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cinnbar-bun · 4 months

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Together (Benn Beckman x Reader)

Summary: As the "mom" and "dad" of the Red-Hair Pirates, you and Beckman have a lot of work on your plates. (Un)Luckily for you two, your crew decides to meddle with your relationship (again).

A/n: A gift for my friend, @fanaticsnail . Enjoy the first mate, darling <3.

Notes: F!Reader, kinda of a will they-won't they type thing. Everyone is shipping it just Beck and Reader lowkey refuse to admit it. Lots of fluff and teasing. Reader is referred to as 'mom' and Beck as 'dad'.

Word Count: ~3k

You can read on my AO3 here!

“Dad! Mom’s being mean to me again!” Shanks loudly yelled while he was chugging more bottles of rum. The first mate sighed at the nickname but didn’t even bother to turn around and face his captain.

“(Y/n)?” Beckman called out.

“Yes?” You replied, the other members of the crew staring at you both with wide smiles and bated breath.

“Smack him for me,” Beckman chuckled. Shanks let out a faux-offended gasp as the deck erupted with laughter.

“You’re so mean to me! How could my own first mate do this to me?!” Shanks whined as you pat your poor captain’s head. He pouted like a little kid before he took another swig of his alcohol.

“That’s just what you get, Captain!” Lucky Roux laughed. “You know Beck won’t ever disagree with (Y/n)!”

“Well some of us need to be the adults around here,” Beckman retorted. He held two mugs in his hand, one filled with his coffee, the other prepared just for you. For the first mate, it was practically routine to make your morning drinks for you. He silently handed off your mug to you, and you took it with a hushed ‘thank you’. “Are you still making the list?”

You nodded while going over the notepad in your hand. “Tomatoes, potatoes, onions…”

“Don’t forget to add some carrots, since someone,” Beckman’s eyes narrowed at Limejuice, “burned them all.”

“Hey! It wasn’t my fault! I thought you eat them if they were black!” Limejuice tries to explain.

“They’re carrots, you can eat them raw!” Beckman shouted in exasperation. “You guys are going to kill me one day!”

“Oh, don’t be too harsh on them, Beck,” you try to soothe the first mate. “I can always take care of cooking duties, anyways.”

The men nodded, eager to have your cooking as a guarantee instead of whatever slop they would make in their often drunken stupor.

“Thanks, mom!” Yasopp cheered. “You know we love your cooking!”

“Not happening,” Beckman deadpanned. The men slunk their shoulders and groaned.

“Why not? (Y/n) makes the best food!”

Beckman rested a hand on his hips. “Because (Y/n) is already busy taking care of a majority of the duties on this ship. I’m not having her overwork herself because you guys couldn’t figure out that carrots are edible.”

Shanks put down his drink and nodded. “I have to admit, it’s pretty true. Beck has a point.”

“Thanks, Capta-”

“So I guess if you want (Y/n) to cook, you need to start picking up the slack!” Shanks proclaimed. “That’s a good compromise, right?”

You shrugged. “I-I mean, it’s really not necessary, I can cook, too.”

Beckman placed a hand on your shoulder and shook his head. “(Y/n), they’re grown men, they can do their own laundry and dishes. You don’t need to do everything.”

“I could say the same thing to you,” you chuckle. “‘Dad’.”

“Not you, too,” he groaned. “You know I hate that nickname.”

“I know, but it fits you.”

“‘Mom’ fits you as well.”

“Okay, you two, get a room!” Shanks laughed. Beckman glared while Shanks waved him off. “Anyways, why don’t you two take care of the shopping today? The men and I will handle things back here.”

“Are you sure? But Yasopp was saying-”

“Bah!” Shanks laughs off your concern before rummaging for a bag of coins. “Yasopp wasn’t planning on doing anything. Just take your time and get whatever you guys want. I better see you two relaxed and having fun when you get back!”

Beckman made a puzzled face as he took the bag of money. “You’re not slick, Shanks.”

“What’re ya talking about, Beck! I’m just saying, you two should take it easy today. You guys keep this ship and crew running. As captain, it’s only natural I let my best mateys have a day off every once in a while. I’m not some tyrant, you know?”

You stifle the laughter in your throat and and close your notepad. “Well, we really can’t complain, Beck. Let’s enjoy shopping for a bit.”

“Sure thing,” Beckman relented. He made sure his pistol was strapped to his belt and put the money into his pocket. “You got the list?”

“Mhm.”

“Good. I heard this island is supposedly famous for their bread. If we’re early enough, we might be able to snag some right from the oven,” Beckman comments. Your eyes widen.

“Really? We gotta hurry then.”

“Bye mom, bye dad!” Shanks waves with his remaining arm, causing the other members to rush back to the deck to see you off.

“Bye, you two!” Lucky Roux waves his stick of meat. “Don’t have too much fun!”

“Don’t stay out too late, lovebirds!” Yasopp jokes.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll not bring any rum back,” Beckman threatens.

“Aghhhhh! MOM! Do something about him!” The men whine to you while some of them boo and chide Beckman.

“Bad, Beckman, bad,” you chuckle as you and Beck begin to walk down the ship.

“You’re right,” Beckman plays along. “I’m just a horrible, terrible first mate.”

“The cruelest first mate around.”

“Mhm. And what does that make you? Just as bad?”

“Probably.”

You two go through the streets of the island, taking in the sights. It isn’t long before the sweet smell of bread begins wafting through the air and taking hold of the both of you.

“Oh man, they weren’t kidding,” Beckman mumbled after inhaling the smell.

“I think that means we came just in time,” you grin, excitedly walking up to the door of the bakery. You marveled at the selections within the store, as well as some of the bakers making the bread behind the counter.

“Wow…” you tap your chin. “Maybe we should get some brioche.”

“They do have flatbreads, too. We could get those for a meal,” Beckman hums thoughtfully.

“With tuna?” “Now you’re cooking. Add that to the list for our next stop,” he commented, and you nodded before writing ‘tuna’ on your list.

“I’ll add some rice as well,” you say.

Soon, it is you and Beckman’s turn to order, and you two greet the old woman working at the counter.

“And what can I get you two?” You begin to place your order, before turning to Beckman.

“Do you think we should get anything else?” You ask, glancing back toward the display of pastries. Of course the first mate caught that and nodded.

“Two pastries,” he added. “You want that one, right?” Beckman pointed at your favorite pastry and you smile bashfully at the fact he knew what you liked without you having to say a thing.

“Yep, that one,” you confirm. The old woman grins at you two and begins to package your bread. Beck takes the box of it to carry, and promptly thanks the woman. Afterwards, she puts your two pastries in a small, wax paper bag and hands it to you. She sighs contentedly and has a nostalgic look on her face.

“Oh, you two remind me of the good ol’ days. May your love stay with you forever,” she wishes. The sentiment catches you off-guard for a brief moment. “Sorry, we’re actually-”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Beckman thanks her. Your eyes widen as he smiles at you, and you can’t help the smile forming on your lips, either. You wave goodbye to the woman and exit the bakery with Beckman.

“Why’d you say that?” You ask, curious of his intentions. He shrugs, but there’s still a playful grin on his face.

“Felt natural,” is all he says as you two continue down the street. You rummage through the paper bag and get out the pastry he ordered for himself, one made with figs, and hold it to his lips. He stops his mindless chattering about things to get and leans down to take a bite.

“Mm, that’s so good. They got good figs,” he mumbles with a mouth full of pastry. You laugh at his silly behavior and wipe some of the crumbs off his chin.

“Let me try mine.” You take out yours and bite into it, melting at the exquisite taste of the pastry. “Oh, that’s amazing.”

“Right?” He says enthusiastically. “We have to come back here again and get some more another day.”

“We should bring some back for the crew next time.”

“Nah. Let’s keep this one our little secret,” he winks at you.

“You’re a very cruel first mate, Beck,” you tease.

“Well, can you blame me? They won’t taste as good without you eating them with me.”

“I think I have to agree.”

The day continues on like this, with you two continuing to shop and cart around box after box of supplies for the ship. Beckman and you have practically inspected every item for the freshest produce, meat, and fruits for the crew. Thankfully, you two are the most organized and efficient members of the crew and are practically finished before lunch.

“Did we grab coffee beans?” You ask, looking at your list again.

“Right here, dear,” he answers, showing you one of the bags.

“Okay, good,” you check off another box. “Is that really it?”

Beckman looks over your shoulder to see the list and the boxes all around you. “Would you look at that… guess we really did get everything.”

“I mean, this looks like all we need, but we did it so quick,” you say, admittedly wanting to spend more time with the first mate.

“We did. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t send Roux and Yasopp to do the shopping.” You laugh as you remember the time when those two went to get the supplies, only to come back near midnight with only the most expensive of alcohols and hardly any food. From then on, Beckman had set a rule that if anyone messed up that bad again, they’d have to pay with their own coin.

“Should we head back, then?” You ask.

“If you want. I have no problems walking around the town with you,” he replies.

“Considering you’re pushing that cart, I think we should go back and drop the supplies off.”

“It’s not a problem, (Y/n). This is pretty easy to pull,” Beckman assures you.

“Still, I-” you begin, before Beckman places a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey. It’s okay,” he states. “I’m happy to keep walking with you. After all, even our captain said we should enjoy ourselves. I don’t see any issue with us taking a bit longer to go back.”

“You really mean it?” Beckman nods.

“I do mean it. I enjoy our time together, and it’s rare we get the time to just do as we please.”

You hesitate for a moment then nod at him. It is true, as a pirate, especially in the crew of a notorious Yonko, moments of peace are rather rare and fleeting. Not having to fight for your life or the world is a nice change of pace every once in a while.

“Okay. Where to next?” You ask as Beckman leads you deeper into the city. The shops are more refined compared to the street markets near the port, leading your eyes to wander. You gasp and stop in front of a display window when you see a gorgeous selection of bracelets. Some are made with gold, others silver, and another with a shiny, black material. Beckman notices you frozen at the display and makes his way to you.

“Come on, let’s go in.”

“Huh? Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m just looking.”

“Don’t be so modest, (Y/n),” Beckman urges. “Go try one on.”

“I don’t have the-”

“Nope. No more excuses,” he shakes his head as he opens the door to let you in. You step into the store, amazed at the beautiful jewelry surrounding you. A salesperson greeted you and chatted with you about the bracelets you saw on display. They pulled out the displays for you to try on and you debated which one to pick.

“Hm…I think I want to try that one on,” you point at the gold bracelet. The salesperson clasps the bracelet gently on your wrist and you marvel how it sparkles under the light. “Beck, what do you think?”

You show off the bracelet to him and he stares at it with a surprised expression before he composes himself. “It looks great on you.”

The excited look on your face makes his heart beat faster as you tell the salesperson you want to buy it.

“Good choice. I do want to let you know we are currently doing a promotion for this particular set. If you buy another one, it’s 50% off.”

You turn to Beckman expectantly. “Do you want to get one then, Beck? We can match!”

He examines the bracelets. “I don’t know, I don’t think they’d look that good on me.”

“Hey, you can’t pull that trick on me after you made me come in here!”

“Fine, fine,” he chuckles. “I think I’ll try this one.” He picks out the black bracelet and puts it on. He looks impressed with the jewelry and his face softens as he looks into your eyes.

“Well? Does it look alright on me? Definitely doesn’t look as good as it does on you,” he jokes.

“It looks great,” you look back into his eyes as you press your wrists next to his. “I think this should be another of our little secrets.”

“I’m starting to think my bad behavior is rubbing off on you,” he smirks, as he goes to pay for the jewelry.

“Maybe it is, Beck,” you respond as your eyes are locked on your matching bracelets.

The afternoon is spent wandering aimlessly in this town. You two visit nearly every shop, walking and chatting about everything under the sun. Things like memories, what the crew was possibly up to, to even the most mundane topics like sweets and how you like your eggs prepared.

It feels simultaneously too short and like an eternity between the two of you. He continues to lug around the cart of supplies and other things you two bought in your impromptu shopping trip, never looking any worse for wear. He doesn’t care to focus on something like that when he’s with you.

The sky is beginning to turn a bright orange and pink as the two of you finally manage to get back to the ship.

“Wahhh! Mom and dad are back!” Roux yells as the men cheer. Shanks leans over the edge and smiles at you two.

“Well, well, I didn’t think either of you had it in you to take a break!” Shanks admits. “We all started placing bets on if you would be back by noon.”

“I was saying midnight, for the record,” Yasopp shouted.

“You guys are so immature,” Beck chuckles while shaking his head. “We just explored some of the shops. Got a few things.”

“Anything fun~?” Limejuice says.

“Bowls?” You lift a few of the new bowls you bought at a store.

The men throw their hands up and groan. “Really? Nothing else?”

“Nope,” Beck lies, making them all quiet. He scans the deck and notices it’s rather clean compared to the smelly and alcohol-ridden floor. “So, you guys actually did clean up, hm?”

“Yeah! Course we did!” Shanks proudly exclaims. “I told you we’d handle it. Now where’s the rum-”

“When we have dinner.”

“Ugh… why are you the worst?”

“Don’t be like that, Shanks,” Beck crosses his arms. “(Y/n) and I won’t be around all the time to handle everything. It’s good for you guys to learn to take care of the ship.”

Yasopp sighs. “Always so mature and level-headed, I tell you.”

“You’re so lame, Beck! How does (Y/n) put up with you?” Limejuice whines.

“Mom, tell Beck he’s boring and needs to be cooler!” Hongo cries.

“Enough complaining, help put these supplies away,” Beckman points to the boxes. The crew begins to do as told while you and Beck start unloading some of the supplies. As you do so, Shanks calls your name.

“Hey, gorgeous bracelet. Where’d you get it?” He asks, loving the gold on it. You jump when he mentions it and look at Beckman, who gives a simple nod.

“Just got it from the shops. It was on sale.”

Shanks nods and lifts your wrist closer to inspect the bracelet. “Wow, it really looks great on you.”

“She would hardly step into the shop until I made her. She was eyeing that the whole time,” Beck teases you.

“Not the whole time, exactly,” you try to explain. “It just was pretty, is all.”

Beckman lifts a box up to a shelf and Roux loudly gasps, surprising everyone.

“Beck!”

“What? What’s wrong?” You and Beck say at the same time. Roux has a knowing smirk on his face as he points to Beckman.

“You got a matching bracelet, too!” Roux shouts. Shanks and the other men gasp and move in closer to look at it. As Roux said, the black bracelet on Beck’s wrist matches yours perfectly, and the men howl in laughter. Some even begin to exchange money as you and Beck are mortified at their behavior.

“You guys seriously made bets?!” You cried.

“It was just a simple one!” Hongo admitted.

“And who was the one who said they were doing more than just shopping for food?” Yasopp rhetorically asks.

“You were also the guy who said they’d return at midnight. You lose half,” Roux retorts as he takes the money in Yasopp’s hand. Shanks huffs as he also gives some money to Roux.

“So like, did you two confess?” Shanks asks hopefully.

“For the last time- we’re not dating!” You and Beck shout in unison.

“Could’ve fooled me. You guys act like you’re married.”

“You guys are in so much trouble,” Beck sternly tells the men as he steps closer to them.

Some of the men begin to scream in horror. “Whaaaaa! Mom! Save us!”

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece oneshots #benn beckman x reader #benn beckman #x reader #reader insert #shanks and the red hair pirates look at reader and beck like “mama y papa. mama y papa.”

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eyeofnewtblog · 7 months

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Things that happen at work:

Got hired by a trucking company doing admin to safety stuff.

My new boss, in the interview: I’d love to have you start on *specific date* so that we can do the on boarding stuff, but we’re going to have the Driver Appreciation BBQ literally the day after and I want everyone to meet you.

Me: That’s honestly a good plan. I’m completely available for whatever happens, what time do I need to be there?

My actual second day of being hired and going through the whole set up of Driver Appreciation BBQ Day:

*chopped four onions for burgers and sobbed in the break room*

My boss: *lightly supervises but is honestly a Party Queen because she’s a Hispanic mom and is used to throwing parties for 100 plus people in her own backyard let alone a work bbq, you don’t even understand she literally looked at the corporate list of supplies and was like “nah, too much. Mmm. Maybe. Hm. Not enough.” AND WAS EXACTLY RIGHT she owns her own bouncy house, she’s got this shit on lockdown, ok?

So like two hours into this polite bullshit introductory hell scape (I am fine with meeting new people in large groups but I hate meeting people in “sterile corporate” settings, like, if I’m going to remember you, it’s because you did something actually meaningful or interesting, NOT because you shook my hand for five seconds and said you go by Steve or Becky…)

Me, to EVERYONE because my job is to Hand Out Shirts and Lunchboxes: Hi! I’m the new girl from Safety! Who are you exactly? Please don’t expect me to remember you, I’m terrible at putting names and faces together, but I’m sure we’ll talk again soon! What size T-shirt do you want? Here’s your lunch box!

Me: *finally gets a break and sits down to eat some honestly decent brauts and potato salad, deliberately choosing to sit next to one of the drivers that’s been at the company for a while* Hi, how’s it going? I’m the new safety girl!

Older driver whose name I don’t know YET: I’m doin’ pretty good with all this free food. So, you gonna stick around after the little one comes along, or are you gonna leave us high and dry like the last one?

Me, honestly pretty angry but trying to be cool: Not pregnant, just fat.

*very very very awkward silence, like this dude knew that he fucked up, but also the way my body is shaped I really don’t blame him for thinking what he did*

He did actually apologize right then and there, and honestly the entire way he went about everything was from a genuinely good place, and I personally thought it was funny after it was all said and done. Verbal on the spot forgiveness type stuff.

Guess who fucks up the very next day by UNINTENTIONALLY losing a very important document of the exact driver who “insulted” me?

Yeah. So. I spent my entire first week on a brand new job searching through three giant filing cabinets and 20 years worth of documents for ONE fucking medical card. I didn’t find it. Believe me, I looked at every single piece of paper in those cabinets, I have no fucking clue where I put it.

The driver was really nice about it and we had a good laugh about him putting his foot in his mouth and me swearing up and down I didn’t do it for revenge.

Honestly I have no idea how any of this will turn out, but every one seems nice so far so I’m really hopeful.

#things that happened today #things that happen at work #humans are space orcs #truckers #truckers are a breed unto their own #just have fun with it

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laundrybiscuits · 9 months

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(soulmates AU: Part 1 | Part 2)

“You know,” says Jonathan. “Nancy’s parents are soulmates.”

Steve hadn’t known that, but he knows it’s supposed to run in families. Even though it’s also pretty normal for soulmarks to crop up for no reason anyone can tell, his own had been a big surprise, because everyone knows that John and Linda Harrington aren’t soulmates.

The night after his soulmark had appeared, he’d woken up around midnight. He couldn’t figure out what had woken him up for a while, but as he lay there in the dark, he could hear his dad’s voice coming up through the floors. His mom and dad must have been in the study, right below Steve’s bedroom, and his dad must’ve been pretty worked up by that point to be that loud.

For god’s sake, John, Steve’s mom had hissed, quieter but still clear enough in the dead suburban night. He’s the spitting image of you. I don’t know what kind of proof you—

John and Linda Harrington aren’t soulmates. They can’t ever really relax around each other, because there’s no guarantee that something better won’t come along for either of them, and they both know it.

Steve had tilted his own wrist so he could see the pretty, confident hand of a girl he’d never met, and felt so glad that he’d never have to worry like that.

“Must be nice,” is all he says to Jonathan, now.

“Sure, maybe,” says Jonathan. “Don’t know if she sees it that way.”

He asks Robin about her parents later. He’s only met Mr. and Mrs. Buckley a couple times, but they seem to get along okay.

Robin makes a face. “God, they’re so weird about it. They never got any real names—like, names never appeared by themselves, but they decided to get tattoos when they got married. The artist had them sign like five million disclaimer forms and still did it in red ink so nobody would get it confused for the real thing, but they don’t even care. It’s embarrassing.”

“Yeah,” Steve says.

He thinks about it later, though, and decides it doesn’t seem all that embarrassing to him. It’s not as good as a real name, of course, but maybe it’s the next best thing. At least it’s some kind of permanent mark, so even if things go south, you’ll always have part of that person as part of you too. The kind of thing that can’t be erased, just covered over.

———

Steve doesn’t ask about the blob on Eddie’s wrist. Not asking basically becomes a hobby for him. Steve drops by after going to see Max two or three times a week, and he doesn’t ask. Steve helps Wayne load Eddie into the car to the brand new Nancy-approved duplex, and he doesn’t ask. Steve stops by with a casserole from the Hendersons, and he stays to help eat it, and he doesn’t ask.

Finally, Eddie chucks a potato chip at the side of Steve’s face and groans, “Just fucking ask, dude.”

Steve eats the potato chip, even though it’s sour cream and onion, and says unconvincingly: “Ask what?”

Eddie tips his head back over the arm of the couch and levels an unimpressed stare at Steve.

“Okay, fine,” Steve relents. “Tell me about your stupid name, I guess. Do I know her?”

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. I knew pretty early on that I didn’t want anything to do with that shit, so I covered it up the day I got it. If I could’ve stopped myself from seeing anything at all, I would’ve.”

“Wait, you covered it up? Like, did the tattoo yourself?”

“Sure. I mean, I had to fix it up later, it was my first stick-and-poke and it was pretty rough. For a while, you could still kinda make out most of the letters. Hurt like a bitch, though.”

“Jesus.” Steve leans back on his elbows, sprawling out over the rug. “I don’t get you at all, man.”

Eddie hums a little, drums his fingertips over his own jaw.

“What do you want?” he says abruptly. “Like, in life. Generally. What is it that Steve Harrington actually wants from the future?”

Steve puts another gross sour cream potato chip on his tongue and crunches down.

“Shit, I dunno. What does anyone want? A house, a family. The usual stuff.”

Eddie taps his nose with one bony index finger and jabs the other at Steve. “Bullseye, right there. The difference between you and me.”

“What, you don’t want any of that? Too normal for you?” Steve snorts.

Eddie groans and rolls sideways off the couch, landing on the rug next to Steve. He props himself up on his elbows. “It’s not about the actual stuff, Harrington. House and family doesn’t…” He hesitates, ducking his head so his hair tumbles over his face a little. “It doesn’t actually sound so bad to me, y’know? But I’d throw myself off a fucking cliff before I answered a question like that with what does anyone want.”

“Okay, if you’re so super-evolved or whatever, what does Eddie Munson want?”

Eddie grins up at Steve. It’s a little lopsided because of the shiny pink scar on his cheek. It’ll probably be lopsided for the rest of his life. Even back when they’d been making plans to buy guns and steal an RV, Steve remembers Eddie’s smile looking just plain happy, like a kid. Now it’ll always look like he’s got a secret he isn’t telling you.

“So, so many things,” says Eddie. “Most of all, though, Eddie Munson wants the freedom to make his own mistakes.”

Steve still doesn’t get it, but he’s starting to think there’s a lot of things he doesn’t really get about how other people see soulmarks. Most people seem to think just like Steve does, of course; there wouldn’t be so many songs and movies and stuff about it otherwise.

Talking to Eddie like this, though, is starting to make Steve feel like he's staring out into the dark, knowing there's something else beyond the porchlights but not even being able to see the shape of it.

He leans back, closing his eyes. Some guitar is wailing away from the boombox under the kind of vocals that always set Steve on edge; they’re too yelping and strained, like you can hear the singer’s vocal cords getting wrecked in real time as he yowls: man you’re dying—for what you’ve lost but never had—

It’s annoying, that’s all.

#not!soulmates AU #I actually quite like sour cream and onion ftr #idk why I've been writing almost nothing for months and then this unmarketable ridiculousness has just poured out of me #but here we are!#lyrics from Accept's Losing More Than You've Ever Had that I rejected for being too obvious include:#it's been a long time since you've lost her heart #man stop longing for the girl you made so sad

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bidisastersanji · 5 months

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Hear me out… Shrek ZoSan AU- waitwaitwait i swear it makes sense please don’t go this might be my worst best idea ever

Recluse grumpy green man who just wants to be left alone, fights good, has bad hygiene: check

Royal baddie with a secret, locked away for not turning out “right” who can actually fight really well with kicks and has a tougher side under their polished exterior: check

Zoro wants his swamp back after it’s flooded by magical creatures on the run from the tyrannical kingdom of Totto Land

He and an extremely talkative wooden puppet named Usopp go to Tonta Land to demand its ruler remove the magical creatures from his swamp

GIVE HIM THE CHAIR!

Zoro wins the tournament he accidentally entered and is forced by Big Mom to go retrieve the beautiful prince from the highest tower to marry to her daughter Pudding

He so gets lost, there’s a convo about onions, and Usopp and him finally get to the place and there’s lava and a lady dragon named Kaya who apparently loves Usopp’s stories

Sanji is waiting in the room patiently for true love’s kiss and Zoro just hauls him and his perfect ass over his shoulder and leaves

oh thank god they actually didn’t slay the dragon she’s actually been my friend these many years

Prince Sanji demands Zoro removes his helmet and is met with a mosshead brute

He thanks the noble knight and his squire as he’s been taught, however, trembling with concealed anger and not willing to let go of his fantasy of romantic knights saving him from his tower

Oh no they want to bring him back somewhere and night will come soon and he manages to hide himself in a cave the first night, overhearing his saviors talking about the stars during the night

He cooks them eggs and brekkie in the morning, not wanting to seem ungrateful (and he didn’t want the eggs to go to waste after accidentally killing the birds with song)

On the road he and the brute start getting along better, Zoro really appreciating how strong and fun to be around Sanji is, and Sanji feeling so happy being able to be himself authentically (almost) around someone and be appreciated for it

Cue romantic montage

They’re nearly in Tonta Land and everything crashes down around them that one night - Zoro was going to confess his feelings but overhears Sanji saying “who could love a monster” to Usopp, not knowing Sanji is talking about himself

He walks through the night to fetch Big Mom’s generals to escort them back and says goodbye to Sanji

Sanji resigns himself and pushes for a wedding to happen before nightfall lest his secret be out- even though he quickly understands that he’s a pawn for Big Mom to make ties to his sire’s kingdom of Far Far Germa

Meanwhile Zoro is sulking in his swamp

This is all happening with Hallelujah playing btw - picture the wedding cake with the toppers and everything

Zoro arrives to interrupt the wedding and say I object

But it’s too late and Sanji transforms and Pudding reacts in disgust - revealing her true feelings for the Prince and saying that she’s found him pathetic from the start

Kaya dragon comes in and eats Big Mom

Zoro and Sanji kiss and Sanji is like - but ?? I didn’t change ? I was supposed to be beautiful

You are beautiful , cook.

Cue “I’m a believer” wedding montage with the usual suspects

The end (unless Shrek 2 with germa ??)

Can you believe I wrote this whole thing from memory of the Shrek movie + did so without ever confirming that the protagonists were actually in ogre form ?

#i don’t care what anybody says this is my magnum opus #this is the peak story idea I’ve ever had #Shrek au #Shrek zosan au #galaxy brain #zosan #zoro x sanji #zosan fic idea #zosan fic #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #usopp as pinnochio #what would the others be as magical creatures btw #let me know if you have some good ideas !!!#one piece zosan

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jester-lover · 1 year

Text

Desi s/o making desi food for the Dorm Leaders

Requested by enbytomura (on AO3) Warnings- fem implied reader (but not really lol), food, fluff, brief mentions of dieting, bad dialogue courtesy of Jester

A short cute lil thing :) I hope this encourages y’all to try some indian food bc these are some very basic picks

Riddle

What you make him: Gulab Jamun

Rosewater?! In food?! He’s drooling already

The fluffy center, perfectly toasted outside, completely wrapped in a glaze of rose infused sugar syrup, Riddle is in heaven

He’s holding the spoon with his full, closed fist, elbows on the table, face covered in sugar syrup

His mom would be so upsetti spaghetti, but who cares lol

He’ll notice how messily he’s eating and just take a lil pause, and blushes super hard

Gives you a hug after eating, he’s very grateful

“Thank you so so much.”

Leona

What you make him: Lamb Biryani

He literally smells it from the kitchen and goes zoom

Man runs with purpose

Barrels in and asks for a plate (real respectful)

Tries so desperately not to show how deeply he just fell in love

Adores lamb above all, tender and practically falling off the bone, with the rice practically

soaking up spices, he won’t even get upset about the vegetables

Expect him to act like it was mediocre, but with the ferocity of his eating, you know better

“The lamb was good, don’t expect me to tell you again.”

Azul

I’m gonna jump off what the requester said abt pakoras

Our boy Azul loves loves loves pakoras

Especially paneer and potato-onion pakoras

With the paneer, he loves how soft and fluffy the soft cheese is, along with the crispy, spiced coating, his favorite sauce for those is the minty cilantro chutney, he’s so happy

With potato-onion, the far crispier of the two, with unraveling layers of red onion and thinly sliced potato wrapped up in the same spiced coating, he’ll eat that one with a tangy tamarind chutney

Literally feed this man please

“It’s my cheat day today, perhaps you could teach me to make what you fed me last week?”

Kalim

What you make him: Gol Gappa

Pani Puri, Gol Gappa, call it what you want, its good and I’m eating it

He probably grew up eating the best of the best, that probably included desi food

Rich people desi food, yknow

This makes him super excited to eat street food

Loves the fun aspect of eating Gol Guppa, definitely swallows in all in one go, reckless abandon for the win

Jamil is so happy for the two hours off he’s getting

Loves the sour and spicy cold water, along with the crunchy hallow flour puffs, definitely loads them up with potatoes

“Wonder if he could add a little more spice…”

Vil

What you make for him: Dal Makhani

Vil probably goes on a vegetarian diet at some point, because of his fondness of salad and smoothies, this didn’t bother him much, but the repetition gets him bored

So of course, you help out your man!

When he finally sits down to eat, his senses are flooded with joy

Loves it so much

The creamy, thick soup, speckled with lentils and beans, green basil and a swirl of white butter, along with a side of roti, or naan to eat it with, he’ll never forget it

One that def loves having desi food regularly, esp during diets he’ll lean back on spices to make his food taste better

He will definitely make you some german food as a thank you, like spaetzle or apple strudel

“Liebling, your cooking is spectacular.”

Idia

What you make for him: Chai with biscuits

He’s one of those people who forgets to eat during his game sessions

You get a little worried about your guy :(

Ortho assists you in procuring biscuits as you make chai

Idia is a little startled when you show up with a thermos and a cute little plate full of biscuits

He's so appreciative!!!

Walks with a little pep in his step for a while after (around his room ofc)

Tries to make it for you, with decent results (man is good at following written instruction)

“This is so good, do you want one of the biscuits?”

Malleus

What you make him: Kulfi

We know how much our boy loves ice cream

You know how much your boy loves ice cream

So you make him the objectively best kind of ice cream

Its trial and error at first, and malleus gets a little curious about the mystery project your working on

When you finally present it to him, he's absolutely elated!

His child of man! Made him something with love!

Absolutely adores it so much, literally devours it

The creamy ice cream on the stick, milky and sweet with a perfect texture, he’s falls in love even harder

Favorite flavor is malai, simplicity and richness is his favorite

“I absolutely adore you.”

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smittywing · 3 months

Text

FicBit 10: Jason Todd/Tim Drake

Previous parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

OH MY GOD THIS TOOK FOREVER. However, there is only one more part and it's already mostly done. Whew.

Red Robin was in Red Hood’s territory, and he was brandishing a greasy paper bag of Big Belly Burger.

“What are you doing on my turf?” Jason demanded, trying to ignore that he could *smell* the onions from two feet away.

“It’s been pointed out to me,” Tim said wryly, “that I may have been a shit to you.”

Jason shrugged because he fucking hated that Tim’s questions had gotten to him and he wasn’t ready to admit it.

“I hear burgers are the going rate for an apology,” Tim added, shaking the bag a little.

“And fries?” Jason asked, relenting.

“And fries,” Tim confirmed.

Jason swept the bag out of his hand and dug out the top burger. Loaded with onions. Perfection. “So let’s hear it,” he mumbled around the first bite.

Tim lifted the lenses on his domino and rolled his eyes. Jason coughed out a laugh around his double beef patties.

“I’m sorry I got all up in your business,” Tim said. “I wanted - I wanted too many things and I tried to make them all work.”

Jason lifted his own lenses to share his side eye. “What the fuck does that mean?” he asked.

Tim scratched the back of his head. “You had me pretty fucked up, with that kiss,” he admitted.”I know I shouldn’t have done it. But I guess I wanted to be part of what you were going through, like…Bernard was for me.”

“No names in the field,” Jason scolded, shoving some fries into his mouth. “And Cannon Fodder is your actual boyfriend. Were you going to be my actual boyfriend?”

“No,” Tim said immediately and blushed. “I just.”

“Help!”

Jason snapped his attention away from Tim. “Hello?” he called. “Do you need help?”

A child, a little boy, maybe seven or eight, ran out of the alley, his hands fisted in his sweatshirt. “It’s my mom,” he said. “She needs help.”

Jason flipped the lenses on his domino back down and tossed the bag to Tim. “Show me where she is,” he directed.

“This way,”the kid said and ran back down the alley. Jason followed, his long strides eating up the distance between himself and the kid, and then he saw a woman huddled over some cardboard boxes. She was protecting her stomach and Jason’s heart pounded as he assumed the worst.

“Let me see,” he said, kneeling next to her. “Help is here.”

He heard, rather than saw the taser as she fired, and he barely had time to say, “Fuck,” before everything went black.

Jason gained consciousness slowly and regretfully. For starters, he was upside down and his nose was running. (It seemed like a problem that would solve itself, but no.) Moving on, he was lashed to Tim, who was also unconscious. His head was tucked under Jason’s chin, his mouth breathing short puffs of air against Jason’s neck. At least he was breathing. Their hands were tied, Jason’s behind his back and Tim’s in front of him, which basically put them right in Jason’s groin. For fuck’s sake. As if Jason didn’t have enough problems with wanting Tim, some absolute psycho went and put Tim’s hands in Jason’s lap and was probably laughing while Jason tried to be cool about it. Finally, Jason craned his head down to see what they were dangling over. Acid? Alligators? Something that started with the letter B?

Nope. Concrete. Great. He groaned and Tim stirred against him.

“Wake up, Baby Bird,” he said because the jig was up and he might as well have company in immortal humiliation. “They got us.”

“Temporary situation,” Tim said crisply, even though his voice was muffled by Jason’s skin and his own shirt.

“Let’s not fall on our heads,” Jason suggested when he realized Tim was picking the ties on his own hands. Actually, falling on his head sounded pretty good right now, with Tim’s hands shifting and twitching *so fucking close* and his cock aching for those hands to hold it. Only Jason could get a stiffy while dangling over certain death.

“Just stay really still for a sec,” Tim said, and then he twisted around and wrapped his arms around Jason’s back. Jason tried not to die inside. Tim tucked his head into the small of Jason’s back - it was really weird to get turned on by this, right? - and rotated his body so he was facing upright, his knees hooked around Jason’s shoulders. “You need my pick before I jump?” he asked.

“I have a knife,” Jason replied, choked.

Tim pushed off and somersaulted to the floor. His landing was light, not as soundless as Dick’s, but far less noisy than Jason’s was about to be. Tim had freed Jason’s feet, which had been tied with his own, so Jason wrapped one leg in the hanging chain before he sliced apart the ropes holding his hand. He grasped the chain and swung himself down, landing beside Tim with a quiet thunk.

“I don’t know what kind of candyass bullshit that was,” he said, rubbing at his chest which still tingled from the taser. “But we need to kick some asses.”

“I got tased by a third grader.” Tim sounded salty. “I’m guessing it’s not my drug ring.”

“We weren’t even in costume when we pissed them off,” Jason pointed out. “It’s gotta be somebody else.”

“Smart enough to use decoys, dumb enough to leave us alone,” Tim added.

Jason tried to remember the woman’s face as he bent over her. “Mind control?” he asked. “Hatter’s still in Arkham, isn’t he?”

Tim tapped his earbud. “Oracle,” he asked. “Is Mad Hatter still in Arkham?” He looked at Jason and shook his head. A metal door screamed open a thousand feet away and about a dozen people marched through the opening. “Oh. That fits. Yeah, Red Hood and I will take care of it.”

“Who is it?” Jason demanded, unholstering his guns.

“Professor Pyg,” Tim said. “He escaped sometime this afternoon. He probably hasn’t had time to turn anyone into a Dollotron yet but he has some method of mind control.”

“Dammit.” Mind control meant no bullets. Not even rubber ones. “All right, let’s find this guy and put him back where he belongs. You still owe me a burger.”

“I gave you a burger,” Tim protested. “It’s not my fault you got duped into abandoning it.”

“I handed it back to you,” Jason pointed out. “It’s not my fault you got tased by an eight-year-old.”

“Ugh,” Tim said. “There are offices up there, on the catwalk. Pyg’s probably up there. Let’s skip the henchmen and go straight to the source.”

Jason didn’t often use a grapple but Tim was already on his way and there was no way Jason was letting him face Pyg without backup. He grappled up to the catwalk, ducking under the metal guardrail, and took off after Tim. They started clearing offices and had covered the east side of the warehouse when Jason heard a footstep behind him and spun around.

Pyg, brandishing a cleaver, and a syringe, had emerged from the next office down and was trying to rush Jason. Fortunately he was neither fast nor accurate and Jason managed to side-step him and take him down with a judo throw. He kicked the cleaver down the catwalk but Pyg lunged at his with the syringe. It wouldn’t have pierced his armor, but it didn’t matter. Tim was there and he cracked his bo staff across the back of Pyg’s head. Pyg went down and Jason picked up the syringe. “We’re gonna want to analyze this,” he commented.

“Later,” Tim snapped. “We’re getting him back to Arkham before he can do anymore damage.”

Sirens were already wailing. Jason zip-tied Pyg’s wrists and checked the back of his head. “You got him good, baby bird,” he said, finding a sizable goose egg. “Cops are on their way. They can give him a lift back to Arkham.”

“We need to figure out what this is and how to counteract it,” Tim said, nodding at the syringe still in Jason’s hand. “We’ll have to take it back to the Bat-Cave.”

“I’m not going there,” Jason said automatically. “Which office was he using? Are there notes?”

The notes were in the third office they checked. Tim took the notes and the syringe and slipped out of the warehouse to tell some cop he was friendly with how to synthesize an antidote.

Jason grappled to the roof of the next building and watched Tim from a distance as he spoke stridently with a detective. Then, he slipped into the shadows and went home.

#batbrats #jason todd #tim drake #jaytim #jason todd/tim drake #red hood #red hood/red robin #red robin #jason todd's potty mouth #batfam #fic actually

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itsoutrageouss · 1 year

Note

Hey if you still takes request, and if it's not too much trouble for you to write, can you do one where the reader (gender neutral) is the older sibling of Dustin and they just hit one year anniversary of ED (abnormal anorexia) free but no one seems to remember except Eddi who prepared a nuce dinner for them to celebrate ?

My family just ignored me all day and I just want someone to be proud of me...

a/n: we’re all proud of you here sweetheart <3 also hi I’m still alive i think so.

warning: mentions of ED, Wayne and Eddie being the best thing ever

word count: 1k ish

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

Don’t cry yet - e. m.

—☕️

It’s not like you expected a parade in your honor or anything, but a little

Hey, congratulations!

I’m so proud of you,

would’ve been nice. Instead you find Dustin already halfway out the door when you and your fuzzy socks pad into the kitchen.

“Hey! Morning! Uh- goodbye!” He says distractedly before slinging a backpack over his shoulder and slamming the door, much to your mothers dismay.

He was probably just busy, you figured. He’d remember sooner or later.

“Have any plans today, sweetie?” Your mom asked from the couch where she was automatically knitting away on whatever project. Her smile was genuine and innocent. They’d forgotten. Maybe you were foolish to think it was even a big deal.

Still you hummed as you made a bowl of cereal- content that you could do this now with no feelings of shame or fear. Still it didn’t feel like much of an achievement when no one was there to support your growth.

The day went by silently for you, and when none of your friends came by, when no one called, you curled back up in bed, furiously wiping away the few tears you’d let spill.

—☕️

Meanwhile eddie was scrambling around the tiny kitchen of the trailer with Wayne.

“I’ve never seen you this worked up over dinner before, kid” Wayne mused as he watched his nephew chaotically trying to stop the pasta from boiling over and not letting the chopped onions burn to coal.

“Well it’s a big deal today. They deserve this,” he replied, eyes never leaving the pots and pans in front of him, his tongue sticking out in concentration.

“Here, like this,” Wayne said, placing his beer on whatever space was free on the counter before taking the wooden spoon from eddies hands to help him along. He showed him how to go about it before going back to observing with an amused smile.

Eddies face was burning from the heat, curls sticking to his temple and neck. Wayne tsk’ed at him: “all this hair, son. You can’t see shit,” he snickered before retrieving a hair tie from somewhere between the couch cushions. Eddie bent down slightly in the knees so Wayne could reach all his hair, tying it back in a low bun for him.

“Thanks man,” he laughed, eyes beaming at the thought of seeing your face again. Your smile when he’d proudly present his dinner to you, when he’d watch you eat, more carefree than ever.

—☕️

You jumped, nearly falling out of bed at the sound of the phone ringing. You scrambled to get to it. It didn’t even matter if it was for you, any kind of interaction was greatly appreciated.

“Hello?” You asked, voice hoarse from not being used all day.

“Hey you,” Eddies familiar voice hits your ears and it gives you instant comfort. There’s a tiny speck of hope flickering in the wholeness of your heart, nervously licking against the walls whenever he spoke to you.

“How’s your day been?” He asks, but almost hurriedly like he has more to say. You had temporarily forgotten about the neglect you’d felt all day, so you give him a blunt ‘fine’ without more explanation. He hums distractedly and you feel your heart sink, believing he’s forgotten too.

“So listen I uh.. I got a surprise for you, kind of- well it’s dinner. I made dinner. I know it’s like only four but I started wayyy too early and now it’s just waiting so I thought why the fuck not just get you over here, right now.”

He always rambled when he was nervous. You hadn’t even noticed the giant grin that spread on your face, heating your cheeks.

“For me?” You whispered after a beat of silence. You were biting the tip of your finger in an attempt not to cry or laugh- you didn’t even know how to react.

“For you.” He said softly.

—☕️

When you arrived at the trailer, Wayne was on his way to work his night shift. “There you are! You have no idea how much that boy tried not to mess up the food- tell him you like it no matter what will ya? He really cares for you.” He said casually with a hinting smile. The sentient made your chest tighten in the best way possible. To think he spent all day working so hard doing something he hates just for you and your accomplishment. He made you feel so seen.

“I promise, Mr. Munson. Thank you.” You replied.

Eddie rushed out the door when he heard your voice, nearly stumbling over his own feet. His hair was in a loose bun, curly strands framing his face and plastering to his neck.

Before you could greet him he lifted you up into a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you” he grumbled into the crevice of your neck before setting you down and pulling you into the trailer by your hand. His words hugged your entire soul, and you couldn’t even thank him before tears welled in your eyes;

The small dining tables had an old cloth covering it, with two mismatched plates of your favorite pasta dish and canned bear in plastic wine cups.

“Voila” he laughs sheepishly, nervous that you’d find his gesture silly or stupid. It wasn’t very formal, the food maybe wasn’t the best but he really tried, and given your response earlier it seemed no one had celebrated you today which made his heart clench.

“The uhh, onions kind of burned. I know you don’t like wine so I hope this beer will do, and-“

You walked over to where he was standing and hugged him so tightly, trying to convey every single ounce of gratitude into it. He stood silent first, stiff, but quickly melted into your touch, his palm gently on your head where you hid in his chest.

“I love it, Eddie. I love it.” You said with a groggy voice, tears soaking into the material of his shirt. He squeezed you tighter, planting a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Now don’t cry before you’ve tasted it allright.” He muttered, and you couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you.

The food was bordering on really good, and the beer was definitely better than wine. You spent the rest of the evening talking, eating and drinking, with Eddie telling you how proud he was over and over again.

I don’t know how to end this fic I just love him too much. They lived happily ever after guys.

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cyberphuck · 1 year

Text

ASSASSIN’S APPRENTICE ABRIDGED: PART FOUR

My friend Razz wants to understand my shitposting about the Farseer Trilogy, but doesn’t want to have to read the books, so I’m summarizing it for them!

EDIT: Halfway through Jhaampe I start calling “The Big Turnip” the “Big Onion” instead and I can’t be arsed to fix it.

Read Previous Entries!

Alright Bastards and Old Bloods, this is it: the final entry and JUMBO-LENGTH conclusion to Assassin’s Apprentice Abridged!

- Excerpt from Chade Fallstar's private writings, Grune 28th, 1497:

Dear Diary, the other day we caught a little zombie-Forged girl and I've been keeping her in a jar with a stick and a leaf. If I shake the jar, she talks. She knows who she is and who her family is, and she also knows a lot of swear words. I gave her some bread when she wasn't hungry and she said "shove it up your ugly ass." I tried to teach her a trick and she bit me. I decided to send her to live on a farm upstate along with Chivalry and Prince Regal's mom.

Love, Chadey.

While Chade has been playing Jane Goodall with Forged people, Fitz has been very busy being an alcoholic. One evening, Chade calls Fitz up into his wall-hole and says "It's time for you to stop being a drunk and for the readers to remember who Prince Verity is."

"Why is there a hay bale in the corner of your--"

"Prince Verity is Chivalry's younger brother and currently King-in-Waiting for the throne," the Fool says, lounging underneath the hay bale. "That makes Prince Regal next in line after Verity. Just so you know."

"Right," Chade nods. "Fitz, your job from now on is to hang out with Verity in his Fortress of Solitude and do whatever he wants you to do."

"I'm fourteen," Fitz says.

"Don't argue with me, boy, I've got a wedding to plan. By the way, did you ever figure out who tried to kill Burrich?"

Fitz shrugs. "I figured somebody tried to kill him because he's Burrich."

"Ah yes, the age-old solution of 'things just happen, what the hell," Chade rolls his eyes. "Well, go on, shoo. Go bother Verity."

Sighing, Fitz climbs thirty-nine flights of stairs to where Verity is sitting in his empty tower room and staring out the window. "Breakfast, your highness," Fitz announces.

"Ew," Verity moans.

"There's also a cup of tea with enough caffeine in it to kill some sort of very big gray trumpet animal," Fitz offers.

"Yeah, okay, I'll take that."

"So, uh," Fitz says, standing there awkwardly as Verity drinks an amount of stimulant that should make his heart explode, "watcha doin up here?"

"Defending the kingdom."

Fitz looks out the window at the ocean. He looks back at Verity. "Like... with a gun?"

Verity smiles softly. "Oh, you're stupid. I like that in a person I'm going to use as a tool for the rest of my life."

"I like you, too," Fitz says, tail wagging.

"I'm using the Skill to confuse the Vikings so they won't raid our shit and turn our people into zombies," Verity explains. "I'd ask Galen's Skill students to help but they're pretty useless. Hey, didn't Galen teach YOU how to Skill?"

"Oh, he tried but I'm bad at it, it's because I'm a basta-- HHHHGGGHHGHGHHGHHHHHH KEPPET.EXE HAS ENCOUNTERED A PROBLEM AND NEEDS TO GHHHGH TROJAN DETECTED TAKE ACTION TO PREVENT GHHGGHHHH HOT SINGLES IN YOUR AREA CLICK HERE TO CHAT GHHGHGGGHHHHHH"

"Huh," Verity says after thoroughly mentally assaulting Fitz without warning or permission. "Looks like someone used the Skill to convince you you were bad at Skilling. That’s just one of the many things the Skill can do that I will reveal to you whenever I feel like it, which will usually be AFTER you need to know.”

"I think I need an adult," Fitz whimpers from the floor.

Verity chuckles fondly. "I am an adult. Too bad I don't really have time to teach you to Skill properly. That probably won't come back to bite us. Run along now, stop crying. Oh, and see if Chade can get you to murder that gross noble two counties over."

A few weeks later, at breakfast, Fitz tries to eat Coco Puffs as quietly as possible while Verity and Shrewd argue.

"I don't WANT to get married," Verity says for the eighteenth time. "I've gotta keep sitting in the Martyr Tower and keeping Vikings from attacking us!"

"Well guess what, bucko, I'm your father AND your king and if I say you're getting married then you fucking are!" Shrewd rage-butters a scone. "And I swear to Eda if you pull a Malicious Compliance like your older brother and marry the absolute worst candidate for queen you can find then I'll look the other way when YOU'RE assassinated too!"

Fitz slowly reaches for the cereal box, eyes wide.

"It'll be good for morale, Verity," Shrewd goes on. "Everybody'll be like, 'oh, if the Prince is getting married and pumping babies into some foreign woman then being murdered by Vikings really isn't that bad!'"

"And who did Regal choose for me to be married to?" Verity asks.

Shrewd looks at the smudged writing on his hand. "The Kraken," he announces.

"You mean Kettricken?" Verity says. "The mountain princess? I'm like twice her age. And I don't have time to go to the mountains to grab her, Vikings will totally Vike you all while I'm gone!"

"Well SOMEBODY'S gotta go up there and grab her," Shrewd insists.

"Figure it out," Verity snaps as he storms out of the room. "And by the way, Fitz has been sitting there eating six bowls of sugar cereal because he has no adult supervision!"

He slams the door.

"Hi Grandpa Shrewd," Fitz says into the silence.

"Hello, Lil Accident. Just so you know, Kettricken is only second in line to the mountain throne. First is her brother Rurisk, who took an arrow to the chest a couple years back and now is about to die from Being Poisoned to Get Him Out of the Way."

"Yes Grandpa Shrewd.”

Chade Spidermans down from the ceiling. "You're sending him and not me? Why?"

"Plot reasons," Shrewd says, taking the cereal box away from Fitz.

"Oh boy," Fitz says, jumping up. "I'm gonna go tell my friend the Fool!"

The Fool's not in his room, but a bunch of other cool stuff is: every Lego set from 1973 onward, a bunch of those neon-colored ponchos from the 90's, Sudoku puzzles completed in ballpoint pen, and A BABY????

Oh wait, that's a doll. Looks like a baby though. Weird.

Next Fitz goes to visit Patience. Patience is sifting through an old jewelry box; she sits Fitz down so she can hold different things up to him and see how they look.

"Hmm. No, too subtle... this one's too gaudy. Ah, yes, this one." Patience pulls out a black collar with the word DADDY on it in gold letters. "Yes, this is perfect. Put it on, Fitz."

It's eventually decided that since Verity can't go to the mountains, Regal is going to be a stand-in at the wedding and then they'll have another wedding later when the Kraken comes down to Buckkeep. Fitz is loading up the horse-van for the journey when the Fool cartwheels up to him.

"I have something for you," the Fool jingles.

"I didn't go in your room and touch your doll or accidentally drop your seven thousand five hundred and forty one piece Millenium Falcon Lego set," Fitz blurts.

"Take this Pepto Bismol," the Fool says, "and don't eat anything weird in the mountains."

"Don't worry about me, Fool," Fitz laughs. "I'm sure nothing bad'll happen."

Fitz goes on a road trip. August, Fitz's cousin and current member of the Skill Gang, is going with them to help Verity Skill-connect to the wedding when it's time. Hands the stableboy is also there, which is nice, because they're taking the I-5 to Jhaampe, the mountain capital, and there's not a lot to look at on the way. They travel through a lot of places that Fitz is just going to have to travel through again in two books while being chased by Regal, so all he really notices is that there's a shitton of grass, a bigass lake, and only one set of hot girls who want to give him and hands their first sexual experience (the girls' mom shows up and hits them with a sandal until they go home).

The wedding party climbs into the foothills of the mountain kingdom, and there waiting for them are... the Vikings?

Okay, so the group of seafaring raiders that I've been referring to as "The Vikings" are culturally sort of more like Mongol raiders. It's not really a one-to-one comparison but the important point here is that the mountain people are what we in the real world would typically imagine Vikings to be, except that here in the Six Duchies the Vikings are the Vikings and the mountain people only LOOK like Vikings, Fitz is Simba, Regal is Scar and I think the Fool is Horatio.

Are we clear? Alright moving on.

Fitz and co. are greeted by a welcoming party of mountain people, who are tall and pale and blond. They're super friendly and cheerful, singing the Songs of Their People and totally confusing Hands, who doesn't speak Mountain. Fitz doesn't speak Mountain either, probably. Maybe.

They arrive in Jhaampe, where the buildings look like if you cut off the tops of the towers in Red Square or planted a bunch of turnips upside down. A second welcoming party pops up, and when August and his cronies complain that their feet are tired and they don't feel like walking anymore, the mountain peeps carry them into the city on planks. Fitz is extremely embarrassed by this and is trying not to cringe all the way down into his tights.

To seem less like a lazy dick who makes strangers carry him places for no reason, Fitz strikes up a conversation with one of the old ladies carrying his plank. Her name is Jonqui and she knows a lot about the city, and slows the plank down so she can point out interesting landmarks and gardens.

"Pull-Out Fail speaks good Mountain," she remarks, grinning. "Maybe he learned as a tadpole?"

"I'm just super good with languages I probably grew up speaking," Fitz shrugs.

They arrive at the biggest turnip, which serves as Jhaampe's royal palace. Jonqui escorts Fitz inside and he finds that it's not really a palace, it's more like a tent made out of a tree, with a lot of open space in the middle, and there's not a whole lot of private spaces that he might use to murder their prince.

Whatever, he'll figure it out.

"Come, Pull-Out Fail," Jonqui says, herding Fitz to a center stage. "We will watch our Shift Manager present his Shift Manager to be your Shift Manager."

"Shift Manager?"

"Yes, that is what we call our royalty. When someone comes to demand to speak to the person in charge, the Shift Manager is the one we have chosen to throw under the bus," Jonqui explains. "It is a very important duty."

Besides King Eyod, who is an old person, there are two random mountain folk in white dresses. Fitz eyeballs them and wonders where the rest of the royal family is. "The girl one," Jonqui says, elbowing Fitz, "she is my niece."

"Neat," Fitz yawns, still looking around for someone wearing a crown. "That other guy looks like He-Man."

"Yes, he is my nephew."

Gifts are exchanged.

"This isn't going to be like that one scene in Midsommar, is it?" Fitz asks warily. "You're not going to like, set these people on fire?"

"This," King Eyod announces, taking He-Man by the shoulder, "is my son, Shift Manager Rurisk, first in line to the throne of the mountain kingdom. And here is Shift Manager Kettricken, who shall marry the Shift Manager of the Six Duchies and become their General Manager, She Who Sets the Schedule."

There is general oohing and ahhing and applause. Fitz realizes he's been chatting boredly with the King's sister this entire time. Why hadn't Regal sent any kind of message to the wedding party ahead of time to warn them that the mountain people liked to play Undercover Boss? No, Regal had just texted to remind them to bring his Gucci underwear, the dick.

Jonqui drags Fitz over to meet Kettricken and Rurisk. "Kids, this is Pull-Out Fail Farseer," she says. "Now you go run along and play, and be back when the streetlights come on."

"Yes, in our language we call him 'The Bastard' because he sucks," August chimes in helpfully. Rurisk glares at him.

"Pull-Out Fail," Rurisk says. "I knew your father. And I spoke with him, on the day that he'd learned that he'd knocked up one of our people. He was a good man."

"This joke is getting kind of old," Fitz says. "Listen, my name is Fitzchivalry--"

"Oh, Fitzchivalry Farseer?" Kettricken brightens. "You poison people, right? Regal told me all about you and how you run around with Lady Thyme murdering people in the Six Duchies. It's so good to finally meet you!"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Fitz replies articulately.

"Come on," Kettricken says excitedly, "let's go to the herb garden. I heard you like herbs."

On the way out to the herb garden, Fitz forgets that Kettricken knows he's an assassin and notices she has boobs, because he's fourteen. Together they get enthused about plants and shit, and they take a stroll around the herbs.

"Taste this one, it's really weird," Kettricken says. "... What's that thudding noise? With a jingle? It sounds like someone's court jester is banging their head against a wall."

"I hear that a lot," Fitz shrugs. "I usually just ignore it. You said to eat this plant I've never heard of? Mm, spicy!"

"So," Kettricken asks as she stops a speeding train with one muscular arm, "what's my future husband like? Shift Manager Regal told me that he's really old and nasty and that he just sits in a recliner watching Fox News all day."

"He's thirty two," Fitz tells her, mentally adding a dick to the big ol' bag that he wishes Regal would eat. "Verity is super nice, and funny, and he has fun hobbies and he likes animals. He's really handsome, too, he has gorgeous black hair and shining eyes and big broad shoulders and a really nice ass--"

"So Shift Manager Regal lied to me." Kettricken frowns, biting her lip. "Does he lie about a lot of things?"

"They hang people in my country for having an opinion on that," Fitz says.

"Regal was six Jagerbombs deep one night and told me all about how you loved sneaking around and killing people," Kettricken confesses. "He said that if you showed up with the wedding party, it meant that you were here to poison my brother to get him out of the way and make me the heir to the mountains."

"What haha that's weird what a weird thing to say haha," Fitz stammers, foaming at the mouth.

Rurisk and Jonqui come running down the path to fetch Kettricken, telling her that there's a thing at the thing she has to do, remember that thing? And Fitz smiles and waves bye to them and then walks happily back to his room in the tree-palace and starts frantically digging through his stuff for the Pepto Bismol the Fool gave him.

Rurisk bursts into the room at five the next morning, waving a bottle of Mountain Bismol. "Pull-Out Fail, are you still alive?!"

"I wish I wasn't," Fitz moans, face pressed against the rug. "Get away from me with that."

"He's not dead, no thanks to you," Rurisk says, glaring at Kettricken as she peeks into the doorway wearing footie pajamas. "Go get us some breakfast, and don't fucking poison it!"

Fitz tries to stand up and faceplants on the bed. "Stop making the floor move."

"Someone told Kettricken you were here to kill me," Rurisk explains. "I told her not to worry about it, but she thought it'd be a good idea to trick you into eating what we call Fentanyl Flowers and then not tell me about it until fifteen minutes ago."

Kettricken comes back into the room with donuts and coffee. Rurisk breaks a donut into three pieces, giving each of them a piece. "And if this is poisoned, you've killed us all," he warns.

"Oh my god, that was one time," Kettricken whines.

"Listen, Pull-Out Fail," Rurisk says earnestly. "My little dinky mountain kingdom needs the space for farmland down on your big prairies. We need cool stuff from the town that the Liveship Traders books take place in. We need a beach for our college students to go to on Spring Break. So I'm willing to give you ethically sourced furs, good lumber for warships, and my hot little sister as trade."

Fitz pauses with a donut halfway to his mouth. "What do you mean, 'ethically sourced furs'?"

"We shave bears. It's not important right now. What is important is that you don't have to kill me to get me out of the way, because I'm on YOUR side. Do you get me?"

"I get you," Fitz nods.

"Good. Now I'm going the fuck back to bed. Kettricken, don't poison anybody on the way back to your room."

"If you don't stop I'm gonna tell DAD--"

Fitz lays back on the bed. He closes his eyes and wonders if communism should be a thing. Then he thinks, no, having a monarchy is definitely a good idea. What could go wrong with having a ruling class of divine-right royalty who are constantly murdering each other for the throne? And surely there's no drawback to having a Prince that's an evil little shit who commits crimes against humanity with no fear of punishment or reprisal.

Yeah. Kings are the best.

The next day Rurisk invites Fitz out to the dog kennels. Fitz loves dogs! Then they turn a corner to find a very old hound dog whose jowls, ears, belly and tail are all dragging on the ground as he waddles up to them, and the music swells as Fitz cries "Nosy!!" and kneels down to hug him.

"That's my loyal old hound dog," Rurisk says. "Burrich the stablemaster sent him to me in a little basket with a bow on it years ago."

"I had a socially unnacceptable soul-bond with this dog," Fitz explains.

"Gross," Rurisk smiles. "Anyway, I gotta go do Prince stuff. Smell you later."

Fitz immediately goes to find Burrich, who is in the Big Turnip presenting a horse to Kettricken as a wedding present. Cob--

Wait, there's a note here. It says, "Cob is the stable boy that Fitz and Nosy met when they first came to Buckkeep." There's a piece of straw taped to it.

Cob is there too, and he makes sure to give Fitz the middle finger as he approaches.

"Burrich, I need to talk to you," Fitz says. "I just found out you didn't kill Nosy when I was little."

Burrich stops what he's doing and turns slowly to stare at him. "I'm sorry, you thought I killed a puppy? Jesus, no wonder you were so twitchy as a kid."

"But you didn't kill a puppy," Fitz says. "And we can still be friends."

"You thought I was a monster who would [BUILD A ROCKET SHIP SO THAT AN ANIMAL COULD RETURN TO ITS HOME PLANET] if I'd found out you'd bonded with it, but you turned around and bonded with another fucking puppy," Burrich growls. "Which I told you is nasty, so no, we can't be friends."

Fitz drags himself sadly back to the Big Turnip.

That night, Fitz is getting ready for bed when Regal's servant turns up at his door. "Hey fuckwad, Prince Regal wants to talk to you," he says, and drags Fitz by the wrist up to Regal's royal Regal room.

Regal is chilling in his chambers doing epic bong rips out of the skull of a dead orphan, like not a dirty street urchin, but specifically an adorable little ragamuffin with soot on their little tophat that flew off comically when Regal took them out from five hundred yards away with a sniper rifle. "What's up, DICKchivalry," he sneers, then high-fives one of his minions.

"Hi," Fitz says, forcing a smile.

"Have you gotten around to murdering Prince Rurisk yet?" Regal coughs.

"Uh."

"Uh," Regal says mockingly. "God, you're stupid. Isn't he stupid, minion who has no business hearing any of this?"

"Absolutely idiotic, my Prince."

"Prince Rurisk said he's on our side," Fitz says, "and that he wants us to have the lumber we need and his sister and everything. I figured maybe it'd be better to like, not kill him."

"Alright, since you're too dumb to plan an assassination, I'll figure it out for you," Regal says as his minion loads another bowl. "I want him graveyard dead before the wedding so he doesn't stand next to me and make me look short. Now fuck off."

Fitz fucks off with many a backward glance, wondering what the fuck he's supposed to do now. There's no signal in the mountains so he can't send a message to Chade or King Shrewd to tell him that Rurisk is cool actually, and even though Regal sucks, like, REALLY sucks, he IS a Prince and Fitz is a tool of the Crown so he does technically have to follow orders.

What the fuck is Regal's problem? Fitz thinks while brushing his teeth the next morning. Why did he tell Kettricken that I'm an assassin? Why does he want Rurisk dead so bad when Ru-Dawg is on our side? Gosh, I wish I could talk to Chade or Verity or Grandpa Shrewd or literally anyone, but they're so far away, and--

Oh right, the Skill.

"AUGUST," Fitz pants, sneakers squeaking as he skids to a halt in front of his cousin. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Look: do you see this silver pin, with the ruby in it? King Shrewd gave this to me when I was nine and sitting under a table eating leftover pies. The Fool and Regal were there too, and there were some puppies, and King Shrewd knelt down and gave me the pin and told me that if I ever needed to talk to him, I could just show this pin at his door and he'd let me talk to him, no matter what, and there's something really important going on so I need you to send a Skill message to him right now."

August looks at him for a minute. "No," he says finally, and turns to leave.

Fitz grabs his sleeve. "August you HAVE to let me talk to Shrewd, there are LIVES at stake!"

"Okay fine, jeez," August says, shaking him off. "I'll get Shrewd on the line."

"Great! Great. Okay. Tell him, uh." Fitz takes a deep breath. "Tell him Prince Rurisk is doing great and I don't think we should kill hi-- uhhhhhhhhh, I mean GIVE him the PRESENT that we were going to POISON him with."

"You're such a fucking spaz," August mutters, closing his eyes to make a Skill Call. Then he shrugs. "It went straight to voicemail."

"Redial," Fitz says desperately.

"No, I've got important cousin shit to do, including telling Regal that you just tried to get me to dial long distance to talk to the King." August walks across the palace to talk to Regal, but the Prince is high as fuck and doesn't care.

Fitz leans against the wall and makes a thinky face. "Maybe I could kill Regal," he says for what will be the first of several hundred times. "Eh, probably not worth it."

That night, Regal's minion gives Fitz a little secret packet of horrible deadly poison. "Regal gave me this to give to you to give to Prince Rurisk," he says. "Put it in his drink and make it look like an accident."

"Did King Shrewd send me here as some kind of complicated political maneuver where I would kill Rurisk and then be publicly hanged for murder so no one would find out that we killed Rurisk for political gain?" Fitz asks.

"Take the fucking accident powder," the minion snaps.

Fitz walks through the Big Onion to Kettricken's door, where he knocks and tells her that he's going to kill her brother. Then he goes to Rurisk's room, with Kettricken following behind. He sits down at Rurisk's table and dumps the accident powder into a glass of wine while Rurisk watches. Then they both drink from a different glass.

"Kind of sucks that Shift Manager Regal told everyone you're an assassin, Pull-Out Fail," Rurisk says. "You wanna hang out here in the mountain kingdom so you don't end up at the bottom of a lake with your feet encased in concrete?"

"Maybe," Fitz says. "I think somebody's supposed to catch me in the act of killing you just now, will you let them in?"

Cob bursts in the door. "Caught you red handed poisoning the Prin-- OH FUCK KETTRICKEN YOU DIDN'T DRINK THAT WINE DID YOU??"

"No, why?"

Rurisk falls over dead.

"Wait, why is he dead, we both drank from the same gl-- wow, I do NOT feel so great," Fitz says, foaming at the mouth again.

Cob grabs him. "I sent Smithy to space," he grins.

"Yeah, well I have a poisoned knife," Fitz replies, stabbing him with it.

"Sweet mountain Jesus, someone stop him, he's killing everyone!" Kettricken yells, then realizes she's holding a heavy metal object and beans Fitz in the head with it.

Fitz wakes up in the stables outside the Big Onion with Regal already monologuing over him. "I wanted you dead because you and Lady Thyme poisoned my mother!"

"Queen Desire, Shrewd's second queen who died at some point in this book but Fitz literally cared so little that he didn't even mention it," says a nearby hay bale.

"Thank you, hay bale," Regal says. "You thought I didn't know you poisoned her, but I DID know! I also know that you were using Burrich to Skill, but as soon as I had Cob stab him you were forced to stop. I knew ALL of these things!"

"Glag," Fitz says, concussed. Then he closes his eyes, and suddenly he can Skill.

"Hi, Prince Regal," Galen the Skillmaster says. "Are you ready for me to Skill-Kill Prince Verity during the wedding so you can marry Kettricken and be King-in-Waiting?"

"Ugh, but she looks like a Soviet Union propaganda poster," Regal moans.

"Suck it up," Galen says, hitting 'end call.'

Fitz is still laying on his face in the stables. Nosy noses in and ambles over to drool on him, then bites through the ropes Fitz is tied up with. Burrich shows up next.

"You have the Wit," Fitz tries to say, but he's still suffering poison damage and the 'hit in the head' debuff, so it comes out as "Glaggaglah."

"I'm in the closet," Burrich says. "Did King Shrewd turn you into a baby assassin?"

"Glag," Fitz confirms sadly.

Burrich looks back at him, then does a double-take. "Where the fuck did you get that collar that says 'DADDY' on it?" he demands.

"Patience glave it to me."

"I cannot fucking believe this," Burrich mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's the collar that I gave to your dad."

Fitz looks at him.

"You gave it to Prince Chivalry when he found out about me," Fitz says. "That's why it says 'DADDY,' because that's when he found out he was a father."

"Sure, we'll go with that," Burrich says queerly.

Jonqui, King Eyod's sister, clips through the wall while T-posing. "Come back to the Big Onion," she says. "Kettricken has forgiven you for poisoning her brother. Which I know you didn't do."

They drag Fitz back to his rooms at the Big Onion. While Fitz is trying to remember how to drink water, August shows up at the door. "Verity called," he says boredly. "He said, uh, be loyal to who's loyal to you, or something. Also all of Regal's servants died mysteriously and he wants you to go to the hot springs to help him bathe."

"I do not want to see Regal naked," Fi tz protests, but goes anyway.

Regal's sitting in a hot tub drinking an evil martini when Fitz and Burrich arrive. "Ah, there you are," Regal says. "Hulking Manservant, bang Burrich over the head."

Burrich goes down. Fitz yells timber. Regal drags Fitz over to another hot tub, ignoring the sign that says 'WARNING: DO NOT USE THIS HOT TUB IF YOU HAVE BEEN RECENTLY BETRAYED BY YOUR EVIL UNCLE' and throws him in.

"And that's that," Regal says happily, dusting off his hands, and leaves.

Fitz, flailing around in the water being hot tubbed to death, can suddenly Skill (again). This is great! He Skills joyously. Skilling is rad! I'm gonna call everyone! Hey Verity! VERITY! ... Verity?

"Dearly Beloved..."

The Fool looks up from his Adult Coloring Book. "Hm?"

"We are gathered here today to join these two second bananas in holy matrimony. Do you, Prince Verity..."

Verity! Fitz Skill-yells. Look out!! Skillmaster Galen is standing behind you about to pull a Skill Dracula on you and suck out all your, uh, Skill! That's a thing that can happen apparently!

I am actually Queen Desire's bastard son and Prince Regal's half brother! Galen Skills evilly. I'm pretty sure there's no member of the Farseer reign that HASN'T either sired or given birth to a bastard! Like seriously, as a family we legit just cannot keep our pants on. ANYWAY! I have been conspiring to kill Verity and put Regal on the thro-- oh okay apparently you can just straight kill someone with the Skill too, who knew.

Galen collapses, Skill-dead.

AUGUST, Verity Skill-megaphones into August the Skill-cousin's ear. PUT THE KRAKEN ON THE LINE SO I CAN TELL HER IT WASN'T ME WHO PLOTTED TO KILL PRINCE RURISK. AND ALSO THAT I RESPECT HER AS A PERSON AND WILL GREET HER WHEN SHE ARRIVES AT BUCKKEEP WITH A FIRM HANDSHAKE AND A MANLY NOD.

August's head explodes.

~epilogue~

Fitz and Burrich are later found in a wet, unconscious pile in the steams. Fitz has puncture marks in his wrist from where Nosy pulled him out of his hot tub tomb before climbing into his rocketship and flying back to his home planet.

Though neither of them are dead, Burrich has conveniently forgotten that Fitz is a baby assassin, and Fitz probably can't be a baby assassin anymore because he has about thirty seizures a day due to being poisoned and then poisoned again and then blugeoned and kicked and drowned all in the space of like thirty minutes.

They spend a long time recovering in Jhaampe, even after Kettricken and Regal (remember him? he's still alive) go down to Buckkeep. Burrich tells Fitz that they're friends again and that he'll go wherever Fitz goes because he's wearing the 'DADDY' collar. Fitz says, "Because you... view me as a parental figure? I guess?"

Burrich replies, "Sure. We'll go with that." NEXT TIME, ON DRAGON BOOK Z: Fitz has his Hot Girl Summer, immediately followed by his Shit’s Wack Winter, in ROYAL ASSASSIN ABRIDGED!

#rote #assassin's apprentice #farseer trilogy #fitzchivalry farseer #robin hobb #aa abridged #farseer trilogy abridged

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mariacallous · 2 months

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Salmon croquettes aren’t exactly the most elegant dish. Traditionally made with canned salmon, some bread crumbs or matzah meal, eggs and seasoning, they are an easy and cheap way to throw together a meal. These classic patties, which are also referred to as salmon latkes, croquettes or cakes, may seem out of fashion to the young folks who came of age after the food revolutions of the late 20th century, but for me they will always be the ultimate comfort food. With the explosion of increasingly global ingredients at the ready and the emphasis on fresh food, all steered us away from the pre-1970s casserole-from-a-can type of cookery. And yet, classic old-time foods remain beloved, if not perhaps back in fashion.

No one in my mom’s or grandma’s generation made salmon croquettes with fresh salmon. Canned food had become popular during the Civil War, and even more so during WWI, when soldiers needed food that was convenient, safe and tasty. Canned salmon in particular became a household staple during the Depression, when meals had to be nutritious but also as cheap as possible, made with inexpensive proteins and stretched with filler to feed the whole family. New Deal subsidies helped make canned salmon economical enough for most of the immigrant and first-generation Jewish families at the time. And because salmon is kosher and pareve (neither meat nor dairy), the canned kind became ubiquitous in Jewish households, because fresh salmon was neither cheap nor readily available.

Beyond the convenience, ease and cost, salmon croquettes occupy a particular place in my heart because they were also my mother’s last meal before she passed away. She didn’t know it would be the very last thing she ate when she fussed about the kitchen fixing up a batch of salmon croquettes for lunch. But had she known, my mother would have chosen them anyway. They were among her favorite foods and she made them at least once a week for as long as I can remember. As she used to say, “you just mix a can of salmon with an egg and as much matzah meal or bread crumbs as you need to shape them into patties.”

It was the only dish my mother prepared just for herself, and, if I were visiting, for me too. That particular day, my aunt was over and the two sisters shared a salmon latke lunch while discussing whatever two older widowed women talk about in private.

My dad had always refused to eat salmon croquettes because his mother made them so often when he was a kid, he had “enough for a lifetime,” he explained. They were a Jewish staple as far as we knew: Everybody’s mother or grandmother made them for lunch or for a “dairy” meal in the summer, capped off with sliced bananas and sour cream sprinkled with sugar.

The recipe didn’t deviate too much, though my mom would sometimes mixed in fresh dill and a chopped scallion if she had. She shaped them about 1-inch thick and fried them in vegetable oil. We would eat them hot or cold, plain or with sliced tomatoes, and during Passover, on matzah.

While have moved more towards using fresh salmon when I make them, I still sometimes revert to using canned salmon (red, just like my mother said). I’ve added a little of this and that too: one of my family’s favorites includes mashed potatoes and fresh spinach. The thing is, the “recipe” for salmon croquettes is so basic it asks the modern cook to do what our grandmas did: add a bissel of this or that, perhaps some harissa, grated fresh ginger, horseradish or soy sauce. I’ve seen recipes that call for mustard, cooked peas, shredded carrots, chopped jalapenos or grated onion. Some people coat the patties with panko before frying them, to give them extra crispiness. And the latest version: salmon croquettes made in an air fryer!

Salmon latkes. Croquettes. Whatever you call them, they’re still going strong. After all, what’s old is always new again.

My mom died suddenly, unexpectedly, an hour or so after enjoying that lunch. I always feel a little sad when I make salmon croquettes, remembering that day. But I also smile to myself, knowing how much she enjoyed that last simple, perfect meal.

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throttlegainwell · 6 months

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🤩 with Jonathan for the ask game

Hi! Thanks for the ask.

So here's where my "Karen cares about Jonathan" agenda comes out. This is from the pdwm-'verse, shortly after Lonnie left. (It's way too long for a snippet, but it's part of a longer WIP, so I'm counting it, lol.)

“You sure know your way around a kitchen,” Karen observed. “I cook a lot," he said. "At home.” “Do you like to cook?” she asked. He shrugged. “I like it okay.” “It’s so nice, the way you help your mom out with that.” She bit back a wince at the tactlessness of it even as it was passing her lips. He wasn’t cooking to be nice, or even to ease Joyce’s burden. At the moment, he was cooking so that everyone could eat. He nodded, smiling vaguely enough that she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

The knife moved slowly in his hand, clutched a little awkwardly. “Like this,” she said, reaching for another knife to show him how to hold it, the motions to aim for. Her movements were slow, but her demonstration was brief. When she looked up, he was drinking it in, eyes trained on her hands like there was going to be a test. He’d already adjusted his hold on the knife and was chopping a little more confidently. She rewarded him with a wide smile, then turned back to the onions sweating on the stove. “What do you like to make?” “I only know how to make a few things.” She glanced over at his cutting board. He had the motions down, but his fingers still weren’t curled just right on the knife, a little too close to the path of the blade for her comfort. She reached out, a little halting. “May I?” His eyes had widened the moment she’d reached for him, shoulders drawing in, head jerking back an inch—something like a flinch that didn’t quite finish. One she’d have overlooked, maybe, if not for the wariness that jumped to his face, deep lines of suspicion that aged him in seconds. Made an accusing young man out of a tired boy. She waited with her hand still outstretched, hovering over his. He nodded. She was careful as she adjusted the curl of his fingers, moved his thumb to a safer position. Careful, but efficient, not lingering longer than she had to. “I could give you some of my recipes, if you’d like,” she said. Her voice was as light and easy as she could make it, firmly refusing to make anything of the last minute. “If you want to branch out.” She kept it to herself that they were all budget meals, mostly pantry staple ingredients and easy ways to stretch a buck. They kept okay in the fridge for a few days, mostly froze well, and were hearty. But she was sure he’d notice that. So would Joyce. Ted was easy enough to please, but the kids complained sometimes about them, so they only made an appearance once a week or so. Still, she’d kept the recipes. She was glad that her kids could complain about the starch-laden staples that she’d grown up on. “Oh, you don’t have to,” he said, a nervous kind of laugh in his voice, like he really thought it would be some kind of imposition for her to write out a few recipes for him. “It’s no trouble,” she assured. “We’ll just get dinner in the oven, and you can come pick out a few that you think the three of you might like. Or maybe just something you’d like to try.” He bit his lip, eyes narrowed in something she might call suspicion on an older face. Something more like an anxious wariness. But it broke, the tension sliding away, and she even got a little smile—confused as it was—before he looked down at his feet. “That’d be really nice of you.” “Really, it’s no trouble. And once you have a few staples and you get comfortable with them, I bet you’ll get comfortable improvising with whatever you’ve got in the house. Maybe even get really creative.” “There’s always food in the house,” he said quietly. She set down her paring knife to look at him, eyes wide and soft. “Oh, I know, honey. Of course there is. I just meant the day or so before grocery shopping days, or when Joyce is busy and can’t get to the store right away. It’s nice to be able to whip up something reliable and substantial. Always made me feel more secure.” “Did you…” He cleared his throat, blinking up at her. “Did you, uh, do a lot of cooking, growing up?” “Well, you have to, don’t you, when you’re the oldest?” “You’re the oldest?” “Mhmm. And when there are younger siblings, you learn how to feed them. Or I did, anyway—everyone took care of something. My thing was the kitchen.” She paused to reach for the pile of carrots he’d chopped and tipped them into the pan. “My mother was a wonderful cook. Not a lot to work with, in those days, but she worked miracles.” She glanced up at him, from the corner of her eye. His shoulders were finally starting to relax, hands stilled on the board while his face shifted in thought.

#ask game #jonathan byers #karen wheeler #please don't wake me series #cleaned up with a wise mind pdwm

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supernatural-rp · 2 years

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Dean Winchester X Fem!reader

{Adopted Sister}

‼️TW:‼️Mentions of death, trauma, nightmares, flashbacks, {slight} panic attack

Earlier that night after Sam, Dean, and Y/N returned from a hunt, things went downhill with Y/N. The Winchesters had adopted her when she was younger. After having lost her mom and dad at a young age, Dean and Sam took her in under their wing.

Now, she was 18 years old. She still had nightmares and flashbacks from the night that she watched her parents die. The night she was saved by Sam and Dean. As Y/N laid there in her bed, tears rolled down her cheeks as she remembered what it was like to have a family. To have her mom and dad with her. It wasn’t long before she finally cried herself to sleep.

The next case they took on, left a hole in Y/N’s heart. The shapeshifter had somehow managed to convince her that her mother was still alive. She chased after something that wasn’t there.

“Y/N?! Where the hell did she go?” Dean said, scouring back around the building. Sam met back up with Dean at the Impala.

“Let’s hope the shapeshifter didn’t get her.” Sam said worriedly. Dean rolled his eyes. “Nah, she’s gotten pretty good at being a hunter. Ain’t no monster messing with her.” Dean leaned against the Impala.

A few minutes later, Y/N came running up. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Let’s go!” She quickly hopped into the back seat, as she leaned against the window.

Dean glanced at Y/N as he and Sam got in. Dean started up the Impala and drove off. He kept looking back at her. “Y/N? What happened back there, kid?” Dean asked. Sam looked back at her. A worried and concerned expression came over his face.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” She replied, as she stared at the window, watching the trees and buildings fly by.

Later that evening, Dean went to check on his little sister. He knocked on her door. “Hey, kid, dinner is ready.” When he got no response, he listened closely as heard soft crying.

He picked her door’s lock, and went inside, closing the door behind him. He knelt down, lifting her chin up. He saw her eyes red from crying and her wet cheeks.

“Talk to me, Y/N. What happened back there?” Dean asked her. “And don’t say nothing. I know something happened.”

“The shapeshifter- he- he-looked like her. I thought he was-“ She began to have a panic attack. “I thought she was alive. I thought-” Her were shaking, her breathing was rapid.

Dean grabbed both of her hands in his. He knew she was having a panic attack. “Listen to me, I know that watching your parents die the way that you did was torture, but you are not alone. You have me and Sammy. And Cas. And not to mention, Jack too. So, whatever that shapeshifter made you think, it wasn’t real.” He told her softly, lifting her chin up with his hand.

Y/N sniffled. Dean wiped her tears away. “He looked like my mother, Dean. I really thought she was alive somehow.” Y/N told him. “And I see all these other girls with their moms and dads and it makes me think about the night mine died. If you and Sammy hadn’t been there when you did, I wouldn’t be here. It’s not fair, Dean.”

Dean listened to her. “I know you do, I know it’s not fair. And I’m sorry that Sammy and I didn’t get there in time to save your parents, but we did save you.” Dean kissed the top of her head. “Come on, I got you your favorites. Double bacon cheeseburgers with extra extra bacon, onion rings, and fried pickles.” He smiled a little. She smiled and took his hand. “You got the pie right?” She asked. “You’re damn right I got the pie.” He followed after her back to the kitchen.

Sam looked up as his brother and sister came back into the kitchen. “You alright, Y/N?” Sam asked her. He could tell she’d been crying.

She shook her head, sitting down on the couch. “The shapeshifter looked like my mom.” And that was Y/N said, before eating her food quietly.

Dean looked at her, then back at Sam. “I wish we’d gotten there sooner.” He whispered to his brother. Sam nodded in agreement. “I know. Me too.”

Castiel and Jack returned not long after the previous nights events. Y/N was passed out on the couch. Dean had covered her up with a blanket.

“Is she okay?” Castiel asked, walking in with Jack following behind him.

“Shapeshifter got to her. Made her think it was her mother.” Dean replied with a mouthful of pie. “You guys missed everything.”

Jack looked over at a sleeping Y/N. “Has she been up all night?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, Dean and I stayed up with her. Comforting her.” Sam replied.

“You guys should go get some sleep. Me and Jack will look over her.” Castiel said, looking at Sam then at Dean.

“If anything happens, Cas, you wake us up.” Dean told him. Then, he headed off to his room to get some sleep. Then, Sam went to his room.

#dean winchester #fem!reader #adopted little sister #supernatural imagine #supernatural #jensen ackles

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foreverfallingforthestars · 2 years

Text

here's a fact. hating someone is exhausting. [part 4]

Here's the final part of this fic! Thank you all for reading this!

Word Count: 2166 Content warning: explicit language, implied sexual content Read on AO3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

~~~~~~~~

The sex had become regular for them.

Sleeping over? Not so much, but it happened here and there.

Eating breakfast together the next morning? Unheard of.

Until today.

It was weirdly domestic, and Aelin kind of liked that. She had never been in a relationship long enough to get to the “stay over and eat breakfast” stage, and it was weird that it was with a guy she wasn’t even dating. But at this point, they technically were?

With a week left until the interview, their squabbles at work were still the same, but it was barely antagonistic, merely playful. People would quietly gossip about how an HR complaint hadn’t been made in close to two weeks.

Whenever they were alone in their designated seating area near Manon’s office, they would just talk about anything and everything while working. That was the friendly relationship she had wanted with Rowan when he had first started, and Aelin was secretly glad to have finally gotten that with some great sex on the regular.

She had learned that Rowan was a fantastic cook thanks to him living on his own since he was 18, and Aelin could now back that up as she enjoyed the omelet he made her with onions, tomatoes, and green bell peppers. Something else that she had learned was that Rowan was not afraid to tease her while at work. As he told her that his mom had forced him into piano as a kid, he mentioned that he was almost as good at the piano as he was at playing her, causing her to blush and then chuck her pen at him. He laughed, and unwillingly, so did she, and she learned another thing about Rowan at that moment.

She really, really liked his laugh. It was exhilarating to watch the way his face would transform while he laughed. His eyes crinkled at the sides, barely open, accompanied by a bright smile, and whenever Aelin could make him laugh, she felt as though she had accomplished something.

Besides her learning more about him, Aelin had also told Rowan things about herself like her penchant for doodling all over anything and everything, about how her first love was drawing and then business — that the reason she wanted the communications position was to be able to combine her academic and creative side of things in her work.

He seemed enthusiastic to hear about her art and what she was passionate about, just as much as she was to learn everything about him. It was dangerous to get to know Rowan like this in a way that made her want him more than just in a physical sense, especially because they were competing for the same job, but she couldn’t help it. She liked him, more than she thought she would.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Rowan asked with a gentle kick to her ankle from underneath the table, jolting her out of her thoughts. “You’ve been mindlessly chewing for a bit. Or is my cooking blowing your mind?”

Aelin contemplated how to express what she was thinking. She was typically direct and straightforward when she was thinking of something — partially why the animosity between her and Rowan hadn’t been secret — but how did she go about telling the man she very much disliked a few weeks ago that she very much liked him?

“The food was great,” she instead started off with. In that split second, Aelin decided to approach this indirectly at first, and said, “I would love to try your other cooking too.”

“Maybe we’ll get around to it one day,” Rowan responded after a moment of silence. Aelin quietly nodded, forcing a smile on her face. She didn’t want to wait for one day. She wanted it to be today, tomorrow, and the day after that.

She didn’t want to believe that their relationship would have a deadline as the interview approached. Aelin wanted to believe that despite everything, they would get through it together, and if she had to quit if he got the job, then so be it.

With that thought in mind, she decided to go for the direct route.

“I meant tonight,” she clarified, voice wavering. “I want to be able to come over just to eat with you or watch TV with you again tomorrow, the day after that, and the day after that. And don’t ask me if it’s just because I want you to feed me — because after this omelet, I totally do — but because I want this,” she said, waving a hand between the two of them, “to be more.”

Rowan didn’t respond at first, simply kept chewing, and Aelin felt disheartened, but she could deal. She tried to convince herself that it might’ve been better off anyway, but then Rowan reached for her hand and quietly held it while he kept eating. Confused, Aelin stared at him until he squeezed her hand gently twice. He was looking at her with a gentle smile. It wasn’t one that made his eyes crinkle and her heart skip a beat, but it was still one that filled her with warmth.

“I’ll make you pasta for dinner. Tomorrow we can go try out that new Chinese place. How does that sound?”

Aelin smiled, her heart soaring. “That sounds wonderful.”

With a week left to go till the interview, she was officially dating her office (ex-) nemesis, and everything was falling into place.

It wasn’t until the day before the interview that everything came crashing down.

~~~

Aelin walked through the hallway of the building, finally feeling free in a way that she hadn’t felt in a while. The everlasting pressure on her shoulders regarding the job and the CCO promotion had finally gone away in the last week, and with only a day to go until the interview, she was ready to give it her all.

Go big or go home — literally.

She was on her way to meet up with Manon in the conference room to tell her that she would be resigning if she didn’t get the promotion. It didn’t even matter if Rowan got the promotion anymore. If he got the job, it would be fair and well deserved, but she also deserved to get that promotion. It was about time that Aelin recognized her worth, and she knew that a different company would give her the promotion she deserved if it wasn’t here.

Aelin took a deep breath as she approached the conference room that Manon was in. Her boss had a meeting this morning regarding the interview with the panel, which should’ve ended ten minutes ago, and Aelin focused on the clacking on her heels against the linoleum floor to ground her. She was doing the right thing.

What she didn’t expect was to stop short a few feet from the glass door to the conference room when she caught sight of a man she hadn’t met before in person, and yet she recognized him from the photos in boyfriend’s apartment.

It was Rowan’s uncle, and the realization hit Aelin with such force that she took an involuntary step back. She would’ve tripped over her feet, but her back hit someone’s chest before she felt an arm snaking around her waist to steady her.

Instinctively, she knew it was Rowan. She was familiar with the weight of arm, the sturdiness of his chest, and the scent of his cologne, but the fact that his uncle was going to be on the interview panel made her want to hurl. The anger and hurt bubbled up inside of her. No one but her knew the connection between the two — if Manon knew, he’d never be on the panel — and the fact that Rowan was going to use his connections to get a job when he could’ve just joined his dad’s company caused ugly words to rise to her throat.

She knew he’d be hurt, but she wanted him to hurt just as much as she did. He was pitying her this entire time, knowing that he’d get the job, and she’d have to resign either way. Rowan was using her, and she was done.

Aelin ripped herself out of his embrace and turned to look at him with her emotions written clearly on her face. She wanted him to see it all, and she wanted him to feel the sincerity of the words she was going to say.

“You,” she seethed, raising her index finger at him, “knew that he was on the panel. You knew he was going to want to hire you. Is that why you’ve been so nonchalant about this entire thing? You don’t want to work for daddy because he hurt you, but you certainly don’t mind using your fucking connections to get a nice, big promotion.”

“What are you talking about?” Rowan asked, confusion clear in his voice.

Aelin scoffed. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, or are you blind and can’t see your fucking uncle sitting in front of our boss?”

Rowan tilted his head slightly to look into the conference room and recognition filled his features.

“Aelin—”

“Stop, Rowan. How much farther are you going to take this, seriously?” She could feel her heart cracking in her chest, and the worst part was that she hated herself much more than she could ever hate Rowan.

Making a split second decision to talk to Manon later and working the rest of the day from home, Aelin stalked away, making sure she stepped far enough away from Rowan to avoid touching him. She wasn’t sure why, but she expected to try to come after her to explain, and maybe it was the hope she had in her heart, but he never came.

~~~

Aelin found out about the results of the interview fairly quickly after all of them had been finished. Manon came up to her with a big smile on her face and hugged her before she even said a word.

“Congratulations, Aelin. I’m sorry it took this long, but it was very well deserved.” Aelin forced herself to smile as best as she could. The only thing that had gotten her through the interview was pure determination and stubbornness, but now that it was over, it felt like she had been run over by a truck. She hadn’t seen or heard from Rowan since the argument, either.

“Thank you, Manon,” Aelin responded. Manon scrutinized her for a moment before a sigh escaped her.

“Are you thinking about Rowan?” Manon asked, and Aelin jolted.

“No—”

“Because even if you are, you shouldn’t be worrying. He’ll be okay, and you two are going to be magnificent together.”

Aelin was getting exponentially confused at what was going on. “What are you talking about?” she asked, but instead of a response, her boss just giggled and walked away.

“Well, that was weird,” Aelin announced to herself as she turned away to go back to her desk, but she stopped short when Rowan entered her view.

“Congrats,” he said with a small smile, hesitantly stepping closer to her.

“Thanks,” Aelin replied with a bitter smile. “I guess you weren’t using your connections if they gave me the job, instead.”

“I never was, darling.”

The pet name struck her heart, but so did his previous words. “What do you mean?”

“I resigned two weeks ago, Aelin. I had a job offer to be the CTO in a different company, and I took it. Today’s my last day. I was never going to be interviewing. I wanted to surprise you, and I didn’t want you to take the interview easy if you knew I wasn’t competing.”

Rather than feeling any form of happiness or relief, Aelin just felt an intense wave of exhaustion pass over her. She had been stressing and going out of her mind with the way she had hurt so badly over what had happened the previous day, and all he had to do was tell her the truth, but he didn’t.

Then again, it wasn’t like she’d given him the chance.

All of this must’ve shown on her face because Rowan stepped towards her quickly with worry in his eyes, and he wrapped his arms around her. She took a deep breath, finally allowing herself to take solace in his presence the way she wanted to yesterday.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into his shirt, emotion clogging up her throat. “I should’ve let you explain.”

“And I should’ve told you earlier, so I’m sorry too.”

“I can’t believe we’ve reduced ourselves to apologizing,” she spoke, “I think that’s what regular people in healthy relationships do when they fuck up.”

“I don’t think we’re regular people.”

“I swear I thought you were going to say we didn’t have a healthy relationship.”

“I mean, considering how we started off, we didn’t at one point.”

“You’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

“Why can you never take a compliment?”

“I’ll take the compliment when you stop being a dick.”

~~~~~~~

@morganofthewildfire @fireheartwhitethorn4ever @story-scribbler @swankii-art-teacher @larisssss @thegreyj @vasudharaghavan @aelinchocolatelover @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life

#rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #throne of glass #tog fic #throne of glass fic #hating game au #office romance #enemies to lovers

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craftylittlenerd · 1 year

Text

N7 Month Day 15 Cannibal

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43122643

A Turian Delicacy Found on Earth

Crafty_little_nerd (Izzime)

Summary:

Thanks to Gardner, Garrus stumbles on an old Earth Classic recipe that he can't wait to try and share with Shepard.

Notes:

Day 15 challenge is a day late, but I had so much fun writing this one. I hope you all enjoy it too.

For those of you wondering what a cannibal sandwich is, it's a midwest classic, specifically in Wisconsin, where I live. It is literally raw minced beef, raw eggs with salt, pepper, and raw onions mixed together and served on rye bread. It's very similar to steak tartare and a dish you will never see me eat. However, I could easily see a Turian eating this.

Work Text:

Shepard was never one to turn her nose up at a friend who cooked for her, knowing very well what it's like to struggle and surprise someone with a new recipe you just found. Nor was Shepard raised to turn down the food she was offered. Growing up on a homestead, you ate what was made for you, and that was that. However, the raw meat with onion and rye bread was one thing she could never stomach. Yet Garrus looked so proud of his accomplishment.

She was in quite the conundrum. The uncooked beef dish in front of her was something Shepard was well familiar with. Apparently, it was a midwest classic that her grandfather loved; the cannibal sandwich. She could recall countless family gatherings as a kid where this appetizer took center stage. Shepard hated it as a kid, still wasn't a fan of it as an adult. The texture was weird, and the raw onions made her stomach turn. But, she always thought it was strange that whenever she ate raw onions on a cooked burger or had them in a salad, really any other dish but the one in front of her, she was fine.

Maybe it was due to the raw meat. Of course, to avoid anyone getting sick, the meal had to be made with fresh minced beef. But Shepard always found this particular dish unsettling, and she never understood why her grandfather loved it either. Her mom's family wasn't even from the midwest. They had lived in Canada before settling on Mindoir. Yet it was grandpa Gallagher's favorite thing to make.

"Gardner showed me the recipe. He said it was a human delicacy and thought I might like it." Garrus started to say, snapping Shepard back to the present. "When we were in Illum, Gardner gave me the list of ingredients and said he wanted to make it for the crew participating in game night. Even ensured I had enough credits to buy the dextro equivalent."

Shepard nodded, calculating in her head just how long it had been since they left Illium and exactly when Gardner had Garrus go grocery shopping. "When was that exactly?"

"Just yesterday," Garrus looked down. He knew he didn't do anything wrong, but Garrus couldn't explain why he felt so unsure of himself at that moment. He knew Shepard wasn't questioning him to be mean or belittle him. Garrus remembered Gardner instructing him that the meal had to be made within twenty-four hours of buying the food. That he had to keep the meat cold, not frozen, or at room temperature, but cold so no bacteria or other harmful organisms could grow on the minced beef.

"It could make a human sick if not prepared correctly." Garrus recalled Garnder telling him, though the man was unsure about turians seeing as he wasn't a dextro specialist. Garrus had to advise him that turian stomachs were designed to digest raw foods, even if many turian meals were cooked nowadays.

"So the levo version you want to share was also made by you?" Garrus tucked his mandibles tight yet sheepishly to his face indicating that Shepard had made him blush. "Yea, uh, Gardner helped. He had me wear kitchen gloves so I wouldn't cross-contaminate anything." He then sighed and ran his hand over his fringe. "Look, Shepard, it's rare for any of us to do anything nice for you. I just wanted to show you my appreciation and say thanks for saving my ass on Omega and for your help with Sadonis."

It was her turn to blush as Shepard smiled at Garrus for the sweet gesture, even if he did make her least favorite food. She would never tell him, not wanting to insult him or the time he took in learning a human meal they could share. Shepard was about to sit across from Garrus in the mess when she noticed something was missing. "Well then, if we're going to eat this, we got to do it right." Garrus quirked his brow plate as he couldn't imagine what was missing. It wasn't until she came back with two beers in hand that he realized what she was hinting at.

"You've had this before then, I take it?" Garrus asked as Shepard sat down and handed him his beer.

"Yeah, but not in a very long time. It was my grandfather's favorite, and he always had it with a beer."

"Well then, to continuing traditions," Garrus said as he raised his beer to Shepard, as they clinked bottles in a toast.

"Yeah, to traditions." She repeated and enjoyed her meal with Garrus.

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thepinkwriterr · 11 months

Text

Capricorn Season Chapter Twenty-Nine

Table of Contents

Word Count: 2.3k

"Hey, Willie, it's Gwen."

"Hello, Gwen, how are you doing on this fine Tuesday?"

I sighed. "I'm fine. But I have to tell you, I don't have all the shots you asked for."

"Why not?"

”I wasn't feeling well so I skipped a couple of shows. I'll need another week on the deadline."

"Okay, well I'll do what I can. But you know that's going to delay the people buying, right? We need sales to go up. If sales don't go up, then I have to cut you."

"Cut me? I thought everything was running smoothly."

"It is, in a way. But in another way, it's not. I stuck my neck out for you. I've been busting my rump to make sure I get your work out there. Let me tell you, these guys are no joke. They want a hard sell."

"Is there anything I can do in the meantime? We have a break in shows after today."

"Just get me your Black Sabbath photos as soon as possible."

"You got it, boss!"

He let out an awkward clearing of the throat, "I'll see you on the 21st. Don't be late."

"I won't. Love ya, Will." I hung up the receiver and pushed my back against the wall next to it. A heavy sigh escaped my lungs. So much to do and so little time to do it.

I collected my things and headed down the hall to Bonzo's room. When I reached room 207 I gave the door a harsh banging. "Detroit police, open up!" I kept banging until the door gave way to the man. His pants were unzipped, an unbuttoned shirt hanging off his frame.

"What in the fuck are you doing? You scared me half to death!"

"Tiff in there? I need to talk to her." I pushed past Bonzo, making my way into the room. I looked around for her but to no avail.

"She's in the shower. What do you want?"

"I need to talk to her."

"I thought you were here for us," He stepped in front of the bathroom door and lowered his voice, "you agreed to keep her out of the papers for me. I don't want this to get back to Pat."

"Keep your panties on, Johnny. We agreed to play cards today. I need some real women to hang out with. Even with your beautiful locks, you're not pretty enough." I pulled at his damp hair and gave him a cheeky smile. "Plus, your boobs are too small."

"Like you've got any room to talk."

"They were big enough for your mom last night."

"Okay, okay, let's get off of Mothers. I just got off of yours!"

"You have no shame, huh?" I patted his shoulder and made for the door.

"I'm just giving back, love. It seems you're lacking as well. Given what I can see through that shotty cover-up job. Maybe get some Maybelline." My hand flew to my neck, covering the marks from Jimmy's attack last night.

"Fuck you." I slammed the door.

I caught up to Tiffany later that day. Her tawny skin was captivating even under the fluorescent lighting of my hotel room, the beams bouncing off her caramel features. The bridge of her nose was long, the aquiline shape bringing out her beauty.

"Where are you from, Tiffany?"

I made small talk as she dealt the cards. I didn't know much about her. Between shoots and fighting with Bonzo and Jimmy, I didn't have time to talk to her. There was also the immense guilt I felt every time I saw her. She made me nervous. Whenever she was around I felt like I was breaking out in hives. I wanted to tell Lorelei about her and Robert, I really did. I always chicken out. I was too afraid of causing more issues. I was scared of what would happen if I opened my mouth and said what I really wanted to. The guilt was eating me.

We were having lunch in the sun. The burning bulb was finally making an appearance, lighting our wonderful picnic. Jimmy and I were sharing a Tupperware container of strawberries and red grapes. Two sandwiches sat in front of us. His was dressed with everything, lettuce, onion, tomato, pickles, meat, and mustard. Mine, the same but without pickles and tomato. But it was not wonderful to me. I was still filled with dread. I could feel it in my feet and my hair, the stain of guilt.

He had devoured half of his meal and gulped down his water. I was still poking at the remnants of crust and staring at the fruit. He didn't seem to notice my fidgeting. He was looking around, absorbing all the beautiful sights and soaking up the sun. He looked gorgeous, that much I could not deny. Even in my haze of anxiety, I took note of his appearance.

"Are you alright?" He asked, putting an arm around my waist.

"I'm a monster..."

"What?"

"I'm a monster!" I dramatically threw my head onto my folded arms, tears threatening to form. I tried to hold back all of the ugly sounds that would escape me if I started crying.

"What? Did you do something to my sandwich?"

I looked up at him with watery eyes and laughed. I shook my head. "No." I averted my eyes from him, turning my head to look at a team of ducks. They were quacking at each other and dipping their little feathered heads in the water. "Then what's the matter?"

"Nothing. Just... Just drop it. It's not important."

"Hey, look at me," I turned to him, meeting his eyes again. He was so very lovely. It almost hurt to look at him when I felt so terribly. His face was round and innocent, far more demure than the horrible thoughts racing through my head, "It's gonna be okay." He brushed some hair from my eyes, his fingertips resting on my cheeks.

"Stop it," I pushed his hand away, "I can't let you pretend I'm innocent."

"What do you mean?"

"Tiffany and Robert. I know about them and I haven't told Lorelei." He furrowed his brow. "Why would you?"

"Because Lorelei is my friend."

"So?"

"So she would be hurt if she knew Robert slept with someone else."

"Oh, love, you have to put those feelings aside. This isn't the real world, things don't work like that on tour."

"You say that like it makes it any easier to lie to her."

"You're not lying you're just... hiding the truth."

"That's a lie."

"It's a half-truth."

"According to Hebrew proverb, that still makes me a liar."

"Then I'll be your witness and we're both liars."

"Doesn't make it any better. Now I'm dragging you down with me."

"We'll be dirty, lying sinners together, then." He grabbed my hand and caressed my skin once more. His words and actions did little to calm me. I wasn't warmed but I was getting there. His warmth was thawing me.

"Like my ethnicity?"

"Well, no, I just meant specifically. Y'know, where do you lay your head down when this is all said and done?"

"I'm from Spain, but I moved to L.A. when I was a kid. So I guess I reside there. Most of the time, at least. Sometimes the bands take me with them, sometimes they don't. Zeppelin has a reputation for not taking us from the states. But I like John, so I stick around."

"Well, that does make sense. They've all got wives and kids at home."

"Even your man has a status to him. You're the longest girl he's had, other than Pamela."

"Well, I am aware of that. But I'm a firm believer in not asking questions you don't want the answers to. Ignorance is bliss, and I'd like to stay in my state of euphoria. He doesn't care about my past, and I don't ask about his."

"That's a good policy." She crushed her cigarette in the glass tray that sat between us. Her fingernails were long and red, with a sheen of glitter that sparkled.

"I think you're better off not knowing. I think John and Robert are pretty low for doing what they're doing. It's nothing against you, or what you girls do, but they have children. They're fathers, in reality, not in this fake little bubble of fantasy they live in. And it's not fair to anyone. Not fair to you, Pat, the kids, the band. It's all wrong. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, y'know?"

"I hear you, but you can't get too in your head about it. I'm doing this because it's fun. And as soon as I stop having fun, I'm out. But the fun never stops with John."

"Oh, I'm sure it doesn't," I said with a chuckle.

She took sips from her glass of water from a pink straw. When she pulled away I could see the ring of lip gloss left behind. It was a calling card. She was a lovely girl, a beauty not to be understated. I wonder who she could be if not a groupie in L.A. These guys took advantage of them and saw them as nothing more. The thought of my friends being the ones perpetuating this made me angry. I meant what I said, about thinking poorly of the guys. John was the only one with any kind of spine. Even if he indulged, I'm sure he wasn't treating anyone like a whore.

"Well, I fold."

"Awe, c'mon, you can't fold! One more game," I pouted my lips, asking her to stay for longer.

She sighed. "Okay, fine, we can do one more game. And then I have to get going. We have dinner plans."

I cheered and dealt another hand for the both of us.

We talked longer, having nothing else to occupy our time with. She told me all about what music and movies she liked. It turned out that Tiffany was a huge film noir fan. She also really liked The Mamas and The Papas, which was surprising. I took her for more of a BeeGees or Hollies girl. She also loved The Beatles, but who didn't?

I gave her one last look and then she made her way to her room. As she walked out I thought about the men I was with. Who they were in actuality. I put aside the talent and the mythos that surrounded them. And I was left with this conclusion; they took advantage of these women who were in love with them. Even if they didn't want to admit it, I could see it in their faces, the familiar bloom of excitement that graced their features whenever they walked into the room.

Loralie was in love. It was a forbidden and tragic love, but love nonetheless. And I thought about what that did to a person, to fall in love time and time again, only to have them spit in your face. I'd heard whispers of Tiffany's past involvements. Vanilla Fudge, Deep Purple, and even Jefferson Airplane. It pained me to think of what she was giving away each time she fell. Not just her body, but her mind and her heart.

We had 45 minutes until check out and Jimmy was already packing his things, pacing around the small room. I could see all the gears in his head turning. He was wired, marching around frantically, looking for his clothing and bits and bobs he'd brought. This was the daily ritual. Every time we left a hotel he'd spend the last half-hour in a frenzy. I tried my best not to get in his way during these times. Whether it was all the anxiety coming out or a desperate plea for control, he wasn't himself in these times. But today was different. I had a bone to pick and a disregard for his feelings.

"Tiffany told me some interesting things."

"Oh yeah?" This rebuttal was haphazardly thrown my way, as he did not look up from the careful packing of his suitcase. His gaze was cast down into the set of green luggage. He had been unfolding and refolding the same 10 shirts.

"Yeah. She's from Spain, you're a man slut, and she wants to be a model." His hands stilled in the pile of garments. His face wrinkled like parchment and he sent me a nasty look as he picked his head up.

"I'm a what?"

"A man slut. She told me about your reputation."

"I hardly think that's any of her business."

"Maybe not. But I found it interesting."

"Well, tell her to stop her chattering. I don't like to be the topic of conversation." He said with a grimace as he folded a pair of pants.

His anger was amusing to me. Perhaps it was immature of me to pick at him because I was upset. I wouldn't tell him that it troubled me to hear of his past. We'd already had the conversation about him sleeping with other women. He always denied it and said he never thought of another woman since being with me. I wondered if it were true. The thought of it being a lie tore me apart. The thought of him being with another, the way Robert was, killed me.

"I'm sorry, I'm being immature." I didn't elaborate further.

"It's alright. Jesus, I can't fit these in here. I can't figure it out, it's the same amount as the last time I packed it!" He didn't ask me to go any further. I figured he wasn't really listening, or if he was it was only in the way of hearing me.

"Let me help you." I sighed and walked across the room to him. I took all of his things out of the suitcase and started to rearrange them. He stood over me, watching intently as I worked. "Can I help you?" I asked, stopping and looking at him. He uttered an apology and took a step back.

I finished packing his things and shut the suitcase, "There, all done." I patted his arm and stepped away.

----

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