and eclectic tastes.

The living room was bathed in morning sunlight from a large, bay window framing the greenery and wisteria blossoms outside, its grandeur contrasted by the cozy array of furniture. A plush, dark green sofa accented with earth-toned pillows invited comfort and long conversations. Across the room, a pair of vintage armchairs stood guard, their fabric hinting at a past era. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, a ladder poised as if in mid-ascent, suggesting a world of knowledge and stories just out of reach. In the center, a stately wooden coffee table bore the weight of books and vases, while a Persian rug beneath whispered tales of ancient craftsmanship.

Above the mantel, a flat-screen TV was mounted, an anachronism amid the classical vibe. The mantle itself was a gallery of personal history, with frames marching across its length like milestones. Dean's eyes traced the journey of the dishevelled girl named Jay through frozen moments: school plays, graduations, and candid laughter.

One photograph, in particular, seized Dean's attention, squeezing his heart with the force of a long-forgotten song. There, captured in the stillness of time, was a young woman with auburn curls, her arm casually draped over a youthful Mary Winchester. Beside her, a younger Rob stood with an easy stance, and on the other side, John Winchester's smile reached out, as bright and as real as if he were standing in the room with them.

Dean found his voice, roughened by the swell of memory. "You've got quite the place here, Rob. Feels like a home that's seen a lot of good times," he said, his eyes not leaving the photograph.

Rob, following Dean's gaze, nodded with a touch of nostalgia. "Yeah, it's been through a lot. Every piece has a story, especially those photos," he said, his voice softening. "That one there," he pointed to the photograph that held Dean's gaze, "was from a summer BBQ we had right after John got back from a tour. Good times indeed, Dean.”

With a comforting pat on Dean's shoulder, Rob motioned towards the dark green sofa. "Please, take a seat," he said in a voice that carried the warmth of a seasoned host. Sam was already lounging there, looking every bit the part of a man ready to delve into matters of gravity and ghosts. Rob's towering presence moved towards one of the vintage armchairs, his movements measured and graceful. He sank into the chair with the ease of a man in his own sanctuary.

Dean observed Rob, taking in the rugged features that spoke of a life lived much like their father's—on the road, but always returning home. The man sitting across from him had a face that bore the marks of laughter and squinting against the sun, a generous beard that was well kept but suggested it could tell stories of its own. His hair, though tousled from sleep, had the hint of waves, and the light caught the flecks of gray that ran through it like silver threads in a tapestry. There was a certain comfort in his ruggedness, an unspoken kinship that Dean recognized well.

Rob caught Dean's gaze and chuckled, a sound that seemed to reverberate around the room. "My apologies, if I'd known Johnny's boys would be showing up on my doorstep, I'd have made myself presentable," he said, his fingers raking through his hair in a vain attempt to tame it.

Their conversation was paused as Jay quietly made her entrance, her arms full with an offering of steaming mugs. Dean's eyes followed her every step, noting the careful balance as she placed the coffee on the table with precision. The small, satisfied smile that danced across her lips made Dean's own lips twitch in response. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a look of comical frustration.

Jay stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes closed, speaking through gritted teeth. "I was so proud of not spilling coffee, I forgot people might want milk and sugar too."

Dean leaned forward, picked up one of the mugs, and met her frustrated gaze with a reassuring smile. "Don't sweat it, Jay. I take my coffee black as midnight on a moonless night," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "It's the best way to kick-start the day, especially when there's work to be done." He took a sip, letting the rich bitterness of the coffee linger, a stark contrast to the gentle chaos of the morning.

Jay—no, Julia—looked momentarily taken aback, an unspoken question flickering in her eyes about Dean's use of her nickname. Before she could voice it, Rob intervened with a throaty chuckle that broke the brief silence. "Dean, Sam, if it wasn't already apparent, this spirited individual is my daughter Julia."

Julia's expression folded into a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment at her father's words. "Introductions must've slipped my mind earlier," Rob added, his eyes twinkling with paternal amusement.

With a graceful motion that seemed to betray her earlier fluster, Julia tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Was a bit scattered, to be honest," she admitted as a soft hue painted her cheeks.

He offered her a warm, appreciative smile, and she, in turn, blushed a shade deeper, hastily picking up the one mug that held coffee lightened with milk. "Anyway, I'm—" she started, her voice trailing off as she backed away, thumbing in the direction of the staircase, "—going to get dressed."

With that, Julia turned, her retreat up the stairs as quick as it was quiet, leaving the conversation to hang in the warm, coffee-scented air of the living room.

The trio settled into an easy silence, the kind that speaks of understanding rather than discomfort. Eventually, Rob broke the stillness, setting his coffee cup down with a soft clink. "Not that I'm complaining about having John's boys over," he began, his voice even and curious, "but what brings you to my door?"

Sam, always the one to dive into the details, took the lead. "Well, Rob, from what we've pieced together with Bobby's input and clues from Dad's journal, it seems John was here in Boston not too long ago. He was helping you out with a wendigo situation," he explained. "You might have been one of the last people to see him. Now, Dean and I are crisscrossing the country, trying to track him down."

Dean, meanwhile, was only half-listening, his mind wandering as he sipped the robust black coffee. His thoughts were momentarily caught up with Julia—her surprising affinity for classic rock band shirts, her effortless command of the room, despite her earlier disarray. There was an allure there that Dean couldn't quite dismiss.

Realizing he needed to jump back into the conversation, he met Rob's gaze over the rim of his mug. "So, any chance Julia might know something that could help us out?" he asked, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of hope. It was a thinly veiled attempt to weave Julia back into their narrative—perhaps more for another encounter than actual investigative purposes.

Rob leaned back, a faint smile playing on his lips as he cradled his mug. "Julia? She wasn't really involved with the hunting side of things with John. She's the brains, does all the research," he began, but the strains of Led Zeppelin suddenly filled the room, filtering through the walls of Julia’s bedroom, in a muffled but unmistakable riff.

He laughed, a low, rich sound, and shook his head affectionately. "Yeah, she's a history major. She’s got her nose usually buried in old books. But she did dig into the Wendigo lore while John was around. Spent a few hours picking his brain, so it might be worth a shot to ask her," Rob conceded, acknowledging the potential value in speaking with his daughter once more.

As the sun arced higher in the sky outside the arch window, time seemed to fold in on itself within the Blackburn residence. The conversation ebbed and flowed naturally, the brothers and Rob exchanging tales and theories about the elusive Wendigo. Engrossed in the retelling, they barely noticed the passage of time until the Led Zeppelin anthem that had been humming in the background abruptly ceased. A hush fell over the house, and Dean couldn't help but cast a puzzled look towards Rob, who appeared unfazed by the sudden silence, continuing his story with the ease of a man accustomed to the unpredictable soundtrack of a busy household.

Dean's attention was drawn towards the hallway as a flash of red caught his eye—a pair of Converse sneakers, the unmistakable hallmark of a casual yet deliberate style. As Julia came into view, his gaze instinctively followed the line of her high-waisted jeans up to her neatly tucked-in white shirt. Gone was the disarray of the morning; in its place stood Julia, transformed. Her light auburn curls, now tamed and flowing gracefully down her back, framed a face of calm composure.

She paused in the archway, and for a moment, there was a silent exchange as Dean's eyes met hers—no longer sleepy, but sharp and full of life.

Rob, seizing the opportunity, looked up at his daughter with a mix of pride and practicality. "Perfect timing, Jay. Do you recall any of the details from when John helped out with the Wendigo case? I'd take a stab at finding the research in the office, but I still can't make heads or tails of your organization system."

Julia's lips pursed lightly, a subtle indication she was preparing to delve into her mental archives, but before she could articulate her thoughts, Rob interjected with decisiveness. "Great, I'll go get changed, and you can show the boys what you've got."

Julia nodded, a silent agreement to take the lead, and Dean couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for the way she navigated her father's expectations with grace. There was more to Julia than met the eye, and Dean was keen to uncover the depths of her knowledge—not just for the sake of their quest, but perhaps, for the simple pleasure of her company.

As Rob ascended the stairs, Julia began gathering the empty coffee mugs with an efficiency that spoke of routine. She gave Sam and Dean a quick, playful grin. "I'll just drop these off in the kitchen, then we can dive into the research. Hope you're ready for a bit of a deep dive," she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of excitement about the task ahead. She turned on her heel, the cups clinking softly as she vanished down the hall.

Dean watched her go, an appreciative gleam in his eye. Sam, catching this all-too-familiar look, turned his entire body to face his brother, his expression a blend of warning and wisdom.

"Dean, I'm gonna say this once: tread carefully, man," Sam advised, leaning in slightly to emphasize his point.

Dean turned to his brother, feigning innocence. "What are you talking about, Sammy?"

Sam fixed Dean with a knowing look, the kind that only a lifetime of brotherhood could perfect. "Julia. I see that look in your eyes," he cautioned, his voice serious but not unkind.

A roguish smirk danced across Dean's face, his thoughts lingering on the spark he'd felt during their brief interactions. "Can't help it if there's a mutual spark. And come on, Sam—she's smart, she's into Zeppelin, and she's got that whole natural beauty thing going on. It's not just me," Dean defended with a casual shrug, trying to brush off the gravity of Sam's warning with his characteristic nonchalance.

Julia reemerged with a swift grace, pausing at the doorway, her demeanor alight with the thrill of sharing her world. The excitement seemed to emanate from her, an infectious energy that promised revelations and secrets held within her scholarly trove. As Sam and Dean stood, ready to be led into her realm of research, Sam's encouragement was both genuine and anticipatory.

"Rob mentioned you're quite the expert. Can't wait to see the treasures you've been working on," he said, his kind smile acknowledging her expertise.

Julia's response was tinged with humility and appreciation. "That's really nice of you to say," she replied, leading the way up the stairs with a lightness in her step that suggested she was as eager to share as they were to learn.

Reaching the second-floor landing, they were greeted by the impressive sight of a bookshelf that seemed to serve both as a doorway and a guardian of knowledge. Passing through the archway, both Winchesters couldn't help but pause, struck by the beauty of the room that unfolded before them.

They were surrounded by the warmth of aged wood and the silent stories of countless tomes. A built-in window seat nestled against a bay window offered a view of the soft purple wisteria blossoms framing the glass. The room was steeped in the warmth of vintage charm and the whispered stories of countless books. The walls are lined with towering shelves, crafted from dark, polished wood that gleams under the soft golden hue of strategically placed lamps. Each shelf is a testament to a bibliophile's passion, densely packed with books of varying sizes, their spines creating a colourful mosaic that speaks to years of collection and care.

In one corner, a plush armchair sits invitingly, upholstered in a rich, patterned fabric that echoes the bygone era of Victorian elegance. Next to it, a small table holds a crystal decanter of amber liquid and matching glasses, alongside a pile of well-thumbed novels, suggesting a perfect nook for sipping and reading. The heavy curtains pulled back from a large window allow the gentle light to filter in, casting a serene glow over the scene.

Despite the room's orderly foundations, there's a deliberate messiness to it that adds character. Stacks of books and papers teeter precariously on every available surface, including the floor, where a worn Persian rug lays as a testament to the many hours spent lost in literature. The desk is a landscape of creative chaos, with open books, notes scribbled on loose papers, and a vintage typewriter pushed to one side to make room for a modern laptop, showing the blend of old and new.

Unique artifacts are nestled among the books: a vintage globe, a brass telescope, and curious trinkets like skulls and antique scissors, each with its own untold backstory. The space is a sanctuary of knowledge, history, and personal quirks, inviting you to explore its depths, both literary and personal.

As Julia completed a graceful pirouette, her arms outstretched to present the room, her eyes met theirs with a spark of shared understanding. "This is where the magic happens," she declared, her smile as genuine as the passion that clearly fueled her pursuit of knowledge. The invitation was clear, and the Winchesters stepped into her world, ready to be enchanted by the magic of her making.

The effervescent joy Julia exuded was infectious, and Dean found himself basking in a reflected glow of happiness as he watched her navigate the room. He leaned against the doorway, observing her as she gathered an armful of papers and books, her movements a dance of efficiency amid the charming chaos. With a deft hand, she rehomed the collected clutter atop another table already brimming with the weight of research.

"Here," she sang out, her voice carrying the lightness of a melody, as she flitted from one end of the room to the other, her presence transforming the space into something ethereal. She was like a sprite in her own domain, orchestrating the energy of the room with every sweep of her arm.

Sam and Dean approached the cleared chairs with a hint of hesitation, not wanting to disturb the artful disorder of her workspace. They settled into the seats, and Julia paused in her bustling, resting a hand on the back of Dean's chair. For a moment, she stood still, lost in thought, and Dean found himself enveloped in the subtle scent that clung to her—pistachio, perhaps, and something sweetly salted, like caramel. It was warm and inviting, and his heart thrummed a little faster in his chest as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Julia's contemplative silence broke, and she turned her gaze to meet Sam's, her expression earnest. "I have a lot of material on the Wendigo—notes, theories, patterns. John had me assist him with something else, too," she confided, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "But before I share anything, you have to promise not to tell my dad. He tends to be... overly protective about certain things."

Her eyes lingered on Sam, seeking an assurance of confidentiality, an unspoken pact between them. Dean felt a tug of curiosity, an eagerness to delve into the knowledge she held, and he nodded in silent agreement, keenly aware of the trust she was placing in their hands.

Sam met Julia's earnest gaze, understanding the gravity of her request. He nodded, a silent promise etched into the gesture. "You have our word, Julia. Whatever you share with us stays between us," Sam assured her, his tone underscored with the seriousness of a sworn oath.

Dean, who had been momentarily caught in the sensory spell of Julia's presence, now anchored himself in the moment, the importance of her trust not lost on him. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with hers, reinforcing the vow. "We've kept secrets bigger than a bunker," he said, a soft, conspiratorial edge to his voice. "Your research is safe with us."

Julia, seemingly satisfied with their assurance, pulled a deep breath before she began, her eyes momentarily flitting to the ceiling as if gathering the threads of her thoughts. "Okay," she started, her voice now a hushed whisper, "John and I were looking into some lore—old, obscure stuff, not just your run-of-the-mill monster tales. It's about something much older, something he was tracking long before the Wendigo."

The room seemed to hold its breath as Julia spoke, the brothers leaning in, captivated by the prelude to secrets yet untold. The promise they had made bound them to this space, to the words that were about to unfold, weaving them into the fabric of Julia's clandestine work.

With the silence of one well-versed in the quietude of libraries, Julia drifted towards the bay window, her figure briefly silhouetted against the gentle light. She took a swift left into a nook, where a ceiling-high cupboard was nestled like a secret chamber within the room. Sam and Dean sat in anticipation, their ears tuned to the soft hum of her tune, punctuated by the rustle of papers as she rummaged within the cupboard's depths.

The cupboard doors clicked shut, and Julia returned to the table, her arms wrapped around a thick brown accordion folder that seemed to challenge her with its heft. With careful steps, she approached, placing the folder on the table before sliding into the last remaining chair—inevitably, the one next to Dean.

As she scooted her chair in, the proximity brought a subtle contact; her knee brushed against Dean's, a fleeting touch that sent a heightened awareness coursing through him. Julia opened the folder with a sense of ceremony, unleashing a cascade of notebooks and papers, each leaf carrying the weight of diligent inquiry.

Sam immediately delved into one of the notebooks, his eyes scanning the bubbly script and the stark sketches that accompanied the text. Dean, however, remained focused on Julia, his curiosity piqued not just by the research but by the researcher herself.

"So, what was it my dad had you digging into?" Dean inquired, his voice low and earnest, inviting confidence.

Julia's gaze lifted to meet his, a current of intensity passing between them. "A demon," she began, her voice barely above a murmur, as if the very word might invoke the creature's attention. Her eyes flicked to Sam's, ensuring she had both brothers' undivided attention, before she continued, "The Yellow-Eyed Demon."

To be continued . . .

Chapter Two

[chrissturnslovergirlx]

period panic - a nick sturniolo short

a/n: requested by anon; lowercase intended

cw: periods, bleeding

summary: when the youngest sturniolo gets an unexpected surprise, nick is there to help and comfort her along with someone else

y/n had been excited about spending the day with her family and some friends of theirs. it was a sunny saturday in boston, and her triplet brothers chris, matt and nick had invited her along for a day of walking in the woods with their friend nate.

as the group reached the halfway point of their walking trail, y/n felt a sudden, cramping pain in her lower abdomen. she knew what it meant, and panic washed over her. her period had arrived unexpectedly, and she wasn't prepared for it. trying to stay calm, she discreetly messaged nick. nick and y/n had a close and special bond where they could both rely on each other for almost anything and everything, including this moment in time. 

"hey, can we talk?" y/n’s text read, and she watched her phone anxiously, hoping he would notice it soon.

nick checked his phone when he felt the vibration. he saw y/n’s message and furrowed his brows, realizing something was wrong. he excused himself from the group, claiming he needed to tie his shoelaces.

y/n’s heart raced as nick joined her, tears welled up in her eyes. 

“hey, hey, hey! what’s wrong? are you okay? did you hurt yourself? did something scare you? what’s going on?”

“nick, i got my period, and i don't have any supplies with me."

nick’s eyes softened with understanding.

"it’s okay, y/n. we’ll figure this out. let’s get you what you need." 

he looked around and saw one of his younger brothers, matt, nearby. 

"matt, can you come here for a sec?"

matt approached, curious, and nick quickly explained the situation in hushed tones. y/n felt embarrassed, but nick and matt’s reassuring presence put her at ease.

matt, without hesitation, offered to lend his hoodie to y/n, so she could tie it around her waist for some makeshift coverage. nick assured her they'd find a way to leave discreetly. the three of them walked back to the group, y/n now wearing matt’s hoodie, and made up an excuse to leave early.

as they headed back down the trail, y/n’s anxiety began to dissipate. the brothers, sensing her discomfort, shared stories and jokes to distract her. nick held her hand and began to comfort her some more.

“there’s no need to be embarrassed by what just happened. we’re your brothers, you can tell absolutely everything. unless it’s about your boyfriend’s sex drive, we definitely don’t need to know about that one!”

by the time they reached the car, y/n was feeling more comfortable and grateful for the support of her boyfriend and his brothers. they made a quick stop at a store to pick up the necessary supplies, and she couldn't help but smile at the thoughtfulness of the brothers who had comforted her in her time of need. it was an unexpected twist in their adventure, but it made her feel even closer to not only nick, but to matt as well.

[queerliblib]

anyone heard of QT Library??!? got any physical queer books that need a new home?

@qtlibrary is a new lending library & sober space in Boston, and they’re currently building up their collection! You can learn how to donate here.

QLL may be a fully digital library but we love our sibling physical queer library spaces too~

[trexrecs]

STUCKY FIC REC

When you stop being a ghost in a shell by @bittersweet-in-boston

MCU: Steve/ Bucky, 12k, E, Hydra Steve Rogers

This fic is beautiful and heart-rending. It appears to have been very well researched (I know very little about the topic) and that really lends a great air of immersion.

At 12k, the fic is relatively sparse, especially considering the story it tells spans the majority of a century, and that sparseness makes it all the more poignant.

It's such a gorgeous piece, and it really captures the heart of Stucky; the characters’ endless drive to reunite.

[beardedmrbean]

What’s an acceptable tip for a driver who delivers a $20 pizza?

A TikTok video purporting to show a DoorDash delivery driver in Texas swearing at a customer over the $5 tip she gave him has gone viral, sparking fresh online debate over tipping culture in the U.S.

“I just want to say it’s a nice house for a $5 tip,” the driver can be heard saying as he walks away from a home in the door camera video posted to TikTok earlier this week by a user under the name Lacey Purciful.

“You’re welcome!” the resident says, appearing surprised by the remark. “F--- you,” the driver responds before walking away.

“So how much should I be tipping for a $20 pie?” Purciful, who, in a separate post said she herself has worked in the service industry for over 10 years and tips “very well,” wrote in a caption.

Purciful, who did not immediately respond to an overnight request for comment from NBC News, said the driver was fired by DoorDash following the incident.

A DoorDash spokesperson confirmed that the worker had been removed from their platform. They said the company had also reached out to the customer regarding the incident.

“Respectfully asking for a tip is acceptable but abusing or harassing someone is never acceptable,” the spokesperson said.

“Our rules exist to help ensure everyone who uses our platform — Dashers, customers, merchants — have a safe and enjoyable experience,” they said. “We expect everyone to treat others with respect and we will enforce our rules fairly and consistently.”

The video added fuel to a growing debate in the U.S. over tipping culture, with some complaining current trends may have reached a tipping point.

“Tipping is out of control,” one social media user said, commenting on the video. They said they felt $5 for a $20 order was “more than” enough.”

“I doordash and most (not all) pizza delivery orders don’t tip. That was a Rockstar tip,” another user said.

Not everyone agreed, however, with some branding Purciful a “Karen” for contacting DoorDash over the incident.

One poster said they felt the driver should not have lost their job over the exchange, writing: “What he said was not right, but he didn’t have to lose job over it. Everyone is trying to make a living.”

Another commenter noted that the driver may have been concerned about mileage, writing: “Maybe $5 wasn’t enough.”

The COVID-19 pandemic brought consumer willingness to give tips, particularly during times of hardship, into fresh focus, with many ponying up to pay higher gratuities during the crisis, according to research.

Figures provided earlier this year to NBC News by payment processor Square showed the frequency of gratuities at full-service restaurants grew 17% in the fourth quarter last year from the same period in 2021. Meanwhile, tip frequency at quick-service restaurants, such as coffee shops and fast-food chains, rose 16%, according to the company’s data.

The apparent rise in tipping came despite a period of record inflation, which has eaten away at many consumers’ discretionary income.

While the pandemic appeared to spur widespread changes in tipping culture, the growing use of point-of-service, or POS systems, to process payments also appear to have made it easier than ever for customers to provide — and for businesses to ask for — tips.

In a survey of restaurant executives by industry group Hospitality Technology, 71% of respondents said using data to “understand guest preferences and behavior” was their primary reason for facilitating POS system upgrades, while for 57% enabling new payment options was the priority.

A recent Lending Tree survey found that 60% of Americans felt they were tipping more, NBC Boston reported. Around 24% said they felt pressured to tip when the option was presented, while 41% said they had changed their buying habits due to gratuity expectations and 60% felt tipping expectations had gotten out of hand. _________________

Door dash fired him, your opinion on tips aside that's not how you act to customers unless they are directly rude to you.

[slowmo-yo-yo]

Pondering chuckwill during spooky season BC ITS THAT TIME OF THE YEAR!! I remember spending like a good bit of time just thinking abt chuckwill couples costumes last year and I didn’t rlly land on anything and realized it’s because as cute as it sounds I don’t think they’d be the type of couple to go all out with halloween coustumes on their own (cause they’re lame and old and would rather spend halloween at home eating candy and cuddling then getting plastered in a stupid costume at a stuffy bar). The few times they do try to do some kind of couples coustume, they’re either peer pressured by the guys or I’m picturing much later post canon, Billy’s kids urge them to dress up and go trick or treating with them and they relent cause they love them to death. Like they need to be peer pressured.

I’m sure they did a fair bit of trick or treating as kids with Morgan and Billy, running around with bed sheets over their heads or an old Micheal Myers mask, etc, rounding up candy with pillow cases and hitting neighborhoods in Boston that handed out bigger and better candy. Will having nothing to wear because it’s not like any of his foster homes kept any kind of Halloween costume and Chuckie, in typical chuckie fashion, lends him an older costume from his attic to wear so he’s not left out. Eventually they grow out of it, as one does, and it just becomes ‘that thing we did back then’. I can see the guys in in canon in their 20s just buying a bag of candy, sitting at the bar, getting wasted and eating handfuls of it to the point where they’re throwing up outside the bar and leaving with a strong distaste for any and all candy. But in terms of costumes they’re not going all out unless it’s demanded of them.

I also think they’re big fans of less is more, so they’re always on the lookout for coustumes that are just like some guy in a jacket in jeans cause again they’re a lil lazy like that. I DO SEE THEM HOWEVER going all out ONE year. It’s super random and no one sees it coming but they do some kind of big jaw dropping couples costume that blows everyone’s socks off. They don’t tell anyone but it’s specially for one of Billy’s kids who requested they dress up and of course being the cool awesome uncles they are blow it out of the park. They decorate their front porch, they carve pumpkins with the McBrides, handing out candy at the door and making sure they buy the big bars too because they can do that now and it feels good to be the house with the big candy bars that all the kids flock to, be the change you want to see the world and all that.

I also just think that it’s another reminder of how far they’ve come together that they can really celebrate this holiday. Past halloweens being spend just trying to keep eachother safe and alive while Will was still in foster care, not being able to celebrate halloween because financial stability is a luxury that not all kids laying brick in Boston can afford. Flash forward 20 years, they somehow they managed to confess the painfully obvious as sweaty, gross, flustered Bostonians in love with eachother and promptly started building a life together. Married and sharing their lives, celebrating a holiday that they typically overlook with their closet friends and family because despite EVERYTHING, despite all the world threw at them, they finally made it, and they made it as one.

Hopping on the sap train BC THIS IS MY BLOG, and I know I always somehow find a way to circle back to the whole “middle aged chuckwill does thing and it means a lot because they couldn’t have done thing when they were kids but now they can afford to spoil eachother and celebrate holidays cause they’re happy and settled” BUT I CANT HELP IT😿 I feel like every major holiday spent together post them tying the knot is just one big sob fest because they’re both sentimental idiots and they realize the importance of something like spending a holiday together without having to worry about how they’re gonna get by, because they’re ok and they’ve never been better.

THINKING ABOUT THIS RESPONSE FROM SNAIL FROM A MILLION YERS AGO because it makes my heart melt and it’s very relevant to the theme of this post lolz😋 older chuckwill will always have a place in my heart forever:))