#Scallop Pie

[veryverycoolvampirre]

TAKE MY SUPER LAZER EMILY REDESIGN!!!!

[queeniecook]

💖

[witherfide]

help since when did i like egg so much

[loveabledustbunny]

Jennifer doodles because she is real

[copingwithcomics]

[fieriframes]

[I can't eat anymore. All right. I'm full unless you got one more surprise. I prefer not to. Asparagus, Arborio rice, add our fish stock, salt and pepper, a little bit of butter, Romano cheese, and then we top it with pan-seared scallops.]

[yatiso]

oh my g-d this nice old lady has been bringin in some stuff for one my bosses to work on and as a token of her appreciation she brought in a full dinner for him… but the missus is cookin tonite so he gave me the dinner… okay i remember why ppl love food

[eddiediaaz]

if you chose other, please let me know in the tags! i'm always looking to try new food.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Bloom 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, allusions to trauma, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After wasting much of your youth in a toxic situation, things are starting to look up. That’s until you meet a certain flower seller.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Note: It’s suiting that it's hump day cause I feel like cole is into that.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You slice into a cucumber, moving the knife carefully. As you focus on the task, you notice Aunt Bev’s glances. Are they intentional or is she concerned? You keep the blade steady and slow, sure not to catch your fingertips. 

“Hon, did you want to borrow one of my skirts for dinner?” She offers. 

You look down at yourself. You think the jeans and tee are just fine but now you’re doubting yourself. You blink at her and shrug. 

“Should I?” 

“It’s up to you, of course. Just whatever you’re comfortable in. I just have this nice blue flowery one and it suits you better.” 

“Well, I...” you put the knife down and gather up the cucumber in your hands, dumping it onto the bowl of lettuce, “I could try it on.” 

You grab the dish rag and wipe your hands. You just want to make her happy. You never had someone like Aunt Bev, someone who is happy over the smallest things. She makes everything you do seem like some great achievement. 

“Oh, come on, it’ll be nice,” she insists and gestures you down the hall, “in here.” 

You follow her upstairs to the bedroom she shares with your uncle. She rolls open her closet as she hums. She pulls out a wrap skirt; blue petals on white. 

“You’ll need a shirt to go with it,” she insists, “one sec.” 

She hands you the skirt and turns to sift through a dresser draw. She pulls out a plain chiffon blouse with a little scallop at the bottom. “It will go nicely.” 

“Thanks, uh, but what... what if I spill?” 

“That’s okay, honey,��� she holds out the shirt, “you can keep them. They’ll look much better on you.” 

“Oh, uh,” you look down then up again. 

“You just get changed,” she sweeps past you, “I’ll be downstairs.” 

You can’t deny her. The door closes before you can even think of changing your mind. It would be rude to say no anyway. They’re such nice clothes. You look down at what you’re wearing and crumple inside. You made the wrong choice again. You should’ve known to dress up for company. 

You change as quickly as you can. You carry your clothes back downstairs and into the small room you’ve been allotted. It was once Aunt Bev’s craft room. You feel bad about that too. 

You return to the kitchen. She’s not there. You rinse some cherry tomatoes and quarter them on the wooden cutting board. As you do, you hear voices. 

Aunt Bev strolls in as Cole follows her. You don’t turn to see. You’re too shy. You hope he doesn’t even notice you. 

“Oh, honey, you look lovely,” she chimes as she nears the counter and sets down a round pan, “isn’t it wonderful, Cole brought dessert.” 

“Ma sent a pie,” he explains, “do you like rhubarb?” 

You want for Aunt Bev to answer. She doesn’t. You look up and over and realise they’re watching you. Oh. 

“Uh, I never had it.” 

“Never had rhubarb?” Cole blusters, “well good news, my ma makes the best strawberry rhubarb crumble.” 

“Um, oh, thanks,” you try to smile but your lips just strain tightly over your teeth. You turn back to the counter and add the tomatoes to the bowl. 

“Salad looks yummy. Very colourful,” he comes closer. He’s so tall you can’t help but shrink down. “Bev’s right, that’s a really nice skirt. Suits you.” 

“Thanks,” you cheep. 

“Can I help with anything?” He offers. 

You look around him at Aunt Bev. She smiles and gestures as if to say, ‘go on’. You turn back to the cutting board and lay the knife down. 

“I’m almost done,” you say, “no thank you.” 

“Well, when you’re done, honey, why don’t you show him the garden?” Bev suggests, “she has really livened it up, you know? She spends hours out there.” 

“I’m sure. I’m excited to see it,” Cole agrees as he lingers close by, “nice house. Cozy.” 

“Ah, you know, we try to make it home,” your aunt preens. “I didn’t even say how nice you look. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a tie.” 

“Shucks,” he waves her off as he leans on the counter right next to your work space. 

You go to the fridge to get the container of feta and come back to sprinkle it over the salad. 

“Smells delicious too. Did you cook all this?” Cole asks as he looks down at you. 

“No,” you shake your head, “just the salad.” 

“She’s a good helper,” Bev beams and nears, taking the bowl from in front of you, “I’ll just go set this out on the patio table, why don’t you two go check out the garden?” 

“I’d love to,” Cole stands straight, “ladies.” 

He waves ahead of him and you hesitate. You pause to put the feta away then follow Bev towards the sliding doors. She goes out onto the deck and plants the large bowl on the wooden table. She stays there as you drag your feet past. You do your best to keep moving as you feel Cole getting too close. 

You go down the steps, nearly stumbling at the bottom. You cross your arms as you approach the garden where daffodils stand tally among the pansies. He puts his hands on his hips as he steps up. His blue eyes rove over the foliage as he peruses it thoughtfully. 

You peek over at him. He wears pale khakis and a grey button up rolled to his elbows, a trim of teal along the buttons. He wears a tie in a darker shade of grey as his hair is even fluffier than the last time you saw him. You shy away before he can catch you. 

“Wow, it’s so nice, and the placement is wonderful. Great for crossbreeding,” he points around. “You know a lot about plants?” 

“I read,” you say. “Library books. Aunt Bev brings them home.” 

“I love the library,” he chirps. 

“Oh, I don’t... I haven’t gone.” 

“Yet,” he insists, “one day, I’m sure.” 

You nod and fold your arms. You sway and search the grass. He kneels by the edge of the garden and touches a leaf. 

“What happened to your daylilies?” He asks. 

You bounce on your toes, “put them in my room.” 

“Really? You must have petals all over,” he chuckles as he continues to rustle the plants, feeling each one. “Do you have a favourite?” 

“I don’t know, they’re all pretty.” 

You nibble your lip. He talks a lot. He makes you talk a lot. You sniff and squeeze your arms. 

“Don’t get lost out there,” Aunt Bev startles you as she calls from the deck, “I’m about to bring the rest of the food out.” 

“Ah, thanks, Beverly,” Cole waves at her and smiles, turning to look at you, “shall we?” 

“Okay,” you don’t move. He doesn’t either. 

“You go first,” he says. 

You do as he says and he follows. The skirt flutters around your legs, swirling in a way that tickles the back of your knees. You’re not used to it. You never really wore one before.  

As you come up on the deck, he trails you toward the table. He sidles past you and pulls out a chair before you can do it yourself. He opens his hand to the seat, “please.” 

“Uh, thanks, you don’t have to...” 

“My ma always taught me manners,” he assures. 

You sit and he slides the chair toward the table, trapping you in it. He claims the one next to you, his elbow almost on the armrest of yours. You make yourself small. You’re really good at that. You miss when you could be invisible. 

Bev appears again, a long pare of tongs in her hand. She approaches the roiling BBQ and opens it up. As she turns the drumsticks, she smiles over at the table. 

“Don’t you two look ready to eat,” she trills. “I just told the others to come out and get a plate. Just gotta get this chicken and the potatoes.” 

She uses the tongs to transfer the drumsticks to a large serving plate. Cole clears his throat and gets up. He goes to take it from her and brings it to the table. 

“You are just the biggest, sweetheart,” she grins, “your mother must be so proud. Such a lucky lady.” 

“I do what I can,” he says, “don’t want you to burn yourself.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry about me. You do too much of that,” she removes the wrapped potatoes from the grill next, “I can’t thank you enough for helping us last weekend.” 

“Really, it’s fine. It was a very busy weekend,” he meets her again to take the next tray, “I can tell a lost soul when I see one. I figured it was best to get her out of the tide before it swallowed her up. Sometimes I even get overwhelmed.” 

“It really was so amazing,” she insists, “we got more than enough. You make sure you take leftovers for your mother. She sent that lovely pie.” 

“Sure,” he agrees easily as he sets down the potatoes. He sits down once more, further crowding you. Is he that big or that oblivious. “She’s a nice girl,” he peers over at you and you look at the table, “I couldn’t just let her get lost.” He turns slightly in his chair, towards you, “I hope it didn’t scare you away. I have some new stuff I’m bringing next week; thought maybe you’d like to see.” 

“Oh, you know that would be so lovely, honey.” 

“If that’s too much,” Cole leans his elbow on the arm rest and extends his fingers as he speaks, “she could come up and see them at the farm. Right in their natural habitat.” 

“The farm?” Bev exclaims, “how exciting.” 

“Of course, you’re all welcome to come up and see. My ma loves having a full house but my sister never comes around anymore and it was only ever the two of us. She always wanted more but, ah, you know?” 

“That’s too bad,” Bev says, “but that would be so wonderful. Honey, wouldn’t you like to go see all his flowers?” 

“I could use some help potting too, if you have a set of hands to spare,” he suggests. “Not that I’m looking for free labour, I just... figured.” 

“We’d love to help out, wouldn’t we, honey?” 

That’s it. She’s given the answer for you. You can’t disagree with her or you’d be mean. You’re not a mean person. Not like she always said you were. 

“Sure,” you murmur. 

“We’ll make a day of it,” she sings, “just let me know when.” 

“Will do,” Cole says brightly. “Sorry, I’m a dweeb about these things. I don’t really meet a lot of people who like flowers as much as me.” 

“We can all use friends,” Bev goes to the sliding door and pushes it open, “right, hon?” You nod, choked of your voice and she sighs as she pokes her head inside, “where is everyone?” 

🌷

You help clear the table after dinner. You sit down as Cole gets up and you’re relieved to be on your own. The others sit on the other side of the table; Uncle Morris along with your cousins, Mason and Lena. The latter two are on their phones and Uncle Morris chews on toothpick. 

You’re content enough to watch the clouds in the sky. Aunt Bev is so good at keeping things lively but you never know what to say. You don’t really feel safe around anyone but her. She’s the one who found you, who helped you. 

You look down at your hands and the faded welts. There’s more up your forearms and on your legs. They are almost indiscernible, though a few are stark enough to be picked out. You rub your hands together, as if you might wipe them away. Some memories are wrought as much into your skin as your mind. 

The sliding door opens and your Uncle Morris sits up and pats his stomach, “ah, about time. Dessert! The best part of dinner.” 

Bev and Cole dole out the saucers. Yours is placed before you as he sits next to you again. You take your fork and spin it nervously. Morris is quick to dig in as your aunt asks Mason and Lena about school. Their conversation edges you out, but you’re used to that. You prefer it. You never have much to add. 

“You gonna try it?” Cole keeps his voice low as he pokes at his crumble. 

“Oh, uh, sure,” you scoop up some of the reddish pink goop and oats. 

“You have to tell me the truth, if you like the rhubarb. I gotta report back to ma.” 

You nod and take a bite. You don’t like how he watches. It makes you self-conscious. His eyes linger on your hand as you slid the fork from your mouth and chew the tart dessert. Your cheeks pinch and you swallow tightly. You like it. 

“Well?” He nudges you and you wince. “Oh, sorry, are you okay? Was that too hard?” 

“No, I... I liked it,” you put the fork down and try to hide your arms. They’re oversensitive. Most of you is; just brushing against furniture can make you whimper. “Thank you.” 

“Told you, ma makes the best,” he proclaims, but a vee of worry remains between his brows, “you sure I didn’t hurt you?” 

“Yes, I’m sure,” you insist. You have to act normal. 

You grab your fork and take another bite. He continues to watch you, moving the crumble around as he does. You wish he'd stop looking so much. 

“Oh, wow, did that hurt?” He points to the back of your hand. That one scar that stands out. 

“No,” you lie. 

“What happened?” 

You shake your head, “nothing.” 

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you hiss and drop your fork. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“I’m not upset,” your eyes well and you flick your lashes. Your hand throbs. You hear the snap of the switch, you feel it against your tendons. You want to scream but you can’t. “I’m fine, I’m fine...” 

“I...” Cole babbles and looks around. The table is silent as you gulp for air. 

“Oh, hon,” Aunt Bev gets up and comes around to your chair, “have some water, alright?” 

“I didn’t... I don’t know what I did,” Cole stutters. 

“It’s not you, sweetie,” Bev pets your hair as she offers the glass of water. “She’s okay. She was out in the sun today, she gets a bit faint.” 

You want to cry even more. Not just for the embarrassment. Because you’re grateful. Because she lies so easily for you. She protects you like no one else ever has. 

“Can I go inside?” You whisper. 

“Sure, hon, I’ll put your dessert aside for you,” she smiles.  

[jo-harrington]

Peak Sales Hours (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: After his first Black Friday, Eddie is exhausted and takes comfort in his new relationship with you.

Previous Part: Promotion

Warnings/Themes: Established friendship/new relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort(?), idk it's a lot of comfort, working in retail hell, Eddie works at Tape World and Reader is the Store Manager at Claire's in Starcourt Mall, angry customers, weariness

Note: So...hi guys. Welcome back to the Store Manager Verse. This little installment is sort of skipping a step. I had a whole thing planned and half-written of Eddie and our favorite SM actually confessing their feelings and being fluffy...and it's still gonna happen I'm just...on day whatever of work and have a big deadline and have had sleep for lunch the past I-don't-know how many days.

And it just took me back to the countless Black Friday and Peak Holiday shifts where all I wanted was to get back home. So here we are.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

___

Never, in his entire life, had Eddie Munson felt more akin to the heroes from his favorite fantasy stories.

Long journeys and harrowing battles.

Deep wounds and comrades lost to the beyond.

Hoards of villains and the promise of a better future if only there was hope.

Taran. Aragorn. Luke Skywalker. They had seen it all.

"What's taking so long? I just need a gift receipt!"

But none of them had ever worked Black Friday.

He had experienced Black Friday before, as a shopper.

Thanksgiving hadn't ever been anything magnificent in the Munson household, especially after his mom died. Wayne and Rick had always tried to make it still feel special for Eddie, with hearty midwest comfort foods.

There would always be a full belly and an even fuller heart with his uncle and his almost-step-dad around. Eddie could never complain.

Then after a late afternoon dinner, Wayne would pack up a plate of leftovers to make his shift at the plant that paid time-and-a-half, plus a little something extra from the plant manager, cash in hand. By the time Eddie woke up the next morning, Wayne would pull up with a box of fresh donuts, honk three times, and they would be on their way to the Kmart on Rt 9 and get some steeply discounted goods with Wayne's holiday pay.

It was always a madhouse, but Eddie could swiftly dodge screaming kids, empathize with over-caffeinated employees, and wait in long lines if he and Wayne didn't need to fret about things like work boots and gloves, t-shirts and underwear, and usually one nice little Christmas gift for each of them.

This year, of course, had been a little different. Wayne had been a little disappointed--he would never admit it, but Eddie could tell--that their tradition would be forsaken for Eddie's shift at the mall. But your addition into the Thanksgiving festivities had been a welcome one.

Eddie had extended the invitation weeks ago, when you mentioned you wouldn't be able to make it home to spend the holiday with your family thanks to work.

You, of course, promised to pull your weight--

"It's always really casual," he tried to ease your worries as you began to fret over what kind of dessert Wayne and Rick might like. "You don't even need to dress up. Come in your pajamas. Rick makes a really good pumpkin pie, and I have my mom's old scalloped potato recipe that will literally put you in a food coma."

"What about turkey?" you asked.

"We don't really do turkey." He shrugged. "There's only three of us. So we do different things every year. Rick usually catches some kind of fish if it's warm enough. Wayne has a good recipe for fried chicken. We were thinking of doing meatloaf..."

"I can do the meatloaf!" You perked up immediately.

--only to show up laden with a roasting pan for the meatloaf, a plastic-wrapped gravy boat full of some kind of mushroom gravy, a salad, and a casserole dish overflowing with green beans, cream-of-something soup, and heaps of french fried onions.

Eddie, of course, scolded you as you shuffled through to the kitchen, much like he had the first time you showed up for dinner at his place. But he also placed a soft peck on your lips, which earned him a bashful smile as you shoo'd him away.

That was a new development to your...friendship, if you could even call it that anymore. There really hadn't been time to discuss the logistics between the frenzied makeout session in his van outside of the Hideout this past Tuesday night and Thanksgiving dinner.

Now that he had been trapped at the cash wrap, ringing out ungrateful customers for the past 8 hours, he was almost loathing his past self for wanting to be a little discreet in front of Wayne and Rick. For not...making himself have the "what are we" conversation with you, because your lips had soothed every frazzled nerve he had the other night.

Knowing that at the end of the day that he wasn't going through it alone, that his girlfriend was also in the mall suffering through the mass chaos and that he could go upstairs and steal a kiss whenever he wanted...well it certainly would have done him a world of good to mentally prepare him for this.

For the entirety of his time working at Tape World, he thought he had been doing a pretty good job. Sure there were some hard days, some rude customers. But at the end of the day, an 8-hour shift was an 8-hour shift, and he was only selling tapes. Not...ending world hunger.

"Ah you say that now," Kyle told him on Wednesday as they were putting together cardboard "dump bins" for the discount tapes that would be placed every 10 feet in the store. "But Black Friday is a beast, and Christmas Eve is worse. You're honestly lucky you only work here and not at, like, Radio Shack or something. My buddy Todd has seen some shit.

"Actually, I'm almost regretting scheduling you as a mid but I needed a second key." Kyle rubbed the back of his neck. "Peak Hours. Mid's a rough shift for Black Friday weekend."

"I'll be fine," Eddie scoffed. "I've done mid shifts before. I'm almost excited. How bad could it get?"

Famous. Last. Words.

He had barely been able to squeeze into the store when it was time for his shift, the line for the cash wrap blocked the way to the stockroom door. As soon as people saw his name tag, they started shouting at him to open the other register, how they needed help; he could barely get a word out to explain that he wasn't clocked in yet. They didn't care.

He was no longer Eddie Munson, Tape World Keyholder and your boyfriend, probably, maybe...

He was a body who could unlock the electronics case and ring them out.

He was a husk who said "welcome in" and "thanks have a great day" and smiled until his face started hurting.

And for the first time since he had gotten this job back at the beginning of summer...it really fucked with him.

His legs were cramped from standing at the Cash Wrap for so long, he wasn't sure which of the associates had his keys, his hair was damp with sweat even if he threw it into a some haphazard bun hours ago.

He'd been yelled at by more people than he could count, counted so much change the edges of his fingers were pretty much stained from all the muck and grime on everyone's money, and had made so many returns from people with buyer's remorse that he was sure they had given more money back than they had made in sales today.

Eddie hadn't even gotten a chance to take his lunch out in the mall and pay you a visit like he typically would. He had just collapsed in the little metal folding chair in the break area of the tiny stock room. Kyle had clapped him on the shoulder with a quick "good job kid" as he left for the day and Eddie hadn't even moved.

"Alright Ed," Paulie shuffled over as Eddie wrapped up the last in a long line of transactions and was about to wave the next customer over. "Quitting time."

Eddie sighed and backed against the counter as Paulie counted him down. The adrenaline of the day finally started to wear off as he came to realize that it was all over, and a weariness unlike the one he had been feeling his entire shift settled deep into his bones.

He went through the motions as he went back to the stockroom to grab his jacket and punch out. He wove his way through the still-crowded store and out into the mall, sighing in relief as the cooler mall air hit him.

It was gonna be a mercy once he got out to his van. He'd drive home with the windows down.

His ears rang as he headed towards the employee entrance and he wondered if it would be worth waiting in line at the Orange Julius before he left or if he should just stop through the McDonald's drive thru or something on his way home.

"Eddie."

But then, he didn't really need to stop for anything. There were leftovers from Thanksgiving dinner at home. He could smoke a little bit, make some kind of meatloaf sandwich, and then sink into his bed.

"Eddie."

And sleep until...

Fuck.

He was gonna have to do it all again tomorrow. And the day after that.

He thought back to his favorite fantasy heroes and wondered how they did it. How they put themselves through endless journeys, practically sacrificed themselves time and again.

And he could barely make it through a shift at the Starcourt Mall of all places.

"Eddie!"

He crashed right into your hands as you planted them on his shoulders and prevented him from absolutely barreling into you.

"Jesus are you ok?" you exclaimed and pulled him off to the side of the walkway to get out of the way of foot traffic.

Was he? Probably not.

"Yeah," he shook his head and answered. He finally looked at you, finally actually saw you. Dressed in your Teen Vogue best, as you called it, although a little worse for wear, if the eyeshadow smeared where it definitely shouldn't be and your jewelry all askew was any indicator. "Yeah I'm fine.

"You sure? You looked like you were in a trance," you explained. "I've been calling your name for a little while."

"Oh shit," he sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Yeah, no...it's...It was just a long day."

You didn't hesitate. Your arms immediately wrapped around him and you pulled him in. Pulled him back from whatever precipice he was about to launch himself off of, and straight into the comfort of you.

---

Before long, Eddie found himself in your apartment, fully upside down with his legs propped against the wall as he enjoyed the Blizzard he'd picked up on the way.

"You know just cuz you can hold it upside down, doesn't mean you're supposed to eat it upside down," you laughed as you filled a pot with water and put it on the stove.

"And what are you, the Blizzard expert," Eddie scoffed. "If you'll recall I was the one who took you to Dairy Queen for the first time."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." You rolled your eyes and turned to grab some cans from the cupboard.

You had offered to make dinner--again--while he vented about his shift. Nothing as spectacular as what you made for Thanksgiving dinner, but it left the leftover meatloaf for Wayne to take for his lunches.

"You're lucky I like your spaghetti sauce," Eddie grumbled, a little sad that he couldn't have his meatloaf sandwich.

So he talked as you ran to your bedroom to rid yourself of the remnants of who you became when you were at Starcourt, and as you emerged the person that, he liked to believe, was reserved especially for him.

He told you about the back to back returns he had dealt with when he came back from lunch as you dropped dried pasta into the boiling water and grated garlic into sizzling oil.

He complained about the man who demanded help from a manager only even though all he wanted was a special edition cassette deck that had all the bells and whistles and anyone with keys could help him. His voice got louder and meaner as he quoted the jackass verbatim, but the sharp strike of your wooden spoon against the side of the pot brought him back down to earth.

And as he finished up his story about having to count Sam's register three times because he forgot that there were large bills under the cash tray, you joined him on the couch with a bowl of steaming hot pasta for each of you.

He righted himself and discarded the empty blizzard cup on your coffee table.

"First Black Friday in the books," you announced and you passed the bowl to him. "I'm proud of you."

"Proud?" Eddie groaned. "Seriously? It was a disaster."

"They always are," you explained sagely.

"You survived," he pointed out.

"So did you."

"Barely."

"So?" you asked and twirled noodles on your fork expertly. "Doesn't that count? This is, like...my 5th Black Friday? My 6th? I count each one as a victory. And so should you."

You leaned over to kiss his cheek, then clinked plates with his in a salute, and then the two of you fell into contented silence as you ate.

As Eddie worked ravenously through the layers of starchy, cheesy, garlicky goodness, he realized that the weariness that had settled within him after his shift had started to alleviate. How he felt more like himself now that he was sitting next to you, basking in the warm glow of your company.

He briefly considered this ritual the two of you had been engaging in for months. The way you shared stories and foods and got closer to one another. He had always been a little worried that things would change if he ever got his wish, if this friendship with you ever became more.

But it was like nothing had changed at all.

He wanted to ask, was tempted to ask, what this was? If this was a date, like all the dates that weren't dates hadn't been before? If you were his girlfriend now?

But then...he recalled the time that you had a bad day and you immediately found relief in him, how he thought that he didn't need to be your knight as long as he could be your home.

And Eddie realized that whatever the two of you decided it would be, whether you were still just his friend, or if you were his girlfriend, or maybe...maybe something else...

You, too, would always be his home at the end of a long battle.

---

Next Part: Disaster Preparedness

Tag List for Store Manager Verse is still temporarily suspended. Thank you for understanding.

[choco-froggie]

What I would feed HL characters and why

Because cooking food is the best love language

Sebastian Sallow - Beef bourguignon (French beef stew) with scalloped potatoes

(because that boy probably eats like a hobbit and I’m all for it.) (And an Onion soup for starters and a warm caramel apple pie with vanilla ice for dessert. He’s my favourite he gets the full course.)

Ominis Gaunt - Fraisier (French strawberry cake)

(because don’t tell me that boy doesn’t love sweets and especially fancy desserts. He’d try to hide his love for cute desserts tho.)

Garreth Weasley - Fancy Grilled cheese with cheddar and onion jam

(he is the kind of guy to always enthusiastically compliment the food but never remember what it was. Just that it was good.)

Leander Prewett - Bento cake with words of affirmation

(because he needs some reassurance. Like « you’re doing great », or « good boy » to fit in the small space ?)

Amit Thakkar - Dakgalbi (Spicy stir-fried chicken)

(I’m sure that poor boy suffers from being forced to eat British food everyday but I don’t want to insult his palate with my poor knowledge of Indian cooking. So Korean spicy chicken it will be, I bet he’d be eager to discover a new cuisine.)

Poppy Sweetings - Onion tart and a muffin

(all vegan because that girl would be vegan, and she needs food easy to eat while out while she cares for beasts.)

Natsai Onai - Cinnamon rolls with a hot chocolate topped with whipped cream

(because I’m sure her mother doesn’t let her eat too much sugar but she loves it.)

Imelda Reyes - Cacio e Pepe pasta

(because she needs her carbs as a quidditch player and she must like simple things. And she’d tell me I did it wrong, like Italians when you cook Italian food. Same attitude.)

Anne Sallow - Juk (Korean rice porridge) and brownies

(rice porridges in many Asian cultures are popular when sick, to give strength. And a yummy comforting dessert for that strong girl.)

Photo credit : Ali on Pinterest

[claypigeonpottery]

I'm trying to be consistent with prices, so I've made a price list

prices are generally related to complexity of design and piece shape/size, but I also tend to price things higher if they were a pain in the ass. if there’s a flaw I’ll lower the price depending on how much the flaw affects the piece

measurements and mug capacities vary somewhat, but they'll be close to whatever's listed

the prices will be subject to change over time

all prices are in CAD

below are examples of pieces and prices

every piece shown here has been sold

MAGNETS, PINS, ORNAMENTS

small magnets/pins - can be other shapes, but simple design - $15

larger magnets/pins - can be other shapes. more complex designs - $20+

SCULPTURAL

Small little dudes - a couple inches in size, fairly basic decoration - $25+

Medium little dudes - palm-sized, a bit more detail - $50+

Kiln God-style Little Dude - glazed, less detail - $75+

Clay Guardian-style Little Dude - underglazed, detailed - $100+

COASTERS AND TRIVETS

Coaster or Tile (circle, square or hexagon, with soft pads or hook on back) - 3.5" across - $25+/each

Trivet or Tile (either rounded square or scalloped circle, and with either with soft pads or a hook on the back) - between 5-6" - $45+

SMALL PLATES AND TRAYS

Small round plate (option of scalloped edge)- 6” across, $50-70

Small square dish - 6” across, $50-70

Small long oval dish - 9” x 4.75”, $50-70

Small wide oval tray - 8” x 6”, $50-70

Small rectangular tray - 8” x 6”, $50-70

MEDIUM PLATES AND TRAYS

Medium round plate - 7” across, $70-90

Medium square plate -6.5” across, $70-90

Medium octagon plate - 6.5”, $70-90

Medium long oval tray - 11” x 5.5”, $70-90

Medium oval plate -9.25” x 7.5”, $70-90

Medium-large round plate -8.25” across, $80+

LARGE PLATES AND TRAYS

Large round plate -10.5” across, $90+

Large long oval tray - 14” x 7.5”, $90+

Large wide oval tray - 10” x 8.25”, $90+

Pie plate (deeper than plate/tray) -10” across, $100+

CUPS AND MUGS

10oz cup (no handle) - $65+

10oz mug (with 1-2 handles) - $75+

12oz cup - $75

12oz mug (with 1-2 handles) - $85+

15oz cup - $80+

15oz mug (with 1-2 handles) - $90+

LIDDED CONTAINERS

Mug-sized jar - in same sizes as mugs - $90+

Square jar/urn - four different sizes available, final size TBA once fired, but as greenware, without lid: 5.25", 6.5", 7.75" and 9". $100+

[drpeppertummy]

tiny little prompt drabble

[post-stuffing stuffing, hand-feeding, tummyache]

"I can't eat any more," groaned Sunny, leaning back in his seat. Marianne looked down at him. His tummy pushed out against the table, a sliver of hairy skin peeking out between the bottom of his shirt and the too-snug waist of his pants.

"Mm, you do look pretty full, sweetpea," said Marianne. She'd given him an enormous serving on purpose; there was no way he would've been able to finish it. The plate was nearly as big as he was, and it had been filled to the brim with hot, saucy pasta, beautiful seared scallops, and buttery garlic bread. Now, there was only a small portion left. Truthfully, she hadn't expected him to get as far as he did, but there was certainly no wondering where he put it all; his belly looked very uncomfortably full.

"Do you want the rest?" He looked up at her with his big sorrowful eyes. Marianne had already cleaned her plate. She'd eaten almost as much as he had, but then, she was about twice his size. She considered his offer for a moment.

"Oh, I don't know, cutie pie, I'm pretty full myself," she lied. "You sure you can't finish?" As if to answer for him, his belly let out an uneasy gurgle, and he hiccuped. Still, he said nothing, thinking it over.

"Here, sweetheart, why don't you let me help you out?" She reached out and slowly, gracefully twirled up a forkful of pasta. He watched, almost mesmerized by the motion, and she gently brought the fork to his mouth. He hesitated for a moment, then, obediently, he opened up.

Sunny was far too full for that bite of pasta, and the one that followed, and the one after that. Still, for Marianne, he ate, ignoring the ache in his overstretched stomach, and his tummy rumbled unhappily as it strained to hold the enormous meal. He let her feed him until the pressure inside him was so great that he didn't think he could swallow another bite. He almost said so, too, until he realized that the plate was now empty; the next bite would be the last. If he could finish that final forkful, he'd have eaten the whole thing for her. The thought delighted him; he knew it would make her happy. Proud, even. For that, despite his sore, taut belly, he could push through.

Marianne brought the final bite to his mouth and he took it, but when it came time to swallow, he stopped. His belly was unbelievably full. Marianne saw the hesitation, and, setting the fork down, she placed a hand on his tummy. It was tight and hard, pushing out uncomfortably from his skinny frame. Gently, she began to rub soft circles over his distended stomach, and, almost unconsciously, he arched his back slightly, nudging his belly against her hand. It let out a queasy rumble. Finally, with a deep breath, Sunny forced himself to swallow, and Marianne could feel his stomach groan under her hand as it struggled to make room.

"Oh my goodness, Sunny honey, I can't believe you finished all that," she beamed, cupping his face with both hands. He looked up at her adoringly, leaning his cheek into her palm, and hiccuped.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

2023 Christmas Special

Just General Headcannons about spending Christmas with Blade

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁

🎄 Right off the bat, let's get this out of the way. Blade won't exactly be filled with holiday spirit. This man has been through some shit and no amount of spiced cider or jolly carolers will make him feel comfortable enough to be carefree. However, that's nothing that your love can't sooth. So grab your Blade and give him some extra tender love and affection this holiday season.

🎄 I don't think that Blade would really see the appeal of Christmas as a whole. In his eyes, the holiday is simply about giving gifts, eating specific foods, decorating your house and wearing ugly clothes. Of course, family is also a major part of Christmas but he doesn't think about that on a once over. But, Blade is a reasonable man, so he's open to letting you explain all the non superficial parts of the holiday.

🎄 Let's start with the tree. Personally, I don't think that Blade has much of an opinion of what kind tree to use. While a fake one would definitely be more convenient, he'd like the to have the full holiday experience for his first Christmas with you; so he'd get a real tree the first year. I don't think he'd cut it down himself, maybe get someone at the tree lot to do it since he's never done it himself before. Blade will make you help him set it up in the house though; now matter if you've got noodle arms or not.

🎄 Okay, I think that the best course of action for decorating your Christmas tree with Blade would be to make homemade ornaments with him. It's hitting three birds with one stone; you get to spend time with him, you can show him a Christmas activity you can do together and you get reusable ornaments. I think his favorite ornaments to make would be any of the one's that you can put little photos on or into. The first ornament that Blade made had a picture of him and you decked out in winter gear and standing in front of your newly bought Christmas tree. As for lights, I think that he would prefer the traditional green and red lights over solid colors and rainbow colors.

🎄 Decorating the house is a bit of a hassle when it's with Blade, the poor guy gets cramps in his sides from raising his arms for so long. Make sure to get a step stool next year, okay? For him? Anyway, I doubt that he'd be willing to decorate anywhere but the living room, so your out of luck when it comes to the yard or the outside of your house. Maybe Blade would get a new welcome mat or hang a wreath but that's it. When it comes to the decorations in question they'd probably just be silver and gold tinsel maybe a few paper snowflakes, but nothing much.

🎄 Christmas sweaters? Christmas sweaters. But the question is; can you convince Blade to wear one? Weeeell, maybe. It really depends on his mood to be honest, though if you catch him in a good one you can get him into a sweater. I think that he'd like one with a simple design instead of something really loud and complex; like a grey sweater with a simple snowflake embroidered into it. The ugly ones though? Absolutely not. Blade may be incredibly touch starved and very depressed, but he still has taste. He will wear Christmas socks though, he really likes those; warm, soft and comfortable.

🎄 Let's talk Christmas dinner! I don't know if it's just me but I feel like Blade can put away quite a bit when he's feeling up for it, so try and make a nice variety for him. I feel like he'd be the type to not let different foods touch and that he'd eat the entirety of one thing first before moving on to another. I don't know, he just gives off that vibe. As for his favorite Christmas dishes? I feel like Blade would really like roastbeef with slow cooked scalloped potatoes. For a side, I think that loaded bacon mac and cheese 1would suit him well and for dessert, a slice of pecan pie and a nice serving of struffoli.

🎄 After dinner, you should show Blade the joy of making cookies and gingerbread houses. I actually think that he would do a pretty good job of baking, and by that I mean kneading the dough. You'll let him help decorate the cookies once they're cooled though, right? And he will decorate them; he'll even frost a little gingerbread person to look like you. Though they may not be perfect, they do smell devine, so don't mind him sneaking a few out of the corner of you eye. Don't call him out either, you have no evidence and he'll never admit it. Blade is actually surprisingly mediocre at building and decorating his gingerbread house; he's too worried about how sticky his fingers are getting and how much icing is in his hair to pay attention to the fact that his gingerbread sheets are crooked and piping is kinda wonky.

🎄 Moving on, let's talk about movies and songs! I firmly believe that a favorite of Blade's movie wise is Home Alone surprisingly enough. I don't know, I just think that he has hidden gremlin energy that only expresses itself when he watches light hearted but violent shit. Also, I think that he'd like that the mc is so clever to think of and set up all the traps and such. As for favorite Christmas songs.... I actually don't think Blade cares for any of them in particular.

🎄 Let's talk gifts! If I'm being completely honest, I doubt that Blade would buy you anything. But! He he would still gift you something. His gift would either be something handmade or something that he found on a mission that reminded him of you. No ifs, ands, buts or in betweens. I believe that Blade would also like something personal and handmade, it would make the gift feel that much more sincere to him. Something like a scarf, gloves or socks would be perfect. You could carve or paint him something. Hell, even a woven bracelet would warm his heart. As long as it was made by you he'd be happy.

🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁•♡•🎁

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[copperbadge]

For my birthday my folks gave me a new large tart pan, the kind with a removable base, and while I don't make tart/pie dishes very often it did look like it'd be a great pan for making Sicilian/Detroit-style pizza. First attempt was a qualified success -- usually I bake the pizzas for 15 minutes, and this went in with a "normal" pizza in a cast iron pan, but it needed about 7-10 extra minutes to get fully cooked in the center, which browned the top more than I liked.

Tasted great when it came out, though! And if I bake this one on the bottom rack, I can solve the browning-cheese problem, so future experiments forthcoming.

[ID: A large rectangular pan with scalloped edges, sitting on a baking sheet; taking up most of the pan, except for a slice removed at one end, is a deep golden-brown square pizza, dolloped with pesto here and there.]