#and then you just toss in some carrots from time to time and they're happy

[my-mt-heart]

SDCC22

As promised, I'm going to share my thoughts on everything SDCC, or at least everything I can so far. Hope you don't mind me using bullet points because I'm pretty wiped. But if it's any consolation, I do also have visual aids for once.

The Trailer

I counted two whole shots of Caryl, which is two more than we got in any other trailer this season. There were a couple Caryl adjacent ones too. So that's...better?

Fwiw, I do believe Daryl and Carol are going to have a shared arc this time. It's just...not going to be promoted I guess?

It feels way too late in the game to be introducing variant walkers. The show's breaking it's own canon.

The Panel

I said this on Twitter and I'll say it again here. It was refreshing to see so many fans hyped for Caryl and McReedus again after three months of misery. I am not going to be the asshole who takes that away from anyone. What I will say is...

I am getting whiplash over here. Norman is going on a liking spree and the official TWD accounts are tweeting "Caryl forever" and "We love them too" which to be clear is not hinting at what's to come necessarily, but at the very least demonstrates an effort to convince us they care (and therefore we should care that they care). The thing is, we're not being given anything concrete to look forward to.

Norman's statement that "the Carol/Daryl story isn't over" is pleasant to the ears and I want it to be true, don't get me wrong. To me, it's pretty obvious there is no actual plan in motion right now. If there was, Melissa would have gotten the opportunity to speak on it herself.

It was so, SO lovely and at the same time heartbreaking to hear her talk about playing Carol. I'm grateful for the time she committed to this, but I am left thinking she was there to help AMC convey that everything's all good. "No hard feelings, nothing to see, let's cool it with the backlash and watch all the shows, okay?" And nothing more than that, which is even more heartbreaking. But also, if AMC wanted her to verbally corroborate any of the narratives that were tossed out there regarding the spinoff cancellation, that was their chance. They didn't take it.

My guess is AMC is trying to straddle the fence. They're putting in the bare minimum to keep us hanging around, but they don't know how to give us what we want or if they even can at this point.

The Richonne Spinoff

Again, I do not want to be the asshole who rains on other people's parade. I like Richonne. I'm happy Andy and Danai get to come back and I wish them all the success in the world. They absolutely deserve closure since the movies, you know, fell through :P I definitely would've liked to watch this one if I felt more confident the story would be good. Strong acting can go a long way, but knowing who's in charge and having watched the stories said person has told in the past, well, I'll stop there. It's also just too painful to think about what we're missing out on with Caryl.

I have no idea what the point of a Daryl spinoff is anymore. If not looking for Rick and Michonne, what the hell is he doing in France without Carol? Or if he is looking for them, what impact is that going to have if we already know how it ends? Without a carrot to dangle, what do the largest factions of the fandom (Caryl fans and Rick fans) have to root for? What are the stakes?

This:

tells me the Richonne spinoff is meant to carry the franchise now that the Caryl spinoff has fallen through.

A silver lining:

To me, this implies the spinoffs are going to take place during the time jump, which means we will not end on the depressing note of Daryl and Carol separating for an indefinite amount of time.

The Press Conference

Melissa was supposed to attend, but got pulled out at the last minute, so that's a bummer :/

No updates on the Daryl spinoff

Fan Celebration

Some photos:

If I've missed anything, I'm sure someone will bring it to my asks. I know I have a lot of those to get through, most likely tomorrow. Bear with me.

P.S. Nice to see Melissa and #Caryl trending all day (let me have this).

#caryl #carol peletier #melissa mcbride #darylneedscarol

[lewmagoo]

Leah, I hope you're ok and that everything's been smoothed out. I do apologize if I've spammed the inbox lately and I hope you're ok with me sending in little blurbs every now and again. If ever it's too much, just let me know and I'll step back whenever you need me to.

It's almost the time of the year for seasonal illnesses to set in and you and Rhett can definitely feel it. It gets to be even more so when Amy comes home from her kindergarten one day with a bad, hacking wet cough and may or may not have spread it around the house.

It's a freezing, wet, dark day in fall when you notice that Rhett's definitely not feeling good at all. Luckily, Amy's out of the house with Royal and Cecelia, so you can do whatever it is you need to do without her getting underfoot. He's got that awful wet cough and a bit of a temperature, but even so, you set straight to taking care of your husband as best you can.

You get a big pot of cinnamon pastry flavored coffee going in the coffee maker while you take some meat out of the fridge. You're grateful that your father-in-law had sent over the big chunks of fatty bone-in beef that you can throw in the crockpot. You brown it up in the pan on the stove and toss that shit into the crockpot with carrots, celery, pearl onions and a few cloves of garlic before you whisk together Royal's spice mix for meat, a little bit of water, stock and a dash of red wine (two for the chef, one for the dish as my grandfather always says, hee hee). You let it slow cook all day, even as you take Rhett to the urgent-care clinic to get checked out and get the antibiotics he needs to kill the chest infection he's got, but when you come home, oh does it smell sooooooo good.

You throw a bunch of butter biscuits in the oven and when they're done, you and Rhett dig into the stew and settle in to watch a movie. You settle on Tim Burton's "Corpse Bride" since Halloween is almost around the corner, the two of you snuggled under the blankets, full from the stew and happy to just be close to each other, even if Rhett's sick.

And you can be damn sure that when you're feeling under the weather, that Rhett does the same for you.

i feel like when rhett gets sick, he gets sick. laid out for a week, in need of antibiotics kind of sick. so this is very fitting. he’s very happy to let you take care of him. and he wants all the snuggles.

#asks #rhett musings

[devouringcambridge]

Sunday Roast at The Brook

I'm not an expert, but to me, the concept of a Sunday Roast is as British as afternoon tea or adding 'innit' to the end of all your sentences. There are so many pubs that offer this quintessential British cuisine, but today, I'm reviewing the Sunday Roast offered at The Brook. Located on Mill Road, The Brook is a cozy-sized pub with a warm atmosphere and some delicious ciders available...but how does their Sunday Roast hold up?

British Top Side Roast Beef with Horseradish Sauce (15 pounds)

I had such MIXED FEELINGS about this Sunday Roast. It was a roller coaster of emotions served up with a half-vat of gravy on the side. Some bites had my eyes rolling back in my head with ecstasy. Other bites belonged in the frozen aisle of a discount grocery store. Because of this, I'll rank each item, individually, from worst to best.

6. The Vegetables

I adore roasted veggies. Throw some broccoli, carrots, onions, and cloves of garlic on a roasting pan, drizzle with olive oil, toss some salt and pepper on top, and chuck that baby into the oven and I am more than happy. But these veggies had no tales to tell - they were bland, flavorless, steamed, and unhappy. Just like me after eating the lifeless carrots.

5. Top Side Beef

Seeing as it's called a Sunday ROAST, you'd think the meat would be the star of the show. And while it looks quite nice in the picture, the beef was so dry that I had to resort to dunking it into the gravy in order to make it palatable. It also didn't have much flavor beyond the gravy itself, which leads me to...

4. The Gravy

Solidly fine, and served with a generous portion. However, could do with more of a flavor PUNCH. As it was, I used it mostly as a moist-maker.

3. The Stuffing

And all of a sudden we jump from 'solidly fine' to 'oh my god, I wish I could ask for seconds.' The stuffing is invisible in this picture, and was a surprise to me. In fact, now that I'm writing this, I'm wondering if I got a different roast than the one on the menu...perhaps a holiday offering? Because stuffing isn't mentioned in the description, and I'm just realizing that there was no horseradish sauce in sight, either...hmm, well, all's well that ends well, because I'm glad for the swap. This stuffing was moist and packed with flavor - it tasted of salt, herbs, and garlic, and had a dense, crumbly texture. My only complaint was that there was such a small amount - it hid beneath the potatoes, a noble treasure.

2. The Yorkshire Pudding

My first bite of the Sunday Roast was a chunk of the fluffy, soft Yorkshire Pudding - and I can't be certain I didn't moan. It's been six months since the last time I had a Yorkshire Pudding, and I now realize that that is far too long. Honestly, I know a lot of people rag on British food, but the Yorkshire Pudding deserves to be appreciated internationally. I just wish I could describe it better, for those who've never tried one. It's almost like...the love child of a souffle, a pancake, and pita bread...but also different from all of those things. The texture is NEXT LEVEL. So freaking fluffy. And the perfect vessel for soaking up pan sauces and gravy. Ugh, I would have traded the beef for another Yorkshire Pudding with no hesitation. And honestly, the Yorkshire Pudding was probably THE best thing on the plate...but, they're also pretty hard to get wrong. Put a Yorkie P on my plate, and I'll be happy almost always. Although, I won't take away from The Brook here - they do a particularly good one.

The Roast Potatoes

After tasting the sad veg, I feared the potatoes would also be steamed and unseasoned. Instead, The Brook said 'try the best fucking roasted potatoes you've ever had, ye of little fucking faith.'

Crispy on the outside but fluffy on the inside, these taters were perfectly cooked. Flavorful on their own, they verged on orgasmic when slathered in gravy. And I don't even usually LIKE roast potatoes!

So, now, hopefully, you see why this Sunday Roast is hard to rate. How do you compare the worst steamed veggies I've ever had - even the ones in elementary school had salt on them - to the fucking best roast potatoes I've ever had?! It's madness. Madness! While the stuffing and the Yorkshire puddings also pull their own weight, I will say, because the meat is supposed to be the focal point of a Sunday Roast, I'm going to have to give this particular roast at The Brook a...

Rating: 6 out of 10 Gravy Boats

Honestly, if I had just been handed a plate of Yorkshire Pudding and Roast Potatoes, the score would have been much higher...although I'd be eating nothing but carbs. Still. Some things in life are worth every bite, while other things - like the dry beef - are barely worth chewing.

#yorkshire pudding #food review #food blog #british food #sunday roast #pub food #roast potatoes #cambridge #the brook #eating england

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Camilo and dulce being all lovey dovey and a family member walks in and teases camilo about it

Oh this. We love this. Warning. It's grossly fluffy. And like 1% suggestive.

"Cami, you're being too much-"

"One, no such thing. Two, extra is my middle name. Actually, it's Castillo, but you get what I mean."

Camilo had the whole kitchen to himself and his totally awesome girlfriend, and he intended to make the most use of it. He pushed the boxes a bit closer to her, and rested his chin on her shoulder as she studied them, as if suspicious.

"If there's spiders in this one, like last time, I'm punching you in your dick."

"I promise, they're legit. Come on, mi vida, I tried on these!"

She opened one box, and chuckled upon seeing the bunny pattered bandanna. Nicely made, too.

"You made this one?"

"I commissioned it from Mira, actually. So, technically. I just thought since you liked bunnies and junk, you'd appreciate it."

"I do. It's cute."

She put it on her head, and honestly, it felt right. She couldn't help but chuckle at his dumb face as he looked at her.

"God you're cute. Like, so cute. You should let me take you out tonight. Whatever you want."

"Hey, you know Thursdays I have to be home by night. Mom's rules."

"You don't think she'd bend them? Just for us?"

She gave him a look that said 'not likely', and he shrugged.

"Fair enough. Open the other one!"

She picked up the box, and opened it. She raised a brow at the cakey, frosting covered mess.

"Woah. Did Casita make this one fall down the stairs?"

Casita's tiles rumbled and flipped in a response that no one really understood. Camilo chuckled.

"No, that's actually how it went in. Stuff happened, but I tried. Your face is EXACTLY how tía's was when she taught me how to make it. She said she wanted to re do it for me, but I REALLY wanted to try for you. I put like. Loads of carrots in it. Try it."

"Can you get me a spoon?"

"I'm spooning you right now, that should count."

She rolled her eyes at him, and decided to just use her hands. It was a bit messy, but she made it work. She tried not to cough upon getting just a faceful of aggressive spices.

"Oh my god dude-that is. A LOT."

"Is that bad? I can toss it if it is."

"...in a weird way I actually really like it? The frosting is REALLY well done, and that helps it."

"Could you eat it without the frosting?"

"Oh no it'd probably fucking kill me. But hey! You can make frosting, and the cake is a super nice texture. I like it."

He grinned, clearly full of pride. He always did like doing little things like this for her, just to make her happy.

"I'm glad you like it. Believe it or not, I didn't try ANY of it, even though I really wanted to."

"No wonder it's this aggressive-you're SUPPOSED to taste it, Cami."

"Last time I did that, you kicked me out of the kitchen!"

She gave him a look as she helped herself to another piece. Way better on the second bite.

"Honey, you ate HALF my cake. Then all of my frosting."

"You just can't ever be happy, can you?"

"You're being dramatic because you want some, don't you?"

"Maybe."

He was lucky he was as cute as he was, because he was equally as ridiculous. She was about to push the box towards him, when he grabbed her hand, and stuck her frosted thumb right in his mouth. This guy looked her right in her eyes as her thumb dragged along his tongue, smearing the frosting over it. She snorted loudly, pushing his face away with her free hand. They'd never done it before, but this dude used the idea of it to embarrass her plenty of times.

"You are so GROSS!"

"Shut up, you love it~"

He took the hand at his face, and started to kiss it, tenderly and slowly. So she liked him, just a little bit. She put her forehead against his, looking at him as his lips continued to pepper her skin in kisses.

"I love you."

"I love you too, pretty witty girl."

"Oh my god are we doing the nickname thing right now?"

"Bitch, maybe."

There was a moments hesitation, before they finally did her secret pleasure.

"My cutiepie."

"Cottontail."

"Stud muffin."

"Cuddle muffin."

"Pookie cookie."

"My little fluffy cuddle bunny creampuff."

"...ugh that's so overkill."

"Come on, you lose, prize me, baby!"

She almost didn't want to, that was a cheap win. But win he did. She held onto his cheek, and rubbed her nose against his in a little bunny kiss, before actually giving him a peck on his lips. She was going to consider destroying his whole face with her lipstick, when they heard a groan right across from them. Mirabel.

"Ew, gross- mom! Camilo is simping all over the kitchen!"

"I'm not SIMPING!"

Mirabel faked a lovey dovey face, and mocked Camilo's voice.

"'Oh my little cuddle bunny! I'm so gross and annoying and once she leaves I pout for like an hour!' That's you."

"It is NOT! I'm more than capable of being by myself! I don't POUT!"

"So I can go home?"

"No wait, I love you though."

Julieta and Agustín walked in, looking confused.

"I'm sorry- you said Camilo was WHAT all over the kitchen?"

"Simping."

"What is 'simping'?"

"It uh. Means he loves her. Yep."

"Oh. So like, I can say I simp for Agustín-why is Dulce laughing?"

She wasn't trying to, honestly, but she couldn't help it. Older people trying to use slang was just funny. She stood up, cake in one hand, the other holding Camilo's.

"You wanna just eat this up in your room?"

"Mom would be pissed if she knew I was sneaking a girl in, you know."

Not that it stopped him from walking out of the room with her, a huge smirk on his face.

"Simp."

"No, Luisa's boyfriend is a simp. I'M a helpless romantic. Huge difference."

"Uh huh, sure~"

#asks #not transformers #encanto #its a bit short #but damn is it cute

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

We've Got Tonight - Ch 5

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

This chapter in particular is dedicated to @foxyjwls007 . If I'm going to torture you with something, it's not going to be a cliffhanger. I'm going out of town for two weeks, so you get an update early since I won't be able to post while I'm away. Thank you for the encouragement.

In case you missed it: Chapter 4 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

...

We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 5

“Miss? Miss? Hey, are you okay?”

A hand grips Andy’s arm, firm but polite, and she jerks to, almost losing her footing. It’s been a long day already, and she still has two hours before she can go home, shower, and put her feet up for a little while before karaoke at the Brass Monkey starts up.

Maybe I can even fit in a nap, she thinks excitedly. But first, gotta wake up and make it through the rest of my shift.

Of course, if she hadn’t been tossing and turning all night from a crazy dream, she wouldn’t be as tired as she is now, but that’s neither here nor there. And it doesn’t help that she can’t even remember the stupid dream. It was really long, though, and there was blood and books and…someone...

“Can I get a refill over here?”

One hour, forty-seven minutes, and twenty-two seconds to go. She can do this.

The minutes crawl, though, and it’s all she can do to stay on her feet and focus. The lunch crowd has long since thinned, and she’s about to ask if she can maybe take off a little early when the door chimes, and she catches the tail end of the entering customers’ conversation.

“Could you at least consider putting something green on your plate? Like, ever? Broccoli won’t kill you.”

“I’ve already told you, I’m getting breakfast since you didn’t wake me up early enough to eat a decent one this morning. Pancakes, bacon, and coffee, which, I might add, grows on a tree, so it counts as a plant. That’s balanced enough for me. You like broccoli; knock yourself out, Jolly Green.”

“Sam isn’t green, Dean. Is your vision faulty? Perhaps we should get your eyes examined. Or you could try carrots along with the broccoli. Carrots are supposed to improve vision.”

No. No, no, no, she thinks, her mind whirling frantically. It was a dream, they can’t be here. This is...this is how it started, and...

She turns, and there they are, Sam and Dean dolled up in their clean, pressed feds suits and Cas looking just as rumpled and bewildered as she suddenly remembers. They seat themselves at an empty table in her section, but any thoughts of leaving early evaporated the second she heard their voices.

Every moment of the dream, every minute of those four weeks comes screaming back, cramming each terror-laden, tension-ridden second into her mind so fast she actually does stumble and has to grab the back of a nearby booth to keep from hitting the worn-out linoleum.

“It...hasn’t happened yet.”

“I’m sorry, did you say something? Hey, hey, hold on there. Are you okay?”

Then Sam’s hand is supporting her elbow, helping her straighten up, and she looks up into his concerned eyes, unable to express how glad she is just to see him breathing. Behind him, Dean and Cas are arguing about something trivial, wonderfully animated and alive and completely unaware of her.

“I’m sorry, hun, it’s just been a long shift. Gimme a minute to grab some waters and menus, and I’ll be right over.” Sam accepts her flimsy excuse at face value, and why wouldn’t he? He hasn’t lived with her for the better part of a month, hasn’t saved her life once, hasn’t tried to save the world with her. He doesn’t know her at all.

Why should he question a strange waitress in a strange diner who says she’s had a long day? He’s met hundreds of women just like her, maybe thousands, and he’s got no reason to question a completely legitimate statement.

She rushes into the back to find the coldest water possible to splash on her face. Her reflection gapes back at her from the staff bathroom mirror as the enormity of her situation begins to dawn on her.

Why? Why is this happening? Either she actually lived through those weeks and is somehow getting a do-over, or she dreamed the whole thing and is getting a shot to fix things from this end. But why? And how?

How in the hell?

Think, Andrea, think. It was real. It will be real. It hasn’t happened yet. You haven’t screwed everything up yet. You have to fix this. But how? How can I fix it when I screwed everything up so very badly last time?

Just...think. Think. Start small. Try to stop it before it happens. But...the cult. Crowley said they were real. They found me before, they’ll find me again. I could talk to Sam and Dean and Cas about what's going to happen. They’ve been through enough insanity in their lives that I actually have a pretty good shot at convincing them.

She stares into the mirror, racking her brain for every helpful detail she learned during her time with the Winchesters.

They're already investigating all the break-ins hereabouts; those were the cultists looking for me in the first place. Then they find me, take me, bleed me, and start the apocalypse. The boys could stop the ritual before it even happens.

Her reflection in the mirror frowns, unconvinced the solution could possibly be that easy.

But the literature, the books, it’s all still out there. Someone else could find it, could come after me. My blood is the problem. I’m the key. As long as I’m around, someone could still use me to end everything. Crowley can still use me to get to them. Think. You’ve got to actually stop everything and save them this time.

Her eyes widen as realization dawns. The world can’t make it without the Winchesters. There’s only one way out of this.

Fifteen minutes later, she sets a fresh green salad in front of Sam before dropping a towering stack of steaming pancakes in front of Dean.

“Fresh pot of coffee coming off in two, be right back with your refills. Need any more butter or syrup, hun? How ‘bout a couple of extra pieces of bacon on the house?”

“Don’t encourage him, please,” Sam groans. Dean slaps his brother on the back of the head, sending Sam’s coiffed hair into a tizzy of disarray. Sam swipes back at his brother, who waves off Sam’s attempts at retaliation like he’s swatting a fly.

“You shut your pie hole. She said free bacon. That makes her a queen.” He turns his most charming smile on her, glancing down at her name tag then back up to meet her gaze squarely. The crinkles around his eyes deepen with his grin. “Andrea, is it?”

“Andy,” she corrects automatically, and she can’t help her answering smile. He throws her a wink that clearly says he knows he’s cheesy but it's all part of his irresistible charm.

She doesn’t disagree.

“You are a goddess, Andy. I love you, and you need to know that.”

“You don’t,” she says, only just managing to keep her voice and smile level, “but you could.” His answering laugh sends a twinge through her chest, and if she clenches her jaw a little around her smile, she figures she’s entitled.

When the men finally finish eating, she offers a slip of paper to Dean, while Sam pretends he isn’t rolling his eyes.

“There’s a karaoke competition at the Brass Monkey tonight. Winner gets tab on the house for a week. Interested in maybe meeting up there around ten or so? We could have a drink, sing a song, and see where the rest of the night takes us.”

He grins and takes the slip from her with sure fingers. She’s certain he has her number memorized before the paper even retains his prints, but he makes a special show of tucking it safely into his pocket.

“Dean, do you think it wise to allow yourself to be so distracted when we’re in the middle of an investigation?”

And without even realizing it, Cas gives her the perfect opening.

“Oh, you boys investigating all the break-ins hereabouts? Were they too much for our local boys to handle? Listen, hun, my friend was one of the ladies whose house got broken into. If you want to stick around for a few minutes, I can fill you in on what I know and send you her way. Would that help?”

Castiel’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and he is clearly pleased with his first-rate investigating skills. “That would help immensely, Miss Andrea. Thank you.”

She can’t believe her luck at such a perfect lead-in, and she runs with it.

“Now that I think about it, the shop next door mentioned something about their alarm getting tripped a few nights in a row. Maybe I could talk to your friend while you two check it out? And I’ll see you tonight, Dean? Ten o’clock?”

Dean’s grin softens, and she can see the faintest tinge of red along his cheeks. She didn’t notice it the first time around, and now she wishes she’d paid more attention. Then the brothers leave, and she’s alone with the angel. ...

Chapter 6

#spn #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #dean winchester #sam winchester #andy #original female character #original character #castiel #major character death #more major character death (sorta) #higher than show level violence #blood #demons #apocalypse #light smutting #inferred suicide #cult activity #i love bacon #i apologize for everything that comes after this

[eats-the-stars]

so right now, all our cats are tailess or stumpy tailed (not purebred or anything but our friend’s parents had farm cats that are all tailess, stumpy, or half tailed and they wanted some kittens to get indoor homes so we took them). And the thing is...I’ve realized that my nephew, who is one now, has only seen these cats, and never a cat with a full tail...and it will probably be a year or two before he does see a cat with a full tail, so i’m wondering how he’ll react to that. maybe it won’t be anything dramatic, but I know that I’m an adult and I’ve had tailed cats before and even I have a moment of “huh that’s weird” when I see a cat with a full tail, after living with cats without for so long (our family friend is our closest connection who has cats and they are all also tailess or stumpy barring one fluffy boy).

#cats #family #i'm also really excited for the age when he's really into bugs #i loved that part of my childhood #and also i keep a variety of cockroaches #and my sister likes tarantulas so she always has some #and i know that when i was younger i would have been just ecstatic if my parents let me have pet roaches or tarantulas #also i think roaches are an excellent pet for kids and beginners because they're really low maintenance and hardy #like you basically just need a tub with egg cartons and maybe some woodchips or something for bedding (optional) #and then you can get a heating pad if you want but it's also not necessary #and then you just toss in some carrots from time to time and they're happy #like i do more than that because i like to spoil them but the basic setup works just fine too #my sister uses that for her feeder roaches since she doesn't really dote on them the same way #roaches don't bite and they're safe to handle so that's not a problem either #i suppose some kids might be too rough and kill them but again...roaches are a little more expendable (most not all) than like a tarantula #or a gecko or something #like we literally feed some to our reptiles so... #also show and tell was another time i loved to bring in a pet (we had rats for a while when i was young) #you're not always able to bring in pets but if they can roaches would be cool #also if he brings friends home he'd probably win some coolness points #by the variety of animals we have #tarantulas snakes cockroaches fish bearded dragon leopard gecko our cats the dogs #...our house is a bit of a zoo actually... #but it's nice to invest some time into setting up nice habitats and researching care and things so it's a nice hobby

[coffeeandcas]

To continue this? Or? It's gonna be super angsty, like Dean-Winchester-has-an-awful-past angsty. WDYT? Destiel AU, obviously.

“Six dollars? For coffee? Is that a joke?”

The girl, pigtailed and snub-nosed, stares at Dean in utter indignation as he holds out her decaf, sugar-free, no-foam monstrosity. It’s got so much fake caramel syrup in it that it barely even qualifies as coffee at this point and it definitely isn't worth six dollars but hey, he doesn't make the rules. Bored, Dean wiggles the paper cup at her.

“Yuh. Don't like it? There's a Starbucks across the road, go get diabetes there, instead.”

Affronted, the girl huffs and puffs at him while she digs in her purse and Dean dumps the coins in the cash register with an extremely fake, ‘Have a great day!’ before leaning back against the sink and rubbing the back of his neck. Outside the sun is shining but it's chilly and autumnal and red-brown leaves skitter and swirl along the sidewalk, carried by a gentle breeze and stopped in their journey by people’s boots and sneakers. It's warm in the coffee shop and he tugs restlessly at the deep V of his black t-shirt, leaving a smear of wet coffee grains on his collarbone. It's a rare moment when the shop is quiet, and he takes in their few customers listlessly. Two girls sit huddled together on their iPhones, giggling at something, wrapped up in scarves and mittens despite the indoor warmth. An Asian kid, Kevin he thinks his name is, is dozing off in front of his laptop and a pile of textbooks in the corner. A couple sit in silence, both staring out of the window with empty cups in front of them, tension pulling into faint lines at their mouths. And a cute guy with short, military-cut hair and pouty lips talks on his phone loudly, laughing as he talks about some woman named Anna. Dean rolls his eyes. One of his many, many pet peeves is hearing someone yack loudly on their cell phones in public. He turns away, washing his hands under too-hot water and wiping down the bar. He had averted his eyes from the father and son sitting near the door, the kid colouring in a picture energetically and the father ruffling his hair with a fond smile. The boy only looked about eight years old. He swallows bitterly and grits his teeth, muttering to himself. Only two hours left of his shift then Ruby will be here to take over from him and he can head home to catch up on Dr Sexy and maybe hit the gym.

The bell at the door signals someone’s arrival and Dean plasters on his usual fake smile, feeling it melt into a small, more natural one as he sees his customers. He even manages to ignore the flurry of leaves that have blown in with them. These two are regulars, coming in together most days, sometimes twice a day if it's cold and blustery like today. They're both blue-eyed and painfully handsome, and today wearing matching blue scarves; one of them is in a slightly ill-fitting tan trench and the other in a long wool thigh-skimming coat with a black beanie covering a shock of dark hair. They're twins, and the most identical twins Dean has ever seen. They're talking intensely about something as they approach the bar, one of them shaking his head and laughing, and their faces split into identical smiles as they see their barista.

“Dean! Hi!”

“Hello, Dean.”

And Dean’s lips incline just a tiny bit, the closest to a genuine smile he ever manages when it comes to customers. Or to most people, really. He doesn't exactly like these two; they just annoy him less than most people. They're… he has no other word for it. They're both sexy. Nice to look at. Some might say intimidating. They seem to walk with the kind of purpose that evades most people, like they're constantly on some sort of heaven-sent mission, and he's forever watching other customers follow them with their eyes whenever they leave with their coffee cups clutched in their hands.

“Hi.” He wipes his hands and tosses the towel. “The usual?”

“For me, yes. Please.” Tan trench-coat smiles at him, pulling a black leather wallet from his pocket. Black beanie is tapping his teeth wth a manicured fingernail and looking up at the board behind Dean’s head.

“You've got plenty of new drinks. Pumpkin spice season is always my favourite. Is there anything you recommend?”

“No. Are these to go?”

“I'm so glad I asked, thank you for your expertise.” Black beanie grins at him, displaying a row of flashing white teeth, and trench-coat elbows him.

“Jimmy, be nice. And choose your own drink. Yes please, Dean, both to go.”

He knows they're called Cas and Jimmy, and he knows they own Novak & Novak, an art gallery a block away, but he can never work out which twin is which. Normally he has to wait for one to say the other’s name, because firstly it feels rude to ask but secondly, he doesn't really care. They're Cas and Jimmy. Why should it matter to him which one is which?

“Fine, I'll have… a vanilla brûlée latte with foam and extra whip please, Dean-o. And a slice of carrot cake, or whatever that is.”

Jimmy smiles at him again and Dean’s teeth ache from the amount of sugar in the drink the man is requesting. Around Jimmy’s neck is slung a camera, a white and tan Olympus with matching strap, which he has to push aside to find his wallet in his pocket. Cas elbows him before he can pull it out.

“My treat. Your turn tomorrow. And what about you, Dean?” Cas’ smile is more reserved, almost shy, but his blue eyes twinkle as he turns back to the bar. Nonplussed, Dean just stares at him.

“What about me?”

“Can I buy you something? You look like you've had a long day.”

“Oh, gee, thanks pal.” Dean rings up their order, irritably. He hates being told he looks like shit. “Way to make a guy feel good about himself. And no. I don't want a coffee. I get them for free anyway.”

“Oh. Right. I…” Cas has gone pink all the way to the tips of his ears. Jimmy is staring at the floor, a lock of dark hair curling onto his forehead, and he looks like he's got his lips clamped tightly together to suppress a laugh. Or a giggle. Jimmy Novak looks like the type to giggle. “I apologise, Dean. I didn't mean to offend you-”

“Whatever.” He hands Cas his change and turns away. “Your drinks will be ready soon, gimme five.”

“Alright.” One of the twins responds, then Dean is sure he can hear whispering over his shoulder. Or hissing, more like. One twin berating the other about something. Their voices sound so alike he can't tell who's speaking, and he doesn't really give a shit anyway. He's used to being talked about. People have been talking behind his back ever since his thirteenth birthday, he's grown a thick enough skin that it doesn't bother him any more. He doesn't care what they're saying.

He slides Cas’ extra-shot latte across the bar to him, frowning when the other man offers a shy smile. Cas is possibly, maybe, potentially the more attractive of the two, at least in Dean’s eyes. He's got to know the twins a little since they moved to Vancouver last year, after Jimmy almost fell into the coffee shop with an exaggerated gasp about his need for caffeine, and in that time he's noticed a few subtle nuances about the men that make them different. They're so subtle, however, that most of the time he still can't tell them apart at a first glance. Jimmy is the more talkative of the two, and seems the more energetic. Cas is shyer and more studious, and has a few more fine lines at the corners of his eyes than his brother, lines which Dean notices now as he looks at him and immediately feels irritated with himself. Why has he even noticed? Stupid of him. Cas must be at least a decade older than him. Eight years, maybe.

He finishes Jimmy’s drink and hands it over, turning away abruptly before either of them can attempt a conversation with him. He isn't interested. He's tired, crankier than usual, and just wants to be left alone. Honestly, he feels like Shrek half the time, wanting to be left in peace in his own solitary life. But, annoyingly, people do keep insisting on talking to him.

“Well, bye Dean-o.” The nickname grates on him. Jimmy sips his drink thoughtfully then nods, apparently satisfied. “See you tomorrow, I'm sure!”

“I'm already looking forward to it!” Dean matches Jimmy’s cheerful tone with unconcealed sarcasm and both twins bark out identical laughs. Jimmy gives him a two-fingered wave and saunters off, fussing with his camera, while Cas lingers.

“Did you forget something?” Dean asks, blunt as ever, and Cas turns his blue eyes on him, eyes as clear as the ocean and for a split-second Dean is captivated. Then he coughs and looks away awkwardly.

“No. I just wondered… I just thought…”

Cas is tracing a swirl in the rustic oak bar top with a finger and Dean follows its path. Cas has nice hands, objectively. If he were interested in peoples hands, or in Cas, he would say they were nice. Strong. Artistic, if the dents in his knuckles are anything to go by. They look like they would be nice to hold, his fingertips smooth and his palms soft, nails short and well-kept but not groomed like Jimmy’s. Dean would think those things if, you know, he was interested in Cas at all. Which he isn't.

“If maybe you, uh,” Cas falters and stops and Dean has to resist drumming his fingers on the bar. The bell at the door rings again and a small gaggle of teenage girls come in, jostling each other out of their way as they approach, all clutching their phones and with a little too much make-up on for Dean’s tastes. Cas, oddly, goes beet red and seems to think better of whatever he was about to say.

“See you, Dean.”

“Uh, OK, bye…” He scowls, watching Cas walk away to join his brother by the door then they both leave in another flurry of leaves. The hell was that about? “Weirdo,” He mutters under his death then turns to the teenagers with his fake-happy smile plastered on his face.

“What can I get for you guys?”

#Destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfiction