#spaghetti and meatballs but only the way my grandmother makes it

[lucycola]

TOS!Spock x Fem!Reader; The Visitor

Modern!AU where Spock is an alien who lands in the reader’s backyard and seeks shelter while repairing his ship. Eventual romance and smut. Inspired in part by this fic here! Reader is an American and shorter than Spock. Barely proofread. 

WARNINGS: Mentions of blood and bodily harm. Language. Sassy reader and sassy Spock. 

Part 1:  You know that I was hoping that I could leave this star-crossed world behind- But when they cut me open I guess that changed my mind

Damn that dog. 

You were sure she always hated you. She had never truly liked anyone but your grandfather. However, it always seemed like toleration than actually liking him. She came inside when called by your grandfather; your grandmother she had always staunchly ignored. She nipped at visitors when they tried to pet her in her younger days and if anyone ever left their meatballs unattended at the dinner table she’d gobble them up. 

The most you could get away with in later years were a few pets to her head before she huffed and rolled over out of your reach. She barked whenever packages were delivered and snapped at the ankles of your estranged family when they’d try to surprise you. At least she was good for that. 

The dog and the house were left to you when your grandmother died, your grandfather passing only some time earlier. 

You were grateful, truly-but, ever since then the property taxes and Spaghetti, your dog, had been a pain in your ass.

Today especially. 

A loud BAM caused you to jerk from a light doze. You fell off the sofa in a silly manner and sat in shock. For a split second, you thought it had to be thunder, but you knew it wasn’t.  Following the noise a bright, piercing light shined through the back windows of the house, bathing the whole den in white. 

It lasted for a whole fifteen seconds before dying out. You were left in near darkness, the power having gone out. The only light was from a dying fire you had lit hours ago. You had been curled up cozily on the sofa and now you were a pile on the rug. 

Spaghetti gave a little gruff, stepping on and over you. 

You clambered to the kitchen, not giving your eyes much time to adjust, and looked through the bay window to the woods in the back yard. You could see a small line of smoke billowing in the rain.

The old hound barked and you reached the wall phone, an antique to some and tried to dial for the police. No dial tone. 

“Shit.” 

She barked again. 

“Woof yourself.” 

You did not want to go out there, especially in the pouring rain at night. 

The light was what freaked you out the most.  Lightening didn’t flash for that long. Could it have been a plane crash? There was a small business airport near by. You weren’t even sure if it was still operation and besides, as far as you were concerned aviation crashes didn’t cause that much light for that length of time. If at all. 

Something was out there, though. 

You found yourself frozen, having already donned your raincoat and goulashes. Your hand was shaking thinly on the door knob, your other hand gripping the flashlight. 

You opened the door only a crack and immediately was greeted by a rush of cold air. You almost forgot it was late fall and the rain was freezing.

“Nope no way. I’d rather live,” you said. 

The dog decided that that was a great time to nudge her nose through the crack and force the door open. 

“Spaghetti!” you called, exasperated, heading out onto the porch. 

Damn it!

“Spaghetti, come back!” you cried, moving outside, trying to find her with the light on your beam.

You heard her bark and moved out further into the rain, following the direction of her bark.

The flashlight shined a concise path into the forest and against the opaque haze of rainclouds you could make out the billow of smoke. 

Except there was no fire.

You were trembling as you moved into the woods. The area well known even in the dark from your time as a child exploring them. You stepped on slippery rocks and roots and birthed into a clearing, forcibly made by a...wreckage?

You shined the light on what could only be an alien craft. You couldn’t even begin to describe what it even resembled other than such.

Lo and behold sat Spaghetti sat there, tail wagging, tongue lolled out.

“Come here!” you hissed.

She only sneezed in response and turned her backside to you, sniffing the wreckage.

Turn around right now, your brain screamed. Turn around right now and pretend you didn’t see a thing.

There was the sound of rushed air being let go and the metallic creak of a ramp being lowered like a mote.

Spaghetti began barking again, backing up next to you.

That same white light flashed out over you, although it was significantly duller than before. Silhouetted in the light was a figure, tall and very like that of a human man.

You instinctively shined the light on him. Dark eyes met yours and he took a step forward only to immediately clutch his side and crumple.

He plummeted off the short side of the ramp and you ran to meet him, coming to your knees at his fallen body.

He hardly looked alien if it wasn’t for his elf like ears, framing both sides of his face. You pressed a tentative hand to the side of his face. His eyes fluttered and closed again. You felt something desperate pull at your heart.

You could not leave him here.

--

How you managed to pull him through the mud and muck back into your home was nothing short of a miracle. You were relieved to see the power had come back on. 

After laying him out on the rug you felt sure you yourself would collapse next to him of exhaustion. You both were soaked and your first mission was to get you and him dry. You hastily went upstairs, tearing through an old dresser in a spare bedroom. You never threw out your grandfather’s old clothes and it would be awkward, but this was the only resource you had.

You didn’t know the extent of his injuries yet so you grabbed a first aid kit you barely knew how to use for good measure.

When you returned he was the same as you found him, making a nice wet stain in the old rug. Spaghetti had laid adjacent to his body, head resting on his chest.

You were appalled at how she had been acting. She was never like this-well, except when your grandfather was sick. The realization frightened you. 

You knelt to him and realized you were still trembling as you pushed his dark hair back to reveal a small gash that was oozing green.

He really wasn’t of this world.

His eyebrows, which stopped growing at the arch, furrowed at your touch and then relaxed again which you forced your shaking to stop.

You removed your hand and then awkwardly moved to undress him. He wore a set of robes that were dark in color with a high collar. The material was unknown to you, but it was heavy.

The whole moment was surreal. Maybe this was a fever dream, you thought, as you peeled off each piece of clothing one by one.

His chest was hairy and you found yourself blushing. At the sight of a deep wound streaming from his left flank, however, you were no longer enamored. You pressed gauze to the wound and held it there for as long as you thought might clot the bleeding. You right hand were nearly soaked with green, but after some time the flow finally stopped and you could remove pressure.

You found peroxide in the kit and were hesitant to use it on his wound. Would it hurt him more than help? Would it even work on his alien body? Would it poison him?

You  retrieved clean gauze and poured a bit of the solution into it. You gently pressed it to the large cut and he was up like a livewire.

He clutched your wrist with a steel like grip, his brown eyes wide and bloodshot.

You squeaked and struggled in his hold.

Spaghetti jumped back and yapped her head off, tail wagging.

He said something evenly, something you couldn’t understand.

You felt tears bubble up in the corner of your eyes and instantly you were released. You scrambled backwards against the fire place and he sat there on the rug, chest rising and falling harshly.

His face, however, was extremely controlled and almost devoid of anything.

“Who are you?”

His voice was deep and something in it excited you.

Wait.

Wait.

“You’re speaking English,” you blurted, that being the only thing you could focus on at the moment.

“Affirmative.”

“You’re...awake.”

“Astute,” he glanced around and reached for his side again, giving a wince. “Yes. I do not intend to alarm you, but I must inquire of where I am, exactly.”

“You...you’re in my house...” You further clarified by the name of your little home town and state.

“I see,’ he continued to look around and finally settled his gaze upon you.

“And you are...?”

“Y/N.” Your mouth was full of cotton and a thin tremor had taken control of your body.

“Do not be afraid,” he said and tried to stand, on failing at the sharp pain he felt in his side. He clambered back down to the rug, “I mean no harm to you.”

Spaghetti eventually settled down and sat next to you, cocking her head.

He reached for the gauze you had attempted to use to disinfect his wound and turned it over, finally pressing his softly to his side. He winced again but quickly regained his composure.

You drew your knees up to your chest, too afraid to any come closer. He didn’t seem threatening, but the way he had grabbed you frightened you. The wild look in his eye.

You tried to convince yourself he was scared in that moment; shocked to see an unfamiliar face in a place he had never been before.

“How...how do you know English?” you asked.

He looked over you and then met your eyes. Your eyes fluttered down, pink flushing up your neck and reaching your ears.

“My mother is Terran,” he informed you.

“Terran?”

“From Earth,” he further elaborated, “My father is of Vulcan and as am I, as it is where I was born.”

You found the courage to nudge yourself a little closer and crawled enough to where you were two feet away.

“What’s your name?” you asked.

He held up his free hand, spreading his fingers into a strange salute.

“I am Spock.”

“Spock,” you repeated, feeling the name on the edge of your lips. You held out a hand, “P-pleased to meet you.”

He only looked at it quizzically and you withdrew your hand awkwardly.

--

You probably should have been more freaked out that you were, but for some reason you were calmly packing his wound and trying not to wrap the gauze around his midsection so tightly. You didn’t make eye contact-no, couldn’t as you tended to his wounds. Why did you feel so embarrassed? You had seen a man half naked before. You had slept fully naked with multiple people. Was it his ears? You almost had the inclination to pinch them, but seeing as he wouldn’t even shake your hand, that was a big no-no. Even people on earth didn’t do that-well, strangers didn’t.

You remember your grandmother snagging your ear after finding the broken window your baseball had sailed through.

Spaghetti was sitting on his other side, casually sniffing at him. He paid her no mind however.

Jesus, you thought, she’s never been this nice to a stranger.

“Y/N.”

You looked up and were met with dark eyes, deep and ever so slowly burning into your face.

“Thankyou for your assistance,” he continued, “The location of my wound is approximate five point seven centimeters from my heart and would have been fatal.”

“No problem,” you replied, sticking the final wrap of coban to itself, “Just don’t harvest my organs.”

What was supposed to be a half-hearted joke was met by silence. His brow furrowed for a split second and then returned to its default state of stone.

“I do not comprehend such a statement.”

You felt the color drain from you face a bit.

What if he was here to harvest you? Probe you, splay you on an operation table-wait.

“Your heart is in your stomach?” you back-peddled unintentionally.

“Precisely where a human’s liver would be located.”

Please don’t take my liver, Mister Spaceman.

Your face was still pale, eyes wide. He stared at you a moment. He gingerly grabbed the neatly folded stack of you grandfather’s clothes you provided him.

Spaghetti who had been sniffing him for over fifteen minutes at this point licked a long stripe up his cheek.

He finally acknowledged her, “No, thankyou. I presume this a...companion of some kind.”

“She’s my dog. Spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti,” he repeated. You assumed it was meant to be a question, but it came out more like a statement. His voice was so...even and monotone almost.

“That’s her favorite food.”

He nodded, “I see.”

“I assume you possess a lavatory in this domicile,” he said as he stood. Jesus, Spaceman was tall.

You pointed down the hall, “Second door to the left.”

“I shall return.”

You nodded, mouth feeling dry.

It had dawned on you, all at once, without warning.

You had an alien in your house-who knew where your liver was in your body.

But-you kept reminding yourself, his mother was from Earth. Meaning he was half human his self. What if that was a lie? He could speak English after all.

You glanced at the phone in the kitchen. No police would ever believe you over the phone. Even if someone showed up the wreck and Spock would be seized and then you’d be tossed in a looney bin for good measure. A total cover up, government style.

Maybe you were already in an institution, hallucinating all of this.

“Pinch me,” you murmured.

“Why would I perform such an act? It seems it would be unpleasant to you.”

You looked up to see Spock standing over you, a spectacle in your dead grandfather’s clothes.

“You seem unwell.”

You stood, still a good head shorter than he.

“Spock, why are you here?” you asked, trying to conceal the shiver

“Because you brought me here,” he replied, as if it was the only explanation you needed.

Smartass.

“No, Spock, on Earth,” you urged.

He tilted his head, “As I said before, my mother is Terran. I have always wanted to visit after hearing her stories.”

You nodded, half convinced, “What’s her name.”

“Amanda Grayson.”

“She’s-”

“Terran.”

“No,” you started, “She’s American?”

“Indeed,” he replied moving over to lean on the side of the couch. His hand had come to rest on his injured side. He did not make any kind of face to indicate he was uncomfortable, however.

“So...” you glanced around the room a bit, feeling around for a not completely obvious way to interrogate him, “What state is she from?”

“Iowa,” he answered simply. “That is where I was travelling to initially.”

“Oh, buddy, you’re way away from there,” you snorted.

“Still astute, aren’t you,” he retorted, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

“What?” you asked, thrown off.

“I was simply stating that you are aware of your location in terms of state and distance from my intended location-”

“I know when someone’s being a smartass,” you rolled your eyes. “Anyway, what’re you doing all the way out here. Did you crash?”

Stupid question. You knew that already. You mentally slapped yourself. 

“Affirmative.”

“Why?”

“That-” he answered, “is something I have yet to discover. That of which is something I would like to do now.”

--

“I’m not going out there with you,” you said, hands on each hip.

Spaghetti whined at his feet.

“I did not inquire upon you to accompany me,” Spock said pulling on a pair of rainboots, also your grandfather’s. It was so odd to see his clothes being used. It almost felt perverse. However, he did change back into his soaking wet clothes-at least the under tunic and slack that were under his robes.

It was oddly respectful.

“I don’t think you should go out there either,” you said, “You’re still hurt and the weather has gotten worse.”

“Precisely why I must return to the ship,” he said, already heading to the door, “There is a medical kit I must retrieve. These bandages will not suffice in helping my blood clot efficiently. The wound is much deeper than I initially realized and I am due to slowly bleed out over the next twelve hours.”

You made a face, fully flustered with him, “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I just did.”

You huffed. Men. “What if you get hurt worse than you already are?”

He looked down at you, “I did not say I was opposed to your company. I would let you go alone to retrieve the kit if it were not plausible that you would not get lost or injured in the process.”

“I’m not useless,” you said, pouting a little.

“Strange. You keep reiterating statements that I have not made, “ he remarked, “Mother does the same thing.”

Your neck flushed. You wasn’t sure if that was meant to be sweet or insulting.

“Are you to accompany me or not, pi' veh.”

A sharp thought pierced into your mind, causing your stomach to drop.

That’s just what he wants, isn’t it? To get you on his ship, alone, so he can splice you and-

“Y/N-you look unwell again.”

You grabbed your grandfather’s unused coat that had hung next to your grandmother’s, gathering dust on the hook for several years.

You handed it to him, “Be careful.”

Spaghetti woofed quietly followed by a little whine.

“No, you can’t go,” you said as the extra-terrestrial disappeared. 

You slid down to the floor with your back to the door, leaning your head against the wood. 

Spaghetti wined again. 

“We have to be patient.” 

You place your hand atop her head. She let it stay there for two seconds and then ducked, moving to lay beside you. You tried to scratch her ear, but she rolled over, woofing quietly.

“He said he had twelve hours before he bled out, “you said to yourself, “He’ll be fine.”

You closed your eyes. 

--

You awoke with a start Spaghetti woofing into your ear. You could smell her rancid breath. 

“Gross,” you shoved her away. How long had you been asleep? 

You looked at the clock. Nearly an hour had passed.  You looked around. The fire had died out completely and your grandfather’s boots and coat were still missing. 

Fuck. 

Spaghetti whined louder, nipping at your ankle. 

“Okay, okay!” you sighed, “Fine! But you have to stay here this time.” 

The dog plopped back down on her bottom as if acknowledging your statement.

You shakily grabbed your rain coat, still dripping a bit from earlier. You grabbed the flash light and the fire poker for good measure. 

Gird your livers, folks. 

You stepped out once again and cursed yourself for not changing back into your wet clothes once again like Spock had before. Now you’d be the proud owner of two sets of wet clothes.

Although the rain had lightened some the wet still settled through your coat and stuck like ice to your skin. 

It was a bit easier to navigate down to the wreckage again as you retraced your steps in the flashlight’s beam. The smoke had been stifled and there was no light coming from the ship. The door was still down and you hesitantly took a step onto the ramp. 

You nearly ate dirt as you slipped and fell onto your backside. Embarrassingly you continued forward on your hands and knees, clutching the flashlight in your armpit. 

This is probably a trap, you mercilessly thought, or he’s dead. 

Shit. 

You made it inside a small cargo hold it seemed like and shined your light on what looked like a ladder. Little smears of green were on the bars. 

His blood. 

Shit again. 

You shined a light up into the hole. “Spock!”

No answer. 

“Spock, answer me!”

Nothing.

You took in a deep breath.

“You come down this instant! If you think you’re going to eat my liver you’re wrong buddy!”

“Vulcans are--vegetarian.”

Your heart did a leap at the sound of his voice and immediately settled in your stomach. He sounded out of breath.

“Are you okay?” You carefully began up the ladder, to what may have been your funeral. It was too late now. You were already invested. 

“Spock?” you called again, in a softer voice. 

You crawled into what you could only assume to be a cockpit with its control board and chairs. It was sleek and devoid of much color. It had a wide windscreen which showed blurry stars and rain streaks. 

“Y/N.”

You turned to see Spock sitting again the wall with a some kind of kit in hand. It looked as if he had begun to staple his wound but had only got halfway. His hands were soaked in green.

“Spock!” you hissed and clambered closer. 

“I thought you were not coming.”

“I thought you were dead.” 

“Or to eat you, apparently.” 

You ears flushed pink. “You’re bleeding all over the place!” 

You noticed a set of shiny fabric squares at his hip and assumed were towels of some kind. You picked one up and carefully pressed it to the unstapled wound. You didn’t know what you were doing. Panic had already settled in. He was pale and you were afraid. 

“The--local anesthetic was obliterated in the crash and I have found it somewhat difficult to operate under such conditions with one hand,” he explained eloquently even while wincing. 

He pulled the towels away to demonstrate. 

“You see, I need to hold the wound closed while I mend, but--” he tried to pinch his skin together, “-it keeps slipping. You must hold it together for me if I am to be successful.” 

Your stomach turned again. “Oh-okay.”

You tucked the flash light between the crook of your neck and shoulder. The vessel was not completely out of light. There were very dims lights outline the windscreen, but it didn’t seem like enough. 

You tried to pinch his skin together without your fingers dipping into the wound. 

“That will do,” he said, continuing to staple. The clicking noise it made reminded you of when your aunt took you to get your ears pierced at the mall. Your grandmother had been furious. Your right ear had gotten infected. 

You hoped furiously this wound didn’t get infected. You didn’t know if you could even get antibiotics for him, much rather if he could even take them. 

“Do you have medicine here?”

“In the bag,” he replied evenly, trying to steady his breath.

Slowly he stapled and you moved your hands along until you both reached the end. He reached into the med kit and pulled out something that looked like a hollow tube filled with an orange fluid. He fumbled it with his bloody grip and you caught it. 

“Press it to my abdomen, right above the sutures. There is a button on the side.” 

You did as he told and he stifled a hiss. You heard a spraying sound, but saw nothing come of it. The orange fluid had disappeared. 

Insulin?

“Medicine-” he answered as if he read your mind. “-to prevent infection.”

You returned the vial to the bag and grabbed a clean towel. You began to try to clean him up, shivering. 

“Let’s go home.”

PART TWO

[firesmokeandashes]

Hello, and happy Blorbo blusday!! I'm well *checks clock* 1h late gasp! As an excuse I can only say that today I have been packing and I forgot it was Thursday. (As usual I am @writeblr-of-my-own) ANYWAYS. For today's question, I'd like to know about food preference and cooking skills of your blorbo(es)! What can they cook, what they like to eat, whether they are good in the kitchen, or better away from it and close to a fire extinguisher!

Hello! Happy belated Blorbo Blursday!

Today, it seems the gang will either be cooking in a kitchen or burning it down TwT

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Jordan isn't really a cook, though he can make a few basic meals without setting the house on fire. But his real skill is baking! His Chocolate Haupia pie is to die for. Even his Tina and Tinamatua nod their head in approval when Jordan served it to them.

Unlike Jordan, Amelia isn't very good at baking. But she is a wizard when it comes to cooking! Anyone who has tried her food will tell you so! From traditional Irish dishes to spaghetti and meatballs, she either knows how to cook it or will learn how to. But her favorite dishes to cook for her friends, family, and herself are colcannon and potato soup.

Nala, on the other hand, should not be trusted to make anything other than toast, cereal, scrambled eggs, and a basic sandwich. Otherwise, she will burn down her entire house, and the neighbors!

Aiden is the opposite of his girlfriend when it comes to things in the kitchen. Not only can he cook, but he's also pretty darn good at baking. He can cook all sorts of traditional Brazilian/Portuguese dishes. From, feijoada, picanha and

Kaine is an okay chef and a semi-decent baker. He knows how to make a few basic meals like soup, spaghetti, and meatloaf, and can bake things like cake, cookies, and cupcakes without burning the house down. Though he did set a batch of cookies on fire once. Butt hey! Doesn't every baker at one point set something on fire?

Martha will just straight up burn the house down. And she knows this, but somehow, her mom and Grandmother just can't seem to get it through their heads that she should not be allowed in the kitchen. Because no matter how many times Martha says she can't cook or sets a dish on fire. Her mom and grandma will drag her back into the kitchen and try to get her to cook.

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If you would like to read more content about the gang click one of the links below!

The gang going to a fantasy world

The gang going on a car trip

And a special thank you to @writeblr-of-my-own for the tag and my bestie for helping me research dishes for Aiden to cook :)

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So, I asked my best friend to help me research the traditional dishes for Aiden, and she copied down the recipes for them, so I told her to send them and that I would use them here. So, here's some traditional Brazilian and Latin recipes that my best friend found for me TwT

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Corned Beef Empanadas With Pickled Cabbage Slaw (Curtido)

The traditional way to enjoy corned beef is usually boiled until tender with green cabbage served with potatoes and carrots.

FOR THE EMPANADA DOUGH:

1 CUP SHORTENING MELTED

6 OUNCES COLD LIGHT BEER

1 ½ TSP BAKING POWDER

1 TSP SALT

3 TO 3 ½ CUPS FLOUR (PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING )

1 LARGE EGG, PLUS 1 TABLESPOON WATER (WHISK TOGETHER FOR EGG WASH)

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FOR THE EMPANADA FILLING:

OLIVE OIL

½ RED ONION, DICED

1 CUP WHITE POTATOES, PEELED AND DICED

1 CUP CARROTS, PEELED AND DICED

1 JALAPEÑO, MINCED

1 CLOVE GARLIC, MINCED

4 CUPS COOKED CORNED BEEF, CHOPPED (ABOUT 1½ POUNDS)

2 TBSP APPLE CIDER VINEGAR

½ TSP PEPPER

SALT TO YOUR TASTE

4 TO 6 OUNCES SWISS CHEESE, SHREDDED

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FOR THE EMPANADA FILLING:

OLIVE OIL

½ 
RED ONION, SLICED THIN

1 POBLANO PEPPER, DICED

1 ORANGE BELL PEPPER, DICED

1 JALAPEÑO PEPPER, MINCED

1 CLOVE GARLIC, MINCED

1 CUP SHREDDED CARROTS

5 CUPS SHREDDED RED CABBAGE

5 TBSP APPLE CIDER VINEGAR

SALT AND PEPPER TO YOUR TASTE

¼ CUP CILANTRO CHOPPED

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Steps:

Add the cold beer to the melted shortening, and stir gently. Add the baking powder, salt and gradually add in the flour until the dough forms. Transfer dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead until smooth, adding a little flour. The dough should be a little tacky but not sticky. Transfer to bowl, cover and set aside.

For the filling, preheat 2 tablespoons of olive oil to medium heat. Add the onion, potatoes, carrots, jalapeño, and garlic. Cook for 8 to 10 minutes or until potatoes are soft. Add the corned beef, vinegar, and pepper. Stir well to combine, season with salt to taste. Remove from heat and let cool. Once cool, fold in the shredded cheese, cover, and chill until ready to use.

When the filling is cooled and ready, preheat the oven to 395ºF. Roll 24 dough balls, transfer them to a plate, and cover them loosely with plastic wrap. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside. On a lightly floured surface, roll out each dough ball to about 5 inches in diameter. Fill with 3 full tablespoons of filling, fold over, pinch, and seal. Transfer to a baking sheet. Slice a 1/2 slit on top of the empanadas, and brush with egg wash. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes on the lower rack of the oven until golden brown. Move the pan of empanadas up to the middle of the oven and broil for a minute or until the desired browning is reached.

While the empanadas are baking, prepare the curtido (slaw). Preheat 2 tablespoons of olive oil to medium heat for a few minutes. Add the onions, poblano pepper, bell pepper, jalapeño, and garlic. Cook for 6 to 8 minutes. Add in the carrots, cabbage, and vinegar. Toss to combine, season with salt and pepper to taste. Cook for just another minute, fold in the cilantro, cover, and remove from heat until ready to serve. Serve empanadas with the curtido.

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Sopa de Res con Fideos

This soup normally takes more than two hours to get the stock nice and rich with the broth from the bones. That said, this is not the “full” version of the way the soup is actually made; this is the “condensed” version. Still, it's a recipe that uses many ingredients that are typical to Puerto Rico.

Recipe:

1POUND BEEF SHANK

1POUND BEEF CUBES

4 CUPS BEEF STOCK

2CUPS WATER

1GREEN BELL PEPPER CUT IN HALF AND SEEDED

1 SMALL ONION CUT IN HALF AND PEELED

2 CLOVES GARLIC

1 RIPE HASS AVOCADO CUT IN HALF AND SEEDED

2 MEDIUM-SIZED CARROTS DICED

1 MEDIUM-SIZED YAUTIA DICED (THIS IS ALSO KNOWN AS MALANGA OR TARO), OPTIONAL

2 SMALL POTATOES DICED

2 TABLESPOON TOMATO SAUCE 1
BAY LEAF

1 TEASPOON DRIED OREGANO

8 OUNCES FIDEOS OR FINE EGG NOODLES

SALT AND PEPPER TO TASTE

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Steps:

1. Season your meat, both beef shank and beef cubes. I use my adobo seasoning mix which I make homemade, but you may use your own seasoning. Just make sure that you remember this will be covered with beef stock plus water, so you will have to season it well so the salt doesn’t wash away.

2. In a large kettle or Dutch oven, pour your broth and water in with the seasoned meat, then add bell pepper, onion, garlic cloves and celery. Bring to a boil. Cover and simmer on moderate to low heat for about an hour.

3. Transfer the vegetables to a blender and blend (use caution and place a damp towel over the opening so as not to have a catastrophe) until it turns into a puree (excluding the celery, you’ve just made a partial version of recao!) BE PROUD, BE VERY PROUD!

4. With a sieve, pour this puree back into the soup. You just want to extract the liquid, not the solids.

5. Now add in your carrots, yautia and potatoes. Gradually bring to a boil. Taste for salt and add pepper to taste. Add the oregano, bay leaf and tomato sauce.

6. Stir to mix in added ingredients. Cook over moderate high heat, stirring occasionally, uncovered for about a ½ hour more or until the potatoes, carrots and yautia are tender.

7. Add the noodles (fideos) and cook until they fideos are al dente.

𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷

Grilled Beef Ribs with Brazilian-Style Salsa.

FOR THE RIBS:

1/4 CUP COARSE STEAK SEASONING (CHECK LOCAL STORES FOR A BRAZILIAN STEAKHOUSE BLEND)

1/3 CUP GRAPESEED OIL OR OLIVE OIL

3 TABLESPOONS RED WINE VINEGAR

1 LARGE LIME JUICED

SALT TO TASTE

2 POUNDS BEEF RIBS BONELESS, IF AVAILABLE

༄༆༄༆༄༆༄༆༄༆༄༆༄༆༄༆

FOR THE SALSA:

1MEDIUM GREEN BELL PEPPER DICED

1BELL PEPPER ORANGE OR YELLOW, DICED

1/2 RED ONION DICED

3 LARGE ROMA TOMATOES DICED

1/2 CUP PARSLEY OR CILANTRO, CHOPPED

2 TABLESPOONS AGAVE NECTAR OR HONEY

1 JALAPEÑO MINCED

1/3 CUP RED WINE VINEGAR

2/3 CUP OLIVE OIL

SALT AND FRESHED CRACKED PEPPER

༄༆༄༆༄༆༄༆༄༆༄༆༄༆༄

Steps:

1. In a bowl, mix all of the ingredients for for the marinade. Let sit for 10 minutes.

2. Transfer ribs to a baking dish and cover evenly with marinade. Cover and marinate for 4 hours. 

3. When ready, remove ribs from refrigerator and let come to room temperature for 30 to 40 minutes.

4. Prepare your outdoor grill for indirect cooking. This means you will only light one side of your grill, so there will be a cool side and a hot side. Preheat to medium-high heat with the lid closed. The grill temperature should be between 350-400º F.

5. Brush the grates to clean and then brush with some oil on the hot side. Place the ribs on the hot side just long enough to get a nice sear on all sides, 3 minutes per side. Transfer the ribs to the cool side of the grill and close lid. Cook with lid closed for 1 hour and 20 minutes.

6. Transfer ribs to a small metal baking pan or disposable baking dish. Cover tightly with foil paper and place back onto cool side of grill.

7. Cook for another 50 to 60 minutes or until ribs are tender. The internal temperature should be at least 170º F. Remove from heat and let stand for 10 minutes. To plate, add a nice even layer of salsa to the plate. Top with the ribs. Garnish with fried potatoes.

The salsa:

1. In a large bowl, combine all of the ingredients for salsa one hour before the ribs are done cooking. Cover and set aside at room temperature.

༄༆༄༆༄༆༄༆༄༆༄༆༄༆༄༆

Sirloin Steak With Chimichurri

• FOR THE SIRLOIN STEAK

2 POUNDS SIRLOIN STEAK

PASILLA CHILE POWDER OR ANY OTHER MILD CHILE POWDER

GRANULATED GARLIC

SALT AND FRESH CRACKED PEPPER

OLIVE OIL

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

FOR THE CHIMICHURRI SAUCE

1/3 CUP FINELY CHOPPED FRESH LEMON BASIL OR REGULAR BASIL

1/3 CUP FINELY CHOPPED CILANTRO

2 TABLESPOON FINELY CHOPPED FRESH OREGANO

1/2 TABLESPOON DRIED OREGANO

1 SERRANO PEPPER MINCED

4 LARGE CLOVES MINCED

JUICE OF 1 LEMON

5 TABLESPOONS RED WINE VINEGAR

1/3 CUP OLIVE OIL

SALT AND FRESH CRACKED PEPPER

ꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬ

Steps:

1. Finely chop the herbs, chile and garlic by hand — it really makes a difference! Set aside.

2. Combine the lemon juice, red wine vinegar, salt, and pepper in a separate small bowl, whisk together, and taste for salt.

3. Combine all of the ingredients, cover and let sit for a good hour or more, stir well before serving and taste for salt. At this time, season the steak on both sides with salt, pepper, granulated garlic, and chile powder, and drizzle with olive oil. Set aside.

4. When an hour has past, position the top rack in the oven about 10 inches from the broiler. Preheat broiler for 15 minutes. Transfer the steak to a foil-lined baking sheet. Cook under the broiler for about 5 to 6 minutes per side for a medium/rare done steak. If you like it more well done, add 1 to 2 more minutes per side. Remove from oven and let the steak rest for 10 minutes before slicing.

■■■■■■■

That's it! That's all the recipes! Word for word from what my best friend sent me in a very long text message TwT

Anyways,Im hungry and my hand is beginning to hurt byee!

[leahm2000]

Random Journal

August 25, 2023

It is exactly four months away from Christmas day. I do not celebrate Christmas for the religious aspect but rather for the time and traditions with family. They are some of my favorite things on earth. Watching Muppets Christmas Carol on Christmas Eve after stuffing our faces with the annual fish fry. I love sitting in the living room with nothing but the Christmas lights on. Or heading a few houses down to my grandmothers and helping her set up her small Christmas village. And that is just name some of the bigger ones we have.

I remember when I was little I would think to myself that this is the way that Christmas should be spent and couldn't fathom anything else. But then I thought of last year.

Last year, for one reason or another, I didn't spend the actual holiday with my family. I spent it with my friends instead. We played games and watched Holiday epsiodes of various TV shows rather than watching movies. We had a gingerbread house decorating contest then stuffed our faces with spaghetti and meatballs. I then went home with my housemate around 11:30. We then sat in the living room in silence basking in the Christmas lights in front of our large living room window watching the world pass silently by. We stayed like that until at least 1am Christmas morning. Waking up around 9:30 we both made some confetti waffles and watched Elf.

Was this Christmas any less magical because I didn't spend it my 'normal' way? Absolutely not! In fact, i might have even loved it more because it was mine. I created it all on my own. Did I still do things that I did when I was little? Yes. But there is something wonderful about making something your own.

With Christmas only four months away, I have to consider where I am going to spend it. If I am being completely honest with myself, I kind of really want to stay here rather then head to my parents.

[pascalscenarios]

SAFE HOUSE (Dave York)

SAFE HOUSE

Bodyguard! Dave York x Reader

Words:

Warning: Mentions of Physical Violence/ Altercation, Blood, Death/murder 

Authors Note: I know the gif is of Zach but lets just pretend it’s Dave LOL ... It’s late I should be doing hw but I needed to write another chapter gahhhh - K

CHAPTER 3

“Dave?” you stood in the doorway of the office space in the safe house. Dave was doing work on the desktop computer. You stood there drying your hair with a towel. You had just taken a shower

“Hmm?” he says not looking at you, his eyes glued to the screen as he types, dragging and clicking the mouse around. 

After breakfast early this morning, Dave went right to work trying to figure out who was after you. He had contacted your father and let you talk to him briefly. 

Dave had sent you away after that so he could talk to your father in private. As for you, you didn’t do much. You explored the different rooms of the house and napped and watched TV. 

You hated that you couldn’t be much help to Dave. Here you are lounging around while Dave does research and investigate. 

You knew he wasn’t going to stop until he found what he was looking for. “You’ve been in here all day”

He didn’t say anything. His focus on the screen, like tunnel vision. 

“I think you should call it a night” you fiddle with the towel in your hand

“I don’t have time for breaks” 

“Dave...You’re going to burn out...It’s starting to get late. I made dinner, come and eat”

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to burn out. I’ve worked long and late hours, days even. I’m fine”

Usually hearing him call you sweetheart, you’d be agitated, but hearing him say it made you feel oddly different this time. 

“I want you to be with me”

That makes him look up at you.

You begin to stutter “ Uh I-I mean like hang out with you...You know, eat dinner...be in each other's company. I know we’re still in the same house but I-” “You don’t wanna be alone” he cuts you off. 

You blush, slightly embarrassed that you need him around you know. The old you would do absolutely anything to be away from Dave. 

This was a bad idea. You gotta suck it up. You can be on your own, Stop being so needy and clingy! you told yourself. 

“Never mind, just forget it. There’s spaghetti on the stove when you’re ready to eat-”

“Wait” He shuts down the computer and gets up from the desk. Pushing the desk chair in. He makes his way over to you, standing in front of you. 

A smile appears on your face. Happy that he decided to call it a night. 

“Spaghetti huh?”

“Yeah, with meatballs”

…

“Thanks for making dinner. I haven’t had Spaghetti in a while” Dave says as he washes the last dish. You're standing beside him, drying off the dishes he washed.

“It’s the least I could do. You made breakfast for me this morning, so I made dinner” 

Dave hands you the dish. You take the rag, wiping the water off the ceramic. Dave takes the other dishes that you already dried off and placed them in a cabinet. You stand on your tippy-toes as you set the dish with the others. Dave shuts the cabinet closed right after. 

You’re both standing in the kitchen in silence. 

“Do you wanna watch a movie or something?” you asked “sure” 

The two of you made it to the living room. You grabbed the remote to the flatscreen Tv off the coffee table and plopped yourself down on one side of the couch. Dave sat on the other side of the couch. There was a huge space between the two of you. 

You turn on the TV and begin to flip through the channels. You gasped in excitement as you saw a cute little cartoon mouse and a cat wreaking havoc around a kitchen, making a mess as they ran around. 

Dave cringes his face as stays on this channel. He looks over to you giving you a judgemental look “Tom and Jerry? Really? What are you five? Change the channel” He says, leaning to grab the remote from your hands. You move the remote away from him.

“Hey! Stop the Tom and Jerry slander, you hater! I used to watch this all the time when I was little. My grandmother introduced it to me.”

“I’ve never seen it”

“What?! Oh, we’re so watching it! How have you never seen Tom and Jerry? God, your childhood must have sucked ass. Tom and Jerry are hilarious!” 

Dave groans, sinking himself into the sofa. He would rather watch something but if that's what you wanted. He’s gonna have to put up with it. 

The two of you sat there in silence. Here and there your giggle would ring out, laughing at something Tom or Jerry did. Dave liked the sound of your laughter and giggling. He found it slightly cute how something so cheesy could make you lose it. Clearly, your humor was broken. 

Tom and Jerry's relationship sorta reminded me of the two of you. Tom and Jerry had an odd relationship. They didn't get along, always going after each other, but there were moments where they found common ground. And although their relationship was rocky, they did care for each other, whether they like to admit it or not.  

Dave liked where you guys were at, surprisingly. It’s a terrible thing for you to go through what you did. Almost getting kidnapped and killed, but he felt like this ordeal has brought you guys closer. It’s brought you closer in ways both of you can't explain. Something was staring. Neither of you really know what it is yet. But as he told you, it was you and him, in this together. 

“Why are you so far away?” You say. 

“What do you mean?”

“You're on the opposite end of the couch...You can move closer you know. I don’t have cooties”

Dave doesn’t move. He wants to move closer, but he’s almost afraid too. His job is to protect you, keep you safe. Not get all snuggly and cozy. 

Dave sat with his right arm on the backside of the sofa, sitting with one leg crossed. You closed the space between the two of you by moving yourself into his right side. You lean your body, resting your head against his chest, your legs tucked under you. 

Without thinking, Dave moves his arms from behind the couch to your body. His hand slowly rubbing your arm.

It was soothing. Your eyes slowly start to feel heavy. 

He hasn’t realized you were doing it until a little while longer when you had fallen asleep.

Dave grabs the tv remote from your hands, shutting the tv off. He scoops your sleeping body into his arms and takes you upstairs into the master bedroom. He places you down on the bed, the move the covers around so he could get it I’ve your body. 

He whispers your name

“Hmm?” You mumble, slightly waking up 

“I’m going to bed. Wake me up if you need me”

“Okay” you whispered back “Goodnight” …

“Get up!” You heard a voice scream at you. You were dragged out of bed and onto the floor. You didn’t know what was happening, disoriented from being awoken abruptly. The person yelling at you wasn’t Dave. 

You looked up to see one of the masked men hovering above you. Your eyes widen. How did they find you? 

They gripped your arm, yanking you up to stand. This was the aggressive masked man. The one who threatened to put a bullet through your head. 

Your fight or flight began to surge through you. Without thinking, you being to fight your way free from his grasp. 

“DAVE!” You screamed 

“Knock it off!” With the gun in his hand, he hits you in the side of the head. You help out in pain, the force making you drop to the floor. Your hand reaches your head. You pull your hand away noticing the bloodstain your hand.

“Get up! Let's go!” The masked man pulls you up again, pulling you into him. He holds the barrel to your head as he leads you out of the room.

As you stand at the top of the stairs, you see Dave standing right below, pointing his gun towards the two of you. 

The masked man pushes the barrel to your temple

“Let them go!” Dave yells

“You have a two options here pal”

“I’m not playing your fucking game- let them go NOW!”

“Either you let them go with me or I kill you”

“Not happening”

“Dave-“

“Shut up!” The guy yells in your ear making you flinch. You felt your tears fall. You hadn’t realized you were crying.

“The choice is yours”

Dave stands his ground. Not moving an inch. He grips his gun tightly.

“Alright guess we’re gonna have to kill you” 

Out of nowhere, you see the other masked man come up behind him.

“DAVE!”

But it was too late. Two shots rang out. Dave dropped to the floor. He didn’t move. Blood quickly seeped from his head onto the hardwood floor You began to sob, whimpering and calling out to him. You begged him to get up.

You hysterically cried as the man lead you down the stairs. You couldn't peel your eyes away from Dave. You felt so helpless. you couldn’t do anything to help him or save him. He’s dead because of you. 

The man shoved you down. You laid next to Dave. Your lip quivered as his lifeless eyes stared at your bloodshot eyes. The two men stood over you. 

“You’re next”

a pop rang out

You gasp, jolting awake. You frantically sit up in bed, your hands feeling over your body. You look beside you. Dave’s lifeless body wasn’t next to you. You weren’t at the bottom of the stairs like you thought you were. You were in your bed. It took you a minute to realize that it was only a dream. None of it was real. You were alive. You were safe.

Dave

You get out of bed, rushing over to your door. You quickly made it down the hall and open the door to Dave’s room. Cracking it open, you see Dave sleeping soundly. He was laying on his side, his body facing you. 

You sigh in relief knowing he was okay. You let yourself in, shutting the door. You made your way over to the bed. You pull back the covers and lay on your side facing him. 

He groggily says your name as he begins to stir awake

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” his voice was deep and raspy from being asleep for a while. 

You didn't say anything. A tear slid down your face and you sniffled. His hand moves over to your cheek wiping your tears away. “What’s wrong? Talk to me” 

You sniffled again. “I had a nightmare...” He didn’t say anything. Letting you speak at your own time

“They came after us” Dave atomically knew who you were talking about. You didn't need to explain.

“They found us, Dave. They killed you in front of me. They killed me moments after...It felt so real” 

His hand moved down your arm and holds your hand. 

“You’re okay and I’m okay...It was only a dream. We’re safe”

His thumb rubs over the back of your hand, soothing you. 

“Shhh, It’s okay...try to get some sleep. I’m right here...I’m right here”

MT: @icanbeyourjedi @sara-alonso @greeneyedblondie44 @hb8301 @alberta-sunrise @spacenerdpascal @ryleyrooroo @reader-s-cantina @nikkixostan @mindidjarin​ @evyiione​

[dragonnan]

This is faaaar from a complete list and will be spotty at best but I’ve been pondering MCU characters a lot as I’ve been getting slowly back to work on my mega-fic.  I LOVE minor head canons.  Simple stuff like favorite foods or what music they listen to or were they ever a smoker or whatever whatever.  So I’m gonna give myself the challenge of crafting some head canon and anyone else is very welcome to dive in! (some things are already established via canon)

~ Ethnicity ~ Faith ~ Smoker ~ Alcohol ~ Favorite food ~ Favorite cookie ~ Favorite animal(s) ~ Favorite music ~

Tony Stark:  Ethnicity: Mixed European-American-Jewish (he refers to himself as a “mutt”) Faith: “No thanks” being the initial answer but if he feels like opening up he’ll admit to believing there’s likely “something” out there but at the same time figures that “something” stopped caring about humanity a long long time ago.  Smoker?  Never liked cigarettes but smoked a few cigars when he was younger due to Obie’s influence.  He never was a big fan but wanted to fit in with his mentor.  Alcohol: Influenced both by his father and Obie, Tony started drinking hard liquor semi-regularly as young as 14 (his Dad let him try his first sip at the age of 6).  He pretty much sticks with Scotch or Bourbon but is not opposed to cheap beer at a ball game.  In fact the cheaper the better - a requirement for any self-respecting American.  Favorite food: hot dogs.  Neither one of his parents cooked.  Breakfast and lunch were whatever whenever for all three of them but dinner? You better be sure you were at that table before the plates were set down or you could go without (and Tony got a slap from his father when he’d observed that rule only seemed to apply to him).  But on the nights he was sent to his room, Jarvis would slip upstairs, later, with a sandwich or, on really rough nights, a couple of hotdogs.  Favorite cookie: Those Christmas wreath ones made with cereal and marshmallow with the cinnamon candies.  Favorite animal(s): he likes all animals but if he had to pick one for a pet he’d get an iguana.  Favorite music: well duh lolol.   

Stephen Strange: Ethnicity: Mixed European-American (borrowed from Benedict Cumberbatch’s ethnicity and adding the American) Faith: Originally atheist but now closer to Buddhist.  Smoker:  Never.  Even prior to becoming a sorcerer he has always been conscious of what he takes into his body; especially given the history of cancer on his mother’s side of the family.  Alcohol:  Wine, occasionally, though he isn’t really a social drinker per-say.  Favorite food:  The spicy shrimp and pork dumplings from a Thai place in Midtown.  Favorite cookie: Hmmm.... not a big sweets guy but he won’t turn away a few ginger-pecan cookies with coffee.  Favorite animal(s): dogs - unequivocally.  He had a border collie growing up on his family farm in Nebraska.  Favorite music: please don’t make this poor man actually have to choose.  

Steve Rogers: Ethnicity: Irish (as per comics) Faith? Irish-Catholic (as per the comics).  Smoker? Prior to the serum there was no way he could safely do so with his health issues.  After he started traveling with the performers all of the girls in the group smoked and he tried it out a few times but never developed a taste for it.  Alcohol: he drank A LOT - easy enough to do as it never had any real effect on him.  He enjoys scotch and bourbon (a taste he picked up from hanging around Howard Stark).  Steve seems to low-key always have the munchies (like most enhanced) and once Tony picked up on that there are always a variety of snacks scattered here and there throughout the compound (also of benefit for Bruce, Peter, Thor, and, later, Bucky).  Steve’s favorite foods typically remind him of his mother’s cooking.  While they’d never had much (especially after his father died) his mom could do a lot with limited supplies.  She used to make a fantastic meat pie with ground beef or tongue.  He hates SPAM.  They ate it in the Army, constantly, and just the smell will occasionally send him back to those days and not in a good way.  Favorite cookie?  Oreos.  He can clean up a family sized pack in like 10 minutes.  Steve loves animals but is especially fond of horses and dogs.  There was a dog in his unit in WW2 and Steve, like most of the other men, would share bites of his rations with it.  Steve is nostalgic about music from the 40s but finds that 70s rock really resonates with him.      

Bucky Barnes: Ethnicity: Romanian-American (borrowing a little from Sebastian Stan’s ethnicity) Faith? Possibly agnostic.  Smoker? Heck yes - both cigarettes and cigars.  Like Steve, the serum he received (via Hydra’s experimentation) means he gets to dodge the detrimental side effects of smoking.  Alcohol: He likes to drink but is almost exclusively a beer drinker.  He has a big appetite but refuses to eat around others if he can at all help it.  His favorite food is corned beef with cabbage.  Steve’s grandmother was an Irish immigrant and would make it every Sunday before the war impacted rations.  Since both Bucky’s parents were dead he’d often have dinner with his best friend.  Also, unlike Steve, he actually likes SPAM.  But then, arguably, he isn’t terribly picky about food in general.  Favorite cookie: molasses.  Favorite animal(s): birds - eagles in particular - though he doesn’t look too deeply at the psychology of their ability to just fly away.  Needless to say a crafty observer might spot a former Winter Soldier tossing seeds towards the pigeons.  Favorite music: He’s pretty eclectic though he shies away from anything too loud like death metal.  He finds classical very soothing.       

Peter Parker: Ethnicity: Mixed American-Scandinavian-German-ish Faith: Protestant upbringing but unsure where he currently stands. If pressed he’d say he’s “leaving his options open” Smoker?  “Oh gross!” Alcohol: “Um, too young to drink, thanks! But if I WERE to... you know, try it just to taste it there was this mudslide at one of Flash’s parties that was super good...” Favorite food: spaghetti and meatballs.  Lots of meatballs.  Favorite cookie: chocolate chocolate chip with chunks.  Favorite animal(s): NOT spiders.  And NOT birds given how many rooftops he’s traversed layered in pigeon ick.  He’d probably say cats.  Favorite music: The B side of techno rock - especially Depeche Mode.

Peter Quill: Ethnicity:  Half mixed American and half celestial.  Faith: His Dad was a god and he killed him so he figures he probably isn’t on the best terms with the Big G God should He... or She... or Them... be out there.  Look he just wants to do his thing and cause a little trouble without mixing it up with any other celestial types but if they DO wanna throw down he’d like to point out that he’s 1 for 1 and willing to rumble.  Smoker: He would not say no to a really good cigar and may have possibly lifted a case from Yondu’s stash when he struck out on his own.  Alcohol:  Anywhere any time and in large quantities.  Favorite food:  A thick steakhouse bacon burger with potato chips right on the patty.  Extra cheese please!  Favorite cookie: He’s a simple guy with simple tastes.  classic chocolate chip no frills no fuss and fresh from the oven.  Favorite animal(s):  He likes dogs - who doesn’t like dogs?  But he really likes cows.  Just maybe don’t mention the burger thing.  Favorite music:    

Thor: He’s a Norse god of legend so I figure we can forego the ethnicity/faith questions lol.  Smoker: He has never understood this human custom nor has he felt any inclination to try it himself  Alcohol: Beer, mead, and anything capable of knocking him on his ass.  Favorite food:  chili with ghost peppers.  Though nowhere near as hot as the fire chilies of Muspelheim (which would be instantly fatal for humans so its just as well).  Favorite cookie: strawberry cheesecake with macadamia nuts.  Favorite animal(s):  It’s a tossup between bilgesnipe and whales.  Favorite music:  The mighty horns of battle!  He also enjoys old school country, much to Tony’s disgust.  The story aspect of that music is what appeals to him.

Bruce Banner: Ethnicity: Italian-American  Faith: Catholic in his childhood; currently Atheist or maybe agnostic.  Smoker: He tends to avoid any substances for, you know, obvious reasons.  Alcohol: See previous.  Favorite food:  Waffles with sliced mango.  Favorite cookie: Oatmeal.  Favorite animal(s):  Mantis shrimp - “did you know they can generate so much power in their attacks that they can briefly super-heat the water up to 7,700 °C??”  Favorite music:  Indian- especially Krishna Bhajan.    

Clint Barton: Ethnicity:  Mixed European-American and Panamanian.  Faith:  His parents were both Protestant but he’s never latched on to any specific faith and hasn’t really devoted a lot of thought on the matter.  He has a sorta loose idea of “maybe something out there” but that’s all the further he’s gotten on the subject.  What he tells anyone who asks it’s that his religion is coffee.  Smoker: Briefly when he was a teen.  Alcohol:  Beer - he’s a fan of dark lager.  Favorite food:  Coney Island dogs, Pizza, and pickle flavored potato chips.  Favorite cookie:   Monster cookies with the mini M&Ms.  Favorite animal(s): Dogs  Favorite music:  80s rock and some country.

Natasha Romanoff: Ethnicity:  Russian.  Faith:  She was not given much choice when younger and was raised as “state atheist” (per comics).  In the years since escaping that life, however, she has tried to discover more about herself.  Her parents were both Russian Jewish and there has been a pull to discover more about that faith - especially since meeting Wanda - who is Jewish.  Smoker:  No.  Alcohol: Some vodka - that’s a given.  But she actually prefers wine; and honestly her favorites are wine spritzers.  Favorite food:   Favorite cookie: Krumkake filled with creme and berries.  Favorite animal(s): Favorite music:  Overall she listens to a pile of little-known bands and whomever is playing at whatever bar in whatever city she happens to be in.  She also is a huge fan of old school Spice Girls.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #329

“i keep it all inside because i know that man is everything but kind”

What is the best thing about your life right now? Uhhhhh... I guess from a realistic standpoint, my partial hospitalization program. I'm learning very important coping skills and have some social interaction almost every day. How was your second serious relationship different from your first? Did you approach relationships differently with some experience under your belt? My first serious relationship was made deeper than what was safe because I was 100% obsessed with him; meanwhile, with Sara, I feel I loved her in a wiser way and with a sense of self still present. I was definitely more hesitant to "let" myself fall in love again, though, and was very insecure at the start. Whose death affected you the most? My dog's, Teddy. What was the best time you’ve had with a complete stranger? I don't exactly make a habit of hanging out with complete strangers... Who has seen you at your absolute worst? How did your relationship change afterwards? Mom, Jason, Girt, and Colleen, probably. Girt showed up at the ER after my overdose (I was a dramatic fuck and wrote a suicide note on Facebook so I didn't just... go without telling some people things I definitely wanted to), and that's when my crush on him really kicked into gear again. He was and is just always there for me through everything. For Jason, I am quiiiiiiiite sure seeing me have an absolute catatonic breakdown the night of the breakup just pushed him away more. I probably looked crazy. Colleen also showed up at the ER after my suicide attempt, and it brought us closer. Then there's Mom, who's, you know, my mom, and my darkest times have always grown our incredible bond, too, because she would never fail to be there for me. What’s your favorite planet? Saturn is dope. What’s your favorite pasta dish? Just spaghetti with tomato sauce and meatballs. What color do you really want to dye your hair? My top three are pastel pink, light/creamsicle orange, and silver, but there are more. What’s your favorite eye color? Sapphire blue or emerald green. What’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into? Um, I don't break into places. What’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? Sara gets super squeaky, bouncy, and just in general wordlessly excited at reptile shows. Going with her to one is one of my favorite memories, mostly just by watching her. Tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. Have I ever been (awake) with friends past 3AM...? Idk. Do you have a favorite coffee shop? Describe it! Not a coffee gal. Who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? Sara. (: When was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? Now THERE'S a fuckin question. I don't have the slightest idea. What was your biggest fear as a kid? Is it the same today? Thunderstorms; definitely not. Have you ever been to a Pride festival? No, but I'd love to. How open are you with your parents? I don't tell everything to my dad (though I know I could), but I'm an open book with Mom. Is there anything you’re more open about on the internet (such as on LiveJournal) than you would be in “real life”? I guess my sexual history. I'm just in general pretty open online. What is the most petty thing you’ve ever done? Oh, I'm CERTAIN it involves Jason after the breakup, but I don't know the "most"... What is the longest you’d be willing to wait to have sex in a new relationship? I myself don't want to until we're clearly serious and long-term by that point, and I know for a fact they're in love with me like I am them. I don't care how long they want to wait, though. I said in a previous survey that sex just... isn't that important to me. It's not my most cherished form of intimacy. Who has had the most positive effect on your life? My mama. Are there any relatives that you are not on speaking terms with? What happened? Most of the family doesn't talk to my aunt's literally psychotic, manipulative fuck of an ex-husband. I don't feel like it's my business to share exactly what happened, but yeah, fuck him with a chainsaw. :^) Who was the last person to ask you to hang out? Did you agree to hang out with them? It was more like an open invitation to all of her friends, but I guess you could say Summer. I did. I honestly wanna hang out again. Have you ever had to take a stool or urine test? Why did you have to do this? Urine ones, yes: to 1.) test for UTIs and 2.) ensure I wasn't pregnant before surgery. Is there a food that you eat basically every day? What food is that? Not every day, no. Can you remember the first video game you ever played? What about your first video gaming system? I don't. It was probably something with few controls, like this Barbie horse riding game my sisters and I loved, or an Elmo game that we had on a demo disc. I think you had to follow a path on a pogo stick picking up letters? We had a PS1 when I was born, so that was my first. The last video game you played - did you play alone or with someone else? By "video," I'm going to assume you're not including the computer, in which case I think it was The Legend of Spyro: Dawn of the Dragon, which I was playing alone. It does have a two-player option though that I wanna do one day. The controls are definitely meant for two people. If there is a disc in your computer, what disc is it? There is no disc. Do you shut down your computer every time after you use it, or do you leave it on? I always leave it on... Do you know anyone who has ever been in a movie? Who and what movie were they in? What was their part? Hm, I don't believe so. Describe the last shirt you saw that you really liked. Where did you see it? It was definitely some sort of graphic tee on Facebook, I'm sure. It was something with an opossum design and a short phrase. When was the last time you brought a pet to the vet? What was wrong with it? The most recent vet visit was when we got Roman neutered. Do you have any bug bites on you right now? If so, where? No. When you go fishing, do you make someone else get the fish off the hook? When I DID fish, yeah. Not because I was afraid to touch the fish, but because I was afraid of nicking myself with the inevitably dirty hook. Did you go to daycare when you were little? Only very briefly; my incredible separation anxiety from my mom made it extremely difficult. She very quickly chose our neighbors as my and my sisters' babysitters. I could handle that because I loved "Uncle Donny," the granddad of the family, and I could see my house from their front door. He was/is (idk if he's still alive) a wonderful man. Do you know what you’d have been named had you been born the opposite sex? No. Would you ever visit a nude beach? NOOOOOOOO THANK YOU. Who was the last person you dreamt about? I don't remember. Where is your favorite place to be kissed other than the usual place? Don't touch my neck if you don't have free time lmaooo. What is your favorite memory with one of your grandparents? I'm going to be completely honest: I have none that are exceptionally important to me. I only knew one grandmother most of my life, and we had a turbulent relationship. Would you date someone who has cheated in their previous relationships? Naaaaah son. What was the most drastic change you made to your appearance? Chopping 8+ inches of hair off. Is there anything you hope your significant other/future significant other never finds out about you? No. I don't want to keep secrets from them above all others. What are most of your Facebook posts about? If you're talking things I actually compose myself and not share, probably pictures of my pets, haha. Or small statements regarding political issues or mental health. What’s your favorite part of the song that you’re listening to? The beat. Who was the last person you got into a small argument with? Probably my mom, idk. How warm do you like your showers/baths to be? Pretty hot. In the past year, have you lost weight or gained weight? How much? Gained... and I'd rather not share. What year was the last car you rode in/drove? I have zero clue, but it's old. What’s your worst/funniest experience with one of your neighbors? The neighbors at my childhood home had two wonderful rottweilers, but one day they got loose and killed at least one of our kittens. It died in my hands. Mom was fucking livid and sobbing. Besides this occasion though, we got along with them. How much alone time is too much for you before you start going crazy and want to be around people? It depends on the day, really, and how entertained I am in my alone time. Generally, one day of total isolation (from people, anyway) is enough for me to want my mom's company at least or to be texting Sara. The last time you burned your tongue or mouth, what were you eating? A pizza roll burned my tongue just a tad. Honestly, are you shallow? Not at all. Besides clothes, shoes, and accessories, what’s your favorite thing to shop for? S N A K E S ! ! ! I could LIVE on the Morph Market website and "window shop." I love planning out the next morph I'm most interested in adopting. If you have/had any facial piercings, what side are they on? Any reason you chose that side? If you don’t have any, if you had to get a facial piercing what would it be and what side would it be on? I have a vertical labret on my lower lip that goes directly down the center of my face. I chose it because I love the symmetry. I've had my right nostril pierced twice, just because I preferred that side for whatever reason. What, would you say, is your sexiest/most provocative article of clothing? I don't own anything like that. I have zero interest in showing off my body. Do/did you have attendance problems in school? I was notoriously tardy for the first class of the day a lot because I was an absolute beast to drag out of bed all the way up to college. Does/did your parents ever go through your computer or cell phone? Mom did. What song reminds you the most of a particular day in your life? Why is that? "Where the Wild Wolves Have Gone" by Powerwolf is a strong one. I played it again and again the day Teddy was put down, even before we went to go euthanize him. It was my inspiration to one day spread his ashes at Yellowstone in wolf territory. As much as I'd love to keep his ashes forever, like, what happens after I die? And my sisters? Eventually, that container will lose meaning and probably be discarded, so I want to return him to nature. Do you have any close friends that were adopted? No close ones. Who, in your opinion, is the best thriller writer? Idk. Does your Mom eat meat? Yeah. Do you prefer thick or thin crusted pizza? THICK. Thin crust is an utter disappointment. Do you have any friends with the same name as you? No. Who has the prettiest middle name you know? Ha, I mention Alon a lot when it comes to beauty... I can't remember what it is, but I do know hers wins. Do you prefer it when it gets darker earlier? No. It makes me go to bed earlier. Can you touch​ your nose with your tongue?​​ No. Is there a particular sport you follow on a regular basis? No. Are there any shows that your friends seem to be obsessed with, but that you just don’t get? Oh, loads. How old was the last child that you spoke to? She's six. What’s a song that makes you feel happy? "Pretty Woman" by Van Halen, for one. How far in advance do you prefer to plan? It depends, but generally kinda far. Do you always smile for pictures? With other people, yes. Some selfies, no, but usually. What are you most excited about right now? my MOTHERFUCKIN tattoo appointment in MAY!!!!!!!!!!! Do you prefer the aisle, middle, or window seat on a plane? Window seat, zero doubts. Where would you like to volunteer? I wanna help at an animal rehab. What was the last thing you ate? A strawberry and grain granola bar thing. How do you find new music? Usually YouTube recommendations. What’s your favorite city? I don't have one. What makes your bedroom special to you and what is your favorite part about it? It's a total nests of my various interests. My favorite part is my meerkat collection. Have you ever had a crush on someone “too young” for you? No. Do you shave your legs more than once a week? God no. I haven't shaved my legs since October lmao. Would you get married if you could right now? Definitely not right now. I don't have a job or my own place. What is your favorite type of jewelry (i.e. bracelets, necklaces, etc.)? Chokers. Do you regret losing your virginity to who you lost it to? No. I was wholeheartedly in love with him. What was the shittiest hotel you’ve ever stayed at and why? I've never stayed in a bad one, to my recollection. Have you ever gone on a boat and been sick the whole time? No. Have you ever kept something from the wild as a pet? A turtle for a little while, yes. Don't do that. Ever win first place for something? Yeah, a few things. What was the last thing you fell off of? Idk. Do you have a favorite local band? Who are they? No. What’s the most confusing book you ever read? The style in which Johnny Got His Gun is written is very confusing, but you adapt to understand it. Jumping back and forth from the past to the present can give ya some metaphorical whiplash. Do you have a funny last name? Does anyone make fun of it? No. Has anyone ever called your personality dull? Do you agree with them? No. Have you ever personally witnessed a drug deal before? Possibly. Ever have an ultrasound performed on you? What was it for? Yes, for my liver. I can't remember what they were checking for, but I was fine. Have you ever been kicked out of somewhere? Colleen's house, yes. Have you seen all the Lord of the Rings movies? Nope; got no interest. Would you ever consider getting a piercing in your septum? Nah, not for me. Do you enjoy being outdoors? Only if it's cool out, in which case yeah. Do you enjoy watching fireworks on the 4th of July? Not anymore. I just think about the terrified animals (wild and pets alike) and traumatized veterans. Do you enjoy tanning? Not at all. Which of the seven deadly sins do you commit the most? Sloth. Did you have a Furby when you were younger? Yeah. Creepy fuckers. How long was your first relationship? I actually don't remember how long Aaron and I were together... other than it was just a few months. Who was the first person to break your heart? My dad, generally speaking. Romantically, Jason. What’s the biggest lie you’ve told someone? I don’t know. Has anyone ever drawn a picture of you? Yeah. What did the last key you used go to? The car's trunk. Is there anything, any event, you wish you could remember more clearly? I honestly do wish I remembered my "first time" because that's a pretty big deal to me. What’s your biggest priority right now? My mental health. If you’ve stayed overnight in a hospital, how did you entertain yourself? I've done that numerous times, and given there was nothing good on the TV ever, I just slept time away or read. Since every time I was suicidal, there were very, very few things you were allowed to have. Have you ever rubbed anyone’s feet? EW no. Are your hands unsteady? Yes; I have what's called an essential tremor in both. Are your legs long or short? They're proportional to my body. Is there a bookshelf in your room? No. Do you own a robe? What color is it? No. Who’s the last person you smoked weed with? I've never done it. Ever had a person who was obsessed with you so much that it scared you? No. Has anyone ever mistaken you for someone else? Yeah, my sisters in the past. Is there anything you need to talk about with someone? No. Who was the last person who cried around you? My mom. Who’s the last guy to give you roses? Tyler. What band was on the last band t-shirt you wore? Korn. What piercing do you like most on the opposite sex? Maybe snakebites. Do you stick your tongue out often in pictures? Nah. I only ever really did once or twice when I had snake eyes. Honestly, have you ever purchased something, worn it, and then returned it? Possibly? If you could have your own house anywhere in the world, where would it be? In the mountains in a nicely wooded area with a waterfall close by. It'd be nice to have a small stream or pond too to sit or swim in. If you could create a holiday - what would it be? I wish the legalization of gay marriage in America was a legitimate holiday. Are you shy about singing in front of people? OHHHHH YES. Do you own a robe? Do you sleep with a sleep mask? No.

[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 3 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

Summary: Adore has always loved Courtney differently than she should. As time goes on, Adore embraces who she is, but it’s hard to accept the love that she has for her best friend when Courtney doesn’t feel the same. Courtney hides from herself in a love story that everyone wants to hear: best friends that have known each other all their lives that fell in love. But did she pick the wrong best friend?

Or: Over the years, it keeps coming back to the tree house.

Chapter Summary: Just best friends doing what best friends do. Right?

TW: Internalized homophobia

Chapter 3: Mercy

“Spend the night at my place tonight,” Courtney begged, wrapping her hands around Adore’s arm until she relented.

Adore probably should have known that something was off as Courtney grew jittery when they neared her house. And then, the smell of spaghetti sauce and garlic bread coming from the kitchen was the second clue that Adore should have caught, because Courtney’s dad usually avoided garlic like the plague. But of course, she didn’t. It wasn’t until Courtney tugged Adore by the hand into the kitchen and there stood the older woman, her silver-blonde hair pulled into a neat bun, her bright green eyes gleaming, that everything clicked.

Courtney’s Grandma Muriel was in town for the next few days and although Courtney loved her grandmother dearly, sometimes she needed backup to survive her visits. Unlike Courtney’s own parents who were free spirits that wanted their children to think for themselves, Courtney’s grandmother was a bit of a control freak with a closed-minded outlook on life. And it didn’t help that Courtney’s sister Kim was visiting home to kiss the ring - with her perfect grades and her perfect life and her perfect boyfriend, Brandon, the surgical intern who’d just spent three months in Mexico giving vaccinations to poor children.

“Why are you holding her hand, Courtney? Adore’s a big girl,” were the first words to leave her grandmother’s lips.

Courtney smiled tightly and stood on her tiptoes to kiss Grandma Muriel’s cheek.

“Hi, Grandma,” she said, still clinging to Adore’s hand.

“Hello, dear. Sit down, we were just hearing about how Brandon and Kim met.”

Courtney and Adore exchanged a look.

“Uh, we have some homework,” Adore volunteered.

“Yeah, let us know when dinner’s ready!” Courtney said cheerfully, relieved, pulling Adore from the kitchen as fast as possible.

-

Courtney and Adore abandoned their homework rapidly in favor of a movie as they waited for dinner to finish. With Courtney’s favorite fluffy blanket, the pair cuddled up on the couch together, Courtney leaning against Adore. After a few minutes, Courtney moved to lay her head in Adore’s lap, snuggling up to her further. Adore had mindlessly brushed a bit of Courtney’s hair behind her ear and Courtney found herself chasing Adore’s hand as it disappeared.

“Play with my hair, Dory,” Courtney said softly as she grabbed Adore’s hand.

“Okay, do you want me to braid it?” Adore asked as she started to card her fingers through Courtney’s blonde locks. The only response Adore received was Courtney nuzzling against her and a soft sigh of contentment. Adore giggled, continuing to run her fingers through Courtney’s hair, now more focused on the girl than the movie.

“What’s so funny?” Courtney asked, turning her body to look up at Adore.

“Nothing, it’s just that, you remind me of a cat,” Adore smiled as she twirled Courtney’s hair around her fingers before going to lightly scratch her scalp.

“Am I a pretty cat?” Courtney giggled as she nuzzled into Adore, even more feline-like than before.

“The prettiest,” Adore complimented.

An, “Ahem,” startled Adore and she looked up with wide eyes to find Courtney’s grandmother standing in the doorway, arms crossed. Adore removed her hands from Courtney’s hair and tried to nudge the girl in a sign her for to rise up, but Courtney stayed put. Courtney’s grandmother crossed the room, narrowed eyes on the girls making Adore anxious.

“The food will be ready soon,” she informed them before making her way through the living room to the dining room with a large bowl of salad.

“Okay,” Courtney responded and the woman exited the room without another word.

Courtney relaxed back into Adore’s lap and looked up expectantly at her.

“Keep playing with my hair,” she whined, “it felt good.”

Adore only shook her head, not really understanding why Grandma Muriel’s stare made her feel like she had done something wrong.

“No, let’s just watch the movie until it’s time to eat,” Adore tried to persuade her, but Courtney seemed determined for things to go her way. She crossed her arms and pouted, letting out huffs of disapproval until Adore finally gave in.

“Courtney!” Kim’s voice rang out sharply, and Adore nearly jumped out of her skin. “Get off your ass and help set the table. Lazy little brat.”

“Ughh,” Courtney groaned, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“I’ll help too,” Adore offered, the hammering in her chest slowing a bit.

-

“Come on, Dory, just taste it,” Courtney giggled, holding a forkful of faux meatball to Adore’s lips, which were clamped shut.

Adore shook her head vehemently. “No way. I’m not eating that vegan stuff.”

“It’s really good, I promise! It’s not like tofu. Brandon, you’re a carnivore; tell her it’s good.”

“Yeah, it’s good, Adore. I mean, it’s not as good as meat, but it’s not bad,” Brandon offered. When Kim hit him on the shoulder, he added, “No offense.”

Karen laughed. “None taken,” she said, patting his hand.

“I’ll stick to the spaghetti,” Adore said dryily.

Courtney nuzzled her neck, wheedling some more, “But how will you get your protein, Dory?”

Adore pushed her away, feeling Grandma’s steely eyes boring into them. “Knock it off,” she whispered.

“Courtney, stop harassing your friend, she’s trying to eat,” Grandma Muriel said.

Courtney sighed, rolling her eyes, then grinning mischievously and giving Adore a big wet kiss on the cheek before sliding back over to her plate.

“Adore, are you spending the night?” asked Peter.

“Um, yeah, I think so. If that’s okay.”

“Of course, love, you’re always welcome here,” said Karen.

Grandma raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t see a sleeping bag,” she commented to no one in particular.

“I have a double bed,” Courtney said, picking the olives out of her salad and shoving the last forkful of lettuce into her mouth.

“Wait, how come you get to share a bed but I have to sleep on the couch?” Brandon asked teasingly.

“Cause you’re a boy,” Courtney said, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Doesn’t seem fair,” he mused.

Courtney held out a peace sign in his face and affected a British accent, saying, “Girl power,” and tossing her hair.

“Stop flirting with my boyfriend, Courtney.”

Courtney’s head whirled around to look at Kim. “Gross!” she exclaimed, horrified, then added, “No offense,” and batted her lashes.

Adore snorted, nearly spitting out the all-natural clear sparkling liquid that Karen claimed was soda. “And also, the Spice Girls? Were never cool.”

“You take that back, Adore Delano!” Courtney lunged across the bench, pretending to pull Adore’s hair, while the brunette shrieked and giggled.

“Alright, alright, everyone please calm down,” said Peter.

Karen added, “Courtney, if you guys are gonna act like maniacs, you should probably be excused from the table.”

“Okay great thanks goodnight,” Courtney said quickly, grabbing Adore by the wrist and hightailing it out of the dining room.

Grandma watched them go, Courtney jumping onto Adore’s back as they approached the stairs and disappeared from sight. She made a disapproving noise.

“For god’s sake, mother, would you stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Those noises. They’re just kids. I know what you’re implying. Leave it alone,” Karen said.

“You do have a double standard, mom,” Kim said. “I mean, if I acted that way with a boy when I was 15, you’d have locked me in my room, in a chastity belt.”

“First of all, you did act that way with boys, and no one locked you anywhere. Second, nothing I say or do is going to have any effect on her sexuality but it sure as hell could have an effect on her self-esteem, so I’m not going to judge her or make her feel self-conscious. And third, you all need to relax. It’s not like Adore’s up there getting her pregnant.”

“Wow,” Brandon said, “Why didn’t you tell me your mom was so fucking cool?”

Karen leaned over and patted him on the arm, explaining, “Jealousy, my dear.”

Kim scoffed, and Brandon looked over at her, eyes sparkling with glee. “You sound like your grandma.”

Karen burst out laughing, pouring some more wine in Brandon’s glass.

Peter raised an eyebrow at Kim, muttering under his breath to his daughter. “Courtney’s not the one you need to watch. Your mother’s the flirt in this house.” He grinned affectionately at his beautiful wife.

Kim shook her head. “Jesus.”

-

Adore was in agony. For months, she’d been having twice a week “tutoring” with Violet, which was half tutoring and half messing around. (Just enough tutoring so that her grades were not suspicious and they could keep hooking up, if Adore was honest with herself.) And the thing was, Adore really liked Violet. She was funny and cool and didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of her, but the truth was, it was mostly a physical thing. Yes, she was undeniably beautiful. And seemed to be quite experienced in certain areas, which Adore was truly, truly, truly grateful for. But Adore would never love Violet. She knew that.

(Not that Violet seemed to care, so at least she didn’t have to feel guilty about it.)

The reason, of course, that Adore could never love Violet, was that her every waking moment was consumed with thoughts of her best friend. Her beautiful, vivacious, problematic best friend, who of course had no idea, and who was currently wrapped around her, fingers laced with hers, casually chatting about cheerleading practice and the Spring musical. 

“You should audition too, you have the best voice! Roy said that Ms. Maguire is really cool and will totally give leads to freshman if they impress her. I mean not that we’ll get leads necessarily and it’ll be fun either way but I think we should go in with the intention of totally kicking ass and–oh my god! Adore!”

“Yeah?”

Courtney raised herself up onto her elbow, looking into Adore’s eyes. “Can you believe Kim thought I was flirting with Brandon? How disgusting was that?! He’s like…almost thirty years old. Plus he looks like the guys on the cover of Danielle Steele novels.”

Adore giggled. “He totally does.”

“So not my type.”

“So…what is your type?” Adore asked softly, painfully aware of her hands on Courtney’s waist, palms getting sweaty.

Courtney paused, considering the question, a hand tucked under her chin.

“I don’t know,” Courtney frowned.

“Well, what do you like…light hair, dark hair?” Adore egged on, almost too invested in what her answer would be.

“Yeah, dark hair, nice eyes, full lips…” Courtney trailed off.

Unable to help herself, Adore volunteered, “Like…Roy?” with a teasing lilt to her voice, but slightly nervous about the response.

Courtney grinned.

“Roy is cute. I like his dimples. But…he’s such a know-it-all. I can’t really imagine kissing him…”

Adore seized this opportunity, affecting a deep robotic voice, saying, “Courtney, the angle of the lips really needs to be 90 degrees for optimal kissing conditions. You’re clearly doing it wrong.”

Courtney broke out into peals of laughter, resting a head on Adore’s shoulder, hugging her around the waist.

“Oh my god, or sex …”

“The velocity of penetration is best achieved through rapid thrusting,” Adore kept going in her robotic “Roy” voice, thrilled by the response she was getting, feeling only slightly guilty at throwing her biggest competition under the bus. “Courtney, you’re going to have to work on your flexibility or I’m afraid I’ll be moving onto a newer model.”

Courtney laughed and laughed, gasping for air.

“Stop, oh my god,” she exclaimed breathlessly, gripping the fabric of Adore’s pajama top.

“You guys could have a bunch of little blonde, dimpled, robot babies,” Adore continued, “and he’d calculate their feeding and pooping schedule on a spreadsheet.”

Courtney smiled dreamily.

“Our babies would be pretty cute…”

Uh oh. Adore needed to think fast.

“I bet his dick doubles as a laser pointer.”

That was the one. Courtney lost it, shrieking with hysterical laughter, and then biting on Adore’s shoulder to not wake the rest of the house. Her leg tightened around Adore’s, bare skin slightly sweaty under the mountain of comforters.

Adore tried to shift away, change positions so that her mind would stop reeling, stop imagining what would happen if she just turned her head, pressed their lips together. There was a part of her that thought maybe Courtney would welcome it. But the bigger part, the chicken shit part, knew she’d never do it. Knew she’d always be the one bracing herself while her bestie rubbed against her and cuddled her and talked about boys. She felt like screaming but settled for clearing her dry, itchy throat.

“Court?”

“Yeah?” The blonde still had a residual case of the giggles.

“Can we…um…I’m just…I just got really tired…can we go to sleep?”

“Sure.” Courtney kissed Adore’s forehead and let her roll over onto her side, spooning her from behind. She wrapped her arms around Adore’s waist, hugging her tightly, face buried in her thick hair.

Adore could felt a cheek resting on her back. She swallowed hard, wishing away the thoughts that raced through her mind. Was this always how it had been with them? It had just been since her adventures with Violet that things had started getting so uncomfortable for Adore, although she remembered that there were other times, one in particular that suddenly popped into her head…but that was over two years ago…

Adore was laying on her sleeping bag, head resting on one of the beanbag chairs, scrawling lazily on a sketch pad and sucking on the end of a popsicle, when Courtney burst through the trapdoor of the tree house like a bat out of hell, tumbling inside, a bundle of gangly limbs and sharp edges. Courtney at twelve was all legs and arms and big green eyes, blonde hair constantly in her face.

“Oh. My. God,” she began, “You will never believe what just happened!”

“Aliens again?”

“No! Oh my god, Adore, I literally…I literally just walked in on my parents having sex.”

Adore burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny! I’m scarred for life!”

“I mean, maybe they weren’t having sex…like, are you sure?”

Courtney smiled patronizingly.

“Ohhh, I see. Yeah, you’re picturing some nice little scene where they’re under the covers kissing. No. That’s not what this was. So I’m looking for my sleeping bag and I go to my mom’s room to ask if she put it away with the camping stuff, and I open the door, and first of all, there are no covers. They are both buck ass naked and my dad is laying on the bed, and mom is…” at this point, Courtney swung a leg over and straddled Adore to illustrate her point, “…sitting on top of him, tits out, just like…” Courtney started to thrust her hips, moaning, imitating her mother.

Adore’s pulse quickened. A minute ago she was laughing but now it wasn’t quite so funny anymore. The seam of Courtney’s jean shorts was rubbing against her and she started to feel things that she was pretty sure she shouldn’t be feeling, not with her best friend. She wondered if she should tell her to stop.

Courtney leaned forward, lips brushing against Adore’s ear, and whispered, “And my dad was holding her like this…” she moved Adore’s hands to her ass, continuing to grind against her, getting into the performance of it all, blissfully unaware of Adore biting on her lip so hard she tasted blood.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was all over, Courtney giggling and sliding off to the side, with an awkward, “Ummm…aaanywayyyyy…”

Adore cleared her throat, as the raging hormones inside her were replaced by first confusion, and then calm, as things settled back into their typical dynamic - Courtney playing with her hair, cuddling against her, bare leg thrown over hers. Just an epic mindfuck, but nothing Adore would give up if you offered her a billion dollars.

“So…uh…did they see you there?”

“Who?”

“Your parents.”

“Oh! Oh my god!” Courtney remembered how this scene began and started laughing. “Yeah, that was the worst part, actually. My mom looked up at me in the doorway and gave me this look, like…like I was there watching on purpose, like I wanted to see them like that.”

Courtney imitated her mother’s knowing look perfectly, one eyebrow raised. Adore was, frankly, as unconvinced as Karen that Courtney wasn’t there on purpose, but she held her tongue.

“And then she goes, ‘Courtney, can you please close the door? We’re in the middle of something.’ And then just goes right back to fucking him. My dad hadn’t stopped at all.”

Adore laughs again, shaking her head. “I would have died. Thank god Bonnie doesn’t date.”

“I mean, there is a bit of silver lining, though, I guess.”

“What’s that?”

“My mom looked really good with her tits out. So that gives me hope for the future.” Courtney smiled brightly.

Adore dissolved into giggles again. “You do have the hottest mom in the neighborhood,” she agreed.

“And you know, with my family, it could have been much more embarrassing. Did I tell you about last week when Kimmy came home from college and started asking me about masturbation at the dinner table?”

“What?!”

“Oh yeah. And mom’s just like ‘does anyone want more vegetables?’”

Adore shook her head. “Your family is so weird.”

“I know.” Courtney ran her fingers through Adore’s hair. “Hey, Dory?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about…like, what it’s like to have sex?”

“Um…I don't…” Adore was suddenly hyper-aware of Courtney’s leg pressed against hers, the smell of her apple shampoo. “I guess?”

“It seems kind of…violent. Don’t you think? Some boy just ramming his dick inside you? Like being stabbed.”

Adore swallowed. “Yeah, I mean, but it doesn’t have to be like that.” She trailed a hand down Courtney’s shoulders.

“I know, I know. If you love him and all. But still.”

Adore turned her face to look at her best friend, taking in her earnest green eyes. She laced their fingers together.

“Right. If you love him.”

“Dory?”

The sound of Courtney’s soft voice snapped Adore back into the present. “Yes?”

“I love you.” A tender kiss was pressed to the back of her neck.

“I love you too, Court.” Adore said, willing the tears not to fall from her eyes.

[tree-choose-pot]

Knock Knock, Anybody Home?

A big part of the reason I was excited about this trip was the chance to visit friends and family.  And as many can attest, I’m good at inviting myself over, often without much notice.  Covid-19 has put a bit of a damper on visits and public gatherings, but just about everyone we’ve crossed paths with has been open to a small gathering.  We’ve thoroughly enjoyed our friendly stopovers on our otherwise ‘road to nowhere.’

Our first visit was during our trial run to the California central coast.  We visited by brother and a friend I met in the laundry room in college. She is a traveler too and is always up for figuring out a get-together.  My kids adored her little girl and now ask to FaceTime with baby Faye.   My family stopped by our campsite, where the kids showed Uncles how to make a fire, and my family said “this looks fun... for maybe a week, not a year!”

Then, after officially packing up the RolyPoly but before pulling it out of the California storage lot, we flew to Arizona in June and rescued our good friends from quarantine, as they thanked us for being a good excuse—an out of town visitor—to all get together for a pool party, walks, and a moms’ night out.  I played golf with my Tucson golf buddy, we visited the kids’ favorite babysitter who is excitedly pregnant with her first, stopped to see our old neighbor, and went for a moonlit walk with a couple who always adored our kids, which turned into a lightning show, which lit the mountain on fire, which turned into one of Tucson’s worst-ever fires!  Yikes.  We really feel at home in Tucson, and were all very happy to see our friends.  We then had a 2nd special visit with Anina’s longest friend (they hung out as newborns in Tucson), when he and his dad were visiting grandparents at a summer lake home in Minnesota near where we were camping.  Such a treat!

Friends with these gals since we all had newborns.  We now each have a boy and a girl, and still go to each other for venting and advice.

BFFs on a SUP in MN.

When we changed our routing away from Covid- and protest-ridden Seattle and the closed borders of B.C. Canada, we found ourselves in Boise and called up an Air Force family that had retired the same time as Bill and had moved closer to family.  We had a fantastic catching up session and found they were also struggling with the decision of where to call home.  They invited us to a family 4th of July BBQ, complete with front yard fireworks, and we all loved every minute.  

We then were lone travelers traversing the mountains and Great Plains.  We met up with the above mentioned Tucson friend in central Minnesota, than timed our arrival in Door County, WI for the Sawicki family reunion I already blogged about.  After that we had our Campbell family reunion in Michigan, with Bill’s 2 brothers traveling up also to join in the fun.  Uncle D and Aunt C gives both kids plenty of love, attention, and fun gifts/activities whenever we visit!  Uncle C and his new wife are pet lovers and silly with the kids, and Uncle S spent 2 nights in the RolyPoly with us, which the kids just loved!   It was nice to spend a good chunk of time in Fremont, MI, to not only relax with family but also explore the town.   Our Michigan nephews are getting old, as one was about to start college, one high school, and one who lived with us a few years ago was also visiting from Texas.  Anina spent some time trying to figure out the odd behavior of teenagers.   

We also had wonderful visits with Bill’s two good high school friends, and his cousin’s ‘farm-tastic’ family.  They invited us to a barrel racing event they were hosting at their farm.  It was a fundraiser organized by his cousin’s daughter on her 16th birthday!  She and her brother are accomplished rodeo athletes (probably not the right term) and I’d say they’re great event planners too.  Anina and Benji were treated to a ride on one of the family’s race horses!  We just might like to come back for another Michigan summer!  

Watching his 11 year old ‘1st cousin once removed’ prepare the rodeo arena in Ravenna, MI.

Just two brothers playing ball with an up-an-coming star.

On our way out of Michigan, we visited some good friends from our Bogota days in their downtown Grand Rapids condo.  They’ve continued living and working abroad and have just returned for this crazy stateside 2020. The kids played with a basket of unique toys from around the world while we enjoyed a meal, memories, and conversation.

Our next stop turned into an unexpected stay-over in an Indiana front yard.  Bill’s good long-time friend invited us, as long as we brought her favorite breadsticks from Fremont, MI.  This family has a 5 yo boy and 8 yo girl, and a dog and a golf cart.   The kids were the friendliest, most fun playmates!  We just had to stay the night on their lawn.  We enjoyed wine and dinner around their fire pit, and after breakfast the next morning Anina did a little zoom school with her new kindergarten friend.  He lost his tooth sitting right next to her, which was super memorable for Anina too.

In New York and New Jersey, my over-age-65 family welcomed us despite Covid.  I deem our risk for infection to be low, but we were extra careful leading up to our visits.  I definitely still had some paranoia thanks to the “YOU’LL be OK, but you’re going to kill Grandma” paraphernalia.  We spent my Uncle’s birthday at a Long Island petting zoo (his wish!), and had many hours of fun playing with my cousins’ old trains, games, beanie babies, and legos.  My grandmother is hearing less and seeing less and constantly worrying that the children are going to fall, choke on something, or just implode for no reason, but I think we infused some joy into her quarantined life.   I’m sure glad we didn’t give her Covid, as I need all the future guardian angel grandparents I can get.   In New Jersey, we celebrated Anina’s birthday with my uncle’s homemade spaghetti and meatballs, and enjoyed some ‘comforts of home’ for a week or so, such as laundry, cable TV, and yard work!

These two know how to keep the kids’ attention!

Anina (heart) Cheeca.

Treated to ice cream by my dad’s cousin at Cape May’s Sunset Beach.

Unfortunately, we bypassed our many friends in the DC area, as I needed a break from pandemic visit anxiety.  So we started exploring the southeast for a potential home town.  We were welcomed by my mom’s cousin, aunt, and uncle (my grandfather’s brother), who all follow our travels on Facebook and are helping raise a 3 year old granddaughter.  My kids were pleased to have a kid day, with bubbles, cupcakes and a little girl’s room full of toys.  They live in Murrels Inlet, SC and began filling us in on alligators, flooding, and the slower pace of life (they’re New Yorkers)!

I’m sure I forgot to mention somebody, and I may add photos as I find them, but to sum it all up, we have loved our visits with familiar faces; it has been a very special part of our trip.  We are learning during this pandemic the importance of physical presence with other people.  Virtual visits are nice but I’ve always preferred real visits.  That’s right... I’ll drive 3,000 miles to see you!

[katedrakeohd]

Author's note: This is a continuation of Wacky Drabbles #5 no prompt just dinner conversation...

Just Desserts

Drake and Kate emerge from the laundry room a few minutes later. Wearing his damp bluejeans, Drake feels uncomfortable but at least he's dressed. Kate takes his hand and tugs, when he hesitates she whispers to him. “I promise to make it up to you later, now come on let's get this dinner over with.”

Drake whispers back with a grin, “I hope you're talking about dessert.”

Kate winks at him, “Yes, and I don’t mean apple pie.”

As they walk into the kitchen, Lorraine glances up from the plate she's loading up with pasta for herself. “What's that about pie? Not until you eat dinner first. You know the rules.”

Kate grins up at Drake and rolls her eyes. “You heard the Lady, no dessert until you've finished dinner.”

Drake winks back at her as he grabs his plate. “Well then it's a good thing I'm hungry.”

Stepping in behind Kate in line at the counter, Drake purposely stands a little too close. Kate sucks in a breath as she feels her body react involuntarily to his breath on the back of her neck. She's glad her blouse has long sleeves to hide the goosebumps rising on her skin. Glancing over her shoulder at him, she throws a little shade to tease him.

“Back it up buddy, besides you still smell like goose.”

Drake takes a step back raising his eyebrows, trading her shade for snark. “Ouch. Fine next time I'll just let the honking goose ruin everyone's evening.”

Carol laughs, “No..no. Believe me I'm very grateful for your help with shutting him up.”

After scooping spaghetti and meatballs onto his plate, Drake grins as he sits down across the table from Kate. “See? My partner in Clem's rescue appreciates me, goose smell or not.”

Lorraine shakes her head, “Ok everyone let's all behave and enjoy our dinner.”

Kate quirks an eyebrow at Drake from across the table, he smirks back at her as she puts salad into her bowl. Let the games begin.

They all eat in silence for a few minutes and then Lorraine speaks up, “Oh Carol, didn't you bring wine home to go with dinner?”

When Carol gets up from the table to retrieve the two bottles of wine from the counter, Drake and Kate exchange a look across the table.

They've held onto their secret long enough. Kate drops a hint, “I suppose we do have something to celebrate. Drake isn't much of a wine drinker, but he's welcome to have a glass for me.”

Everyone turns to look at Lorraine when she drops her fork, “Katherine, since when do you not drink wi-…Oh my goodness, you're not serious?”

Kate nods, her eyes shining with happiness. “We are.”

Carol opens the bottle of white wine with a pop of the cork. “So you've already been to the Doctor?”

Lorraine holds out her wine glass for Carol to fill. Drake holds his out as well as he answers. “No, but we have an appointment scheduled for when we go back to Valtoria.”

“Valtoria? I thought your country was called Cordonia.” Lorraine says looking over to Drake.

“Oh it is. Valtoria is the name of our Duchy.” Kate answers for him.

Lorraine twirls spaghetti around her fork. “I still can't believe my little Kath- ..Kate is a Duchess. You've come a long way from the girl I knew, making mud pies in the backyard, all pigtails and missing her front teeth.”

Carol chuckles from the other end of the table, “And I can't believe Lorraine is going to be a grandmother.”

Lorraine frowns at Carol, “Oh hush you, not that I doubt that Kate's pregnant, but I choose to live in denial until I see baby pictures. I'm too young to be a grandmother.”

Drake spears a meatball with his fork, “That's what my Mom said wh- ..”

Lorraine interrupts him, “Hold on a minute. You told his Mother first?”

“I thought you were in denial Mom. No we haven't told her yet. His sister surprised her with a little boy of her own.” Kate chuckles.

Drake, who has his mouthful, nods in agreement. Pointing his fork at Kate.

“Ok well, as long as you told me about your baby first, that's all that matters.” Lorraine says, picking up her wine glass.

Carol turns the conversation off of babies for a moment, “So Kate, where did you first meet your dashing Duke?”

Glancing across the table at her husband, Kate wonders which part to answer first. The Duke part or the Drake part.

Drake answers for her, “Actually we met in New York city, at my best friend's bachelor party. We walked into Kate's bar, and after that all matter of chaos happened.”

Kate nearly chokes on her spaghetti. “If you mean me returning to Cordonia with you guys, well you can blame Maxwell for that.”

Drake picks up his wine glass, giving Kate a wink before bringing it to his lips. “Neither I nor Cordonia were ready for the likes of Kate.”

“I literally came in like a wrecking ball.” Kate laughs. “Breaking and stealing hearts as I went.”

Chasing the pasta around her plate, Lorraine nods. “I believe it. Kate's a firecracker when she wants to be.”

“As for the Duke part, I met him at the altar. He married a Duchess to gain his title.” Kate says.

Carol raises her eyebrows, “And how did you become a Duchess?”

“By turning down a King's proposal.” Drake answers, “He kind of gave her the Duchy as a consolation prize.”

“So you could have been Queen?” Lorraine asks incredulously.

Kate looks across the table at Drake, “I didn't want to be Queen, because I was in love with someone else.”

“Sucks to be him, but it was definitely a win win for me.” Drake says, looking up from his plate to give Kate a smoldering glance, his eyes dark.

Kate feels the heat rush to her cheeks and to her core simultaneously, ok now I'm ready for dessert. Sitting back in her chair, Kate pretends to stifle a yawn behind her napkin. “I'm so sorry. I guess I'm still on Cordonian time.”

Drake looks back down with a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. Picking up his glass of wine he tips it back and finishes it. Laying his utensils across his plate, he looks over to Lorraine with a satisfied smile. “Thank-you for dinner it was quite delicious. I miss sitting down with family like this. Between our weeks in Texas with my Mom on her ranch and this night with your hospitality we've been spoiled during our time in the U.S.”

“You spent weeks in Texas? And you give me a day?” Lorraine asks, her tone harsh.

Kate tips her head back and closes her eyes, wishing she had a glass of wine of her own right about now. When was she going to stop questioning everything we’ve done as if we were hiding things from her. She's so darn hung up on everyone's business. No wonder I couldn't wait to get out on my own after Dad left.

Drake can't help but notice Kate's frustration with her Mom's defensive nature. He glances at Carol, who just rolls her eyes at him. Time to shut down this dinner and move on. Folding his arms across his chest he turns back toward Lorraine with a stern frown.

“Yes, we were in Texas for my sister's wedding. Between the bachelor and bachelorette parties, the cattle sale and the wedding planning it took longer than we expected. Things weren't exactly under our control. This time around Kate and I were chosen to attend an Environmental Summit in Seattle as diplomats representing our country, and it was only a three day trip. We chose to spend our last day with you because Kate wanted to catch you up on the significant changes in her life. We're sorry we couldn't invite you to our wedding, Lorraine. Our engagement only lasted a month and with assassins threatening us from all sides it wasn't exactly a stress free time. We were lucky to survive the whole thing, so get off your fucking high horse and give us a break.”

Lorraine goes pale, eyes wide in shock at being put in her place. Carol raises her eyebrows, sucking in a breath. She speaks up, attempting to cut the sudden tension in the room.

“Alrighty then, shall we have pie?”

After everyone gets up from the table, bringing their dishes to the counter, Lorraine gently pulls Kate aside into the hallway.

With her eyes cast low she whispers. “I'm sorry Katherine. Please forgive me.”

Pulling her Mom into a hug, Kate whispers back. “I forgive you. I'm sorry for excluding you from such a big chapter of my life. I won't do it again.”

“I'm going to be a grandmother. I really am proud of you, you know that right?” Lorraine whispers, her eyes wet with happy tears.

Stepping back, Kate wipes tears of her own, nodding. “I know.”

“Please tell Drake I'm sorry. Since your father left I…” her face falls, unable to finish her sentence, she looks down at the floor.

“It's ok Mom, I understand.” Kate reaches out and rubs her arms, giving her a smile of encouragement. “Now come on let's get some pie before Drake and Carol eat it all.”

Lorraine chuckles, wiping her eyes again. “Just give me a moment to compose myself, Ok? I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes.”

Kate pulls her Mom into another hug, and then lets her go. “Ok.”

Lorraine turns down the hall and disappears into the powder room, and Kate sucks in a deep breath and returns to the kitchen.

Drake looks up from helping Carol load the dishwasher when Kate comes back in the room. Kate walks over and steps into his arms. Drake mumbles into her hair by her ear. “I..I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break your Mom.”

Kate steps back, slapping him on the arm. “Ow! I said I was sorry.” Drake rubs at his arm. “Don't forget that Bertrand shot me during the bachelor party.”

Carol laughs as she closes the dishwasher. “Oh my goodness you two are something else.”

Kate slips her arms around Drake's waist, he wraps his arms around her again and kisses her on top of the head. Kate chuckles as she closes her eyes and rests her cheek against his shoulder. “Oh you have no idea.”

Lorraine quietly steps into the kitchen, she clears her throat to get everyone's attention. “Um, it's getting late. So why don't we change for bed and then we'll take pie into the living room and relax a little before we retire for the night.”

Kate and Drake exchange a glance. “We don't have a change of clothes, our luggage is back in Seattle.” Kate replies.

“I’m sure we can find some sort of sleepwear for you Kate, but for Drake probably not.” Lorraine says apologetically.

Drake shrugs, “I don't usually wear pyjamas anyway.”

“You'll want your clothes laundered for tomorrow though, because you know, Clem.” Kate says.

“If you'd like, we could do the same for your clothes too Kate if you’d like.” Carol offers.

Kate looks down at her clothes, her blouse was dry clean only, but her skirt and undergarments were certainly washable. “Ok, I'll get my clothes washed too.”

Lorraine claps her hands, “Oh splendid! Alright then. I'll let you two have the master bedroom for the night. Drake you know where the laundry room is, Kate come with me and we'll find you something comfy to lounge in.”

Drake's mouth drops open as Kate, Lorraine and Carol leave him alone and go get changed for bed.

Continues here

..

Tagging:

Wacky Drabblers: @jessiembruno @brightpinkpeppercorn @jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @bobasheebaby @burnsoslow @emceesynonymroll @bbrandy2002

@qween-corgis @jlpplays1

[keishiko]

refuge

Black Widow joins the men formerly known as Captain America and the Winter Soldier in hiding after the events of “Civil War”.

(because I’m still in denial that “Endgame” has happened 😑)

[Oneshot ~2,000 words  |  Rated PG-13  |  Hurt, Comfort / Romance (Natasha x Steve)] [Revised from an early FFnet piece] 

[Part Two here]  [Optional companion piece “Into Infinity” here]

A little salt, a lot of pepper.  After another look at her notes, Natasha slid a minced onion into the bowl and cracked in an egg, followed by a sprinkle of flour. “The best way to do it is really to use your hands.”  His near-whisper teased the fine hairs at her neck.  Natasha instinctively tensed as his arm encircled her, but he merely guided her hands with his directly onto the meat mixture.  Calloused fingers entwined sensually through hers as she began to knead the ingredients together, hesitant in her inexperience. “Now you don’t wanna overwork it,” purred Bucky in her ear.  Natasha felt the heat radiating from his body as he stood directly behind her, all implacable, immovable muscle.  “You don’t want the meat to get tough.” Natasha smiled at the memory as she shaped the meat mixture between her hands.  The Winter Soldier, smelling of garlic and parsley, passing on to her his grandmother’s recipe.  Formerly shooting her through the kidney just to murder the asset under her watch.  How times changed.  Glancing at the clock, she set out a pan. “The carrots were my nonna’s secret, so you have to swear never to tell anybody else.”  His face was dangerously close to hers, his smile sly, his blue eyes mock-serious. “How in the world does James Buchanan Barnes have a nonna?" teased Natasha, acutely conscious of the scant inch of heated space between them as she stirred the sauce.  “And I still don’t see why I can’t just buy some at the supermarket...” “You’re killin’ me.”  His hand closed over hers, over the wooden spoon.  Natasha smothered a laugh as they began to stir together.  “Here I am entrusting to you the deepest, darkest secrets my grandma took with her to her very grave—she was my grandpa's second wife, I'll have you know, it was quite the scandal at the time—and now you’re saying you’d rather get storebought—” “Buck.” Natasha hid a grin as they both looked toward the figure suddenly looming in the doorway.  Steve pretended to lounge, but she easily read the taut lines along his jaw, down his neck, across his shoulders.  “Everything’s set up.  We fly out day after tomorrow.” Bucky’s smile was strained.  “Right.  Got it.” Smirking, Steve cocked an eyebrow at Nat.  “This guy bothering you?” “Not at all, soldier.”  And Bucky’s chuckle behind her raised goosebumps along her shoulder. They’d been like children, she mused, the two of them constantly joking and bickering so that she had to pointedly ignore them to get anything done.  Things hadn’t been quite so relaxed when she’d suddenly shown up on their doorstep that rainy night: Bucky had been wary and Steve had just smiled, utterly unsurprised.  She hadn’t been sure how to act or what to expect.  But Steve had invited her in, told her to make herself at home.  And despite herself, she had stayed. She hummed a little as she lifted the lid over the pot, let steam billow past.  The noodles she spun into the bubbling water, just as Bucky had taught her. She had simply watched that first evening when he wordlessly set about preparing dinner in the kitchen.  More curious than anything else, she had sat down at the table while he laid out some things he’d bought at the market earlier that day: sausages, vegetables, a dozen plums.  The man liked himself some plums.  Munching on a peanut butter sandwich, Nat had looked on as he picked out some more produce and found in a drawer the lone kitchen knife available in the sparsely furnished rental.  He’d begun to hone the kitchen knife, running it in slow, measured strokes across the bottom rim of a coffee mug, when he stopped and glanced up at her through long, inky lashes.  The blade glinted in his hand. “I’m not makin’ you nervous, am I?” After a moment, she’d met his smile with one of hers.  “Not at all.” If Steve trusted him, she would too. He still spoke with a Brooklyn drawl, she’d decided later that night, as Bucky’s spontaneous cooking demonstration led to conversation over glasses of cheap supermarket wine.  After Steve rejoined them from a meeting he’d had in the city, he and Bucky had competed to embarrass each other with increasingly lurid stories from their childhood and Natasha had laughed until she cried.   When Steve managed to drop his perfect diction, she remembered, he lapsed into that Brooklyn drawl too. She found herself smiling from the memory even as she glanced again at the clock.  Tucking a stray strand of newly blond hair out of the way, she hefted the pot over the sink to drain the pasta. She hadn’t had to come here.  She could have gone somewhere else.  She probably would have been better off somewhere else, too, on her own where she knew the terrain better, could access more resources to lie low.  She was, after all, now one of the world’s most wanted, just like them.  She hadn’t had to end up in this life, piecing together meals from printed-out recipes and Youtube tutorials, the reluctant picture of domesticity for lack of much else to do.  Yet here she was, frying up meatballs when she would have been perfectly content with another scrounged-up sandwich. The truth was, that night when she’d left the Avengers compound, she’d known exactly where she wanted to go. It wasn’t lust, she told herself.  And Steve would blush all over and jump out of a plane parachuteless before he seduced anyone.  Nat knew plenty of handsome men, as well as charming ones, sweet ones, dull ones, and smart ones like Tony Stark; men who knew their way around women and men who fell at her feet helpless.  By and large they were a blur to her, tried to use her, tried to keep her.  Even in the freedom she had gained when she defected, even when she could have opted for a new and normal life, she had found little in them to interest her.  They were all much the same, even Tony who was just a little smarter, worked just a little harder to stay on the side of the angels, for which reason she still more or less respected him.  Even though, like so many others, he still hadn’t been able to let go of his ego in the end. No, it wasn’t lust, even though she with her assassin’s eye could always appreciate the steel of a finely tuned muscle, the sleek lines of a well-developed body. But how else could she explain how she gravitated toward him?  The wordless, thoughtless, almost instinctual urge to be at his side, support him, protect him at all costs—she had given up trying to resist it, simply gave in to it, and the seamless rhythm of their combined fighting styles thrilled her every time.  But why she was here, now, toiling at a stove in the middle of nondescript suburbia and watching the clock like a... like a wife waiting for her husband to come home? He was, for that matter, increasingly late.  Natasha resisted the impulse to Google flight arrival times and instead began to fill the dishwasher.  She was just pouring herself a self-congratulatory glass of wine—she had only almost burned the garlic, after all—when she heard the telltale step on the sidewalk four floors down and pretended to ignore the sudden heat in her chest.  She was already pouring another glass of wine when the door swung open. “About damn time,” she called out as he shut and locked the door behind him.  “I hope you’re hungry.” “I probably am.”  He slumped into the couch and groaned, leaning his head back, stretching out his legs on top of the battered coffee table.  “Economy was terrible.” “Told you to try and borrow the jet.”  She slapped at his knees, one by one, and he obediently lowered his feet back to the floor.  She turned on some music.  “How was Wakanda?”  She placed a bowl of spaghetti in front of him. “It was good.  Beautiful country.  You should meet Shuri sometime.”  He paused, closing his eyes with a sigh.  “They put Bucky back under.” She longed to touch him.  Instead she sat back, curled her fingers around her wineglass.  She would miss hearing Bucky’s soft-spoken drawl.  “I’m sorry that had to happen.”  Her voice caught and she cleared her throat, then pushed his wineglass toward him in silent suggestion. “Well, I’m sure they’ll get him better soon.”  His tone was wistful, his expression clouded as he absent-mindedly took his first bite.  Halfway through chewing, he stopped and chuckled.  “I’m glad he got around to teaching you his grandma’s spaghetti first, though.” Natasha allowed herself a smile.  “He told me you used to love it, every time you came around.” “Yeah.”  Steve stared stoically down at nothing for a moment, and Nat knew he was battling tears.  “Yeah, I did.” He was too pure for her, she concluded, as Banner hadn’t been.  Banner, she’d wanted.  Somebody who felt damaged as she did, somebody who knew what it was like to fear and distrust and regret oneself, all at the same time.  In her loneliness she had been drawn to him, the man who was also unhappily the Hulk, a kindred spirit amidst her isolation; she’d craved what Banner had promised of understanding, of sympathy, of sameness. Banner she’d wanted.  But Rogers, she knew, she needed.  He was crystal clarity, certain and absolute.  He was, as he said, always honest.  More than that, he was unambivalent, unequivocal, uncompromising.  In this, as recent events had proved, he was even lonelier than her.  And although he had cut out the bright white star from the center of his uniform, uncomfortable about what it represented, for Natasha who had long since outgrown the need to believe in anything it had already taken on a different meaning.   Her pole star.  Her true north. Bruce had signified comfort.  But Steve gave her a direction, a purpose.  Even if, for now, it was only to make his favorite dinner on the night he came back alone, having left behind his best friend in all the world in a country twenty hours away by plane with not nearly enough legroom. He looked up as she refilled his glass without asking and left the bottle on the table.  Natasha smiled into shadowed blue eyes.  “I’ll clean up.” He protested less than usual.  Nat put away the food and dishes and came back to find his feet on the coffee table again and his head flopped backward in sleep.  The bottle on the table was empty. She brought him a blanket, not that he needed it.  She refused to admit that she had missed him.  She told herself he probably hadn’t missed her.  She tucked the blanket around him carefully, opting this time to leave his feet propped up on the table in peace. She glanced up to find him watching her, eyes dark, hair askew. She kissed him tentatively, telling herself it was the wine, knowing she wasn’t drunk, knowing he couldn’t be.  Even as she tasted the softness of his lips she cursed herself for what she’d dared to do, felt his hand on her wrist and braced herself— —but then he leaned up into her, his arm tightening around her waist and his mouth meeting hers with an urgency that flamed low in her belly.  He was tired, she reminded herself, tired and sad and so very alone, and she understood.  She had done more for far lesser men.  He kissed her so hard they both gasped for breath and then she laughed shakily, catching hold of his arm when he started to pull away. “Nat—”  Already he was apologetic. “You said once,” she interrupted, “you wanted me to be a friend.”  She resisted the longing to kiss him again just yet.  She would not seduce him.  “Will you let me?  Be a friend?” He exhaled.  His fingers splayed up her back, dug into her skin.  He could break her in a single movement.  “Nat...” She kissed him again.  She didn’t need to hear that he was sorry.  In the morning she could tell him she was, too. Part Two here

[millenialpeasant]

Meatballs, and an Introduction

INTRODUCTION:

The year is 2020, and we are Millenials.  This is a term bandied about by Boomers and Gen X’rs to infantalise us, but it is also OUR Generation and OUR term.  The economy is dying, we all work 3 jobs, none of us have time to cook, but also can’t afford to eat out all the time.  And to top it off half of us dont even know how to cook, and using services like Hello Fresh and Blue Apron to help us learn skills we should have learned in Home Economics leads to derision and snark about how we can’t even be bothered to do our own grocery shopping. 

I love to cook.  I was a latchkey kid who was cooking dinner about twice a week since high school.  I also had a grandmother who loved to bake and valued a nice meal presentation, a trait which passed on to me.  I’m one of the lucky ones, and I’m grateful for that. there were times in my 20′s where my entire grocery budget was about $20 to feed myself for a week.  You learn about 30 different ways to prepare eggs and about 10 ways to doctor up Ramen Noodles or you go mad with food boredom.  

I love to cook but so many websites with amazing recipes assume you have access to fresh herbs, uncommon ingredients, and have 8 hours to let homemade stock simmer (I can’t even remember the last time I was home, in the day, for 8 hours straight)  So you find shortcuts, cost hacks, and rework recipes to work with the tools you have at hand.  you learn which tools are a godsend (food procesor) and which tools are basically fancy garbage (looking at you quesidilla maker).  This Blog will be a collection of the various recipes I’ve tweaked over the years, as well as cooking tips and tricks to get the most bang for your buck, or how to make food prep actually work around a busy schedule.  My hope is that someone, somewhere finds this blog and gets inspired to give real cooking another shot.  It’s cheaper, healthier, and a skill we should all have, so grab a mixing bowl, we are gonna make some meatballs.

ABOUT THE RECIPE:

so I wanted to start with this recipe for a couple of reasons.  1) It’s stupid easy, just put it all in the bowl and mix.  2)It makes a masssive amount of meatballs, especially if you live alone or only have 1-2 other people eating.   And 3) it’s cheeeeeap.  You can feed up to 10 people on $20 with this recipe if you do your shopping at Aldi or similar cheaper stores.  There are also no fancy techniques to worry about (although I will include Advanced Technique tips where applicable, all of my recipes will taste fine without the extra steps)

Every recipe generally wants you to pull out and pre measure all of your ingredients before you start cooking.  You should do this if posible, but when you are working in a tiny galley kitchen, or only own 2 bowls and 1 cutting board, you have to cut some corners.  To make life easier, I will seperate the ingredients into steps, in case you need to be able to measure things and put them straight into the bowl.

THE RECIPE:

Step 1

Preheat oven to 350*F

Step 2

Put all of the following into a large mixing bowl:

~3lb ground beef ( I use the super cheap “meat log” 3 lb packs at the grocery store, but better beef means better meatballs.  you can also use ground turkey, ground sausage, anything you like in any combination, but for the sake of cost cutting, I will be sticking with the meat log for now) ~2 large eggs ~3/4 C Italian Bread Crumbs  ~1 TBS Garlic Powder ~1 tsp Garlic Salt (this might seem redundant but I’ve tried different combinations of salt and garlic and this was universally the best way to get the right ratio)  ~1 tsp Onion Powder ~1 1/2 TBS Italian Seasoning ~1 TBS Red Pepper Flakes (these make mild-to-medium spicy meatballs.  use spicy sausage, or add more red pepper flake for spicier meatballs, or omit red pepper for very mild, kid friendly meatballs) ~1/2 tsp Salt ~1 tsp Pepper

Step 3

Wash your hands and start mixing all that goodness together.  Use your hands, not a spoon, as a wooden spoon is more likely to overwork the meatballs, making them tough and weird.  Just hand mix like you are mixing together playdough, and wash your hands both before and after.  If you are squeamish, then you can always wear latex gloves if you prefer.

Step 4

Once the mixture looks uniform, begin making walnut sized balls by pinching off a bit and rolling between your palms.  For consistency, I like to make 1 ball and set it aside as a “template” to follow, otherwise I find my meatballs keep slowly getting larger and larger as I get impatient and just want to get these in the oven.  

Arrage your meatballs on a broiler pan with drainage, close to each other but not touching.  If you dont have one of those, then grab the aluminum foil and line a baking pan and use that instead.  You will have to manually drain off the grease at the end, but at least the foil makes cleanup way easier.

Advanced Tip: For better flavor, you can brown the outside of your meatballs in a frying pan for a few minutes per side before putting in the oven to finish cooking.  the browing give them a richer taste.  

Step 5

Bake at 350*F for 12-15 minutes.  To confirm doneness, you can insert a meat thermometer into the largest meatball (aim for a temp around 155-160*) or cut one in half with a fork and check.  you want meatballs that are ALMOST done, with just a tiny hint of pink in the middle.  Drain off any grease needed and remove meatballs from the pan.

Step 6

This step is where you start asking yourself “Well, I’ve got meatballs, now what?”

I’m a big fan of Spaghetti with my balls, so at this point I’d be opening 2 jars (trust me, 1 will not be enough) of your favorite grocery store red sauce, and pouring them into a large sauce pan, or even a pasta pot if you have an extra.  Add a bit of extra salt and pepper to taste, as well as a bit of garlic and maybe some more Italian Seasoning.  It really depends on personal taste and what your base sauce starts as, so add small amounts until it tastes right to you.  Remember that you can always add more, but you can’t remove it once it’s in there.  once your  sauce is right,  add your meatballs and cover.  Let the sauce/balls mixture simmer on medium-low heat while you make your pasta.  Give it a stir every few minutes to make sure nothing is sticking and that the flavors distribute properly

Advanced Tip:  you can always make Meatballs ahead of time and freeze them once they are out of the oven.  To reheat just put them into the sauce and let them simmer until the internal temp of the meatballs is around 165* F.  You can also thrown them into a slow cooker with the sauce and let the flavors build all day while you are at work. Step 7

Boil your pasta according to box directions and serve the meatballs on a bed of that beautiful spaghetti.  Alternativly you can instead make meatball sandwhiches by spooning some sauce and balls onto a nice deli roll of your choice, maybe topping with some parmesean or mozzerella if you have it handy.

[39isabop-blog]

Sail Away Sweet Sister, Part 1

Roger and you (Brian’s little sister) want to get married, but you insist on asking for Brian’s blessing. For @fredthelegend‘s #ftlchallenge. 

Warnings: Mentions of sex

Word Count: 1100

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Roger, it’d mean the world to me if you’d just ask him,” you insist.

“He’d never say yes. You’re his little sister, and he just sees me as his irresponsible friend, nothing more,” Roger replies.

He sits up in bed, just wearing his boxers. He gives his blonde mane a shake and you giggle softly at his bedhead. “Then why did we even start to date in the first place?” you ask.

“Because you’re irresistible. Because you’re adorable. And because you’re nothing like your brother,” Roger leans over you, kissing you between every sentence.

He was right. Brian was analytical and left-brained. He was a problem solver, completely dependable. You were the artsy one, the one who lived without boundaries. The only thing you had in common with Brian was looks. You shared the height, the massive head of curls, and your mother’s stunning eyes. In fact, from behind, the band often mistook you for Brian when you dropped by. But other than that, you were nothing like Brian.

“Roger, if I’m going to say yes to a proposal, you have to ask Brian,” you say, poking a finger into his bare chest sternly.

“I never said I wouldn’t ask. I said he probably wouldn’t give us his blessing. Why don’t you just want me to ask your dad?”

“Because you’re Brian’s bandmate! It would mean so much to him, and it’d prove that you can be thoughtful. After all, I wouldn’t have even met you without him,” you say.

Roger groaned, but he knew you were right. It was the right thing to do, and Brian would love it. “Alright, when should I ask him?”

“Well,” you twirled a curl around your finger, “I’ve kinda already asked him over for dinner tonight.”

Roger’s face drops. “What? He doesn’t even know that we live together!”

“I guess he’ll have to figure that out for himself then,” you shrug.

Roger immediately hops out of bed to begin tidying your apartment. He shoves shirts into drawers and throws shoes into the closet. You just laugh, “He’s not coming into our bedroom!”

“He just might when he finds out that there’s only one!” Roger squeaks, clearly panicked.

You climb out of bed and hug Roger from behind and kiss his shoulder. “He lives with his girlfriend. That’s clearly fine with him, and I don’t see why he wouldn’t be fine with us doing the exact same thing.”

“But then he’ll know we’ve slept together! That I’ve slept with his little sister!” Roger nearly shrieks.

“Why are you suddenly worried about it? You were fine last night. He knows you’re no prude, and as for me, it’s just what couples do. Rog, you need to calm down. Let me start breakfast.”

You leave Roger to himself in your bedroom and you go to fix some eggs and coffee. Just as you set down a plate for Roger, he emerges from your bedroom. He’s wearing his wireframe glasses, something he’ll only do around you. “You need to wear those more often. It makes you look smart,” you say with a smile.

“Are you saying I look stupid without them?” Roger laughs.

“No, all I’m saying is that maybe you wouldn’t run into things as often.” You sit down at the table across from Roger, clutching your mug of coffee.

Roger does agree to wear his glasses for the rest of the day, since it helps him see what he’s doing. You’ve never seen Roger so much as lift a dish towel, but here he is, frantically sweeping and dusting your tiny apartment. He buzzes around like a bee, fluffing pillows and stacking books. While Roger cleans, you prepare dinner. You decide to make spaghetti and meatballs, but you keep the meatballs separate since Brian won’t eat them.

You and Roger are nearly exhausted by the time Brian comes over. You hear a knock at the door and nudge Roger to answer it. “Does he even know I’m here?” he hisses in panic.

Roger finally opens the front door and lets Brian in. “Roger, what a surprise! I thought it would be a night in with my sweet sister, but I’m glad to see you,” Brian slaps Roger on the back.

“Brian!” you dash across the apartment with your arms spread to give him a massive hug.

“God, it feels like forever, sis,” Brian says as he hugs you. “What smells so good?”

You tell him what’s for dinner and bring him into the living room. “Before we eat, Roger needs to talk to you,” you elbow Roger in the ribs.

“Uh, yeah. I have to ask you something,” Roger mumbles.

“Christ, Roger, your face is white. Something must be wrong. Let’s sit down,” Brian says, sinking into your sofa.

You sit next to Brian and Roger sits on the coffee table cross-legged. “Brian, I need to ask you something.”

Brian laughs nervously, his eyelashes fluttering, “Yeah, what?”

“Y/N have been seeing each other for some time now, and we’d like to take it to the next level. I’m asking your permission to propose to her,” Roger explains.

“Oh,” Brian says softly. He glances at you, “Is this true?”

You nod, your curls that are so similar to his bobbing with your head. “Yep. One hundred percent.”

Brian takes your hand in his and reaches for Roger’s hand. “I knew you two were perfect for each other. Of course I’m going to say yes. Why would I stand in your way?”

Roger lets out an enormous sigh of relief, “I thought you’d be miffed that I was banging your sister.”

“Goddammit, Roger!” you say, jokingly slapping his shoulder. “You ruined a perfectly good sentimental moment.”

Roger got up from the coffee table and dashed into your bedroom. “Hey, Bri? Mind following me?” he asked.

Brian got up and followed Roger into your bedroom. You heard rummaging and Brian murmuring, “That’s perfect!”

Roger emerges from the bedroom smiling sheepishly, Brian right behind him. “Y/N,” Roger says, struggling to get on one knee in your tiny living room, “Will you marry me?”

He opens a box to reveal an emerald ring surrounded by tiny diamonds. You gasp, “Roger! Yes!”

Roger takes your hand and slips the ring on. “It was my grandmother’s. She and my grandpa were married for sixty years. I figured it was lucky,” he explains.

You both sink on to the sofa and Roger wraps his arms around you. You’re nearly in tears, but they’re tears of joy. Brian clears his throat, “I’ll let Freddie know that he has a party to plan.”

[badchoosey]

Rules of Engagement, Book One. Chapter 1: The Heiress

Crew Member: Welcome to Ember of the Sea, the pinnacle of luxury cruise ships. Are you ready to embark on the summer of a lifetime? Sorry, they make me say that. Let me help you with your bags, Miss…? Juicy? You’re part of the group Mr. Singh has been waiting for. Right this way. From what I hear, you’re about to get some very interesting news. Have a seat. Trust me, this is a lot more scenic than our meeting rooms. I’ll tell him you’re here.

You take a seat at the pool bar and gaze out across the ship’s deck to the ocean.

Juicy: … Gorgeous.

???: I was just thinking the same thing. Can I get you a drink, beautiful?

Juicy: Do I look like I want you hitting on me?

???: Ha ha, slow down! I’m just doing my job.

Juicy: Oh! You’re the bartender.

???: Yep. But my friends call me Dog. So, what brings you to our corner of the ocean?

Juicy: Actually, it’s a bit of a mystery. I’m supposed to meet my grandmother’s lawyer here.

Dog: A lawyer, eh? Sounds like you could use that drink. What’ll you have?

Dog hands you a cocktail menu.

Dog: You know, I can tell a lot about a woman by her drink order.

Juicy: Whiskey on the rocks.

Dog: Interesting choice…

Juicy: Oh yeah? What does my drink say about me?

Dog: That you keep things simple.

He slides a tumbler of caramel-colored whiskey across the bar. You take a sip.

Dog: How is it?

Juicy: ...Perfect.

Dog nods and turns to help another customer. Suddenly, you feel someone come up behind you and wrap you in a big hug!

???: Sis! You’re finally here! Are you ready to get crazy tonight?

Juicy: Couture! I can’t believe you’re thinking about partying at a time like this. Aren’t you even a little curious about this mysterious meeting with the lawyer?

Couture: Sure… but that didn’t stop you from flirting with Mr. Hot Bartender!

Juicy: We were just talking.

Couture: Yeah, you’re way too slavish… er… loyal to your guy. I mean, I never liked him, but he is your fiance. Speaking of which, shouldn’t he be here right now?

Juicy: It’s a long story.

Couture: Sounds boring. I say, forget him. Let’s kick this cruise off right! A toast!

Couture snags a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter.

Juicy: Let’s toast to family.

Couture: You always were the sweet one. To family!

You clink your glass with Couture’s and drink. As Couture downs hers, your attention is caught by a professional looking man in a crisp suit.

Dinesh: Ahem. Excuse me, ladies. I’m Dinesh Singh, and I have some paperwork for you to attend to…

Couture: Oh! You must be Nana’s… I mean, Grandma’s lawyer.

Dinesh: Precisely. Thank you for meeting me here. I know it’s highly unusual.

Couture: You mean highly awesome. I can’t believe Nana’s last wish was for us to take this cruise together. I mean, it would be way more awesome if she were here…

Dinesh: From my short time knowing her, it was clear that this summer trip was very important to her. I imagine she wanted you to enjoy your time together, as she did when she was your age on this cruise.

Juicy: Right. Nana never wanted us to worry about her. I miss her so much…

Dinesh: I have something that might just help with that. She left each of you a letter. I also have letters for your other two siblings and cousin when they arrive.

Couture: Oh, they’re running late. You may as well give us ours now.

Mr. Singh hands you each a sealed envelope. You stare at it for a moment.

Juicy: Wow, her last words to us… Couture, do you think we should do something special, like…

Turning, you see Couture has already ripped her letter open and begun reading it.

Couture: Oh. My. God. Juicy, open your envelope now!

You open the envelope…

Nana’s Letter: My dearest Juicy, I hope you’ll forgive me for keeping this from you, but I’ve seen wealth ruin many happy families, and I never wanted that for my children or grandchildren. But now that I’m gone, I want you to know the truth. And I hope you’ll honor my last wishes and find happiness from them.

Juicy: Wait, what does this mean?

Dinesh: Your grandmother was a very, very wealthy woman… And she’s left a $500 million fortune to split among you, your three siblings, and your cousin…

Couture: That’s… $100 million each! We’re rich!

Juicy: I can’t believe this is actually happening…

Dinesh: I assure you, this is very real.

Juicy: I could hire Ryan Gosling to be my butler!

Couture: Ooh, I want Channing Tatum! We can make them wash our cars! Okay, lawyer. I’m ready for my money now. I’ll take it in twenties…

Dinesh: Actually… your grandmother left you each specific instructions for how to receive your inheritance.

Juicy: Instructions?

Dinesh: They’re detailed in the letters.

You and Couture turn to the second page.

Couture: Oh no. This is bad. Here, look…

Nana’s Letter: Dearest Couture, You’ve never learned the value of hard work. To get your inheritance, you must keep a job on board the ship for the entire summer.

Couture: Nana’s making me work for this money! Didn’t she love me at all?

Juicy: Come on, you know Nana adored all of us. She practically raised us after Mom and Dad…

Couture: Yeah, except my life was all student loans and instant ramen when it could’ve been private jets and solid-gold Ferraris. Besides, it���s going to be impossible for me to do her task. Are you sure there aren’t any exceptions?

Dinesh: Unfortunately not. Your grandmother was very specific with the wording in her will.

Couture: But how am I even supposed to get a job here?

Dinesh: Arrangements have been made for you to work in the ship’s finest restaurant, Nomade. You start this week.

Couture: This week?! At least Juicy’s going to be there with me, right?

You read the rest of your letter…

Nana’s letter: Juicy, you’ve already found the love of your life. I know you’ve always struggled with being decisive and making commitments, so I want to help you overcome that. At the end of the summer, when the cruise reaches its final port, an elegant wedding has been prepared for you and your beloved fiance. You only need to make your vows to earn your share.

Couture: Pfft. That’s easy! You’ve got it made!

Juicy: Maybe not… Couture, can we talk in private?

Dinesh: I’ll take my leave. Should you have any questions, your grandmother stipulated that I stay on the ship for the duration of the summer to see her wishes carried out.

As Mr. Singh walks away, you and Couture head toward your cabin.

Couture: Okay, we’re alone now. Spill.

Juicy: It happened last night. My fiance...Dank… he had to work late at his startup and I finished packing for the cruise early… So I decided to surprise him with his favorite dinner.

Twelve hours earlier…

You walk into Dank’s startup office, holding a bag of takeout.

Juicy: (It’s so dark in here…)

???: Oooh, Dank! Yes!

Juicy: Hello? Dank?

You fumble for the switch and turn on the lights!

You see Dank on the couch… with a half-naked girl on top of him!

Half-Naked Girl: Uh, a little privacy please?

Juicy: Privacy?!

Dank: Juicy!

Half-Naked Girl: Ohh… You’re Juicy… This must be like, really sad for you.

Juicy: That’s one of the things I’m feeling.

Dank: I thought you were packing! What are you doing here?

You clench the takeout bag in your hand.

Juicy: Here’s your dinner!

You hurl the container at them, and it bursts open, sending spaghetti and meatballs flying! One smacks Dank right in the face!

Dank: Hey!

Half-Naked Girl: Eek!

With tears filling your eyes, you turn… and run.

Juicy: And that’s what happened.

Couture: Yikes. You caught your fiance cheating on you, and you just ran off?

Juicy: Not my best moment, I know.

Couture: Look, that guy was a jerk. None of us really liked him, and we were all secretly hoping you’d break up with him anyway.

Juicy: We really need to work on your pep talks.

Couture: I guess the big question is whether or not it’s worth $100 million to marry a lying, cheating, scumbag like Dank.

Juicy: Ugh. Never in a million years. To tell you the truth, I don’t even know if I can handle facing him ever again.

You reach your cabin… and pause.

Juicy: Wait a second, the door’s already open.

Couture: Housekeeping?

You nudge open the door and find…

Dank: Juicy!

Juicy: Dank?!

Dank: I’m so glad I found you! I can’t believe you just left without me! I have something to say…

Juicy: This better be good.

Dank: I made a mistake.

Juicy: I already knew that… Get out.

Dank: This is my room, too.

Juicy: Fine, then I’m leaving.

You turn to go.

Dank: Wait!

You storm out and Couture and Dank follow after you!

Dank: Juicy! Stop being childish! We need to talk!

Couture: Hello? She caught you cheating on her! You’re the last person she’d want to talk to!

Dank: Couture, stay out of this. I’ve listened to podcasts that last longer than your relationships. This is between me and Juicy. She knows she’s not blameless in all of this. A relationship is a complicated thing.

You veer out the exit and onto the main deck. Dank trips over himself to catch up to you.

Dank: Juicy, I never would’ve cheated on you if you hadn’t been so distant. You practically pushed me into Sabrina’s arms!

You stop short and stare at him in disbelief.

Juicy: I… what?

Couture: You know, Dank, it’s good you’re here. Perfect, really, because my sister’s got something she wants to tell you. Right, Juicy?

Couture nudges you in the ribs.

Couture: Come on, this is your chance to really let him have it!

Juicy: I’ve got nothing to say. I don’t want to talk to you, Dank.

Dank: You can’t just shut me out.

Couture: Just watch us! Now back off, or I’m calling security.

Dank sighs.

Dank: Come on, Juicy… We’ve spent the last five years together. Are you really going to break up with me? And just hope you find someone new? Who else is gonna put up with all your little quirks and insecurities? I know you. I’m the only one who’ll ever love you.

You say nothing. He turns to go.

Dank: Forget it. I’ll give you some space. You obviously need it. But this isn’t over.

Dank leaves.

Couture: Ugh, what a jerk.

Juicy: He’s not wrong… My whole life was built around him. What if he’s right? I mean, I know you enjoy being single, but I hate it. And even Nana wanted me to marry him. It’s the only way to get my inheritance.

Couture: I’m sure Nana wouldn’t have wanted this. Actually… let me see that letter again.

You both look at the letter…

Couture: Nana never said you had to marry Dank. Just someone. You’ve got the whole summer to find a new fiance!

Juicy: That’s not a lot of time…

Couture: That doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Ever heard of love at first sight? You totally have a chance at this.

Juicy: … You know what? I can do this. I’m not going to let Dank ruin my life and make me miss out on $100 million.  I’ve got a dream wedding waiting for me at the end of the summer and three months of a luxury cruise to the most romantic places on earth. There’s a man out there who’s going to love me for me… And I’m going to find him.

[haltandcatchfiretothemax]

Headcanon that in fall of 1997, Cameron Howe researches Halloween while she should be doing work

[CN: deceased loved ones/spoilers; food/candy/eating mention; reference to sex]

She's supposed to be expanding her ideas for Phoenix, a project she's been anxiously looking forward to for several years, only to find herself aggressively procrastinating instead of working on it

It's October -- already uncomfortable because it means the winter holidays and all their emotional difficulties are fast approaching -- and no matter what she does, she can't seem to escape Halloween. When she turns on the television, Halloween-themed cartoons and Buffy the Vampire Slayer are on. Every store she goes to is stocked with Halloween candy, decorations, and costumes. When she tries to go for a walk, most of the houses have faux cobwebs in their front yards, and cardboard witches, black cats, and bats hung on their doors. Some houses have fake tombstones in their yards, which always make Cameron shudder.

Unable to make herself focus on work, Cameron ends up watching tv, and while flipping through channels, she lands on the history channel, catches the second half of a Salem witch trials documentary, and then watches a documentary about the history of Halloween.

She sits there on the couch with a box of licorice and tries to remember if she ever liked Halloween. She can't remember seeing her dad in a costume, but she knows he took her trick-or-treating at least twice: once when she was very small (she wore a pumpkin costume made by her grandmother), and then there was the year she dressed as a black cat, and her mother surprised her by also putting on cat ears and drawing whiskers on her face, and going from house to house with them. Her mother, once a dutifully observant if irreverent Louisianan Catholic, also made them go to church on All Saints' Day. They stopped going to church after her father was killed. They stopped doing a lot of things after that. Every holiday, no matter how informal, seemed like some kind of archaic rite she'd heard about in a history class.

The documentary explains that Halloween is about the end of the harvest season, and fear of the coming cold and dark, the cycle of life and death, and increased proximity to the spirit realm. It also claims that the first American ghost stories were about returned Civil War soldiers. Tears in her eyes, Cameron realizes that Halloween is about grief.

The following morning, Cameron goes to the library, where she's less bothered by all the cobwebs, bats, and cauldrons. A patient middle aged librarian in horn-rimmed glasses helps her find books that verify much of what the documentary said. Instead of going home afterwards, Cameron goes to a local craft supply store.

When Donna gets home the following day, she doesn't recognize her house. There are three tombstones in her front yard, black crepe is strewn across the front of the house like Christmas lights, and an ugly crown of thorns-looking wreath made of straw and birch is hung on the door. She goes inside, and calls out, "Cameron…? You're not being held hostage by Martha Stewart, are you?"

She goes up the stairs, and sees a skull-shaped vase of purple-black tulips on the dining room table. Then she notices the trio of ceramic werewolves, heads thrown back in a group howl, sitting on the living room coffee table. There's a large, black decal of a witch on her broomstick on the glass door that leads out to the pool. She goes up to the kitchen, where Cameron is standing at the island, upon which she's has arranged a set of small pumpkins. Utterly bewildered, Donna asks, "…are those decorative gourds?" Cameron calmly says, "Yes, they're meant to evoke the jack-o'-lantern, which was, according to a folktale, a hollowed out turnip that the ghost of a drunken thief who couldn't get into heaven but couldn't go to hell used to light his way."

When Donna has no response to this, Cameron says, "So, what do you think?" Still baffled, Donna says, "I think the skull with the flowers is looking a little Don King." Cameron squints unhappily at her, so Donna quickly says, "I think that someone is trying to put off her work." "No," Cameron insists, "it's part of it." For the next hour, Cameron explains the documentary while she bakes meatballs, cooks spaghetti, and tosses salad for their dinner. Donna sips sparkling water, and after Cameron tells her about being dressed as a pumpkin, Donna calls her Cam-o'-lantern.

That night, after they go to bed, they're still talking about Phoenix, ghost stories, and gourds, and Donna says, "What about the decorations outside? I thought you didn't like the fake headstones." Cameron frowns, "I don't, but we have real headstones, whether we want them or not, right? My dad, Gordon, Ryan and everyone and everything else we lost along the way." "Right," Donna says quietly, putting an arm around Cameron.

Two days later, after finally making some progress with some design ideas for Phoenix, Cameron surprises Donna, who's working late, by bringing a box of decorations to her office. When she gets there, Donna is sitting on her couch, looking over a proposal. She looks up and says, "Aw, you don't have to do all of that…."

Cameron says, "I know, but I wanted to." She starts with a clear vase of fresh, blood red roses for the coffee table in front of Donna's couch. She hangs an expensive-looking broom on Donna's door, and she places a ceramic family of two black cats and their two black kittens on Donna's desk. She tapes a pointy black witch hat to the top of the computer's monitor, and finally, she puts a tiny pile of stones next to the vase of roses.

Exhausted from a week of figuring out how to use holiday decorations to express her grief, she then sits down next to Donna, and rests her head on her shoulder. Donna puts her hand on Cameron's knee and asks, "What's with the rock pile?" Cameron says, "It's a cairn. For everything you lost, all the sacrifices you had to make to become a computer witch."

Donna looks thoughtfully at the cairn for a moment. Then, she looks back at Cameron and melodramatically says, "Witch? I don't have that kind of power. Technopagan is the term." Eyes wide, Cameron sits up, looks at her and says, "Donna if you're trying to seduce me with Buffy quotes, it will work." Donna says, "I feel like we could both use some of that, after this week," before kissing Cameron.

Cameron makes an annual personal event out of putting up and taking down her Halloween/Allhallowtide house decorations. Donna ends up keeping all of the decorations in her office year-round, with the exception of the hat, which finds its way to Donna and Cameron's bedroom and subsequently becomes the subject of many private jokes about possible role play scenarios

[compo67]

“Sam. I’m gonna marry this meatball.” 

 “Yeah, because that’s not weird. Hey. Quit stealing gnocchi from my plate. That’s cheating on your meatball.” 

 “We’ve agreed on an open relationship. God damn that’s amazing pesto. Even I can’t make pesto like that. Fuck. Even Mama Celeste can’t make pesto like that.” 

“First of all, you’re swearing an awful lot over food. Second of all, Mama Celeste isn’t real. Third, how dare you mention that name in an actual Italian restaurant. Fourth, I see your fork. Get. Away. Mine.” 

“Fucker. Just one more.” 

“You said that ten one mores ago. Save room for dessert.” 

“How did we not find this place sooner?” 

“Because you only eat at the same five restaurants.” 

“Gasp. I’m offended and now you’ve gotta pony up with some gnocchi. I offered you some of my meat.”

“...I won’t even dignify that with an answer.”

“Good on you. I’ve always said what a classy, upstanding, model citizen...”

“One more and that’s it. I mean it.”

“Sheesh. Lawyers. Have I ever been stingy with my food?”

“Dean, the only reasons I never take your food are because A) ninety-five percent of the time you’ve wolfed it down before I can even ask for a bite and B) you make weird growling sounds if I even try to get near your plate like you’re some kind of rabid poodle.” 

“Not. Mmph. True.”

“Chew. No one’s taking your precious meatball.”

“You think I’d get away with unbuttoning my pants?”

“If you do, I’m shoving the rest of the garlic bread in my pockets and leaving.”

“But you’d leave your gnocchi.” 

“I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Sure you can. Our bedroom. The living room. Your office. The guest room. Or hey, remember that time we did it in the laundry room?”

“I’m sorry, he’s from Kansas. This is his first time in a restaurant.” 

“Hoo-ee, this was good fixings. Just gotta unbuckle...”

“Dean.”

“Holy crap, Professor, calm down. Let that be a lesson to you though.”

“I fail to see your lesson.”

“Then it’s too late for you, Sammy. You’re lost to the alternate reality where we aren’t related.”

“Wow.”

“I know, weird, right?”

“No, I mean wow, you have never said that in public before.”

“I’m feeling too good to care right now.”

“Do you think... do you think we’d have...?”

“Yeah.”

“Even without being related?”

“Yep.”

“You’re an optimist, Dean.”

“And you’re a pessimist, Sam.”

“Used to be the other way around. How time has changed us.”

“Getting old does that.”

“I don’t think we’re that old.”

“Older than we were when I took you to Amalfi’s.” 

“Heh. You were hopeless.” 

“Not hopeless, Sam. A romantic. Look it up in the dictionary.”

“Oh yeah, romance. I’m not familiar with it.”

“Hey, I do romantic things for you still.”

“Well damn, call the Tribune. That’s front page news.”

“Last week, I bought you flowers.”

“Cecilia gave you flowers from her grandmother’s greenhouse. You did not buy me flowers. You brought home flowers.”

“Yeah, but I gave them to you.”

“We live in the same house.”

“So?”

“Uh huh.”

“I pick up your laundry. How is that not romantic?”

“Keep trying, Dean.”

“I let you come first last night.”

“We didn’t have sex last night.”

“In my dreams we did.”

“How generous of you.”

“I was seventeen and all I wanted was to take you to a nice dinner in that shit hole of a town we were stuck in. I’m surprised the owner even knew how to make spaghetti.”

“I don’t think he did. Tasted a lot like Spaghetti O’s from what I remember.”

“Ha! You’re right. Fine, I’m still surprised he knew how to open up a can. Can’t give him credit for operating a microwave--my food might as well have been a Spaghetti O’s popsicle.”

“You dressed up that night.”

“Well... I wanted you to like me.”

“I already liked you, Dean.”

“No, like... I wanted you to look at me like... I just wanted it to be...”

“You’ve got sauce on your face.”

“Where? Here?”

“No. Let me.” 

“You learned that from me, you know. The whole thumb lick thing.”

“I know.” 

“I wanted to give you everything you might have had with someone else.”

“Dean.”

“Yeah, Sammy.”

“I wanted everything from you, not someone else.”

“...we tried, right?”

“Yeah, we did. It worked for a while.”

“Longer than I thought possible. And here we are. In a place so not Amalfi’s. In a city so not like that town. And I’m about to box up the rest of my plate so you can eat the leftovers in a few hours.”

“...you’re the best, Sam.”

“Well, yeah. I let you marry a meatball.” 

[columbinelabel]

A DESIGNER’S EYE FOR PREPRESS

What’s better than a prepress operator with analytic skills? One with technical chops and seasoned graphic design background. That just so happens to describe Phil Griffith, a prepress operator at Columbine Label Company. It’s a position he never imagined himself enjoying when he first started his creative career.

A GRAPHIC START

“I was a freelance graphic designer for years,” Phil explains. “It’s a good way to build relationships and help people achieve what they are really looking for.” As a graphic designer for mostly print work, Phil became well versed in a variety of graphic design software and how to properly set up files for printing that reduce potential issues. A stint in marketing followed a few years later. Then Phil came across a prepress position for a commercial printer. “I’m a pretty creative person, but I thought I’d give it a try,” he recalls. “I ended up loving prepress. It appeals to my analytical side…making sure files are set up correctly and helping customers learn the ins and outs of print.”

Making the move to Columbine Label Company

After a decade at his previous job, Phil was ready for something more challenging and came across an opening for a prepress operator at Columbine Label Company in 2018. Phil beat out over 120 applicants, and he’s never looked back. “I’m so lucky to be here. It’s such a great place to work,” he says. “You can tell the companies that care about their employees and Columbine Label is one of them.”

Rewarding work

For Phil, no two days are ever the same at work. “Every day is an opportunity to problem-solve,” he explains. “And the graphic designer in me is always interested to see all the different label designs that come in and how we can get them to work the way they were intended.”

Phil finds that the Columbine Label’s focus on teamwork and customer service are crucial differentiating factors. “We work really well as a team. Our priority is making sure customers are happy with the end product.” To that end, Phil says he works hard to make sure the next person who touches the job doesn’t have to do anything extra. “I want to make sure I’ve done everything possible to make things easier for the next person in line. If you’re doing your job and encounter fewer issues, then you’re going to enjoy your job more.”

TIPS FROM A DESIGN/PREPRESS PRO

As a graphic designer and prepress professional, Phil can quickly spot potential pitfalls with files submitted by customers, often due to a lack of customer/designer knowledge about the printing process. He enjoys working directly with customers to educate them on the technical aspects of file prep Art Guidelines, so they have a positive experience turning their artwork into professionally printed labels. His top tips include:

prepare files in CMYK color mode, not RGB

submit vector files (preferably created in Illustrator) rather than bitmap files created in Photoshop or third-party software such as Canva

send files with high-resolution images to ensure crisp, clear print results

include a bleed if there are images or colors that go to the edge of the trim

add a layer of white to the artwork that will be printed on a clear or metallic material

include a die-line in the artwork to ensure production accuracy

barcodes should be black only and be at 80% magnification or more so that they will scan easily

CREATIVE OUTLETS

When Phil isn’t problem-solving at Columbine Label, he enjoys graphic design work on the side, cooking (especially his grandmother’s spaghetti and meatballs recipe), video games, music, driving through the mountains with his wife, and son, and cheering on the Denver Broncos. “I’m excited about this season,” he says. “It has to be better than the last five. I’m very optimistic.”