#i based tristans love of ices on the fact that the last time i was extremely sick the only food i could stomach was popsicles

[orphanheirs]

Happy STS! :D What are your OCs' favourite foods, and how often do they eat them?

Hey thanks for sending this the other day!!

Tristan has a sensitive stomach, and as he often doesn't feel well he doesn't have much of an appetite. Because of this, his absolute favorite foods are things that are light and sweet. He loves ices (Italian ice), candied flowers, candied peel, and candied nuts. He also loves fresh fruit. The cooling factor of ices contributes to his fondness for them, as he's often feverish and/or dealing with a sore throat. He's not able to access these foods very often once he leaves home, as ices were not widely available everywhere in the time period (no refrigeration), and fresh fruits weren't available year round (unlike today). So he's a bit put out once he loses access to a country estate with a full staff, ice house and hot house. He might find some small consolation in preserved fruits/jams. He might like things like this.

Crispin isn't very discriminating when it comes to food, except that he can't eat sanctified/blessed foods due to his demonic nature. In his own realm he doesn't need to eat food at all, but since he lives in the mortal world his human side takes precedence and he needs to eat. Food that is ill-got (ungratefully received, stolen, dishonestly prepared) is most nutritious for him, but thankfully he doesn't have to depend on that being the case. It probably tastes the best to him as well. But besides that, he covets sweet foods most of all, particularly baked goods (pies, pasties, tarts), puddings, and treats long associated with Halloween like apples and nuts. He eats these things quite often, and in fact most of his diet consists of sweet foods.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

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PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

**

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏😇🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

**

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

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[vergilboyfriend]

You should do all of them questions and 90 is true

I love you!!!!

1. Favorite instrument?

I work at a music store u can’t just ask me this. When my coworkers play it’s the saxophone or the flute, when the boys in the repair shop are testing repairs and they harmonize with each other or try to outplay one another it’s the bassoon or the trombone or whatever they’re fixing at the moment. When I hear 🎺 give his lesson on Wednesday afternoons it’s the trumpet, and when I think about middle school it’s the clarinet, the flute, the French horn. When I hear the nutcracker pas des deux is the oboe and when I hear edith piaf l’accordeoniste it’s the remarkable human voice. Really my favorite instrument is all of them, it just depends.

2. Favorite fic trope? Mutual pining 🥺

3. Sport you played for the longest amount of time? LMAO I wasn’t a sporty kid but I did ballet

4. Shoe size? 10-11

5. Most recent (good) dream? Uhh I had a dream last night about my coworker 🎹 it wasn’t bad though I can’t really remember what it was about

6. Last person in your DMs? smugg

7. Can you do a handstand? Nooo nooo lmaoo nooooo

8. Unpopular food opinion I don’t like oranges or red meat

9. Conspiracy you believe in? There’s some kind of weird weather dome in my hometown around the military base that makes most storms pass around us

10. Is your hair its natural color/style? Most of it is I dyed the bottom layer of my hair tho so it’s blonde rn

11. state a useless fact all that’s coming to mind is outright lies rn hold on. The inventor of pringles is buried in a pringles can that’s so fucking nasty omg

12. most interesting gossip you’ve heard? Idk I don’t really care for gossip uhhhh have u heard tho rin dippindogs is a huge gay hah she uhh she like men AND women lmao gaaay gaaaay

13. Middle name? Carolyn

14. Sexuality? Bisexual

15. Amount of sleep you got last night? Idk actually I think like 9-10 hrs tho I slept in until 11

16. Opinion on ice cream cake? Tasty!!!

17. Opinion on (cup)cake frosting? It’s depends buttercream is usually too sweet for me in large amounts so I prefer whipped cream frosting

18. Last board game you played? Idk??? We played hunt a killer tho last Thursday me n my family I guess that counts kinda

19. Project you want to start? I need ideas first baby

20. Project you’re working on right now? HAHAHAHAHAHA

21. TV show you’re watching? nothing rn I just rewatch bojack a lot if I watch anything

22. Last movie you watched? Lego batman I think

23. Ever left anon hate? Not legit hate

24. Ever left anon love? Yes all the time. Sometimes to strangers it’s my favorite thing to do

25. Best Disney movie? The princess and the frog

26. Best Pixar movie? Soul or Up I can’t decide

27. Best Star Wars? Um. Empire strikes back

28. Last thing you consumed? Fuit gumy

29. NoTP? Idk I don’t really hate ships unless they’re gross like pedophilic gross

30. story behind your (nick)name? When I was a fetus my great grandfather had a dream that my name should be Carolyn Marie but my parents were huge dweebs so they named me Marina after the actress of Deanna Troi in Star Trek. Idk about my nickname ive just always been Rina/Rin as long as I can remember

31. ice cream order? Lately it’s lemon sorbetto I know it’s SO high in sugar but I love it

32. describe your blog in <5 words I love you

33. how many blogs do you follow? 436

34. Describe your voice it depends usually I sound like a sick child but my customer service voice is really pleasant

35. Describe your smile it’s cute :)

36. What is the place you live known for? LMAOOO LMAO we have a military base nearby and like. I could go on abt that one but also like. There’s a lot of gang violence and a lot of the other consequences of poverty. People from the cities around us see us as “””ghetto””” or violent but it’s just. It’s more than that it’s always more than that. And idk what else there’s nothing really particularly special about this town except that we’re all here and not anywhere else

37. What is the place you’re originally from known for? (if they’re different)

38. pronouns? she/any idc

39. Languages you speak? English

40. first friend you made through tumblr? Idk. I probably don’t talk to them anymore :(

41. Person on tumblr you know in real life? my brother

42. First dog breed you think of shih tzu I have 2 next to me rn

43. room wall color? Purble!!!! The paint color is called grape juice that’s why I picked it!!!

44. Song that’s stuck in your head right now? It’s tricky to rock a rhyme to rock a rhyme that’s right on time it’s trickyyyyy

45. Favorite number? 5, 34

46. Color you associate with your name? Red

47. Favorite jolly rancher flavor?watermelon

48. Pets? 2 dogs rocket and groot and 4 cats loki danni who r from the same litter and we raised from kittens, miss kitty who we adopted from a shelter after my boy blue moon passed away and ben (his real name is Kylo Ren thanks to my mom but I refuse to call him that) he is my little baby and he has 7 toes on his front paws

49. Collections? Hot wheels

50. Character outside of your fandom you’d marry? Girl what lmaooo idk

51. Character outside of your fandom you’d kill? That’s mean :(

52. Have you met any celebrities? NO thank god id have to kill on sight

53. Favorite time period in history? Itslian Renaissance & Romantic Era

54. What time is it right now? 2:35 am oops

55. History or future? Future but like . A good one. Or prehistory

56. Space or ocean? Space

57. Fears? Abandonment

58. Command + v and post. It’s this list of questions u don’t want that

59. Favorite season? Spring

60. Describe your aesthetic. Messy just a mess, neon and old buildings and things, antiques, countryside if there weren’t so many trump pence flags still lmaoo give uppp give up, nature just al of nature and space and places humans can’t touch and places they used to touch but can’t anymore

61. MBTI? Infp but I haven’t taken it in a few years

62. What’s your relationship with your family like? Normal.

63. “Biggest fan” in your tumblr activity? I’m in mobile hold on acc to tumblr it’s akky

64. Favorite musical? Sweeney todd

65. Comfort book? Idk how to read 💔💔💔 wuthering heights tho

66. Comfort movie? Whisper of the heart

67. OTP? Girl idk

68. BroTP? Joey and Tristan yugioh

69. AUs or canon compliant? Canon ig idk

70. Opinion on the person who’s sending the ask? It’s an anon!! But I love them

71. FMK + 3 characters anon didnt leave any characters and I was going to say something very bad but I won’t

72. Dream date? I’ve wanted to do this for a while but ideally it would be after we’d been together a while maybe even engaged or whatever, I wanna go to like a Home Depot or a furniture store and pretend to be married and looking for house paints and furniture and plan what our home is going to look like I wanna do that so bad. But idk for a first/early relationship date i really want to go to the zilker botanical garden it’s one of my favorite places, we could also go to the natural gardener which is a plant nursery in Austin I really love it there too and it’s not that far from zilker.

73. Relationship status? Single

74. Ever dyed your hair? Do you plan to? Yes and perhaps. Maybe

75. Dream job/career? Idk anymore I used to have big girl goals and I haven’t had any in a while. But when I was younger I wanted to be a game warden

76. Favorite band/singer? Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

77. Something that makes you soft/that you find adorable? My cats

78. The first thing you would do if you won the lottery? Buy a house

79. Are you superstitious? Yes

80. Character you project onto? Shizuku tsukishima

81. Fictional character you’ve had a crush on? Vergil devil may cry. Forever husband

82. Celebrity crush? LMAO

83. Person on here you’d date? my mutuals

84. Person on here you’d marry? 🥺 my mutuals

85. Person on here you’d throw into the void? Smugg

86. Other social media you have? I’ve got a photography insta that I barely use and a Twitter that’s just nintendo switch screenies that’s it

87. Finish the sentence: Due to personal reasons, ___________i will be passing away

88. Bad habit? I find it rlly hard to say no or like to say when and why I’m upset I don’t feel like for the latter I don’t feel like I should bring something that’s upsetting me up because I know I’ll get over it on my own and I don’t really trust myself to be upset about rational things. Idk I’m working on it

89. Three things you like about yourself? I’m hot, I’m kind, I’m resilient

90. Ily and you deserve the world I love you!!!!! YOU deserve it too!!!

[bookworlders]

the wedding date - ch. 9

percabeth fake dating!au based on The Wedding Date movie

part 1 | FFnet | ao3

masterpost

The wine was flowing.

If the rehearsal dinner gave any indication of what the ceremony was going to be like the next day, it was sure to be lavish. Piper’s mother and father, supermodel Aphrodite Love and actor Tristan McLean, were paying for the ceremony. Zeus Grace, Jason’s father and host of the rehearsal dinner, had obviously not wished to be upstaged. Zeus had hired an upscale party company to completely transform the front lawn of the Big House into some kind of fairytale winery, much to Chiron’s protest.

Every post on the wrap-around porch was wrapped in twinkling lights. The porch itself had been transformed into an altar for the rehearsal ceremony. Picnic tables laden with white table clothes, succulents, and lanterns littered the front lawn for the dinner. The parents of the bride and groom greeted the wedding party as they arrived: Tristan and Zeus shaking everyone's hands and Beryl Grace and Aphrodite shooting each other reproachful scowls — they had worn the same dress.

Percy sat with Will and Calypso as their dates rehearsed walking down the aisle. Jason’s annoying cousin, Octavian, was officiating. Percy caught Annabeth’s eye from where she stood at Piper’s side on the porch. He made faces at her until he saw her smile crack. He grinned at how cute she looked, trying to stifle her laughter. Reyna, standing directly behind Jason, noticed and followed Annabeth’s line of sight, she shot daggers at him.

When he was sure Reyna wasn’t looking anymore, Percy winked at Annabeth and motioned to her neck. She blushed.

After dance lessons, Percy and Annabeth had fooled around in their cabin before getting ready for the rehearsal dinner. Annabeth had even more hickeys on her neck to conceal after that afternoon, especially with the low-cut neckline of her lavender rehearsal dinner dress. Percy didn’t exactly know where they stood with their agreement, but he knew he was having fun with Annabeth regardless of all the lines and boundaries they had crossed by being intimate..

“You are not allowed to look at me tomorrow!” Annabeth said, punching him in the shoulder after they finished rehearsing the ceremony. Percy pulled back her chair for her as they sat down at the head table with the wedding party.

“I agree,” Reyna replied, but Percy had a feeling she was not joking at all.

The food was amazing, but the wine was better. Percy was in bliss, chowing down and refilling Annabeth’s wine glass as the parents all made their rounds of speeches. Dessert was served just as Tristan McLean concluded a monologue from one of his 90s chick flick movies that he was dedicating to Piper. The dessert was vanilla cake with blueberries.

Percy’s eyes lit up and he attacked the cake with his fork, “Heck yes!”

Annabeth grinned at his enthusiasm as she adjusted the napkin on her lap, “What is it with you and blue food?” She ate a piece, it was really delicious.

“It’s a thing between me and my mom,” Percy spoke through mouthfuls. “I asked for a blue birthday cake when I was little, and my old stepdad was being an ass, ‘Blue food doesn’t exist!’” Percy stabbed a blueberry on his fork, dark juice staining the white china. “After that, my mom made an extra effort to make me blue food like pancakes or bringing home all the blue candy from when she worked at a sweet shop.”

Annabeth reached out and brushed icing away from the corner of his mouth, “Your mom sounds great.”

Percy looked at her, smiling, “She is.”

Annabeth broke away from Percy’s gaze. Her face started to feel hot. She stood, “I’m gonna go grab some water, do you want some?” Her feet were taking her to the beverage table before Percy could respond.

Annabeth filled a glass with ice and water and downed it. She refilled it once more, gulping it down. She had felt the words I’d like to meet her about to escape her lips right then. She had to be more careful or she was going to fall into this façade. This arrangement was just for this one weekend. She was never going to meet Sally Jackson.

“Annabeth! Hello, dear.”

She turned, “Aphrodite, hello.” Piper’s mom reached by her to fill her glass with ice. She managed to make the casual, rustic dinner outside of the Big House look like the backdrop of a photoshoot. Annabeth thought, she was too beautiful, too perfect.

“How was the food?” Aphrodite asked, gazing at her as she sipped her water. She had the same kaleidoscope eyes Piper had, but whereas Piper’s gaze was warm and comforting, Annabeth could barely look her mother in the eye.

“It was great. Nice speeches too.”

Aphrodite smiled, her lipstick unsmudged by her glass, “It’s nice to see you sitting over there with your date.”

Annabeth’s stomach dropped, she already hated where this conversation was going yet she just nodded and smiled.

“You’re such a pretty girl,” Aphrodite continued, “You’d never have thought with a face like that that you’d have such trouble in the love department. Well, then I saw how you are about work and your little job. I’m so happy that you finally found love! It feels so much better than drawing some buildings, doesn’t it?”

Annabeth’s jaw tensed, “Yes.” After years of friendship with Piper, she learned it was best not to argue with her mother.

“Your career may be what makes you happy, but love is what you needed.”

“Right, Aphrodite,” Annabeth muttered through gritted teeth, she gripped her glass and walked back over to the table.

She was fuming when she sat down.

“Whoa, whoa,” Percy asked, cautiously, seeing her tensed shoulders, “What did I do now?”

Annabeth crossed her arms. “Not you,” she spat, “Piper’s mother ugh. She had some commentary about my personal life again.” Annabeth hated, hated, hated conversations with Piper’s mother because they always ended like that. A successful career and love are not mutually exclusive.

However, in Annabeth’s case, it had been. Luke had left her because she chose her job.

Percy took her hand, “Hey, come on, forget her, let’s dance.”

The wine had loosened Annabeth enough to actually join Percy on the makeshift dance floor, and the mandatory shots for the bridal party got her to let Percy twirl her into the middle of the dance circle.

Michael Bublé’s “Sway” came on next, and Percy and Annabeth made for Will and Nico as they salsa-ed into the middle.

Annabeth’s left hand rested lightly on Percy's shoulder as they swayed on the outskirts of the dance floor. As the sun went down, fireflies began to twinkle on the lawn.

“Is this even real?” Annabeth muttered, her gaze following a lightning bug, “How did we get here?”

Percy chuckled, twirling her, “Not sure.”

“For real, how did you become an actor, Percy?”

Percy shrugged as Bublé transitioned to Sinantra, “I never wanted to be an actor when I was younger, I just wanted to swim. Competitive swimming led to scholarships. I was undeclared and Grover was my freshman roommate and he did tech for the theater department. I hung around him and other theater majors who ended up casting me in their studio shows for fun. When I needed to declare a major, the only thing I had enough credits in was theater.”

“I’ve never met anyone who was an actor who didn’t want to be.”

“I like it, I really do. I don’t want to be famous or anything, though. There are enough acting gigs in New York and connections from college to keep me busy and employed until the next thing.”

“What’s the next thing?”

“I like acting, but not forever. I might go back to school, maybe a masters? I have a little sister, Estelle, so I want to stay New York.”

“How old is she?”

“She’s only nine, she’s my half-sister from stepdad, Paul. I want to be there as she grows up so I would never leave New York.”

“That’s what we all said.”

“Hm?”

Annabeth’s expression fell, “We all said we’d never leave New York. I’m the only one left. We all went to camp up here, and I remember we all talked about how we’d move to the city together. We all did at first, but eventually everyone moved to New Rome out in California.”

“Yuck,” Percy joked, “Imagine leaving the greatest city in the world for California.”

“I don’t know, what’s New York given me? Rent I can barely keep up with and my only friends now are my roommate’s.”

“Not true. Look at you, only 25-years-old and the most successful architect I’ve ever met.”

“You meet a lot of architects?” Annabeth grinned.

“No, but I know you designed that new building on Lexington Avenue.”

Annabeth’s heart warmed at the fact that he remembered the building she was proudest of designing.

“Why did you want to be an architect?”

Annabeth paused, they weren’t dancing as much as just swaying in place with the music now. She thought about it, “I wanted to build something permanent. Everyone in my life is always leaving and moving, but buildings will be there pretty much forever. Camp is the only home I’ve ever known.

“I moved around a lot with my mom and my dad and step family and my cousins in Boston. I finally asked my dad to send me to boarding school just so I at least knew where I would be for the next four years no matter where he moved. Boarding school and camp. Even my friends, Piper and all of them moved back to New Rome. I’m just tired of people leaving.”

Annabeth’s last thought hung in the air between them. Percy brushed a strand of hair out of her face. The song changed into an upbeat pop track.

“Oh gods, here she comes,” Annabeth muttered.

“Who?”

“Annabeth! Well, this must be the first time you’ve ever gotten on the dance floor, isn’t it?” Aphrodite said, walking over to the couple. She eyed Percy and grinned, her perfectly white teeth glinting, “And I finally get to meet your date.”

“Er, Percy, this is Piper’s mom, Aphrodite. Aphrodite, this is my, uh, boyfriend, Percy Jackson.”

Percy held out his hand, “Nice to meet you, Mrs. McLean.” Aphrodite held her out like she expected Percy to kiss it. He awkwardly shook it.

“Oh, please, call me Aphrodite. Piper’s father and I are not married.”

“Oh sorry-”

“You know, I’ve always had a knack for couples, and you two simply look perfect together. Seeing you in this particular setting. Annabeth, I’m sure you’re just itching to walk down the aisle after last year-”

“Mom! There you are,” Piper called, walking over to them with Jason in tow, “Um, Dad is telling Jason’s parents how you guys met, you better get over there-”

“Tristan knows I hate the way he tells that story, he tripped me on the red carpet…” Aphrodite muttered, stalking over to the parents’ table.

“Sorry about my mother, Percy,” Piper nudged his arm, “But, hey! You survived a conversation with her at a wedding so you’ll survive any holiday with us now.”

Percy shrugged, “I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Speaking of which,” Jason said, “You really got along well with all of us this weekend, it’s like you’ve been part of our little family this whole time.”

“Wow, thanks, man. That means a lot.” Annabeth gripped Percy’s arm tighter.

“Good, because we need a favor. Dakota’s flight is delayed in Ohio, he’s going to try to drive up tonight to make it in time for the reception tomorrow, but would you fill in tomorrow during the ceremony for him? You can walk Annabeth down the aisle and Nico can walk with Drew.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’d be honored,” Percy said, somewhat surprised.

“Oh, gods,” Piper said, glancing over to their parents along with other partygoers since the volume of their conversation was escalating, “We better go deal with that.”

“Hey,” Percy, nudging Annabeth who had been strangely silent during the conversation, “You okay?”

“I just need another drink. Make that two. But hey, I guess you’re entitled to the free bar now that you’re part of the wedding party.”

Percy threw his arm around her shoulders, “Coming right up, milady.” He steered her to the bar.

Annabeth was drunk. So drunk that if Percy let go of her waist, she’d probably fall right over. Good thing Annabeth had no intention of letting go of Percy any time soon.

She was all over him, and she wasn’t the only one to notice. The bridesmaids and groomsmen were crowded around the beverage table as Leo called for another round of wedding party shots. Annabeth threw her glass back confidently, aware of Luke watching her. He’d been staring at her all night. Of course, Annabeth stared right back at Luke as she looped her arms around Percy’s neck. Luke grimaced and stalked away.

A song Leo had requested came on and they all dispersed back to the dancefloor. Annabeth, in no shape to dance, dragged Percy back to their table.

“You are doing fantastic!” Annabeth said, grinning, her nose inches away from Percy’s face.

“Thanks?”

“Did you see Luke’s face? He looks like he wants to just about die. You must really look into me. Oh, gods, they all love you, especially Piper. When I tell them, it’ll break their hearts.”

“Tell them what?”

“That we broke up.”

“What?”

“Yeah, we’ll eventually have to fake break up, but we shouldn’t drag this on any longer than we have to. We can’t fake date forever or we’ll have to fake engaged, then get fake married and have a fake wedding. I’ll probably wait until they’re back from their honeymoon to tell them we broke up. I don’t know, I’ll say I got too busy at work.” Annabeth mulled over, her eyes getting glassy.

“Uh, yeah. Right...that would be believable. You choosing work over me.”

Was that a dig at her? Annabeth’s brain was too foggy for her to comprehend. She reached for her glass of wine. However, her depth perception was quite off and she knocked the glass directly into Percy’s lap. He yelped as the red liquid seeped into his slacks.

“Oh, Percy! I’m so sorry!” Annabeth jumped up and grabbed a napkin off the table and began furiously rubbing Percy’s crotch.

“I got it, I got it!” Percy protested, trying to stop her assault on his pants.

“Let me help you-”

“Annabeth, stop,” People took her wrists, struggling to pry her hands off of him and bumping into his drink spilled on Annabeth’s shoes.

“Look what you did, you’re such a Seaweed Brain! Just let me help you!”

“Look at what I did, look what you did, Wise Girl!”

Annabeth dropped the napkins, crossing her arms. Percy sighed, looking down at his now ruby stained trousers.

“What the hell is going on over here? Lover’s tiff already?” Thalia asked, sauntering over to the couple.

Percy panicked, his arm immediately went around her waist to pull Annabeth into his lap to hide the stain, “Of course not, just, uh, talking you know.”

Thalia laughed, “Relax, Percy, accidents happen. Annabeth gets clumsy when she’s drunk.”

“Hey!”

Annabeth moved back to her own seat, “I do not.”

Percy rose, grabbing a napkin to hide the stain, I’m just going to run back to the cabin and change. I’ll be right back, okay?” Percy kissed her on the forehead before walking away, whether for show in front of Thalia or habit, Annabeth had no idea.

“You guys are too cute,” Thalia said.

Annabeth smiled tightly, if anyone was going to see through this ruse, it was going to be Thalia.

“Come get another drink with me, Annie.”

At the beverage table, Thalia got a glass of wine, but Annabeth opted for water.

“Annabeth, I need to tell you something.”

Percy made sure not to lose his balance on the steep path back to the Big House from the cabins. He had a fresh pair of pants on, and was eager to get back to the party.

“Hey!”

Percy turned to see Luke Castellan trekking up the hill to meet him, “Oh, you.”

Luke stalked right up to him, “Listen, dude. I don’t know who the fuck you are-”

“Whoa, Luke, chill out,” Percy could smell the alcohol radiating off of him, giving him flashbacks to his childhood apartment locked up with his terrible first stepdad, Gabe, “You’re drunk.”

“Don’t tell me what the fuck I am. I don’t know who you are-”

“I’m Annabeth’s boyfriend-”

“Clearly, she just brought you here to make me jealous. Are you from work? You’re just some bitch architect at her firm, aren’t you?”

“Listen, Luke. I’m not doing this-”

“I’m sure she seems like she’s super into you, but she’s not over me yet.”

Percy glowered, “Fuck off, Luke. Get out of here. Sleep this off.”

Luke glared, downing the rest of his drink and stalking away.

“What is it, Thals? Is something wrong?” The two had walked over to a grove of tears to talk, further away from the rehearsal dinner.

Thalia looked like she was about to cry. Annabeth had never seen her cry.

“I’m in love with Luke.”

Annabeth blinked, she definitely just had a stroke. From the heat or from the alcohol, but, “What?”

“Annabeth, I’m in love with Luke. I’ve been in love with Luke. Since we were all younger. The whole time you guys were dating, it broke my heart every fucking day.”

“Thalia, I...I don’t know what to say.”

“I know it’s awful because we’re best friends. The three of us were best friends. It didn’t even make me happy when you guys broke up last year because I knew you were still so in love with him. Every time we talked on the phone when I moved to New Rome, I knew you weren’t over the engagement yet.”

“I-”

“But now, I see you with Percy and you’re so happy and we love Percy. Luke and I are so much closer now in New Rome, and I like him. Maybe you can finally get over Luke and-”

“I’m paying him.”

“What?”

“I’m paying him. Percy. I paid him to come here to make Luke jealous. He’s not my boyfriend.”

[darklingichor]

Gilmore Girls Ep. 18-20

Racing the storm here but I wanted to get episodes 18, 19, and 20 out of the way. I am terming these three episodes “The Rage Trilogy”. If ever there was a time that I was going to turn this show off and curse the creators’ names to the muses Calliope and Thalia* it was when I was watching these episodes. However, I am not going to beaten by a show where two of the most emotionally stable people are a couple who needed cooking oil to get their 30-something cat out from under the house.

*The Greek muses of epic poetry and comedy. Those names have been rattling around in my head since I took a Greek history class and I finally get to use them. All right! My student loan debt is justified!

Episode 18 – Again, let get the stuff out of the way that I liked. I liked that Paris went to Rory for her date prep. Paris has a kind of vulnerability and I think that Rory is good for her. Much better than the bubble-head twins. I get why Paris was angry when she found out that Rory talked Tristan into going out with her. Rory was playing a dangerous game there; all be it a well-intentioned one. But, you can’t tell me the that Tristan was innocent. If that douche canoe didn’t realize that that information would upset Paris, I am seriously doubting the education these kids are getting. I liked Emily being twisted up by her mother- in- law. I loved any scene with Michel. Ditto for anything Sookie says. That’s it.

The rest – yeah, so wanted to slap everyone and it was exacerbated by the fact that this episode has NO LUKE.

I couldn’t get mad about Trix. She’s the standard stock rich relative/ mother-in-law character you see in every show. Annoying, but to be expected. But Emily and Lorelai? They need a fucking time-out.

Frist off, can Emily be more manipulative?  Planting all of those doubts in Lorelai’s head because she didn’t want to lose her hold on her? This just confirms what I’ve been thinking for a while. Those dinners might as well be hostage situations!

Seriously, she’s acting like a Bond villain. I’m half expecting her to shackle Lorelai and Rory to the dinner table and announce that the Friday Night Dinners were really just a ploy to get the secret stash of plutonium that is located under Stars Hollow and Sookie’s Magic Risotto recipe. The cost of Chilton was a small price to pay for world domination and risotto based immortality!

Emily would rather ruin her granddaughter’s opportunity for a comfortable future just so she can continue to erode her daughter’s self-worth? No wonder Lorelai would only spend time with her if she had to. Why would anyone willingly submit to that kind of abuse? It’s like paying for someone to continuously kick you in the head when that really isn’t your thing.

Emily’s about 85% evil, we knew this; and while it is frustrating to see her emotionally flip-flop like a dying carp, I should expect her to be a raging bitch. However, this is the first time I’ve been pissed at Lorelai.

I knew she could be selfish, but I didn’t know she could be THIS selfish. She knows that Rory wouldn't blow through the trust fund money but she doesn’t want to take it because she doesn’t want Rory to leave?

WHAT?

I mean, I get it, I’m supposed to see a parallel between Lorelai and Emily, but it’s stupid!

One, at this point she and Rory have a good relationship. Rory would have no reason to run away like Lorelai did. Two, so what if Rory goes to Europe without her? Yeah, it would suck and it would hurt but that is not a reason to turn down the opportunity to have your daughter’s schooling paid for!

“Let’s not set up your future, Rory because I might be left out when you go have fun.”

Yeah, that’s not irresponsible and absolutely trucks with the character who is putting her mental health at risk so her kid can have the best education she can get. I’m surprised Sookie didn’t slap her and tell her to get her head out of her ass!

This episode was insane and put me on a low simmer, the next episode turned up the heat.

Episode 19 – This episode should have been called Lorelai is the Victim of Passive-Aggressive Behavior. Granted after the last episode I was almost willing to see it, but it wore pretty thin.

What is with this Rachel chick? Why did she put a picture of Lorelai and Luke in front of them and ask Luke entrapment questions? Does she think she’s being subtle? Just talk to your boyfriend! Though I did like that she seems to appreciate that Lorelai puts the effort in to keep her and Luke together.

As before, prior to getting to the part that made smoke come out of my ears, I’ll look at the happy making stuff.  

If Rune is going to be a reoccurring character, I hope we get more back and forth between him and Michel. A sarcastic desk clerk and a humorless handy-man? I smell a sitcom!

As always Sookie was adorable and so was Lane.

I loved that Rachel took Lorelai to The Dragonfly and that Lorelai and Sookie are envisioning the future.

The back and forth between Luke and Lorelai was gold, but he is doing a poor job of hiding how desperately in love with her he is. It is also sweet that we get more glimpses into Luke’s sentimental side. He lives in his dad’s old office, and I am willing to bet that those frilly curtains were picked out by his mom, grandmother, or sister.

And now, another look at Emily’s “How Petty Can I Be?” log.

See that daughter lived in a shed with granddaughter. Rather than examine why my teenaged daughter with a baby found this preferable to living with me, spend hundreds if not thousands of dollars to design granddaughter a room. This room is not a good-will gesture, the purpose is to encourage a rift between daughter and granddaughter.

Petty Level: 2000

Excellent.

Seriously, is Emily twelve years old?! Think about the concentrated passive aggressiveness it took to make that room just to shove the past in Lorelai’s face. It is almost frightening.

You know, I thought she was being sweet at first? I figured that Rory already had a room at her grandparent’s house. Seemed reasonable in a house that big. I thought that seeing where they use to live made Emily think that since she can’t go back in time and make Lorelai comfortable, she could make Rory comfortable. This was why I think it was weird for Lorelai. Everything in her childhood had to be a reflection of Emily. I got that idea early on. At the twin wedding when she relates to the little girl who was told that she couldn’t mess up her dress. She couldn’t be herself. I would put money on the idea that those posters up in Lorelai’s room lead to an argument between her and Emily. So the fact that Emily decorated a room to Rory’s taste was unexpected. She even apologized for not being more delighted.

But no, this wasn’t a nice thing for Rory, this was yet another way to rag on her daughter. I get it, she was hurt by the fact that Lorelai ran away and would have rather lived in a shed. But shouldn’t she have asked herself why?

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all Emily and Richard’s fault but instead of just throwing up her hands and declaring that Lorelai is unfathomable and her actions insane, maybe look at why a little rich girl would rather be a maid and work her ass off to support herself and her kid, than live at home where all of her and her baby’s needs will be met. Could it possibly have anything to do with how you treated her? And the fact that she didn’t want you to treat her daughter that way?

Add to this that Emily seems to have a long-term plan to drive a wedge between Lorelai and Rory so Lorelai can be hurt like she was. This is really sinister considering she’s doing this shit to hurt her daughter and isn’t considering the fact that her granddaughter will be hurt too.

At this point, I hate her so much and am trying to figure out if we later find out that she has been a serial killer all this time because these are the actions of someone who is calculating enough to be criminally insane!

Episode 20 – Although there were parts that I really liked in this episode (Lorelai buying Rachel’s presents and clothes for Luke) I’m not even going to look at them because this episode turned me into angry Hades from Disney’s Hercules.

Okay, Rory’s stressed. I don’t do romantic relationships but I understand that one ending is devastating, especially for a teenager. I was the organizer of too many ice cream sessions and on the other end of the phone for too much sobbing (all the while planning the downfall of the person who made my friend cry like that) not to know that heartbreak feels like it sounds.

She was at her breaking point, I understand. That being said, here’s how that situation would have gone if I were Lorelai.

Rory left without leaving a note, which is something weird for her. Sure we argued but my first thought would not be that she left, my first thought would have been that she didn’t make it home. Cops would have been called.

I would have asked Max if anything happened at school. He would have told me about him butting in. I would put a pin in that and talk to him about it later.

The conversation with Emily would have ended with me talking to Rory because I would not have put up with that smug, self-satisfied tone and her telling me I can’t talk to my kid.

After talking to Rory and telling her she can stay the night if she wants (she needs to cool down), and calling the cops and my search party to let them know that she’s safe, my next call would be to Trix.

I would tell her that Emily crossed a line, that I no longer want to be indebted to her. Talk her around, it won’t be hard considering how much Trix doesn’t like Emily.

The trust fund would be set up under the condition that only money for school related costs can be taken out for the first year, this includes paying Emily and Richard the loan back.

When Rory came home: I would talk to her. Tell her that Max was way out of line talking to her about Dean. (Seriously, does this man not understand “time and place”?) That I was sorry for not telling her about Max. She can talk about Dean if she needs to and that I understand she’s hurting and that she needed space.

However, you do not just run off! You leave a note; you make a call. I don’t care if we had an argument. I don’t care if you lost your voice and your fingers fell off, send a telegram with your nose if you have to just get in touch.

Then, Grounded into Oblivion.

At least when Lane went out she didn’t leave town and was planning on coming home.

As soon as everything with the trust fund was set up I would call Emily and tell her that because she thought it was her right to almost gleefully (she really sounded happy, it was disgusting) deny me the ability to talk to my daughter while I cried from absolute terror, the agreement was canceled, the dinners would stop and a check would be in the mail.

I would also tell her that while I wouldn’t keep her from seeing Rory, she better damn well understand that it is not within her rights to call the shots when it comes to her. For as long as Rory is grounded, Emily and Richard can come to Stars Hollow but they will respect me in my own house or out they go.

This episode made me so angry. I hate the fact that both Rory and Emily got out of this consequence free. I hate the fact that Lorelai was never told that Max talked to Rory.  I hate the fact Max butting into Rory’s personal life, in school no less, didn’t lead to an argument between him and Lorelai. That was really inappropriate and certainly not something the mother’s “kinda, sorta boyfriend” should do.

I hate the fact that even in Lorelai’s little love speech it still came off that it the break up was Rory’s fault. Dean gets off the hook ‘cause he says he loves her? Um, no. He was the asshole’s asshole. You don’t pressure someone like that and then dump them because you tried to dictate their emotions and it didn’t work. That’s a really nasty thing to do and you don’t get to be the victim because you “love” them.

Doesn’t anyone get that if Rory would have said it back after all of the pressure he put on her, it wouldn’t have counted? It is like a confession given under duress, meaningless. And the people who forced the confession, way out of line.

Seriously, I was ready to give up on the show after this episode, I was that pissed. However, I do like the other characters and would like to see how it pans out. I also figure it couldn’t have gone seven seasons and gotten a revival if one of the main characters were consistently and delightedly evil all of the time.

Tomorrow is the last episode of the season and then: Once more into the breech for Season Two.