diner mugs

Coffee

Note: Hi Everyone. I wrote a Thing. Many thanks to @mulder-fight-him and @kateyes224 for encouraging me to write it and for making it not suck. As this is the first Thing I’ve written in over a year, I’d appreciate any feedback. Except the feedback of “You suck, this sucks, never write again.” My brain tells me that every time I write a Thing, I don’t need you telling me that too. :-) 



She is a coffee connoisseur. Dripped from a contraband coffeemaker in a dorm room during an all-nighter to try to understand biochemistry. Gulped without tasting, still scalding hot, as she ran between patients. Sipped from a mug that warmed her hands as her eyes twinkled at her lover in his parents’ cabin after an unsuccessful ice fishing expedition.

And then…Styrofoam cups in police stations, ranging from barely palatable to resembling raw sewage. Fuel just to keep up with her brilliant partner and his spooky leaps of logic. Picked up from gas stations and drive thrus, as they ran from case to case. Chipped mugs in diners with free refills, as they tried to find enough motivation to chase down endless dead ends on the search for the one lead that would answer the question, slay the monster, save the day. Pots made in a dingy basement office and then ignored as their arguments about the merits of the case energized them more fully than any caffeine could, where winning meant they would stay in the musty dark room but losing meant traipsing through fields in the rain and chasing Bigfoot. She’d never admit it, but she there were times when she preferred it when she lost, because losing meant a new chance to share a secret world with this man, one no outsider would ever understand.

She had opinions on the quality of coffee around the country. She could tell whether she’d have heartburn from it with just a sniff of the air as she walked into the convenience store – often before the bell on the door had stopped chiming. She knew which chains refilled their carafes regularly and would request stops there.

One convenience store in Utah had no coffee, the Mormon cashier saying that caffeine was against his religion, but could he interest her in a coke instead? Mulder had laughed as she had ranted about ignorance, the comparative levels of caffeine in cola versus coffee, her First Amendment rights, and the heartburn caused by the carbonation for the next 50 miles.

But she didn’t remember the taste of the most important cups of coffee in her life.

The mug she left half finished at her mother’s kitchen table after scattering her father’s ashes, claiming a work emergency so she could make a quick escape because she couldn’t handle expecting her father to join them any second, complaining that they hadn’t saved him any, stealing sips from her mother’s cup as they talked and he waited for a refill to brew.

The disposable cup Mulder had pressed into her fist in a Minneapolis field office, giving a statement as she tried to regain her professionalism after losing her composure in front of 20 agents.

The pots she made in her mother’s kitchen, drifting on autopilot after they had buried her sister. That day, she tried a bag of “Tranquil Moments” herbal tea Melissa had left in the cupboard and had once tried to make her drink because it “isn’t healthy for you to be running around nonstop, Dana, you need a chance to breathe too.”

The cup a week after her first round of chemo, which tasted like metal covered in dirt. She had spat it back into the mug and thrown up in the kitchen sink. For months afterwards, she’d silently accepted every cup Mulder offered her, but threw it out as soon as his back was turned.

The coffee breaks she’d shared with Mulder while they were stuck on Kersh’s fertilizer duty, walking down the street to the hipster coffee shop with the twenty year old whose facial hair changed weekly. After one particularly awful session in the AD’s office, Mulder had asked for an application, and the barista laughed, assuming he was joking. She was only half sure he wasn’t.

A thermos full of Irish coffee as they propped themselves against the chain link backstop of an abandoned baseball diamond, talking about everything and nothing, still feeling the heat of his body pressed against her back and wondering if she should have turned around and kissed him when she had the chance.

The slow brews she’d shared with Mulder on lazy Sunday mornings, the taste chased from her tongue by Mulder’s slow kisses.

The ones she’d refused while pregnant and nursing, the lack of sleep and caffeine adding a dream-like state to the months, so that when she looked back at that time, it took on an otherworldly sheen. (It didn’t help that any explanation of those two years sounded absurdist to any outside observer – “My partner was abducted by aliens, returned dead, buried for three months and then exhumed because he wasn’t dead, just in stasis.” “Even though I had no ova due to experiments conducted on me against my will by a shadow government, I had a baby who was considered the greatest single threat to an alien invasion and consequently was in constant danger until I gave him up for adoption.”)

The cup that sat on her mother’s table as she tried desperately to explain herself, (“I don’t think I’ll ever understand,” her mother had responded tearfully), her own tears blurring her vision as her mother kissed her grandson goodbye for the last time.

The rushed caffeine fixes on the run, cups she picked up at 5AM in truck stops, wearing a hoodie that covered hair dyed blond, brown, black, and even for a little while back to red, while Mulder hid in a run-down motel room. She couldn’t remember the taste of anything during those months, fear chasing all the flavor away.

And then, once again, gulping scalding servings down between patients, children this time, as she saved other people’s babies because she was unable to care for her own.

Impromptu coffee dates with Mulder, him sipping his morning coffee with bleary eyes and bed head, her drinking a cup of decaf before bed, smelling of antiseptic soap and latex, fighting sleep because she hadn’t seen him in three days and she missed him.

The cup she made all alone in his kitchen (no longer hers, all her belongings packed up and in the back of her car), leaving the pot mostly full so he’d have something to drink when he ambled out of his lair, washing the mug so it wouldn’t sit in the sink for days before walking out the door.

Then one day, the coffee pot ignored once again in the basement as they discussed cases, tentatively at first as they tried to regain their footing, then found themselves and each other again. One morning, as she dropped her briefcase off in her area, looking at his desk in his office, she wondered if she hadn’t found herself back in the same endless circle. Then Mulder had shaken her out of her musings with a hand on her shoulder and a discolored mug as an offering. Their fingers touched and she realized that they aren’t circling back to the start but traveling onwards together.

The coffee Mulder made as she tried to arrange her mother’s funeral, untouched in the carafe as she thought about her reuniting with Ahab and Missy, and jealously wishing that she’d be with them soon (but only for a moment before pushing the forbidden thought out of her mind).

And then, one night, the specialty coffees Mulder brought to her apartment, sitting untouched on her kitchen counter as they fell into bed together again. She made a fresh pot for him the next morning.

Sam Winchester is fifteen years old. He’s whip smart and dangerously clever. He’s a damn teenage tease and ruiner of big brothers everywhere (except really only his big brother, unless all the guys who get ruined by Dean for even looking too long count, too).

He’s fifteen and he looks all kinds of innocent right up until he doesn’t, when he takes innocent things and makes them fucking sinful, the more witnesses the better. Dad makes for the best audience because Dean can’t do shit while he’s watching and Dad can’t say anything either, not unless he wants to acknowledge that his youngest son is being deliberately provocative and why? The only ones who see him are his father and brother.

But Dad’s not around, holed up somewhere three counties over with Caleb hunting God only knows what, so it’s just Sam and Dean and a greasy diner off Route 66. Sam had batted his pretty boy lashes and played it up for the middle-aged waitress who seemed taken with his soft voice and good manners.

She left the bill on their table along with two knock off tootsie pops, refilling Dean’s tiny diner mug with coffee before going back to the counter. Dean only takes his eyes off his brother long enough to fish the cash out of his wallet, but as he returns it to his back pocket and looks across the table, Dean almost chokes. His mouth waters instantly and he pushes a harsh breath out his nose, his lips pursed together firmly.

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anonymous asked:

Nurseydex where they're both trans please please please

hahaha okay!  So I been thinking about what to write for this for like a week now. but you know what I wanna right some fluffy stuff that isn’t about the “bad days”.  I have read enough “bad days” to last me a lifetime on top of actually living them. I am sorry if its not explicitly enough about them being trans. 

Thank you for the prompt!


He doesn’t want to open his eyes. Its the one freaking morning that he can sleep in. He buries himself further into the blankets and his pillow. The other side of the bed is cold. Dex must have gotten up early. He smells coffee and rolls over to the smell. He squints at the “Dr. Cool” mug on the nightstand. He snorts. It was Dex’s Secret Santa Present to him a couple of years ago. 

“Well they didn’t have ‘Nurse Chill’ mug , so, this was the next best thing.”  It’s Nursey’s favorite mug. Dex’s buys him a new one every year to have spares for when Nursey eventually breaks one. Nursey is really careful with them to spite Dex. He likes to imagine that they will have a whole shelf of these obnoxious red 50′s diner mugs. 

Right now though, he debating the merits of moving from his side of the bed to get said coffee. Its like asking him to cross the Arctic Circle for a cup of Jo, yanno know? He snorts again. He should write that down… But, that would mean leaving the bed. Hmmm… Yeah, it wasn’t that good of line anyways.  His brow furrows at the mug until he rolls back over to look at the window.  He can see the birds working on their nest and chirping louder than necessary.  Yet, he still finally closes his eye for what must have been for a minute, maybe more than minute. Then, there is spreading icy chill spooning up to his back. He eyes snap open and he groans. 

“What the hell, Dex? Did you hang out in a freaking freezer this morning?” Nursey hisses over his shoulder.  He can feel the huff of a laugh against the joint of his shoulder and neck. 

“Hmmm… Maybe.” Dex presses the words into his bare shoulder with cool kisses. “It was definitely weirdly cold walking to and from the doctors.”  That’s right, Dex had his annual physical today.  Nursey turns in Dex’s arms to face him. 

“So, How did it go? Everything good under the hood?” Nursey wiggles his eyebrows and leers.  Dex rolls his eyes at Nursey’s ridiculousness. 

“Doctor had no complaints.  My levels still looked good.  None of my freckles are cancerous, yet.”  Dex chuckles at that before continuing, “ She gave me the “do not forget to wear sunscreen, try to minimize my stress, and, I should consider using birth control” speech, again.”  Nursey startles with a laugh.  Nursey was there the last time she gave that speech. She said it as more of a disclaimer than to actually lecture Dex, but, it was still funny to watch. 

“Did she do in that voice this year?” Nursey clears his throat.

”Now William, I can not stress the importance of sunscreen for someone of your complexion. Skin Cancer is no joke, mister.” Nursey mimicking the doctor’s very dry monotone voice. 

“OMG. did you have to remind her the whole ‘accidental pregnancy’ thing is impossible with us?”  Nursey beams at his realization. Dex face palms and groans. 

“Yes. I didn’t phrase it nearly as appropriately as you did last year. You would think that because she and her husband sees both of us that she would put two and two together. But, ugh, enough about my oblivious doctor, whats on your agenda for today?”  Nursey pretends to think it over, before, he pushes on Dex’s shoulder until he is laying on his back. Nursey swings a leg over to straddle Dex’s lap. 

“Well I didn’t have anything planned, but, I can think of a few things to do.”  Dex’s hands coming to grip at Nursey’s waist and ribs. 

“O. Really?” Nursey leaning down to give Dex a small kiss. 

“Yeah, maybe you should move your glasses out of harm’s way.”  Dex nods in agreement and takes off his glasses.  Nursey instantly pulls Dex into a searing kiss, which, Dex will later claim that was the reason why he was so distracted.  

Dex tries to place to glasses on the nightstand without breaking off his kiss with Nursey.  He is reaching and groping for the hard surface of the wood. He is tempted to just throw them in the direction of the nightstand, and, get back to more important matter at hand. No, he needs his glasses to see, but, he could get Nursey hunt for them later. Then, the edge of his glasses catch on something and he just pushes the glasses the rest of the way. The following shatter echoes through their apartment. Nursey breaks the kiss to look at the sound. He burst out laughing.  

“ What? Nursey? What fell over?”  Nursey is laughing so hard he can’t breathe.  

“I can’t believe,” He gasps, “ you just broke the mug.” Another gasp for oxygen,”Who knew, you, could be so accident prone?” Dex collapses back on the bed. He flushes in embarrassment, but, not before his hand are covering face. Nursey continues to fall into a giggling fit at Dex’s collarbone.  

“Jerk.” Dex says when moves his hands to  push at Nursey’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, but you love me, right?” Nursey lifting his head looking so sincere and vulnerable.  Both of them are staring at each other. The sunlight is catching their profiles.  It’s one of those moments. Those moments where they are reminded that love isn’t built on big grand moments, but, on small ridiculously silly domestic ones. Dex sighs happily, the answer is always the same. 

“Yeah, of course, I do.”  

CHRISTMAS GIFTS MASTERPOST

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2

If you want to be added, feel free to ask <3

In the Enchanted Forest, it was a tradition; Grace would go out with her small group of friends, to the Christmas Stalls alongside her friends. This was the night she would buy her papa and her ‘Princess-Who-Ran-Away-Stepmother,’ (Not always a good title, considering some stepmothers,) Christmas Presents. If the snow was thick on the ground, she would stay out, making snow angels with her friends, but not before her father had told her to 'wrap up warm,’ and 'stay away from the woods.’

Being a princess, and after running away to be with the man you loved, most things had been taught to you, such as wrapping up presents. You had taught Jefferson a more efficient way to wrap all of Grace’s gifts, and leave them under the tree. Although throughout the process, he would grumble, nothing could make a smile appear on his face faster than when you told him how cute he was.

Soon, several presents were wrapped in gold paper, completed with curled white ribbon, (A speciality of yours,) and placed under the tree. Jefferson, now completely covered in glitter and ribbon, was standing next to you, a ribbon stuck in his long hair. 

“Y/N…” He began, pointing at the ribbon “Help…" 

You chuckled, pulling out the ribbon gently, and dropping it to the group. Although his head was dropped in embarrassment, you sighed, running a hand through his hair, pushing it back, and kissing his forehead. He smiled, taking your hand into his. 

The moment was almost ruined, when Grace entered, a small basket with presents wrapped laid inside. She ran over, nestling herself between her two parents, happy they were all together at last.


Christmas in Storybrooke was a little different. On Christmas Eve, you found yourself sitting at the counter of Granny’s Diner, a mug of Peppermint Hot Chocolate in front of you, spinning it aimlessly with the spoon you had been given.

The bell rang, causing you to turn around, seeing who had entered. There, stood a man, with his dark hair and clothing, but this time, holding a golden-parcelled present, a white ribbon decorating the whole box. You saw this man nearly everyday, yet, you couldn’t work out where you had seen him.
You were just a simple dressmaker, after all. 

Instead of saying anything, he placed down the parcel next to you, before adjusting his scarf, his look resting on you for a little longer. Raising your eyebrows, you pulled the parcel closer to yourself, turning in your chair to face him.

"Thank you…” You begin, wanting a name.

“Sorry. Jefferson-” He holds out his hand, which you shake gently, a flash of regret across his dark eyes. 

“Y/N.” You respond. He watches as you finger the package, wondering what on earth it was. “It looks familiar…” You mumble to yourself.

“It should do.” He speaks, softly enough for you not to hear. “You taught me.”

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12 ‘Gilmore Girls’ gifts for every Stars Hollow fan on your holiday list

Sure, it has always been — and always will be — acceptable to gift someone a Gilmore Girls-inspired present. But what better time to do so than right after its revival premieres on Netflix? From Luke’s Diner-themed coffee items to tote bags covered in Stars Hollow residents, we dug up 12 gifts that would be perfect for every person on your list this year.

  • Team Jess, Logan and Dean T-shirts
  • Coloring book.
  • Engraved pencil set
  • “In omnia paratus” mug
  • “Where You Lead” cuff
  • Gilmore-themed eyeshadow
  • Stars Hollow subscription box
  • Character tote
  • Gilmore-themed lip balms
  • A classic Gilmore quote print
  • Luke’s Diner mug 
  • This might be the best of them all.

i hate when diner mugs have those little handles you can only fit your index and middle finger in. maybe mr. manager these tiny little mugs are satisfactory for your traffic cop patrons and 2 fingers is enough for your rheumatoid widowed ladies and their decaf but i go for the GUSTO, i want a BIG mug of coffee with a 3-finger capable handle, at LEAST

Maggie sat alone in one of the far corners of the diner, an untouched mug of black coffee leaving a ring on the table before her. Sprawled across the table was a newspaper, specifically opened to the world news section. It was a quiet day, for which Maggie was somewhat glad, as the gentle buzz of the diner distracted her just enough from what she didn’t bare thinking about.

anonymous asked:

Blaine comforting and taking care of Kurt after the mug (like in a fic or a romantic movie, wat)

+

hanacabana:

no but Blaine is making dinner, and Kurt is late and he’s really irritated and a little anxious because Kurt missing dates is how it started before and when he finally hears the door 3 hours later he loses his temper a little because Kurt could have at least called but then he turns around and sees him covered in blood and shaking and then all of his anger immediately disappears and Blaine does everything he can to help but he’s breaking inside and all he can say is sorry over and over

I combined the two, I hope that’s okay for you both !

Where the fuck is Kurt?

Not that Blaine exactly slaved over dinner, but still, the pasta and tomato sauce is starting to congeal, and it’s going to be gross, and even if he warms it all up, it’s not going to be as perfect as he planned it and …

And Kurt should have been home one hour ago.

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