this is me (not) trying.

Character name: Rose Raleigh 

 Age: 30 

 Gender identification: Cis female 

 Preferred pronouns: She/Her 

 Residential area: Gastown 

 Occupation: Line Cook at Le Crocodile

Time in Vancouver: 1 year

TL;DR: originally from brooklyn, recently divorced, line cook at one of VC’s most expensive french restaurants, in her trainwreck and rock bottom era, enjoying the freedom of no longer giving a fuck 

Rose didn’t have to ask him twice – seemed to be a recurring theme, if he were to let himself think about that sort of thing – and with arms outstretched he does a deliberate spin so she can admire him and his half-assed attempt at a costume fully. 

“If you got anymore compliments for me, by all means, keep hurling them my way.” 

Facing her again, he looks her over with renewed interest now he knows what she’s going for, and the execution was flawlessly done. 

“Course I know who Julia Childs is.” To see at least, he couldn’t tell anyone much more about her other than she had been a chef, but still. “Even zombified you’re still too hot for it to be a surprise that I didn’t instantly clock what you’re going for. Nicely done though, might be the best costume I’ve seen so far.”

__

“Oh, I’ve got compliments, but you’re gonna have to give me a little Magic Mike routine action if you wanna hear more,” she tells him, giving him a playful smack on the ass when she’s provided with the opportunity during his spin and then looking at him with an attempt to bite back her grin when he’s facing her direction once more.

When he confirms he knows who Julia Child is, she puts a hand over her heart in relief.

“Thank god, it would have been such a shame to never have sex with you again,” she informs him, as if that would have been some kind of dealbreaker for her.

(Though, when it came to Dean, she may have been willing to overlook it. She’d certainly overlooked bigger things when it had come to him in the past.)

“Really? The best?” she grins proudly, “Man, you should have seen me at the beginning of the night. I had a gross face pie and everything. But I ate it so I wouldn’t be drinking on an empty stomach. Like, if you think this is bad, I would be objectifying you in way less family friendly ways if I hadn’t eaten something.”

—

Sawyer fell silent in the face of Rose’s explanation. Brown eyes blinked slowly–once, twice–and the gears of her mind could practically be heard in their turning. She might’ve even been tearing up, if the lump in her throat was anything to go by, though this is swallowed down a few moments later when Sawyer finds the ability to speak. “Rose…that might just be the nicest fucking thing anyone has ever said to me.” Her? Compared in any way to Florence Pugh and her academy award nominated pouty mouth? What more could she possibly strive to achieve? “Forget Meredith Blake. That is definitely at the top of the list for next year. Honestly, it is the list. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this.”

__

At the clear emotion of Sawyer’s face, Rose reaches over and pats the young woman on the hand in understanding. Even she, for all of her rough edges and quirks, was not immune to the charms and endearing talent of Miss Flo. “I know, I know,” she nods -- definitely agreeing that it was one of the highest compliments you could pay to another human being. “I think the costume would be fairly cheap to make? You just need to craft up a basic hoop skirt thingy and glue a thousand little fake flowers to it. Or you could go as a different Florence Pugh character to every party you go to next year. The Black Widow chick, the repressed Harry Styles housewife. You really have your pick.”

.

“That sounds like it would kill me instantly,” Jasper says about the sandwiches, “would love to try one someday.” He reaches down when Rose sets the planchette back on the board and wipes away some Dorito dust, as a reflex more than because he gives a shit if it’s on there. “I’ve read that the way it moves has something to do with some kind of, like…subconscious placebo effect. Where, like, we’re waiting for it to happen, so it just kinda happens? But they did all kinds of experiments and when they blindfolded people they always spelled incoherent stuff. So.” He shrugs, as if to say anything could happen, but deep down he doesn’t really believe it. “Let’s just do it, though,” he says. “Fingies on the thing.”

“Well if Annabelle the doll doesn’t jump out of this thing and try to strangle us or something then we can split one after. I always keep all the stuff on hand.” Peanut butter, bananas, bacon -- the staples of any totally mentally stable home. “I saw this movie a couple years back where people looked in that hole on the arrow thingy and they because posessed by a demon, so I definitely suggest that we do not do that,” she says, making a squeamish face that only further contorts at the word ‘fingies’. “Oh god, please never say that again. That word gives me the ick so bad. It’s right up there with ‘panties’ and ‘squishy’.” Nevertheless, she lays her fingers on the planchette and takes a deep breath. “What now?”

-

“I need you to say sike right now so my ego doesn’t grow as big as this wig.”

Jumping into a t-formation, Sosh spreads her crimson wings wide with enthusiasm. “I did do the most unfuckable! It’s his Vegas run. And you didn’t follow, either, because I’ve never been so down to marry a zombie in my life.”

“You’re literally more fuckable than Austin Butler right now, I mean that. God, the audacity of you.”

Rose cackles with delight as Sosh starfishes in all her sequined glory, approaching her and laying her hands on her shoulders. 

“Listen, we don’t know what’s going on up there in the great beyond. There’s no reason that Evlis and Julia Child wouldn’t be doing the dirty in the afterlife. Maybe we’re onto something.”

—

“Stop, because I already know what you’re going to say.” Sawyer shook her head, as if upset she hadn’t thought about it sooner. “Meredith Blake from The Parent Trap. A literal icon.” When she’d seen the costume on another Horror Night attendee, complete with who she was assuming were the woman’s twin children, both dressed as Lindsey Lohan, respectively, Sawyer immediately added it to her short list of costume ideas for the next year. Harlow’d have to pick a twin…or maybe costume change all night to be both… “What else you got?” It was never too early to start brainstorming. 

Roses pauses and tilts her head in consideration. “Actually, that’s a fucking fantastic idea. Though, I have to admit, in my mind at this very moment I am considering stealing it, but I’m sure that impulse will be gone in a week and by December I will have forgotten about it completely.” She attempts to regroup her train of thought. “No, actually, I was thinking you be Florence Pugh in the last ten minutes of Midsommar. Because you got that pouty mouth thing going on. We just cover you in fake flowers and bam, you’re good to go. Alternatively,  you, me and Sosh all get ahold of some of those culty-looking Swedish dresses and just run around in the streets wailing.”

“Think I’d have needed a skirt for that,” Dean notes, looking down at where he had opted for a pair of jeans instead, his costume less cowgirl and more cowboy. It’s exactly the kind of comment he expected from Rose by then, having learned fast that she had quite the mouth on her, which invited a whole other line of thinking that he knew he needed to banish. “And I haven’t got the gams for it.” 

He takes a step back to check out her costume more pointedly, it seemed familiar and it escaped him all at once, though the zombie aspect was hard to miss. 

“You’re going to have to explain what this is to me.” 

“Yeah, you’re right, you’ve tooooooootally been skipping leg day,” Rose nods, angling her head so that she can blatantly leer at Dean’s form. She appreciated the way he looked in clothes just was much as she enjoyed how he looked out of him -- which was definitely saying something. 

“You do got the ass for them jeans though, give us a spin,” she teases, nudging his shoulder to prod him.

When he steps back and asks for explanation she lets out an exasperated sigh and puts her hands on her hips. 

“I’m zombie Julia Child. Please tell me I am not going to have to explain who Julia Child is.”

location: horror nights

“Okay, I know that we’re far in advance, but if you’re taking suggestions for your costume next year I already have several ideas for you.”

location: gastown halloween hootenanny

“I thought we were going with costumes where we didn’t look fuckable,” Rose gasps, indignant as she catches sight of Soshanna. 

“This isn’t fair, you’re the most fuckable Elvis that I’ve ever seen!”

location: fall harvest festival

“Wait, wait, don't tell me -- you dressed as your favorite position?”

where: horror night (25th)

“I’m starting to think that Taylor Swift was actually right,” Rose thinks out loud as Gabriela approaches her in adorable costume -- a far contrast from Rose’s blood-flecked dress.

“I am starting to get the feeling that everybody is a sexy baby and I’m the monster on the hill.”

.

“There’s absolutely no such things as a Canadian mafia,” says Jas, “but I also suspect Mitsi is involved in something deeply criminal based on this one time she roped me into meeting her cat and I saw what I am almost a hundred percent sure were several full jars of nail clippings on this high shelf in her living room. So if anyone knows anything, it’s probably her. Too bad we don’t have any gross aftershave to stink up the place, I bet that would lure old Barney’s ghost here.” He pauses a second, then asks, “Do you actually think this stuff works? Like not the Ouija board necessarily, but like…you know. Like trying to talk to dead people or whatever?”

“Canada probably has a mafia -- but it’s so polite and reasonable and they have such good healthcare and no one ever hears about it,” Rose argues, fiddling with the plachette with Dorito cheese dusted fingers. Her lips curl at his description of Mitsi’s apartment, muttering ‘Criminal Minds shit’ under her breath before his next question pauses her to pause. It takes her some consideration -- she didn’t really know how much she actually believed in this kind of thing. She wanted to, though -- she sometimes held a kind of envy for people with steadfast beliefs. “I hope not,” she jokes, sniffing for a second as she places the planchette back to it’s rightful position. “Otherwise my dad is gonna spring up outta this thing and have by ass for continuing to play with God and my cholesterol by making deep fried peanut butter banana bacon sandwiches.”

"What are the conditions on giving up the thing? Buddy, I don't care if death is on the line -- I'm not giving up the shit that makes life worth living."