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suaine · 1 year

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6x15 coda | Eddie goes to El Paso and talks to his mom | 1.5k

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Even though he thinks of LA as home these days, El Paso is where he grew up, where he met Shannon, where Chris was born. El Paso has his heart in ways that LA could never understand and never replicate. Eddie sits on his parents’ porch late at night and listens to the noise of late spring in Texas. They are far enough outside the city for nature to replace the sounds of humans and it’s a symphony he knows well, white noise that is working away at the noise in his head.

Eddie knows it won’t drown it out altogether, but maybe if he just sits here for a while, he’ll be able to sleep.

It’s entirely dark when he hears the screen door open and close, a distinct sound that reminds him of a childhood running after his sisters as they start a new game and draw him in. Eddie smiles to himself but it feels heavy somehow, like he’s saying goodbye to something.

His mother sits next to him without a word but she hands him a steaming mug of coffee, the way he used to drink it, a little more bitter and less frivolous than he has come to enjoy it. There’s a softness to him now he has never allowed himself to feel when he was younger.

“Thanks,” Eddie says, eyes still on the horizon. The desert stares back at him with a vastness that would be terrifying if he was here alone. But he’s not alone and that’s something he’s slowly letting himself believe.

His mother hums and takes a sip from her own mug. “You looked like you needed it.”

Eddie has never doubted his mother’s love for him, not the way Buck always struggled with his own parents, but she has a way about her that makes it hard to be truly open. They have that in common, walls so high that no one can climb over them, only knock them down.

“Pepa talked to you,” he says, suddenly certain that this is why she’s been pushing for them to come visit.

His mother sighs. “She means well. Ramon and Pepa and your abuela, they all love you so much. They only want the best for you, all in their own way.” She rests her hand on his knee. “But they don’t know you like I do.”

Eddie shakes his head, but not because she is wrong. There is a connection between them, something so primal it’s hard to put into words. They’re too similar to get along, sometimes, too broken in the same ways to really communicate. “I’ve been thinking about Shannon a lot,” he says and his mother tenses.

“Ah.” It’s a sound that stands alone, that encompasses so much hurt and misunderstanding and guilt.

“I know you never liked her,” he says, weary and unwilling to fight over choices he made long ago.

But his mother huffs. “I liked her fine,” she says, “I just didn’t like her for you.”

A brittle, nasty laugh breaks out of Eddie’s chest. “Yeah, that’s just the same thing dressed up for church.”

“Eddie,” she says. She sounds weary, too. “You are my son.” Her voice suddenly sounds foreign, harder, like she’s speaking from a place far north, half a world away. “You are my son and that’s something I’ve tried to shield you from more than you know.”

Eddie thinks about all of the times in his childhood when his mother insisted to cook his abuela’s recipes, to celebrate their holidays the Mexican way, to hide herself in his father’s culture. How he calls her abuela when he speaks to Christopher and never thought to learn Swedish, a language that was never spoken in this house.

“When I met your father, he was warm and full of life, and I knew that I would follow him anywhere. But I was glad it was here.” She looks out at the desert. “It is easy to say I love you in English.”

Growing up, he and his sisters sometimes laughed about his mother’s accent when she spoke Spanish, but it’s only now that he’s letting himself think about the fact she learned two languages for them and never spoke her own.

“Shannon was a good girl, but you and her were two kids clinging to each other because the world was a scary place and you recognized a kindred spirit. I know, because I saw a lot of myself in her. And there is too much of me in you.”

Eddie is silent. There is nothing he can say.

“She died before either of you could find out that you were walking the same path in different directions.”

Eddie swallows hard, a sudden lump constricting his throat. “Before, uh, before she died. Shannon, she wanted a divorce.”

He’s never told his mother this because he was afraid of the vindication she would feel. Knowing that she was always right and showing it, making him feel young and foolish. But she doesn’t do that now, only sighs and leans closer, wrapping her arms around him. “Oh, Eddie, my poor boy.”

And he doesn’t know why this is what sets him off, that lets the tears finally run freely. But he is burning with it, tears running hot and wet down his face, his every breath a sob that shakes him to the core. “She- she said she needed to learn to be a mother first. That she couldn’t be both.”

His mother is running soft hands down his back and through his hair, humming something that could be a lullaby, but one he’s never heard before. Eddie lets himself be held and allows his tears to fall freely.

It takes hours, years, minutes, a moment. But the weight on his chest is lighter and the noise in his head is quieter. It feels like the desert just after a thunderstorm.

His mother lets him go as he pushes away slowly, but her eyes are on his, searching for something. She nods when she finds what she’s looking for and puts her hands on his face, rubbing the tear tracks with her thumbs. There is a light in her that Eddie has never let himself see, always eclipsed by the Texas sun.

“When you find the one you want to be with, you will know, because they will burn brighter than the sun. They will make you feel warm and safe and loved like no one else ever has.”

She smiles and Eddie feels the way she carefully avoids gender like a punch to the chest. How could she know when he hasn’t let himself even think about that part of himself? Has it always been there? And worse than that, when her words fall on him, each one stings with the knowledge that he has found his person long ago, has found exactly this feeling and is maybe too scared to ever do something about it.

“What if- what if they don’t want me back?” It’s the fear that keeps him locked up tight, running everywhere but where he wants to be.

His mother smiles. “Eddito,” she says, her accent so familiar it wraps around him like a blanket, “anyone would be lucky to have you. When he sees you, he will love you.”

He already does, Eddie knows that, just maybe not the way Eddie wants. And oh.

Oh, his mother knows this, too. Eddie doesn’t talk about Buck to his parents, tries to keep what they have, this weird, fragile little family that is always, always on a deadline, to himself as much as possible. But of course, his mother talks to her grandson and Chris has no such problems gushing about the man that’s taking up so much space in their lives.

What Eddie doesn’t say is as loud as the things he does and his mother has been hearing him his whole life. But she is like him, and he is like her, unable to put words to the emotions that are so heavy and vast in his chest. It’s not that they don’t feel, the two of them, it’s that they feel in ways that are hard to translate.

“Mom, I-” He stops, frustrated with himself and his silence.

She puts a finger to her lips and taps twice, shaking her head. “You don’t have to explain. You don’t have to say anything before you’re ready. But I think you will be ready soon and we will be here when you are.”

A new silence falls between them. It feels lighter, more complicit, like they are sharing a secret in the dark. Eddie drinks the last of his coffee, long since cooled to the ambient temperature. It tastes bitter.

“Mom, I have to tell you something. I actually like my coffee with oat milk and sugar these days,” he says, because he can’t say everything else.

She pats his back and nods. “Then we’ll make another pot.”

Eddie smiles at her. “That sounds like a great idea.”

#911 fic #911 spoilers #eddie diaz #buddie

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kla1991 · 6 months

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Salvage Spanish Tortilla (recipe)

Alright tumblr, I imagine we pretty much all know the tragedy of feasting on delicious hot french fries and realizing there are going to be some left over. Some of us optimistically put those poor bastards in the fridge, thinking maybe this time they won't turn into cold, soggy, gritty disasters. Some give up the ghost and throw cold fries out right away.

But there is an alternative!

I'll skip the loving memories of my host in Spain cooking delicious tortillas to take to the beach and get right to it. To save those delicious leftover fries, you will need:

A frying pan (small enough that your leftover fries will cover the bottom)

a spatula (the bigger the better)

a small bowl

a fork or whisk

some kind of cooking oil (olive oil is ideal, but you can use anything, including butter)

eggs

Step 1: Coat the frying pan with the cooking oil of your choice, and don't skimp, because if you go too easy on the oil, the tortilla will stick to the pan.

Step 2: Break the fries into bits (about the size of the first joint of your thumb is ideal, but this isn't rocket surgery, just make 'em small). If you wanna do this the fancy way you can use an knife and cutting board, but you can also just rip 'em up with your hands. You want enough bits to cover the bottom of the pan, tightly packed. More tightly packed than that. Tighter, like sardines!

Step 3: Crack 1-3 eggs into a bowl and whisk them until they're completely uniform. Unless you're cooking in a wok, you won't need more than 3 eggs. If you're not sure how many eggs you'll need, whisk them one at a time and add until you get the right effect for step 4.

Step 4: Pour whisked eggs over top of the fries until there's egg in all the little cracks between the fries. Don't drown the fries, just connect them, like grout in a mosaic.

Step 5: Cook the tortilla at slightly less than medium heat. BE PATIENT! Do not poke it or stir it or anything else. Treat the tortilla like you would an omlet or a pancake, let it cook and don't flip it too early. Listen for a crackle, and watch the edges: when the edges look firm and cooked, you're just about ready to flip, give it one more minute.

Step 6: Flip the tortilla, trying to keep it in one piece. This is hard, and if it breaks into pieces, that's okay. Resist the urge to scramble it! Just flip the broken pieces. If you want to cut your tortilla into halves or quarters and flip those, that's a good strategy! Let it sizzle on the other side briefly, it'll take a lot less time than the first side.

The fries might look kinda damp and weird. I promise they're fine. Don't cook this until the fries look dry, you'll set it on fire before tha ever happens.

Once it's cooked on both sides, serve and eat! You can eat it as is, or with ketchup, salsa, or whatever else you want. It might be good with maple syrup if you have a sweet tooth!

This recipe is also workable with home fries and tater tots! Just skip the cutting step and adjust the egg amount as needed.

#I'll add a picture later I'm eating tortilla right now #recipes #cooking

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blackmagicforever · 1 year

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stained glass windows in my mind (i regret you all the time) - Chapter One

Chapter One: a short love story of three parts

zero. point of start.

The earliest existing memory Bella has of her childhood was of her mother crying while holding her.

She remembers the coldness and wetness of the rain, how the white blankets were soft but provided no heat, and her mom. She had purple, upside down, rainbows under her eyes, glassy eyes, and rained salty teardrops on her small baby head. Her hair was a chestnut halo, and the hot pink shirt she wore looked like a wilting rose petal.

Bella theorized to herself that Renée was murmuring something, but her memory didn’t stretch that far. Just that imprint of the memory, the colors fading as time passed. If she focused on it without trying to pay attention to the memory itself, the colors became more vibrant, and the shapes became sharper.

She had a vague image of both Mom and Charlie holding her. It wasn’t as sharp, as vibrant.

The following memories were a blur of floral stamped sofa covers, the smell of lavender and her grandma’s soup. Mom had fled with baby Bella to the safety of her own mother. She grew up with Mom, and Grandma Maria. Didn’t meet her father properly until she was aware enough to ask if she had a Daddy, like the other girls in her class.

Bella remembers the lesson that came from asking about Charlie.

Grandma had made a strange expression, at that moment Bella didn’t know it was a mixture of pity and disgust. She had glared at Renée, Bella remembers, and snapped in quick Italian at Renée. Her mother’s face had flushed in deep red, snapping in rapid, angry Italian back.

Grandma had turned to Bella, huffing an angry, “Piccola, why are you asking?”

Shyly, Bella had explained how girls in her class asked after her Daddy, and didn’t she have one too?

Grandma had a severe look in her eye and asked if the girls were giving Bella trouble, but before Bella could answer, Renée cut in with a quick, “Nonsense! Children are children Máma.”

Bella kept silent about how her classmates treated her after that. After all, why try to tell Renée if she was going to shrug it off?

As Bella grew up, she kept going back to that lesson as Renée kept shrugging her off. Children are children? No, Bella thought, children are horrible. They are cruel. They are like sharks underneath calm waves, scenting blood in the water.

The good thing that came out of it was that Bella learned Italian as her second language. She hyper fixated on learning it that she caught herself thinking and cursing in Italian as the years went by. She picked up Latin and Spanish as she went.

In all honesty, Bella crammed so many inane things in her brain, so many research binges, that it was no surprise that she ended up in the AP classes. Learning came quietly, but easy to her. The less she said about her balance, or lack thereof, the better.

She held a special love for literature. She seeked refuge within yellowed pages and written prose. Bella loved how her brain turned off and allowed her to immerse herself inside a new universe for her to pry apart and build on it.

She learned to love classics on her Grandma’s lap. Black and white mute movies, old literature treasures, the passage of renaissance art, the subtle self-love of red lipstick and powerful hands.

Grandma Maria taught her with a gentle hand how to cook simple things, and whispered where to find the family recipes if something ever happened. To this day, she kept the old family recipe book with her wherever she went.

From Renée, she learnt the art of budgeting. Of growing up too fast in order to play house with her mom. Just, in the times they played house, it was Bella the mom and Renée the daughter.

As she grew up, Bella found herself becoming tired. Tired of taking care of her mother when it should be the other way around. Tired of becoming an outcast from her classmates because she was too busy maintaining two jobs, the house, and keeping Renée alive. Tired of becoming an adult before she had to.

When Renée remarried, Bella was wary.

Phil was young in a way that he could have been her older brother in another life. Not that it made Renée a cradle robber, she was still in her thirties after all. Phil in his twenties.

It was jarring, Bella concluded to herself quietly. Here was Phil, a handful of years older than her, in a whirlwind love with her mother. Here was Phil, with the nice guy act and charming smile, whose eyes followed Bella when Renée wasn’t looking.

Bella was about to do, she didn’t know, something. Anything. She was getting sick of having Phil suddenly up in her business when Renée wasn’t there. And Renée was never there. Not with the bills, not with the rent, and not when Grandma Marie was wheezing quietly in her hospital room.

pause. ap english lit. a fucking revelation in the wrong place wrong time.

“What about your dad?” Isabelle leans, long blonde hair spilling over her shoulder.

They were comically always paired together. Isabelle Hawthorn, blonde, preppy, popular, with Isabella Swan, brunette, quiet, in the outskirts. Nevermind that they had a derivative of the same name, the two girls were polar opposites. There were about five other Isabellas scattered in their grade.

In AP English Lit. Bella had a fucking revelation. What about her dad?

It came at the wrong fucking moment since they were supposed to be discussing The Great Gatsby and it’s motifs, but Isabelle was talking to a few girls who painted their makeup the same way as the celebrities did at that moment. Bella didn’t mean to listen in, she was just inconveniently right next to the gossiping girl group.

“What about him? Mom refuses to, like, take me there since- y’know… The homewrecker would be there.” Olive with the blue eyeshadow and bleached blonde hair sighs as she pops her gum. “I’d be into going if only to see what daddy dearest can give me. S’ the least he could do after running away with the homewrecker, y’know?”

Olive with pink hair and blue eyes says, “I totally get you, Matty’s got the same thing going. Only… her mom did the running. She went insane and went all hick and plaid.”

“What’s Matty gonna do?”

“What do you think? Drop city life to become a recluse? As if!” Lola with butterfly pins in her hair scoffs. “If anything, I bet she’ll have to, ugh, compromise and just spend a few days with her mom and then live full time here with her dad.”

“Moms usually have prominence over dads when it comes to custody battles though,” Olive with the blue eyeshadow sighs, “I would know after the trainwreck that was my parents divorce.”

“Imagine living in a small town though? Where everyone knows everyone and there’s nothing to do there?” All four girls shudder.

Bella stays next to them, quiet, mind whirling.

zero. follow up to the revelation. mother and daughter bonding fails.

“Bella, what are you talking about?” Renée interrupts Bella.

Bella gets this sudden urge to scream and slam something down and hear it crash.

She breathes in and tries again. And again. And again. Until it takes Phil’s third time post-wedding honeymoon phase leaving for a few weeks to do whatever his league at baseball does for Renée to start getting antsy at being left behind.

Bella angles it to view it from Renée’s love rose colored glasses instead of her more rational and tired way of view.

“Don’t you see, mom? If I stay with Charlie, Phil will have you supporting him there.”

It takes until the end of her second trimester in junior high for her mom to accept the idea of Bella leaving to live with Charlie.

Then it’s just packing and arranging things with the school administration and Forks High School with Charlie’s help.

God. Charlie. It was going to be awkward as hell. It’s been three years since she’s been at Forks. The last two summers she had to spend time with her dad had been down in LA afterall.

It isn’t that Bella hates Forks, it’s just that the wet and cold gives her hives. Not literal hives, unless you count that one moment where she tripped and fell on poison ivy when she tried hiking with some girls and boys in Forks and Charlie. Last time she saw those girls and boys her age had been when she was thirteen. She sometimes wonders about them in the vague sense you think of childhood friends that slowly left you due to time passing by.

She grew up in the comfort of dry heat, bustling city, and huge school campus. With new coffee shops and glee to find new bookstores. Hell, even going shopping the few times she said yes to Renée’s manic wardrobe episodes.

Forks was the antithesis of her usual day to day life.

In this, Bella relates to Renée. Forks does feel like it would be the death of herself.

She didn’t know how true that sentiment would be. Or what would come afterwards.

interlude. before the storm and sunshine.

She arrived on a rainy day. It kept raining, and the only day there was sun, he wasn’t there.

Bella didn’t know if it was a sign, or something, but if it rained (and she hated rain) when he was there, what did it mean that he wasn’t when it was sunny?

one. a new start. only, not. not really.

Forks was just the same as she left it. Except for the Cullens™, a rich family with drop dead gorgeous kids and parents. And Jessica Stanley, who Bella never met but the rest of the kids she used to hang out with did.

High School Politics™ has made Lauren Mallory even more stuck up than when they were thirteen and trying some red lipstick and burning smores. Mike and Tyler have given into becoming jocks, nevermind that Bella still remembers that one time Tyler slipped on wet sand and dragged Mike’s swimming briefs down. Both boys screamed in horror while Lauren and Bella laughed. Eric has found a deep passion in photography and journalism, though he still held a manly crush on comics and manga. Angela was still the same, and thank fuck for that since Angela has been and always will be the sane voice of reason.

Bella was just glad that the childhood summer friendships she had when she was thirteen survived enough for her to slip into the group as if she never left. Sure, the other kids saw her as the new girl, but this group saw her as Bella who once dared Mike to throw himself off the cliff into the water and the dumbass actually went and did it. Minus Jessica, whom Bella was feeling weird vibes from.

pause. a conversation between girls in the bathroom during lunch break.

“Relax,” Lauren soothes her, “Stanley is probably worried about her standing in the group, since we all knew each other since diapers and she’s the new girl.”

“I thought I was the new girl though?” Bella raises an eyebrow.

Lauren snorts, “You were born here, Elizabeth Bennet. Stanley came when she was eight and never settled into our group until we hit middle school.” She sighs, cornsilk colored hair being pulled into a messy bun, “You left us for the heat and city life around the time she settled with us. Bet that she’s comparing herself to you and coming up short.”

“No bet,” Bella refuses, “last time we made a bet, Mike ended up puking fifteen smores while Eric and Tyler recorded the whole thing.”

Lauren sharply moves the mascara wing away from her face before she stabs herself in the eye, she’s snort-laughing so hard she’s shaking. And there was the girl Bella knew.

two. interrogations.

She’s not obsessed, alright? Shut up, Lauren.

Edward Cullen was aggravatingly stupid and enchanting, Bella didn’t know why he called out to her so much.

She has so many questions. About everything.

And then the dumbass goes and saves her from Tyler’s van.

Really, if he didn’t want her to suddenly ask questions and stuff, then he shouldn’t have bothered!

Bella thinks, and she does like to think a lot, but she thinks that she’s actually making progress with Edward! Nevermind that Jessica is glaring at her, Lauren is laughing at her, and the boys are acting weird lately with all the Edward Cullen™ talk. Angela is, as always, a supportive best friend. The bestest.

interlude. nightmare.

Out of everything, Bella did not think of the consequences of poking the metaphorical bear with a large stick.

Fucking vampires?!?!?!?!

“This is way above my pay grade,” She realizes with some horror. Then, of course, that horror became fascination. Because what the fuck?

interlude pt. 2. consequences and complications.

She became distant from her human friend group as the Cullen lifestyle welcomed her. Edward and Alice convinced her that it was for the best. And, well, Bella Swan is just a 17 year old girl who didn’t know better.

pause. a conversation between two girls before a disaster.

“Bella, this isn’t you.” Lauren confronted her before Edward came to whisk her away to the Cullen's house.

“Um, what?”

“This!” Lauren gestures at her. “For fucks sake, you’re wearing the ugly blue sweater that Mike gifted you and sent it to you through Charlie. You swore that you would never wear it because the material was weird on your skin!”

“Lauren-”

“No! Bella, what’s going on? This isn’t you. You’re literally changing yourself for some rich guy who's going to leave and dump you with a baby on the way!”

“Lauren! It’s not like that!”

“Bella, this is the first time in this month we’re talking.” Lauren says. She huffs in disbelief. “Mike and Tyler are worried, they know how douchebag boys act after all. Eric tried talking to you but you blew him for Edward! Again, may I add! Angela is stress baking. And I just had it with Jessica trying to spread shit about you because you bagged a Cullen.”

“Lauren…”

“Bella,” Lauren starts before seeing Bella’s face. She became mad. “So it’s going to be like that? Bella, Edward is pulling you away from everyone who gives a fuck about you. Wake the fuck up!”

“Shut the fuck up, Lauren!” Bella throws her hands up, “God, it’s not that deep. Whatever is going on between Edward and I is my business.”

Lauren huffs out a disbelieving laugh, “Not that deep? Not that- Okay. I’m done.”

“Fine.”

“Great.”

The two stare at each other.

“Hope you have a happy whatever it is you have with the Cullens.” Lauren snaps. She pauses before storming out the house. “When everything is said and done, just remember we’re here. And say hello at least when we see each other Elizabeth Bennet.”

Bella didn’t know what to say to that. Edward arrived ten minutes later. Then they played baseball. And with baseball came James, and the hunt.

interlude. pt. 3. unnamed unspoken thoughts and conflictive violence.

She admits to herself, deep deep inside her where even if her wrong wired mind suddenly opened to Edward the thought wouldn’t resurface, that Lauren was right and that she was way over her head. But this is the same girl who stuck by her words, even when said words hurt those she gave a fuck about.

She also thought that she would live and become a published author with at least some decades under her belt before dying like her Grandmother Maria. Not, you know, dying via thirsty as fuck hunter vampire.

God, if Lauren was here James would’ve thought twice before crossing Bella.

(If Lauren was here, she would’ve brought a blowtorch with her.)

pause. consequences of actions.

Then there’s the bite, morphine, and fire.

three. the after. because it has yet to end for it to be a happy ending ever after. right?

Bella wakes up in a hospital, with a flimsy alibi that is very ridiculous, and having to convince her mother that she wants to go back to Forks.

After lights out, and ignoring how Edward hovered with self-loathing splattered all over him, Bella resolves to be a better friend to Lauren and co. Just because she has an immortal boyfriend whom she is very much in love with doesn’t excuse her for being a shitty friend.

pause. a kismet look between two girls in the middle of prom night.

Lauren is staring very hard at the cast on her leg and arm. Eric had grimaced and ran away, not before a commemorative photo though. Angela had said her ‘hello’s before ducking away with Ben Chenley, and since when did Ben fucking Chenley date her dear friend Angela? God, Bella was very behind on gossip. Mike was… Bella didn’t know where Mike was. Tyler either.

“Down a flight of stairs, and through a window?” Lauren raises an eyebrow.

Bella looks away and shrugs. Then Edward appears, because of course he does. He whisks her away, leaving Lauren next to the dance floor.

interlude. the blank time skip between parts.

During the summer she spends time between her human friends and her immortal vampire boyfriend and his family. Lauren is very anti-Edward, so is Eric and Tyler. Mike is in between making dirty jokes and fussing. Angela is there for her though, whenever the pointed remarks got too sharp and she wanted warm and not cold and unyielding skin.

endings of a three part short love story.

Then September comes. And with it, her birthday.

And with Edward breaking up with her.

---

#noirmagiks #blackmagicforever #fic: stained glass windows #twilight spite fic #twilight renaissance #twilight saga #twilight #badass bella swan #bella swan #lauren mallory #mike newton #eric yorkie #angela weber #the humans of forks #the cullens #tyler crowley

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archivelondonfalling-rpg · 2 years

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Eliza ‘Medea’ Crawford ♦ Cis Woman (she/her) ♦ Fourty-Nine ♦ Jolly Rogers ♦ Mob Boss

“I find it is easier to get exactly what you want if people do not realise it is actually you who is asking.”

They say that the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach and for Eliza Crawford, nee Garcia, that’s always been true. Between her stay at home mother bustling around the kitchen to fix the most wonderful meals for the five children (Eliza was the eldest) and her Spanish father bringing his home country right to the little flat they hand in London Eliza was surrounded by the best food she could imagine!

Being so close to her family Eliza thought nothing of helping out with her siblings and her childhood was full of laughter, love, teasing and pranks. Even if she did have to pick them up for school or help with homework more than others did. Eliza had a childhood people dreamed about, behind the scenes they had their difficulties (money being a main one) but the Garcias kept their children unaware of that and would always spoil them every holiday.

When Eliza was 10 the family’s luck changed and Mr Garcia’s Spanish recipes caught the eye of some impressive people, what started as sharing a few recipes with neighbours built quickly into having his own stall in Borough Market! The family were ecstatic and would spend hours after school with their father helping out with meal prep or just talking to customers. The family became well known in their little corner of the market.

That little corner did more to change her life though, at 16 her Dad was mugged. Just a lone youth feeling tough and seeing an old man shutting up shop and thought it’d be easy money. But he had a knife and Eliza begins whole heartedly that had it not been for the Jolly Rogers she’d have lost her father that day. One of their members stepped in, gave the boy a rough warning and sent him packing before ensuring that Mr Garcia got home safe and sound. Split between being terrified and grateful all of the Garcia’s wanted to show their thanks. Whether that was free meals, passing knowledge, even letting them hide out in their home or the stall. All the Garcia’s were on board. So it really wasn’t a surprise to them when Eliza started to get involved a little more.

It started with pickpocketing; the Market was full of people (and many were tourists) it was the perfect place to learn. No one expected her to be stealing from them and a hurried apology in Spanish was enough for her to move away from them before getting caught. Eliza realised that after years of just about getting by at school she’d found something she was good at. By age 19 she was a fully fledged member dedicating her life (and income) to the gang.

Over the years she grew into a smart, quick-thinking (and quick-fingered), confident young woman. She began to rise through the ranks taking great pride in every step up. She essentially began to see the Jolly Rogers as an extended family and when she got her own home it was just as common to see her actual siblings popping round for tea as it was members of the gang. In fact, they really did become her family. After years of skirting around each other Eliza started dating her future husband, despite the violence of the gang in which they’d met they were besotted and she enjoyed getting to see a softer side to him. The pair married in their late twenties and Eliza became Mrs Eliza Crawford. She delights in getting to call herself that.

The two of them are a working partnership in more ways than one. Their marriage is solid, they keep no secrets and have plenty of things to keep them occupied. He is also Eliza’s second in command at the Jolly Rogers. She trusts him more than anyone in the world.

Now, why does Eliza need a second in command? Well, when she was thirty-six the leader of the Jolly Rogers decided to stand down. He was getting old, wanted time to relax. He was still helping with the gang of course (The Jolly Rogers is a way of life) but he didn’t want to be leader. It was a surprisingly peaceful way that led to an election. Eliza put her name in. She wasn’t really expecting people to vote for her; she was quiet, often went unseen and in the shadows, seen more as a follower than a leader. So when the results came in and she won it was a shock to her! Since then she’s worked under the role of The Crooked Hand following tradition within the gang. Although few know that it is her in charge she’s garnered a ruthless reputation for managing both the theft and assassination side of the gang. She rules with an iron fist.

On the outside she appears like a housewife for Mr Crawford, kind and timid, cooking meals for friends and family and keeping a lovely, busy home. But she’s far more than that and the double life gives her a thrill she doesn’t think she’ll ever tire of.

Despite being in charge of the Jolly Rogers at the time of the Agreement Eliza is now starting to change her mind. She doubts it will hold forever, is all too aware that all it would take was one policeman to change everything and send her and her motely crew away for a long time. The gang is her priority. Always. Not peace.

On a personal level Eliza can be very kind, extremely patient. It’s likely that she tends to mother the younger members as she is very maternal. She still sees her family often and looks out for all of them including nieces and nephews that have now arrived. The one aspect of family that is difficult for her is children. Although the reason is unknown the Crawfords have never been able to have a child despite both wanting them. It’s a wish that Eliza still holds close to her chest even as she has gotten older.

Her codename in general missions remains Medea and this stems from her desire. The name started as a cruel joke, a rumour as to why the Crawfords had no child, but rather than let it both her Eliza starting using it. The tragedy of the childless Medea and the unexpected violence certainly worked well for her persona and she’s found that reclaiming the gossip has helped somewhat with the events.

+ / - calm, patient, maternal, quick-thinking, adaptable, secretive, closed off, stern, untrusting

Bisexual, out and proud

Eliza will almost always have some sort of snack in her bag whether that’s biscuits, crisps etc.

She has tried to quit smoking 4 times.

She has a very obvious tell when she’s nervous because she fiddles with the hems of her sleeves (quite often making them frayed).

Her home is the exact opposite of what people who know her in the Mob world would expect but exactly what those who think of her as a housewife would.

She is bilingual. Her father is Spanish and her mother was English so she was brought up speaking both.

FC: Raquel Cassidy

#jolly rogers #eliza crawford #crime rp #bio rp #lsrp #writtenbyc #taken #Raquel Cassidy

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rhadinesthes · 11 months

Text

This was pretty damn good. Can't really go wrong with smoked pork rib or a good tomato, and green beans microwaved with a little butter and generous seasoning make a super easy and tasty side. That stack in the back is the real star of the show, though: pickle and onion waffles. (It's really just one waffle separated into its four quadrants.) I'm sure it sounds fucking weird, but they're so good I can't stop thinking about the leftovers in the 'fridge.

I watched a budget cooking vid the other day that talked about making fried pickles, and then the creator went nah, instead pickle fritters. Then they mentioned being inspired by a pickle-stuffed waffle recipe they saw, and my brain was off to the races.

Ingredients I used: •30g milk from dry (1.25 cups milk) •111g onion (3/4 an onion, but only because the onion was already partially used-- otherwise it would've been the whole onion) •334g baking mix (the waffle recipe I used is written in Sharpie on the side of the canister I keep the baking mix in and calls for two cups; I added more because it was a bit runny from the pickle juice) •2 eggs •184g pickles and a, uh... generous quantity of pickle juice (side note: I don't know if the pickle juice has enough vinegar to curdle the milk; it didn't seem to be an issue here, and I don't think it'd be an issue in this recipe anyway) •salt, pepper, generous garlic powder and Spanish paprika, and a little Cajun seasoning

I just mixed it all together until I got it to taste good and then dumped it into the waffle iron by the cup or so.

The waffle iron in question (after I made a mess of it and the stove):

(I have the original handles, but they seem rather frail. Also one of the screws is bent, so I just use an oven mitt.)

As another side note, the waffles smell like Chinese buffet for some reason I can't fathom. This can only be a boon in my book. Also, now I'm wondering if I could make okonomiyaki in this. 🤔

...Call it okonomiwaffle.

#Food #Cooking #Smoked Pork #Waffles #Pickle and Onion Waffles #Green Beans #Tomatoes #Cast Iron #Pics I took #Art of Content

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witheringwidgetwrites · 2 years

Note

sorry if you can’t really do anything with this but levi, asmo, satan and mammon (separately) with MC who speaks another language?

As u wish lovely, this ask is about like, a year or two late tho. Here's some headcannons for the boys!

Also I wasn't sure if you meant like, speaks a different language from them or like, speaks more than 1?? Also this is fairly vague bc most of them prob speak spanish, manderin, the most common languages yk yk? So i tried to leave room for guesses

LUCIFER

"Mammon! *insert vague swear*" anyway, it sounds familiar to him, and he realizes what it is. An ass violin? Really?

He chuckles to himself and doesn't mention it further, the thud in his chest beats a little louder than usual when you say something that sounds vaguely sexual in your native language.

He's lowkey a little impressed. It wouldn't mean anything to him seeing another human knowing more than one language, after all, it's easy right. But he's a little more impressed with you.

MAMMON

He would probably notice fastest, but only because you were saying something that sounded like "cocoa and penis" and he was super confused for a couple minutes. Like full on squinting, mouth ajar, he thinks he's going crazy.

"WHAT?" He rubs his eyes. Not sure what that's gonna help with though. He's leaning over, hands on his knees, it's a ridiculous sight to see.

He ends up being kind of embarrassed, acting like he was playing a joke on you. Thought he probably starts to try and teach himself bits and bits until one day he tries his limited knowledge on you, and calls you a tall turtle. Not sure how that happened.

LEVIATHAN

Probably knows what you're speaking in, ONLY because there was a super hyped up video game that came out a couple milleniums ago and he wanted the full effect, no dub for him.

It probably takes him a minute to respond some times, he just needs to think about it and make sure he's responding right. Hesitants every time because he doesn't want to feel stupid. Also self depreciates every 2 sentences so, a lil annoying.

SATAN

Probably wouldn't pay much mind to it at first. He speaks just about any language you can imagine.

But once you guys grow closer? Wow, MC is looking real smart. He assumes it's harder for humans to learn communication systems so that makes him 10x more proud. Assumes most humans are stupid tbh.

He'd probably find out one day when someone else points it out. You've been speaking to him in a non-english language and he's responded back casually, until Mammon starts complaining about how you're both probably talkin' shit. (You were asking where the flour is.)

ASMODEOUS

He personally probably knows a few. Not fluently, but enough to initiate relationships, usually sexual.

He's giddy when he figures it out, asks you to say stuff for him, videos you saying things so he can brag to the brothers about all the stuff you've taught him.

Definitely asks you to teach him swears if he doesn't know the language yet. If he does, 10000% is going shit talk in public with you.

BEELZEBUB

Never cared much, probably never put the effort into learning many because like, why? He does know the names of foods though, probably vague amounts to read recipes.

He's unlikely to say anything for a while, until one day he stumbles upon a recipe that seems like it has similar roots to the language you speak? Like the same, and he asks you about it.

If it's a big part of your life, he'll probably try to teach himself casually, watching intros to your language during his work outs.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me beel #obey me levi #leviathan obey me #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me headcanons

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wehavebiggerproblems · 3 years

Text

Fallout 4 Random Companion Headcanons

Wrote these a few years ago, too nervous then to share them.

Ada

-Ada was built in 2268. She's about 21 years old.

-Her first memory is of seeing The Mechanist in front of her. Then she watched as The Mechanist removed their head and smiled.

-She's Isabel's first project.

-Her voice was originally supposed to be more synthesized and robotic, but the more human sound was easier for Isabel to work with.

-Ada prefers to travels in groups with 3-4 people, knowing fully well a robot is a higher target for scavvers.

- Her base body was constructed from many different trial runs of the "ADA" project.

-She's programmed to remain indifferent but the nagging voice in her programming says to do good things in order to to aid other people.

-Ada appreciates the effort Sole goes through to upgrade her body. She doesn't think it's necessary and she's somewhat sentimental about her original form.

-She finds Codsworth's attachment to Sole strange. Almost too human, those Mr. Handy's.

Cait

-Cait loves baths. Bubble baths with bath bombs and even a little rubber ducky. Only Sole knows this.

-The rubber ducky's name is Codsworth. Will not explain why.

-Can fire a rifle over her shoulder behind her. (Annie Oakley style)

-Hates Jazz music. Says it's too slow and calm. Really dislikes it because she's uncomfortable slow dancing with anyone.

-Allergic to feathers. Rad chickens make her sick to be around.

-But once the feathers are removed, the chicken has been cut up, and cooked with some veggies and a loaf of bread, loves it.

-Chicken soup is her favourite dish. Only likes Sole's chicken soup though. Will not eat anyone else’s.

-Shot put would be her favourite sport. Throwing a heavy metal sphere a very long distance is goals.

Codsworth

-Codsworth can speak 8 languages. Including: English, Spanish, French, Japanese, German, Italian, Polish, and Swedish.

-Can recognize almost every written language and translate but lacks the programming to speak every one.

-Nate/Nora got him two years before Shaun was born.

-Sole did minimal repair work on him, and offered to polish him every time he got a dent or scratch.

-He always accepted the polish offer. Very wary of Sole doing factory repairs on him. Would prefer professionals doing the delicate work.

-Always celebrated Nate/Nora and Sole’s respective birthdays. For 200 years.

-When Sole called him "Family", he felt an odd electric pulse through his core processor. He decided to call it a skipped heart beat.

-Calls synth Shaun "Sonny", and "Young Master Shaun".

-Makes Sole's favourite meal when they come back home from Vault 111.

-Will ask to take over if he catches Sole doing chores.

-Hesitates when he has to bring up Sole's spouse knowing it's a touchy subject.

-His favourite friend of Sole's is Nick. Thinks Nick is a good role model for synth Shaun.

Curie

-Curie, like Codsworth can speak 8 languages. However, after becoming a synth, she can only speak about 4.

-Curie loves the feeling of velvet. Collects pieces of velvet clothing.

-Once wore a velvet cape around because she loved the way it draped over her shoulders and fluttered when she walked.

-Has sensory phases. Music, nice noises, soft materials, different foods, perfumes, etc. Collects whatever makes her senses happy.

-During the "feeling phase" her favourite feeling was holding Sole's hand. Loved running her hand over the surface of water. And velvet.

-Talks out what her feelings are with Piper. Piper explains to her what the "spin spin spin" in her head meant.

-Favourite smell is fresh baked bread. Bakes bread with Mama Murphy every weekend.

-Favourite sweet food is mutfruit pie. Will badger Piper to make it with her.

-Curie's motor functions are still new. Sometimes she misses what she was trying to grab and fumbles.

Danse

-Danse is a horrid mechanic. You'd think spending time in the BoS and dedicating time to auto repair with Ingram. Can't put a toaster together.

-But Power Armor is a piece of cake. Can't do much with pre-war tech, yet fixing power armor is as easy as making breakfast.

-Like all gen 3 synths, he loves Fancy Lad snack cakes. He'd share whatever box he'd find with the squires around the Prydwen.

-Scribe Haylen would volunteer to work alongside Danse on all his scouting missions.

-Danse found out Deacon was the one who stuck the dildo to his power armor. He made sure Deacon's wigs were the same bright purple color the very next day.

-Loves country music. When a traveling courier stops by and shares their western/country music, he actually dances.

-Has a heart for kids. Even Billy.

-Leg bouncing habit. Can't bounce his leg in power armor but as soon as he's out, his leg's jittering.

Deacon

-Deacon is in his late 40's.

-Did not lie about his wife and the University Point Deathclaws.

-Enjoys learning about Pre-war culture, spends free time with ghouls asking them about the past.

-Sole can fool him easily about prewar facts though.

-Has incredible luck with the pie claw game. Has won 8 times while traveling with Sole.

-Loves making silly bets. "I bet I can skip this plate across the lake at least 1 time." Proceeds to throw the plate at the water horizontally.

-Doesn't hate Danse. He will pull pranks on him though. Once stuck a dildo on the back of Danse's power armour.

-His hair grows quickly so he has to shave every day.

-Shaves his head, isn't bald. Shaved head works better with his pompadour wig.

-Doesn't like mutfruit. Says it's too acidic and hurts his gums.

-Has a rifle-shaped scar on his forearm. Will tell a different story for it every time.

-Once drank a dozen Nuka Cola Quantums on a dare. His pee glowed for a week.

-Tried going vegetarian once. ONCE. Found out being vegetarian means eating no meat or dairy products. Had to have Sole explain that, while gross, radroach could technically be considered meat.

-Is kinda clumsy. Always bumps into counter edges and stubs his toes on bits of debris.

-Doesn't lie about his family. And when Sole calls him family, promises to never lie about family again.

Gage

-Gage juggled skii balls to entertain the last Overboss, Colter.

-He enjoys small shooting competitions with MacCready, Sole, and X6. All four are sharp shooters.

-Fastest learner. Spent an entire week learning how to cook Sole's old recipes. He can cook them better than anyone with the exception of Codsworth.

-Hums when he works.

-Had a one night stand with Nisha. Ended so bad, he avoids that area of the park at all costs.

-Hates cats. Had an awful run in with a rad lion. Radiated Mountain Lion that tore a scar deep down his back.

-Does routine maintenance on the rides in the park. He knows how everything works there. From social hierarchy - to the intricacies of the Vault Tec: Among the Stars ride.

-His favourite flavour of Nuka Cola is Nuka Cola Victory. Rare to find but easily the best.

-Record farthest shot is a bean can from 410 meters.

-He's a lightweight. Only two beers and he's buzzed enough to sing along with Red-Eye.

-Will tell a different story every time if anyone asks about the eye patch.

Hancock

-Hancock is a history buff. Loves learning about colonial era civilization.

-Has spent days with Kent Connolly researching Silver Shroud information. He knows more about the Silver Shroud than any other companion.

-Has had a fling with every person in Goodneighbor at least once. Even Kleo.

-At least in a sexual way, he is extremely open minded. Welcomes new experiences and new information given anywhere anytime.

-Had a decent childhood with his brother. He remembers tending to the mutfruit trees with him and eating every other piece they picked.

-Adores pickles. Would sit and eat an entire jar of pickles just because he loves the cronch so much.

-All time favourite chem is Mentats. Loves making intellectual jokes while high as a kite.

-Does not know what a lot of pre-war expressions mean, but enjoys saying them and hearing them from Sole.

-Is a master at repairing clothing. How else does the frock stay in such good condition? He tends to it every night.

-As far as euphemisms for ghouls go, he likes "beef jerky".

Longfellow

-Longfellow met Hannah while out hunting. She blasted a trapper's head clean off, and he fell harder than the trapper's body.

-He spent his youth training, hoping to become a Brotherhood soldier one day.

-And then he met a vertibird full of them. They called Far Harbor a dump while gathering supplies there. Officially decided to cease all training.

-Managed to take down 17 Mirelurks in 3 minutes.

-Holds the record in Acadia for alcohol consumption. All records involving alcohol consumption.

-He's really fit? Longfellow could and has bench pressed Sole.

-He only did so because Hancock and MacCready wouldn't shut up about it.

-Loves singing old shanty songs and dancing with Sole. Only when no one else is around though.

-After the events at Far Harbor, he decides to go sailing along the coast. Wants to see the world more.

MacCready

-MacCready does brush his teeth. He brushes his teeth regularly. He started brushing after he left Little Lamplight. By that point the damage was already done.

-Lucy was the one to convince him to brush his teeth.

-He can't stand the smell of lavender. Lavender candles, lavender lotion, etc...makes him feel nauseous.

-He named his sniper rifle, "Lucy"

-Won't drink brahmin milk with cereal even to Sole's encouragement.

-Is very well read. Vault 87 had many educational textbooks hidden among the super mutants.

-MacCready was the longest lasting mayor in L.L. He was mayor for 6 years.

-He has no idea what television is and is afraid to ask any pre-wars about it.

-Wary of all ghouls, both feral and normal. He's not bias to non-ferals, but he is a little uncomfortable.

-Had a crush on Lone Wanderer when they first visited L.L. Mac told Joseph and he made fun of him.

Nick

-Nick has an oral fixation. Smokes out of habit and having the familiar feeling of a cigarette between his lips feeds into human nostalgia.

-His right hand is missing skin because he fidgets only his right. Whether it was picking at the fraying plastic or rubbing the fake skin raw.

-He lost the chunk of neck skin after Myrna accused him of working for the Institute. Tore off a chunk to prove he wasn't a perfect person or an infiltrator synth.

-Ellie was the first person in Diamond City to wholly accept Nick as he is. She asked to work with him as soon as he decided to stay.

-Piper and Nick have jam sessions where they have heavy debates about Diamond City law enforcement and criminal misuse of power in the capitalistic society of pre-war USA.

-Met Dogmeat under an overpass. He handed the dog a snack cake and scratched his head. They've been close pals ever since.

-Will "sleep" around Sole. He'll lay down and manually put himself into "sleep mode". Any unnecessary functions will shut down. He lets his thoughts take over. All Sole hears is the faintest fan whir.

Piper

-Piper plans Sole's 211th birthday. She goes all out, collects balloons, bakes several cakes with Codsworth, makes everyone attend and threatens anyone who would act up. "It's Blue's first birthday out here, you WILL behave!"

-Knows how to make mutfruit preserves, mutfruit pie, mutfruit jam and jelly. Makes it for Nat constantly.

-Has a notebook dedicated to little tidbits of info about Sole.

-Nat is exactly 8 years, 5 months, and 25 days younger than Piper.

-Piper has interviewed every person in Diamond City. Made a game of it with Nat at first, then she just kept going with it.

-Piper has awful shorthand. Almost as bad as Curie's shorthand. Still illegible.

-Piper's handwriting is so bad, Nat does the writing for the paper. Piper writes the final draft and Nat copies it, and sends it through the printing press.

-Despite bad handwriting, Piper is very eloquent. Can make a super mutant sound like good date idea or convince anyone how the mayor might actually be a synth.

-Her favourite of Sole's friends is Kent Connolly. Would gladly dress up and act out Silver Shroud episodes with him and Sole.

Preston

-Preston has insomnia. Cannot sleep well. Has had insomnia since Quincy.

-Can sleep well if he's sleeping beside someone.

-Has a box under his bed of little knick-knacks children have given him over the years. Can't bear to get rid of the kid's gifts.

-He actually likes all of Sole's friends. Even Strong.

-Hates coconut. Once found an Almond-Joy while scaving and couldn't finish it to save his life.

-All time favourite candy is Peanut Brittle. Hard to find but gnawing on the hard chunks is somewhat soothing to him.

-Loves back rubs. Giving and receiving but only from close friends or lovers.

-Once accidently drank a bottle of perfume. MacCready told him it was a bottle of fancy expensive wine.

-Sturges and Preston are the closest of friends, no less maybe more.

Strong

-Strong knows how to jump rope.

-But double dutch is a mystery.

-Before Sole, he only ate meat raw. Sole taught him how to cook it.

-Also lacks patience to cook, but slowly learning.

-Strong was created in Vault 87 after the bombs dropped but remembers nothing from being human.

-Doesn't understand bubblegum. Will always swallow it after a few seconds of chewing.

-Likes having poetry and plays read to him.

-Sleeps holding Sole or having Sole laying across his stomach.

-Loves fire. The smell, the feeling of heat against his hardened skin, the taste of charred meat, and watching the embers fly up and turn to ash.

-Strong can read, but chooses not to because super mutants discourage any educational behavior.

-Likes the sound of clacking keys on a terminal. He'll turn one on and mess around with the keyboard just to hear the different sounds each key makes.

-He can't decide if hand-to-hand combat is better than using guns.

X6-88

-X6 doesn't like using plasma. He thinks the plasma is less accurate.

-But laser weapons are his jam.

-Spends excessive amount of time augmenting his weapon.

-If Sole helped, he would be "happy". Would never say it, but a tiny smirk would pop up on his face for half a second.

-Will collect Fancy Lad Snack Cakes. Hoards them in his bedroom in Sanctuary and in the Institute.

-Sole found his stash and X6 blushed for the first time when they confronted him.

-He called Sole "Mom" instead of Ma'am once. She won't let him live it down.

-He called Sole "Dad" after hearing Shaun call him "Dad" all day. He won't let him live it down.

-Actually likes kids. Won't show emotions, get down to their level, or speak to kids. But he doesn't hate children.

-Especially likes synth Shaun. He taught synth Shaun how to use a laser pistol. Shaun found out and put X6 on probation for a month.

Bonus Vault Tec Rep and Kent Connolly under the cut.

Vault Tec Rep

-Rep spent a couple decades learning how to draw. Loves drawing from life. Mostly draws people. Occasionally draws ferals, mutants, and various animals.

-Was engaged before the war, lasted about 2 years before she died of cancer.

-His favorite food was and still is a well grilled medium rare steak.

-A total neat freak. Every space he uses as a homestead has to be thoroughly cleaned of any bacteria, ticks, dust, dirt, radiation residue, etc

-Teased in school for his red hair. "Rusty" was his least favorite nickname.

-He's extremely susceptible to pet names. Doesn't have to be anything sexual or romantic, just pet names. He blushes like a starstruck starlet.

-Loves love. Romance and old-timey corny love stories. He like to woo his partner. Flowers, chocolate, dancing, movie dates, hand written poems, you name it.

-He misses his old red hair. Years of being a brunette and he's a little bitter about his hair.

-Least favourite part of The Wasteland is amount of bodies he sees on a daily basis. He saw about zero bodies a day on average before the war. Even in Goodneighbor, the average has risen to about 4 bodies a week.

-Favourite part of The Wasteland is the ability to just go anywhere. After realizing he didn't have any obligation to stay any specific place, he just traveled around for a few decades.

-His father worked for Vault-Tec, and when he graduated high school, he was given a job immediately.

-Didn't hate it. Didn't love it at first, but he had a real knack for selling.

-He never had an office in Boston HQ. He got the van, and got a sweet bonus for being top salesman, but never his own office.

-Despite being top salesman, he was only allowed on the first and second floors. He didn't find out till after the bombs dropped that the basement and third floor up had the plans for the various vaults in the area.

-He can't apologize enough to Sole. After thinking on it and checking out vault 111 by himself, he truly feels sorry for what happened.

-Sole gets him a set of steak knives for Christmas. They're homemade by Sole. They tell him he's earned far more than a knife set, but if that's what he's pining for...

-He treasures it so much, he rarely uses them. Just before he leaves for work in the morning, he checks them over and admires them.

-He and Sole have spent days just telling each other pre war stories. He almost knows more about Sole than Piper does. And he's a little proud of that fact.

-He gets along best with, of all people, Deacon. Good sense of humour and always interested in pre-war info.

-Second best is Piper. A nice lady who snoops too much, but does treat everyone with respect and tries to remain unbiased.

Kent Connolly

-Kent was 23 when the bombs dropped.

-He was sleeping in on the Saturday morning when he heard the air raid sirens.

-Hid in his house's basement till the sirens stopped.

-And then the radiation sickness took over.

-It took him about 3 months to turn ghoulish. Quicker than most.

-He dislikes Goodneighbor - the town as a whole. The people are fine, the resources are serviceable, and the safety assured is nice. But he hates how back alley it feels.

-Misses his family the most. They weren't the best, but they made him feel loved and important.

-Speaking of which, Kent had a huge family. I'm talking brothers, sisters, cousins for days, aunts, uncles...he remembers family reunions as huge gatherings chock full of food and kids running amuck.

-Maybe, just maybe, he enjoys seeing Sole all dressed like Shroud a little too much. He's a big fan.

-Once spent 4 grand on a mint condition Issue no. 3 Silver Shroud comic just to find out it was a forgery. Never got that refund. :(

-Writes really well. But only writes Silver Shroud fanfiction. Piper almost convinced him to help write an article about how crime differed before the war and after the war. But he turned her down.

-Nick has agreed to dress up as Shroud if Sole dresses up like Grognak or Mistress of Mystery. But only if Sole dresses up too.

-Irma refers to him as her son. Amari will not say the same, but she also doesn't protest.

-He used to work in comic book shop. (Of course he did.)

-He writes self insert Silver Shroud fanfiction all the time. After the events at the hospital with Sinjin, the Shroud in his fanfictions suddenly start using Sole's pronouns and is described as physically similar as Sole.

494 notes · View notes

wrathofthestag · 3 years

Text

Mexican Rice

Okay, I had a few people message me asking how I made my rice. This recipe is pretty easy. Here we go!

Back in 1910, in Mexico City, my grandmother--JUST KIDDING. Here’s the recipe, y’all...

You’ll need:

one cup of long grain rice

half a can of “Spanish” style tomato sauce

1 tsp of garlic powder

1/2 tsp of salt

1 tbsp of vegetable or canola oil or a little more. Honestly, I eyeball the oil. Just don’t add too much, the rice will be sticky.

1 Knorr chicken bouillon cube (or vegetable cube if you don’t eat meat).

Optional:

a handful of cilantro

one fresh jalapeño

a can of mixed vegetables or corn

Some people like cumin in their rice, I do not. Feel free to add 1 tsp of cumin if you're into it.

Add the oil to a frying pan, and when it’s glistening that means its hot enough for the rice. Add the rice, stir frequently and fry until the rice is just toasty, not burnt. Meanwhile, heat 1 and 3/4 cups of water with one Knorr chicken bouillon cube in the microwave until hot (this is optional because you can just pour the water and cube directly into the rice but I like to think this speeds up the process). Stir well so the cube dissolves. Once the rice is fried enough (you don't want it to burn) add the garlic powder and salt to the rice. Stir well again. Add half of an 8 oz. can of tomato sauce, use a "Spanish style" like La Preferida or Iberia. (I mean, I guess Goya if that's all you can find, but fuck Goya.) It will sizzle a lot. Stir well as it will be clumpy.

Add the water. Again, it will sizzle a lot. Stir really well to de-clump and it will probably start boiling right away. Add the cilantro (optional), no need to chop it just toss it in, and cover. Cook for 25 minutes on low heat. Don't peek. At 25 minutes, take a peek. The water should be gone and the rice will be moist and ready. If it still looks really wet, cover and cook for 3-5 more minutes. Once it's done, fluff it up with a fork and serve.

Another optional step, you can also toss a whole fresh jalapeño in when you add the cilantro. Don't cut it, just let it sit there and it will give it a nice spice. If you're adding mixed veggies, add them before the cilantro.

Let me know how it turns out! There are a lot of recipes out there, but this is how I make it and how my mom made it.

#mexican rice #wrath IRL

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honeybeelullaby · 2 years

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#lime and pistachio cake #food #recipes #*#recipe is in spanish but i think it's easy enough :)

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jobean12-blog · 4 years

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Top Shelf: Chapter 18- Inscribed with Love (and a sprinkle of Sugar)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Bookshop/Bartender/Baking AU)

Word Count: 1,946

Summary: The bookshop is doing great and your exhausted from it all, but ready to take the next step.

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Hope you’re all doing wonderfully! So I think there will only be two more chapters left. I can’t believe it and I cannot thank you enough for your continued love and support. You’re the reason I keep this up. The restaurant they go to in this chapter is called Tia Pol (so yum) and you can check it out here. Thank you all for reading! Much love always ❤❤❤

Warnings: Soft fluffy, happy fluff, exciting news and events, lots of yay :)

Top Shelf Masterlist

Bucky gives you one last glance before he walks toward the door, smiling at the crowd while he unlocks it. A loud cheer erupts from outside and you squeal at your position behind the counter. Everyone files in, the happy exclamations over the new space ringing out over the noise of footsteps. Nat and Peggy make a beeline for you, jumping up and down and talking a mile a minute. They’ve seen the space throughout the renovations, but you didn’t let anyone see the final product until now.

You see Grandma Betty pull Bucky down for a hug. They embrace for a long time and when she releases him, he wipes at his eyes while she blots her own with a tissue. At the same time, they turn and look your way, smiling brightly as you wave. Bucky brings her to you and then walks back to the door to greet some newcomers.

She reaches over the counter and takes your hands, “this is more than I ever could have hoped for. “It’s so beautiful. I’m so proud of you both and so very happy. James would be in love.” The tears that threatened to fall only moments ago are now running hot down your cheeks. You hastily wipe them away and lean over to hug her. “Thank you. Nothing makes me happier than to know you’re happy.”

Gently patting your back, she releases you, holding her hand over your cheek. “Ok, now that we’ve had a good cry, let’s eat!” With a twinkle in your eye you take a plate and put a piece of everything you have on it. “Let me know what you think about all of it. I need to know what’s good enough to keep!” She shuffles off with a full plate and happy smile and you look up to see a grinning Steve and Sam.

“Hey guys! What can I getcha?!” Sam’s eyebrow shoots up and he checks out the display. Steve slaps his shoulder and says, “one of everything of course!” Sam pipes up quick, “make that two!” You fill their plates and yell at them to share with Nat and Peggy as they walk away. The rest of the day goes by in a flash, a steady stream of customers coming in the whole time.

Tony stops in at the end of the day and from the look on his face you can tell he’s happy. “Well, look at you kids! The desserts are almost gone, most tables are full and you both look exhausted. Successful first day I take it?” You lean your head on Bucky’s shoulder and deflate, “you can say that again. I saved you some goodies!”

Handing him the plate you follow him to one of the few empty seats and take a small break. It isn’t long before Bucky has to make some more coffee and you have a couple asking for some pumpkin bread to go. Tony finishes his dessert and praises your baking before heading out, promising to come back with Pepper later in the week.

When Bucky finally turns the open sign over to closed it’s after 8pm and you’re dead on your feet. “I can’t wait to shower! I smell like a pumpkin doused in sweaty cinnamon.” Bucky’s face contorts into a perplexed look before he bursts out laughing, running over to smell you. “Yep. Totally sweaty cinnamon pumpkin. Deeeeelicious!”

Taking off your apron and throwing it at his face you head to the back to grab your stuff. “I’m going home to shower! You’re mean.” Bucky quickly grabs you around the waist and pulls you in close. “Can I come?” Trying and failing to resist his charm you shake your head no. He pouts, kissing you before saying, “please? I’ll wash your hair!” Your face lights up and you shoo him off to get his backpack.

The whole walk home you’re riding the last bits of energy from the day, just barely making it up the steps and into your apartment. You shed your clothes by the door and rush into the bathroom, turning the water on hot and stepping under the soothing stream. Bucky slides in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest. He starts massaging the shampoo into your hair and you slump against him, moaning under the pressure of his fingertips. “Aren’t you glad you let me come home with you.”

Humming through the magic of his hands you turn in his arms, carefully cracking an eye open to avoid the shampoo. “You knew I was gonna let you come; I hate the nights we spend apart.” He pushes the hair from your face and continues gently rubbing his fingers over your scalp. “Me too, baby. In fact, why do we spend any nights apart?”

You lean your head back and let the water wash away the soap, handing him the conditioner. “I don’t know actually. Other than the fact that neither of our apartments are that big and we don’t have all our stuff at each place.” He smooths the conditioner through your hair and twists it around his fingers, using it to tug you close. “Why don’t we put all our stuff in one bigger place?”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” With one step he has your back against the cool tiles, his wet body flush to yours, “yes, that’s exactly what I’m asking.” You trace your finger over his lips, kissing off the droplets of water, “I’d love to be your roommate.” He gives you the biggest smile you’ve seen all day and rests his forehead to yours. “I love you.” You pour those same words back in a kiss, suddenly feeling like getting dirty before you finish getting clean.

The rest of the week goes by just as fast as Monday and by the time Friday rolls around, Bucky falls face first onto the couch and groans into the pillow, “thank god Sam gave me the night off.” You land on top of him with barely an oof and reach around for the remote. “It’s under my legs I think,” Bucky’s muffled voices says from the pillow. “Pffft forget it. Maybe we should keep looking for apartments.”

Bucky’s hand shoots up and he gives you a thumbs up, “ok babe, let’s do it.” Neither of you move to get up. “You have to get up y/n.” You curl up and take the blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over you both just as Bucky shifts onto his side and lets you fall into the space between him and the couch cushions. Snuggling up in his arms you rest your head on his chest and promptly fall asleep.

Early Winter (couple of months later) …

“Oh man, what is that amazing smell!” Bucky’s words float through the sugar and spice scented air before he even has the door closed to your new apartment. “What are you making baby doll?” He slides up behind you and pulls you against his chest, kissing your neck and cheek in greeting. “Hi baby. I’m working on that new gingerbread cookie recipe. They are great for making fun Holiday shapes and easy to decorate! Wanna try?”

He opens his mouth as an answer, and you pop a gingerbread man head in. “Wow. This guy tastes delicious!” You giggle and clap your hands together happily, getting back to rolling out more dough. “How was everything at the shop today?” you ask, while working to get the right thickness for the dough. “Great. Everyone who came in said they’re really looking forward to the new desserts you have planned. I still can’t believe how well it’s all going. Who knew coffee and cake is all we needed to make people want to buy books?”

Handing him the rest of the gingerbread man’s body you say, “I know. Sometimes I can’t believe it either. We’ve been so busy I still haven’t finished unpacking the last of the boxes!” Turning his way with the roller in hand you give him a look sweeter than the cookie. “Do you think you could take a weekend off from the bar soon and maybe we could finish the unpacking and hanging pictures and even go on a date?”

Bucky eyes the rolling pin in your hand and you realize you’re standing there looking like you might knock him over the head with it if he’s says no. You both burst out laughing and he takes it from your hands. “Yes. I can definitely do that. Just don’t threaten me with a rolling pin anymore!” With a kiss to his lips you quietly say, “if you think that was threatening, you haven’t seen anything yet!”

You finally get your weekend off a couple of weeks later and it’s just what you both needed. The boxes get emptied and the pictures get hung and Saturday night finds you dressed up and out at one of your favorite Spanish restaurants Tia Pol. “Try this Buck, it’s amazing.” Holding the fork up he takes a bite, closing his eyes and humming at the delicious taste. “Oh man, you’re right, so good!”

“I have a bridesmaid dress fitting next week, I’m so happy Peggy let us pick our own dresses!” A sly smile grows over Bucky’s face. “I can’t wait to see you in it, what does it look like?” You wave a dismissive hand, “oh you’ll just have to wait! And don’t you guys have to do your tux fitting soon?” Bucky nods through a mouthful, “yup, couple of weeks.”

“I can’t believe it’s only two months away! This will definitely be a memorable Valentine’s Day!” Bucky takes a drink of wine, eyeing you over the glass. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He takes your hand and runs his thumb over your knuckles, smiling softly. “I’m looking forward to it. I’m just happy I get to spend it with you.” He lifts your hand and kisses it, making you giggle. “Me too. It’s going to be amazing.”

Valentine’s Day/Steve and Peggy’s Wedding…

“Peggy, I…you look perfect, just perfect!” You try to get the words out without letting the tears fall but it’s no use, carefully blotting your eyes in the hopes of not ruining your make up. Peggy points a stern finger your way. “If you make me cry again, I’ll stab you!” Nat giggles and fixes Peggy’s veil, holding back her own tears. “It’s time ladies,” the bridal attendant says softly, helping the three of you line up. Nat walks out first, and you watch as the smile spreads across her face the moment her foot hits the runner.

You wait for the attendant to motion for you to go and begin taking the small steps out of the room. You haven’t seen Bucky all day and you can’t wait. You take that first step into the aisle and search the front, his gaze instantly finding yours as you make you way to him. Your eyes never leave his and your cheeks hurt from smiling. You’re so overwhelmed with happiness, for your friends, for you and Bucky and you just want to cry again.

His eyes tell you everything as you continue to stare at each other from across the altar. He mouths, “I love you,” and you do the same back, letting out a deep breath to quell the tears. The bridal march starts and you reluctantly look away, your eyes now focused on Steve who looks so completely in love that you feel the first tear run down you cheek, this moment one you will never forget.

@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @bugsbucky @book-dragon-13 @buckys-henley @bucky-on-my-mind @buckys-broody-muffin @buckys-minty-breath @breezy1415 @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hawksmagnolia @hailmary-yramliah @itsunclebucky @itsunclebucky @imgaril-lindru @ikaris-whore @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @lorilane33 @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @loricameback @mushyjellybeans @marvelandotherfandomimagines @marvelgirl7 @nano--raptor @nerdypinupcrystal @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @scarletsoldierrr @the-wayward-robot @tuiccim @yansi1923 @flyawaybay @throwmyheartawayagain @amandatar-06 @nd1998sc @captainchrisstan @vherriepie @godofplumsandthunder @when-the-hell-is-bucky @fire-flv @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @irishflutiegirl @rinthehufflepuff @moonybarnes @nordlysinthewoods @lauratang @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @buchanansebba @emilylyoness @addikted-2-dopamine @lady-pswrld @lookiamtrying @pinkdiamond1016 @lokilvrr @mishaandthebrits @hopefuldreamers-world @rebekahdawkins

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trashcankitty12 · 3 years

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Stella Headcanons:

You know her. You love her.

She’s bubbly, she’s fun. (And she’s pretty funny.)

She’s Princess Stella Sol of Solaria.

(These headcanons are all in relation to my ‘main verse’, which is the New Company of Light/Balance Verse. And it can also translate into my Left verse.)

Under the cut because it’s long.

About Stella:

-Her fear of heights comes from a major fall she took as a child off of her grandfather’s pet dragon. (He was teaching her how to ride and… She wasn’t holding onto it well enough and down she went.)

-Stella is fluent in nearly 56 of the Magical Dimensions languages. (She was to stick to the languages spoken by the realms who interacted most with Solaria.)

-After meeting Bloom and spending a little time on Earth, Stella is also trying to learn a few of the Earth’s languages. (She’s mastered English and Spanish, but she’s still working on French and Russian.)

-She loves sweets. (And food in general. But considering she’s Solarian, that’s to be expected. They tend to eat more than most people in the Magical Dimension.)

-Stella may or may not glow in the dark. (It’s something she can control and she has to be focused to do it. She inherited that gift from her mother.)

-Stella’s mother was religious and has a close relationship to the Moons, while her father, despite being so close in relationship to the Suns of Solaria, isn’t religious. Stella personally has mixed feelings on religion. She likes the idea of spirituality and having a higher power to rely on, but organized religion makes her heart hurt. (They tend to talk down about those who don’t follow a ‘certain’ way of life, which to Stella isn’t a cool thing to do, unless, of course, the other people are actually hurting someone else.)

-She was almost a big sister. Her mother had been pregnant when she was seven. (They don’t ever talk about it. And, as an adult, Stella can see where this was a turning point for her parents and their relationship. Her mother just wasn’t quite the same after losing Diana.)

-Stella is a dog person and was so happy when she finally got a puppy for her birthday one year. (The dog was her best friend and her main confidant.) Unfortunately, Stella’s dog only made it to four years old. (It had an illness that not even magic could fix.)

-Stella hasn’t been able to stomach the thought of another dog since. (However, Brandon may or may not offer for them to get a dog later on. You know, as their “first child”.)

-Stella can spot patterns without trying. It’s so ingrained in her after being around fashion, and the practical applications of pattern spotting have made her life so much easier.

-Here’s the thing about Stella… She’s somewhat dyslexic. Words and reading do not come easily to her. On the flip side, Stella can give one hellova speech. Her charisma and charm make her a natural at hyping up a crowd.

-Stella had a fairy godmother until she was 13. An elderly woman named Glinda. Glinda helped Stella with her shyness and in her first fashion attempts. And Glinda was the one who helped Stella gain her magic winx the first time with encouragement and confidence. (After all, how else should a future queen bring out her power?)

-After gaining her wings, her father gifted her the Ring of Solaria. It was done in a ceremony to the Suns and Moons of Solaria and the Ring had to choose Stella just as it had Radius and their family before them. Once Stella and the Ring bonded, she shifted for the first time in public to show off her wings and magic. Her parents couldn’t have been prouder.

-She went to a private school on Solaria for her elementary and middle school education years, but she was somewhat isolated due to being the Princess of Solaria (making the other kids judge her ahead of time as some sort of prim and proper prep they didn’t want around) and due to some of her ‘uncool’ hobbies.

-(Those uncool hobbies? Stella is actually into comics and superheroes, but until meeting the rest of the Winx, she wasn’t interested in sharing that side of herself. Solarian Comics actually helped Stella with reading because of their writing structure. Stella is also a fan of learning cultures and wanting to see what benefits other places and if it could be replicated to help Solaria. And Stella was kind of a… Horse girl. She spent many, many, many summers and school holidays at her maternal uncle’s horse ranch in the Western Spaces of Solaria.)

-Stella tends to use her solar powers more than her lunar ones. It’s not because she doesn’t feel close to her mother or to her mother’s family, it’s just a little more difficult for her tap into that part of her magic. (Solar magic is easy and tapped into by thinking of warm and splendid times. Lunar magic requires a bit more… Reflection. And Stella doesn’t like having to think too long about things. Not because she can’t, but because if she starts to really think about things, she tends to overthink them which leads her down a dark rabbit hole.)

-Stella’s best friend growing up was Nova Rinae, despite being two years older than the other girl. Nova’s mother is the head of Luna’s guard, and Nova was often in the palace. (Making her one of the few children always around. And because she shared several of Stella’s interests, they clicked rather quickly.)

-(Her parents also encourage this friendship as it’s important to them for Stella to be close to those who may serve alongside her when its time for her to become queen. Friendships can be turned into unwavering loyalty, and that can mean life or death in certain situations.)

-Before she ever got her magic, Stella’s parents thought she may end up being the ‘New Host’ for the Light Dragon. (Bloom was never found, which meant no one could say for certain what happened to the Light Dragon, other than it had to be alive still. Otherwise the Balance would have been off.)

-Because of their thoughts on her having the Light Dragon, Stella was taught basic hand-to-hand skills as a child and was instructed to be wary of “golden eyes” in the shadows. She was also to learn Solaria’s history as well as Domino’s. (Though Stella mostly paid attention to how the two worlds overlapped instead of their separate histories.)

-Stella actually knew Layla, Sky, and Diaspro as children. But because so much can change from being five years old to being 15/16, she didn't recognize them when they met again. (They had all been at a major conference for the realms and while their parents ‘talked shop’, they went to play. It was their first and last time together like that until years later.)

-Despite being a princess, Stella tends to be a bit messy. At least, as far as her room itself. Her workspaces (wardrobe and vanity and tailoring areas) are the most well-kept areas in her care. (She likes to work in clean spaces… But in her room, the space where she lives, she likes it to look lived in.)

-Stella originally got into fashion at about 10 years old in an attempt to get closer to her mother. Her mother always had work to do as a queen, and for her off-time, she went to fashion shows (which in a way, were also work, because as a queen she’s expected to be aware of trends and present herself in a certain way). So to spend more time with her mother, Stella started having an interest in fashion. (Which quickly became a hobby she loved when she found the different ways she could express herself with fashion.)

-In a bid to get closer to her father, Stella took a major interest in cooking. (Her father can bake. He’s messy at it, but by the Dragons do his pastries and cookies taste of heaven.) Granted, Stella didn’t inherit the baking skill, but she can recite recipes and judge pastries and baked goods like its her job. (And for some of Solaria’s festivals, it is.)

-Have I mentioned she’s an expert equestrian in the Solarian Rodeo? Her go-to is barrel racing and square-dancing competitions, and she’s even dipped her toes into riding the bronco and in cattle roping.

-Stella has far-sightedness. She can see things far away, but things up close are blurred. She used to wear glasses, but after elementary school, she swapped to contacts. (However she does still wear glasses and keeps them close by just in case. They’re a stylish silver-blue and not quite thick-framed.)

-Stella has formal training in ballroom dancing. (Her favorite is the Eraklyon Tango. Or at least, it has been for the past few years. Wonder why…?)

-Stella also has a minor fear of spiders. (It’s not really a fear either… More like a squick. She doesn’t like them, but she doesn’t mind them being around if she doesn’t have to see them. It’s because one of her school teachers thought a great Life Lesson would be for the class to witness his pet tarantula eat a live meal. Not fun for little Stella.)

(Not fun for him either, once the parents got a hold of him…)

-Stella lied about what happened during her ‘real’ first year at Alfea. She honestly did blow up the Potion’s Lab… But it wasn’t because she was researching color theories…

-Just before Stella was meant to leave for Alfea, like a week or two before, she found out from Nova, NOVA, that her parents were getting a divorce. Luna and Radius never told her. Her friend told her.

-Stella didn’t want to leave after that, afraid that if she was gone, she couldn’t help them patch things up. (She truly believed they could work this out. She just needed to be there. She needed them to see her and remember why they fell in love.)

-They dropped Stella off, but still didn’t discuss or leave room to discuss the divorce. (Stella didn’t want to let them know she knew because she didn’t want Nova in trouble for listening in on their mothers’ conversations.)

-Which led to a panicked Stella trying desperately to pretend to be okay while in the presence of the others. (She’s a princess, she can’t show despair. Especially without reason.)

-Stella was angry that her parents still hadn’t talked to her and that they had sent her away. She was feeling left out and scared and confused. They were in love. Right?!

-So she started doing small things around Alfea to try and get her suspended. Not expelled, just suspended. (She needed time at home, before the holidays.)

-She verbally attacked other Alfea students, playing up the pompous princess act. No luck. She mocked Palladium. No luck. She even cut classes. No luck. So as a last resort, without having to go to Cloud Tower and stir trouble up there, was to mess around in the potion’s lab. It worked… Too well.

-She was expelled and sent back to Solaria. Her parents were upset with her, and disappointed (which was the worst ever for Stella who really wanted their approval in everything). Stella broke down and finally told them that she knew and that she didn’t want her family to break apart. That she was scared and shaken and angry. Angry that they could pretend so well that everything was fine when it obviously wasn’t.

-Luna and Radius decided to try a form of family counseling to try and help Stella. (They hated seeing their daughter so upset, but they knew in the long run that staying together would have damaged her further. She didn’t need to grow up with constant arguing and avoiding each other, that wasn’t a love story they wanted her to follow.)

-(They also explained the situation to Faragonda and promised to pay for the damages. Faragonda allowed Stella to return within the next school year if her progress with the counselor went well.)

-Stella, even though still upset with her parents’ divorce, was a bit more accepting of it after taking the school year to focus on them as a family. (Even one that was split.)

-Stella does have hope they’ll reunite, but she understands a bit more now why they split up. (And even though they are in separate palaces, Luna taking residence in the Lunar Sections now, she knows they love her very much.)

#winx club #winx club headcanons #stella headcanons #winx club stella #Princess Stella of Solaria #ray of sunshine #little sunburst

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thethistlegirlwrites · 3 years

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Comfortember day 18 (hot cocoa)

Have I written multiple variations on characters making hot cocoa (specifically the Mexican version) in my novel ‘verse? Yes. Did I write another one? YES. Because there can never be too much hot chocolate for these OCs!

It's been a rough week. Robin's nursing the last of a nasty black eye, Kira has ten stitches and what promises to be an impressive new scar, and Cody has a mild concussion. John's on crutches with his left leg in a boot, and since the stairs to his apartment aren't all that easy to navigate at the moment, he's been staying at Rowan House until his ankle heals enough to be usable again. Hairline fractures are better than fully broken bones, but he's still not supposed to be supporting weight with it.

He's currently crashed on the couch with one puppy and two cats. He claims he's picking the sticky burrs out of their fur ONLY as a favor to Robin, but Robin can hear him talking to them when he thinks he's not being overheard, calling them all sorts of adorable pet names in Spanish and trying to get the puppy to sit.

Robin is in the kitchen, preparing to reheat the shredded spicy pork John cooked a couple days ago, sitting on a chair for most of his own work and telling Robin how to manage the parts he wasn't able to do. It's the best Robin's done at cooking a meal so far.

The windows are open, and a chilly breeze blows in, catching the edges of Robin's hair and raising goosebumps on his arms. He shivers slightly and then decides to set the pork aside and try making something else at the moment.

He digs out the ingredients and tries to remember how much of each John puts in the mix. He always claims it's not an exact science and that the recipe can be varied for individual taste, but he wants to make it the way John likes.

He tastes the mixture a dozen times while he's stirring it on the stove. He adds more chili powder and another half a bar of dark chocolate, John likes his cocoa thick enough that the spoon practically stands up in it.

Finally, when the steam smells right, Robin pulls the saucepan off the stove and fills two mugs, sprinkling a little cinnamon on top of the whole thing and carrying them to the coffee table.

John is almost asleep, the puppy sprawled on his chest and the cats perched on the back of the couch on either side of his head. But he blinks and sits up a little straighter when Robin sits down beside him.

"You made cocoa?"

"You keep saying, 'Life is short, eat dessert first'. Sometimes I actually listen to your advice." Robin chuckles. He waits, watching John take a sip. "Did I do it right?"

"Are you kidding? It's perfect," John says, and Robin smiles, taking a sip of his own mug as well.

#comfortember #magic & silver #john stoker #angus robinson

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keelywolfe · 4 years

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Drabble: Cheap Thrills (baon)

Summary: Stretch can get a lot of entertainment out of a thrift store find.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch loved to pick up old books at the thrift shop. There were so many gems that might get lost at a traditional bookstore, like his trusty copy of ‘How to Teach Spanish to Dogs.’

Romance novels were cheap and plentiful, and he got them by bagful for Blue, who never much seemed interested in finding his own romance but loved reading about others. Old reference books filled with outdated information that was still interesting to read about, seeing what people used to believe, until science or society proved them wrong.

Then there were specialty finds.

Stretch wasn’t even two steps through the front door before he held up his prize, announcing happily, “look what i found!”

Edge barely looked up from his laptop, “If it has even one clown on it—"

“No clowns.” That was a prize he’d be sure to stash behind the shower curtain for maximum effect.

For once Stretch didn’t mind Edge working a little overtime at home. Kept him off his feet, gave all those healing juices a chance to settle in.

But a little distraction never hurt. Stretch flopped on the sofa and settled his head right into Edge’s lap, ignoring his exasperated sigh as he held out the book he’d found.

The cover was old and stained, but the title was still readable, ‘The Congregational Cook Book’ and in small letters beneath that, ‘edited by the ladies’ aid society of the First Congregational Church of Ebott, 1915.’

He knew his baby well. As soon as Edge stopped glaring an actually looked at the book, a flicker of interest made an appearance. He set his laptop on the coffee table, ignoring Stretch’s exaggerated sputters of suffocation as his forward lean threatened to smother him with Edge’s shirt, then took the book.

“A cookbook?”

“a really old cookbook!” Stretch enthused, “like, a century old. i thought maybe you’d like to try one it out. See how it compares to the youtube generation of cooking.”

“That does sound interesting,” Edge flipped through the book, reading aloud, “Salmon omelet, no, thank you, green tomato pickles, hot water gingerbread, hm, apple tarts. I do have apples, how does that sound?”

“baby, anything you make sounds like mana from heaven.” And at Edge’s raised brow bone, Stretch admitted, “except risotto, okay, but that’s less you than a general dislike of the genre.”

Edge nudged Stretch off his lap and stood, heading into the kitchen with book in hand. Normally, Stretch would’ve tossed him a fair thee well and let him get to it, but this time, he followed Edge through the swinging door. He was sort of curious if there were any differences in a recipe from a hundred years ago to now, and hey, science, right?

Not that he planned on helping with the cooking process, he was here strictly as an observer, and he plopped down into one of the chairs that surrounded their ‘dining room table’, “so, how much longer are we eating at the card table?”

“Not long,” Edge retrieved a large bowl from under the counter and a set of measuring cups from the cupboard before tying on an apron. “I’m working on a plan for our new kitchen layout. As soon as it’s done, I’ll have the builders get started on it.”

“uh huh, no rush, i was only curious,” Stretch propped his chin on one hand. “you do have a lot on your plate right now, babe. and there’s your whole mental health assessment you still need done.”

Really, it was sort of impressive how much Stretch could glean from slightest change in his husband’s expression. A normal person would think there was no change, but Stretch was good with languages, spent years learning Edge-ese. He knew a twist of distaste when it saw it, “Yes. There is that.”

Any other comment about it was effectively blocked by Edge’s renewed focus on the cookbook, reading the recipe aloud beneath his breath. His brow bone slowly furrowed, concentration replaced with dismay. Which…it was a cookbook, not a grimoire of early twentieth century curses. Wasn’t it?

“babe?” Stretch asked cautiously, “what is it?”

“What kind of recipe is this!” Edge exclaimed. He picked up the book and read aloud, “Eggs, oil, fresh butter or lard, sugar, baking powder, as much flour as it needs. Must be soft as an earlobe, thicker than cake.”

“uh…” Stretch scratched at the back of his skull. “and?”

“That's it. That's the entire recipe. There’s no measurements, no directions, no temperature for baking!” He slapped the book back down on the counter-top. “There are no apples listed! How can this be a recipe for apple tarts without apples? How in the name of the unknown am I supposed to gauge the softness of an earlobe when I don’t have ears?”

All great questions, except Stretch was in possession of exactly zero answers. “does seem a little speciest against those of us without earlobes.”

Edge glared at the cookbook as if by his will alone answers to his questions would come, which was why Stretch was a little surprised when Edge said abruptly, "Let me see your phone."

"yeah, sure," Stretch said, slowly handing it over. Not like he had any secrets or anything and while Edge might change his own passwords at least once a month for security reasons, he’d been using the first 6 digits of Pi since he got the phone. “why?”

“Because I left mine in the living room.” Edge tapped the screen impatiently holding it out as it began dialing out over speakerphone.

A sleepy voice answered, "'lo? Wassup, Boney Marony. "

"Jeff,” Edge said, “I’m afraid you’ll have to engage in wordplay with my husband later. Right now, I need you to come over so I can feel your ears."

A long moment of silence. "That’s very specific. Okay, I'll bite, give me five."

It was more like ten minutes, with Edge sitting impatiently across from Stretch, who was engaged in a furious game of Words With Friends on his newly retrieved phone. Until the light knock came on the front door followed by Jeff shambling into the kitchen. He looked like they’d woken him from a nap, his hair was smashed flat on one side and sticking up on the other. He scratched at his t-shirt covered belly and yawned out, "You know, before I met you guys, I never got calls like this."

“sounds to me like you needed a little more excitement in your life,” Stretch said cheerily.

Edge didn’t bother with a greeting. He limped determinedly over, stripping off his gloves as he went, and without warning began to vigorously fondle Jeff’s earlobes. Jeff squeaked out a mousy sound, his eyes wide as golf balls as he stared up at Edge.

Well. Wasn’t like Andy didn’t know why he was here.

“easy, babe,” Stretch winced, “he might need a little foreplay before you go right for the lobes.”

“I’m checking his ears, not his testicles,” Edge said curtly, even as he leaned down to peer closely at the ears in question.

That remark made Stretch and Jeff speak in unison,

“holy shit, wow, just tossing that out there, huh.”

“Okay, I’m good to help a friend out, but I am drawing the line at ball grabbing.”

Edge ignored them both. He let Jeff go and limped back to his gathered ingredients, already starting to measure them into the bowl, “Thank you, Jeff, that will be all.”

Welp, that sounded like a dismissal. Stretch climbed to his feet, jerking his head towards the door. “c’mon, andy, we can take in a flick while you’re here, if you want.”

Jeff was still a little wobbly, gingerly reaching up to touch one of his well-inspected ears as he followed Stretch out, “Do I want to know what that was all about?”

Stretch shrugged, “cooking.”

“Cooking,” Jeff repeated. He mouthed it again, soundlessly, then shook his head. “I don’t even think I want to know, plausible deniability is probably better. So, he asked for me to help, why?”

“well, how many other humans does edge know that he can call up and ask?” Stretch asked reasonably. He picked up the remote and turned on Netflix. “and don’t say your honey because we both know he’d just hang up, especially without having the proper forms filled out first.”

“Glad to be the go-to guy for illicit cooking-related bodily inspections.” Jeff joined Stretch on the sofa, settling in. “Classic Twilight Zone, huh? Good choice.”

The first episode was mostly over by the time Edge came out with a tray with a half-dozen golden-brown treats that brimmed with appley goodness. Stretch and Jeff dug in, mumbling thank you’s around their mouthfuls and Stretch was already on his second one when he noticed Edge was scribbling notes. He chewed and swallowed his current bite and asked, “what are you doing?”

“Gauging your reactions,” Edge said, still writing, “I kept a close track of the ingredient measurements that I used so that I can make changes for the second batch. Are they too dry? Is the pastry tough?”

“Tastes fine to me,” Jeff said around his mouthful.

“Crisp? Chewy? Is there enough spice?” Edge persisted. The two of them did their best to answer him around bites and finally, Edge made a satisfied sound and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Huh,” Jeff snagged another tart. “How many batches you think he’s gonna make?”

Stretch shrugged, “i do my experiments and he does his.”

“His taste better.”

“my science isn’t the kind you lick.”

“So far it hasn’t involved you groping my ears, either,” Jeff took a bite and groaned around it, “Worth it, man, but the balls are still off-limits.”

“sounds reasonable.” Stretch snagged the last tart and sank back to watch the pig-faced doctor demanding a needle to sedate his patient, happily waiting to review batch number two.

Hey, he got a snack and a show, all for the price of a thrift store book. Now all he needed to do was sneak that clown statue into the bathroom, but eh, he might wait a while on that. This was enough entertainment for one day.

-finis-

Notes:

So, the recipe in question has been slightly modified from one in a reddit post and the poster had a couple of similar questions as Edge, although their solution wasn't the same. 😂 I couldn't resist writing how Edge would react to finding such a recipe.

The ‘The Congregational Cook Book, edited by the ladies’ aid society of the First Congregational Church, 1915.’ is real enough and I own it. Some of recipes and their measurements are very interesting in comparison to what we see now!

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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detectivedreameater · 3 years

Text

Margarita Monday || Camille and Marley

TIMING: Mid October PARTIES: @carrionxcamille and @detectivedreameater SUMMARY: Camille comes over to Marley’s for margaritas but ends up sharing a little more than drinks. CONTENT: Alcohol

Relaxing just...wasn’t something Marley really did. Ever. Sure, she took time off and had nights off, but just doing something to do it for, well, fun? Was strange. Having another woman over and not having intentions to sleep with her was also very strange for Marley. But, here she was, setting out ingredients to teach someone how to make margaritas the right way, just to...do it. No ulterior motive, no reason other than to just be normal. Readjusting herself, Marley set out the ingredients-- Dragones tequila, triple sec, cognac, lime juice, and a little bit of simple syrup. Oh, and ice. Marley had had to go to the store and actually buy a bag of ice, considering the only fridge she had was a small drink fridge, and it didn’t make ice. Was that weird or suspicious? Did she care? If this Camille was anything other than what she said she was, Marley could easily get away or fear gaze her. She was in no trouble here. Still, she jumped a little when there was a knock on the door. She looked over, straightened herself out, then went over. “Welcome to Casa Del Marley,” she said in a cheesy tone, even if she did know proper Spanish. “It’s Margarita Monday today, so please come in and make yourself at home.”

Right, this was good. Meeting people, getting out of the house, making connections. Camille was making progress, and it sure was better than spending another tuesday night parked in front of the tv barely focusing on trashy reality shows. She needed more friends, and margaritas certainly seemed like a good way to curb any first meeting awkwardness, even if it was a little college to get drunk on a weekday. Whatever, it’s not like running the park was hard. This would be good for her. This wasn’t her threadbare allyship with Regan, and she couldn’t rely solely on Cece for company either. The greeting at the door made her laugh a little as she stepped in, toeing her boots off by the door, “thanks for having me, I needed an excuse to get out the house.” And an excuse to have a drink a little stronger than a glass of wine, honestly. “You earn points already for the alliteration.” She grins, “teach me your ways, margarita master.”

Marley moved around to the kitchen quickly once Camille was inside, trying not to let the strange feeling in her stomach take too much hold on her. “Yeah, sure,” she said, setting out two glasses and the mixer. “Anything to have an excuse to make margaritas, honestly.” She gave an awkward smile. “Not that I need one, but, you know.” She cleared her throat, gesturing to the ingredients she’d laid out. “Well, first of all, you need the right ingredients. None of that cheap shit, okay?” she pointed at the tequila. “This is the best kind, hands down. People might try and tell you Cuervo or Patron is good enough, but they’re wrong,” she tapped on it, “plus, my girlfriend would gut me if I said anything otherwise.”

It was a long time since Camille had tried to make friends, honestly. With Jace the way he had been she didn’t want people around at the house and eventually being lonely was just easier than trying to make yet another excuse for why the girls couldn’t meet her husband or see her home. But Marley had offered to have her over, she wanted the company too. Of course, Camille couldn’t really afford high shelf tequila right now, but they’d- unsurprisingly- had a well stocked liquor cabinet at home, and she did one day plan to have a set up like it again. “Right.” She nods sagely, laughing a little, “honestly I can’t drink Cuervo anymore anyway, it just tastes too much like terrible college decisions.” She grins, “does your girlfriend work for the company or is she just a big believer in high shelf tequila?”

“As it should,” Marley said, scrunching her nose. “Cuervo is for college frat kids who want to get drunk fast. You need a nice fine tequila to truly appreciate the art of the margarita.” She cleared her throat, trying to move past the awkward feeling in her throat, even if she’d said the word first. “She’s a lady of fine taste, what can I say?” grinned before sweeping her hand to the next ingredient. “Now, some people might also try and tell you that you can use sweet and sour mix. It’s cheap, it’s faster-- blah, blah. But they’re wrong. You gotta do it yourself if you want the best flavor. I use lime juice, salt and simple syrup. 2 parts lime juice, half part syrup. Pinch of salt,” she explained, finding talking about alcohol was much easier than talking about Anita being her girlfriend and what she liked. “Lastly, my special secret ingredients,” she moved down the line again, “triple sec and cognac. Add to taste, of course, but I usually do a shot of each. Really brings out the other flavors. You can add a little orange juice as a spritz sometimes, too, if you’re feeling citrusy. But, yeah--” she nodded to herself as if to congratulate herself on a job well done. “That’s all there is to it. So, shall we try and make some?”

College frat kids who want to get drunk fast? Camille almost winces. That had sure been Jace. Perhaps this whole thing really was her own fault, in a roundabout way. How had she not seen the signs of it when they were younger? Sure everyone liked to get messed up at parties when they were kids, but Jace was always looking for another party to get messed up at. She’d thought- stupidly- it was the social aspect. Jace was a jovial guy, he loved to be around people, that was why he loved parties. Maybe even back then he’d loved drinking more. Uh oh, yeah, she was not going to admit it to Marley but Cam had definitely made a few sweet and sour mix margaritas in her time. It was easier. But then she hadn’t been sure how easy the real method was too-- and honestly it didn’t sound like rocket science. She liked listening to people talk about a passion of theirs, and Marley clearly had this down to a T, so seeing her in her comfort zone made Camille a little more relaxed too, and they weren’t even drinking yet. “So you go pretty sour then? That’s good. I make cosmos sometimes and I always add more lime juice than recipes say too, I just like them sour.” She nods, “doesn’t sound like I’d be able to fuck it up too badly,” Cam grins and picks up one of the glasses, “assuming you start with tequila?”

“Oh yeah,” Marley said, nodding, “the more sour, the better. What can I say? I’m a sour woman.” She stacked two glasses on the counter in front of them and motioned to the ingredients. “It really is hard to fuck up a margarita, it’s more about getting the right proportions so that you can enjoy all the flavors at once. And, of course, making sure you have good tequila,” tapped the bottle again, “yeah, sure. Start with that, I’ll uh-- supervise,” she said stepping back and letting Camille approach. This was still...strange and knew for her, but she was learning that it was nothing to be awkward about. Maybe this was just how normal people interacted. Maybe if she kept trying, she’d actually get used to it one day. She gave a smirk. “Go on, then,” she motioned, “don’t fuck it up.”

Camille laughed a little- actually, she’d been called a sourpuss once, by an older guy at a club trying to grind on her. The memory amused her to this day. Maybe they were both a little sour, but she didn’t think that was a bad thing. “I’m the same with wine, I never like it overly sweet.” She says, stepping up to the counter to start by pouring some tequila in one of the glasses- hey, she was still young enough at heart to know roughly how to pour out a shot. “I’ve known people to use triple sec before, but I’ve never come across cognac. Hey, I’ll trust the master though.” Cam shrugs, adding in plenty of lime juice and salt before pouring some syrup into a measure and adding that too. “I will admit to hating it when people put stuff on the rim of a glass though, salt or sugar or whatever. I’ve never gotten that.” She was sure that too was something about flavor, but the grains just irritated her mouth. Camille knew she liked triple sec, so after a full shot of that she measured out a little less cognac- she’d never been a huge fan- and added that too. “Looks like I managed to avoid total disaster… Or I didn’t make a mess at least.” Obsessively watching bartenders in college to make sure they didn’t mess with her drink had paid off, it seemed. She raised the glass, “cheers.” And took a sip. “Wow. Okay, you’re right. I’m adding cognac to every margarita I make from now on. Damn, that’s good. I don’t even like brandy.”

Marley watched Camille fill up her drink, talking herself through the process. “Cognac just gives it a little extra bite, you know?” she shrugged, “I’m not a big fan of the alcohol on its own, but the slightest touch really does spruce up the most basic cocktail.” Mostly, she didn’t like it because it wasn’t an alcohol she could consume copious amounts of in a small amount of time in order to get drunker quicker. But she didn’t need to say that outloud. “Ah, see! You’re amazing at it already,” she said, leaning back against the counter. From around the corner of the kitchen table came JD, sniffing the air and the new scent in the house. Marley observed him for a moment, before realizing that his horns really weren't anything that normal people would expect on a hare. Or, really even, expect a hare. She went forward to shoo him away, but he scampered under the table and around into the kitchen, right up to Camille. “Uhh, he’s got-- a mutation,” she said, staring wide eyed.

It was all going well and everything was very normal, which Camille was pretty pleased about because since waking up in town she kept getting hit across the face with weirdness. Killer mimes and vampire neighbors and an eyeball where the goddamn sun should be. It was nice to kick back with a new friend and have a drink, and talk about normal things like cognac. She’d been into cocktail making for a while when she was younger, but then Jace’s problem had gotten worse and keeping high percentage alcohol in the house just… Didn’t seem smart. She took another sip and tried not to think about that. “Well it helps to have a good teacher.” Camille laughed, only the slightest of a bitter edge to the sound, “I would know, I used to be a- ah!”

Camille startled when the creature scurried up to her, pressing her body back into the kitchen counter. “Holy hell.” It was, in essence, a big weird looking rabbit. Which would probably not have garnered much of a reaction if it were not for the horns. Horns! Every day something new and totally out of left field. Is it the weirdest thing she’s seen? Well… There were eyeballs coming out of her taps at one point, that was probably weirder. But this-- Camille didn’t quite see how a mutation could give a rabbit horns. Which meant this was the supernatural kind of weird, which meant Marley knew about the supernatural kind of weird. “...Right.” She takes another sip of her drink and sighs, weighing the pros and cons. Camille could pretend to believe her, but there would be an awkward air over the rest of the night. She had enough secrets already. “Y’know, you don’t have to… I- look, here’s the thing, I’m not an expert. Like, I don’t know a lot about it all but I do know that there’s stuff in this town that is…” She waves a hand vaguely in the air, trying to find a good word for it. “Let me put it this way, when I lived in the motel my neighbors were vampires. So, don’t bullshit me. That’s not a normal rabbit.”

Marley watched Camille closely, as she started down at JD. She could see the cogs turning in her head. Most people who wanted to remain ignorant would wave this away and be happy to accept the “mutation” explanation-- but when Camille didn’t, Marley felt herself slowly warming up to the idea that maybe she wasn’t half bad. She came over around the counter and picked up the large hare, hoisting him onto one arm and holding him so his legs dangled below her arm. He sniffed the air, wriggled once, then settled in. “You’re neighbors were vampires? Gross,” she muttered, scrunching her nose, “vampires are so broody and angsty. Oh, my life is so tragic,’ she sighed, putting a hand to her forehead, “I’m doomed to eternal life and I must feed on the blood of innocents! Or...whatever.” She remembered the last vampire she’d known, and how much his disposition to drink blood tortured him. Vampires, for all their monstrosity, could be so human sometimes. “Glad you got out of there, then,” she replied, feeling the awkwardness hang in the air a bit. She cleared her throat. “He uh--” glanced down at JD, “--he’s a Jackalope. Supernatural hare, basically. But I swear he’s nice! Usually.”

Camille wasn’t going to wander around the whole town with her eyes closed. She was in White Crest because she’d died. If she wanted answers about what the hell had happened to her and didn’t want those answers to totally freak her out it would probably be a good idea to embrace everything else weird and wacky going on in town. It was just so… Exhausting. Nothing was normal. She couldn’t even make a new friend and drink margaritas without some not rabbit thing becoming part of the evening. Maybe she just had to get used to it.

It was almost comical the way Marley handled the thing, and how quickly it settled into her arms like it’d been there a dozen times before. It probably had, she seemed to be keeping it like a domestic pet. That was almost… Sweet. And her vampire impression did make Cam laugh. “They were broody!” She agreed, “those walls were thin, I could hear them complaining. Didn’t stop the parade of pretty young girls always going in and out of their room though, so they can’t have felt too put out.” Once she’d found out what they were Cam had started watching for those girls- some of them went back again and again, but what mattered to her was making sure they walked back out. She nods, “yeah. Cece really did me a favor.” Oh how much she had come to rely on the kindness of strangers as of late, it was new. “He doesn’t seem not nice. He just startled me. I’m still getting used to all this stuff, and I don’t really feel like getting into why I’m here in the first place but it.. Yeah, it’s part of my life now, so.” Camille shrugs, staring at the jackalope… She’d heard of them, but it hadn’t occurred to her that they might really exist in this new world. “He’s almost cute. Does he have a name?”

“All vampires are,” Marley said with a little roll of her eyes. “They’re pretty dramatic.“ At least, all the vampire she’d met were like that-- she felt like it almost came with the territory, just like how most mara liked the strange and horrific. Most of them even shared Marley’s love for insects, because unlike most mammals, they didn’t run away scared. “Oh, you know Cece? Like Cece Bishop, Cece? I work with her sometimes.” And somehow knowing Camille knew Cece made Marley all the more relieved. At least she didn’t have to skirt around things anymore. “He’s very nice, usually. Just spooks easy, which is funny, considering--” she paused, frowned, “he’s pretty scary looking.” Marley rustled her arms, cinching her brows. “Almost cute? He’s extremely cute, actually. I mean, lookit his face!” she exclaimed, holding him up. JD responded by thumping his legs against her and leaping out of her arms and over to the couch. “Well...I think he’s cute,” she muttered, looking back over at Camille. “His name’s JD. Short for Jack Daniels.” A pause. “I swear I’m not an alcoholic, though.”

Sometimes Camille worried she was taking all of this too well. But then she remembered her first few months here, the icy cold that had settled over her the second she realized she was supposed to be dead, sitting in that motel room and staring at the wall for god knew how many days without being able to move. Trying to accept it all had practically rendered her catatonic, and she was still struggling, but Camille was no idiot. Even with all the additions the world was still the world and she was still a living thing that needed to make money and survive and carry on.

“I haven’t actually met any vampires, so I couldn’t speak for all of them.” Cam shrugs, and then her eyes widen, “at least… I don’t think I have. I suppose that’s rather the point.” Wow, maybe she had met vampires. Marley could be one for all she knew. It was probably rude to ask. “Yeah, it’s her I live with. We met out at Dell’s Tavern one night and when she found out I was staying at that creepy motel she insisted I stay with her.” She nods, “right, it makes sense that you’d know her too.” The morgue and the police department probably worked closely. They’d probably done that in Boston, when she’d died. Camille chuckled a little at the contradictions, how Marley thought something could look scary and cute at the same time. Though she managed not to flinch when it- JD- was brought closer to her face. He had regular rabbit eyes, all big and innocent and shiny. She did jump when the beast moved suddenly though, clutching one hand to her heart and laughing despite herself. “He can leap like a rabbit, huh? Is he- do you just keep him, like, as a pet?” Cam smiled, “I like JD. When I was in college my roommate had a hamster and we called it Khalua.”

“Count yourself lucky, then,” Marley said with a small chuckle. “Oh, trust me-- you’d know.” It was a strange thing, to find someone so...okay with all this weirdness. Even Erin had been a little freaked out by everything at first, but maybe Camille had just skipped past it all already. Or she just hadn’t seen the freak out and was getting the after effects. She shrugged. “Yeah, Cece’s like that.” She didn’t know Cece all that well, but from what she could gather, the woman liked to feel useful and help others. And was a bit nosey. “He’s a hare, actually. Common mistake. Hares are bigger than rabbits.” She scratched her chin. “I mean, yes? He’s pretty harmless. He mostly just follows me around and chews on things. Animals don’t normally like me, so it’s kinda nice to have one around that, you know, does.” A chuckle. “Khalua, ha. That’s a good name. I’m gonna steal that if I ever get another pet. I was considering getting another tarantula, they’re pretty low maintenance.” She gave a short pause, before prodding her next question. “So...how do you know about all this stuff?”

“Oh, would I? Well that’s… Reassuring, I suppose.” The only thing that’d tipped Camille off about her neighbors at the motel was how loudly they talked about it. Perhaps they’d been trying to scare her. Honestly at the time they’d been the least of her worries, and she’d even briefly wondered if any attempts to kill her would actually work. Jury was still kind of out on that one, but it wasn’t like she wasn’t going to ask anyone to try it and find out.

Camille nodded, “right, a hare.” The difference wasn’t enough to bother her, but she’d try and remember it. “Ah, I hear most animals are a little bit destructive like that.” She chuckled, it was one of the things that had stopped her from getting a dog with Jace, being too precious about her house. “He was a real hit whenever we had dorm parties, that’s for sure. Even the dean thought he was too cute to tell us off.” The idea of a spider as a pet was… Really not Camille’s cup of tea, but if Marley already had a weird supernatural hare it probably wouldn’t seem so odd to her.

Right. How did she know about all this? Marley was a cop, it probably wasn’t smart to tell her too much about how she didn’t have a legal identity and there was a man in prison for her murder. But… Well, Marley was a cop with a jackalope, and wouldn’t it be a good idea to have as many useful people helping her figure this out as possible? If Marley had a strong enough link to the supernatural stuff, maybe she’d have some information no one else did yet. “Well…” Camille sipped her drink, tapping her fingers against the side of the glass. “How do you know about this stuff?”

.Marley ruffled her nose. “Hey, I asked you first,” she pointed out, frowning. It was strange to not feel affronted by the question, however, and she had to take a minute to pause and decide if that really was one she wanted to answer. A few months ago it would have been a solid and definite no, but now that things had changed in Marley’s life, she wasn’t sure anymore. She waffled on it for a moment, confused by her own indecision. “I’m a cop in White Crest,” she finally answered with a shrug, “how could I not know about this stuff? I know most of the precinct will like to make you believe everyone around there has their head in the sand, but you can’t judge us all because of that.” Even if Marley did. She knew most of the other cops didn’t believe in any of this shit. “I also sort of grew up with this kinda stuff.”

She leaned back against the counter again. “Okay, so now that I played my cards, are you gonna tell me yours?” she asked, nodding at her. “You seem pretty normal, so what could’ve happened to you to clue you in to all this shit?”

Camille lounged back against the counter, tapping her nails against the almost empty glass in her hand and waiting. Whatever Marley had to say she was willing to bet the other woman had been around this kind of stuff a lot longer than she had. The reasoning of being a cop was sound enough, she was willing to bet they all saw some weird stuff. But Regan worked in the morgue and had wings and still managed to be disbelieving of the whole thing. Growing up around it, though, that made Camille relax just a little.

She set the glass down to pull back the sleeve of her shirt and show the sigil on the back of her hand. “I died a while ago.” Camille said, trying to sound more nonchalant about the whole thing then she felt. “Woke up in White Crest earlier this year. With this thing-” She tapped a finger against the mark- “which I did not have in my first life. A lady told me it means I was resurrected and the mark keeps my soul in my body, or something.” Camille tugged her sleeve back down. “So I am pretty normal. Or I was, but it’s kind of hard to deny all this stuff when you know there’s an autopsy report with your name on it.” She shrugged, twisting her hands together, “I figure for now this town is the best place for me, while I’m still trying to get it together.”

Had Marley been drinking something, she would have spit out her drink. Instead, it came up as a cough that felt as if it stuttered and stuck in her throat, and she turned to look at Camille with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, did you say you died? And then-- came back?” That wasn’t really all that uncommon, but Marley had been sure Camille wasn’t a zombie or a vampire-- her tastebuds were too on par. But then she showed Marley the marking on her hand and it clicked-- someone had brought her back to life using necromancy. Marley didn’t know much about it, only that only very powerful spellcasters could do it, and that it was some sort of taboo-- Peter had informed her of this, and reminded her that they were not vessels of death while doing so-- and that Bea had likely also been resurrected. She’d told Marley she’d died after Marley had pestered her about not calling back.

“Yeah, well, I guess that’s fair,” she answered, scratching the back of her neck. “Normal is-- relative, I guess. Even though you’re, well, you know…” she motioned towards her, “you can still live a normal life.”

Marley’s reaction was… Almost comical. Especially in comparison to others. Nell had been matter of fact, Regan in denial. Marley was much closer to what Camille had expected of people. The tequila probably helped, but she actually didn’t feel all that exhausted by talking about it for once, which was a nice change. Perhaps because she hadn’t gotten into the details of her ex husband and the whole ordeal that had brought about her death. She didn’t want too, it wasn’t like she owed Marley anything. Part of normal was moving on. “It’s kind of a lot to process.” She said, nodding. “So I’m trying to take it easy. Just… Getting out into the world again, y’know? Steady job, making new friends.” Camille shrugged, “not perfect but better than nothing.”

She smiled,“actually, it makes me feel much safer knowing we actually have cops who understand exactly what is going on in this town, even if you can’t convince the entire squad.” She laughed softly, moving to set her glass down by the sink and pick up her bag. “It’s getting late. I shouldn’t keep you up all night. But we should hang out again, now that I know I don’t have to watch what I say with you.”

For a dead woman, Camille was pretty casual. Marley didn’t know what that experience was like, but she could understand wanting to make a normal life for yourself. “You really should quit the Cryptid Corner,” she said after a moment, but it was with a sly grin and not a judging one. “I heard that place is haunted.” Marley gave a sheepish shrug. “Well, glad I can help out, then. I’ll certainly do my best to keep this place clean, but White Crest is certainly a...dangerous place. Don’t um-- do anything to get yourself killed again, alright?” She started heading over towards the door with Camille. She wanted to quip about how the night was her time, but she kept her mouth shut for now. She’d already given away too much, and even if Camille had been more forthcoming with all this than she’d originally thought, she still felt exposed in some way. Even though Camille had spilled her entire story, Marley kept hers much closer to her chest. “Uh-- yeah,” she said, confused for a moment. People didn’t often ask to hang out with her again, let alone as just friends. Was this really how the world worked? She furrowed her brow. “Yeah, let’s do this again. Maybe with snacks next time, too.” That’s what people offered, right? She brushed the thought away. “And uh-- thanks for trusting me enough to tell me. You don’t have to worry, either. Your secret’s safe with me.” And if Camille turned on her somehow, it would make for some good blackmail. Not that she wanted that to happen. But old habits die hard.

Camille snorted out a laugh and shook her head, “the closest thing that place has ever gotten to haunted was the one time we had a possessed toilet. A nightmare to deal with but we’ve had nothing since. It’s too lame to haunt.” She nods, “yeah… Yeah I know this place can be a bit wild. Hell, when I woke up here people were being attacked by mimes, so.” It was almost scary how quickly she’d gotten used to it all, but maybe waking up dead could numb you to experiences like that a bit. “Trust me, I don’t have any plans to put myself in harm's way.”

It was true, she certainly wasn’t going to go looking for trouble. She’d even stopped walking around the forest at night, so things were looking up. Another friend who knew her secret, someone else to trust. Camille was sick of being lonely, see, she’d decided this life was going to have friends. “Right. I appreciate it. Enjoy the rest of your night, I’ll see ya.” She gave a cheery little wave before heading out the door, to return to her own home feeling a little more optimistic than the day before.

#chatzy #chatzy: camille #wickedswriting #margarita monday #camille

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