#he would if he could but he bi

[drulalovescas]

Society if Dean Winchester was able to act normal around handsome men

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

Fic Idea where Fiddleford helps Stan rebuild the portal, but Stan finds out that Fiddleford has a wife and he's like

"You have a WIFE?? That DIDN'T marry you to steal your car and money???? What are you DOING here???"

"Yeah, well.... She's better off thinking I'm dead somewhere....."

"A WIFE. That LOVES you. Get outta here and go explain yourself, Idiot!!"

"She and our son shouldn't have to deal with--"

"YOUR SON???!!?!!??"

Anyways, so Stan helps Fiddleford reach out and explain himself to his wife, but expresses that he wants to keep being in Gravity Falls, so his wife and kid go to live with them in The Shack instead.

Blah blah blah, bonding happens, Stan bags Fiddleford AND his wife and becomes a step dad, God bless 🙏

[alchemistc]

i present my latest offering of an au first meeting: the poker game.

Big Blind

Tommy's been on plenty of bad dates in his time, but this one might actually take the cake for worst first date he's ever had. They're just -- not right for one another, and it's clear they can both feel it, but for some reason Jeff just -- keeps talking. About his border collie rescue, and his sixth fourteener (this year), and the his upcoming promotion and the Cybertruck he's thinking about getting wrapped in matte black --

"Jeff," Tommy cuts in, when he starts in on Tesla stock talk. "I'm gonna pay the check and head out. It's been..." he gestures. Considers calling Stout right here at the dinner table to tell him no more blind dates with his stock broker brother-in-laws friends, no matter how gay they are.

He's gonna get shit from Stout's wife the next time she stops by with a casserole, but honestly a half-hour tirade on politeness from Heather Alexandra Stout sounds better than learning how much of an Elon Musk fanboy Jeff really is. Jeff looks like he might be offended by the implication that he wouldn't have paid, but Tommy's already waving down his server and gesturing to the bar by the time Jeff even thinks to reach for his wallet.

"You have a good night."

Andrea slides his check under his elbow with a raised brow and doesn't say a word when he hands her his card immediately, but he can tell she's judging him. Third date in a month he's barely contained his disdain for long enough to pay up, although this is the first he's outright ditched before the bill was even paid.

Gary slides a beer across the bar to him and refuses the cash Tommy tries to give him for it. "Do I look that pathetic, Gary?"

Man of few words, Gary just taps his nose and tips his chin to his date, who is doing a terrible job of trying to sneak out the door.

"You're too good for him, anyway," says Andrea, back already with his card. He tucks an extra twenty into her folder and downs the beer in silence while they watch through the window as Jeff seems to get into an argument with the Uber pulling up in front of the restaurant.

"Maybe it's me," Tommy says, and Gary hums in commiseration. Or maybe he just has gas. "Maybe I'm the problem."

It's been a string of bad dates, and before that a relationship that'd gone up in metaphorical but nearly literal flames. Tommy's spent a lot of introspective time wishing he could kill Gerrard with lasers so that he doesn't have to blame himself for staying in the closet so long that blind dates and Grindr meetups were his real introduction to the dating scene.

"Someday, Tommy, you'll meet someone who can't get enough of your morbid humor and your pessimism and your obsession with haunted cars."

"One car," Tommy argues, although that's beside the point. "I think maybe I should give the search for love a break, Gary."

Gary hums, again.

Tommy drinks the rest of his beer in companionable silence and pulls up his phone to order an Uber himself. Jeff is, thankfully, long gone, and Tommy's halfway through confirming his home address when he remembers the invite he'd received last week that he'd hesitated scheduling a date around. He shoots off a text instead, and updates the address before he slides from the bar stool.

Gary shoots him a look. "Headed home?"

Tommy shifts on his feet. Shoots a look behind the bar. "Nah. Gonna try to hit up a work thing. Pour me a shot of Tullamore for the road?"

Gary accepts the twenty this time and doesn't make a comment about the way Tommy downs a sipping whiskey, which Tommy appreciates.

He's halfway to his destination, enjoying the chat with his driver, when the text comes in from Lucy.

Had to bail, but you should go if the date went that badly. Williams will enjoy slowly ruining the remainder of your night.

Tommy taps his phone once, twice, three times before he makes up his mind not to be the asshole who changes his destination halfway through the ride. Worst comes to worst, he'll tap out early and Venmo Mehta the rest of his stake.

Better than moping at home with the pint of freezer-burned Ben and Jerry's.

-----

He's fairly rushed down the stairs once he's in, because apparently Williams is on some sort of time crunch, or something, and he's fairly certain the drinks are catching up to him as he takes in the table. Mehta and Wilson are regulars, and he's seen Rosen around, but there are two new guys settling in across the table and Tommy has to take a long, long moment to remind himself this is technically a professional setting before he can look too closely at either one of them.

Yeah. Shit, he'd definitely drank most of that second pitcher by himself, listening to Jeff talk.

"Kinard. We weren't expecting you." Rosen's eyes glimmer with amusement. He'd caught maybe six months of her probationary year, but every time she sees him she likes to remind him of the first time she'd seen him post-transfer, at a gay bar in WeHo, and introduced him to the first guy he'd dated seriously in his entire life. Tommy returns the favor by reminding her exactly how terribly that had ended for all parties. "Poker night dress code usually includes more buttons than date night," she jabs, finger circling the olives in her martini glass, and Tommy contemplates tossing one of Mehta's chips at her. Her grin goes wide.

With the momentary distraction, Tommy feels a little more prepared to face the two men now eyeing him curiously.

"Tommy," he says, leaning over the table, hand out to shake. Turtleneck raises a curious eyebrow when Mr. Red Velvet Smoking jacket practically leaps across his lap to shake back. "I'm over at 217."

"This is Eddie," Red Velvet introduces, and Tommy's gaze dances between them, curious. "I'm Evan. We're with the -- wait, 217 -- Chimney's Tommy?"

Tommy's brows dance up the same time as Eddie's do. He is still shaking hands with Evan. Or - holding is more accurate, he supposes, but for the sake of his sanity and the possible date Evan and Eddie are on, if he's reading the introduction or any of the vibes right (they're both stunning and Tommy is smarting from another shitty date, so who knows), Tommy keeps it to shake in his mind. "Well I don't think Howie can claim ownership of my person, but -."

"Sorry, no, I just meant..." Evan's gaze drops to their clasped hands, still now over the felt of the poker table. He gives one more firm pump and drops Tommy's hand. "We're both at the 118. Pretty sure you helped save this guy's ass once." He tips a thumb sideways to indicate the man he'd introduced as Eddie.

Tommy's eyes drift. He's had a few drinks, and up until about halfway through the date he'd been expecting a very different outcome for his night, so he's maybe not keeping a lid on things the way he normally would in a work setting. He's guessing the ass he's purported to have saved would look great, if it weren't firmly planted in his chair and out of view. The rest of the view ain't bad, either.

And.

Shit.

Williams is giving him a look, which means he's not being even a little subtle. "The gas main explosion," Tommy finally gathers from the cobwebs of his brain, and wouldn't it be his luck to transfer out of the 118 just in time for two annoyingly attractive men who may possibly be boning each other to take his place.

Evan grins. Beams, more like, and Tommy slides firmly into his own chair and tries not to be blinded by it. Or entranced by it. God he needs to get laid. Get this - whatever this is - out of his system.

Tommy's cool. Tommy's calm and collected and he hadn't even had that much to drink, actually, so why is he having such a hard time behaving like he's had forty years of experience dealing with attractive men?

Tommy sorts through the memories.

Eddie he can pinpoint fairly easily -- he'd shot off a message to Chim the moment they'd learned one of the 118 had been shot, and had been happy to break the news of his recovery to an anxious Harbor station in the tense days after it had all gone down. Evan, though - he doesn't have a clue who that could be. He's still got a few buddies from B Shift he talks to on occasion, but he doesn't remember any stories about an Evan from them, and Howie hasn't mentioned one, either.

Of course, it's not like either one of them does a great job of keeping in touch.

The mystery is solved a moment later when Williams tips her head at him. "Feels like we're being overrun by the 118 tonight," she says with a grin, but her gaze slides to Evan, rather than Tommy. "And we've got an honest-to-goodness legend tonight."

"You know I still can't believe you survived that, Buckley," Mehta says, and the puzzle piece slots itself into place. "Uh, although we're all glad that you did."

Buckley. Tommy shifts. Reassesses. Eyes the glance between Diaz and Buckley like he's gonna figure out their deal while he's already four and a half drinks deep into the night and hasn't already heard the larger than life tales of this duo from half-a-dozen gossipy paramedics. According to some, there's a secret torrid love affair going on behind the scenes of their codependent friendship. According to others, the ones he more or less trusts not to stretch the truth too far, they're friends -- closer than most, and maybe a little weird about each other, but friends all the same.

Buckley's a shark. Or, if Williams is to be believed, a bit of a cheat.

As the game goes on, and the conversation drifts from the morbid details of Buckley's three-minutes-seventeen-seconds of lifelessness, past the special skills near death experiences are rumored to cause, past the time out where they'd all admired the pictures of Buckley's Lichtenburg scars ("They faded pretty quickly," Evan says, with a soft little frown like he's a bit disappointed not to have any physical proof beyond a few shots of his naked brick shithouse of a chest.) Tommy can't help but admire the shift from bashful to smirking and smug as Evan keeps racking up monumentally improbable hands. He's a bit of a brat, actually, and Tommy can feel Rosen's eyes burning into the side of his head every time he ups the ante just to watch the flicker of triumph aimed in his direction every time Evan wins a hand Tommy raised.

Tommy's no slob with cards, on a normal day, but he's too busy trying not to read anything into the way Evan's eyes keep drifting to the v of the shirt he hadn't buttoned back up just to spite Rosen, or the way he keeps licking his fucking lips every time Tommy takes a sip of the whiskey at his elbow to really care as his chips dwindle to nothing. Tommy can't be entirely sure, but it seems like maybe Evan pouts, a little, when Tommy pushes back from the table to join the rest of the losers crowded around to watch Williams, Mehta and Buckley battle it out.

He's trying to think of a subtle way to ask Howie if Evan Buckley is just like that with all the men in his life when Eddie slides in beside him with a refill on his whiskey. Tommy grimaces. "I shouldn't."

"Thought you were trying to drink away a bad date?"

Tommy shoots Rosen a glare over Eddie's shoulder, but she's too busy chasing her straw with her tongue to notice.

"He was a Tesla fanboy," Tommy intones, and the braces himself for the reaction. He's used to it, now -- the constant cycle of coming out and waiting to see which new acquaintances bow out of getting to know each other any better. This is... earlier, than he usually drops it, but he hasn't been in the mood to lie about it in years, and Eddie had asked. He gets a raised brow and a grimace.

"Don't tell me you didn't know ahead of time," Eddie says, and Tommy loosens the grip on his glass.

"Hazards of blind dating."

Eddie's look is commiserating. He tips his beer bottle against Tommy's rocks glass. "Yeah, my tia keeps finding reasons for me to run into the eligible daughters and granddaughters of all her friends." Which Tommy supposes is answer to half of the question that's been plaguing him since he sat down.

Buckley gets cocky a few times, but it's clear the night is going his way even before Jeshan Mehta's pot gets swept up in Evan's arms. Williams holds out as long as she can.

"Beginner's luck!" Buckley crows, when Williams' last chip is added to his pile. Eddie's been supplying him with a steady flow of drinks for the past thirty minutes, and his smile is crooked as he tilts backwards in his chair for a fist bump. His eyes flick to Tommy's once he's received his congratulations from Eddie, and Tommy pretends he's not a little bit fascinated by the pull of his jacket over his arms, or the way his closed hand lingers near Tommy's even after Tommy has smacked his knuckles against his as well.

Evan Buckley is frustratingly adorable. Tommy's had too many drinks for any kind of decent decision making. He bows out while Evan and Eddie are collecting his winnings.

-----

Tommy's eyes flick to the readout on his phone. He doesn't recognize the number, but it's a local area code, so he picks up on the forth ring. "Go for Kinard."

"Uh - hey, hi. Hey Tommy." The voice is familiar, sweet and low. "It's Buck - Evan. Evan Buckley. I uh -- I got your number from Chim, I hope that's alright?"

Tommy's got a solid fifteen minutes before he has to leave for work, a raging headache that has thus far refused to accept electrolytes or Advil as tribute to his overindulgence the previous evening, and a full understanding that he's going to spend his shift listening to Donato swear up and down she's the better option for finding him a man, but the voice on the other end of his phone might at least give the headache a run for it's money.

"Evan. Hi."

"Hey. So -- you dipped before I could ask -- which is fine, obviously, I'm not -- uh..." He pauses. Tommy can practically picture the way he wets his lower lip while he searches for the right words. "Anyway I was wondering -- would you maybe wanna grab a beer, sometime?"

Tommy spends about fifteen seconds rearranging his entire schedule in his mind. Says, cool, calm, collected: "Sure. When are you free?"

Evan's voice goes distant for a second -- he's putting Tommy on speaker. "I, uh -- I didn't expect you to say yes so quickly. Actually I didn't expect you to answer -- who answers unknown numbers, anymore?"

"Who calls expecting to get sent to voicemail?"

The brat rises up immediately. "Uh, literally everyone. The missed call is just an excuse to text. It's basic phone etiquette, Tommy."

Tommy likes the way he says his name. Soft, sweet and slow, rolling over his tongue like molasses. This feels incredibly like flirting, but he can't get a fucking read on this kid. "Clearly I've missed out on an important cultural shift. I can hang up and we can do this the right way, if you want."

"No!" It's sharp -- louder, like he's raising the phone back towards his mouth. Tommy can't hide the grin leaking across his face. "Uh -- no, it's fine. Too late, anyway, I already know you don't know phone rules."

"Hopefully that doesn't change your opinion of me too much."

"I could be convinced to ignore it, with the right incentive."

"I'll buy first round," Tommy says, and wonders if he's got any other shirts he can play off as fitting better with three buttons undone. The flirting should be enough, but -- Tommy's still not sure drinks isn't just drinks.

"Wednesday night," Evan says, voice further away again. Tommy has a sudden, desperate urge to see what his Google calendar looks like. For all that he'd cut loose at the poker game, Tommy bets it's color coded by type of activity. "If that works. Or Saturday, any time, really. I'm uh -- I'm free then."

If Tommy bows out of trivia on classic car week Cynthia will have a whole ass bitch fit. And it makes him seem a little less eager, to boot. "Saturday. I've got a shift early Sunday, though, so maybe something in the afternoon?"

"Yeah -- yes, th-that works." The stammering isn't something Tommy can get a read off of. He'd done it just as much with Eddie as he'd done with everyone else. "There's a new brewery just off Pico and Prosser -- Chim said you were a fan of craft beer?"

Sounding more date like by the minute, but -- some guys toe the line. Could be Evan Buckley just wants to know more about flight operations, for all Tommy knows. "Text me the details. Look, Evan, I'd love to stay on this rule-breaking phone call and chat but I've got to head in for a shift. Just -- let me know the plan." He's got five minutes to brush his teeth and rue the moment he'd asked Gary for his first whiskey of the night. He's also rolling back his last few sentences and cringing at how abrupt he'd been. "And yeah -- good to know Chim hasn't forgotten the three facts I ever told him about me."

Evan laughs, just a soft little huff but Tommy already knows the grin behind that sound is all sorts of knee-meltingly sweet. "Cool. So. Yeah, I'll text you."

"I'll talk to you later, Evan."

"Yep. Talk to you -- talk to you soon."

Tommy waits a moment in silence. The call doesn't end. "Goodbye, Evan."

Evan huffs out another awkward laugh. "Yeah. Bye, Tommy."

The call disconnects just in time for Tommy to press his forehead into the cool tile beside his bathroom mirror. He might be monumentally screwed if this isn't a date. He hasn't been this fucking charmed by a man since -- well, it's been a while.

Tommy's phone buzzes in his hand. It's a pinned address from a number he doesn't have saved. Tommy swipes into the contact and updates it before the next text makes it through. Saturday 3PM?

Tommy brushes his teeth, downs the rest of his preworkout in the hopes that it'll ease some of the nastier parts of his stupid decision to keep drinking liquor past midnight, and stares at the text all the way out to his truck.

See you then, Tommy sends back, and he has to toss his phone into his passenger seat when he gets a series of incomprehensible emoji's almost immediately in response.

He holds up a hand to Donato the moment she catches his gaze, halfway across the parking lot. The brow goes up, the hand slots to her hip, and she rolls her tongue over her teeth, clearly ready for her speech about how Stout doesn't have a clue how to find Tommy a proper date. Tommy has other problems.

"You worked with Evan Buckley, for a while, didn't you?"

Her head tilt rights itself. The second brow dances up to meet the first. Whatever she'd meant to say disperses behind her eyelids as she seems to work through something in her mind. "Oh, this is compelling," she says, and practically skips forward to loop her arm in his.

[spicyvampire]

4MINUTES (2024) DOCUMENTARY // EP. 6

[giddlygoat]

mario + peach is such a good ship istg they’re so good. straight ship so good it feels gay

[heynhay]

thinking abt kleah. and like, on one hand i like the idea of everyone else being the same gender-wise in vld except them. but on the other hand i always love the bits where keith's gaydar is too dookie to realize lance is bi or lance has to have a bi crisis so maybe i can make allura SO butch that kat is like damn....leah likes him..... and not women...... meanwhile leah is essentially walking around in a butch bait t shirt whether knowingly or not

[justanothershippingcan]

We were deprived of in-story interactions between Tooru Oikawa and Kuroo Tetsurou because Furudate wanted to save us from having not one, but two bi menaces losers embarrassingly pining for their childhood friend for as long as they can remember on screen at the same time.

[farlynthordens]

how dot could have been if the author wasn't a coward

(read right to left)

PART 2: HERE

[angelyuji]

OKAY this is a follow-up to the anomaly!reader ask, but I was hit by the sudden realization of how perfect of a situation it is for a little somno 🤭 the first time you had to be unconscious for a test was def legitimate.. and he just really couldn't help his curiosity. Besides, no harm done, right? you wouldn't even remember him doing it and he was very polite about it, only touching you. and of course recording every detail about it in his journal. You're perhaps getting a little suspicious when it's the fourth time over the course of a month or so that a test requires you to be unconscious... But hey, Ford is trustworthy... Right?

tw // implied noncon, somno, implied pregnancy

ABSOLTELY!!! like ford convinces you that it's just a small check-up (since you're not allowed to go to the doctor anymore) and you end up falling asleep (he drugged you) and when you wake up, you feel weird and different. this happens constantly until you wake up nauseous and sore. this time ford keeps you awake to show you that you should NOT have trusted him to keep his hands off you

[moeblob]

Sorry I forgot Hanneman suggested Byleth undress after they show up with a different hair color. And I miss Hanneman. And also while swapping between Houses and Hopes and seeing Hanneman pop up to help in a Hopes paralogue is just devastating since he doesn't ever actually join you at all and I am denied my old man rights.

So I had to draw this. Thank you for understanding.

[patheticblorbloscholar]

[lunarharp]

more phoenix wright situations

[steviesbicrisis]

Eddie Munson who gets his Lizzie McGuire moment by going to Rome with an university art program.

The only requirement is to visit museums regularly and redraw the art pieces in his style and submit his work by the end of it.

What seems to be a piece of cake for Eddie, gets a lot more complicated when the average Italian museum worker is met with his peculiar drawings style -which might include evil dragons and decapitated heads in some of Caravaggio’s Still Lives and, in worst cases, some additions to Christian art pieces that have been described as “blasphemy” as he was getting escorted out and banned from the Vatican’s Museums (and maybe the whole country, Eddie still doesn’t know so he avoids that part of the city just to be safe).

And Eddie, who will never compromise his work integrity for a few Italian bigots, ends up in one of the least known and visited museums of the city. Which still, by his standards, contains fine art he can work on.

And if this particular museum, which is one hour and a half of public transport from his house, has a really hot security guard who follows him closely and barks at every tourist that tries to take a picture of his drawings, he surely won’t complain.

[cto10121]

Me: [pacing in the therapist office] But what really kills me are the people who believe that Musical Gelphie has more development than Fiyeraba and that Fiyeraba came out of ~nowhere. Putting Book Wicked aside for a hot second, the whole reason why Musical Elphaba and Glinda became friends in the first place in the musical is because Glinda played a mean trick on Elphaba, and Elphaba completely misunderstands it. She thinks Glinda gifting her the black hat was genuine! This leads her to ask Madame Morrible to include Glinda in her seminar and Glinda feeling guilty about her cruel attempt at humiliation and trying to assuage it by dancing with Elphie. That’s when they truly become friends. In so doing, the musical bases their entire friendship on a misunderstanding (!!). That’s what I mean when I say that Musical Wicked is fundamentally the Glinda Show. The two of them don’t become friends when they recognize their similarities or as a natural reconciliation of their differences. They are friends because Glinda felt white liberal guilt for a hot second. And then in the very next scene, Glinda tries to make Elphaba “popular” by making her to act and look like her. She still doesn’t accept Elphaba! So yeah, Musical Gelphie is a cursed ship to me, very cursed. I may bitch about Musical Fiyero being a Glinda clone (basically Book Avaric + Book Fiyero’s background), but at the very least he did accept Elphaba, green skin, Animal rights, and high C#5s and all. And the musical has at least a handful of Fiyeraba interactions pre-As Long As You’re Mine which shows their attraction to each other. I don’t know, does that make sense?

Therapist: Musical Wicked just sounds cursed all around.

Me: I know!

[neapeaikea]

Ooh I know, what if Hen and Karen are busting Tommy's balls because they know he was a bit of a player back in the day and they're having fun 'cos they can tell he's got feeeeelings for Buck.

[hells-plaid-angel]

Dean Winchester: Reading Recommendations

Because I headcannon Dean as a reader, here is a list of books that I think he would like. Some are directly referenced in the show, others are odes to America and a life on the road complete with horror, satire or complicated family issues. And, of course, some books manage to meet at the twist of the mobius strip where toxic masculinity and homoeroticism collide.

Books of Blood - Clive Barker 

Imajica - Clive Barker 

The Complete Poems - Hart Crane 

Hard Rain Falling - Don Carpenter 

Our Share of Night - Mariana Enriquez 

Catch-22 - Joseph Heller 

Iliad - Homer 

Jesus’ Son - Denis Johnson 

East of Eden - John Steinbeck

My Heart Is a Chainsaw - Stephen Graham Jones 

On the Road - Jack Kerouac 

Christine - Stephen King 

The Road - Cormac McCarthy

The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter - Carson McCullers

Survivor - Chuck Palahniuk 

The Moviegoer - Walker Percy

The Devil All the Time - Donald Ray Pollock

A Season in Hell - Arthur Rimbaud

Crush - Richard Siken

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - Hunter S. Thompson

Cat’s Cradle - Kurt Vonnegut 

Slaughterhouse Five - Kurt Vonnegut

Time is a Mother - Ocean Vuong

Leaves of Grass - Walt Whitman 

Butcher’s Crossing - John Williams