#fcaf

[jamesliskutin]

One of my grandfather's RAF issue watches. This was issued to him in February 1942 after his prior issue watch was damaged during bailing out of his MkVb Spitfire DU - U R6833 over Lampeter Wales (Feb 22nd 1942) he struck the tail fin. I also have a photo of him the day after when he was issued his new watch. (notice no watch) General M. A. LIŠKUTÍN DFC AFC RAF 312 FREE CZECHOSLOVAK SQUADRON. #RAF #AIRSHOWNEWS #LISKUTINTOK #LISKUTIN #CZECHREPUBLIC #CZECHOSLOVAKIA #ww2 #fcaf #freeczechoslovakairforce

[atc74]

Fast Cars and Freedom - Part 4

As the story of Dean and our reader evolves, I felt the aesthetic needed to grow as well. Catch up here.

Word Count: 3955

Warnings: Hospitalization, major illness, pregnancy, labor (not graphic) and so many damn feels. This is super flangsty. 

A/N: This was originally inspired by the song Fast Cars and Freedom by Rascal Flatts (duh) but has now taken on a life of it’s own, as so often happens. I am not sure how many more parts I will do, but I know it isn’t over just yet. If you have ideas for future parts that you think may inspire - send me an ask!

A/O/N: Previous chapters have all been from Dean’s POV, but to make this one work, it will be from our reader’s POV. Italics indicate flashbacks. Many, many thanks to my bestie @just-another-busy-fangirl for once again being the best beta ever. Thanks to @iwantthedean and @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms​ for their help with the medical stuff. It pays to know people, people! Love you girls!

“Do you remember the last time we were in this very hospital together?” Dean asked me, as I sat next to him in the waiting room. It was nearing midnight and our six and eight year old sons were asleep in the double chair in the corner of the room: Will on one end, RJ on the other.

We had gotten a call from Ellen, my step-mother, about two hours ago that my dad was being rushed to Sioux Falls General. We packed up the boys and drove to the hospital. I was tired, already eight months along in this third pregnancy, and rested my head against my husband’s shoulder as he held me close. He always has been my rock, even if he didn’t know it at the time.

“Yeah, I do remember, Dean. That was an awful night,” I recalled. “I still remember exactly what I was doing when you called me.”

“Y/N?!” Dean’s voice crackled through the old dorm phone, but I could hear the panic in it and my heart started to race.

“Dean? What’s wrong?” I shot up straight in my bed, knocking my books to the floor.

“Y/N, it-it’s Bobby. He had a heart attack. We’re at the hospital. I need you, Kid,” Dean’s voice broke as he tried to hold back his tears.

“Dean, take care of my dad. I will be there in three hours. I love you,” I told him, trying to keep myself and Dean calm, though I was breaking down on the inside. I had already lost my mom, but Dean had lost both his parents.

“I love you, Y/N. Please drive safe,” Dean insisted.

“I will, I promise.” I placed the phone back on the receiver and began to throw things in my bag. I didn’t need much as I still had clothes at home, but I needed my books. I put on boots, grabbed my cell phone and charger, a coat and my keys and I was out the door in under five minutes, running to my car.

Dean took good care of my car and I knew I could push her limits, but that didn’t stop her from protesting a little when I pressed harder on the gas pedal as soon as I hit the entrance ramp for I-29 South. I made what should have been a three and a half hour drive in a little over two and half. I pulled into the hospital lot and ran through the front doors screaming my father’s name at the poor woman at the front desk.

“Miss, please keep your voice down,” she scolded me as she looked at me over the rim of her glasses.

“My father had a heart attack and you want me to keep my voice down? Fine,” I challenged her, my voice at a lower decibel. “My name is Y/N Singer. My father is Robert Singer and you better tell me where he is right now or I swear to God I will smack those ugly ass glasses off your fat face!”

“Room 452,” she spat. I could still hear her as I headed for the elevator, mumbling under her breath about the disrespect of today’s youth.

I was out of the elevator before the doors opened completely, taking off at a run checking room numbers as I went. I wasn’t paying attention and I ran smack dab into someone in my hurried search. “Son of a bitch!”

“Y/N?!” the voice sounded familiar as I looked up.

“Sammy!” I wrapped my arms around him as hard as I could, not wanting to let him go. “Where is my dad, Sam?”

“Right here, Y/N/N,” his voice was soft and deep, calming me slightly as I entered the room. My dad was laying so still, a nasal cannula providing oxygen and wires sticking out from under the hospital gown. He looked so pale and small, smaller than I have ever seen him look before.

I stood frozen in place just inside the door just watching him breathe. I didn’t even register that Sam had entered the room with me, or that anyone else was there. All I could focus on was my dad.

“Kid, I am so glad you’re here,” Dean’s voice shattered the quiet of the room and the noise in my head and I threw myself at him, snaking my arms around his neck and burying my face in his flannel. It smelled of exhaust and oil, but the smell was so Dean I was comforted, not caring that it was dirty. I was home.

I felt his arms envelop me and I allowed myself to cry for the first time since he had called me. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to provide any words of comfort; he just held me like he knew I needed. I took what I needed from him for several minutes, before letting go and walking over to the bed, taking my dad’s hand in my own; they were always so much bigger than mine.

“Dean, what happened?” I asked, not taking my eyes off my father’s face.

“He was in the pit this morning, we had a few oil changes. Everything was fine, he came up more than usual today though. I asked him if something was wrong. He told me I worry too much and brushed me off. I found a bottle of aspirin in his office though. We had just finished up on the Sheriff’s cruiser when I heard him drop his wrench. I quickly ran down and he was on the floor. I threw him over my shoulder, hauled him up the stairs. Sheriff Mills was still there so she called it in and the ambulance was there real quick and they loaded him up. I grabbed Sammy and the Sheriff drove us here,” Dean recounted the events and I listened carefully.

“The doctor said he suffered what she called an NSTEMI heart attack, something about a blocked artery,” Dean paused as the door opened and a doctor peeked her head in.

“Ms. Singer?” the doctor looked at me. She was petite woman with dark brown hair and a kind face.

“Yes, I am Y/N Singer, his daughter,” I confirmed.

“I am Dr. Sullivan, may I speak with you in private a moment?” she looked between Sam and Dean before making eye contact with me once more.

“Dr. Sullivan, my father is Sam Winchester’s legal guardian, same with his brother, Dean, when he was a minor. They’re family; whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of them,” I answered calmly, more calm than I felt.

“Ms. Singer, based on his blood work and the electrocardiogram, your father suffered, an NSTEMI heart attack, or non-ST segment elevation myocardial infarction. I have already given him some nitroglycerin, which will relieve some of the chest pain and improve blood flow. I will also be prescribing a blood thinner and a beta-blocker,” she informed us.  

“When can he go home?” Dean probed the doctor. He wanted out of this place as fast as possible.

“I would like to keep him a couple days for observation. What type of work does he do?” Dr. Sullivan inquired.

“He is a mechanic; owns his own shop. Dean works with him,” I replied, already flying on autopilot.

“Ms. Singer, Mr. Winchester, I am also putting him on light duty restrictions, which means for the next month, paperwork only. He can still drive, but nothing more strenuous than replacing a wiper blade or headlight. He also needs to follow up with his cardiologist in a week. Do you have any questions for me?” Dr. Sullivan asked.

I looked to Dean for confirmation and he shook his head. “Not at this time, Dr. Sullivan. Thank you for taking care of my dad.” I smiled, looking her in the eye. She returned it and walked out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

“I am going to get some coffee. You guys want anything?” Sam asked us.

“Yeah, coffee would be great, Sammy,” Dean replied.

“Yes, please. And thank you, Sam,” I smiled at the not so little boy who had become my family.

“Since when did he get so tall? I was just home two weeks ago!” I exclaimed when he left the room.

“Since when does driving safe mean ninety the whole way?” Dean ignored my question, raising his eyebrows.

“Since you take good care of my girl and I know she can handle it,” I replied nonchalantly.

“I will always take good care of both of you, you know that, Kid,” Dean pulled up a chair next to me, pulling my free hand into his lap and holding tightly.

“When school is over, I am transferring, Dean. I can’t be that far away if something happens. I need to be here for him,” I sniffed, swiping at my eyes in frustration.

“You don’t have to do that, Y/N. I can take care of the old man and Sammy,” Dean assured me.

“Babe, I know you can and it isn’t that I don’t trust you to do it. But what if something worse happens and I am not here? I’m too far away. Besides, finals are next week and then I am home for the summer anyway. I need to be home with my boys,” I admitted. “I need to make sure you are all eating healthy and not gorging on junk food all day! ”

“Hey! Sam makes us eat vegetables!” Dean joked, cracking a smile for the first time since I arrived at the hospital and it made my heart melt.

“Thank you for being there for him, Dean. And for me,” I rested my head on his shoulder and he held me tight. Moments later, a knock at the door brought us back to the real world.

“Hi there. I am Ellen, and I will be looking in on your dad for the next couple of nights while he is here. I just need to check his vitals and I will be out of your hair,” she was an older woman, about Dad’s age if I had to guess. She was pretty with light brown hair and eyes that lit up when she smiled at us.

“Will ya idjits just go home so I can get some rest already? Ya done nothing but blabber since ya got here. Quit yer fussing and git,” Dad opened his eyes and glared at us.

“Now Mr. Singer, is that any way to talk to your children?” Ellen teased.

“Well hi there. You can call me Bobby,” Dad smiled at her and she smiled back.

“Alright, Bobby. How are you feeling?” Ellen asked as she checked all the monitors.

“Like I could use a nap and these brats won’t stop running their mouths,” he scoffed.

“Well, how about I kick them out since visiting hours are over anyway?” Ellen gave him a smile.

“Yeah, then you and I can have some alone time, get to know each other?” Dad winked at her.

“Dad! You could have died today and you’re flirting with your nurse?” I blurted out.

“You only live once, Pumpkin. I ain’t wasting any more time,” he declared.

“Robert, let’s get you better, first. One step at a time, okay Cowboy?” Ellen laughed and we joined her, not noticing the perplexed look on Sam’s face when he returned with the coffees.

“What’d’I miss?” Sam asked.

“Bobby flirting with his nurse and she is giving it right back,” Dean answered.

~*~

The next few months were hard on all of us. Dad stayed in the hospital two days, and I stayed home two more after that. I had been communicating with my professors so I didn’t miss anything and aced my finals the week after that. Dean had driven up with Dad’s old pickup and together we packed up my dorm room.

“Come on. Let’s get you home,” Dean opened my car door for me.

“No place I would rather be,” I kissed him passionately before climbing in and starting her up.

Sam was working at the county library full time that summer and Dean hired someone part-time at the shop at Dad’s insistence.

“Boy, I ain’t gonna be around forever! It is about time you start learning the ropes around here,” Dad told him one night at dinner about a month after his heart attack.

“Bobby, you aren’t ready to retire yet,” Dean protested.

“No, I ain’t. But I kinda like this light duty thing. So you’ll run the shop, I continue to do the books and help out from time to time. But you gotta hire someone that can help out and operate the flatbed. I am too old to go out and tow wrecks and junkers in the middle of winter,” Dad added.

So Dean hired a man named Nate Williams. He was a local, married with two small boys and was looking for something less stressful than the dealership he had been working at and he would be getting more hours at Singer’s.

~*~

“It’s official. I will be a South Dakota State Jackrabbit come September!” I laid my admissions papers and transfer documents on the kitchen table.

“Pumpkin, that is still an hour away,” Dad grumbled as he picked up the papers, shuffling through them.

“I know, Dad. But the good news is I have been taking extra credits each semester anyway, so I only have three more to go. It is worth it if I get to be home with you,” I was sweet talking him and he knew it, but let me get away with it.

“Well, you are on dinner duty. Sam is at the library and Dean is in the shop,” Dad said as he stood and walked to the stairs. “I got me a date!”

“With the pretty nurse?” I presumed.

“With the hot nurse!” Dad corrected, laughing as he continued upstairs. “Don’t wait up!”

~*~

I heard footsteps and I lifted my head from it’s perch on Dean’s shoulder, opening my eyes. My vision was blurry, but I could clearly hear Ellen’s voice as she whispered my name. I rose from the chair so quickly I startled Dean.

“Ellen!” I called out to my step-mom of thirteen years as she greeted me, hugging me tightly, despite the bump between us. She lovingly rubbed the swell of my belly.

“How is my granddaughter doing?” she smiled, her eyes lighting up, despite how tired she must be.

“Already giving us a run for our money,” I replied truthfully, rubbing my back. “How is Dad?”

“He is resting. They have already done the bloodwork and everything. They want him to rest first, but have already given him everything they did last time, but this one was different, Honey,” Ellen blinked back her tears.

“Worse?” I feared.

“Yeah, Baby. It’s what they call “the widowmaker” but somehow, through some grace of God, he made it. He will have to have a bypass this time,” Ellen elaborated.

“Ahhh oooohhh nooo,” I doubled over, clutching my stomach.

“Y/N!” I heard Dean and Ellen call for me at the same time.

“Oh shit, Dean, her water broke. Get a wheelchair!” Ellen commanded, staying calm, all her years of nursing paying off twice in one night.

“Dean, it’s too early,” I cried. “The boys!”

“There’s an extra bed in Dad’s room, I will bring them with me. You two go!” Ellen waved us off as another nurse escorted us to the maternity ward.

I was scared and nervous. I had both my boys at the specialty birthing hospital and my doctor wasn’t here. What if something went wrong? It was too early.

“Kid, I know what you are thinking and it’s going to be just fine. It’s not all that early, just three weeks, and Will was two weeks early. She is going to be just fine; perfect like her Mama,” Dean murmured words of encouragement the entire trip up to the eighth floor.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Winchester. Little one can’t wait, huh?” the doctor greeted us, a warm smile on his face. “I am Dr. Fisher. Let’s get you into a room so we can see what is going on in there, okay?”

“Dean…” I cautioned my husband and he just followed the nurse into the private room.

“Okay, Mom and Dad. Here is your gown. Just go ahead and get changed and I will be back with the doctor in a few. I am Ana by the way,” she called out as she left the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Who are these people? Why are they so chipper? It is two in the morning!” I practically screamed at Dean.

“Baby, I need you to calm down just a little, okay? Let me help you change and into bed. Then I will call Ellen and tell her what room we are in,” Dean was calm and it was starting to piss me off. This baby was three weeks early and I knew enough to know it was probably due to stress and my dad, but we were not ready just yet for her. We hadn’t even picked out a name yet.

“Yeah, okay, let’s do this,” I breathed out as another contraction hit. “Ahhh fuck!”

“Okay, kid. In and out; slow breaths. You can do this,” Dean breathed right along with me.

I looked up into his bright green eyes that I have loved for so many years. I was impressed that he remembered the breathing exercises from our birthing classes over a decade ago when RJ was born. The contraction passed just as the doctor knocked and walked in.

“Mrs. Winchester, I want to get you hooked up to the fetal monitor and see how your little trooper is doing and we are going to get you examined, too,” Dr. Fisher explained.

“Y/N, please,” I breathed out, feeling another one coming on and gripped Dean’s hand tightly.

“That is two minutes apart Doc, we don’t have time for this. She is coming now,” Dean relayed to the doctor.

“Right, let’s take a look, shall we?” Dr. Fisher covered my legs with a sheet. Ana was right there and pulled out the stirrups and a portable lamp.

“Y/N, I am going to need you to push when you feel the next contraction, alright? I can see the baby’s head, so this is going to be quick,” Dr. Fisher was suddenly all business and that actually calmed me down. I needed no nonsense at this point, not someone trying to my best friend; he was already here.

“It’s coming!” I shouted and squeezing Dean’s hand once more, I beared down as Ana counted.

Fifteen minutes later, our daughter made her debut into this world, screaming her little lungs out, at 2:35 in the morning. She weighed a respectable six pounds eight ounces and was 20 inches long. After the doctors and nurses left, I closed my eyes and thought about all that had happened in the last five hours: I thought my dad was dying, then my daughter was born. Emotions were running at an all time high and I broke down. Tears of relief flowed freely as I looked over at my husband, cradling our newborn daughter in his arms, cooing softly to her just as he had done with both our boys. I could tell my the look on his face and the tears in his eyes, she already had him wrapped around her little finger.

“Hey, Handsome,” I whispered and Dean looked over at me, a look of concern crossing his features.

“Hey, Kid, what’s wrong?” Dean asked as he rushed to me, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, one arm supporting our baby, the other wrapped around me.

“I’m okay; I’m happy, Dean. My dad is okay and our baby girl is here. I am relieved that everything worked out today; it is just a lot to take all at once,” I confessed.

“I know, Kid. I know. Look at our little girl, Y/N; she is perfect. You did good,” he looked down at me with so much love in his eyes.

“We did good, Dean. Now we just need some rest, but first, pass me our daughter, let’s see if she catches on as fast as her brothers did. Oh God! The boys! We need to tell everyone!” I gasped.

“We will. Let’s get some sleep first,” Dean kissed me and we both gazed down at our baby girl as she latched onto my breast and started suckling. Time seemed to pass quickly as she fed and soon Ana was back with a bassinet to take her to the nursery. We kissed our baby goodnight and then Dean stretched out on the sofa while I curled onto my side and slept.

~*~

Morning came quickly and before I was even finished with breakfast, a nurse was back with our daughter and the phone was ringing. She passed Dean the phone and me the baby for her morning feeding.

“Yes, Ellen, everything is just fine. We will be down in a an hour or so. I will, Okay, love you, too,” Dean placed the phone back on it’s cradle and just laughed.

“She can’t believe we haven’t brought her down yet. The boys are bouncing around and your dad is awake,” Dean relayed his conversation as both you and the baby finished your meals. “I also called Sammy, asked him to run by the house and grab the bags, he should be here any minute.”

As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door. “Is that my beautiful niece?” Sammy’s voice filled the small room.

“Hey, Sammy, come meet her,” I smiled up at him, and passed her to Dean, while covering myself back up.

She looked even smaller in her uncle’s large arm than she did in Dean’s. “She is going to be so spoiled forever.”

“Yeah, she is,” Sam replied, a stupid grin etched into his face, making his dimples pop even more than usual.

I eased myself out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. Although I wasn’t as sore as I was with either of the boys, I still had some discomfort so the leggings and flannel I pulled on felt like heaven on my skin. I quickly brushed my teeth and hair, washed my face and was ready to head down to see the rest of our family.

~*~

“Knock, knock,” Dean rapped on the door of my dad’s room before pushing me through the opening. I was immediately swarmed by Ellen and both our sons, gushing over the newest addition to our family.

Dean and Sam made their way to Dad’s bed, greeting him with a handshake and a quick hug. Ellen pushed me closer and I eased myself out of the wheelchair. I rested my behind on the edge of Dad’s bed. “I would like you to meet your granddaughter,” I passed him the sleeping pink bundle.

“Hey Pumpkin, you can call me Papa,” Dad was already smitten with her and I couldn’t blame him really; we all were.

“Mom! Mom! Mom! What’s her name?!” Will started jumping up and down.

I looked over at my husband with raised eyebrows. He replied with a shrug.

“Boys, meet your sister; MaryEllen Grace Winchester; she is named after your grandmothers,” I announced and looked over at Ellen. Tears sparkled in her eyes and she wrapped me in a hug, holding tight.

“Thank you,” she whispered in my ear. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I told her, my face buried in her hair.

Tags - feel free to do the thing: @iwantthedean @chelsea072498 @paintrider13-blog @d-s-winchester @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @just-another-busy-fangirl @winchesterprincessbride @waywardjoy @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @mamaredd123 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @sis-tafics  @katymacsupernatural @tankcupcakes  @death2thevirgin  @wonderange @padackles2010 @smoothdogsgirl @meeshw777 @tmccarney @milkymilky-cocopuff  @ashstrom87 @zeppo-in-a-trenchcoat @scorpiongirl1 @gemini75eeyore @katewatso @cosmicpeanuthologram @jotink78 @l8nitl0vr @supernaturalyobsessed @memphisgirl1977 @bmcnally85  @ruprecht0420 @mskitty416 @theoriginalvicki @hexparker @nanie5 @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @sandlee44 @fangirl1802 @moonstar86 @raylin19 @niamandthings  @feelmyroarrrr @kittenofdoomage @t-bear99 @hamartiamacguffin @colorfulobjectenemy @uttertrash--butlikecutetrash  @sammieb1127 @evyiione @you-didnt-see-that-cuming @moshingatthedisco  @winchestersmut  @alicat-life @mogaruke @cyrilconnelly @growningupgeek @charliebradbury1104 @evansrogerskitten @therewillbeblood @docharleythegeekqueen @megansescape @taste-of-dean  @scarlet-soldier-in-an-impala  @deathtonormalcy56 @wildfirewinchester @notnaturalanahi @jensen-jarpad @impalaimagining @fangirlextraordinaire @itseverythingilike @jesspfly @love-kittykat21 @mrswhozeewhatsis @aiaranradnay @supernatural-jackles @samwinlover @iamnotsaneatall @autopistaaningunaparte @blacktithe7 @emoryhemsworth @dracotomanddeansprincess23 @bringmesomepie56 @devilgirlsarah @spnbaby-67 @holytrenchcoatedsubtextchuck @emilycollins11 @myoutletforfanfiction @deansangelgirl @mizzzpink @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel @kayteonline @rockhoochie @wheresthekillswitch @percussiongirl2017 @fanfreak07 

Dean/Jensen only: @anokhi07 @perpetualabsurdity @txp87 @akshi8278  @iamabeautifulperson18 @suzannebeaketa @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @deandoesthingstome @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @boxywrites  @deansangelgirl @sparklesuperwholock88 @ericaprice2008  @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid  @winchestersnfriends

[caporal-poireau]

Green lights and fabric, nosebleeds, crowds, people that seem normal but Something Isn't Right, moths, trembling hands, voices overlapping..... And an axe

hmmm if you were the subject of a horror movie what would the symbolic imagery or recurring themes in it be for you... mine would be paralyzing guilt, slugs, one last bite of food left on a plate, fire at a distance

[incdogemporium]

Gen 5!

Misha

ch24EFF<a8418FC:8<F8DebFCa^C938E^39F1Ea;8d^30C109a903201F9F3278FhFAF0:e87bC12Ea5E8AC68:030D49438=BBC1E5:ba402:0;05a4:2:E<=Fc;b16:FA5F8a:;F15=;E4F<^5;B30=4F0C<5C230552a5FFB^29EFAbF0^60FC43C1E0F3jFF=iFAF63C39aUFA43F3BFLb65^E^TDD^080M30.031F0a0371=2sCAC6^Ea<A5E:3^FFe69FF8Db804b90DDa4a<78539F300Aka3000FA0C80

Legsy

09A8FA800FFFFgC8C30C5FB663FE2c9E^40c=11U:<5FB99CC;8D88;8822BB11C^fEcc38Db4^C038:E18aF650C0029061FA8gCA283:1820:90360:1c8:21<c:;473<=dFDb=0;74=32<ch0aAd2;5:1366;<cF69C32Eb75D9T5^1a8Ff2CFFE00DF9bF:38:F:FCy6:80a39.^CLDb01b154024e-Cc^8aE0:bCbcs^F00823FL3BF^3D^88aCE4D9F8EE7F^0A4a32EB0=2^bAE931EF018eC99e31

Rosey Twilight

5388:4035bE^732F0338^1B361A^23DFFfBFF3y0FA^gF180Cbf<b30U011834iB9c09B33370c7F01680ab45caBs728<11BB9hBEo9d3a6C0e=7E;7961cF2:5e8;cb6400121=<F675bF;^F2:CF<b93a=0:<6aC<aa<D6165^Ca22=D2B3bF<88:FF0CC^:41F8C01CF^=D8a C8F^da3.6gLTF:ACEd<b021C^ERATwF8FB8t3D10E0048d33E:liEh9c3C3310b9FF9^33CF1Eb:00:81C23b<CF6bEF822B3D808:AAbF

✨ Boardwalk ✨

0F82F8060F74c2a3FF0FF^5bCda2^aC38CE00F3d3AFa12CkCdB31CFC^193F8E4rB5E18F6088C7C19B13124D64F19<A51:C3:Fa1aCl=D0a4:0==c3F6a:h:;<2;A625=<6;088=00E^::F0b<8=3b70Dd23FA<dcE4F:DfbADC^2^B63<AE4;CC488FCFF<^aUTC3LA1<FCF7aA3Ad.dcD:299Fo1a0618f80B611F2EwDFFd62BC6AFdE587Fdt4^FfF6=70BE9C508B3EdE1c7^g3341CD876;8^a^

Luna

cF0FCF08AF:C35BD3801T9A;06B96F85aB7aB37E84:13141EAA^b0bL8d1317bdB^<b120804817;09.B7305390Adb8BE<FFa:c0270b11DcFF4c::4242::=:2063b<3a23D:cdbcCa:B:CA20C3124<F0F8;1E30<754^3^0DD;560a-cdF12c3FFf==113uFEeFaFCA2A3BA^a:EFb38BF201;^U901^2A^L0c196D:qE7bC:En289DC51DA9857^140F5Fa7E5^8hC12801:3AF9d^907a8b0B0d9;03

Stripes

8EFFD869bA:03bFFBCB^137FC.0A90ACEA111<b8aj2Ac0;F0S9D7^3FbE009464bd6BeFB08CC7AD92CaD324A65e282:9BEEp0r7CFF63Ci6Ba1;1a;322b3:01=60;;CC:hC16F^0E:F3a<:b2FBa5:=CFFaD93523C=<c73F84=3AFFUbCT2F090E37B7bC^1F131<4^4FFC8tBE30BA8^LF1^8^A80^F=F=^c^21b39728002<b0bCC1B:BFD7s=a4C71CA<aCDF9FFED8DdDe1CA=D6<373360E118c0Fb:8830

Grape

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Hi! I just finished reading FCAF and I loved it! It really is a great story and your writing is incredible! I don’t mean to pry, but I was wondering, are you planning on continuing the fic?

Thank you so much! Yes, I absolutely am planning on continuing it and am actively working on it :) It's been a slow process due to a variety of factors and life in general, and I still don't know when I might be done. But I have no plans to ever drop this story.

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I look at this photo of Mark Ruffalo skateboarding whenever I feel sad

When everything feels hopeless (which is often these days), I know just where I'll find a spot of brightness in lieu of a planet that is not melting and a government that protects its citizens.

On March 8, 2014, Mark Ruffalo changed my life for the better, and I can never thank him enough. The actor, activist, and Cool Dad hit the streets of New York City to spread joy to the masses. And all it took was skateboarding and taking photos at the same time. 

SEE ALSO: In praise of Justin Bieber's eccentric Instagrams

Get you a man that can do both.

Image: josia kamau/BuzzFoto/FilmMagic

Ruffalo, with distinguished gray sideburns, looks like he just stepped out of a Warby Parker store. Note his sensible shoes, perfect fatherly footwear. Ruffalo's portrait subject? His son, Keen. Did you know Mark Ruffalo has a son name Keen? It's an underrated celebrity child name. 

Ruffalo wears a baby blue button down and you can just imagine him spotting another dad or five at a PTA meeting wearing a similar shirt (they all have that shirt) and cracking a joke, "Glad you got the memo!" It's not funny, but they all laugh, because Ruffalo has an irresistible twinkle in his eyes. 

Around this time in Ruffalo history, his film, The Normal Heart was about to premiere and he was prepping to film Spotlight. That's heavy stuff, and according to what I believe about the love interest in 13 Going on 30, he's a sensitive dude. 

What a beautiful moment of relief to stop at the park atop his board and take some portraits, in true Cool Dad fashion. Did he take up photography to get into character as Matt Flamhaff, who helped Jenna Rink realize her creative vision and also find true love via time travel? He's so committed to his craft!

Mark Ruffalo, I love this photo as much as you hate fracking.

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Service charge at restaurants will no longer bite out your wallet

Service charge at restaurants will no longer take a bite out of your wallet as the Centre this week made the levy optional. However, the move has triggered turbulence with heated spats breaking out between patrons and employees at pubs and eateries.

READ: NRAI's take on levy of service charge in restaurants

Altercations have become almost inevitable, suggested scores of managers across restaurants in Delhi, awaiting a final verdict over the advisory. FHRAI, the apex body of hotels and restaurants in the country, has appealed to the department of consumer affairs for withdrawal of the notification.

Sevice charge refusals at an alarming rate

Service charge is over and above the service tax and other tariffs levied on a restaurant bill and usually ranges from 5-20 per cent.

"It was not a mandatory charge before January 3 and customers could refuse, but now we are seeing refusals at an alarming rate. Yesterday, I resolved a number of fights over service charge payments," Vikas Bhat, manager at the Warehouse Cafe in Connaught Place, told MAIL TODAY.

Experts say

Experts feel the government should completely abolish the service charge to avoid any confusion or friction. A statement from the department of consumer affairs clarified on Monday that in cases where the customer is not satisfied with the service at hotels and restaurants, payment of service charge is "completely discretionary and should a customer be dissatisfied with the dining experience, he/she can have it waived off".

READ: Don't like paying service charge in restaurants? You have an option now

Bhat, however, voiced the industry concerns, stressing that the levy was important for the health of the hospitality sector. "It is not right to make the customers the judge to decide on paying for services rendered by my staff in all circumstances. But I don't have a choice any more as being a server I cannot indulge in a fight with my customers," he said.

Delhiites welcome Centre's decision

Many Delhiites have welcomed the government move that, some said, had softened to an extent their demonetisation woes. "If I want to appreciate the service extended by a restaurant, I will tip the waiter, like I always do. To my surprise, the hotel stewards have received me with more generosity and courtesy in the last two days and I have been made to feel like a king," said Anmol Kawatra, an executive with a top private firm in Delhi who was visiting an eatery.

Clashes between foodies and restaurants

The clash of interests between foodies and their favourite eating joints does not bode well for the business, say observers.

"I am most definitely expecting fights if this confusion prevails," said a manager of a renowned restaurant in Khan Market. Harry, manager of the city's Lord of the Drinks chain, has acted swiftly. "To avoid any untoward situation with patrons, I pasted a notice at the entrance of my establishment that we will collect 10 per cent service charge," he said.

Restaurants have also rejected allegations that they "pocket the service charge". Many in the industry also raised questions over the future of the workers. "The advisory will impact a workforce of 5.8 million," said Riyaaz Amlani, president of the National Restaurant Association of India (NRAI).

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