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Starter - Blog Posts
who : eddie munson + open !
where : the shore of lovers lake
Sometimes when he comes home he just likes to do .... this. Sit on a bench near a busy place- near, not, like, in the middle of it, ‘cause in Hawkins he’s still Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson - and people watch. Thinking about how he has miraculously made it out of this shithole, alive. Not made it all too far but he’s managed to get out of Hawkins, Indiana at all, and that amounts to something. To him it does.
So he sits there, closes his eyes for a moment and inhales deeply and - oh, yep, that’s definitely cow shit, isn’t it - just listens to the sounds that surround him. Families having picnics, teenagers sneaking away, people bathing in the sun, birds singing, twigs cracking - hold on. Eddie jolts upright. Oh, fuck this, he’s getting outta here, he’s not in the mood to get roughed up by some high school freshmen who still think he’s put some satanic DnD spell on those students that died two years ago.
Eddie grabs his Van Halen lunchbox, jumps up, ready to make his escape as he bumps into someone - he grabs onto the backrest of the bench for balance, watches the contents of his metal box spill out onto the floor. Well, at least there’s no drugs this time. “Shit”, he curses under his breath, crouches down to collect all the little figurines he’s fucking hand-crafted for the next Hellfire campaing, “Shit, jesus, fuck.” Why did he have to make them this small? “Shit ,ah, sorry. Sorry, my bad. You - you good?”
time: early afternoon. location: a sidewalk, along the main enclave. status: for @detr1tus, @thievesandwitches, @daydreambeliiever + 4 open spots.
blonde sits on the sidewalk, beer can in hand and forearms resting on each knee. exasperated sigh after exasperated sigh, faye's hazel eyes take in her uneventful surroundings and their grip tightens on the half-empty can burrowed from trip trap's stash. boredom is dangerous ammo for someone as restless as faye ━━ every stone on the sidewalk, every brick on every building, every drink left unpoured serve as a reminder that there is nothing to do around a place like fabletown ( not unless she wants to spend more nights in jail and, although the sheriff's company isn't as bad, the sleeping arrangements leave much to be desired ) and nothing truly every happens either.
if you ignore the murder and the constant thread of exposure, faye supposes.
another sigh, another sip of an already warm beer, nursed through what feels like an hour of merely existing. even the prospect of newfound company feels like a curse to faye, muscles aching for something more than walking around and mind begging for something to entertain an already numb brain. the would-be-fairy doesn't even look up from the empty spot their unfocused eyes seem glued to as the footsteps gather close and closer to her. "i'm not a sharer so if it's beer you're looking for, you can keep on walkin'."
time: almost four o'clock. location: the trip trap, the crooked mile. status: for @thievesandwitches, @faeritells + 1 open spot(s).
huffing and puffing, tink cleans the bartop over and over and over again. there are a couple of patrons scattered on the floor of trip trap and the blonde swings a cloth over her shoulder before she calls out to them. "last call!" faye could count with their fingers the amount of minutes she wants to stay at the goddamn gala, later on. it is a waste of time, a signing of something that does not guarantee mundanes won't find them ━━ and when they do, faye is going to be the first to call it a day and disappear into someplace no one will think to look. they are a lot of things but they're not the sacrificial lamb.
the would be fairy turns her back to the door and starts organising everything behind the counter top and it's then that they hear the door open and close. "for fuck's sake," faye swears under her breath, eyes rolling as they turn to face the reason for her mood shift. "it's almost closing time." hands on her hips, faye shifts her weight onto her left leg. "you better not be here to slowly nurse a glass of shitty whiskey."
[Open Starter]
This was stupid…another night, another nightmare, and another heluva hard time trying to figure out where in heaven’s name these were coming from.
Sure, he’d dreamed about the trip to the desert…that was a recurring nightmare since he was eleven. Some how his parents didn’t remember and made him feel like he was mad to even come up with something like that. But that wasn’t like these. Just like that one felt real, so did these ones; however, unlike that nightmare, which he knew he had been apart of, none of the others felt that way. They all just felt like something that he shouldn’t know about, but did. Something he should’ve been able to prevent but couldn’t.
So, here he was, sitting on a park bench at 11 o’clock at night with nothing over his clothes but a light coat…
WHO: Leyla & @docolives WHERE: Harmony Ranch
At one of the treatment centers, Leyla had gone through some equine therapy, and she found so much progress and help in it. When she learned that Merrock had a similar sort of program largely geared toward kids, it was all she could do not to run all the way from the coast to the countryside to see if there were any opportunities for her to do something.
"Excuse me," she asked the blonde she spotted, knowing she'd seen her around before, "do you have any spots for a volunteer? Like an application or something I could fill out?"
WHO: Leyla & Open. (4/4) WHERE: Mawk Tales
It wasn't that Leyla didn't like alcohol. In truth, she didn't mind it at all. That wasn't the point of this place. The point was the inclusivity, the point was that everyone was welcome, the point was that it was a safe place for all friends. It was why out of any business, this is the one she pursued to completion. It was the one she had needed once upon a time.
"What can I get you? My personal favorite is the Strawberry Basil Mocktail or the Ginger Turmeric smoothie we have. Or do you need a minute?"
Bread - White Bread - Ciabatta This delicious ciabatta recipe bakes 2 marvelous loaves of rustic Italian bread. Get ahead by making the starter the day before you need the bread.