#egg whole sale

[ahqkas]

“CRY BABY — jason todd.

PAIRING ! jason todd 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS! your boyfriend’s here, doesn’t matter if you need him during an important task. you need him now so that’s what he does; he shows up. WORD COUNT! 2.6k WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, mention of reader’s hair + lmk if more found ! NOTES! based on this req.!! header bellow belongs to @/v6que © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE GROCERY STORE WAS UNUSUALLY CROWDED FOR A FRIDAY EVENING, the fluorescent lights overhead buzzing faintly as you shuffled through the small grocery shop. You grabbed a cart and slowly pushed it past the holiday display at the entrance. The pine garlands and cinnamon-scented candles filled the air with cheerfulness of the holidays that felt out of place for your mood. The day had been fine, but a little . . . heavy, like the edges of everything you did were frayed. Shopping for groceries was supposed to be routine, calming even, but tonight it felt more like a chore.

You started in the produce section, eyeing the dark red apples stacked neatly in pyramids. Jason liked apples, especially sliced up with peanut butter, and you didn’t have any at home. You grabbed a few, along with a small bag of clementines—they were on sale, and the idea of peeling one later sounded comforting. You added some spinach to the cart, though you weren’t ure what you’d do with it yet.

The next aisle had the coffee and teas. You hesitated in front of the shelves, scanning for Jason’s favorite blend. He always said he didn’t care what kind of coffee it was as long as it had caffeine, but you knew he liked the dark roast with the smoky flavor. So, you grabbed a bag and tossed it into the cart before picking up a box of black tea for yourself.

In the dairy section, you grabbed a carton of eggs and some milk, along with a tub of the fancy Greek yogurt Jason pretended to hate but always ate half of when you weren’t looking. You added a block of cheddar cheese too, because he always complained when you didn’t have any “real cheese” in the fridge.

Finally, you grabbed a loaf of bread and a box of pasta before heading to the candy aisle. You’d been eyeing the peppermint bark in the holiday section earlier but didn’t grab it. Now you plucked a small bar of it off the shelf and dropped it into the cart. A little indulgence couldn’t hurt.

The cart wasn’t full, but it was enough. Enough to get through the week, enough to stock your kitchen for the nights Jason decided to stay over and make himself at home. He didn’t live with you—not officially—but his presence lingered in your apartment like a second heartbeat.

You made my way to the registers, where the lines were moving slowly. It was late, but the store was still busy, the energy of people rushing to finish errands before closing time crackling faintly in the air. You took your place in line, watching other customers inch forward and fiddling with the edge of your scarf.

It wasn’t a bad day, you reminded yourself, just a heavy one. You would unload the groceries back at home, make some tea, and settle in for the evening. Maybe you’d call Jason later, hear his voice and let the rough warmth of it carry you into something softer. The thought made the corner of your mouth twitch up in the faintest smile. And maybe he could even stop by, spend the night.

That thought warmed your heart.

The line at the register moved slower than you expected, giving you too much time to stand there, awkwardly fiddling with your scarf and glancing at your cart. The apples and kettle chips sat next to each other, an odd little pairing that made you think of your boyfriend. He’d swipe one of each, snack in hand, smirking like he’d outsmarted the whole grocery system.

Finally, your turn came, and you pushed the cart forward. The cashier was a lanky teenager with a mop of greasy hair tucked under his name-tagged baseball cap. His name tag read Trevor, but his expression read bored in bold letters. He glanced up at you briefly, his eyes darting over your cart with the kind of disdain only a teenager could muster before going back to his phone.

“Hey,” you greeted the kid politely, smiling despite yourself as you began unloading your groceries onto the conveyor belt.

“Yeah, hey,” Trevor muttered, clearly distracted as he shoved his phone into his pocket. He hit a button on the register with a little too much force and sighed loudly, like the very act of being here was an affront to his existence.

You handed over the loaf of bread first, thinking maybe you could set the pace for a smooth interaction. Trevor grabbed it and scanned it without a word.

“Paper or plastic?” he asked flatly, not bothering to meet your eyes.

“Um, paper, please.”

Trevor reached for the bags, shoving the bread in haphazardly before grabbing the apples next. The bag tipped slightly, the loaf threatening to crumple. You winced internally but said nothing, figuring it wasn’t worth the trouble.

As he scanned the rest of your items, you started to pull out your wallet. Your fingers fumbled for a moment as you searched for your debit card, the silence stretching uncomfortably.

“Do you, like, need the receipt?” Trevor mumbled under his nose, tossing it into the bag before you could answer.

“Um—yes, please,” you said quietly, slipping your card out of the wallet at last.

The teenager rolled his eyes, exhaling loudly. “Next time, maybe have it ready? Kinda holding up the line.”

The words hit you like a splash of cold water. You froze for a moment, face flushing as you quickly swiped your card through the reader. Your hand trembled just enough to make you fumble again, and you could feel the heat of embarrassment crawling up your neck.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, not daring to meet his eyes as you hurried to finish.

Trevor didn’t respond to you anymore. “Next!”

You grabbed your bags as quickly as you could, your vision blurring slightly as you turned away from the register. Your chest felt tight, the weight of the embarrassing moment pressing against the bones of your ribs as you hurried out of the store.

By the time you reached your parked car, the tension had built to a boiling point. You set the bags down in the passenger seat and slid into the driver’s seat, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The space felt safe, isolated from the world, and as soon as you were alone, the tears spilled over.

It wasn’t just the kid or his tone—it was everything. The way the week had dragged on endlessly, the tiny moments of frustration piling up like bricks until this one insignificant encounter became the tipping point.

You pressed your palms against the steering wheel, breathing uneven as the tears came in quiet, hot streams. They weren’t loud or desperate, just a release, a way to let go of the tension that had been weighing you down all day.

After a few minutes, the sobs subsided, leaving you feeling raw but lighter. You wiped at your face with your sleeve, sniffing softly as you leaned back against the headrest. The worst of it was over, but the ache lingered, a reminder of how fragile the balance could be sometimes. What you needed now was something solid, something warm to remind you the world wasn’t as heavy as it seemed.

Reaching for your phone, you scrolled through your contacts, thumb hovering over his name for a moment before you pressed it. The line rang twice before his voice came through, low and rough but tinged with familiarity and care. Jason always had a way of grounding you, his voice a tether when the world felt too loud.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, his tone already softer than usual. “What’s going on?”

And just like that, the weight in your chest started to ease.

“Hi,” you said, the word wobbling despite your best effort. “Are you busy?”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that told you he’d caught on. Jason’s voice shifted, quieter but firm, like a hand on your shoulder. “No, I’m not busy. You okay? You sound . . . upset.”

You hesitated, the urge to downplay it bubbling up. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, though you knew it wasn’t convincing. “Just . . . had a moment. Nothing big, I promise.”

“Sweetheart,” Jason interrupted gently, his voice like a steady anchor. “Don’t do that thing where you act like it doesn’t matter. Talk to me.”

You sighed, resting your head against the window now. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “It’s stupid. A cashier was kind of rude, and it just . . . got to me. I cried about it in the car, and I feel better now, but I guess I just—” Your voice cracked, and you exhaled shakily. “I wanted to hear you.”

Jason didn’t respond right away, but the silence wasn’t heavy. It was the kind of pause that said he was listening, thinking about the best way to hold you from a distance. When he spoke again, his tone was warm and firm, a voice that could steady mountains.

“First of all, it’s not stupid,” he said. “People can be jerks, and it’s okay to feel what you feel. You don’t have to justify that to me—or to anyone.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. He always had a way of cutting through the noise in your head, finding the simplest truth in it all. “Thanks,” you murmured.

“Where are you?” he asked. “Still in the car?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “Just . . . sitting in the parking lot.”

He hummed softly, the sound almost like a purr through the receiver. “Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. Take a deep breath for me—nice and slow. Can you do that?”

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you. “Yeah,” you said softly, following his instruction. The air filled your lungs like it hadn’t in hours, grounding you.

“Good,” Jason praised. “Now, I’m on my way to you. Sit tight, and don’t you dare think about apologizing for needing me.”

“Jason,” you started, but he cut you off.

“Don’t ‘Jason’ me, sweetheart. You’re my girl. That means if you need me, I’m there. Simple as that.”

The lump in your throat returned, but this time, it was different—softer, less heavy. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“Always,” he replied, and you could hear the faint sound of him grabbing his keys. “Now stay where you are. I’ll be there soon. And when I get there, I’m giving you a hug so big, you’re gonna forget what the cashier even looked like.”

You laughed softly, the warmth of it surprising you. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Jason said, his voice lighter now. “I’ll see you soon, baby. Just hang tight for me.”

The call ended, and though the ache hadn’t fully disappeared, it was quieter now, tempered by the knowledge that he was coming. Jason didn’t just make the world feel manageable—he made it feel safe, like no matter how overwhelming the little things got, he’d always be there to pull you back to solid ground.

Ten minutes later, a sharp, sudden knock on the car window startled you out of your thoughts. You jumped in the seat, heart leaping into your throat as you turned to look—and there he was, standing outside in the cold, his broad shoulders hunched slightly against the wind. Jason’s cheeks and nose were flushed a soft pink from the winter air, and he had one hand shoved into the pocket of his leather jacket, the other gesturing for you to roll the window down.

You blinked, processing his presence as he gave you a small, crooked smile through the glass. “Come on, sweetheart,” he called, his voice muffled but still rich and warm, like it carried all the heat you’d been missing. “You gonna let me freeze out here or what?”

Scrambling, you fumbled with the controls and rolled the window down halfway. “Jason? What are you doing here?” Your voice wavered between shock and something lighter, something closer to relief.

He gave a soft huff, his breath visible in the cold air. “You really think I was just gonna sit around after that phone call? Get outta the car, baby.”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the earlier tears still clinging to you, but his steady gaze left no room for argument. With a sigh, you grabbed your scarf and pushed the door open, stepping out into the biting cold.

As soon as you were standing in front of him, Jason’s hands found your shoulders, his touch firm but gentle as he guided you closer towards him. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and earnest, his green eyes scanning your face like he was trying to read all the parts of you you hadn’t said aloud.

You nodded, but the way your chin trembled betrayed me. “I’m fine,” I responded quietly, even though the words felt flimsy. “I was feeling better after we talked, really. You didn’t have to come all the way out here—”

Jason cut you off with a soft, knowing sound, one of his hands moving to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch lingered, his knuckles warm against your cheek. “Yeah, I did,” his tone left no room for debate.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the cold wrapping around you but unable to penetrate the bubble of warmth his presence created. His thumb grazed your cheekbone, and you realized you had been leaning into his hand without thinking.

“You’ve been crying,” he said softly, the observation carrying no judgment, only quiet understanding. “You don’t have to pretend with me, y’know. Not ever.”

The lump in your throat returned, but it was smaller now, manageable. You took a shaky breath and gave him a faint smile. “I just felt stupid crying over something so little. I didn’t want to bother you.”

Jason’s brows knit together, his expression turning almost stern. “Hey,” he exclaimed, tilting your chin up so you had to meet his eyes. “Your feelings aren’t little. And I told you—no matter what, I’m here. You don’t bother me, alright?”

You nodded, swallowing hard as the weight of his words settled over you like a blanket. His sincerity had a way of melting through all the self-doubt you carried, leaving only the quiet reassurance of his steady presence.

“Good,” he said after a moment, his hand dropping to take yours instead. He laced your fingers together, his grip firm and grounding. “Now, give me your keys.”

You blinked up at him. “What?”

He smirked, his nose still adorably rosy from the cold. “You’re not driving, sweetheart. Not when you’ve had a day like this. I’m taking you home.”

“You didn’t bring your bike?” you teased faintly, trying to lighten the mood.

Jason snorted. “In this weather? Hell no. Now quit stalling and hand ’em over.”

Reluctantly, you pulled the keys from your pocket and dropped them into his waiting hand. He gave you an approving nod before tugging you toward the passenger side door.

“Come on,” he said, opening it for you like the gentleman he only pretended not to be. “Get in. I’ll crank the heat for you.”

As you slid into the seat, Jason closed the door behind you and walked around to the driver’s side, his movements easy and confident despite the chill. When he settled in and started the car, the warmth of the heater began to fill the space, and for the first time that evening, you felt completely safe.

Jason reached over, brushing his hand across your thigh in a gesture so casual yet intimate it made your chest ache. “See? Already better,” he said, glancing at you with a lopsided grin.

And as the car pulled away from the parking lot, the groceries safely tucked in the back and Jason by your side, you couldn’t help but think he was right.

[dwaekkicidal]

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: '𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖱𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗑' ༄࿔ H.H.

⤷ Massages | Hand Kink | Breath Play

♱ word count: 2.7k

♱ warnings: fem!reader, “happy ending” massage, hand kink, fingering, choking, multiple orgasms (just 2), unprotected p in v, creampie

♱ notes: honestly really tame compared to the others... i was trying so hard not to make him into mean dom lol ALSO im posting this really late in the day compared to the others so i apologize lol

not proofread thoroughly (sorry hehe)

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Your head is throbbing and your eyes are drying up the longer you sit at your desk. Not a single concept from the last 2 units you read had made sense in your head, and you could barely remember the last sentence you just read.

Thanks to the constant stress you had been under from school, you had a horrible headache and couldn’t stop your leg from bouncing. You needed a break. And luckily for you, a new spa had opened up in your area that was having a “Grand Opening Sale.”

Which is what inevitably led you to your current state; lying face down on top of the comfortable padded table and staring down into the dark brown wood of the floor. Your masseur, a beautiful man named ‘Hyunjin’ had his back to you while his equally beautiful hands jumped around between warming up the oil and putting on music.

The snap of a bottle cap opening was heard and he soon drizzled warmed oil all over your back. You sighed happily at the warmth alone, but even more so when his long fingers began to smear the slippery substance all over your skin that he could get to.

And just like that, he worked his way around your achy body. His beautiful hands worked out each and every knot. The initial awkwardness had completely disappeared and was replaced with exhaustion as he worked his way around your torso muscles like some sort of muscle angel sent from above.

His hand worked wonders on your tense body and the warmed oil helped with breaking down your tension. So much so that you found yourself getting too relaxed. Too comfortable and too attracted to the man above you who was currently easing your body into what you swore was some sort of heaven.

Between the very attractive man behind you easing away the last few months' worth of stress and the constant reminder of his godly hands all over your body, your whole being starts to ache with need. So much so that your legs shake from the way you have to stop them from pressing together.

Your mind wanders on its own and the sound of his breathing is enough to set you off. He gets to a particularly rough spot on your back and you bite your lip hard in order to hide the sexual moan that was about to leave your mouth.

A huff leaves his lips and you’re unsure of what context it's under, though you’re quick to learn that he’s very aware of your body’s reactions to him. He finds it amusing and eggs you on further, moving his hands up to your shoulders and squeezing the flesh there extra tenderly and rubbing circles into the nape of your neck.

You start to wonder if his fingers are also this talented with- “Can you flip over for me?”

“Huh?” His husky voice hits you right in your pussy and it takes a moment to process what he says. He tilts his head playfully when you look back at him and repeats himself again, eyes staring into your soul as he does so. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and nodded slowly, waiting for him to turn around to flip your body.

Once you give him the ok, he turns back around to you and meets your eyes, smiling sweetly as he moves to stand over you. He wastes no time and sets his hands on your legs, working his way up slowly but surely as he continues his job and his goal.

And that goal would be exactly what led his hands to your thighs, squeezing the flesh there even after he had worked his way through all the knots. He smiles to himself when your eyes squeeze shut and your legs shake with that movement, so he does it again. This time much higher up on your thigh.

Your legs finally squeeze shut, trapping his hands between your legs and you gasp. He laughs to himself when you spit out an apology and shakes his head, rubbing your thigh with his thumb as he keeps his hands where they are, even after you release them.

“Is this ok?” He stares into your eyes and waits patiently for a response, not daring to make any more moves while he waits. You think for a moment as you stare back into his eyes and eventually nod, spreading your legs just the slightest bit more and waiting for him to make his next move.

He throws you a sexy smirk and proceeds with his movements, now growing bold enough to slip them over the small towel that covers your lower half. One of his long fingers traces around your hole, dipping in just the tiniest amount, and pulls back out to trace your clit with your wetness.

“So wet already.” He chuckles and leans forward, planting his free hand by your face as he leans in to kiss your cheek. As he does, he inserts his finger inside of you. It moves around expertly, curving just slightly into your walls looking for your G-spot, and thrusting at a speed that was too slow and just enough at the same time.

“Please, more…” You whine and squirm, looking up at him under your lashes with puppy eyes in hopes that it would convince him. But he doesn’t need much convincing when you look so pretty below him. So he listens immediately and inserts a second finger.

They work in tandem to build you up, finally finding your G-spot and curling into it repeatedly while now moving at a faster pace, one that’s less torturous but still doesn’t feel like enough. You spread your legs further apart and lean up to rest on your elbows, your forehead almost knocking his in the process.

He laughs under his breath at your eagerness and continues his ministrations as he holds eye contact with you, eyes dark and a sexy smile on his face. Your desperateness is adorable to him and he can’t help but give in, adding a third finger while keeping up his pace.

“What got you so riled up, Angel?” He tilts his head at you and leans forward more, pushing his forehead against yours. You moan desperately and grind your hips forward, sucking his fingers in even deeper. “Answer me and I’ll give you everything you want.” You look up at him from under your eyelashes and clench at the lust-dripping look he gives you.

“I just think your hands and your fingers are really pretty…” One of his eyebrows perks up in curiosity before a giant grin spreads across his face.

“Yeah?” His voice drops a few octaves and his biceps flex as he shoves his fingers into the knuckles. “These fingers?” He punctuates his sentence with a tight curl of his fingers against your G-spot and your eyes roll into the back of your head. He watches with a smile as you throw your head back and your jaw slacks. He leans forward and takes advantage of the new space, leaving wet, sloppy kisses all over your neck.

He’s careful not to leave marks as he does so, even pulling away sometimes to coo in your ear and tell you to keep your eyes on his hand or else he’ll stop. And you obey, eyes glued to his wrist and watching the way his veins pop out each time he curls his fingers. It makes you clench more around him and you can feel your orgasm building up even faster now.

“You wanna cum, Angel?” His deep voice makes your jaw drop and your leg attempt to twitch closed. His smile never falters but he tsks when you don’t answer the question. He bottoms out his fingers all the way and stops all movements, eyes glued to yours as he repeats his question. 

“Y-Yes! I wanna cum, please-” His fingers pick up their pace immediately and he fixes his posture, freeing up his left hand in favor of reaching between your legs. His thumb messily plays with your clit as he fingerfucks you and you keen.

It doesn’t take long for you to unravel, your gummy walls sucking him in further and your clit throbbing as you finish with a loud moan of his name. He chuckles and removes his thumb, moving his hand up to your mouth and shoving his thumb into your cheek.

“Shhhh… We don’t want anybody getting suspicious, do we?” You don’t bother replying. Instead, you throw your head back and grind your hips forward as he continues to ride out your orgasm. Once your legs start to close around his torso, he eases his fingers out of you, reveling in the way they shimmer from your release.

His touch leaves you completely as his hand rests on his upper thigh, the other one moving up to his face where he sucks his pointer finger clean. You watch through fluttering eyelids as he closes his eyes and moans around his finger, even going as far as to make an obscene smacking noise as he releases it.

Your eyes meet again and he smiles before licking his lips and tilting his head at you. “Be good and open your mouth for me.” You comply in an instant and his lip twitches, he has to bite his lip to hide his smirk.

He holds eye contact with you as he reaches forward. Once his hand is close enough, his eyes move down to watch his middle and ring finger tracing the outline of your lips. The sight of him paints your lips with your own release, giving you makeshift lip gloss if you will, makes him bite his lip.

Butterflies grow in your stomach at the sight and you take it a step further; leaning in, grabbing his wrist, and wrapping your lips around those same fingers. His smile falters and his eyes look to yours only to be met with an intense stare back. One that drives him absolutely mad and makes his dick twitch in his khakis.

He moans when his fingertips hit your throat and he feels his control leaving his body. A quiet curse leaves his mouth as he pulls his hand away from you, using the now “clean” hand to wrap around your throat as the other pops open the button on his pants.

“You’re so fucking hot- I need to be inside of you right now or else I’ll die.” You let out a giggle that eventually gets interrupted by a moan as he tightens his grip on you. Then again when he spins you and pulls you to the edge of the table before tapping his cock against your folds.

“Prettiest Angel I’ve ever seen… Gonna make you mine, baby. You want that?” You open your mouth to respond and he pushes his tip in at the same time, hand squeezing just the slightest amount more as he pushes inch by inch in.

He’s long and it feels like he’s in your guts when he finally bottoms out, his balls resting flat against your ass. The hand around your throat finally loosens its hold and you gasp for air, head throbbing as you catch your breath.

“H-Hyunjin…”

“Angel- You okay?” You nod and he simply hums in response leaning forward and unintentionally spreading your legs further so he can push his lips against yours. Almost instinctively you open your mouth for him and you can’t hold back a moan when his tongue pushes in.

He takes his time kissing you, allowing you some time to adjust to his size as he slowly grinds his hips against yours. His hands caress your arms soothingly before one rests on your neck, not quite squeezing but just resting there. The other traces your body, moving from your arm down your waist before finally stopping at your hips where he squeezes the flesh appreciatively. 

He squeezes one more time before planting his hand on the table next to your ass and reluctantly pulls away from your lips. Your own hands rest on his shoulders and your nails dig into his soft skin as he starts moving his hips.

“Give it to me, please” He moans and rolls his head back, hips stuttering as he processes what you’re requesting. He sighs deeply and sharply thrusts into you before shaking his head.

“Mm-mm… I’ll fuck your brains out next time. Just relax, Angel. I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow.” You whine loudly and pout up at him but nod your head when the hand on your neck cups your cheek.

His lips push against yours again as he caresses your cheek, and when he pulls away a smile paints his features. He can’t deny you when you look up at him so desperately, so he allows some leeway. His hips start moving, not as slowly as he wanted but just enough to make you shiver deliciously.

He fucks into you with sharp, yet thorough thrusts all while having the cutest smile on his face. And contrary to his facial expression, he’s mixing your guts around each time his hips meet yours, and his hand returns to your neck where it rips the air out of your lungs.

Quiet, breathy gasps leave your mouth as he fucks you silly, not even needing to pound you roughly to make you see stars. It makes you dizzy as you briefly think about this “next time” he speaks about. If this isn’t him fucking you dumb then you can’t wait to see what he has in store for you.

But none of that matters now. Not when he uses the hold on your neck to push you down onto the table. He has to release you to do so and traces his hand up your torso right after. The towel on your chest is long gone, half hanging off the table as it squeaks from his movements, and gives him free reign to rub your nipples softly.

Then his hand moves back up to your neck, this time only ghosting over it before you hear a choked command to “Open.” You do open your lips, but it’s only to ask what he means. However, you don’t get that far.

The same fingers you sucked clean minutes ago thrust suddenly into your mouth, pressing down against your tongue and making you gag. He laughs and apologizes, pulling them out just enough to not cause you to gag again.

He licks his lips as you suck the digits, swirling your tongue around them in a way he can only imagine you would do to his cock. The imagery of that alone is enough to push him closer to the edge, so he drags you to your own with him.

“Cum for me again- ok, Angel?” The fingers in your mouth pull out and rush to your clit where he rubs back and forth furiously. “Cum for me and we can get out of here.” He forces a smile through your tight cunt’s incessant sucking of him and quickens his thrusts.

Although sloppy and not as calculated as before, he manages to push you to cum alongside him, both his hips and his hands faltering as you milk him dry. He cums with a pretty moan, face scrunching up in pleasure and his still-clothed body shaking through it.

You’re not faring any better, your own face scrunched up and your body twitching from the overstimulation that starts to wrack through your body. You’re lucky he pulls away when he did because your body starts to tremble as he uses you to ride his orgasm out.

“You okay?” He’s still catching his breath but he pulls out and leans forward, his softening cock resting against your thigh as he places kisses all over your collarbone.

“Mhm…” You're not sure if you are even on the same planet as you were an hour ago, but he seems to be taking care of it as he helps you come down. His hands caressing your sides all over and his lips only leaving your skin to move to a new spot.

“Let’s get you out of here, yeah? My shift was supposed to end once this… ‘massage’ was over, so let me treat you.” He giggles at your mindless nod and cups your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb as he waits for you to come down.

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

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[darlingdaisyfarm]

texting Stan and Ford headcanons

smut version

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Stan Pines

✧ Stan is the kinda guy who thinks emojis are a scam, but somehow, he figured out how to use the "thumbs up" and "money bag" emoji. so, expect a lot of those in your chats.

✧ his text tone is rough, a little misspelled, typed like he's yelling even when he isn’t. Half of his texts are in all caps, and he absolutely does not care about grammar. but he gets the point across, always.

✧ you’re getting messages at 3 am about some ‘brilliant’ scheme to make a quick buck. he’ll send, “LISTEN, doll, what if we made... GIANT… glitter-filled eggs for easter? Tourists'll go NUTS." you reply, half-asleep, with “Stan, ily but go to bed." and all you get back is a “🤬 YOU GOTTA THINK BIGGER!”

✧ Stan sends those weird chain messages he swears are from some “hotshot businessman” that’ll make you rich in a week. and when you don’t respond immediately, you get a: “Fine, Miss Doubtful, see you when I’m rolling in gold.”

✧ there are whole days where he just floods your phone with random, blurry photos of some new Mystery Shack "artifact" he found. It’s usually junk he picked up at a garage sale, like a “haunted” ashtray or some knock-off painting that’s “probably ancient.”

✧ If he’s feeling sappy (and tipsy): you might get a rare “thinking bout you, sweet thing” at 2 am. but if you try to call him on it the next day, he’ll just be like “Didn’t say that. You’re makin’ stuff up.”

✧ when he’s really riled up about something, though? then his messages are just. . . a stream of caps-lock curses, mixed with misspelled attempts to describe whatever nonsense he just got himself into. you just sit back and let him rant; he’ll cool off eventually.

✧ and the voice messages are something else. they sound like he’s talking through a fan half the time. one minute, he’s rambling about how tourists are “the dumbest suckers on the planet” and the next, he’s ranting about how “bigfoot definitely broke into the shack last night!"

types of messages Stan texts: 

"So… whatcha wearin’? 😏"

“Hey doll, I just found a penny on the ground! Maybe today’s my lucky day… hint hint ;)"

"I’d say somethin’ romantic, but I think my brain just shorted out. You’re a little too cute for a guy like me."

"Just tried that new café downtown. Ordered coffee… tastes like they filtered it through someone’s laundry. You’d hate it. Wanna come mock it with me?"

"Not gonna lie, I miss that face of yours. So what’re we doin’ about it, huh?"

“Again missin’ that cute little smile of yours… maybe you could send me a pic to remind me?”

"Wanna help me scam the tourists today? I’ll split the loot with ya… maybe ;)”

"You wouldn’t believe what I caught Ford muttering in his sleep. Man’s like a walking encyclopedia, even when he’s unconscious."

“Got any plans later? Thought maybe we could… y’know… not have plans together."

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Ford Pines 

✧ hehehehe he’s like an old-school emailer who’s just now getting the hang of messaging apps. texts in complete sentences, full punctuation, like he’s drafting a dissertation.

✧ He sends you whole paragraphs at random hours, talking about some discovery he’s made, like he’s reporting directly to NASA. you’re like, “Ford, it's just a weird-looking squirrel." and he's already typing another essay about its "possible interdimensional origins."

✧ once in a while, he’ll send you a message that says, “Are you awake?” at, like 3 am followed by a string of thoughtful yet completely bonkers hypotheses. you find it cute, though, his mind never stops, not even for a second.

✧ If he’s feeling bold, you might even get a “hypothetical” confession out of him: “Hypothetically, if one were to develop... strong emotional attachment to a certain person... how would one proceed?" You tease him about it the next day, and he gets flustered, “It was purely scientific curiosity."

✧ Ford isn’t big on emojis, but he likes the brain and alien ones, using them poetically. he’ll sign off texts with a single brain emoji, like it’s his version of a little goodbye wave.

✧ on really rare occasions, he’ll send a voice message. they’re always way too long, and it’s usually him whispering so he doesn’t wake Stan up. he goes on about cosmic rays or “gravity anomalies,” his voice dropping lower when he gets excited. you live for those moments

✧ and if he ever texts you a “good night,” you just know he’s been up thinking about it for hours, trying to figure out if it’s “appropriate.”

types of messages Ford texts: 

“It’s been approximately 3 hours, 12 minutes, and 23 seconds since our last conversation… not that I’m counting or anything. Just… miss you."

sends a meme about science nerds “Us. But mostly me.”

“My hands ache from writing… though perhaps if it were writing about you, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Do you think about me too, or am I the only one utterly ruined by this… whatever this is?”

“I’ve been thinking about that book you lent me... 🤔 It’s honestly so much more interesting than I expected, thank you for recommending it."

"I don’t know how to work this... But I managed to send a meme! It’s not the worst thing I’ve done, I suppose? 

“I did it. I fixed the telescope. Finally. Now we can actually look at the stars like we’ve talked about. :)"

"I hope you’re feeling okay today. I noticed you seemed a little stressed the other day. Don’t forget to take care of yourself. :) It’s important."

"If I could rearrange the periodic table, I’d put U and I together. :( Sorry, nerdy joke... :’D)”

ps - I CANT THEYRE SO CUTE BOTH I WANT TO SMASH THEM AGAINST THE WALL

lmao if someone wants, i can write some spicy types of chatting with them :)))

[paleopinesofficial]

An important update to our Paleo Pines Community🦖💙😞

Transcript Below;

Paleo Pines Needs Your Help

A lot of you have been asking what’s next for Paleo Pines and we wanted to provide our community with an update on the challenges we are facing. The sad truth is, the future is uncertain. 

For the better part of this year we’ve been working behind the scenes to create a plan for the next iteration of Paleo Pines, filled with stunning new regions, quirky new NPCs, plenty more adorable dinosaurs, plus eggs, babies and - yes - multiplayer. The job after launch seemed simple - listen to our community, provide a roadmap full of updates and DLC to ensure that our players can continue to enjoy the existing world… and double-down on that enjoyment with the plan for bigger, better, shinier Paleo Pines for you to enjoy with friends and family.

We've been searching high and low for a production partner, one that felt your love and passion to help us bring the next Paleo Pines to life. On several occasions in our journey, we were within a few small steps of the finish line, only to have circumstances beyond our control cause the future to fall through.

This isn't happening just to us. It seems the whole indie game scene is facing a sudden drying up of publishing and investment opportunities. Thanks to the unwavering dedication of our small team and the massive love from all of you, we've been able to support the first year of Paleo Pines on a shoestring budget. 

We’ve managed to keep the lights on… until now. Unless we can find a partner who is keen to see the Paleo Pines universe grow, we won’t be able to keep our team together for much longer. 

So, we’re making our situation public. Here's how you can help:

Do you know a publisher/investor who would be a great partner for Paleo Pines 2? If you're a serious publisher or investor and are interested in seeing a production plan, financial model, game design document and more, please reach out to kevin@italicpig.com. (By the way, Paleo Pines isn’t the only property we’re working on... Our talented team has a diverse collection of small, medium and large scale projects, for PC, console and mobile. If you’re looking for something fun and a little bit different, get in here.)

Can you help in smaller ways? Every little bit helps! Here are a few ways you can directly support the devs:

Have you got our DLC yet? We've just released our very first Halloween DLCs – a great way to support us while getting more gameplay for yourself.

Still playing the demo? Are we on your Wishlist? Please consider buying the full game today, or in the next sale. We promise it'll bring you hours of dino-tastic joy! 

Befriend a Paleo Pines plushie. These adorable creatures aren't just cute, our portion of the sales goes towards development. Our latest, Boo, the albino Styracosaurus, is available now. Our previous plushies helped fund our new Halloween DLCs and free update.

Order Paleo Pines merchandise. We’ve got dozens of fun items celebrating your favourite dinos available in time for gifting this year.

Even if you can't offer financial support, you can still be a hero! Share this post with anyone who might be interested in helping. Wishlist us, buy the game, talk about how it makes you feel, and share share share. The power of community is real, and every share brings us closer to making more Paleo Pines!

The team here can't express enough gratitude to the incredible Paleo Pines community. You've been with us through every step of this amazing journey, from the demo launch to the release last September, and through our adorable plushie collaborations with Makeship. You've become more than players and we couldn't have imagined building this world with a kinder, more supportive group.

Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for supporting us on this roller coaster of a year since launch, and your patience and understanding with our current situation. Hopefully with your help, this won’t be the end of the Paleo Pines adventure.

Lots of love, The Paleo Pines Team

[garciaasfluffypen]

take care of me (like i take care of you) pt.1

pairing: jemily x adhd!reader word count: 2.4k warnings: emily smokes in this one (SMOKING IS DANGEROUS LADIES, GAYS AND THEYS pls dont ruin ur lungs), reader is mentioned to vape but it is not shown, female terms of endearment - "little miss", y/n has a minor flashback to a previous relationship where they got belittled that leads to an rsd breakdown a/n: THIS PART GOT TOO LONG AND I DIDNT EVEN GET TO THE MAIN PLOT POINT UNTIL 2.4k WORDS IN so its being split into two parts teehee :) also... i should have put this in the first part, but the house they live in is jj's house from cm evolution bc i'm quite literally obsessed with it anyway pls ignore the fact that it's clearly not three femme presenting humans holding hands i couldn't find a gif like that anywhere

you all had been blessed with a whole week off. a whole week that you got to spend with your favorite people in the entire world and not have to worry about being called in.

it had been ages since you had a whole week where you didn’t have to worry about a single work thing bothering you. the last time you had done this, you had convinced your then best friends to take you to their favorite park and have a picnic, go to the movies and even take you to the trader joes to get your favorite snacks. but this week, this week was different. firstly, you were now dating your best friends, and had been told to stay at theirs as long as you wanted to. you hadn’t left except to go to your apartment and grab a suitcase full of clothes. secondly, the case you had just finished drained the hell out of the three of you. a majority of the time was spent curled up on the couch cycling through shows on netflix and amazon prime, everyone taking turns picking a show to watch while eating leftover chinese food and cuddling. but today you were determined to get out of the house.

the local zoo was holding a sale to celebrate the birth of a new baby giraffe, which happened to be some of your favorite animals ever. so naturally, you got three tickets for the three of you last night and made sure you were up before both of your girlfriends to ensure you got your hands on tickets to feed the giraffes. it had been on your bucket list for a long time. ever since you were little, giraffes had intrigued you. they just looked so soft and cuddly. and you wanted to touch one. so, so bad. 

which is how you found yourself up at seven in the morning, squeezing yourself out from between the two older women and seaking downstairs, curling up in the armchair that you had claimed to yourself and grabbing your ipad. well, technically it was emily’s but she barely used it so therefore it was yours. you had all your favorite games on it anyway, so it was only fair that you used it more since you liked to play games on the jet. making sure you got to the website bright and early, you went to the page where you needed to buy the giraffe experience tickets and waited patiently until 7:30am hit and the first wave of tickets were sent out into the interwebs. within minutes, you had the three tickets you needed in your email. the next step to buttering up your girlfriends for a day at the zoo was to make breakfast. 

you knew exactly what breakfast each of them liked, and had memorized it a few weeks prior for moments like this. emily loved her bacon crispy, her eggs over easy and a marlboro gold by the bay window. jj, on the other hand, loved when you made the pillsbury biscuits with honey and butter, some sort of potato and getting kisses from both you and emily. considering emily usually woke up a little bit before you and jj on a typical day, you decided to start on hers first. you grabbed the box of cigarettes from her purse and put it over by the seat next to the kitchen table, opening the window so the cool dc air would flow through the kitchen as you cooked. sometimes you were tempted to light up a cigarette and see what they were like, but you couldn’t let go of your favorite fruity little flavors. that was another thing you added to your mental list of things to never let emily find out, since you knew she’d give you the look that she gives you whenever you’ve somehow disappointed her. 

jj had found out by a total accident a while ago, clocking your antsiness before you even did. you had stepped out for a breath of fresh air, not realizing that jj had followed you until you were mid hit and felt a presence behind you. while she had been disappointed, she knew that the oral fixation couldn’t be stopped if you weren’t chewing on your chewy necklace. you did your best to wear it, but sometimes the need for the nicotine buzz was stronger than your little necklace and you wanted to feel the dopamine. she sat with you outside while you tried to explain the way it made you feel, and she sat there the whole time and listened to you. she made you promise to lower the nicotine level, which you agreed to, but kept forgetting to go down whenever you stopped by the shop. 

despite the fear looming over you of disappointing emily, you couldn’t help but realize everything had been so easy with them. from communicating your needs to even just asking for them to sit with you. they made sure you were their number one priority. to this day, you were still scared of waking up in your dingy one bedroom all alone and still single. but now, here you were, slowly moving your stuff into their apartment and preparing to leave most of your old appliances at the local goodwill. it was a pleasant change, knowing you were moving somewhere nice and calm and where people supported your every move. where they wouldn’t yell at you when you forgot to refill the soap, or restock the cheese drawer after a grocery trip. 

shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you heard the bedroom door creak open and the padding of emily’s sock feet grew louder as you started smiling. 

“you’re up early,” emily beamed at you. “what’re you doing?”

“taking care of my girlfriends.” you shrugged. “cigs are on the table for you next to your window.” 

emily narrowed her eyes playfully at you. “you have a plan for today, don’t you?” 

“maybe i do, maybe i don’t.” you playfully smiled back at her. “you gotta wait for jayje to wake up.” 

“you know, you can be bad at hiding things sometimes.” emily came over to you and wrapped her arms around your waist. “you have the cheesiest grin on your face right now.” 

“can i not just make breakfast for my girlfriends when i want to?” 

emily placed a peck on your cheek, then captured your lips in a kiss. “you’re a devious little thing, lovey.” 

“and you adore me for it.”

“that i do.” 

you placed another kiss on emily’s lips before ushering her over to her window, grabbing the sheet pan of biscuits and slipping them into the oven. you relished these small moments with emily, where it was the two of you. you got these moments with jj at night, since emily typically stayed at the office later than you guys did. taking the mornings with just the two of you was something you tried to do more often than not, since you craved quality time with both of them. you loved having time with both of them together, but alone time with each of your girlfriends was something you cherished. you made sure to get emily’s coffee mug filled just the right amount and bought it over to the table, wrapping your arms around her from behind as the smoke flowed from between her lips. you had at least five more minutes before you had to start cooking the bacon and eggs, which meant you could sit with emily and bask in the moment. 

before you knew it, jj made her way into the kitchen, smiling widely as she came and wrapped her arms around you as you stood over the pan. your eyes momentarily closed as you leaned back into the blonde, letting her place a few kisses on your neck before turning around and capturing her in a kiss. you smiled at her before turning back to the bacon, making sure that side was crispy as you could get it before flipping it around. 

“what’s all this?”

“well… i uh, i had a plan for us today.”

you saw emily struggle to hold back a chuckle out of the corner of your eye.

“can you guys both be ready by nine thirty? no wait, be ready by nine fifteen and in the car by nine thirty because we need to be at the place by nine fifty in order to beat the crowds and get to where we need to be on time for our tickets because our tickets are for eleven.” you paused, looking at your girlfriends. “can you be ready by nine fifteen?” 

“i mean, yeah.” jj looked over to emily. “do you know the plan?”

“just that little miss over here woke up before us and i woke up with no blankets on me because in the midst of everything you stole all of them.” emily joked, poking her tongue out at jj. 

you started rocking up to the balls of your feet. “so um… there might be a new baby giraffe at the zoo and i might have gotten us tickets because i really really wanted to see the giraffes and they’re my favorites and they were running a sale because of the new baby and--” 

jj chuckled. “you are adorable, did you know that?” 

“is that a yes?”

“of course it's a yes, bubs.” jj placed a kiss on your cheek. “i’d love to go to the zoo with you.” 

“emmy?” you looked over to emily, the new nickname slipping out of your lips with ease. “can you come to the zoo with us? you’ll probably say no which is okay because i can always invite penelope or tara but-”

“why would you think i’d say no?” 

negative feelings overflowed your system as you remembered vividly the face that had been pulled when you asked to go to the zoo or do anything you considered fun. you felt yourself slipping into a dissociative state, fingers looking for something to stim on as you worked through your feelings. the harsh words of “why the fuck would you want to go to the zoo?” reverberated through as memories of one of your previous flings flew to the front of your mind. the shame you felt for wanting to enjoy your time together became unbearable and overwhelming, making you realize that your girlfriends could become annoyed with you like that and change their minds. what if they thought you were childish? what if they figured out you were too much for them?

emily looked over to jj. “did i say something?” 

“i don’t know. i don’t think so?” jj looked over to you, your eyes glazed over. “um.. shit wait, okay, i think they’re having an rsd episode, i’ll get their work bag. the marble fidget they use to calm down is in there.” 

emily scooted out from behind the table as she put her cigarette out, sneaking behind you to grab the pan off the stove before the bacon burned. she put her arms around you and pulled you close, running her hand up and down your back lightly as she waited for you to come out of your funk. she locked eyes with jj as she came back into the room, digging through the bag for the fidget toy in question, sticking it in your hands before you could start scratching at the side of your nails. a few minutes passed before you came back, the feeling of both emily and jj’s arms around you grounding you in the present, pushing the negative feelings to the back of your mind.

“‘m sorry.” 

“it's okay, lovey. do you want to talk about it?” 

“um… can you just… i’m not too much, right?” 

emily pulled back. “what makes you think that?” 

“whenever i asked about doing things that i liked, nobody really wanted to do them.” you looked down shamefully. “i shouldn’t have presumed you’d want to go with me.” 

“y/n y/l/n” blue eyes looked into your own. “you don't need to hide yourself with us. never hide yourself with us. you’re allowed to have your likes and act on them.” 

“but-”

“ah ah,” jj tilted your chin up, making you look at her. “don’t you dare.” 

it was almost as if a switch had been flipped in jj, her eyes darkening slightly as she stared at you. it caused your legs to turn to jelly, rendering you practically useless in your girlfriend's arms. you weren’t entirely sure what was happening, but it sent a wave of excitement through your veins. 

“we’re going to the zoo with you, we’re going to have fun, and we’re going to have a good day.” jj shot emily a ‘we need to talk about this’ glance before continuing. “go get dressed and ready for the day, we’ll finish our breakfasts and go enjoy the zoo.” she gave you a pointed look. “capeesh?”

all you could do was nod, your eyes widening in… whatever this feeling was that you were feeling. 

“words, y/n.”

“y-yes.” you swallowed. “okay.” 

jj smiled, switching back to her normal self and placing a kiss on your lips. “thank you for breakfast, by the way. it smells delicious.” 

you shyly smiled back. “i wanted you to be in a good mood before i asked you to go to the zoo.” 

emily pulled you in for a hug. “you never have to do anything for us to be in a good mood around you. we-” she paused. “there’s nothing you could do to put us in a foul mood.” 

“are you sure?”

“we’re sure. now go get ready, lovey, we’ll be up in a little bit when we finish our breakfast.” it was emily’s turn to kiss you. “don’t forget your meds.”

“oh shit, my meds!” 

emily and jj watched you run out of the room, both of the older women chuckling. emily wrapped her arms around jj, placing her head on her shoulder. 

“we’re going to need to work on talking about feelings, huh?” 

jj nodded. “it seems like it.” 

“would it be too much to castrate the exes who hurt them?” 

“uh… yes? we’re not castrating anyone.” jj lightly slapped emily’s arm. “go finish your bacon, we have places to be.” 

“we do need to have a serious talk with them about it, at some point.”

“yeah,” jj agreed. “lets just… they need to know we’re here for them. let’s focus on them the rest of the week and go from there.” 

emily nodded. “we’ll go from there.”

taglist: @jayden-prentiss

[andy-wm]

AYS Behind the scenes: behind the paywall

Now that the Disney+ episodes are complete (sob), my attention is firmly fixed on my mailbox as I wait impatiently for the AYS photobook and QR code.

I was always going to buy the Jikook photobook, even though I doubt there will be much we haven't already seen in the episodes. But the inclusion of the QR code was the clincher.

I must admit, Hybe locking up the behind the scenes for AYS was not on my bingo sheet.

Making behind/additional clips available on Bangtan TV would have been more in line with their regular MO. We don't generally have to pay for what really amounts to outtakes.

Okay, yes, we have to pay for behind cuts of Run BTS, but the actual episodes are free. With everything else the behind clips are included when you buy the series (I'm thinking of BV, ITS, and concert boxed sets).

In fact I can't think of any other time a behind/ bonus clip hasn't been available to fans who pay for the main content.

Maybe it is because Hybe was only contracted to deliver 8 episodes to Disney+ and the price was fixed. Maybe they saw an easy way to make the series more profitable.

We know they will take any opportunity to lighten our wallets.

But I think there's more to it

Let's talk business:

If Hybe wanted to make money from this, having the sale point directly on Weverse would make more sense. That way anyone could buy it any time without having to buy the photobook as well. Even if they charged just a few $$ for these extra clips, the return could be substantial over time. Long tail products can be very lucrative and Hybe clearly knows this - they have heaps of old footage for sale on Weverse. Since they're hosting the content already, it makes sense to keep that 'buy now' button active and let the dollars trickle in.

So why reduce the potential pool of buyers? Why limit this to those who buy the photobook??

Well, let's consider who is going to buy the photobook?

Who is going to fork out US$28 plus postage for a keepsake of these two on their third honeymoon?

I doubt OT7 ARMYs would buy it. Even ARMYs who bias JM or JK - if they aren't part of the SGMB they probably don't want it either.

Solos sure as hell don't want it - they are probably wishing the whole thing never happened... sucks to be them haha

Who really wants to see these two living their best lives together?

We do!

And by we, I mean Jikook supporters.

People who want to see more of this:

and this

And this

We are the people who will buy this photobook (and probably never look at it more than once, let's be honest)

But let's get back to the topic at hand....

The photobook/behind combo seems like a chicken/egg situation to me.

Which came first - as a concept - the photobook or the behind clips?

Did they decide to offer a photobook, and then think of adding the extra footage to make it more appealing?

Or vice versa?

Did they decide to make the behind clips, and think of the photobook afterwards?

Hard to say, since behind clips have always been a thing and recently Hybe is putting out photobooks for everything.

But I think I have a fair idea

Consider the price point for this photobook - it's the same price as most of the others produced recently: +-US$28.

AYS photobook & behind is the same price as the Photo-Folios, Tae's Type 1 (magazine version) photobook, and the Beyond The Stage photobook

🗣 So they aren't charging any extra for the behind footage?

No, they aren't. They're basically giving it to the buyers of the photobook as a gift.

🗣 Could they be making money off it?

Yes, the could.

Long tail, remember?

Looking at the profit-making potential, it makes WAY more sense for Hybe to offer the behind footage on Weverse for a few meagre dollars and... wait for their ship to come in...

See what I did there? hahahhaha (laughing by myself)

They really aren't making any money off this!

how unlike Hybe...

So why go to the effort of setting up QR codes and putting it behind a paywall? It costs money to host content this way. They are in fact SPENDING money to bring us this footage.

Not only through the hosting costs there are also production costs to consider.

Wouldn't it make more sense to just freely share it with ARMY via Bangtan TV? Or not release it at all?

Yes, it would...

So there's only one logical answer...

Hybe has chosen to make the content available - but also make it just that little bit more difficult to access.

This whole exercise seems to be about releasing additional footage without releasing it to the general public. It's being shared specifically with those of us who support them.

Does that mean we'll see slightly more personal content?

Maybe it's a little more revealing of their undeniable bond and their hot chemistry...?

Whatever they contain, these behind clips are definitely for a limited audience - and purposefully so.

The only reason for it, that I can think of, is to safeguard Jimin and Jungkook from too much scrutiny and criticism - from within the fandom (unfortunately) and outside of it.

We will find out in a few days I guess.

In the meantime, I'm camped out by my mailbox

[jellyskink]

Every little thing that Ford did, that most would find unusual or concerning, Stan couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his head. Every time, Ford would immediately sit on the floor instead of the couch when they watched movies. Every time Stan would wake up to a loud crash in the middle of the night only to see his brother panicking over A broken lamp or 3. Every time he had to hold his hair up while his brother threw up because he ate to fast or to much. He knew his brother was deeply traumatized, but he didn't know how deep or how most of it was caused. Part of him didn't want to know, but he wanted be there for his brother so he always asked Every time they spoke to see if Ford was willing to talk about it. Spoiler he never did, besides trying to justify it by claiming oh his muse did it cause he did something bad, he rarely elaborated any Further despite the constant begging. But at the end of the day if Ford wanted to share then he would. 

With another mouth to feed, (well one that Stan wanted to make sure had a fully nutritious meal 3 times a day. Instead of Stan's usual coffee in the morning, sandwich at lunch and a TV dinner for Dinner.) Stan ran out of food quickly so a stop at the grocery store was a must. He got up early, so the stores would be pretty empty, and grabbed his brother and headed out for the store. 

Ford was a bit nervous to be going. His concerns were rooted in fear of a crowded store. Stan assured him, it will be okay. It's pretty dead in the morning, and if it made him feel any better Ford could pick out any snack he wants. That got him excited, for the rest of the way there Ford contemplated on whether he should get some jelly beans, or a pack of cheddar moths, maybe Stan could let him get bubble gum icecream! Stan Could only chuckle at that level of excitement. 

Inside the store Ford followed Stan around as he picked out the groceries, occasionally He would ask  Ford for his opinion on certain items, Stan knew Ford didn't care what Stan picked he ate every thing, Stan once saw him eat a raw egg whole, shell and all saying he liked the crunch and the taste of blood from where the shells sliced his mouth. But still he wanted Ford's opinion. He wanted Ford to have some control of his life one cereal flavor at a time. Stan turned around, about to ask if he wanted Unlucky Leprechaun, or Cocoa-O's, when he noticed his brother Was gone. He dropped both boxes on the floor and started to run through the store to find him. 

Fortunately he found him the next aisle over, Stan figured he must have gotten excited to see the Calcium-Bones on the end cap displaying a big sale sign. “Great” he huffed, he found himself in the pet aisle. And even more “great” is that  he found Ford looking at big display of new chew toys. The new chew toys “Celebrating” the 25th anniversary of Weirdmageddon. Fuck. 

“Hey Ford whatcha got there?” 

“Look Stanley. Isn't this great! They have my muse here, and look here's me! Oh and here's Pyronica she's great oh and Teeth he's not great, oh and Eight-ball, and…” 

“Hey that's great, buddy.” he said softly, Keep calm Stan keep calm don't get mad focus on breathing. I don't think he realizes that they are  chew toys, meant to be destroyed by some sick owner's dog to terrorize. 

“Stanley, is it alright If I get these instead of my treat? Please, just look at My Muse isn't he wonderful.” Ford just looked so happy, he couldn't say no, but he had too for Ford's own good, now how to soften the blow? 

“Wow Ford, I would love too but you know money is pretty tight right now and with the twins birthday coming up I don't think now would be the best time, but I promise I'll sell something big soon and the next time where here you can pick one up. How's that sound?” Yeah that will give me plenty of time to break in and burn them all to a crisp.

“Oh. Stanley, I'm sorry… I feel terrible. Here you are trying to get the essentials. I didn't realize money was this tight. I swear I'll do what I can to help pull my weight. I think I saw a flyer for a dog show in town for tomorrow, the prize is 500 dollars. You can sign me up. This time, I'll win, I have been getting better at the tunnels, and I learned that if I dislocate my shoulders, I can squeeze through.  That and since that show off Calamari is’t here, so I'll finally be the top pet around here.” 

“Ford I'm not signing you up for a dog show, and you pull your weight just fine you send me all of that weirdness crap, and I am the man people come to, to buy it! My finances are none of your concern.” 

“Okay…”

“Great, let's get going before the store gets more crowded.” 

“You can start to check out. I'll be there in a minute. I just want to say goodbye.” 

“Alright just a few more minutes” 

Honestly the fact Ford didn't have a breakdown when stan said no was amazing in its own right. But Stan couldn't help shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. When they returned home Ford shut him self in the guest room. Stan figured it was because he need to charge his socal battery. It was around lunch when Stan checked in on Ford. This surprise there was talking behind the door. He carefully cracked open the door and peaked Inside. Ford was on the floor playing with the dog toys from earlier.

“Ford! If you don't stop talking about your stupid moth collection, I'm going to give you wings and pin you up to the wall for decoration.” Ford said in a high pitch voice his raspy voice could manage. Ford held the yellow triangle toy  above the ground so it could “float” around the mini version of himself.

“I'm sorry, My Muse. I'll stop  talking about the moths. Did you want to hear about how my appointment went? Dr. Oleander said…” 

“Why the hell would I want to hear about that. Be a good boy and shut up.”

“I’m sorry my muse, I'll be quiet. I'll be a good…” 

“I TOLD YOU TO SHUT THE FUCK UP! Do you want me to rip out your vocal cords again?”  Ford then took the mini Ford and slammed it on the floor and the loud squeak that came from it Stan knew he had to step in. 

“Hey Ford, I'm going to make lunch. Did you want chicken nug…. Whatcha got there?” Stan said as if he didn't spend the last few minutes watching Ford. “Are those the “toys” from earlier. Stanford, did you take them?” 

Ford sunk lower to the floor, tears stared to fall, “I'm sorry.  I'm sorry. Stan I….I just really wanted them I…I just took these two, I swear, and I…. I gave them a squirrel I found as a trade. Please, I'm so sorry.” 

“Stanford it's okay…  Just breath i ain't mad about the stealing. Trust me i’ve been known to shoplift a thing or two in my day (or this morning, foods getting way to expensive) I'm just surprised That's all I thought we agreed that I'll buy them for you later that's all.” 

“I know I just miss my muse so much. And playing with These help a bit.” 

Hummm, that gave Stan an idea if Ford wouldn't listen to him about Cipher being a jerk wad. Maybe he would listen to the toys

“Well is it ok if I played with you?” 

“Really?!” 

“Yeah sure just gimme one.” 

Ford gave Stan Mini Ford, and Stan looked over the toy for a dog toy it was pretty well made, and the Desiner even got all the bows and triangles right.  “Hello my names Stanford, and I love jellybeans, moths, and doing research to help protect the world.” 

Ford chuckled “Stanley! Fine.” He gave his Mini Muse a little hug and then went to play with Stan “Hiya smart guy! It looks like you could use a friend. you're in luck. I'm looking for a new pal. And i want to be buddies with the smart guy who was able to figure out who summoned me. Put er there, the names Bill Cipher.” 

Wait what? That caught Stan off guard Ford never called Bill by his Actual name in favor of calling him his Muse. Sure he Would replace the word God with the word Bill but he would never invoke his full name like that especially when Ford was playing so calmly. Let's see where this is going. Stan took the doll and attempted to shake bills hand. “Hi Bill, do you like research. I'm in this town to do science stuff. Can you help me?” 

“Sure pal! I'll help, and in exchange, you can help me with a little project i've been working on.” 

“Uh… Shure. What's the project”  Is Ford retelling a memory? He hates talking about the past but why is he reliving them now with the toys? What if he went against the script how would Ford react? 

“Oh just a simple Trans-universal Poly-dimensional meta vortex. Should be a piece of cake with your smarts and my guidance.” 

“No thank you ” 

Ford looked at Stanley and glared into his eyes “that's not how it happened. Play this right.” He switched back to his Attempted Bill voice “you sure about that.” 

“ OK fine I'll build your portal.” 

“Fantastic!” 

They played like that for a bit but Ford grew annoyed at how Stan was playing, so Stan asked if Ford could show him how to play. So now Ford was back to playing two roles well three, his research partner, (played by a discarded sock and was also controlled by Ford) mini Ford built the portal mini bill gave positive guidance. If this is what happened all those years ago then what happened? He didn't have to wait long for the answer something went wrong his research partner saw sorting he shouldn't have. And when mini Ford started to express concerns about the portal Bill grew nastier. Stan saw the Horrors of what his brother went Through through The dolls. And he saw the real Ford just talk about it as if he was just narrating a story.

Stan had enough when his brother was going into graphic detail of being chained up, starved, dehydrated, whipped, cut, sleep deprived, and thay were still only on year two of this torture. Stan did the math once and he estimated ford went through this for five years. 

“Hey Ford, I didn't realize. The time we've been playing here for 2 hours, i have an important meeting I have to go to.” Please stop this Ford. I don't think I can handle one more second of this. Is this why you never tell people what happened. Do you just bottle everything up so you don't scare people with what you've been through.  Cause obviously you do remember. 

“WHATS WRONG STAN2” wait Ford's bill impression  couldn't have improved that much in 5 seconds stan looked at Fords eyes and to his dismay they were yellow. WHATS'S WRONG YOUR NOT LIKING THE SHOW?” 

“Can it let him go. I'm not in the mood for your BS.” 

“AWW SO SENSITIVE ANYWAY FORDSY HASN'T BEEN SLEEPING WELL SO MY MESSAGES HAVEN'T BEEN GOING THROUGH. TELL THIS SAD SACK VACATION IS OVER AND HE HAS 72 HOURS TO BE AT THE FEARAMID OR ELSE.” 

“Fuck you, if you weren't in my brother right now. I would punch you into the next dimension.” 

“I WOULD LOVE TO SEE YOU TRY. JUST TELL HIM OR ELSE THOSE LITTLE SCEENS HE WAS DOING WILL HAPPEN AGAIN FOR HIM RUNNING AWAY YOU GOT THAT?” 

That got Stan to quiet down he knew that was a promise and not a threat “Alright Fine”

“SEE AND PEOPLE CALL YOU THE DUMB CLONE HAVE FUN AND REMEMBER 72 HOURS” before Cipher left Fords body he threw mini Ford against the wall  where it landed on the guest bed. 

“Huh…” Ford said while waking up from his possession. He looked around him and started to panic slightly. He caught stans eyes “Stanley do you see mini me? He should be here.” 

“Oh, yeah I think he's over here.” Stan picked him up from the bed. “he uh… was tired I put him down for a nap.” 

“Oh Stan your heart is in the right place, but you're just being silly. Mini Ford doesn't sleep on a bed. He sleeps on the floor on a dog bed. Hehe.” 

Stan sighed “Hey Ford, do you remember what we were just playing?” 

“Sorry can't say I recall I didn't know you were in this room until I woke up. Why did something happen”

Stan's heart dropped “eh it was nothing but Bi…. I mean your muse...” 

“My Muse was here! Does he miss me, I miss him. What did he say.” 

“Yeah he… uh misses you too and wants you back home in 3 days.” 

“Oh this is wonderful! I need to pack right away thank you so much for taking care of me while I'm here.” 

“Hey any time. I'm going to see if there's a bus to the bubble that's leaving no later then tomorrow morning. Not going to lie it hurts to see you go.” 

“Aw Stanley thank you so much your the best brother in the world. But don't worry about me My Muse takes such great care of me! But I'll be sad to leave you too.” 

While Ford was in the guest room packing Stan bought a ticket back to the bubble for Ford. he Didn't want him to go. It had been so nice waking up in the morning knowing he's safe and that he had proper food, and was loved and taken care of. And not that fake crap Cipher gives him.  While still  on Boogle Stan thought of an idea "come on come on you have to have a number listed…. Bingo. “ the website of one Dr. Irene Oleander was displayed on the monitor. This was the Doc that Ford talked about surely would know if something like this happened to Ford before. He scrolled down to a phone number and jotted it down on some scrap paper maybe she had some information on his brother he'll have to give her a call in the morning.

Hey, angst anon here, and I have brought you more angst. Anyway, enjoy this play based therapy sessions where Ford just zones out and narrates things he has no idea hes doing that to begin with and i did leave the ending open incase I wanted to do a second part of an awkward phone call between Stan and the doc I think that might be fun

Awwww, this is so cute!! It's also the closest thing my boy is getting to therapy for a while 💔

(This isn't the first time Ford has lit something on fire inside Stan's condo)

[libraford]

More medical under the cut, I am using humor as a coping mechanism and I'm not terribly funny.

I'm having trouble getting over the size of it. Like I'd never had an ultrasound before so I wasn't sure what I was looking at. So when she did the exterior reading I thought maybe the big black hole I was looking at was my uterus and maybe it was just at a weird angle.

So when she pointed to the little white smudge at the bottom and said 'that's what we can see of your uterus' and measured out the 9cm of the big black hole and said 'that's the fibroid' I was like...

...I've picked up baseballs at the park of that size.

That's a newborn's head.

That's a christmas ornament.

That's a goose egg.

That's one of those little bottles of soy sauce they have at fancy chinese restaurants.

I have picked mushrooms smaller than that.

There's a wad of toilet paper stuck to the ceiling of my high school bathroom that size.

An orange. Like a navel orange, not those little clementines.

Trial size coffee samples.

I can go to a Michael's, rummage through the wooden balls they have there and find an appropriately sized one for somewhere between 6.99 and 10.99 and then use a 30% off coupon on it because those things never go on sale so it would be eligible for the single item discount.

Someone said it takes these things 4-5 years to get to 2cm.

... so times 4.

....so 20ish years.

...so I would have been 17.

I complained about heavy, painful periods as early as 13 and people told me that it was normal, that my body would grow into it.

"No guys, seriously. It hurts a lot and I don't think I'm supposed to bleed this much."

I'd get used to it. My hormones would even out. I was being dramatic. This was a beautiful time in my life.

Wow. 9 whole centimeters. I have a camera lens that size. Balls of yarn. Cosmetic sponges. That geode I found at my grandmama's house. Shot put balls. The roots on one of my monstera plants is forming a ball about that size.

That's kind of what it feels like, actually. It feels like digging roots into me and filling up the space.

I'm thinking about all the pairs of pants that I've ruined in 20 years. This is why I don't wear khakis.

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 2

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: I was overwhelmed by the response on Part 1 (in the BEST way). 🥹 Thank you so much for everyone who read and sent me your lovely amazing comments! Here's Part 2 a bit early for ya. 😘

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,400 Tags/Warnings: Idiots flirting, with a side of sexual harassment. 😪

Part 2: "Lieutenant Winchester"

Firehouse 25 was just as much a house as it was a home.

Especially for Dean Winchester.

In the common room, he sat down at his preferred corner of the sofa with a cup of coffee. By now, the guys knew this was his spot, perfectly angled toward the new flatscreen TV someone donated last month.

Up until then, they’d had to hotwire the same tank from 1995, which had only got basic cable. Now at least the newer smart TV came with a subscription to Netflix, courtesy of the donor. 

Dean raised his favorite Batman mug to his face, expecting to imbibe some rich dark roast. What he got was a travesty.

Spitting out the brown soil water back into the mug, he coughed and grimaced.

“Jack!” he called out.

Jack Kline, the newest addition to the house, raised his head from where he was trying to scramble eggs in the open kitchen directly behind the couch.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replied.

“Why does this coffee taste like ass?” Dean asked. His voice was still gruff with sleep, as he depended on his morning coffee to wake him up, not assault his tongue.

Behind him, Jack blinked in confusion. “Uh…”

Dean finally turned around and gave the younger man a raised brow.

“What brand did you buy, Candidate?” he asked.

A candidate was a freshly graduated firefighter on probation. They were the rookie, the bottom rung of the totem pole, and Jack was that proverbial whipping post.

“Um…” Jack went to find the coffee canister he’d put away in the cupboards. He showed Dean the red plastic jug. “Folgers. It was on sale.”

“Fuck me,” Dean muttered. “Never Folgers, Candidate. Anything but fucking Folgers. The one thing we don’t skimp out on is quality joe.”

“That ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son,” Benny remarked, as he and Gordon entered the common room. Benny held a to-go mug he’d brought from home. After he’d seen what Jack brought for groceries yesterday, he’d taken no chances.

“What you wanna get is Gevalia,” Benny added.

“That European crap?” said Gordon. He took his usual spot at the dining table, leaning back in his chair. It left Benny to sit at the other end of the couch with Dean.

“Better than that piss water you drink,” Benny said with a smirk. Gordon raised a brow at him.

“Tea is medicinal, jackass.” The Black man raised a finger to punctuate his point. “It’s good for you. Unlike that carburetor fluid y’all drink.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean said, even though a grin edged at his lips. “All I know is, we need premium coffee, stat. Or it’s gonna be a cranky shift.”

“I can go to the store real quick,” Jack offered.

Say what you want about the kid’s poor taste in grocery buying, he was always willing to jump in when you needed him.

“Nah, stay on breakfast,” said Dean. “I’ll go afterwards. But remember, today you’re practicing rappelling drills.”

Jack nodded. “And lunch duty. And helping clean the truck, and all the bathrooms…did I miss anything?”

Dean shared a look with Gordon. Not only did he drive the truck, but he was one of the men Dean relied on most, as he had the next highest seniority on the job out of the whole firehouse.

Well, except for Benny Lafitte, Captain of the Rescue Squad. Squad members were considered specialists in complex rescue situations. They were highly trained on more sophisticated technical rescue equipment and rappelling, even scuba diving.

It took long years for a firefighter to make it onto Squad; something that Dean used to have ambitions for. But ever since he got promoted to Lieutenant on Truck 79, he realized that his role in this house was best served on the Truck, not on Squad.

“If he gets through all that, Meg might have something for him too,” Gordon said.

“Oh, don’t bring me into this,” remarked a droll voice. “I’ve already got one pound puppy to look after.”

Their Paramedic in Charge strode in with Chuck on her heels. They’d just pulled into the firehouse driveway on Ambulance 7.

“Nice. That’s how you talk about your partner of three years?” Chuck said with a frown. Meg turned to him with a wry grin.

“Only the ones who can hack it on my Ambo,” she replied. “What can I say. You’re special, Shurley. Either that, or a glutton for punishment.”

Gordon shook his head and looked over at Jack.

“Careful with that one. She chewed and hacked out her last partner in under a month.”

“Poor guy didn’t even transfer,” Dean added, making a “flatlining” motion with his hand. “He just quit. Dropped out of the Fire Academy that same day.”

Not all firefighters were made through Meg’s department, but it was a common route, working as a paramedic while getting put through your paces in the Fire Academy. Dean himself had gone straight to the Academy after getting his EMT certification.

But at Dean’s words, Jack’s eyes widened a fraction. Meg turned to him with an almost feline smile. 

“How was the call?” Benny asked her, speaking of the job they’d just returned from. Meg’s expression dimmed a little, as did Chuck’s as they both sat down at the table.

“Ah, just Henry again,” she said. “Overdosed on his insulin.”

Benny frowned, while Dean shook his head. Jack’s brows furrowed.

“Who’s Henry?” he asked.

Meg sat back in her chair with a subtle sigh. Knowing his work partner’s mood, Chuck answered the young man’s question.

“He’s homeless, lives by the river,” he said. “He’s one of our ‘regulars,’ you could say. When we get the call, usually he’s passed out. Dehydration. But sometimes it’s more serious.”

“You can’t take him to the hospital?” Jack asked in concern.

“Today we did,” Meg said. Her brown eyes met Jack’s, her mouth in a thin line. “But without health insurance, there’s only so much they can do after they get him stable.”

That fell a bit heavily into the room. It wasn’t a pleasant fact, but it was the reality. Jack was learning more and more about that aspect of this job, and learning if he could handle the darker shades of what it could bring.

“Well, breakfast is ready,” he said, bringing a large plate of eggs and toast onto the counter. Dean tossed him an appreciative half-smile and got up from the couch.

“Thanks, kid,” he said, walking over along with everyone else. He took a moment to pat Jack on the shoulder.

“What do you want to do first: run drills, or help me and Gordon wash the truck?” Dean asked.

Jack looked up with a smile. “Can we run drills first?”

Dean nodded, grinning back at him. “Good answer.”

The rest of the Truck and Squad crews ambled in at both the announcement and the smell of food. And before long, the common room was filled with conversation, good-natured teasing, and shitty coffee all around.   

From his vantage point facing the open door to the driveway, Benny caught sight of a young woman heading towards the double doors with a large tupperware bin in hand. Bonnie the receptionist happened to be coming in at the same time. You asked her a question Benny couldn’t quite hear.

“Dean… Oh, you’re looking for Lieutenant Winchester?” Bonnie asked. Her voice tended to carry. “Right in there, hun.”

“Well, that sure is interesting,” Benny murmured with a smile. He glanced over slyly at his friend. “Heads up, brother.”

Dean looked up from his plate of eggs expectantly. Benny gestured over with his eyes, just as you walked into the firehouse, both cautious and unsure of where you were going.

Dean’s brows raised. He found himself setting down his plate and getting up from the couch before he really knew what he was doing.

You looked exactly how he remembered. Though this time, you weren’t coffee stained in your professional blouse and black pencil skirt. His attention drew briefly downwards to your heels, this time solid black (and even taller than the last pair, damn).

He noticed all the same things he had last time: the shade of your hair, pinned up again with a clip as stray pieces framed your face. The way you carried yourself when you finally saw him, straightening with a subtle confidence in your shoulders, even though you looked a bit nervous. And the pretty curve of your lips when your eyes found his.

“Hey, there,” Dean said. He gave you one of his trademark smiles. “Good to see you again.”

“Uh, hi,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you remember me.”

Dean nodded. “‘Course I do. What can I do for you?”

Your face seemed to freeze up a bit as you looked up at him.

“Oh, um, nothing really. I just wanted to say thank you, again,” you said. And you glanced past him, where the rest of the firehouse members were discreetly watching. “All of you, actually. And my friend told me that firefighters really like food…but, I mean, doesn’t everyone?”

You laughed a little, in a nervous way that made Dean struggle not to smile too much.

“Anyway, I like to bake,” you twittered on, “and I had some time this week after…well, you know what happened. So…I brought this!”

You raised up your tupperware with a smile.

And you were damn adorable, Dean thought. His own smile deepened as he glanced down at the offering, then at you. He took the container and opened the lid, and was honestly surprised at what he saw.

He could’ve sworn these were Bonafede, just-poured-out-of-the-box Girl Scout cookies. Dozens of them. He saw shortbreads (complete with the little wavy lines), Samoa cookies with the coconut flakes, and even what looked like chocolate covered Thin Mints. They also smelled delicious.

“Wow. Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, with genuine warmth. “I’m pretty sure the guys are gonna tear these apart the second I put ‘em down.”

Your face brightened, and Dean noticed how it reached your eyes with a bit of a blush.

“Well, I hope you guys enjoy,” you said. Your hands fiddled with your purse next.

“Heading off to work now?” he asked.

“Yep,” you nodded, with a certain glint in your eye. “I plan on taking the stairs this time.”

Dean raised a brow. “All 22 floors?”

“Gotta get my steps in somehow,” you joked. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to become a repeat offender, make you guys come all the way back across town again.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, meeting your eyes. And he found that he meant it. In fact, he didn’t think he’d mind if your building’s elevator broke down every damn week.

Your expression shifted towards amusement. “Well, you must be very dedicated to your job.”

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you. He had half a mind to heed his instincts, to take advantage of the signals he thought you were sending him, and ask if he could take you out sometime.

But it was unprofessional here at the firehouse (not that that had stopped him before). He’d been making efforts to curb that kind of behavior for the past few months.

He also remembered the 30 floors of your massive, fancy office building. He considered the price tags that probably came with the admittedly sexy, high-powered corporate look you had going on. Those were probably a lot more zeros than he was used to seeing on his paycheck.

So for once, he didn’t pull the trigger.

“Well, thanks. I really do appreciate that,” Dean replied. His smile then was more sincere, if also more professional. He gestured at the container in his hand. “And on behalf of all the guys, thanks for this too.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “I have to go, but…thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester.”

“Ah,” he shook his head, “just call me Dean.”

You agreed by smiling, just a little bit more.

“Dean.”

He nodded back, sending you off with a smile of his own. He forced himself to taper it down after you left, and he had to turn around to meet his friends. Their grins reminded him of piranhas.

“All right. Out with it, you freakin’ jackals.” He waved his free hand in a “bring it on” gesture.

Meg was the first one to burst out laughing. It spearheaded the rest of them, whooping and catcalling and generally being menaces. Even Jack was grinning at his lieutenant’s expense.

Meg got up from her seat and bumped Dean’s shoulder on her way to the kitchen, where she dumped her dishes.

“Thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester,” she mocked in a saccharine sweet voice. Then she lowered it into an exaggerated mimic of his deeper one, “Call me Dean, baby girl. Fucking priceless. You should get your own Hallmark movie.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He’d been prepared for this, but his face was still getting warm.

“Shut up, Meg,” he tossed back. They all had an ongoing Family Guy joke that never failed to make their PIC narrow her eyes. And she did so now, giving him a fake grimace as she left the kitchen.

“All right, kiddos. If you need me, don’t,” she said. “Chuck! Let’s sort the ambo’s inventory.”

“Got it,” her partner nodded. He too got up and placed his dishes in the sink before he took off after Meg.

This left Dean with the rest of the guys, who still gave him knowing smiles as he set your bin of cookies down on the table. He blew out a breath before he returned to the couch and sat down heavily across from Benny and Gordon.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Dean Winchester bitched out,” Gordon remarked.

Once again, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Truly incredible,” Benny added. He shook his head when Dean just crossed his arms. “She was eying you like a pork cutlet, and you just let her walk outta here.”

“We’re in the house, guys. What was I supposed to do?” Dean groused.

Benny and Gordon looked at him like he’d just denounced Led Zeppelin (his favorite band of all time). 

“Get her goddamn number, Winchester,” said Gordon. The man’s lips curved. “Or at least, introduce her to a brother.”

Dean shot him a glance. Gordon Walker was damn good at driving the truck, but he was also known for being a hunter of the ladies himself.   

“She seemed nice,” Jack put his two cents in with a smile. He was standing behind the couch, leaning his elbows on it. Gordon scoffed, nodding his agreement.

“Yeah, with a fat ass too,” he said, sipping his tea. 

Benny reached over and hit his shoulder to shut him up. 

“That’s a lady, Gordon,” he said. Though a suspect smile graced his lips as he glanced at Dean. “A lady with a nice ass.” 

Dean shook his head, but he couldn’t disagree. The first time he met you, he’d been impressed by the way you stood your ground with your asshole boss. Dean thought you were going to chuck that lethal looking heel at the guy. But behind that steely exterior was a kind little softie.

Today, he got your sweet side. It was equal parts sexy and adorable. 

And damn if you didn’t have a nice ass, nice curves, and a nice mouth. 

But your eyes, he thought. Those were nothing short of beautiful. 

About twenty minutes across town, an apartment building was swarmed by police cars. One unit in particular was sealed off with yellow caution tape as a team of officers drifted in and out. 

What a fucked way to die.

Detective John Winchester observed the unnatural angle that the victim—Jerry Stillwell, a certified public accountant—had his throat cut with a jagged weapon.

It hadn’t been clean in the least. And he’d bled out across his work desk and a stack of papers, as well as his desktop computer. He was 45, unmarried, and murdered in his own home in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

The computer wouldn’t turn on, and not because of the blood. It had been wiped with magnetized technology, most likely by the intruder. Though there was no sign of forced entry, according to John’s partner. The murder weapon was missing as well, though it looked like a knife wound.

John leaned over the on-site medical examiner’s shoulder to peer closer at the man’s wounds. Stillwell had most likely been grabbed from behind. So far, the signs pointed to the culprit being someone the victim knew.

They probably took Stillwell by surprise, but he was a large man. If John had to guess, over 250 pounds, unathletic, but still, not easy to overpower. Likely the suspect was a man over 6 feet; strong, and efficient. Though the messiness of the kill made John think this guy took "pride" his work, so to speak.

“Signs of struggle,” said the M.E. “Skin under the fingernails. He fought back, and…huh.”

John’s interest piqued at the man’s shift in tone. “What?”

“Take a look at this.” The M.E. was holding Stillwell’s right hand, palm-up, revealing a small burn on the inside of the wrist. John’s gaze sharpened on the mark.

“Cas, come here,” he said. Across the room, Detective Cas Novak paused in his task of examining the entry points of the apartment to join John at his side. His blue eyes widened a fraction at seeing the burn. It was a symbol of a snake eating its own tail.

“That makes four,” Cas said.

“Yep. We’ve got ourselves a murder cluster,” John said. Cas nodded. He beckoned John to the side, making sure the M.E. was out of earshot before he spoke. “Isn’t it time we brought Sam up to speed on this, at least?”

John’s brows furrowed.

“No,” he said. “Sam’s an ADA. We don’t go to him until we have someone to indict.”

He walked away from Cas, who frowned. John knew damn well that wasn’t what he meant. This was the fourth murder within six months of this nature. The fourth to be branded with the mark of Azazel…a criminal who supposedly disappeared decades ago.

Shortly after November 2, 1983, the day of Mary Winchester’s death.

Seeing Dean again had gone better than you thought it would. It left you feeling light and downright cheerful when you left the firehouse this morning. Unfortunately, the great start to your morning only crumbled when you reached your office.

Now, even at the end of your day, finally back at home and in the familiarity of your kitchen, the tension headache was back.

“Dre, I’m tired. Can’t we do this another night?” you asked.

Your cell phone was balanced between your ear and your shoulder as you counted out your grandfather’s pills, and placed them in each “Monday through Sunday” box in the blue container.

“No, we absolutely cannot. Because today was horrific,” Andréa said. “For me, because my coworker decided to play hookie on the day our top account needed the mockups of their new website. Never mind that she hadn’t even started.”

Pause for an aggravated breath, through which you frowned in sympathy. She’d told you the entire story over lunch today.

“And for you, because Nick once again displayed why he’s a subhuman neanderthal, in spectacular fashion,” she added.

Your grimace deepened at the reminder.

Earlier today, just before a sales meeting you were set to lead, you’d turned away from the conference table to set up the projector. Nick was early for once, making it just him and you in the room.

He’d sat back in his chair and uttered a remark that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“I’ll tell you what, babe. You sure know how to wear a skirt.”

Your back straightened, and slowly you turned. Your face was set in stone, save for a solitary raise of your brow.

“Excuse me?”

Nick’s smirk was lazy as he kicked his feet up on the table. His hand held a tumbler of whiskey. You noted the half empty carafe, which just yesterday had been full and untouched.

“Fucking fantastic legs,” he said, vaguely outlining your shape with his hand. “I applaud you. It’s all very…sexy secretary. Oooh! Sexcretary. Fucking brilliant.”

You gaped, trying to put a clamp on the furious spike in your blood.

“Are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.

He raised his fingers an inch or so apart, scrunching up his face and trying not to laugh.

“Actually nah, not at all,” he bluffed. 

He let his hand fall back into his lap. You shook your head and set down your papers in order to cross your arms.

“Good. Then you’ll hear me clearly when I say, I’m filing a formal complaint with Billie in HR,” you said.

“Whaaat? Why?” he complained. You huffed incredulously.

“For your little comments, which are getting more and more heinous. Not to mention your excessive drinking during company hours.”

Nick pursed his lips. “Christ on a stick. Can’t you take a fucking compliment?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “What I refuse to take is any further sexual harassment. This isn’t the first incident I could disclose, but I’m damn sure you’ll want it to be the last.”

He kicked his feet off the table and slowly stood. You didn’t want to be afraid of this sloppy, frat boy drunken attitude, but a tendril of trepidation still laced down your spine as you took a step back.

“You could do that,” he nodded, tilting his head. “Or, I’ll give your Zimmerman account to Josh, along with your commission.”

You frowned, and shock made your entire body tense. 

“You…you can’t do that!” you exclaimed. Your insides fairly shook with frustration tinged with anger. “I’ll sue you.”

“With what money?” Nick scoffed.

Your brows knitted together then. How the hell would he know anything about your finances?

The man noted your reaction with a nod.

“Yeah, I know all about grammy and gramps. Surgeries, funerals, treatments…” he said. He leaned against the table with one hand, and still he fairly loomed over you.

He wasn't as broad as someone like Dean, but he was tall and lean. His dirty blonde hair was swept to the side, his blue eyes bearing down on you.

“I am this company. If you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out, sweetheart,” he said.

His gaze lowered, roaming your glowering face.

“And good luck getting anywhere else without a reference from one of the biggest corporations in Lawrence, Kansas.”

You sighed. Yeah, you might’ve shed some frankly embarrassing tears in the women’s bathroom after that. You hadn’t even told Andréa the full story, which included the details of his comments, along with his threats.

You didn’t want her to worry. And maybe, more selfishly, you were embarrassed at having to deal with it at all.

Truth be told, you still didn’t know what the hell you were going to do. About Nick, or your job…but somehow, getting drunk at a bar seemed about the last thing you should be doing.

“I need a drink,” Andréa insisted. “Which means you definitely need a drink. And I know exactly where we’re going.”

After a long moment, you leaned your elbows on the kitchen counter and rubbed through the persistent ache in your forehead. Maybe, just this once, you deserved to forget about reality. Just for a little while.

“Fine. Where?” you asked.

“It’s this great bar Meg told me about. The Roadhouse.”

“Ah, the usual suspects,” Ellen drawled at the men who managed to find seats at her bar, next to the rest of their party. The Roadhouse was packed on a Friday night, but she always had room for these two.

Benny and Dean wore similar tired, but pleasant smiles as they greeted their esteemed barkeep.

“What’s it been, Ellen, a whole shift since I’ve seen your delightful face?” Dean said.

Ellen gave him a mocking smile as she poured him his favorite beer on tap. Dean grinned and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he sat down. He and Cas had been waiting for a little while.

…Well, maybe longer than a little.

“Hey, dude,” Dean said. Sam perked up from his second beer with pursed lips.

“You know we’ve been waiting on you for like an hour, right?” he said.

“Aw, don’t get your panties in a twist, Sammy,” Dean teased. He nodded his thanks at Ellen when she set his beer in front of him, and a glass of whiskey for Benny. “We had a last-minute call. Some guy just couldn’t wait to start his Happy Hour. Drove his car into the company fountain.”

Sam’s brows raised incredulously. He looked over at Benny for confirmation, and the other man gave a resigned nod.

“Apparently it set the ducks into a tizzy,” he said. “The guy’s fine. Probably gonna get slapped with a DUI.”

Dean smirked and raised a finger at both Sam and Cas. “Duck Guy’s your problem now.”

Cas shook his head and raised his beer to his lips.

“Not my department.”

“Mine either,” Sam scoffed. Both of them worked in homicide cases, just from the differing sides of law and order. In fact, they worked together more often than Dean and Cas did.

Dean looked over at his friend Cas for a moment. He looked like more of a hot mess than usual, with his tie half undone, and a scruffy half-beard covering his face.

“Geez, man. You look like shit,” Dean remarked. “You and Meg fighting again?”

“No,” Cas replied, his brows furrowing. “…Well, yes. But nothing more than her usual insanity. Something about the cat preferring to sleep next to me than to her.”

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Benny said. “My dog don’t like her either.”

“Maybe they can smell that she’s feral,” Dean quipped. Cas sent him a dry look at that.

“She threatened to move out,” he revealed. “Even packed a bag at 3:00 in the morning. I spent two hours unpacking what she was re-packing, all while we argued in our underwear, not sleeping.”

Sam and Dean shared bemused looks, while Benny shook his head into his whiskey.

“So how’d it end up?” Sam asked. Cas sighed and took another long sip of his beer.

“Like it always ends, Sam,” he said, his lips quirking. “With our neighbors calling the precinct to complain, and me, somehow ending up sleeping on the couch for a crime I didn’t commit. If she wants to blame someone, blame the goddamn cat.”

Dean chortled. He brought his beer to his lips, but couldn’t resist a light jab at his best friend first.

“Dude, I love her like a sister, but your girlfriend’s unhinged,” he said.

Cas could only nod. “Most are, I’ve come to find.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head. “Not mine.”

“Yeah, that’s because Eileen doesn’t have to see you more than two minutes at a time,” Dean teased. He and his brother still shared an apartment, and Sam’s job as an Assistant District Attorney wrought demanding hours.

Sam shot his brother a flat look.

“Oh, I’m not taking that from the serial playboy,” he said.

Dean’s brows knitted together.

“All right, calm down,” he said. “I’m not Hugh Hefner.”

“Mr. Hit and Run,” Cas added, a smirk gracing his features.

“Chief ‘No Daddy Issues,’” Benny tipped in, giving his annoyed, green-eyed friend a sly glance. “With a side helping of the Clap.”

Dean’s lips pressed into a line. He leveled a finger at Benny.

“That girl was clean, okay? False alarm,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward as he sipped his beer. Thank Christ for that one. “The rash was just carpet burn.”

Sam shook his head and turned to his brother more seriously.

“Bottom line: until you date a woman for more than two weeks—hell, two days at a time—you don’t get to comment on the happily committed,” he said. 

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew his track record with relationships. As in, he didn’t really have a record…but it wasn’t for lack of trying. At least, not for the past few months.

Sam managed to break Dean out of his thoughts by clearing his throat, pushing his empty bottle across the counter.

“All right, speaking of. I gotta go,” he said.

“Aw, why? We just got here. Let me buy you another,” Dean offered.

Sam shot his brother another knowing look. Dean knew it well; it said, if he’d been here on time, they would’ve shared the first two drinks.

“I’m picking up Eileen,” Sam said, grabbing his blazer and fixing the collar when he put it on. “There’s this Latin club she wants to go to.”

Dean raised incredulous brows.

“My brother’s going salsa dancing?”

Sam sighed in exasperation, despite his smile. “Bye, Dean.”

He shot his other two friends a nod.

“See you guys.”

Cas and Benny both saw him off with a subtle raise of their drinks, while Dean just shook his head.

“All right, Samantha,” he called out. Sam didn’t bother to turn around as he raised up a choice finger behind him.

Dean snorted into his drink. “Very mature.”

Benny and Cas shared a wry look. They were relieved when Ellen’s daughter Jo came by, picking up the slack for her mom, who was serving a rowdy group of college kids at a nearby table.

“Hey, guys. Need another round?” Jo asked. She gave them all a familiar smile, but her eyes lingered on Dean. He gave her a more reserved smile back.

“Hey, Jo,” he nodded. “I uh…actually think I’m good right now.”

“Me too,” Cas said. He even stood up and grabbed his trenchcoat in similar fashion as Sam had. The two had paid for their beers before Benny and Dean even got there.

“Aw, not you too,” Dean groused.

“If I don’t make dinner, we run the risk of the apartment going up in flames,” Cas informed him. Dean could only assume he was talking about Meg. “Despite working with the Fire Department for ten years, the woman can’t manage to boil an egg without supervision.”

Jo raised a brow, but her smile was bemused as she turned to Benny. “Anything for you?”

“Nah, darlin’. I’m good,” he said. But sensing the unspoken request in her eyes when she glanced at Dean, Benny straightened and raised from his seat. “But I’ll be back. Need’a hit the head.”

Dean internally sighed as Benny left him alone at the bar. Or, well, relatively alone. Jo lingered in front of him to wash and dry out a few glasses. The air between them was stiff, and a little awkward.

Dean’s thoughts shifted back to his brother then; while he still couldn’t believe Eileen had wrangled his gangly Sasquatch of a brother into going dancing, Dean was happy for him. Truly and sincerely. Sam deserved having someone who softened him, made him break away from his endless cases and have some fun.

Dean could also admit, if only to himself, that he was maybe a little jealous. Sam had something good with his girl. Something real.

Dean had carpet burn.

“So, how’s studying going?” he asked Jo. He couldn’t stand awkward silences. “Still planning on giving your mom a heart attack when you get into the Police Academy?”

Jo’s blue eyes flicked up to his. She brushed a coil of blond hair behind her ear after she finished drying a glass, and a smile raised the corner of her lips.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I gave her something to yell about,” she quipped. “But since you asked…my exam is in three months.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “You’ve got time. Study your ass off. Keep up the conditioning routine I gave you, and you’ll be set. Just don’t forget the strength training. Very important.”

“I got it,” she said, this time with a brighter smile. “Some old firefighter gave me some pointers.”

Dean tilted his beer at her accusingly.

“Hey, don’t pin that old shit on me yet. Benny’s got more mileage than I do…”

He considered her then, after briefly looking down at the counter.

“What?” she said.

He kept his lips tight. “Nothin’.”

“No, Dean. What?” Jo pressed. “You want to say something. Say it.”

He blew out a breath and shook his head.  

“Ellen’s not the only one who’s gonna worry about you on the job, that’s all,” he said. Jo flickered at a rueful frown.

“That’s ironic,” she said. “I can handle myself, Dean. Something you so often seem to forget.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” he shot back. His hand tightened around his beer.

Jo’s face fell into irritation, mostly to cover up the hurt he saw buried deep behind her eyes. She gave him some relief by glancing away from him.

“And this is why we didn’t work out,” she muttered. Sighing through her nose, her eyes met his again. “You know what I hate, more than anything? People worrying.”

Dean carded his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting together in aggravation.

“Yeah, well, maybe they have good reason to,” he said. He could’ve predicted the way she tightened up. “And if I remember right, you did your fair share of hand-wringing the next time I responded to a fire on the job.”

He knew it was a low blow. But his point was made, and he fully expected the anger in Jo’s tight frown. They’d dated for a few weeks, mostly in secret.

That had been enough for Ellen to blow her top. Not because she had anything against Dean…just his job: at the very same firehouse her late husband had once served.

So Dean had backed off. He’d ultimately felt he had to end it. And clearly, Jo still resented him for it.

Slowly, however, the fire in her eyes dimmed. Her finger tapped on her side of the bar counter.

“You think I don’t worry anymore just because we’re not together?” she asked him. 

Dean didn’t have a good answer for her. So his gaze fell to his nearly empty beer.

But he was even more relieved when Benny finally got back from the bathroom, or wherever he’d fucked off to for the past few minutes.

He did seem to know that he was interrupting a rather tense moment. Seeing as neither Dean nor Jo wanted to break the silence, Benny supposed it fell on him.

He reclaimed his seat and raised a smile up at Jo.

“I think I’m ready for the next round,” he said, glancing at Dean’s soured mood. “Two whiskeys, please, Joanna.”

Jo treated Benny with a half-smile. He was the only one besides her mother who called her Joanna (and got away with it). After one last look at Dean, she reached over for the Jim Beam.

You met Andréa at the bar in your own car, just in case you needed to dip out early to check on Grandpa George. He was happy to see you going out.

“You’re pretty as a doll, sweetheart,” he’d said, patting your cheek after you kissed his goodbye.

The thought made you smile, even though you thought you were dressed casually in your dark wash jeans and blouse. When Andréa met you outside the bar, she nodded in approval.

“Good. I like the hint of sexy,” she said, plucking at the sweetheart neckline of your top. You rolled your eyes and tried to cover up the cleavage a little, but she batted at your hand.

“No, no. Leave your professionalism at work,” she said. “Tonight, you’re going to relax and have some fun.”

It was hard to think about loosening up when you were literally getting belittled and threatened at work…but you supposed she had a point. You always had to be put together. You had to be sharp, because this world wouldn’t hand you anything on a silver platter.

And not to mention, you couldn’t just think about yourself. You also had to provide and take care of your grandfather too. He was the only family you had left, and you were it for him too…

But you took in a slow, deep breath. Tonight, you could have a couple of drinks with your friend. You could just be yourself, with no responsibilities other than not getting too drunk to drive yourself home later.

So with a sigh, you smiled and linked your arm with Andréa as you headed inside the Roadhouse.

It looked kind of divey from the outside, a worn-looking brown building with a faded red sign. But inside it was all dark wood and leather barstools and rows of soft lighting overhead.

There were records displayed on the wall; Prince’s Purple Rain, the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, and David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, among others. Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” played on the wall speakers.

There were several tables, both high top and regular four-seaters, as well as a long bar that spanned the far wall, where rows and rows of liquor were showcased. You followed Andréa’s lead to the bar, where you took a seat at the far end and tried to feel like you belonged here. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to a place like this.

“This is nice,” she leaned over into your ear to say. “Next time my cousin should meet us here. She’s a handful, but I think you’d like her.”

You agreed with a smile. “If she’s anything like you, I think I’m well trained to handle your brand of insanity.”

Andréa leveled you with a playfully mocking look.

“Ah, you’ve got jokes tonight. Okay.” She waved over the blonde bartender.

“Hi, ladies,” she greeted. “I’m Jo. What’re we starting off with tonight?”

Before you could order for yourself, Andréa grabbed your arm and spoke over you.

“Do you have absinthe?” she asked.

Your eyes widened. “What?! I’m not drinking that—”

“Sure do,” Jo replied in amusement.

“Great,” said Andréa. You didn’t like her sly grin. “She’ll have an Aunt Roberta. I’ll have a vodka cranberry.”

“What the hell is an Aunt Roberta?” you asked.

Jo listed the ingredients on her fingers. “A nice molotov of brandy, vodka, gin, blackberry liqueur, and of course, absinthe.”

Jesus Christ. You shot Andréa a glare, even though you were trying to dim your smile.

“Are you trying to chill me out or fucking end me?” you asked.

Andréa smirked. “Whatever it takes.”

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded your agreement. Jo’s smile remained as she went to prepare your drinks. Meanwhile, your eyes wandered as you once again took in your surroundings.

Really is a cool place, you thought. And it was busy without being overbearingly crowded. There were even a few seats between you and the rest of the patrons at the bar. Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.

There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.

That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.

Lieutenant Winchester.

AN: *rubs hands together* It begins. 😏

Lol how'd you like Dean's little moment with the reader at the firehouse? Plus the introduction of the rest of our cast!

(And a possible serial killer on the loose?) Though sorry about Nick. He's a douchecanoe.

Next Time:

Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.

“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said.

Keep Reading: PART 3

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[iandarling]

Domestic gallavich headcanons

Mickey makes their eggs in the morning while Ian brews the coffee and sets the “table”. They eat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. It’s quiet and comfortable. Ian squeezes Mickeys thigh as he sits down next to him, smiling into his coffee cup. He swallows his meds before he digs into the scrambled eggs and sausage Mickey prepared. They exist in their own silence and comfort for a few moments before their day fully starts.

For their first valentine’s day together Ian buys Mickey a card which he says he hates, but Ian has seen him staring at it fondly with tears in his eyes. Ian finds it more romantic that Mickey takes advantage of the sale after valentine’s day to buy him a fuckton of roses and chocolates that were on sale.

They get a costco membership. Or rather, Ian gets a costco membership, but Mickey doesn’t mind it once he learns about the free samples. They buy a bunch of rotisserie chicken for the whole family, stock up on juice boxes for Franny and Freddie, buy water bottles and gatorade in bulk. They also have cheap tequila which Mickey loves so it’s a win win.

After work they like to sit on their balcony with a cold beer and dinner. Ian usually cooks while Mickey watches and talks. Ian loves listening to Mickey talk about anything and everything.

There is a new Club who wants them to deliver edibles twice a week. Mickey negotiations a good deal so Lip and Iggy can work part-time for them while still earning a good deal

One day while out grocery shopping shopping Mickey spots those flavoured straws that he used to see in all the adverts growing up. Plastic straws filled with chocolate, strawberry, or banana flavoured powder that would change the normal milk to whatever flavour you wanted. He never got those as a kid — Terry saying it was a waste of money, and he was too young at the time to steal them himself. As a teen he forgot about them, too preoccupied with everything else, but now as a 26 year old he could afford them. Mickey slips two packs of them into the cart before Ian sees them — he will lie and say there for Franny if he asks, but really he’s just always wanted to try them. That night Ian sees him staring at the stupid pack of multicoloured and flavoured straws. Ian doesn’t laugh at him, and they try each flavour together. The strawberry one is the best.

[mlim8]

Falling Feels like Flying

My contribution to @jaydick-week's NightHood Fanzine!

I did a collab with @allthatsentimentalcandyfloss - this was an idea I had two years ago during JayDick Week in 2022 and only had enough energy to draw a couple of gifs lol... BUT HERE'S THE WHOLE THING, FINALLY!!

Elle's post!

Thank you if you made it to the bottom of this comic!! I was trying to upload the audio that I clipped down to go along with your viewing here but it was having problems so... 🙃

Things to Note + Easter Eggs:

If you are interested, we are still running our Leftover Sale if you'd like to get this comic, as well as other AMAZING fics, art, comics, and MERCH!!!! Any and all remaining profits will be donated to Doctors Without Borders to help them in their mission to provide emergency aid and medical care around the globe.

So this idea came about the whole "What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?" and the whole notion of Jason pining after Dick for YEARS and not thinking Dick could ever feel the same way ~

The idea of Bludhaven pier being their "Is this or isn't this a date?"-spot was designed after Coney Island that Elle and I went to with @the-man-moth two years ago ;w;

Jason's date outfit consists of a jacket with an 'RH' emblem on the sleeve and a worn out Eagles 'Hotel California' t-shirt underneath to go along with the "With my Eagles T-Shirt hanging from the door" lyric in the song that I cut out for this comic. Elle looked it up and Eagles apparently referred to the football team, but we cheated and made it the band instead LOL

I've said this for years, but the 'small-wing' collar with a bowtie is one of my favourite things to see ever, so I drew that on Dick instantly in the Gala Flashback scene lol

I don't know if I pulled it off well, but Dick was trying to be just as unsure about this being a date or not as Jason was ;w;

In the 'Coastal Town' (Bludhaven) flashback, Dick is eating cotton candy and Jason's eating a hot dog lol this was suppose to represent aving gone to the Bludhaven Fair/pier in the past where Jason won Dick a Robin Elephant plush uwu I bet the carny there was shocked to see Discowing and Robin pull up to their booth lol

I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED!!!

[lazypanartist]

Hobie Brown x Artistic/DIY Reader

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3

Warnings: maybe spoilers for ATSV, IDK. Reader's in the punk scene and from Hobie's universe. Whole lotta projection.

Features personal Hobie HCs I guess. It's just self indulgent. Also! Roommate Gwen?

Please RB, likes alone don't do anything for the algorithm!

-----

"Who's she?"

You barely whisper the question to your boyfriend, peeking past the dividing wall between kitchen and living room. He glanced up from whatever he's cooking - eggs, probably - to look at the girl flopped across your couch.

"Oh. That's Gwen. Spider-Woman from another universe - she needed somewhere to crash, so I offered her our couch."

Our. The word still made you fuzzy inside, even after he dragged his stuff into your life a month prior.

Even with the warm and fuzzies, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was a bit.. off.

"The new recruit you took a shine to."

He hummed a quiet affirmation, his eyes meeting yours after a second.

"There's nothing going on, I promise."

"You don't have to promise." He wouldn't do anything stupid, that much you knew for sure. Still.. "You don't normally trust people so fast. Not enough to bring them here."

He turned back to you, handing you a plate with a pancake and silently gesturing for a clean plate. "She's.. cool. I dunno. Not like the rest of the people in the Spider Society. Reminds me more of you, actually."

You blinked.

"Home life trash, emancipated at fifteen, got a lot of stupid jobs to stay afloat and support an artisan hobby?"

He chuckled, bumping your hand gently with his own as he takes the plates - plural - from your hand. "Not quite. Her old man tried arresting her." You suck in a breath, and he nodded. "Thinks she killed a family friend. That's why she joined up - the dad, not the friend."

He fans the plates slightly. "Two?"

You shrug, head tilting towards the couch. "Well. She probably needs to eat when she wakes up."

He smiles, and you can't help but return the gesture.

"She's already wearing off on you."

"Yeah, well, I've only heard good allegations."

You lean forward to land a peck on his lips before opening the fridge, and you hear a huff when you turn from him.

"I hope she can help with groceries or something."

He laughs full heartedly at your grumble this time. You feel him approaching before he's actually touching you, his chest - finally healed - pressing gently against your back as he helps you search for pancake toppings.

You lean back into him before grabbing a container of fruit, and he helps you pull away and shut the door before he's back at the stove, flipping the next cake over.

"Well. She might be able to help at the next show."

You nod, grabbing a spoon and scooping some of the fruit onto your pancake.

"The one with the sale?"

He nods with a quiet hum. "She might have patch ideas or something."

You look her over from the distance, her vest catching your eye.

"Yeah.. she has good style."

You can almost feel him look past you before he's laughing, eyes catching the same piece you had been looking at.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.. if she's stealing my stuff, she's gotta."

You can't help but laugh with him again, looking at your new guest-slash-apparent roommate.

"You steal my stuff all the time."

You nod gently, smiling. "Yeah.. she'll fit right in."

---

Part 4

[incorrectbatfam]

Could you please do some headcanons about Batmans cooking disasters over the years?

Age 5: Bruce puts tinfoil in the microwave. Alfred shakes his head and laughs

Age 6: He decorates a cookie so badly another kid cries until they throw up

Age 7: He tries to make a PB&J and the countertop is sticky for a week

Age 8: He tries to make Martha's chicken noodle soup but ends up crying on the kitchen floor surrounded by half-chopped vegetables

Age 9: He tries to impress a houseguest by recreating Thomas's mixology tricks (sans alcohol). There's still a stain on the ceiling to this day

Age 10: He makes green eggs. It's not on purpose. He's never even read the book

Age 11: He makes lava in the school cafeteria

Age 12: He tries to make cheese bread by drilling holes into a baguette and filling it with melted nacho cheese

Age 13: He melts a cutting board in the oven

Age 14: He folds a Pop Tart

Age 15: The chocolate-covered bananas he makes for the school bake sale come out looking very very wrong

Age 16: He's asked to drop a home economics class after mistaking refried beans for pumpkin puree in a pie

Age 17: He boils eggs in the carton

Age 18: He makes his entire freshman dorm evacuate after burning his ramen to ash

Age 19: He sculpts a severed hand out of meatloaf and is sent to the university psychologist

Age 20: He tries to bake a cake but doesn't have a cake pan, so he pours the batter right in the oven

Age 21: He tries Thomas's mixology tricks again, this time with alcohol. One of the tricks is flipping it over his head. He ends up losing part of his vision for 3 days

Age 22: He burns water. Harley Quinn is there. She still holds it over his head

Age 23: He packs his first patrol snack as Batman. It's a chocolate bar wrapped in a tortilla. The chocolate melts onto his gloves and he drops the tortilla down a sewer grate

Age 24: He makes an ice cream cookie sandwich to eat while he and Batgirl work on a case, but he's so engrossed in the work that he doesn't notice it melt until Babs points it out

Age 25: He enters the first annual Justice League cook-off and immediately gets banned from ever entering again

Age 26: He tries to comfort little Dickie Grayson by making fried cornbread from a book of Roma comfort recipes. It turns out about as well as you'd expect when you give Bruce Wayne hot oil. Bruce is genuinely bummed out, but Dick says it's the thought that counts

Age 27: Clark delivers a huge hunk of beef from the farm. Instead of waiting for Alfred to come back, Bruce and Dick try to break it down with a power saw

Age 28: Bruce and Dick's latkes are burned so badly they can play floor hockey with them

Age 29: He makes stuffed mushrooms. Badly. Like imagine the worst way you can fuck up a mushroom. It still won't compare to what Bruce did. And it's for a potluck with the West-Allens that Barry won't let him live down

Age 30: Bruce sees Dick struggling to make ravioli and he's like "Let me show you how it's done" before proceeding to make it infinitely worse

Age 31: Bruce sees a hungry Jason Todd and the first thing he does when they return to the manor is make a double-decker bread sandwich. That's bread with two more slices of bread in between

Age 32: Bruce packs Dick and Jason's lunchboxes when Alfred is out of town. They're supposed to include a salad. Instead, Dick gets a whole head of lettuce and Jason's is just a bottle of ranch

Age 33: He makes hot chocolate after patrol... but forgets the chocolate

Age 34: The Manor is too cold, so Bruce tries to warm it up by making Jason's favorite soup. His hands shake the whole time. Suddenly, he's eight years old again, sitting on the kitchen floor surrounded by scraps reminding him of his failure

Age 35: Jack and Janet Drake are out of the country again, leaving young Timmy by himself. Bruce decides to bring some dinner over. It's baked perfectly, but it's full of things that shouldn't be anywhere near a casserole dish. They end up ordering takeout and watching old detective movies together

Age 36: Steph walks through how to make waffles. Bruce is standing there, watching closely and taking notes. They still come out looking radioactive

Age 37: Cass asks if they can get smoothies. Bruce says he can make them at home. She gives him a warning look but that's not enough to stop him. Cue Bruce forgetting to put the lid on the blender

Age 38: Jason's first night back at home, Bruce tries to make that soup. It shoots out like a geyser and hits the lights. He's panicking until he hears Jason laugh, and then the soup doesn't matter

Age 39: Damian screws up hummus and he desperately tries to hide it so people won't see him as inadequate at something so basic. Instead of getting upset, Bruce assures him it's okay and offers to fix it. (He doesn't fix it, he just makes it worse)

Age 40: Bruce's birthday happens while he's fake-dead and away from home. He grabs a convenience store cupcake and sticks a single candle on it. Then he closes his eyes, pretends his family is around him, and makes a wish. (The candle droops and sets the hotel sheets on fire)

Age 41: Back at the Manor, he attempts to make lemonade on a particularly hot day. Selina offers to help, but Bruce declines, saying, "How hard can it be?" (Spoiler alert: it's not supposed to be full of seeds)

Age 42: Kate shows him a video of Canadians pouring maple syrup into the snow to make candy, so he gets her to boil the syrup so they can do it together. The problem comes when they can't control the pour and end up with a glob the size of Damian

Age 43: As part of a school project, Bruce and Duke try to deduce the Coca-Cola secret formula. Duke's teacher takes a point off because at the beginning he told her he'd taste the results, but there's no way he's doing that now

Age 44: The family gets together to make a full English breakfast Alfred's birthday. Each person takes a part—Dick has eggs, Jason has the grilled tomatoes, Tim has mushrooms, Duke has the bacon, Steph and Cass are tag-teaming the sausages, Damian just has to open a can of beans, and Bruce needs to put bread in the toaster. It goes South immediately when Damian reaches for his katana instead of the can opener

Age 45: Bruce puts tinfoil in the microwave. Alfred shakes his head and laughs

[vanillablankcanvas]

Part 4 Trolls Headcanons/ Theories/ Thoughts/ Ideas

Part1 Part2 Part3 Part5 Part6 Part7 Part8 Part9 Part10

Bruce - theorizes that his daughter LaBreezy will be the one to take over the restaurant.

Bruce - tries developing and inventing his own recipes, Brandy has to remind him that not everyone can handle as much sugar as a Troll can. He reels it back a bit.

Bruce - makes specific food for different reasons. E.g. makes bread when he's angry so he can take it out on the dough, makes lasagnas so he can use the leftovers as an excuse to visit someone, makes spicy dishes when he wants revenge.

John Dory - has been arrested before, he changes the reason everytime someone asks.

John Dory - occasionally uses 'chewing tobacco' (which honestly in the Trolls-verse would be some kinda chewing gum 😂)

John Dory - serial flirt (very bad at it, he thinks he's great at it)

John Dory - does weird stuff because of his isolation e.g. will eat what's left over on the plates when Bruce's customers leave, will ask when the baby's due but they're just overweight, will go into detail about gutting a fish in front of Trollings.

John Dory - can open a wine/champagne bottle with his machete and light a match with his teeth

Clay - occasionally tutors math to Trollings.

Clay - has a decent sized nest egg

Clay - graduated highschool early

Clay - has business cards stored in his hair

Clay - knows how to tie different knots for neckties.

Clay - can spin a pen around his fingers

Clay - is thinking of getting his own critter transportation

Floyd - was 100% sure he was going to die in the bottle. He now has a new outlook on life after being given a second chance.

Floyd - wants a long term relationship but is afraid of getting attached and being used.

Floyd - practices advanced yoga

Floyd - has developed claustrophobia

Floyd - released one solo album, one limited run, it was mentioned he is a former member Brozone on the cover to boost sales. It was a flop. This crushed Floyd.

Branch - toying with the idea of building plans for a Pop Village Castle. (Secretly a fortress)

Viva - biggest Broppy shipper. Already has their wedding planned in her head.

Viva - adrenaline junkie

Viva - no sense of personal space

Tiny Diamond - checks on Branch and Poppy's egg daily asking if his new BFFL is here yet.

Pop Trolls - King Peppy invented all these bizarre holidays when they were trapped in the Troll tree to keep hope alive and to boost morale.

Putt-Putt Trolls - all delayed having Trollings worrying for their future safety. The very few eggs that hatched are hidden and protected by the whole tribe. (Putt-Putt baby names: Birdie, Par, Ace, Caddie, Fore, Eagle, Divot, Links, Scramble) Clay and Viva were present for every one of them hatching.

Rhonda - locks JD outside when she's annoyed with him. "Who needs you, I wanted to sleep on this rock anyway!"

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Here's a beautiful little 1852 church in the idyllic town of Greenwich, CT. It has 3bds, 3ba, and is priced at $1.8M. But, WHY did they buy a picturesque church only to gut it and change it into a modern home?

They even replace the door with a contemporary design.

I feel that this wall was added b/c I doubt that this church would've originally had a narrow hallway.

Closet in the hall at the entrance to the main living area.

The only indication that it was a church would be the windows that were more than likely replace with clear glass.

Look at how they enclosed the choir loft with curved wood.

The kitchen is spacious under the former choir loft, so this must've been the original altar area. I'm not saying that it isn't a beautiful home, it's just that I don't like that an historic church was gutted.

If they wanted a new build, they should've built or bought one.

There's a hallway with closets and a bath beside the stairs. It has nice mint green mosaic tiles.

It appears that a wall was built around the main body of the church, encompassing the living room/kitchen & creating a long narrow hall around it. I feel a little claustrophobic.

Upstairs, the primary bedroom has a cathedral ceiling.

En-suite with an egg-shaped tub.

Since it's a small country church, if you're wondering where the other bedroom & bath are, they're in the basement.

As a man cave. I don't know, the whole layout seems awkward.

.39 acre lot.

The original bell is on the steps on the right.

Details of the beautiful steeple.

https://www.elliman.com/connecticut/sales/detail/593-l-586-51_120367/1035-north-street-greenwich-ct-06831