#i too would do whatever margaux told me to do

[barrowsteeth]

Transatlantic (2023) 1.03 | The Wilderness

ID in ALT. Caption plain text: Transatlantic 2023 1.03 The Wilderness end plain text.

[bibbawrites]

The Little Princess - Single!Dad Charlie

Request: None 

Word Count: 1531 words

Warnings: none that i can tell?

Summary: Part 1 of the single dad!Charlie series, just some cute fluff and introduction to little Margaux Ivy Gillespie 

A/N: okay so i need some input, i’m not sure if i should just make this the adventures of single dad!charlie and him raising his daughter on his own, or introduce the reader as a love interest at some point the original plan was the reader meeting charlie’s daughter, but i had inspiration to write this instead and i kinda really enjoy single charlie trying to be a good dad while juggling working full time and not worrying about a love interest?  idk, if you guys hate this please let me know 

Tag List:  @happinessinthedarkesttimes​ @littlemissaddict @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @headheartbellarke @lovesanimals​ @bartok-the-bat @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik @kaitieskidmore1

“Come on Owen, we’re going to be late.” Charlie called, leaning down to pick up his three year old daughter from her spot on the couch. 

“Where we going Daddy?” She asked, snuggling into her father’s arms, and Charlie couldn’t help but smile. 

The little girl in his arms was the light of his life. She was born when Charlie was just 18, and her biological mother had been 25. Although her conception had been an accident, the little girl was anything but that. From the moment he first held her in his arms, Charlie promised to never let anything happen to her. Her mother had left her with him when she was just three days old, along with a note saying that she really couldn’t handle being a mother yet, and that she was really sorry. He should have realised something was up when she had insisted he name the baby himself, whatever he wanted, and she didn’t have any complaints when he decided on Margaux Ivy, despite the fact that she had hated both of those names every other time he had brought them up. But he was too in love with the feeling of being a new father to even question it. 

“Going to set Princess.” He told her, as Owen entered the room, his hair a mess and one shoe in his hand. Margaux giggled at the sight, pulling a face at Owen. 

“You look funny.” She told him and Charlie couldn’t help but laugh. 

“She’s not wrong.” He agreed as Owen struggled to put his second shoe on. After a moment he succeeded, turning to the father daughter duo with a playful eye roll. 

“The honesty of three year olds.” He said, and Charlie laughed again. 

“Gotta love ‘em.” He joked, and Owen nodded in agreement, smiling at Margaux.

“Couldn’t live without you, could we Maggie?” He asked and Margaux poked her tongue out at him, which he quickly mimicked. 

His nickname for the toddler had come from an inside joke. When Owen had first met Margaux, he had only heard Charlie refer to her as Mags, so naturally the blond boy had assumed her name was Maggie, and even after he found out her real name the nickname stuck. 

Charlie smiled at the interaction, before opening the door and letting Owen pass them, before locking their door and together the trio headed down to Charlie’s car. 

-

Not long after, they arrived on set, jumping out of the car quickly to avoid being late. Margaux ran ahead of them as they quickly rushed towards the rehearsal area where they were supposed to be meeting Kenny and the other cast members. 

They made it to the tent with less than a minute to spare and Kenny shook his head, although they could easily tell he wasn’t really upset. 

“Take a seat boys.” Kenny told them, and Charlie quickly scooped Margaux up before sitting down with her in his lap. He pulled a colouring book and some crayons out of the bag he carried for Margaux’s things, and placed the book on the table before giving the crayons to the toddler. 

"Thank you Daddy.” She said, and Charlie smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her head before looking up to listen to Kenny run through how the next week was going to be working. 

“Daddy.” Margaux whispered, and Charlie glanced down at her.

“What’s up Mags?” He replied quietly, not wanting to interrupt the meeting. He knew if he missed anything important Owen would let him know. 

“Look.” Margaux pointed to the colouring book. “I coloured it good.” 

Charlie smiled, kissing the top of her head again. 

“Very good.” He praised. “Don’t forget the duckies too.” 

Margaux gasped, picking up the yellow crayon quickly. Charlie couldn’t help but smile as he watched her colour in, in awe of how perfect this little human he had created was. She truly was his greatest achievement. 

He zoned out, watching on as the three year old coloured, only zoning back in when Owen grabbed his shoulder to let him know they were leaving. 

“Come on Mags, Daddy has to go get dressed.” Charlie told her, picking up the crayons. “You can go colour with Aunty Tori.” 

The girl in question grinned from across the table, happy to look after the small girl while Charlie filmed. 

“I would love to colour with you Margaux.” Tori agreed, standing up. Charlie placed Margaux onto the ground, the toddler rushing over to Tori as her father packed up her stuff. Charlie handed the bag to the assistant choreographer, and smiled as he watched the younger girl lead his little girl out of the tent, before standing up and heading off, ready to start his own day. 

-

“Did I miss anything important in that meeting this morning?” Charlie questioned later that evening, as he and Owen walked to get dinner after a full day of filming, Margaux between them holding both of their hands. 

“Swing!” Margaux squealed, and the two of them swung the three year old up between them, both smiling at her excited giggles. 

“Nothing we didn’t already know.” Owen informed him, as they reached the burger shop and joined the line to order. 

“Oh good. I was kinda distracted by Mags.” Charlie admitted, and Owen grinned. 

“Aren’t we all? You’ve got us under a spell Miss Maggie.” He cooed. 

“No, I Princess, 'member?” Margaux mumbled, pressing her face into Owen’s leg. 

“My bad, Princess Maggie.” Owen corrected, running his hand through her messy curls. A woman exiting the store smiled at the sweet scene. 

“Oh, what a lovely little family. Your daughter is very cute.” She complimented. 

“Thank you.” Charlie said quickly, trying to hide his laugh as Owen went bright red. The woman nodded in response before walking out the door. 

“Why did you say thank you?” Owen questioned when the woman was far enough away. 

“Cause. We are a lovely little family.” Charlie shrugged. Margaux pulled on the bottom of Owen’s hoodie and he lent down to pick her up. 

“Aren’t we Mags? Owen’s our family, isn’t he?” Charlie asked, leaning over to press a soft kiss to the three year old’s hair, and Margaux nodded. 

“Yeah.” She said, resting her head on Owen’s shoulder. Owen smiled softly. 

“Well I can’t say no to the Princess can I?” He mumbled. 

“No!” Margaux squealed. Charlie laughed, stepping forward to order for the three of them, content knowing that his pride and joy was safe with his best friend. 

-

By the time they got back to their apartment, ate their meals, and Charlie bathed Margaux, it was time for the three year old to go to sleep. In fact, it was time for all three of them to go to sleep. 

Charlie tucked Margaux into her bed, the little girl snuggling into the toy penguin he had given her as a baby. She couldn’t sleep without it. 

“Night night Daddy.” Margaux mumbled sleepily, pulling on Charlie’s shirt so that he would lean down, and kissing his cheek when he did. 

“Goodnight baby girl, I love you.” He whispered softly, kissing her forehead. 

“Love you too Daddy.” She replied with a yawn. 

She reached out towards Owen, who had been standing in the doorway watching, making grabby hands at the 20 year old. He came over, crouching down next to her bed, and Margaux smiled sleepily. 

“Night night Papa Owen, love you.” She said. Owen’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Charlie for reassurance. Charlie smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder, feeling Owen relax under the gentle touch. 

Owen lent over, placing a soft kiss on Margaux’s head. 

“Nighty night Maggie. Love you too.” He whispered. He stood back up and quietly the two men left the room, flicking the light off and the small bunny night light on as they left. 

“Papa?” Owen questioned once they were in the hallway, Margaux’s door pulled to behind them. Charlie shrugged. 

“If you want it. If you don’t I can tell her to stop.” He replied. Owen shook his head quickly. 

“No, no, I love it. I’ve always wanted to be a dad so...” He trailed off. “Not that I’m her dad cause obviously that’s you, and I’d never try to replace you or be you cause that would be wrong and-” 

“Owen.” Charlie cut him off. “It’s fine. I think it’s really sweet.” 

“Yeah?” Owen asked softly. 

“Yes.” Charlie replied. 

“Okay.” Owen grinned. Charlie returned the smile. 

“We should probably get to bed, we have to be on set early.” He said after a moment of silence. Owen nodded.

“Yeah you’re right.” He agreed. A wide grin appeared on Charlie’s face. 

“Goodnight Papa Owen.” He teased. Owen groaned. 

“It’s just creepy coming from you, Daddy.” He retaliated, and Charlie cringed. 

“Yeah no, let’s not do that.” He said and Owen laughed. 

“Agreed.” He replied. Charlie smiled, pulling Owen into a quick hug. 

“Night Owen.” He mumbled. Owen took a step back. 

“Night Char.” He replied, before heading down the hallway to his own room. 

And with one last glance into Margaux’s room to check on the sleeping toddler, Charlie did the same. 

[throwaninkpot]

Notes from the Return of the Thief launch party Q&A with MWT!

• (I meant to keep a Not Telling tally but I got distracted by all the good words Megan put together.)

EDIT: A VOD of the stream has been posted here!

• It took 20 minutes into the event to get the first Not Telling, and everyone was astonished it wasn't sooner.

• She referenced the Not Telling shirt made for her by @queensandkingsofattolia ! She wasn't wearing it, but she did have her Not Telling socks, which she would put on her hands and hold up to the camera.

• She talked about how she doesn't like suspense as a reader. She always wants the stories to get to the point instead of dragging on, so in writing, she puts light scenes in to break up the suspense. She doesn't always know what those scenes will be, she just has a feel for what's needed there. One example is when Sophos and the magus are traveling to Attolia in aCoK, when they eat the chicken. "We eat the chicken now!" was a scene that made her happy while she wrote it.

• She was asked to explain the gods and how the different pantheons work with each other, and said she never wants to explain the gods. She doesn't want them to be cut-and-dry or understandable.

• Asked about writing such complex, ruthless characters and making them likeable.

Alex (mod): Do you think [the POV characters] good? Megan: *silently presents Not Telling socks*

• Said that if you're going to spend so much time in a characters head, there has to be some part of them that you and the readers will like. And there are some people whose heads she didn't want to be in. Even the ruthless ones making terrible decisions, she does like. "Nahuseresh? Not so much."

Alex: *says something about how they've never encountered books with more poker face than QT* Megan: *big ol' grin*

• Talking about how these books have so many layers and so much suspense, Megan said a lot of that is owing to the fact it's a series and she needed to be consistent, she couldn't switch the style of it or tone halfway through. When she writes the next thing, it might be a whole different kind of book. She'll have to see whether that was just sonething distinctive to QT, or that's what she naturally gravitates towards writing.

• She mentioned that she isn't fond of 1st person narrative, and the chat collective raised a single eyebrows at the irony.

• In fact, TaT was written in 3rd person at first. But she realized that wasn't working so she scrapped that and rewrote the whole thing, bc it needed to be Kamet who was telling us the story.

• She pronounced Kamet as "Kam-et".

• When talking about the details in her books and how they go into logistics, she brought a book onto camera called Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army by Donald W. Engles. It heavily influenced the way she wrote about war and the politics thereof in QT.

• The Thief was partly inspire by a conversation she had with a young relative back during the Bush administration when Kuwait was invaded. The young relative didn't understand what the U.S. was doing in the middle east when we had so many problems to focus in our own country, and Megan explained that we weren't involved in that conflict out of the goodness of our hearts, but bc they had resources we wanted. (The way she phrased it, you could hear the magus talking to the boys in The Thief, and it gave me shivers.) And she realized, kids don't see that side of war in stories. Armies are always fighting Sauron and the forces of evil, and acting out if their own self-interests against people who might not be all bad.

• And thus, The Queen's Thief spiraled jnto existence.

• Why does she choose to write about disability and illness the way she does? Rosemary Sutcliff. Sutcliff was disabled for most of her life, and this reflected in the stories she told. Megan recalls Warrior Scarlet as the first book that challenged her as a kid to think about disability and illness as a natural part of life, and to question who gets to be at the center of the story. Who gets to be the hero? Who gets to be the hero of an adventure story? Why shouldn't characters dealing with illness or disability be those heros?

• TaT was a direct response to Sutcliff's novel Eagle of the Ninth, where an earnest young Roman soldier has these great plans for his life that get toppled when he is injured in his first battle and can no longer serve.

Megan: Costis checks every box for earnest young guy!

• In Eagle, there is a slave who travels with the protagonist and is freed by him at the end as part of the protagonist's journey. It was important to tell TaT from Kamet's point of view so that it was about him. "He is never an object of a quest, always a person."

• Megan has never read The Aeneid.

• She recommends Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin, which tells The Aeneid from a different POV.

• On writing process: She doesn't outline. When she has a book idea, she first tells it as a story by cornering her husband and telling him the whole thing with plenty of hand gestures. After that, she does a "sketch". She writes down the shape of the story, plotlines and characters, which is usually half the length of the finished book. Then she fleshes it out, and cuts and adds and cuts snd adds until she has pretty much a whole book, and then she edits again to cut everything that doesn't absolutely need to be there.

• She says it's important to remember you can't fix everything in one draft. You just need to focus on 20 or so things at a time, and then on the next pass you can focus on 20 other things.

• On keeping characters straight: "It's very crowded in my head." She doesn't focus so much on remembering exactly what she has written about a character before, but knowing who the character is so that she knows how they would react in whatever new situation she is writing them in.

Megan: Okay, Costis. I know this guy, I know what he's going to do. He's going to punch that guy in the face and it will be very embarrassing.

• A lot of people asked about the vampires referenced in The Thief and if they were real. She's not telling.

• Someone *cough*me*cough* Asked if she was planning a spin-off series about Eddisian vampires falling in love. "Never say never, but it's probably unlikely."

Alex: What happened to Ornon's sheep? Megan: Guys....guys......I have to put on another sock, come on, guys! *digs for her Not Telling socks and holds them up*

• On worldbuilding: You have to break with reality. It's great to research the process of how to retin pans! Adding details like that can enrich your story, but you can also add things that wouldn't have been possible in the real world. Like, pocket watches and window glass and printing presses all at the same time. The made up details also make your story richer.

Megan: Cut the research and tell a good story!

• On myths: She never writes the myths first. When she was writing The Thief, she would make a new line and type "[Myth Here]" and then go on with the rest of the story and cone back to that later.

• She recommends Ancient Near East Texts by James B. Pritchard for some good myths!

• What she likes best about DWJ: The Audacity(tm). DWJ would write about the most bizarre things very casually.

Megan: Her stories had a "hold my beer" quality.

• She told the story about hiw DWJ got her published (Alex: "She had good taste") and trying to send DWJ the advanced copy of aCoK before she died, but those stories have been retold elsewhere before so I won't bother with them now.

• Megan wore lovely, lovely earrings! And at the beseechment of the chat, she showed them to the camera and told us they were made by @freenarnian

• Finally, the winner of the trivia party was granted the honor of asking a question on camera, and Megan benevolently said she would not cry Not Telling on whatever was asked.

• Margaux, the winner, asked what the age difference was between Dite and Irene, and if they had grown up together.

• After a REAL long pause, Megan said that she didn't think they had grown up together. Irene is younger than Dite, and she was too busy, and I quote, "killing people." Her childhood ended early and she didn't have time to be a kid. Besides that, they wouldn't have been allowed to hang out in Attolian society, bc she was a girl and he was a boy. They were probably introduced to each other atvevents, but that was it.

• Also: Dite is pronounced "Die-tee".

• She has more events like this planned in the future!!!!! Keep an eye on her tumblr!!!!!

• EDIT: @whataliethatwas made a transcript of the event!

[clownsgobeepbeep]

Did you eat all of the chocolate

Phew, this was a bit longer than planned ^^ But have a hopefully nice fic about Jelly and Lennie taking their latest grandkids to Disney huehue

One could have said it was just another one of those days for the three siblings Cordelia had brought into her family months back, but it really was not just one of those days.

As they came into the family, the three learned that the family was actually rich. Perhaps a bit influential as well. And with money and very caring and generous relatives came the spoiling.

“Is there a third park we could go to!?”

“In this area, there’s only two. There are other parks, but they’re for different companies.”

“Can we go to those too!?”

“How about we enjoy these for now? We are going to be here for three days. We can go back on the rapids ride tomorrow, and without ponchos this time.~”

“Yes!”

Margaux, Felix, and Damian walked down the brick pathway that was placed between the two entrances leading to the parks their grandparents Jelly and Lennie offered to bring them to, to spend some quality time and have fun. To Jelly, one park was not enough, so they were now hopping on over to the titular one.

“Does this one also have a water ride?”

“Yes it does.” Jelly nodded, letting go of Felix’s hand so that she could present all of the tickets before everybody was allowed into the park. “It’s called Splash Mountain and it’s a thrill ride. Pretty sure you’d enjoy it.”

“Great!” Felix jumped in the air, the only thing preventing him from jumping high being Jelly’s hand that he once again held. On Jelly’s other side was Margaux’s, the little one tightly holding her plush mouse in her other arm.

“Calm down partner.” Jelly chuckled to herself, finding Felix absolutely adorable in his Woody costume. She would have never expected that to be his Hallowen costume, but she loved it just like the ones his siblings wore.

“Can we go to that one!?” Felix continued before Jelly looked over at the pair that was beside Felix, her husband who was dressed in a bear onesie and the eldest of the siblings who was dressed like a gangster. A gangster weasel to be exact.

“What do you guys think? Splash Mountain is a tad bit far.” Jelly commented.

“Whatever the kids want really.” Lennie shrugged, then looking up at Damian who held a map of the park.

“Maybe we should go to...Tomorrowland…” he blinked at the name, then darting his eyes down at Lennie who was quite occupied with a colorful concha in his hands. “What kind of a name is that?”

“It’s the land of tomorrow. The future.” Jelly shrugged with a smile before motioning over to the left after they had all walked through Main Street. “Any ride catches your eye?”

“Pick a rollercoaster! There has to be a rollercoaster!” Felix exclaimed, watching his brother continue to read the map. “Damian!”

“Okay, okay.” Damian shushed him, then turning his attention up as he noticed there was a ride his brother would enjoy despite not being full-on thrilling. “How about that one?”

The rest of the group led their gaze to the side where Damian was pointing, a corner with a sort of antenna with rings around it. On both sides that made up the corner read BUZZ LIGHTYEAR Astro Blasters.

“Buzz Lightyear!?” Felix gasped at the sight, his eyes merely out of control as he scanned every inch of the building that even had a large sign featuring the mentioned character. “Is Buzz Lightyear in there!?”

“Kind of.” Jelly made sure to hold his hand tight enough so that he wouldn’t run off. “But, you probably won’t like him very much.”

“Wha-” Felix’s expression dropped, now looking at Jelly in pure disbelief before she leaned down to whisper.

“Won’t like him as much as the real Buzz Lightyear who walks around here.~”

Immediately, Felix’s eyes widened as did his smile.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s get on the ride so we can meet Buzz afterwards!” Jelly tugged on Felix’s arm, practically watching him vibrate with excitement before he attempted to run off to the queue line. “Hold up little cowboy, remember we have the fast passes.”

“Right!” Felix jumped around, allowing Jelly to talk to the employee before everybody was allowed in. However, Lennie stopped Jelly before going any further. 

“Jelly-Bean, how about I hold Margaux’s hand for now?” he offered.

“Oh I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“I insist.” Lennie quietly laughed as he looked over at the jumping cowboy. “You might need the help.”

“Okay, okay.” Jelly giggled. “Margaux, come on over here and have some time with your grandpa. You guys are sitting on the ship together.”

Margaux briefly nodded, eventually being startled by a loud gasp from Felix.

“It’s Buzz!” he pointed at the animatronic that was apparently giving instructions for the mission on a giant Etch-A-Sketch. 

“Settle down Felix.” Damian called from behind, seeing that others in line were giving Felix a few looks.

“Damian, let him have fun. It’s okay.” Jelly pet Felix’s head after his cowboy hat flew off. “It’s Disneyland.”

“I guess.” Damian shrugged as he followed behind Lennie and Margaux, Felix and Jelly being right at the very front as they did a bit of line before soon enough finding themselves at the loading station.

They watched as the “ships” constantly moved in their line, Felix becoming more excited as he and Jelly were led to one. He immediately hopped inside and made space for Jelly, the latter turning around to see Damian in the ship behind them so that Lennie could keep an eye on him from behind as he sat with Margaux.

“So what do we do!?” Felix clenched his fists in thrill, soon feeling as the front part of their ship came forwards and he got a closer look at the galactic looking guns.

“Take one and shoot the bad guys.” Jelly grinned, taking one of her own before showing him how to hit a target, immediately getting points. “Let’s see who can get the most points in the end.~”

“I’m gonna beat you Damian!” Felix laughed behind himself, his brother slightly smiling while rolling his eyes at the comment.

“Whatever you say Felix.”

And after taking a ride through the galaxy with Buzz Lightyear, Felix could say that he did beat his brother Damian. But that didn’t make him the one with the highest score.

“Wow! Ranger first class!?” Felix exclaimed at the scoreboard he and his family looked at after his sister had told him the total score of points she got after shooting all the bad guys. “That’s awesome Margaux!”

“Thank you.” the child played with her feet, hugging Mr. Jingles close.

“Me and Damian are…”Felix examined the board. “Planetary Pilots! So close to Space Scout! I still beat Damian though.~”

“You sure did.” Lennnie pat Felix’s back as they all made their way out through the exit of the ride, already having collected the codes to buy pictures of them on it later. “Where to now?”

“There was...a ride I noticed.” Damian commented. “The white one-”

Damian was soon interrupted by yet another gasp from his brother, his boots clicking against the ground as he managed to escape from Jelly’s hand and ran over to what was revealed to be the store.

“It’s Buzz! And a Buzz jacket! A-And the little green men! And Zurg! And an actual Astro Blaster!” Felix fawned over all of the merchandise, especially the Buzz Lightyear toy. “Aww! I wish I had this guy…”

“Felix, honey.” Jelly carefully took the box, looking down at the price. “The toy costs thirty-five dollars.”

“Oh…”Felix’s smile dropped, disappointment filling him.

“That leaves more than enough money to get something else. Do you want the jacket too? What size are you? I can even get you a pin or we can look at other things throughout the day.”

“Are you serious nana!?” Felix immediately lit up as he watched Jelly pick out a hooded sweater that made the wearer look like they were dressed as Buzz.

“Is she serious?” Damian blinked at the sight, having asked Lennie who gave a shrug and laugh.

“She loves to spoil the grandkids, and she said she never wanted to become a grandmother.” Lennie turned to look up at Damian. “What was the ride you wanted to go on?”

“Oh. It doesn’t matter.”

“If you don’t tell me right now, your Mama Coral’s gonna ask you and you don’t want that.”

Damian stared at Lennie for a moment, then darting his eyes over at Margaux who gave a shrug.

“It’s the white building next to the rocket, I think that’s a pizza place. The ride seemed interesting. Space or Galaxy something.”

“Oh, Ghost Galaxy.” Lennie nodded. “Yeah, it’s actually called Space Mountain but it’s Ghost Galaxy during the Halloween season. That one’s an indoor rollercoaster. It’s nice.”

“R-Rollercoaster?” Margaux hugged her mouse tighter.

“You don’t have to go on it. Either me or Coral can stay outside with you, don’t worry.” Lennie reassured her, giving her hand a comforting squeeze before they all looked at Jelly and Felix. “We can go on it after we meet Buzz Lightyear.”

_____________

“Man, false advertisement!”

“What do you mean?” 

“I barely got wet!”

Jelly and Lennie laughed to themselves as they all walked out of a ride that was not in Tomorrowland, for they had moved away from that area and into New Orlean’s Square. Here, they had decided to go on a rather tame ride despite having a bit of a drop that was tolerable even by Margaux.

“You still got a few drops. Nothing in your boots, right?”

“Not even a snake in here.” Felix joked, eventually giving a loud laugh at the thought of it and his costume. “That was good.”

“Do you really want to be getting your costume wet though?” Jelly tugged at one of Felix’s sleeves.

“I don’t mind!”

“I mean, if you really want to get wet, have I got the place for you.” Jelly waved around the park map. “Unless you want to eat first.”

“I could really go for some nachos right now.” Felix stated, until he heard terrified screams that made him look past some tall trees that surrounded a mansion he currently did not care for. “What was that?”

“Come over here.” Lennie motioned to the three kids, bringing them over to an area where there was a fence, and beyond it was a pile of scary-looking thorns. “That’s what it is.”

All three of them looked up at what was a funny-looking mountain, right in it was a black hole from which a stream of water fell. Watching intently, they saw as a log slowly appeared, and then a person sitting in it. Soon enough, the entire log came into full view before it slid down the water stream at full speed as screams were heard at the same time.

“Oh my god.” Felix started. “Punpa. Nana. We HAVE to go on that!”

“We don’t have to go on that.” Margaux shook her head.

“That is true, we don’t have to.” Jelly rubbed her shoulders. “Lennie, how about you take the boys on Splash?”

“You sure? I don’t mind staying with Margaux.”

“You stayed out for Space Mountain, it’s my turn.” Jelly nodded. “We can always come back here and to Space Mountain and take turns.”

“Well, if you say so.” Lennie let go of Margaux’s hand, Jelly now taking it before she handed a backpack over to Damian.

“The ponchos are in here, just in case you don’t want to be getting wet.” Jelly pat his arm. “And make sure you don’t let go on that ride. Especially you Felix.”

“Thanks.”

“But why not!?”

“Okay, okay. You can let your hands up if you sit in the front.”

“That’s exactly where I planned on sitting!” Felix stated as he got into a marching position, ready to head off before he was followed by his brother and grandpa after exchanging a few more words with Jelly.

“So Margaux, what would you like to do now?” Jelly rubbed her thumb over Margaux’s knuckles with a warm smile. “Maybe go on another ride while we wait?”

Margaux pondered to herself for a moment, glancing over at Mr. Jingles before placing a hand on her stomach. As if on command, her stomach gave a growl that made Jelly give a bit of a giggle.

“So, first we eat, huh?” 

_____________

Lennie had called Jelly, telling her that he and the boys were done with Splash Mountain, Felix speaking loud in the back of course. Considering how Jelly had decided she wanted to take Margaux over to Fantasyland and already having reached the location, she suggested that he and the boys go on the ride again or at least the nearest roller coaster which was another mountain.

“W-What’s the name of the o-one they’re on?”

“It’s Big Thunder Mountain. Cowboy-style stuff.” Jelly informed her as she playfully swung around her hand that held onto Margaux’s. “But let’s let go of that stuff for now and talk about princesses, yeah?”

“I like princesses.” Margaux nodded, the tiniest smile present on her features as she looked around the area that was filled with cottage-looking buildings. “Where are they?”

“They’re over at the fair, but we can meet them later. Would you like that?”

Margaux replied with a nod of her head, soon taking a good look at Jelly who noticed.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes.” Margaux whispered, her eyes fixated on Jelly’s dress. 

“Margaux…”

“I j-just really think your dress is pretty…”she let go of Jelly’s hand to softly run a hand over the dress which was half blue and half pink. “My Gam Gam is a Disney princess.”

“Oh Margaux, it’s just a cos-” Jelly spoke but then stopped herself, then twirling a lock of her golden hair. “I mean, I do sleep a lot. And I have little fairies, except there’s twenty-three of them.”

“What?” Margaux silently gasped. 

“Uh huh, and they’re all pink. They look like little jellyfish who float all over the place.”

“Even around Grampy? Like the fairies and Prince Philip?”

“Oh definitely.” Jelly nodded as she led Margaux through the crowd, bringing her over to a building near the carousel. “Your Grampy even defeated a big bad dragon that took me away.”

“He did?”

“Of course. He’s so brave and courageous.” Jelly giggled to herself. “Then he gave me a big kiss.”

“And he woke you up?”

“Yup!” Jelly gave another nod, eventually stopping as they now stood in front of the building that read Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique.

“What’s this?” Margaux blinked up at the building, heart racing at the sight of beautiful crowns carefully placed on display behind the large window near the entrance.

“This is where princesses get their outfits.” Jelly released Margaux’s hand, now placing both of hers on the child’s shoulders. “So what dress does the princess want?”

“Dress?” Margaux examined the area after she was brought inside by Jelly, looking around at the displays of princess dresses that were all on small mannequins. “Oh my.”

She hugged Mr. Jingles against her chest, shifting as she looked at all of the dresses and crowns, a small smile forming on her lips.

_____________

“Nana! That ride was insane! Well, both of them were! And the second one was so crazy it basically dried our clothes up after Splash Mountain!” Felix ran towards Jelly and Margaux, soon gasping as he skid to a stop so as to not crash into them. “Is that a churro!?”

“Yes.” Margaux responded before taking a bite out of her churro, letting Mr. Jingles take a bite out of it.

“Just got a churro and some gingerbreads for Margaux and Mr. Jingles. I bought some chocolates for everyone too.”

“Gam-Gam even got a little Mickey Mouse hat for Mr. Jingles.” Margaux mentioned as she showed off the tiny hat. “Now he’s the Doormouse and Mickey.”

“Hey! That’s like the ones Dami-wait! Did you eat all of the chocolate!?” Felix cried out before feeling Jelly pat his head.

“No sweetheart, we haven’t opened up the chocolates yet. Would you like one?”

“Totally!” Felix made a grabby motion with his hands, immediately taking one of the squares Jelly offered. “What’s this one have?”

“It’s a s’mores flavored one.” Jelly replied before offering some to Lennie and Damian, the latter shaking his head no thank you before the box of chocolates was put away.

“So! What are your guys’ plans now?” Jelly asked the three kids, the brothers looking at each other before Margaux tugged at Jelly’s dress. Jelly turned to look down at her, seeing as Margaux motioned for her to come down. So, the former kneeled down before having Margaux whisper into her ear.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.~”

“Which one?” Felix poked his head into the conversation, watching Jelly stand up before looking over to the side where there was a good amount of line behind some victorian-esque fences.

“Margaux wants to go on the Haunted Mansion Holiday.” Jelly pointed to the building where a music box was heard. “You guys wanna go? It’s usually just a Haunted Mansion, but now it has characters from The Nightmare Before Christmas.”

“Let’s go! Let’s go right now! Right now!”

“Okay, just don’t run off.” Lennie advised as he trailed behind Felix, turning around to take a quietly excited Margaux’s hand. That was when he noticed that Damian had stayed behind. “You okay, bud?”

“Yeah. I just thought I could take a break.” Damian looked between Jelly and Lennie.

“Oh, sure. We can all take a break.”

“No, you guys go ahead. I can stay and sit outside.” Damian slightly shook his head, then hearing as Jelly approached him.

“Jelly, you go on ahead and take the kids. I’ll stay with Damian.”

“I can-”

“Nuh uh young man, you are not staying out here by yourself.” Jelly lifted a finger, then waving her hand at Lennie. “Just go ahead. I’m still full from eating and wouldn’t want the motions getting me nauseous.”

“If you say so.” Lennie chuckled as he waved to his wife, leading Felix and Margaux to the line of the Haunted Mansion Holiday.

“You...didn’t have to stay.” Damian turned to Jelly who shrugged. “You could have gone in with them. I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

“I know, but sometimes people need someone with them.” Jelly ruffled his hair. “Not that I don’t trust you, I had a few of my escapades when I was your age.”

“I wasn’t-”

“I know you weren’t. I honestly just wanted to spend some time with you Damian.” Jelly admitted. “Now, how about I buy you a pretzel of some popcorn? Maybe some fries?”

“I...a pretzel sounds nice.” Damian shrugged, then following Jelly as she took him to a stand with a variety of salty snacks.

Once purchased, Damian was handed the pretzel which he began to eat, still walking behind Jelly before feeling his free hand be held. In that moment, he froze, panicked. My god, he was shaking with wide eyes at the realization of his hand being held by Jelly’s.

“You okay?” Jelly stopped walking, looking behind at Damian who swallowed the bit of pretzel in his mouth as he stared down at the ground. “Damian?”

She blinked at Damian who nearly squeezed the life out of his Mickey-shaped pretzel, vibrating as his eyes refused to move from the ground.

“Damian? Are you okay?” Jelly let go of his hand, realizing that the boy’s face had become flushed. “Damian?”

“Mmm?” he finally lifted his head to look at Jelly, meeting up with her concerned expression. “Yes?”

“Are you...did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Damian quickly replied, the color ever so slowly draining from his face as he blinked quite awkwardly. “Cold.”

“You’re cold?” Jelly made a weird face at him, knowing that that clearly wasn’t the issue.. “Because you turned red. I don’t think that means it’s cold.”

“Hot?” Damian practically wheezed, his mind either a mixture of panic or absolutely blank. 

“How about we go into this store? Maybe that’ll help with your...temperature.” Jelly gave a bit of a chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood before being followed by a stiff Damian. “Look, there’s even a blanket in here. Do you want it?”

“No.” spoke Damian, finally clearing his throat. “N-No thank you...mémé…”

In an instant, Jelly turned around at the sound of that name. Knowing French, she already knew what it meant, and it no doubt delighted her on the inside despite being the word she did not want to be called. For some reason, it being in a different language just sounded better.

“Okay. That’s okay.” Jelly nodded before gasping and taking a nearby item, soon removing Damian’s gangster hat to replace it with what she had found. “What about this then?”

Damian, finally back to his normal self, felt Jelly’s hands on his shoulders as she turned him so he could face a mirror. Once he saw his reflection, he realized that he was wearing one of the popular Mickey Mouse ear hats.

“I...it’s…”

“Aw, you look so adorable Damian!” Jelly nearly squealed as she popped her head from behind to get a better look at the mirror. “Such a dashing, young man with Mickey ears.”

Once again, Damian felt as a heat rushed up to his cheeks. Thankfully, he hadn’t reacted the same as he did the last time when Jelly held his hand.

“It’s..it’s fine.” Damian slowly removed the hat, turning in place to hand it back to Jelly. “I don’t need it.”

“Maybe, but you want it.” Jelly spoke in a singing tone. “So I’m buying it.~”

“Wait-” Damian whipped around, seeing as Jelly stood in place and gave him a sly smile, so he decided not to protest it.

“Is there anything else you’d like? There’s this zip-up hoodie that had Jack Skellington on it. All black. It seems like something you’d wear.” Jelly made a motion with her hand so that Damian could follow as she brought him over to a section with Nightmare Before Christmas clothes. “Surprises me they don’t have any of the costumes, but then again, this is Disney.” 

“I mean, I’d rather get a Roger Rabbit shirt. With, Jessica.” Damian cleared his throat as he averted his gaze.

“Aw, shoot.” Jelly’s smile fell. “Damian, I’m sorry to say this, but they don’t sell Roger Rabbit merchandise here anymore.”

“I...oh.”

“I mean, we can definitely go on the ride later though. That’s a promise.” Jelly patted his shoulder as she grabbed one of the hoods she had mentioned before, trying one on in front of Damian to check for the right size. “Just as I promise to find you the perfect shirt when we get back home. I know people sell those things online and if I don’t find something, I’ll talk to my brother Pepper. He’s the real life Roger Rabbit and is bound to have something in his house.”

“I noticed.” Damian gave a nod. “And…”

Jelly’s eyes left the hood, glancing over at Damian.

“I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, kelpcake.”

“Kelpcake?” Damian lifted his head at Jelly.

“You’re my kelpcake.” Jelly ever so softly pinched Damian’s cheek. “Speaking of real life characters, did I ever tell you that your Uncle Davey is basically a real life Jack Skellington? That boy never noticed his feelings for your aunt, or her own of course.”

“You’re joking.” Damian squinted his eyes at Jelly who laughed with a shake of her head.

“Harper and Benjamin literally told him to his face after he saw Ally go on a date with another guy.”

“That’s...hilarious.” Damian looked around the store.

“Oh yeah, your aunt Lily even suggested that they dress up as them. They did one time, even had Peggy dressed as Zero. It was adorable.”

“Huh.” Damian walked behind Jelly as she looked at a section with plush toys from the Haunted Mansion and Nightmare Before Christmas. “Speaking of Peggy, and the axolotls, where did they come from?”

Jelly’s hands stopped searching through the plush toys as she froze for a moment, eventually turning to Damian with a smile.

“Well, we have a rehabilitation center, your grandpa and I, and we’re constantly on the lookout for new species or at least ones that need help.” Jelly resumed her searching. “The axolotls happened to be one of those discoveries.”

“From where?”

“The sea.” Jelly answered in a heartbeat. “We have some boats. Even your uncle Davey has a ship of his own. We’re constantly on the sea, and we just happened to come upon the axolotls. Mana and Kala at least, and then they eventually had their pups and on.”

“How long do they live?”

“That’s something we haven’t quite figured out just yet. Your grandpa has an idea though, it’s best you ask him.” Jelly faced Damian now, holding a funny looking plush that was meant to be a vampire teddy bear. “How do you like this little guy?”

“They look funny.” Damian poked the toy’s large and toothy grin.

“Great. They’re going home with you.” Jelly grinned before heading off to the cash register. “If there’s anything else you want, tell me now. Or you can tell me if anything catches your eye later.”

“Alright.” Damian now stood behind Jelly, watching as she paid for the three items she was getting just for him. “I wanted to ask, how are things with you and Pop?”

“Oh, as perfect as ever.” Jelly then received a bag with the merchandise, taking out the plush before handing it over to Damian who accepted it and took a better look at it. “I mean, we’re obviously here taking you and siblings to Disney and California Adventures. Other than that, just been working at my aquarium like usual, the park. Spend as much as time with all of you kids as much as possible, especially with Davey and Ally popping out more grandkids.”

“How many do they have now? I don’t see them too much, but I thought it was four.”

“Four indeed. Your aunt Ula and her husbands have six in total. Though Dahlia makes it feel like more.” Jelly laughed, taking notice of the funny face Damian made at the thought of his troublemaking cousin. “Speaking of your cousins, how have you been getting along with your cousins?”

“It’s going well.” Damian sighed at the thought of everyone he had met. All different from the other. “But Flora,”

“What about Flora?”

“She’s, really welcoming.” Damian squeezed his plush as she and Jelly continued walking, now finding an empty spot to sit at as it started to grow dark. “I really appreciate it. She tries to help me a lot and she’s very sweet.”

“Flora is like that, she just knows things.” Jelly placed a hand on Damian’s back, rubbing circles on it as he slightly shivered at the touch. “I’ve been meaning to ask, how are things with Basil?”

“Basil?” Damian rapidly brought his head up. “Well. It’s all well and okay.”

“Yeah? He’s not causing you any problems?”

“No, no. Of course not.”

“What?” a loud laugh was heard from behind the pair, both turning to see none other than Felix who was waving around a paper. “Basil always scares you!”

“Shut up Felix.” Damian glared at his brother.

“You guys are back.” Jelly felt as Felix slipped in between her and Damian, then seeing Lennie and Margaux stand in front of them. “How was it?”

“It was fun.” Margaux turned to Lennie who agreed. “And kind of cold.”

“They do that on purpose.” Jelly laughed before looking at Felix. “Sweetheart, don’t interrupt your brother, okay?”

“Okaaaay.” Felix slumped his body, but immediately jumped back into a straight pose to show off the paper he had received. “I got this though! Punpa asked for me and Margaux and we got Death Certificates!”

“That’s so nice.”

“Can we go again!? The ride got stuck like two times.”

“Yeah.” Margaux agreed before glancing over at Damian. “And Damian should come with us too.”

Jelly turned to Damian who remained quiet.

“Come on Damian, let’s go see Sandy Claws.” Jelly rubbed his shoulder after Felix hopped off his seat, Damian now looking at Jelly. “Then we can go on the Roger Rabbit ride right after. I promise.”

“I guess.” Damian nodded before he and Jelly stood up, soon turning red as Jelly linked her arm with his.

“But you have to promise to sit in the Doombuggie with your mémé.” Jelly smiled, then giggling as Damian gave a shaky nod while squeezing his vampire teddy bear.

[that-bi-bliophile]

So my friends and I have an ongoing collection of quotes that my crazy math teacher has said. We had our last math class today so I felt it would be a good time to share this. (I added some annotations so that it makes more sense to people who weren’t there)

                                                 Quotes by Mr. G

                                             -An Ongoing Project-

“Grizzly bear will never get reindeer, correct?”

“Health is good”

“I don’t know what planet you are from”

“Hey, build pyramids!”

“And Humperdink will be sitting at his lonely table” (I looked it up and there’s a song called Lonely Table by Engelbert Humperdinck)

“Power to the power, power to the people.”

“I like that you laugh, it means you are still alive”

“Don’t laugh because people around you are shaking.”

“Someone is laughing, it is not supposed to be like that.”

“You are so engaged, that makes you 19”

“I appreciate if barricades are taken off your desk onto the floor.”

“And fish becomes shark and eats copies.”

“Also, cover your tails”

During an earthquake drill: “Take these drills seriously�� -Mr. Asdfghjkl’, “Also, take seriously mathematics” -Mr. G

“I thought it is a box”

“Lice, only in your brain”

“Welcome again to the same stream, but water is different.”

“No, there is no Mr. G.”

“Yes, Mr. G is here”

“Why are you sitting?”

“I am concerned about your grade, and your knowledge. Mainly your knowledge.”

“By the way, I like tables.”

“About geometry and your life.”

“I don’t know what you are digging”

“Kids; too many”

“Look China, look China, look China”

“What information shall we withdraw from China?”

“Give me two points India!” (These last three were from a thing we did graphing country populations by the way)

“Specifically in the mountains.”

“I am driving, Maxime, do you understand?”

“He is doing minimum, it is food for thoughts.”

“He is also a jumper, will you share what you see in the other world?”

“Mr. G often goes tangentially.”

“Ellie chose and very wisely!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, our train is approaching, silence, tunnel, please, or else explosion.”

“Goat leg”

“I will now burst with my anger.”

“Mr. G is standing on his head now.”

“Homework is a bridge.”

“Anita was a fox and Basilio lost his money: golden bars.”

“I feed you, you are a shark and sharks are biting everything.”

“Thank you for stretching, maybe you have the right.”

“Your teacher is Mr. G, I know him.”

“Don’t be scared, but some of you didn’t learn and you are going to suffer.”

“You are the first representative of a younger generation.”

“I am not poisoning you.”

“I am entertaining you. It is the afternoon.”

“Look at their information, it’s terrible!”

“Where comes two? Oh! From the ceiling!”

“I made a mistake, wait, did I?”

“They forbid me to go to school, they say they will arrest me.” (During quarantine)

“Stop with attention span, whatever happened, don’t pay attention.”

“Go, go, go, go, go, go!”

“Anastasiya, did you learn your fingernails very nicely?”

“We are all working, I don’t know what republic you are.”

“No big goose.”

“Now we have geese in the water, looking something.”

“It’s not a pack of wolves, okay?”

“It’s called an undisciplined guy.”

“It came because we were catching all big fish”

“Algebra: without algebra there is nothing in life.”

“You are like fish”

“Your brain will grow like a cabbage”

“O.M.G. Our mutual goal”

“Tongue rolling attitude”

“A gebra named al”

 “Knowledge shouldn’t be soft”

“Hands up, how many hands do you have?” Max says, “10.” (We have a theory that he’s an alien, he’s also said things like “blonde eyed, blue haired”)

“Only happy people watch a clock, because they want to extend their happiness.”

“Relax, feel in my classroom, at home.”

“Someone is running water.”

“In U.S. you have freedom and liberty” (Mr. G is talking about not finding the discriminant before solving.)

“Bacon, bacon, bacon, bacon, bacon, where is my bacon.”

“Alexa, turn off, Alexa will you turn off your music?” (Caused several other people’s Alexa’s to turn on over Google Meets)

“Dying, just relax guys, I’m not dying.”

“Tilda likes her boys like she likes her numbers, positive.”

“What’s up is here.”

CMC: “A score of 14 and over should be commended.”

Mr. G: “A score of 14 and over shouldn’t be commended in this classroom.”

(He told math team he expected us to get at least 26)

“Relley, you are number 7”

“Two minutes! It is too much time!”

“Sixth graders are like rabbits. They are always twitching, and each time you turn around there are more of them.”

“Only Mr. G can put flesh and blood into these skeletons.”

“In Ukraine, they call it the big bear, but here, you call it the big diaper.” (He meant the big dipper)

“Boo, did you do your homework?!” (We have a great recording of this one. We did it for our Spooky Room™ in advisory because his granddaughter is in my advisory)

“Sing the song!” (Then he ‘sings’ the quadratic formula on like one note)

“The textbook is your bible.”

“Shake your heads!”

“‘Good Morning!’ said Bilbo, ‘What do you mean?’ he said. ‘Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good one?’”

“Alessandra, you need a life.” (This was really odd for him to say a student shouldn’t just spend all their time on mathematics, a different teacher ran out of the room to tell people @ohnoimfangirlingagain)

“Tilda, you are good, not great, but good.”

“You are the best of the best.”

“You now owe me a Ritz box.”

“Any questions” -Mr. G, “Nope” -Student, “Okay, also not good because there should be questions”-Mr. G

“Like a magic wand.”

“Is anyone falling apart, is anyone under the table?”

“I can see behind the sofa, is anyone in the orchard, picking fruit?”

“Sending them out of the boundaries of the United States, oops out of the equation.”

“You are great specialist at this one.”

“Not president of the united states, but candidate for the equation”

“You are very good citizen of BPC school.”

“Guys tell me, difficult? Difficult in training or easy in battle taking test.”

“Extraneous root is like outside fish that we throw back to the sea because it is not the fish.” (One of my favorites. I’m making it bold so that it’s more visible)

“Relax, go under sofa or whatever is best place for you.”

“ZPP, not Zina.”

“Off we start”

“Alexa, I am not asking you, switch off, Alexa, Alexa, thank you.”

“Tangent tangent tangent secant secant secant secant tangent”

“You need to respond, it is why police respond.”

“Its been one minute, I will count one minute from our time.”

“He is doing simultaneously Step 1 and Step 2! I love you!”

*leaning in and whispering into the computer, so just one student will hear* “Can you hear me? Psst can you hear me? Turn in your homework!”

“Gabby, open your face.”

“You have 9 minutes to relax.”

"Examples, they are clear? Good color?"

"Who is joining shout?"

“Everything: Mr. G is doing everything thoroughly, digging, digging, digging. Where is digging?”

“Coming to this minus, says, ‘Hello!’.”

“The secret is easy: you don't do any stupid things.”

“I will introduce the basic things, and skeleton.”

“Margaux, show me your face. I have forgot already in two months.”

“Drink coffee, oops, tea... talk to your dog... make your cat happy... keep energy up.”

"Just take in your bloodstream"

“Why are you running in orchard, picking wegetables.”

“In many countries. In Ukraine, we had Chernobyl and stay at home, in Africa, we had disease outbreak, no tvs. Now. I am good at distance learning.” (He’s from Ukraine and also taught in Africa)

“See they are asking you? Did you get four? If you didn’t get four, you have a problem?”

“I know, I know, but they are more mistakes here, they are playing tricks, they are wrong.”

“Grudge on you, very big grudge on you.”

“You see, I am covering.”

“Don’t jump to conclusion, good teams don’t jump to conclusion. Now jump to conclusion.”

Anastasiya “Play ocean sounds for one hour.” Mr. G “You have to go somewhere?”

Cole plays music, Mr. G says “Not funny.”

“Seventh grade are all five, five musketeers.”

“We are 15 already which means someone else is here”

“So far, I am boxing you.”

“Herrings are little fish that Russians love, not Ukranians.” 

“In Zambia there are potholes in the road. So I would fill them in with gravel. Now we are going to do that with your knowledge.”

“Cinderella had to get peas from sand. And she shook the blanket. Use BUCK.” (He often tells us to shake our heads)

“Please guys, open your faces.”

“You are like little red riding hood: lost.”

“To my surprise, it is time to start.”

“Now it is time to collect stones.”

“What will you do in Europe?”

“I don't like that it’s excluded, because 2 will feel excluded.”

“Infinite algebra 1”

“I am back to discuss with you our problems.”

“What is secret about? You are canceling.”

“It’s like I am merging to highway.”

“Welcome to Ukraine, my friends.”

“I have plans for you, but you will always change plans.”

“Wow, it’s attacking me from all sides! Zina in the kitchen...”

“It's like avalanche or cabbage growing, I hope paper cabbage is still growing full of your energy.”

“Be cute enough to see.”

“Give me volume! Volume, volume, volume, volume, volume!”

“I wasn’t running with you… you know, fast?”

“Three trees doesn’t make woods.” (But in Chinese two do, just saying)

“So far you are free.”

“Is there anyone falling apart, under the table, please come out. I see you.”

“What should I say now? That it is too much work, sorry.”

“The last is seesaw problem. I am joking, I don’t know if I will show you today seesaw.”

“And I will be watching you now.”

“Do you want to talk about life? We are talking about life.”

"Don't touch 7th graders, they are like a hive of bees, you never know, they will bite you."

“You are late for the date with Mr. G.”

“Someone wants to join, no.”

“Someone is just troubling us.”

“Someone is just breaking my computer.”

“There is no problem, it is my invention.” 

I will miss his class a lot.

[grotesquegabby]

I once again apologize because I'm pretty sure this is also a lot to ask X3 What would Cordie's future kiddos think of their cousins? :3 And only if you want, their other possible aunt and uncles? :D I of course mean Davey and Ula's spouses heheh

oh you are perfectly alright huehue~ uwu here we go~

@post-itpenny some more of yours are here as well~

Margaux: the one with much love but slight fear

Harper - This man makes her nervous. Hes beautiful but his expression scares me. Need to assess if he is actually safe to be around.

Penelope - This is mommas best friend! Clearly she can be trusted!

Amaranthus- mysterious lady is...mysterious. Is she..a witch? Getting witch vibes so shed be nervous around Amaranthus to start but....will learn to like her in time. uwu

Maggie - pretty lady reminds me of a cardinal.

Billy - Hes a pretty man. business business business is what comes to mind. This is the witches dad, is he a witch too. x3

Atlas - what? What! *Points at his head* does he wear those all the time! Can I wear kitty ears then? view him as this brave guy who goes around being himself no matter where he is.

Schrader - *Dreamy eyes as she stares at him* hes like a prince

Ally - Cute! is the first word that comes to mind.

Rory - will honestly be creeped out by Rory, just a feeling. Something aint right there. That smile makes her nervous.

Clara - a living doll, she is quite pretty. looks delicate like she could break like a porcelain doll, would worry since shes known to worry about such things.

Calliope -  oooh, shes pretty. She looks so nice, and Momma speaks highly of her for advice.

Cuckoo -  They are so kind looking. Will instantly trust Cuckoo upon meeting them.

Bingo - calm, yes perfect. uwu

Carney - a wild one, would be too shy to want to stick around Carney but if Ally was with him shed feel more comfortable. uwu shes just not a full of energy type of person

Orion and Hunter - due to the feeling both of them give her. Kind of creep her out a bit. Its the smile again.

Dante - This is a cool guy, I think my big brothers would like him a lot.

Robyn and Rayden - did these two together cause Margaux for a bit might  think theres only one of them for a bit till she finds them both together x3 she knows abut twins but itll be funny to see I thought x3 But she does like them they seem like fun people to her~

Ace - woah hes so big and strong looking.  I bet he can pick up everything. Maybe even a dinosaur, or a house.

Ferry - Is she a fairy? she might follow her around to see if she does magick. Will find out shes married to the strong man. Its a match made in heaven~

James - This is a nice man, she would love to spend time with James. Hes clearly so nice and shed adore him.

Magpie - that is a fun lady. colors, glowing and more.

Juno - She seems cool and Momma seems to like her. So she must be alright.

Vega - shes so wonderful, and kind. she bakes too. fast friends with this woman due to her sweet tooth.

Lyra - would be a bit nervous around Lyra but get over it soon enough. As Im sure Lyra would be welcoming to her.

Peregrine - nervous, might be scared of him.

Joseph -another nice man uwu this is the dad of the guy who wears antlers all day long.

Felix: The one with even more questions than before!

Harper - whys your face like that. Are you wearing makeup? Why are you wearing makeup? Are those feathers in your hair? Thats a bold fashion statement dont you think? Why do your eyes look like that?

Penelope - Miss Cordelia told me you guys used to be superheros. Are you still a superhero? Do you have super powers? Miss Cordelia said I shouldnt tell anyone else about it. Can I be a super hero too!?

Amaranthus - Are you a witch? do you eat kids? ooooh, I guess that is just fairytales. Are you one of those goth people then?

Maggie - Will notice the feathers on her and instantly are you an angel? Are you someones guardian angel? If he finds out she can see into the future ooh man prepare for lots of quesitons about it and of course Felix will start to worry and wonder if things will work out. He likes Cordelia and loves all of his new family he wont want to leave it anytime soon uwu so he might look to Maggie for some reassurance

Billy - will be transfixed by Billys eyes, with the two colors. Hes never seen it before so itll be interesting but Hes going to wonder if Billys a demon x3 and just flat out say it in front of people.

Atlas - Deerman! Do your antlers fall off like regular deer? Do you have hooves? No, awe that would have been so cool. I think it’d be cool to be part animal? Are you secretly part animal? like...*whispers* a deer superhero? *dreamy eyes* You are married to a very pretty lady.

Schrader - You are also married to a pretty lady~ uwu and he plays music! Will learn sign language so he can talk to Schrader better uwu

Ally - you are super cute! tells her this upon meeting her. just all :3

Rory - He doesnt understand why anyones nervous around this guy, they seem so nice. Look at that smile! :D so welcoming

Clara - a pretty lady who is more than meets the eye. He bets!  Plus she made these lovely toys for him and his sister so how bad could she possibly be?

Calliope - mixed feelings for Calliope. She seems really nice but his brother seems to think other wise.

Cuckoo - The Circus owner is a wonderful person and seeing that his brother would trust him right away He would as well uwu

Bingo - would love to catch her at roller derby competitions.

Carney - Wild one! Perfect for Felix, who has lots of energy. Cordelia wondering if Carney would like to babysit at least for Felix who wanted her to ask. x3

Orion and Hunter - wouldn’t have too much of an opinion on them yet

Dante - a cool guy who played in a band. are you still in the band? What do you play? how

Robyn and Rayden - would just like his sister get fooled as well to start x3 and then laugh upon realizing. Would think these two are cool as heck and man if one doesnt want to do something....the other could do it in their place. Have you two done that he wonders?

Ace - *flexs his little muscles* x3 Will want Ace to flex his muscles too. see if he can lift him, of course Ace can uwu but Felix just wants to be lifted~

Ferry - a nice lady who makes wonderful tarts and treats~<3 (- o.o-)

James - Miss Cordelia has talked about this nice man. And that he is a good family friend that the kids can go too uwu

Magpie -  Would love to go to her shows. This is a fun lady, look at her she is a master magician.

Juno - Lady of fire! mostly due to her fiery spirit. Will definitely want to hang out with her.

Vega - a very nice woman uwu mom of the deerman. Will ask if shes an animal person too. If he gets a good answer hell be excited x3

Lyra - not too much of an opinion yet

Peregrine - o3o why are you so grumpy looking? x3

Joseph -would seem nice enough uwu hes the dad of the deerman.

Damian: The one who pretends not to care

Harper - What the hell...why is he so...beautiful!

Penelope - She seems pretty nice. Clearly Cordelia’s bestie. can see why these two would get along so well.

Amaranthus - Digs the outfit.

Maggie - She seems nice

Billy - He can see getting along with this guy.

Atlas - Whats going on? Why are you wearing antlers? Whatever floats your boat. So your married to Cordelias big sister

Schrader -  Really cool guy, would love to hang out with Schrader.  Your also married to Cordelias big sister?

Ally - She seems very sweet and kind. And somewhat timid.

Rory - This dude here makes me....nervous not sure why they do.

Clara - She seems nice enough. Probably volunteers at homeless shelters which isn’t a bad thing no she just looks like she would.

Calliope - Now this woman here....is not...human. Theres just no way. Will he say this out loud? no.... x3

Cuckoo - Thinks Cuckoo is cool, they own a circus. Thats one of the coolest things to him.

Bingo - very serious are you and the tall guy...together? Thats not a bad thing no he just thinks they would fit together. Not that Damian is claiming to be a match maker no way x3 But hes going to find out about her roller durby and oof Shes going to be one of the coolest girls he knows!

Carney - Not too much of an opinion for him

Orion and Hunter - together they make him weary x3 but he does find them pretty neat. If they are

Dante - Definitely thinks Dante is a cool guy, he might get a reaction out of Damian thats eager and excited not annoyed. uwu

Robyn and Rayden - these guys are friends with Dante. And meeting them is going to be cool, imagine the pranks you can play as identical twins~

Ace - might be slightly intimidated by him but would pretend not to be x3

Ferry - She seems very sweet, and can see Ace and her dynamic really working out.

James - a genuinely nice person. He feels a connection to him for a reason.

Magpie - really colorful and fun. Can see why his sister would like her.

Juno - Hed definitely like her. Shes pretty cool, would enjoy hangning out with her.

Vega - same feeling as Lyra, more than meets the eye. He bets she is secretly a prankster.

Lyra - seems pretty cool, he has a feeliong about her that shes more than meets the eye.

Peregrine - I feel these two would just stare at each other or glare from across the room. x3

Joseph -Seems nice enough

I hope these are alright uwu

[daddiesdrarryy]

Dinner for Two - Drarry

Summary: “I don’t believe in fate or destiny or whatever you said that’s going to happen to me today, Luna, and have you or Ginny seen Pansy?”

“We haven’t seen her since morning, but Draco, the Wrackspurts told me-…” Luna replied

“I’m at the restaurant now, I’ll call you later, don’t worry, I’ll call you, promise, bye Luna”

Draco doesn't believe in fate, but not until Pansy bailed on him and he met Potter again did he actually believe in it now.

Word count: 6821

Read here on ao3

A gift for @drarry-dreams uwu

____________________________

“I don’t believe in fate or destiny or whatever you said that’s going to happen to me today, Luna, and have you or Ginny seen Pansy?” Draco talked to his phone while running under the heavy rain, luckily he has got his charm on

 “We haven’t seen her since morning, but Draco, the Wrackspurts told me-…” Luna replied

 “I’m at the restaurant now, I’ll call you later, don’t worry, I’ll call you, promise, bye Luna” He reassured her, he would call her later, but not right now, because he was late

  “Hi, is my table ready?” Draco rushed in the restaurant as soon as he arrived there, his long hair was disheveled even though it was braided carefully, Luna did it, but he didn’t rush here because of the rain, he ran here because he was late to dinner with Pansy, it was their annual dinner every month to gossip about their lives, he didn’t remember how or when it started but he only knew that they still do it until now, this month Draco had found a new restaurant nearby, it took them ages to book a spot here, it got popular so quickly, the restaurant was famous for its steak and wine, and of course Draco has to have a taste of that

 “What’s your name, sir?” The small blonde girl asked him

 “It’s under the name Draco, Draco Malfoy” He said and watched the receptionist look for his name

 “Ah yes, it’s here, table for two”

 “Yes, that’s me” Draco smiled brightly and was about to step in but the receptionist stopped him

 “I’m sorry, we can’t let you sit down if your date isn’t here” The girl said and Draco gaped at her

 “What do you mean? I mean she will be here soon, and she’s not my date”

 “We’ll take you to your table once your date is here” The girl added “Our restaurant is very crowded so we can’t let you in if—…”

 “Yeah, I know, if my stupid date hasn’t arrived yet” He rolled his eyes, fine, Pansy could be considered as his date anyway, he couldn’t care less, he turned around, looking for his stupid friend, Pansy always liked to make an entrance, but they agreed they would be here at 8, now it was half past 8 and Draco hasn’t seen her yet, the cow.

      *

      “So my friend has to be here or else I won’t get in the restaurant at all?” He approached the receptionist again after five minutes, Pansy still hasn’t arrived and he was getting hungry, he hasn’t eaten all day so he could try the steak here and hell he was hungry he could eat a dragon, not that he would, but he could

 “Yes, sir, she has to be here”

 “Oh, come on, what difference does it make if you get a seat for me now or when my date gets here?”

 “Because we never have one person sitting at a table for two, sir, so when your date is here, I can find you a table” The girl explained and Draco groaned, walking away to the bar outside

 “Okay so I only need one person” Draco pulled his phone out as soon as it buzzed, Pansy was calling him

 “Pansy you cow” He snapped into his phone once he answered

 “I am so so so sorry” Pansy said “But look, I met Granger at the library today”

 “Granger? Wait, you were at the library?” He gasped “So you ditched me, your best friend, to go on a date with the one you had a crush on since Hogwarts?”

 “I’m sorry, but we bumped into each other and we talked and she agreed to go on a date with me in a few minutes, she’s like this hot lesbian nerd, Draco. Do you know how rare that is?”

 “Of course I know, I’m the hot gay nerd, Pansy” He snapped “So what now? I’ve been waiting months to eat in this restaurant”

 “I’m sorry, can I take a rain check? We can do it next time! Please? I’m so sorry, you can call Blaise or Theo” Pansy pleaded through the phone

 Draco groaned, walked through the crowd “You owe me, Pansy. And why the hell is this place so crowded?” He muttered and crashed into someone on his way through

 “Sorry sorry” He said and looked at the person he hit “Potter”

 “Potter? As in Harry Potter?” Pansy squeaked through the phone

 “Malfoy” Potter’s face was as shocked as Draco’s, both of them stood there staring at each other “What are you doing here?”

 “Pansy, I’ll have to call you back” He said and ended the call, he shoved the phone back in his pocket “What are you doing here?” Draco asked back and realised that the opportunity was representing itself in front of Draco’s eyes, his stomach growling at the thought of him finally getting to eat the steaks here “Potter, are you alone?”

 “I guess, but it’s because I’m focusing on my job and—…”

 “Shut up and hold my hand” Draco said and immediately intertwined their hands together without even thinking, he dragged Potter to the maitre d’s table and smiled

 “Hi, my date is here, can I have my table now?”

 “Yes, sir” The girl gaped a bit and led the both of them to their table

 “Malfoy”

 “Shush” He snapped and dragged Potter to their table, once they were seated there, Draco sighed out in relief

 “Er, Malfoy—…”

 “Oh, right, don’t worry, this is my treat” Draco offered “It’s for being my date”

 “Date?” Potter’s eyes widened a bit

 “Well, Pansy bailed on me to go with your friend, so it’s partly your fault too”

 “What?” Potter asked “Wait, Parkinson went with Hermione?”

 “Yeah, on a date, probably right now, and I’ve been waiting for ages to eat in this restaurant” He went on “And I will not let Pansy ruins my spot here, so, can you stay throughout the meal with me, Potter?” He pleaded with his puppy eyes

 “Er…I guess”

 “Oh god, thank you, and I know we haven’t been on the best term over the years but well, this could be a start, you know” Draco paused as soon as the waiter arrived

 “Welcome to Éclairage, my name is Jacob and I’ll be your server tonight. Are you ready to order, sir?”

 “Yes, thank you” He smiled gently and skimmed through the menu “For starter, I’d like some tomato soup, and for the main course, I’d like to try your restaurant’s famous steak, for dessert I think I’m going with the chocolate lava cake” He finally stopped and realised he just sounded like a hungry whale, ordering without considering the person in front of him, he chuckled a bit “Oh Potter, where are my manners? I’m so sorry, please, order something too”

 “Just the usual, Jacob” Potter said gently to the waiter

 “And can I get you two something to drink, sir?”

 “A bottle of Chateau Margaux 1787, and that’ll be all, thank you Jacob” Potter said and Draco’s mouth went slack, that was one of the most expensive red wine ever, he only served that to his friends on special occasion, but Potter…the pretentious git

 “Yes, Mr. Potter” The waiter nodded “I’ll be right back with your drinks” Then he walked away

 “Right, I should have known”

 “What?”

 “Famous Harry Potter” Draco smirked “Anywhere you go, people recognise you”

 “Well, it’s probably because—…”

 “And you must have gone here a lot right? Seems so” Draco crossed his arms over his chest and smiled “I’m having dinner with the big, mighty Harry Potter, I bet there’ll be an article tomorrow”

 “There will, but I don’t read the Daily Prophet anymore” Potter ran his hand through his messy hair and Draco’s breath caught, he coughed and continued

 “So, how’s the Auror life treating you, Potter?”

 “I actually quit being an Auror a year ago”

 “What? Really?” Draco leaned forward as he was shocked, he was in total shocked, Potter would actually quit being an Auror?

 “Yeah, being an Auror is quite…dangerous”

 “That’s weird coming from your mouth” Draco snorted

 “But how about you, what are you doing? I know Ron and Blaise are a couple now but Ron rarely tells me about anything except for how good of a kisser Blaise is” Potter laughed, showing his white teeth

 “You cannot imagine how many time Pansy and I had to shut Blaise up from talking about Ron too much, we basically banned him from saying Ron’s name in our house now” Draco ranted “And oh, I’m…the owner of a bookshop, it’s open for two years now”

 “That’s…amazing, you’ve always been a nerd” Potter replied

 “Sod off Potter” He snorted “What can I say, after being a Healer and seeing you too much at St. Mungo, I had to quit” He shrugged and crossed his legs

      *

       “Oh my god I’m so full” Draco took the last few bites of his steak and took a sip from his wine glass, no wonder the restaurant was famous for it, the food and the wine were bloody divine, they have been talking about their Eighth year, after the war, and normal stuff about their friends, Draco felt like it was mostly him talking, Potter was rather quiet today and he just looked at Draco eating, which was weird

 “You like it?”

 “I love it, Potter, I love it so much I could marry it” Draco moaned while chewing on the last piece of steak “God it’s so good” He kept complimenting the food and Potter chuckled “What?”

 “Nothing, you just look…quite adorable” Potter answered and Draco felt himself getting flustered by the git’s words

 “What? Shut up”

 “It’s true” Potter laughed again “You’ve always look adorable while eating, if I remember correctly”

 “You watched me?” Draco gasped, how the hell did the prat knew how Draco looked while eating?

 “Well, we did spend six years watching each other across the hall” Potter looked at him, his eyes seemed like they were hiding something…something Draco couldn’t figure out, he only knew that when those green eyes looked at him, it also stared into his soul, waking up the things he wanted to hide most…his long lost feelings for the bloody war hero

 “I-I did not spend my years watching you eat, Potter” He tried to protest but it was just failing, he knew exactly how Potter eat his food, how he was protective of his food if anyone takes some from him, how he loves treacle tarts, and how he always eats food separately, never smashed together, it was weird, Draco has always wanted to ask him why, but no time for that

 “Really? Because I remember clearly everyday when I was eating my favourite dessert, pumpkin pie, I always see you looking at me and then looked away”

 “That’s not true, your favourite dessert is treacle tart” Draco protested and immediately realised what he did as soon as Potter smiled brightly again at him

 “So it’s true”

 “Whatever, Potter, at least I did not have a crush on you or whatsoever”

 “I never mention anything about you crushing on me” Potter grinned again, and Draco felt his cheeks heating up “Did you?”

 “I—…shut up” He took another sip of wine and looked away

 “Want to play truth or dare?” Potter suddenly asked

 “Why? We’re in a restaurant”

 “For fun” Potter shrugged “Unless you’re too afraid to do it”

 “Don’t underestimate me, Potter, try me”

 “Alright, truth or dare?”

 “Truth” Draco proudly replied

 “What do you think of me?”

 “Dare” Draco flushed and switched the option

 “Okay, I dare you to say what you think of me” Potter gave him a big grin

 “You git, you tricked me” Draco frowned

 “Come on, it’s an easy one” Potter nagged him

 “Fine, I guess…you’re okay, you’re an idiot most of the time, but other times, you’re okay” He pouted “Is it my turn now?”

 “Sure, go ahead”

 “Truth or dare?”

 “Dare”

 “Ah, should have expected that from a Gryffindor” Draco chuckled and looked at Potter up and down, he was wearing a dark blue suit, it was possibly tailored and he looked dashing in it as well, wait…Potter? And dashing? No way, Draco shook the thought off instantly “Hmm, I dare you to…kiss the hottest person here” He looked around “Do you need me to find one for you? Look, that waitress there is quite hot”

 “I don’t think I swing that way anymore” Potter gave him a devilish smile and Draco’s lower part was awakened. Now? Seriously? He slapped himself mentally for getting excited by what Potter said that fast

 “You’re…oh my god” Draco said and looked around the restaurant one more time, he shrugged when he couldn’t find anyone hot for Potter to make out with “Too bad, there’s no man here as hot as me, as far as I can tell”

 “So you’re saying I should kiss you?”

 “What? No! Nonsense” Draco blushed again and reached for the wine bottle to pour himself more wine, avoiding Potter’s eyes at the same time

 “I’m a Gryffindor, you know, I won’t back out from a dare” Potter told him

 “Wait, I could find someone hotter for you” Draco searched frantically for anyone, anyone that might look hotter than him, but unfortunately, it was just a lot of old men and men that were not as attractive as Draco, and the blonde wasn’t even exaggerating

 “It’s no use, you’re the hottest here” Potter shrugged and the waiter arrived with their desserts, which Draco sighed out in relief, finally something for him to distract Potter from

 “Ooh desserts, it looks so good” Draco said and started eating, he could feel Potter’s eyes on him, the firm gaze roaming over his body, but he wouldn’t look up at the git, he couldn’t even if he wanted to, the intense gaze was burning him

 “Eat, Potter, stop staring at me” He cleared his throat and heard Potter chuckled, then he could see Potter started eating his chocolate mousse from the corner of his eyes.

 “God this piece of cake is so good” He moaned softly as he ate the marvellous cake. How could anyone make food this good? He could stay in this restaurant forever

 “You’ve always has a sweet tooth” Potter continued eating

 “What? How—…”

 “Your mother used to send you sweets all the time” This time Draco finally looked up at Potter once again, their eyes locked and the first thing Draco noticed was that Potter has chocolate on the corner of his mouth

 “Potter” He called and pointed to his own lips “You have…”

 “What? Do I have chocolate on my lips?” Potter said and stuck his tongue out to lick it but it just made the chocolate sauce went everywhere on the corner of his mouth

 “No, it’s…” He tried to demonstrate for Potter again but the git still couldn’t take it, Draco huffed and extended his arm across the table “Are you playing dumb or are you actually dumb, Potter?” He used his thumb to wipe the chocolate off but his movement stopped as soon as he felt Potter’s eyes on him again, he stared at the prat and his mouth opened slightly, he couldn’t breath all of a sudden. When did Potter look so charming? But it wasn’t like he was never charming, Potter did have his charms. Pansy had forced the blonde to admit that in Eighth Year, when Potter took off his wet shirt when a few Second Year students hit him with a water balloon on a hot day, Draco had drooled so much Pansy had to Accio a mop to clean it, not literally of course but she always exaggerated the story every time she mentioned it again just to tease Draco. Draco shook off the memory as he realised what was going on, his thumb was on Potter’s lips now and he has never seen Potter this close ever since the day he was brought back to the Manor during the war, he remembered that day clearly, of course he knew that was Potter, he just didn’t…want the git to die.

 “You look cute when you’re thinking” The voice brought him back to reality once again and he stuttered

 “W-what? I wasn’t…it’s just…shut up” He was about to retreat his hand when Potter caught him by the wrist, he jolted at the touch, Potter’s skin felt so hot. Was the git having a fever or was Draco imagining it all? Probably the second he reckoned

 “Is it over yet?”

 “What? Oh…yeah, the chocolate is all clear now” He blushed and got back on his chair, he cleared his throat and sipped on his wine “Well, I guess this is it” He wiped his mouth with the napkin and called Jacob, the waiter to prepare to pay for the meal

 “Can I have the check, please?” He asked nicely and the waiter nodded, giving him the bill

 “Just put it on my tab, Jacob” Potter said and the waiter nodded

 “Woah woah woah” He intervened and stared at Potter with wide eyes “Potter, I told you I’ll pay for this meal”

 “Yeah, I know, but—…”

 “And I will pay for this meal” He insisted “Don’t pity me, Potter, I still have money”

 “It’s not about money, Draco” Potter chuckled and the blonde didn’t know how to react, the fact that Potter just called him by his first name, and not his last, which was surprising, because that has never happened before, and Draco was shocked, he was in utter shock

 “Did you just…”

 “Call you Draco?” Potter smiled at him “I think it’s time we put the past behind us, right? Let me pay for the bill, I’m—…”

 “I don’t care that you’re the big and mighty Harry Potter, Potter” He snapped at the man in front of him “I made a promise and I will keep it, now Jacob, take my money” He looked at the confused waiter and nodded “I will pay”

 “Jacob, I’ll pay, go back to the kitchen” Potter told the waiter and he nodded, walking away

 “Potter!” He turned back and glared at the pretentious git in front of him “I can too pay for the meal”

 “Draco, listen—…”

 “No, I will not listen to you, Potter, you’ve been weird all night with the flirting and the looking and the staring and the chocolate and the stupid hair of yours” He babbled “You shut your sexy lips”

 “My what lips?” Potter began chuckling

 “Your…your silly lips, you and-and your silly lips” Draco tried to fix it but it was no use, Potter was hugging his stomach and laughing like ana idiot he was

 “Potter, stop laughing at me” He ordered and Potter finally stopped

 “Draco, are you sure I’m the only one flirting here?”

 “What? Preposterous” He protested “How could you—I would never, I—…you shut up and let me pay the bloody bill”

 “Draco—…”

 “Mr. Potter, Mrs. Tampleton is here and she wants to meet you” One of the waitress approached their table and cut Potter’s words off

 “Oh, alright, wait for me” Potter told Draco and stood up to walk to the table near the window, where a couple of old people were sitting at, Potter was laughing at an old woman in a fancy purple dress that Draco assumed was Mrs. Tampleton, next to her was an old man that was possibly her husband, Draco stared at how bright Potter’s smile was, he could light up the whole room, hell, even the whole street, Draco has always been swooned over by the bloody smile, he has to admit so. He couldn’t help thinking that this dinner with Potter could be a start of something new, probably a friendship, it was the only thing Draco wanted from Potter from the beginning, from the moment he saw him. From the boy who wore a baggy shirt that was too big for him, to a war hero at a young age, to a charming man in a suit now, and Draco’s heart was beating faster each second, because Potter was walking back to their table now, and he kept smiling at the blonde

 “Mrs. Tampleton? I haven’t seen her since my father’s party when I was seven, she still looks the same” He asked once Potter sat down again

 “Yeah, she wants to meet the owner of the restaurant” Potter shrugged and Draco nodded

 Wait a minute, what?

 “What?” He looked up at Potter, who was grinning at him “Wait…”

 “I can’t believe you didn’t know that” Potter chuckled and sipped on his wine

 “How the hell am I supposed to know that you are the owner of this restaurant?”

 “Well, I kept trying to tell you, but you cut me off every time” The git shrugged and Draco gasped

 “That’s why you pay for the bill, and that’s why the waiter and the receptionist know you”

 “Yeah” Potter nodded

 “Oh my god” Draco gasped again “Éclairage! It’s French for ‘lighting’, oh my god”

 “Yeah, Luna thought of the name” Potter replied “When I quit being an Auror, I started cooking, and I got good at it, then one day Ron said I should open a restaurant while he was eating my steak” Potter smiled, and Draco saw Potter’s small dimple on his left cheek, he blushed “Then I did…open a restaurant, I just didn’t want to reveal my name to many people, Mrs. Tampleton was my first one to eat here, she loved it so much that she has been my special guest ever since” Potter added “I’m surprised you didn’t realise earlier, I thought Blaise would mention it”

 “Yeah I also force him not to tell anything about you when he’s at my house” Draco sighed “I can’t believe you’re the bloody owner”

 “But it’s a good thing” Potter suggested “You can eat here anytime now”

 “Potter, we’re not even friends”

 “We aren’t?”

 “Well…I don’t know”

 “What are we?” Potter’s eyes twinkled “Arch enemies? School rivals? Boyfriends? Acquaintances?”

 “What’s that in the middle?” Draco almost choked on his own spit when he heard those words coming out of Potter’s mouth

 “School rivals?” Potter smiled from ear to ear, Draco glared at him and stood up

 “Well, it’s quite late, I have to go” He pushed the chair back and faked a cough, trying his best to get out of the embarrassing situation

 “Wait, I’ll walk with you” Potter called and Draco stood frozen on his spot, mumbling a curse word

 “Fine, but do try to keep up, Potter” He said and heard Potter snorted

 “I’m now taller than you, you know” He walked side by side with Potter and realised the hard truth, Potter did get taller, he was probably five or six inches taller than Draco now, the bloody prat, Draco murmured in his head. When they reached the door, Potter graciously opened it for Draco and the blonde’s cheeks went pink

 “What a gentleman, Potter” He said sarcastically to hide his sheepishness, as they walked outside, Draco noticed the rain had stopped, but the road was still wet “The Apparition point is just right down the corner, you don’t have to walk with me”

 “You know what Ron told me when he became a couple with Blaise?”

 “No, what?” He asked curiously, Potter didn’t even answer his question

 “He told me to always seize the moment, or else it’ll disappear right away, he’s suddenly wiser than Hermione when he got together with Blaise, they’re truly a good couple” Potter walked along with him closely, his hands in his pocket, Draco walked on Potter’s left, because Draco’s good side of the face was the right side, it wasn’t like his left face was ugly, it just wasn’t better than the right. The street lights were shining above them, the sound of water dropping from the trees down to the grown, and the light from the Muggle vehicle on the road, Draco suddenly felt cozy next to Potter as they walked on the sidewalk

 “Well, that’s really wise of him to say” Draco absentmindedly ran his hand through his long braided hair and accidentally picked out a flower, he chuckled “Damn, I told Luna she mustn’t put any flower in my hair”

 “I think you look beautiful”

 “I…I didn’t ask you to say it”

 “I know, I just feel like saying it” Potter shrugged, smiling like a devil he was, Draco felt his cheeks warm again so he tried to walk farther than the prat and-

 “Draco!” He heard Potter yelling and next he heard a loud beeping sound from a car horn, and the next thing he knew, he was spun around and pulled flushed against the firm chest of the particular Gryffindor prat, then he heard the sound of water splashing, and he closed his eyes, afraid that he would get wet, but surprisingly, he was dry.

 Oh.

 “Potter” He whispered and Potter loosened his embrace on Draco a bit, he looked up at the prat and couldn’t speak a thing, because they were being so close again. Did Potter actually use himself as a shield to protect Draco so he wouldn’t get wet? Why did he have to be such a bloody hero every time?

 “I saw the puddle and the car, so…” Potter looked down at him and for the first time ever, he saw Potter blushed. And hell he was falling for the prat again. How many times have Draco became angry because Potter arrived at St. Mungo injured? How many times have Draco secretly wish he could get over the face that made him have wet dreams almost every day when they were in Eighth Year? How many times have Draco felt like crying because Potter went out to kill fight the Dark Lord over and over again? How many times have Draco’s heart skipped a beat when Potter smiled? It wasn’t time for him to feel shy, it wasn’t time for him to put his pride and ego at the front, it was rather time for him to do what he should have done many years ago but he just didn’t have the guts to.

 “Potter, ask me truth or dare” He said, their bodies still flushed against each other, a few strands of hair fell down to Draco’s face

 “Truth or dare?” Potter asked softly, green eyes stared into his

 “Truth, ask me what I want to do now” He replied, determination in his words

 “What do you want to do now?”

 “I want you to finish the dare I gave you earlier” He finished and took a shaky breath

 “Draco”

 “Just shut up and kiss me” Draco pulled Potter’s collar and smashed their lips together, and fuck it felt divine, his body shivering from the sensation, from Potter’s tongue on his bottom lip, and when he opened his mouth, he could taste what Potter had eaten earlier, he could feel the light shining on both of them even though he closed his eyes, he could hear the sounds of cars driving by, but above all, he could felt Potter’s arms around his torso, hugging him, embracing him, his hands on Potter’s collar loosened and he wrapped his arms around Potter’s body, the git’s back was completely wet from the earlier accident, but he couldn’t care less. Draco let out a gasp when Potter grabbed his arse, fuck, those hands would feel amazing when Potter fingers him. The prat cupped Draco’s face and deepened the kiss, but just as they were about to take it to another level and fuck right on this street, Draco heard another car horn

 “Merlin’s fuck” He yelped and jumped away, breaking the kiss off when another car had passed by and splashed water on both of them again, this time it got on Draco’s arms that were on Potter’s back. He locked eyes with the Gryffindor for the million times throughout the night and smirked, knowing that he had just felt Potter’s hard on from his trousers while they were kissing and knew that they were both just excited about this, and god he wanted to feel that inside him right away, he grabbed Potter’s wrists and led him to the Apparition point

 “Pansy’s out tonight, probably shagging your best friend Granger right now, so she won’t be back until morning” He suggested “So…want to have another dessert at my flat?”

 “Only if the dessert is you” Potter pulled the blonde flushed against his broad chest and Draco laughed

 “You idiot, it was already emphasised” And with that, they Apparated away with a loud pop.

       *

       “Your house looks so nice” Potter said as he walked in Draco’s house with him

 “The light is on…weird” Draco mumbled and yelled when he saw two figures on the couch

 “Oh my god Pansy!” His voice went high and Pansy jolted, breaking off her kiss with Granger

 “Draco! Why are you here?”

 “Why are you here?” Draco snapped back at his friend

 “Harry” Granger pushed her hair behind her ear and pushed her skirt down to where they belong since Pansy’s hand was under there just a few seconds ago, her face redder than Ron’s hair

 “Mione” Harry said, his cheeks flushed, it must be weird for him to see his best friend like this, not Draco, Draco was used to it

 “Well this is awkward” Pansy said and Hermione nudged her, Pansy stood up and pulled Draco to the kitchen counter

 “I want the house for tonight” Pansy said

 “No way! I want it” Draco snapped

 “I got here first”

 “Well you can do it at Granger’s house”

 “And you can do it at Potter’s” Pansy argued with him and Draco sighed, fine, he could do it anywhere, as long as it was with Potter

 “Fine! You owe me two times now” He glared at her and walked to Harry’s spot

 “Harry”

 “Yeah?”

 “Can we go to your house...? Pansy and…she wants to…”

 “Do it with my best mate here” Harry chuckled and nodded, extending his hand “Side Along?”

 “Okay” He said and intertwined their hands together

 “Bye” Pansy said along with Granger, Draco nodded and waved them goodbye before he Apparate away with Harry again

       *

       “So…er, do you want anything to drink?” Harry said as soon as they were in his living room, Draco nodded, suddenly it felt too awkward, he felt shy, why did he feel shy?

 “Wine is good” He said and Harry turned around to open his kitchen cabinet, pulling out two wine glasses, but before he poured the wine out, he took off his jacket, and Draco felt butterflies in his stomach, how could a man just take off what he wears and looked so hot doing it? Draco turned around, looking around the house, he hasn’t been in the Grimmauld Place since he was a kid, being back here just brought him memories, and not good ones, Aunt Walburga was kind of a bitch, Draco shrugged off his long jacket and draped it over the couch

 “Harry” He jolted when a pair of arms snaked around his torso and he was being pulled back

 “You’re so beautiful” Harry mumbled into his ear and pressed a kiss on Draco’s cheek, the blonde leaned back to get more friction, but he was spun around, he grabbed Harry’s biceps as a reflex and couldn’t react when Harry kissed him, and oh he missed it, he felt like he could be kissed by Harry forever and ever and ever��and ever. The kiss became frantic as the both of them began unbuttoning each other’s clothes, Harry’s hands trailed down to grab Draco’s arse and the blonde gasp, breaking off the kiss because Harry was squeezing his bottom like a bouncy ball

 “Harry” He moaned and heard a low growl that wasn’t his, Draco let out a loud yelp when he was pushed onto the couch “Ow! You brute”

 “Oh god, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Harry suddenly became so caring and soft, he touched Draco’s head and kept rubbing it gently, it didn’t hurt that much but Harry was definitely making it all better anyway

 “You’re a dork” He chuckled “I’m fine, I was just being dramatic”

 “Are you really okay?” Harry asked again and Draco pulled him close

 “Now listen to me very carefully, Harry James Potter, I have been waiting to be fucked by you for a decade now, I’m not getting any younger” Draco leaned up and mumbled into Harry’s ear “We’re not getting any younger”

 “Fuck” was all Harry said, soon Draco was attacked by the git’s kiss again, this time it was hotter. Harry quickly pulled the last piece of Draco’s clothes off and stopped for a moment

 “What are you waiting for?” Draco stared up at Harry but the git stayed still, his eyes roaming all over the blonde’s body

 “I’m just…watching the masterpiece, fuck you’re beautiful” Harry smiled and bent down to kiss him again, their body flushed, but Draco pushed him back again

 “Why do you still have your trousers on?” He arched an eyebrow and pointed to the bulge on Harry’s jeans “Come on, take it off” Draco felt like they were talking too much and the fucking part still hasn’t come yet, was this even foreplay?

 “Holy—…Potter” Draco gaped when Harry took off his boxer, Harry Potter was hung, he smirked proudly “I knew it”

 “You knew?”

 “I have a talent for it” Draco shrugged and pulled Harry by the neck down, their kiss was less frantic and more chaste now, Harry broke the kiss off and began kissing Draco’s jawline, and the kisses were trailed down lower, to Draco’s neck, to his pulse point, to his collarbone and to his sensitive nipples, Draco moaned when Harry licked and sucked on it. Even though the Gryffindor was teasing Draco’s upper body, he could still feel Harry’s hand slithering down and was circling his now lubed entrance. When did that happen exactly? He couldn’t remember, because Draco couldn’t even think right now, not when Harry had pushed another finger in and scissoring Draco

 “Wait woah hey” Draco frowned when Harry suddenly pulled his fingers out “Why are y—…”

 “Get on your hands and knees” Harry ordered, his eyes filled with lust, and Draco found himself yearning for more, the domination, the power that Harry has, Draco wanted it, so he obeyed, the blonde turned and got on his knees, he put his elbows down on the arm of the couch, knowing perfectly what Harry was going to do next

 “I know you’re going to say I’m beautiful again so just do what you want now, Potter” He rolled his eyes when he felt Harry was about to speak

 “I was actually going to say your arse are beautiful” Harry chuckled and grabbed his globes, spreading them apart, Draco felt Harry ghosting his breath over his hole, then something wet breached through his entrance and Draco arched his back, he leaned forward and moaned loudly

 “Holy fuck, Harry” He gripped on the arm of the couch for his life, because Harry’s tongue was doing something so sinful to Draco, so so so sinful. Harry kept rimming him, his hands pried Draco’s arse apart, going in deeper, the blonde whined, asking for more

 “Oh god, Harry” Draco cried out when two fingers were pushed in, Harry kissed Draco’s back and trailed the kisses up to his neck, while his fingers were still inside Draco

 “I’ll take good care of you” Harry kissed the spot behind Draco’s ears and pulled his fingers out. Draco almost forgot how big Harry was until he felt the head began pushing inside

 “Oh wow, oh holy w-woah” Draco leaned forward as Harry pushed in, Merlin it was huge, he dropped his head and moaned, Harry wrapped an arm around his torso and pulled him flushed against his chest, also pulling him from falling off the couch, Draco felt warm at the action

 “Faster god damn it Harry!” He urged the man and Harry obeyed, slamming in with forceful thrusts, earning loud moans from Draco’s mouth, he was pretty sure the couch was moving and shaking from it. Harry ran his hand through Draco’s long hair and pulled back a bit, causing Draco to whine and opened his mouth, Harry took the chance and kissed the blonde, plunging his tongue deep inside as he thrusted into Draco at the same time. Draco has never felt so aroused before, his skin was burning from the sensation, sweats were forming on his forehead. Draco moaned when Harry tweaked the blonde’s sensitive nipple, making him break the kiss off

 “Harry oh god please please please” He wailed, his knees have gone weak, every thrust Harry made, he could feel it deep in him, he could feel everything, Harry’s cock hitting at his prostate constantly, then he felt another hand that wasn’t his, trailing down to his untouched prick, Harry started stroking him and that was all it took to get Draco to come like he has never before. The blonde cried out, shooting everywhere on the couch, Draco’s hole twitched and that made Harry came too, his body jerking above Draco, he shuddered and came inside the blonde. Draco’s elbow went down and he collapsed on the arm of the couch, Harry still above him.

 “Fuck, that was…”

 “Shut up, Potter” He replied

 “What about Harry?”

 “You caught me at my weakest moment” He lied and heard the git chuckled, bending down to kiss Draco on his cheek

 “Want to move to the bedroom?”

 “I’m tired, carry me” He said and gasped when Harry pulled out, he suddenly felt empty inside “Harry!”

 “You told me to carry you” Harry rolled the blonde around, carrying him up in bridal style, Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck to secure himself, feeling unable to hide his smile, he carried Draco up the stairs and they did it quietly, Draco spent the whole time staring at his face. Harry didn’t change much, he just got…more mature, his eyes were still as green as ever, his smile was still bright, his lips was still so…kissable, his jawline was so sharp that Draco’s fingers were touching it unconsciously, his finger trailed from Harry’s ear, down to his sharp jaw, and down to the veins on his neck, Harry turned his head and looked down at Draco

 “If I’m not wrong, I’d say you’re smitten with me, Malfoy”

 “You wish, Potter” Draco snorted, but his hand kept touching Harry’s face, he was just simply…godlike, beautiful, and touching it now made Draco feel like he was blessed, they locked eyes like that until…

 “Ow! Potter!” He yelped loudly when his head hit the wall to Harry’s bedroom door

 “Oh god I’m so sorry” Harry laughed “I was…distracted by your face” He added and put Draco down on the bed gently, the git sat down on the side of the bed and rubbed Draco’s head “Does it hurt?”

 “Yes it bloody hurts, Potter” He frowned

 “Do you want me to kiss the pain away?” Harry suggested while chuckling

 “I’m not five, Potter” He pouted

 “Are you sure?” Harry smiled and bent down, planting a soft kiss on the sore spot on Draco’s head, the blonde bit his lips to stop himself from smiling “One more?”

 “Sod off, Potter” He said and Harry bent down to kiss the blonde’s head again

 “One more?” Harry asked and Draco finally looked at him, the git was grinning like a real prat, but Draco kind of like it, made him felt like a kid all over again

 “Five more and I’ll forgive you” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, Harry sniggered but still bent down to give Draco a kiss on his head, then a kiss on his forehead, then he lowered down to plant two kiss on either side of Draco’s cheeks, then he cupped the blonde’s face and gave him one last kiss on his lips

 “You’re such a sap” He mumbled when they broke off the kiss

 “You made me this way, don’t you want to pay for what you did?”

 “What do you want?”

 “How about…a trillion kisses from you?” Harry’s eyes gleamed and Draco let out a laugh

 “Greedy, aren’t you?” Draco asked, pulling Harry down to connect their lips once again as an answer, because he’d want to give a trillion kisses to Harry too, the git was an excellent kisser anyway, it almost seemed that what Luna had said about fate was true, and for once he believed in it.

     The End.

[chorusfic]

shattering the mirror--

(note: follow-up to “a cordial invitation”. there wasn’t supposed to be a part two, but some headcanons spun out of control, and here we are.)

---

Without much exception, Alyseia’s routine had been the same every day for about a thousand years now, give or take.

She rose hours before the grand magistrix did, attending to minor cleanliness tasks and fetching her grandiose headdress from where it was stored with the rest of her regalia, setting it out with whatever outfit the magistrix herself picked the night before. If no outfit lay waiting, Alyseia chose one, and had, over the years, perfected what Elisande typically wanted without her saying so.

Sometimes, after all, they became Alyseia’s outfits, when she sometimes acted as decoy for the magistrix herself.

Still hours before the magistrix rose, Alyseia went to the people she knew Elisande would want updates from, whether she had been ordered to or not, and she went to the kitchens to scarf down the lightest breakfast before returning with all due haste to the Nighthold’s heart, where Elisande would just be waking.

From there, Alyseia became her shadow, except for those few circumstances she was not permitted to know the business the magistrix discussed with her people. She listened, remembered, and kept silent unless asked to speak.

If she was fortunate, she had a few spare moments of recreation when Elisande took her meals, but even then she could be called upon unless explicitly dismissed--it could have been pure chance that Elisande had dismissed Alyseia for her meeting with Duskwatch Captain Vyltras, an hour before her disastrous meeting with Lucarys Evonti, her younger brother, but Alyseia strongly doubted it.

After all, she remembered the last message in her recent dead-drop from Shal’aran: allies are in closer reach than you think. Reach for them in the shadows if you have need.

If the implication was true--that even the Duskwatch’s captain had defected to the Nightfallen rebellion--Elisande was far closer to losing control of her empire than she suspected. Today had proven that without a shadow of a doubt.

The dismissal had given Alyseia time to switch the bottle of arcwine from Iltheux’s blend to Margaux’s, after all, and set up the message that Lucarys had been sent to deliver: her days were numbered, and the Nightfallen’s time was coming.

Alyseia remembered seeing the wine splattered across the floor when Elisande had summoned her back in to clean up the mess, deep violet-red like blood on the stone, and felt her throat tighten.

She had allies in the shadows, so she’d been told, but in the heart of her enemy’s home, it was all too easy to feel alone.

While Elisande met with Captain Vyltras, Alyseia slipped through the Nighthold’s hidden passages and forgotten tunnels until she reached its lowest levels, where a shrouded shape waited for her, idly tossing a dagger and catching it again. His ear twitched as she approached, and he told her without looking up, “She’s going to suspect you, if she doesn’t already--and she isn’t that much of a fool.”

It didn’t take much guessing to know which ‘she’ Lucarys referred to. “I know. I can’t leave yet, though, not while I can still provide information.”

“Unless you somehow discover a brand-new tunnel directly from here to the heart of the Nighthold, you’re not much use there anymore.” Lucarys tossed his dagger one more time before sheathing it with its match. “But suit yourself. I’ll pass the word on to Thalyssra.”

“Take this, too.” Alyseia reached into a pocket of her skirt and pulled free a few bound sheets of parchment. “Everything I remembered from Elisande’s meetings today.”

Lucarys took the parchment and quickly scanned through it. One long, white brow lifted. “So Vyltras’ report was accurate after all, then. Elisande really is risking a gala with the Nightfallen rebellion breathing down her neck. Tomorrow night, no less.”

“For her ‘favored allies’ in the Legion.” Alyseia confirmed. “I don’t have the details, but I know she’ll be there in person.”

“Vyltras left a note that it would be an ideal time to strike at her, and even if Thalyssra doesn’t agree, I do.” Lucarys fixed Alyseia with a considering look. “You understand?”

Alyseia swallowed. “I understand.”

“Then get back to the Nighthold before Elisande realizes you’re out. I doubt Vyltras can keep her occupied for long. She will approach you with the details about your place in the mission.” Lucarys stashed the bundle of letters in his jerkin and slipped into the darkness beyond the Nighthold’s lowest tunnels, leading to the Arcway. Alyseia waited until he was long out of sight before setting off at a brisk jog, weaving through her own hidden paths, back into the Nighthold’s center.

Like the eye of a storm, Alyseia thought, though she didn’t expect it to stay tranquil for long.

---

“Be certain of what you say, Vandros.” Elisande drummed her fingers against the table where she had, less than a half hour before, faced down her brother, magebane poison still running through her veins like fiery ants. “I am ill in the mood for assumptions.”

“I am certain, my lady.” Vandros’ hands were clasped behind his back in a loose approximation of parade rest. “I didn’t make the connection until just recently, but I came to you first. Your handmaiden has been wandering from the flock. It’s very likely the rebels know a great deal about your imminent plans, including the gala.”

Captain Vyltras had yet to answer Elisande’s summons, but that was of little concern to her--she was Elisande’s most capable Duskwatch captain, and as such, tended to remain busy. She had summoned Vandros in the interim, who had a very interesting piece of information to her--a confirmation of something Elisande had already suspected.

She could have quietly killed her favored handmaiden and swept the whole incident into the shadows, deprived the rebellion of a trusted, vital resource and left them grasping in the dark, and it might have even been the smartest thing to do.

But she could still do that and send a clear message, destroying their morale at the same time.

A grin curved up Elisande’s cheek. “The gala will proceed as planned.”

“My lady?”

“Have Alyseia report back to me. I will require her for the necessary preparations.” Elisande rose and began sorting through her sets of regalia, searching for something with long, flowing sleeves. “You’re dismissed, Vandros.”

Vandros’ footsteps disappeared as Elisande pushed through her typical open attire, reaching for the gaudiest gown in the back, something she hardly ever unearthed herself. Its sleeves easily reached her knuckles when unrolled fully, and would assuredly be just as long on Alyseia’s arms.

Footsteps, too heavy to be her handmaidens, announced Captain Vyltras’ arrival. “Forgive my tardiness, my lady.”

“You are forgiven.” Elisande turned away from the expansive armoire and returned to her chair at the room’s table. “I want to discuss additional security measures for the food and drink that passes from the kitchens to my quarters. And I would also like to discuss the gala.”

Thalianne Vyltras, as Elisande had come to learn during her long tenure with the Duskwatch, was a professional woman who could be trusted to keep focused on a task and follow through with it continuously. A bit somber for Elisande’s taste, but she was effective enough. Even now she hardly moved a muscle from where she stood, spine ramrod-straight, as she said, “I will arrange for testers to try your meals when they arrive at your quarters. What about the gala did you wish to discuss?”

“Have extra patrols ensure the Arcway tunnels remain clear, and place additional guards around my dais.” Elisande slowly drummed her fingers on the table’s surface. “Nightfallen assassins have grown more bold of late, and I will not tolerate their incursions.”

“As you will, my lady.” Vyltras bowed low. “I don’t expect it to affect our timeline, but if difficulties arise, I will inform you.”

“See that you do, Captain. You are dismissed.”

Captain Vyltras strode briskly from Elisande’s quarters and left the magistrix herself deep in thought as she planned for what she would tell her handmaiden. Not only had she forsaken the nightborne entirely, she had shattered Elisande’s trust, such a precious gift that the brat had clearly wasted in the name of empty freedom.

Elisande’s hand tightened into a fist, but with effort, she released a breath, relaxed, let a smile play across her lips.

She reached for a fresh bottle of arcwine, delivered by another servant a few moments ago, and poured two glasses.

It didn’t take long for Alyseia to return, slipping in through a hidden passage Elisande had shown her many years ago--there was a brief tightening in her chest at the thought of that memory, and Elisande crushed it. Sentimentality had no place here, not anymore.

“I am returning as requested, my lady.” Alyseia delicately curtsied in her long skirt until its hem brushed the ground, where she had cleaned up the remnants of the traitor Margaux’s arcwine earlier today.

“Very good.” Elisande smiled, and beckoned her closer. “I know you have been quite busy lately--please, join me.”

To her credit, Alyseia obeyed with all the haste she had for the past one thousand years that Elisande had entrusted her with so many things, and sat in the chair across from her, where her traitorous brother had sat. Elisande rose, and slowly pushed one of the wine glasses in Alyseia’s direction, holding her own as she moved to Alyseia’s side, resting a hand on her shoulder. “My lady?” Alyseia spoke, and if Elisande strained her ears hard enough, she could hear the tremor in it.

“Do enjoy some of the wine, won’t you?” Elisande tightened her grip on Alyseia’s shoulder, making it clear that it was an order, not a suggestion, and felt the muscle tense, then relax under her palm. “Do you remember what I told you when I first entrusted you with this position, as my favored handmaiden?”

Alyseia paused with her lips on the glass, then painstakingly set it back on the table, folding her hands in her lap. “You told me that you would ensure I was taken care of, so long as I did the same.”

“That is correct.” Elisande moved her hand from Alyseia’s shoulder to the smooth column of her neck. “I think it was a rather generous proposition for a waifish girl languishing in my streets, serving cheaply-made arcwine for a struggling vintner. I saw in you something special, Alyseia, a certain...quietness. A willingness to listen, where others would speak. And for so long, I assumed my words were the only ones you heard.”

“I would never betray you, my lady.” Alyseia’s eyes were downcast, as Elisande preferred, but her voice was quieter now, and in it, Elisande heard the truth. “You have given me everything.”

“If that is so,” Elisande moved her hand back to Alyseia’s shoulder, and gripped tighter this time as her voice turned cold, “then you have thrown away everything in the name of empty freedom, a fool’s gambit. And now you will pay the price for it.”

What little color remained in Alyseia’s pale lavender skin fled in a rush, and she looked up to meet Elisande’s eyes this time. “My lady--”

“Did you think I would never discover the truth?” Elisande hissed, “Or did you think yourself so untouchable that you would be forgiven? It matters not, in the end.”

“I knew I might be discovered someday.” Alyseia locked her eyes with Elisande’s again, and in them, she saw fire, held just barely in check as her voice trembled. “I knew it was a risk. You may have given me shelter, sustenance, everything--but you could not offer me freedom. You might think it empty, but I would rather die for that freedom than live under the Legion’s shackles.”

Frosty silence sat between them, and Elisande’s grip on her glass threatened to shatter it in her hand, but with effort, she set it down, where it wobbled on the table before settling. “You will have your wish, Alyseia, but it will not be here, and it will not be now. Guards!” Elisande snapped her fingers, and two of her honor guard, stationed at her quarters’ doors, entered, their polearms and shields at the ready. “Have my handmaiden taken to her quarters. She is to be kept under constant guard until the gala.”

“Yes, my lady.” one of the guards roughly pulled Alyseia to her feet, and Elisande resisted the automatic impulse to tell them to lighten their hands, as she would have before.

Alyseia was a traitor, and she would die a traitor’s death...at the hands of those she had betrayed Elisande for.

[deans-baby-momma]

The Padackles Link-Chapter 51

A/N: Some questions get answered only for others to pop up. #sorrynotsorry

“He didn’t say where he was going?“ Gen asked.

"No,” Drea said through the phone. “He just asked me to give him some time and then left.”

After she had gotten Jackson fed and changed and put down Drea had called Gen to see if Jensen was there or if Jared had heard from him.

Gen sent Jared off to call his best friend/pseudo-brother to find out what was going on but after a couple of minutes, the sound of her sighing through the phone gave me an answer.

“He didn’t pick up, did he?” Drea asked reluctantly.

“I’m-We’re coming over,” she said and then hung up.

When Jared and Gen arrived she was surprised to see them without the kids. When asked they told her the babysitter had them. The three of them sat on the sofa and Drea told them both exactly how Jay had acted once they had gotten home and what was said.

They were both at a loss to what was going on. They were still there when Jackson woke up and kept offering to help but Drea knew if she didn’t keep her mind on what she needed to do, she would break down again and she didn’t want that. A million thoughts were going through her head and concentrating on taking care of their son helped to keep them from festering.

“What…what if he decided to give her another chance? What if seeing Dani moving on caused him to realize he still loves and wants her?”

Jared was shaking his head before Drea had even finished talking.

“No, that’s definitely not it,” he affirmed. “I have known Jay for 10 years now. And in those years we have gotten pretty close. He is done with her. He doesn’t want her back, I can promise you that,” Jared declared. “Drea, he loves you. So much! You should see the way he lights up when he talks about you. He has been happier this past year than I have seen him since I’ve known him.” Jared’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked to the screen. He got up and walked into the kitchen but Gen and I could still hear the conversation, albeit one-sided.

“Dude, what’s going on? Where are you?” There was silence and then Jared huffed. “Why didn’t you just say that?” More silence. I could hear the cadence of Jay’s voice through the phone but not what he was saying. “Yea, she’s freaking out!” It was silent again and then Jared spoke, his voice louder than before. “Because she’s afraid you’re going back to Dani.” Jared pauses to listen. “Well you get that shit figured out and get back here ASAP or I’ll kick your ass!” Jared walked back into the room with me and Gen, a hand running over his hair. “Okay, okay. Yea, tomorrow. Bye.” As he slipped the phone back in his pocket, he sat down beside his wife.

“He’s going to his parents’ for the night,” Jared explained. “He promised to be back tomorrow.”

“Why? Did he say why he left?” Drea asked as she settled Jackson on her shoulder and began rubbing his back.

“Just that he has some issues to work through,” Jared explained. “He just wanted some time to think.”

“Where did he go? If he didn’t come to you…"Drea trailed off, wondering where her boyfriend would go to think, with a packed bag.

"His parents. Said they would give him the space he needed to get his head straight. He’s coming back tomorrow,” Jared explained. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll kick his ass!”

Drea smiled at the sentiment behind the threat. For an outsider, Drea felt loved and wanted by Jensen’s friends.

Hours later, Jared had left to go relieve the babysitter but Gen convinced Drea to let her stay, declaring that she didn’t need to be left alone. Gen could tell that Drea was trying her best to keep the distressing and detrimental thoughts from taking over in her head and she was determined to help her keep them in check. Gen watched Drea take care of Jackson, making sure the little boy did not sense the stress and anxiety caused by Jensen’s departure.

“Is there anything I can do?” Gen asked her friend. “I could bathe him while you relax,” she offered.

Drea smiled as she undressed her son, getting ready to do just that. “Nah, I got it. If I don’t stay busy, I’ll just let me mind wander and turn into a big old crying mess. And that wouldn’t be helpful at all.”

Gen nodded and sat at the vanity in the bathroom. “Well I will just keep you company then.”

Drea set about bathing the baby and then wrapping him in the towel she had set aside.  She carried Jackson to his room, Gen on her heels.

“You know, I’m glad you are here. I don’t think I could stand to stay here by myself, knowing he is supposed to be here with us,” Drea spoke in a fake cheerful voice as she attended to getting Jackson ready for bed. She didn’t want him to catch onto her emotional despair. “But I promise I’m not fragile. This isn’t going to cause me to go into some type of depression. I know those signs. I did that after Chad died. You don’t have to keep an eagle’s eye on me, you know.”

Gen walked up behind Drea and wrapped her arms around her friend’s waist. “I know, honey. Doesn’t mean I can’t still worry about you.  What Jay did, whatever his reasons for his behavior,  was totally uncalled for and if you want to vent, bitch, complain or just cry I’m here for you. We’re here for you; Jared and I both. We love you Drea.”

Drea smiled through the tears in her vision. “I love you guys too. You’re my best friend Gen. I’ve never had one like you,” Drea whispered as she put the now snoozing baby in his crib.

After checking to make sure her son was going to stay down, Drea walked back to the front of the house with Gen.

Drea sit on the sofa while Gen went to the kitchen, only to return with two wine glasses full of the sweet nectar. “Here, one will be fine. Won’t get you drunk so in case Jackson wakes up but it’ll loosen you up enough to relax.”

Drea took the glass and drew a sip from it.

“Now, tell me. What happened exactly,” Gen encouraged her friend so that she could maybe understand what was going on.

It took a half bottle of Chateau Margaux for Drea to get it all out. She told Gen about her run-in with Josh while changing Jackson at JJ’s party to Jensen’s reaction to seeing his ex cuddled up with her former doctor and Drea’s ex. She went on to tell Gen about the quiet trip home and Jensen locking himself up in his office, obviously drinking to the blowout they had only an hour before Jensen packed a bag and left.

“I don’t understand it Gen,” Drea said after draining her glass. “I thought everything was okay; that we were okay. Is he still hung up on her? After everything she put him through and all that we’ve been through? What is he thinking?”

Gen laid a hand on Drea’s knee. “I don’t know honey. But I do know that man loves you with everything in him. I can see it with the way he looks at you and Jared says that Jay is back to his goofy self on set. Apparently their marriage had been rocky for awhile and it was affecting his sense of humor and ability to just cut up. You are the reason for that change Drea. You have made him a better man,” Gen said soothingly.  

Later that night, after the women bid one another good night and retreated to their own spaces; Drea in the master bedroom and Gen in the guest room, Genevieve Padalecki called her husband.  "Jared I have an idea.“

@lostinaseaoffictionalabyss

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[amirarouhani]

Who: Amira Rouhani and Rosana Naceri  What: Rosana tries to get some sense flowing through Amira’s head Where: Over text Warnings: N/A

Rosana:  How'd the trial go?

Amira: Wasn't a trial, just a hearing. Amira: Judge went on and on about how disappointed her was, as though anyone cared. Amira: But she's fine. Two years probation and had to plead guilty but better than it could have been.

Rosana: But it was a good thing? You did good things.

Amira: Depends who you ask. Amira: Did my job.

Rosana: Alright, you did a good thing. Understood. Why are you not happier?

Amira: I'm fine. Just tired.

Rosana: Okay, liar.

Amira: You know, insulting me is not conducive to a conversation 

Rosana: I always insult you. Out of love or something similar. What's going on?

Amira: Nothing. 

Rosana: Okay, liar. Rosana: Do I need to make a drive? 

Amira: God, no. I'm fine. Amira: You don't need to drop everything any time I don't feel like talking, I'm an adult. 

Rosana: Who did it? 

Amira: No one. [ a beat ] Amira: Me. I fucked up. 

Rosana: What happened? 

Amira: Fucked things up with Lex, the doctor I was telling you about. Pretty sure she never wants to see me again

Rosana: Wasn’t it going relatively okay? How in the world did you ‘fuck it up’? That doesn’t make sense. 

Amira: I found mom's ring. The one I thought I lost. Amira: Margaux had it. And I slept with her. 

Rosana: You. Rosana: You slept with Margaux. Because she had mom’s ring?

Amira: Yes. No, it's more complicated than that. Amira: But still. I fucked up royally. Amira: I don't blame her for being pissed off. 

Rosana: Explain to me why the hell you slept with the world’s most heinous bitch and Satan’s literal daughter. 

Amira: You're going to think that it's stupid. 

Rosana: Yes. Tell me anyways. 

Amira: I was just... We went out to dinner on Saturday. Me and Lex and Bobbi and Julian, Bobbi's boyfriend. And me and Lex had talked before about how it's okay if we sleep or scene with other people while we figure this out. And.. so she scened with a girl on Friday. Like, a girl. I'm pretty sure she's 21. She's blonde, beautiful, young.. the perfect model submissive. No scars. And Lex seemed so happy and relaxed on Saturday and Bobbi and Julian were doing cute couple shit so I just.... I just felt really lonely. Like I'm 36 years old and the closest I've ever been to a claim was with, in your words, Satan's literal daughter ten years ago. Amira: So I went to go get the ring and that was supposed to be it. But then she asked me to put it on and I did. And I felt... I don't know, dumb. I felt like it was the only chance I might actually ever get to wear it because I'm just going to be alone forever. One thing led to another and... yeah.

Rosana: You’re right, it’s beyond fucking stupid, Amira. I love you, but it’s like when it comes to common sense and romance, your brain just disappears. Rosana: You’re not going to be alone forever. Hell, you were literally just fucking telling me about this doctor lady and then a week later, you’re now saying you fucked it up. Rosana: You can’t say you’re going to be alone forever and then self sabotage, Amira. Put on your damn big girl pants already. You’re 36, that’s nowhere near too old for a relationship or claim. Rosana: I love you so much. I do. But you realize this isn’t the first time we’ve had similar conversations about you not being alone forever? [ a few minutes later ] Rosana: Okay, now that that’s out of my system. What are you going to do about it?

Amira: Yeah, I know I'm a stupid selfish submissive who needs to be put in her place and maybe the best I can get is Satan's literal daughter. Maybe if I'd stayed, she'd be beating me up instead of random ass submissives who get in her way. That's the Naceri way, isn't it? Amira: I don't know. She doesn't want to see me. And I want to respect that, but I also... I want to fight.

Rosana: Oh, please. If you go near her again, I'm going to kill both you and that bitch. Rosana: Fight how?

Amira: She completely broke down a submissive yesterday. Because of me. Because she was angry at me. If I'd stayed, maybe I would have placated the monster or something. Amira: I don't know. I was thinking of sending her food tomorrow. Because I know she doesn't really stop to eat during shifts.

Rosana: No, if you'd stayed, she would have done that to you and everyone else. No. Rosana: Is.. that romantic?

Amira: She never treated me like that. Amira: I don't fucking know, I'm just trying what I can without making her uncomfortable. Do you have any suggestions of great master of love?

Rosana: Yeah, I don't give a shit. No. Rosana: I'm just asking. Alright, how about this: what do you hope to accomplish by 'fighting'?

Amira: I just want to try and fix it. Even if she never actually wants me back like that, just so we can be friends or something again. But also showing that I'm willing to fight for us. Amira: Because if it's not her, it's not anyone else. I don't want anyone else.

Rosana: How are you going to fix it by never showing your face? Rosana: ...okay, back up-- when did that happen?

Amira: I don't know but her cousin broke my nose so I don't think showing my face is a good idea right now. Amira: When I saw her face after I told her.

Rosana: When were you going to tell me THAT?! Rosana: I swear to fuck, I'm coming to New Eden next week. [ a beat ] Rosana: Her face?

Amira: No, don't. I deserved it. Amira: Her face. It just... she looked like I completely ripped apart her heart. She was going to tell me that she wanted to maybe try more than what we were already doing. She liked me for me. Me, being a complete idiot during dinner the night before because I thought she wanted some little blonde bimbo. But I was in my head and I fucked up and then I told her because I wanted to be honest. And she threw me out of her apartment.

Rosana: Jesus fuck, Amira.

Amira: Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm an idiot and a waste of space and I should stop trying to find love and I should just focus on my work.

Rosana: No! Oh my god. Rosana: Just maybe do more than fucking food.

Amira: Like what??

Rosana: https://www.wikihow.com/Fight-for-a-Relationship

Amira: I'm leaving.

Rosana: It might help!

Amira: It hasn't told me anything I haven't already done! Apologize, check. Listen, check. Reach out but don't over-pursue, CHECK.

Rosana: Is going to her apartment to tell her you fucked your ex reaching out? I don't think so. No check. Check redacted.

Amira: The food was supposed to be the reaching out!

Rosana: How!!

Amira: What do you mean how? I'm going to send her food and a note being like, I hope you have a chance to eat since I know you're busy. it's supposed to be me thinking of her while also not actually showing up and making her uncomfortable

Rosana: That is the most stalkerish thing I've ever heard of, but okay.

Amira: Okay but you're shooting down all my ideas without actually offering anything constructive

Rosana: Okay, keep the food. Send a flower with it. One that has like a real meaning and write a real note telling her to look it up or something. And sign your damn name.

Amira: A flower. With some kind of meaning. Okay... okay, that's good. Maybe you do have some game

Rosana: Shut the fuck up.

Amira: Thanks, Ros. I mean it.

Rosana: Yeah, yeah. I'm still coming next week, so get your place clean.

Amira: Or you can not.

Rosana: Already bought a ticket.

Amira: Ugh I have a friend staying with me.

Rosana: Oh well. Rosana: Anyways, I need to go. Have fun with your wooing or whatever. I'll see you Monday.

Amira: I love you. Say hi to Lina for me.

Rosana: She says hi back. Love you too. You better sleep tonight.

Amira: Yeah, yeah.

[bibbawrites]

Beach Baby - Single Dad!Charlie x Owen

THIS IS PART 4 OF THE SINGLE DAD!CHARLIE SERIES YOU CAN READ PART 1 HERE , THE PREQUEL (PART 2) HERE AND PART 3 HERE 

Request: none

Word Count: 3907 words 😳

Summary: Part 4 of Single Dad!Charlie, Margaux and Charlie reunite with Owen in Hawaii after months apart due to lockdown, just in time for Margaux’s fourth birthday 

Warnings: technically underage drinking, i guess technically i have to warn that this is implied mutual crushing between owen and charlie, if you dont feel comfortable with romantic chowen do not read 

A/N: i couldn’t get this out of my head so i had to write it, and boy did i write it this is the longest non-chaptered fic ive ever written and honestly i could have made it longer but i didnt want it to drag on any more that it already did this is literally more than double the length of my normal fics, i got very carried away

also just a note that i’m not trying to be rude about the fans who met the boys at the airport and i’m sure in real life the boys were happy to stop and chat, but from a parents perspective charlie’s first instinct would be to protect his daughter so i just thought i’d add that. please don’t get upset for that part!

sorry for any mistakes, its 4am and im half asleep trying to read through this to post lol anyways, hope you enjoy! 

Tag List: @happinessinthedarkesttimes​ @littlemissaddict​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic​ @headheartbellarke​ @lovesanimals​ @bartok-the-magnificent​ @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik @kaitieskidmore1 @katrina765​ @fandomxreaders​​ @ifilwtmfc

“Papa!” Margaux screamed, racing across the airport to Owen, the blond boy scooping up the nearly four year old and spinning her around when she reached him. 

“Maggie! I’ve missed you so much.” Owen exclaimed, pulling his mask down to pepper her cheeks with kisses, causing Margaux to giggle loudly. “Where’s your Daddy?” 

“Right behind you.” Owen spun around to find Charlie standing there, clearly smiling at him despite the bandana that covered his mouth, and Owen’s heart skipped a beat at how good Charlie looked in the early morning sun streaming through the airport windows. 

Meanwhile Charlie was thinking the exact same thing, admiring how attractive Owen was, especially when he was in his dad mode. He really understood why girls had such a weakness for cute boys with cute kids when he saw Owen with Margaux. 

Charlie stepped forward, pulling Owen into a tight hug and Margaux whined in complaint at being squished between her dad and her self declared papa. They pulled away from each other, both boys fighting to hide their slightly flushed cheeks. 

“I’m hungry.” Margaux whined, and Charlie was snapped out of his heart eyes daze, his whole focus back on his daughter. 

“Let’s get some food into you before our plane leaves then eh.” He replied, and Margaux nodded happily. 

Feeling bold Owen grabbed onto Charlie’s hand, lacing their fingers together. It wasn’t unusual for them to do this but it was the first time doing it when they were well known enough that someone might recognise them. But neither of them really cared. They were just happy to be back together again. 

- 

The minute they arrived in Hawaii they were met with fans. As much as he loved meeting the fans Charlie couldn’t help but sigh slightly as he tried to protect Margaux as much as he could.

It wasn’t that the fans didn’t know about Margaux, because it was a well known fact that he was a single dad, it was more that he wanted to keep her away from the spotlight. She hadn’t asked for her dad to become a well known actor, and she didn’t deserve to have her life changed because of it. He was determined to give her the most normal life possible. 

Eventually they made it to the villa house that they were staying in while in Hawaii, and after throwing their bags into their rooms it was time to have a bit of fun. 

“Swim time swim time!” Margaux sung, running laps around the living room. Kenny chuckled at the small girl, looking up at Charlie who was following closely behind her. 

“It seems like only yesterday she was a tiny two year old who cried every time you left her side.” He said, and Charlie smiled fondly, sitting down on the chair next to Kenny. 

“She’s growing up too fast.” He agreed. “I can’t believe in less than 24 hours time I’ll be a dad to a four year old.” 

Margaux tripped on the tiles, landing with a clatter, her bottom lip jutting out. Charlie jumped up, but before he could even think about moving across the room Owen was by Margaux’s side, helping her up and pulling her into a tight hug. He whispered something in her ear and Margaux giggled loudly, her fall already forgotten.

Charlie smiled softly at the scene, his heart filled with love for both the blond boy and his little princess. 

“Daddy.” Margaux called, snapping Charlie out of his daze. 

“Yeah baby?” He answered, finally making his way across the room. 

“Can we swim now?” She asked, grabbing onto his leg. Charlie subconsciously ran his hand through her soft curls.  

“Of course we can.” He replied. Margaux glanced up at Owen. 

“Papa too?” She questioned. 

“Papa too.” Charlie agreed. Margaux peered past him, her gaze landing on Kenny.

“Coming Uncle Kenny?” She asked, and Kenny laughed, standing up. 

“Coming Little Gillespie.” He replied. 

Margaux smiled contently, taking both Charlie and Owen’s hands to pull them outside towards the pool. 

She really did have every single one of them wrapped around her little finger. 

- 

Dinner that night was special, as it was supposed to be Carolynn’s last day on the island. They decided on a joint party for her last night, as well as celebrating Margaux’s birthday a day early. 

They had headed to a tiny restaurant near their villa, and Charlie had allowed Margaux to pick whatever she wanted from the menu, not that it mattered because she chose chicken nuggets and chips anyways.

The meal was nice, and before they knew it they were arriving back at the villa. Jeremy, Carolynn and Kenny all excused themselves for bed, and Tori settled into the couch, flicking the TV on. 

“Bath and bed time baby.” Charlie told Margaux, and she pouted but obeyed, following him into the hallway. 

“Hey Char, can I ask you something?” Owen asked, trailing behind the father daughter duo, and Charlie stopped, letting Margaux run ahead to their room. 

“Anything.” He smiled. 

“Do you mind if I share your room? I know the other bed was meant to be for Margaux but-” Owen started, playing with his fingers slightly. 

“She can share with me.” Charlie cut him off. “Bed’s all yours.” Owen looked up, his eyes widening. 

“Really?” He checked. 

“Of course.” Charlie smiled. Owen grinned, throwing his arms around Charlie’s neck. 

“Thanks Char. I just didn’t really want to sleep alone.” He admitted, and Charlie squeezed him tight. 

“Any time.” He told Owen, and the blond boy pulled away with a smile, before heading off to the room he was originally going to stay in to collect his bags. 

Charlie entered the room that he and Margaux, and now Owen, were sharing, finding his daughter already snuggled into one of the beds, still wearing her dinner clothes. Charlie sighed, moving to pull her out of the bed. Owen entered the room, bags in tow, and Margaux looked up at him excitedly. 

“Papa! Are you sleeping here?” She questioned. Owen placed his bags in the corner before answering. 

“I am Miss Maggie.” He said, and Margaux cheered. 

“You don’t mind sleeping with Daddy?” Charlie checked, and Margaux shook her head, jumping up to throw her arms around Charlie’s neck. 

“Nope! More cuddles!” She stated. Charlie laughed, picking her up. 

“Exactly right. Now, it’s bath time.” He said, grabbing Margaux’s pyjamas as she clung to him. 

“Bye Papa!” Margaux called as Charlie moved to leave the room. Owen waved. 

“Bye Maggie!” He replied, matching her enthusiasm. Charlie couldn’t help but smile. 

Margaux was so lucky to have someone like Owen in her life. They both were. 

- 

“Daddy! Wake up!” Margaux screamed, jumping on top of Charlie. He groaned, squinting as he looked up at his daughter. 

“What time is it?” He mumbled. Owen sat up in his own bed, grabbing his phone to check the time. 

“4:47am.” He informed Charlie, his voice thick with sleep. Charlie tried to ignore how sexy Owen’s morning voice was, instead focusing on his daughter. 

“Mags it’s too early to be awake.” He told her. Margaux pouted, flopping down on top of him. 

“Daddy, it’s my birthday!” She exclaimed. Charlie smiled, kissing her cheek. 

“I know baby, happy birthday. Now can we sleep for a little bit?” He tried. Margaux thought for a moment. 

“Only if Papa comes here too.” She decided. 

Charlie’s eyes widened slightly, eyes fixed on Owen as the younger boy sleepily slid out of his bed with no hesitation, and into Charlie’s, snuggling into Charlie’s side the minute he laid down. Margaux squirmed her way under the covers, squishing herself in between the two of them. 

Charlie shut his eyes in an attempt to get back to sleep, but it was no use. He opened his eyes again, staring up at the ceiling, as Margaux slept soundly next to him.

His mind was racing, noticing every single little place where Owen’s warm skin was in contact with his. It felt like he was on fire.

“Stop thinking.” Owen mumbled, and Charlie turned his head to see Owen staring at him, his eyes half shut with sleep.

“How did you know?” He questioned. Owen gave him a small smile. 

“I always know. Whatever it is, just ignore it for now. Get some sleep, it’s gonna be a big day.” Owen whispered. Charlie paused for a moment, just staring at Owen in the dim light from Margaux’s nightlight. Even half asleep in the almost complete darkness of the room Owen still looked gorgeous. Charlie swallowed. 

“You’re right. Thanks O.” He replied. 

“Love you.” Owen yawned in response, his eyes shutting again. Charlie smiled softly, moving his hand to brush a bit of Owen’s hair off his face.

“I love you too Owen.” He replied, despite the fact that the younger boy was already asleep. He pressed a soft kiss to Owen’s head, and lowered his voice to no more than a whisper.

“More than I probably should.”

- 

After what felt like no time at all Charlie was being shaken awake again. 

“Daddy is it time to get up now?” Margaux questioned, sitting on his chest. Charlie yawned. 

He reached over and checked his phone. It was just after 6:30am. 

“Okay we can get up. But we’re gonna leave Papa to sleep a little bit more, okay?” Charlie compromised. Margaux thought for a moment before agreeing. Charlie grinned, sliding the both of them out of the bed careful not to wake Owen. Once they were out of the bed Charlie lifted Margaux up, placing her on his hip. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple.  

“Now. Let’s go make some birthday pancakes.” 

- 

“Happy birthday Little Gillespie.” Jeremy sung, entering the kitchen with Carolynn close behind him.

Margaux grinned, her mouth full of pancake. 

“Thank you!” She exclaimed, her words muffled by her food. Carolynn stepped past Jeremy, moving to place a gentle kiss on Margaux’s head and whisper to her. Margaux grinned before looking up at her father.

“Hey Daddy?” She spoke. Charlie made a noise in response.

“Yeah?” He said, flipping pancakes onto a plate for both Jeremy and Carolynn.

“Do you think the birthday fairy could found me here?” Margaux questioned, her eyes full of hope. Charlie couldn’t help but smile, not even bothering to correct her words, as he placed the pan down.

“Should we go find out?” He asked. Margaux’s eyes widened in excitement.

“Yeah! But first we have to get Papa.” She decided. Charlie nodded.

“You wanna go wake him up? Tell him we made him some pancakes?” He asked, and Margaux grinned, already sliding out of her chair.

“Okay Daddy!” She replied, before rushing out of the room. The room fell silent for a few moments before Carolynn cleared her throat.

“So Charlie...” She raised an eyebrow. “How long have you been in love with Owen?” 

Charlie choked on his coffee. 

“I’m sorry, what?” He spluttered. Carolynn grinned. 

“You heard me.” She said. Charlie hesitated. 

“I’m not-” He stopped. “I-” 

He groaned. There was no use denying it if clearly he was obvious enough that his friends had figured him out.

“Since filming.” He admitted. Carolynn cheered. 

“You owe me $20.” She told her husband, who glared at Charlie. 

“You just had to admit it, huh?” Jeremy shook his head, and Charlie shrugged, a small smile on his face.

“Admit what?” Owen’s voice came from behind them, deep from sleep, and Charlie took a sip of his coffee to try to distract himself. Owen always looked good but in the early morning light, his hair still a mess from sleeping, he looked ethereal. Charlie bit his lip to stop himself from staring.

“Nothing important.” Carolynn replied, and Charlie shot her a thankful look. 

“Can we see if the birthday fairy visited now?” Margaux sighed, clearly impatient. They all laughed. 

“Of course baby.” Charlie told her, standing up. He grabbed the plate of pancakes he had made for Owen, handing them to the younger boy as he passed him. 

Margaux lead the way to the living area where Kenny and Tori were already sat waiting, squealing with excitement when she saw the small pile of presents on the table.

“They came!” She exclaimed, and Charlie couldn’t help but smile, ruffling her hair affectionately.

Margaux settled down on the couch as everyone spread out around the room, and one by one she opened the presents, eyes widening with excitement at every single one. 

Charlie had gotten her a few dolls that he knew she had been wanting, plus some new clothes, books and other toys. 

Jeremy and Carolynn had gotten her a small paint set with a Frozen paint by numbers. 

Kenny had gotten her a tiny version of the Sunset Curve shirt that the cast had all received. 

Tori had gotten her a little lilac tutu. 

Madi, Jadah and Savannah had sent their presents, some handmade earrings, little stud versions of the ghost drawings that Carolynn had created from Madi, a small pair of overalls from Savannah, and a colouring book from Jadah.

But her absolute favourite gift had come from Owen, a tan coloured bear from Build-A-Bear that he had dressed like Luke, and the clothes to change the bear into Reggie, Alex and Julie if she wanted to. 

After hugs all round the group decided to go their own ways, with Kenny heading off to spend the day relaxing, and Tori, Jeremy and Carolynn going to the beach to sunbathe since Carolynn’s flight had been delayed. 

“Where do you want to go today birthday girl?” Charlie asked, as he and Owen collected the pile of gifts to move them back to their room.

Margaux frowned in thought, the bear still grasped in her arms.

“Hiking.” She decided, and Charlie laughed. She was definitely his daughter.

“You sure? We can do whatever you want to do.” He checked. Margaux nodded, her attention focused on her new clothes that Charlie had placed on the bed to fold later. 

“I’m sure.” She said, reaching for the Sunset Curve shirt and overalls. “Can I wear this?”

“Of course you can.” Charlie agreed. 

“I’m gonna have a quick shower.” Owen said, grabbing some clothes out of his bag. Charlie nodded, focused on helping Margaux change out of her pyjamas into her new clothes.

“Do you think we can have some time tonight just you and me?” Charlie asked once Margaux was dressed, moving to grab her hairbrush and some hair ties.

“Yes please Daddy.” Margaux agreed, sitting on the edge of the bed as Charlie sat behind her.

“We could go get dinner just the two of us, and then come back here for birthday cake.” He suggested. Margaux frowned, clearly thinking. 

“Is it chocolate cake?” She asked after a moment, and Charlie paused from brushing her hair to kiss the top of her head. 

“You’ll have to wait and see.” He teased. Charlie finished tying her hair up into two little space buns, not quite proper buns but as close as he could get with her shortish hair.

“I hope it’s chocolate cake. I love chocolate cake.” She giggled, standing up on the bed and turning around to hug her father. Charlie wrapped his arms around her, a gesture that was so safe and familiar. 

“Me too baby, me too.” He agreed. Margaux snuggled her head into his shoulder. 

“Is Papa coming hiking?” She questioned. Charlie grinned to himself. 

“Do you want him to come?” He asked. Margaux didn’t even hesitate. 

“Yes.”

“Then I’m sure he’d love to come.” Charlie assured her. She pulled away. looking him in the eyes. Charlie had always loved that she had gotten his eyes. 

“Do I ask him?” She said, eyes wide. Charlie struggled to contain a laugh at how serious she looked. 

“When he comes back, yeah.” He nodded. 

“When who comes back?” Owen asked, re-entering the room. Margaux jumped up, throwing herself at the 20 year old. He lifted her up with no hesitation. 

“Are you gonna come hiking?” Margaux asked, her bottom lip jutting out in a pleading way. 

“Of course I am. Wouldn’t want to miss spending time with my two favourite people.” Owen grinned, kissing her nose causing her to giggle. Charlie’s heart skipped a beat at the declaration that he was one of Owen’s favourite people. 

“Yay! Can we go now?” Margaux turned in Owen’s arms to face her father. He nodded, standing up from the bed. 

“Shoes, and then we can go.” He said, and Margaux squirmed her way out of Owen’s arms to go find her running shoes. 

Charlie exchanged a look with Owen, the both of them thinking the same thing. 

It was going to be a long day. 

- 

Hiking with a just turned four year old was exhausting, even despite them choosing the easiest possible trail so that she wouldn’t have any issues.

It was fine at first, Margaux excitedly looking at the plants and trying to spot any animals in the trees, but after about twenty minutes she got bored and tired, and Charlie and Owen spent the rest of the hike passing her back and forth between the two of them.

Finally they made it back to the villa, and after a quick stop for lunch Margaux was recharged and ready for the rest of the day.

“Can we swim?” She asked. Charlie nodded.

“We’ll go and get changed, and then we can go in the pool for a while until we have to get ready for dinner, okay?” He suggested. 

“Okay Daddy.” Margaux smiled sweetly. 

-

After quickly changing into their swimmers, Charlie, Margaux and Owen ended up in the pool, Jeremy and Carolynn lounging nearby. 

They swam for a few hours until Margaux got thirsty, and with a promise of apple juice she and Charlie climbed out of the pool leaving Owen to go sit with the Shada’s. 

Charlie walked inside the villa, finding Kenny sat at the kitchen bench reading while Tori lounged on one of the couches, staring at her phone. 

“Why don’t we do cake now, so that you don’t have to worry about rushing home?” Kenny spoke up, as Charlie manoeuvred through the kitchen to get the apple juice out, Margaux clinging to his chest like a baby koala. 

“That’s a good idea. Do you want to do your birthday cake now Mags?” Charlie asked his daughter, pouring her some apple juice. She sipped on the juice, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

“Yeah!” She exclaimed. Charlie smiled. 

“Okay, can you go get Papa, Aunty Care and Uncle Jer for me?” He asked, placing her down. She nodded eagerly, handing her cup of juice to him before rushing outside to where Owen, Jeremy and Carolynn were still sat.

Charlie grabbed the cake out of the fridge and placed it on the bench, before putting the four candles in, and grabbing a lighter.

“Have you seen my camera Kenny?” He asked, and Kenny just pointed to the end of the bench where the camera was sitting. Charlie smiled gratefully, grabbing the camera.

“Want me to take photos?” Tori offered, and Charlie nodded, handing her the camera. 

Margaux re-entered the room, Owen and the Shada’s following close behind her, and when she reached her father he lifted her up. Kenny took the lighter, lighting the candles on the cake and together they sung Happy Birthday to Margaux, Tori snapping photos as the four year old blew out her candles. 

Charlie held Margaux close to him as Kenny divided the cake up, thankful that he had such an amazing family to spend his little girl’s birthday with. 

-

When Charlie and Margaux made it back to the villa after their dinner that night, the newly four year old was ready to fall asleep. Charlie carried her to bed, silently thanking his past self for deciding to give her a bath and do her birthday cake before they went to dinner because now all he had to do was change her into her pyjamas. 

He changed her quickly seeing that she was almost asleep, and tucked her into the bed. 

“Did you have a good birthday baby?” Charlie asked softly, settling down next to his daughter.

Margaux just nodded in response. 

“That’s good.” Charlie ran a hand through her curls. “Goodnight baby girl.” 

“Big girl.” Margaux mumbled sleepily. Charlie smiled, leaning down and kissing her head. 

“You might be a big girl now but you’ll always be my baby girl.” He whispered. “I love you.” 

“I love you too Daddy.” Margaux replied, her eyes already shut and her arms wrapped tightly around her new bear. Charlie stood up slowly and headed to the door, leaving it open a crack for a little bit of light to shine in. 

He paused for a moment, just taking in the reality that Margaux was already four years old, and that she was growing up too fast. With one last look at the door he made his way down the hallway and outside to where he knew Owen was waiting. 

“She’s asleep.” He announced, flopping down on the outdoor sofa next to Owen. 

“I’m not shocked, she’s had a big day.” Owen replied, handing Charlie a cold beer that he had clearly gotten for him. Charlie took it thankfully, taking a large swig. 

“Can you believe that she’s four already? It feels like she was only just born and I was waking up to find out that her mother was gone and that it was only me and her. It was terrifying at the time, but looking back I wouldn’t change it for the world.” He rambled. Owen rested his head on Charlie’s shoulder and Charlie wrapped his arm around the younger boy, pulling him closer.

“You should be proud of yourself Char. You’ve done an amazing job.” Owen complimented, snuggling closer to Charlie as he took a mouthful of his beer.

“You think so?” Charlie questioned. Owen nodded against his shoulder.

“I know so.” He sat up. “Margaux is the most well behaved kid I’ve ever met, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her misbehave once in all the time I’ve known her. She’s an amazing kid and it’s all because she has the most amazing father.”

“Thank you.” Charlie whispered, suddenly realising how close Owen was to him. He could feel Owen’s warm breath on his lips, and he found himself leaning in, the urge to kiss Owen overtaking his entire being. His lips brushed against Owen’s ever so slightly, but before they could properly commit to the kiss they were interrupted. 

“Hey, we’re gonna play...” Tori’s voice came and they jumped apart quickly. She trailed off, eyeing them carefully. “Were you two about to kiss?”

Charlie cleared his throat. Owen’s eyes widened.

“Uh... no?” Owen lied. Tori shot them a suspicious look but clearly decided against pushing.

“Right... well we’re gonna play Cards Against Humanity if you want to join us.” She told them, before turning and heading back inside. Neither Charlie nor Owen moved, the silence was deafening. Finally Owen spoke.

“Sorry.” He muttered quickly, before standing up and rushing inside. Charlie groaned, watching him leave, the feeling of Owen’s lips still lingering on his own.

“Fuck.” He sighed, downing the last of his beer before standing up to join the rest of the group inside.

He would have to deal with the Owen situation later.

[makerbound]

♛ fill in the blanks | fluff otp edition

Cassandra & Margaux Hawke

Who’s more likely to find who wearing their clothes?: Cassandra finds Hawke trying on her leather-padded armor once. It doesn’t fit. She’s too small. She looks ridiculous, and Cassandra laughs. Hawke laughs. 

Who initiates hand holding?: They both do; Hawke tends to do it more frequently, especially in public places.

Who likes having their hair washed by who?: Cassandra is a sucker for getting her hair washed. (Reminder that my Cassandra wears her hair long.)

Who likes to slow dance?: Definitely not Cassandra…unless in private. In private, it’s fine, but not where people are watching, Maker forbid.

Muse that’s more likely to fall asleep with their head in the others lap?: Hawke. Cassandra can’t fall asleep on other people; part of her would always stay on alert because she expects them to move. 

Muse that does all the cuddling in a blanket fort?: Hawke…

Who hogs most of the covers at night?: Hawke…if at all. Cassandra might notice but doesn’t care much, unless it’s a really cold night.

Muse who nuzzles the others shoulder to get them to give them a head rub?: Hawke. 

How do they share a desert? Two forks or one?: Whatever’s available; if there’s two forks on the table, then they use them, if there’s only one, then they share. If there’s none, then that’s fine too. 

Who gets jealous more easily?: Neither of them are the jealous type. They’ve seen too much of the world for that, or at least that’s Cassandra’s line of reasoning.

Who gets angered more easily?: Cassandra, but hoo boy, once Hawke’s reached her boiling point, you don’t want to mess with her. Cassandra learnt that early on because their first interactions where beyond tense. 

How do they go to sleep at night?: Independent of each other, usually, although they both try and stay awake until the other joins them.

Who gets the most shoulder rubs?: Cassandra; blame the armor.

What are there arguments/fights like? How often do they fight?: It’s rarely full-blown fights and more like bickering, teasing, maybe a day of tension.

Who is more likely to throw things in fights?: Probably Hawke.

How do they make it up to each other/apologize after an argument?: Cassandra isn’t the best with apologies, so she’ll try to say it without words: be extra attentive, leave little gifts for Hawke to find, stuff like that. 

Do they have nicknames for each other?: Cassandra sometimes calls her Margaux in private. It’s so rare it almost counts as a nickname, and it does feel intimate somehow.

Caring for each other while ill, how does the other muse go about it?: Extra attention, little gifts, shoulder rubs.

Who’s more likely to be patching the others wound?: Battle basics: Don’t go out without a healer mage. 

Muse that says ‘I told you so’, after they come home from the beach and other muse is burnt to a crisp while whining how bad it hurts for not listening and putting on sunblock after the other muse repeatedly told them they’d get burnt?: Cassandra.

Your otp has a newborn baby, who gets up in the middle of the night when he/she cries?: Cassandra would probably fret more, but that’s a hypothetical question; given her age and time-consuming work, she would be reluctant to take in a newborn baby to care for.

Your muse’s of the otp reaction to finding the others crying about something? And how do they make them feel better?: She asks what’s wrong, wants a full description and explanation, and then offers unsolicited advice until Hawke tells her to shut up. 

What would they be like as parents?: Easy, doting, with clearly distinct roles: Hawke would be the jokester mom, the one a child would do mischief with or come to first to fess up when they need to. Cassandra is the stricter one, which also makes her the one the children would reach out to when they’re in need of reassurance. 

What would they have been like as childhood sweethearts?: Probably not much different than now; although a lot of things have changed in Cassandra’s life, her approach to romance and love haven’t.

Who initiates taking a bath together?: Hawke.

Who likes who playing with their hair?: Hawke, probably – Cassandra lets her braid it when she wants to.

The place they mostly likely accidentally fall asleep together?: The Skyhold bannister when they’re sitting up there, leaning against them to watch the sky and talk about every random thing they can think of.

meme tagged: @archontem  tagging: whoever reads this, feel free to tag me to see your post! uvu

[autobusinessandfinance-blog]

5 Things You Must Do to Successfully Launch a Business

The exertion required to dispatch another endeavor can appear to be overwhelming. Obviously, points of interest change dependent on the sort of business you're setting up; producers face one of a kind difficulties, as do retailers and counseling firms. Be that as it may, when you have your idea and your funds in line, there are a few essentials that are widespread.

We chatted with entrepreneurs, advisors and teachers to come down the minimum essentials of getting a startup off the ground into a bunch of reasonable advances. Apply these essentials to your own industry, and you'll be prepared to handle the points of interest of making your fruitful business.

1. Approve your thought.

Einas Ibrahim, originator of Talem Advisory, a New York City startup consultancy, says the greatest error she sees new business visionaries make is beginning to take a shot at a business thought before affirming that there is market request. In the event that your startup plans to sell a gadget the world has never observed, ensure the world, truth be told, needs your gadget. Maybe it doesn't exist yet in light of the fact that nobody needs it. In the event that it is required, at that point ensure the world is happy to pay for it.

"Try not to take a shot at the business until you've approved the thought," Ibrahim says. "Ensure there's a market. Ensure it's what the client needs. Some of the time the business person's vision doesn't adjust appropriately with what clients need."

Statistical surveying demonstrates particularly basic for new companies with huge dreams. In case you're intending to turn into a billion-dollar business, find a way to guarantee that the market can fulfill your yearnings.

"Business visionaries locate this out after they begin conversing with financial specialists," Ibrahim says. "The thought may be sound, however it may be too little to even consider becoming fundable by an expert speculator, or by blessed messengers or investors. On the off chance that the entire market is under $500 million, it won't be advantageous for a financial speculator to finance you."

2. Shore up your arrangement and spending plan.

Indeed, even the best field-tested strategies go amiss. Fruitful new companies will expect the unforeseen - and have an answer prepared for it.

"Have an arrangement for how the business will be run," says Leonard Green, originator and director of The Green Group, a New Jersey-based bookkeeping, counseling and assessment firm, and enterprise educator at Babson College. "It's a type of settling on choices before you need to decide."

Those choices should extend from your startup's central goal to its business structure (LLC, sole ownership, S Corporation) and remuneration strategy.

When planning startup money needs, accept your business will create zero income for the main year, Green says. "Commonly when you have deals, you don't have accumulations for a couple of months," he includes. "Despite everything you need to cover lease, utilities, stock, pay rates and advancement."

3. Manufacture the correct group.

Maybe the most basic advance in the development of your startup is amassing a group that functions admirably together and can convey the merchandise. "Numerous great business visionaries are ordinarily connectors of individuals, so they have solid systems, which puts them at a quick favorable position," notes Mark Coopersmith, a long-lasting tech business visionary and senior individual at the University of California, Berkeley's Haas School of Business.

Your colleagues need to share your thoughts regarding how the business ought to be run. "The vital component here is that business enterprise is a group activity," Cooper-smith says. "Construct the group early, and fabricate it around shared qualities. In such a case that you expedite workers and accomplices and you concur upon normal qualities, you can utilize those qualities to come to choices."

Coopersmith summons the late Peter Drucker, the administration master who 60 years prior composed that partnerships have just two center capacities: promoting and advancement. At the end of the day, organizations exist to assemble and sell item. "I would guarantee my group contains those two ranges of abilities," he says.

Also, you need a group that is even minded and ready to cooperate when challenges escape hand. Plunk down with basic colleagues and plan for all possibilities. "What occurs if your accomplice ends up incapacitated? Wiped out? Separated?" Green inquires. "Or then again all of a sudden the business does inadequately, and now we need to go to a bank? You must choose those things in advance, with the goal that it's not you or me, yet it's us."

4. Set up an emotionally supportive network.

The business visionary's voyage can appear to be a single journey. Be that as it may, before you leave on such a voyage, you have to ensure your friends and family have your back. Truth be told, it's basic to your enthusiastic wellbeing - and to the strength of your organization.

"I generally state it takes a town to raise a startup," says Margaux Guerard, prime supporter and CMO of Memi, a firm touting wearable innovation intended for ladies. "As a business visionary, you can't do this by itself. You need the psychological and passionate help of your loved ones to enable you to face the hardship."

Guerard left her activity as chief of advertising at Diane von Furstenberg to begin Memi with her colleague, Leslie Pierson, in 2012. Her first enterprising endeavor has been a nonstop hurricane - energizing, baffling, fulfilling and irritating, here and there all around the same time. She depends on her friends and family to help keep her on track.

"I consider myself to be being the supporter of the organization," Guerard says. "At the point when everybody is stating 'no,' I'm putting my tufts on and saying 'truly, truly, yes' as loud as possible. When I'm feeling disappointed and pitiful and beat up, some days I need assistance doing that. Who do I depend on? My family, my companions, my better half."

5. React to input and refine your model.

At the point when Bayard Winthrop imagined his idea to fabricate an American-made hoodie, he furnished several potential clients in models and asked them what they thought. How did the texture feel? Is it safe to say that it was excessively harsh? Excessively delicate? Too clingy?

Without requesting such nitty gritty criticism from your in all likelihood clients, says Winthrop, author and leader of San Francisco-based American Giant, you'll can't be sure whether your thought is a decent one. "We did everything from putting symbolism up on the site to making 100 sweatshirts and getting them into individuals' hands," he says.

American Giant, which propelled in 2012, has been credited with reconsidering every last bit of the omnipresent hoodie. Before the organization propelled, Winthrop got some information about all parts of the article of clothing: the sleeves, the fit, the hood, even the zipper. The texture alone took a half year to adjust.

"In our specific, slender universe of sweatshirts, understanding that privilege resembles preparing an extraordinary supper," Winthrop says. "That required getting it onto backs and approaching individuals what they would pay for it."

Criticism drove doctor Mitesh Patel, prime supporter of Docphin, to change his innovation. He structured his stage to help medicinal services experts get quick access to research articles distributed in therapeutic diaries. The accentuation was on quick.

However, the site's underlying enrollment procedure demonstrated unwieldy, driving many disappointed clients to log off. Docphin downsized, posed less inquiries of first-time clients and diminished the normal sign-up time to two minutes. Clients returned by the thousand. Today Docphin serves 500 emergency clinics across the country.

"For us," Patel says, "it was tied in with discovering what is the estimation of the end client, and how might you get them to accomplish that incentive as fast as could be expected under the circumstances. What we found was the genuine esteem was speed."

For startup business people, the need to always tinker with the business never closes. "You have dependably got the chance to consider how you can change whatever you need to make it surprisingly better," says David Rush, fellow benefactor and CEO of Earshot, a Chicago-based organization that enables organizations to secure new clients through web-based social networking. Surge's underlying endeavor was an application called Evzdrop that enabled outsiders in a similar area to speak with each other. Clients disclosed to Rush they needed to have the option to get to all the more broadly utilized informal organizations. Seeing a superior business opportunity, he turned, and in October 2013, Evzdrop moved toward becoming Earshot.

"You must be intensely mindful of what the information are letting you know and what you can find out about either your aggressive scene or the market you're attempting to serve or the issues you're attempting to unravel," Rush says. "It's a nonstop item. That is no joke."

[watermarginhk-blog]

Thriving in The Orient

FICTION

Ever since their fall from grace into middle class, Mum’s temper had quickened and the tallies marking her lips had grown to outnumber the ones around her eyes. Wilhelmina had suggested some creams, but Mum was in denial.

“Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to Hong Kong,” says a man with a funny accent. “It is a safety requirement that you remain seated yada yada yada. Yada yada yada, on behalf of Captain Darryl and my team, thank you for flying Cathay Pacific and enjoy your stay in Hong Kong. Goodbye!”

Wilhelmina, or Willa as her friends back in Grimsby call her, has butterflies. As in she has literally hidden a jar of dead butterflies, cleverly wrapped in a scarf, in her bag. What if they stop her at customs?

She’ll probably breeze through. They eat turtles and frogs here for crying out loud.

Plus, she is wearing her rose quartz choker. Willa chants a long ooommmmm in her head and shivers as it reverberates through every chakra of her body. She smiles and bows to the flight attendant, who smiles back at her wearily. It had been a long flight.

* * *

Two months into her new position teaching English at a Youth College for disadvantaged youths in the New Territories and Willa is ready to hop on a plane to Bali. Or Laos. Or Vietnam. She has been dreaming of Angkor Wat since her best mate back home Constance Jane returned from her Asia trip eyes wide skin red and peeling like an apple under hot water. She’d told Willa about a tiger-breeding monk who had taken her under his wing for a day and opened her third eye during a short ceremony she couldn’t clearly recall.

The week after, Willa’s ex-boyfriend Colin, who graduated the year before with a 2:2 in English Literature, same as Willa, got back from his teaching job slash gap year in Hong Kong.

When he asked her out for coffee, she knew it was an omen. A symbol from the Creator that she should explore her options in Asia. Career-wise. The guys there were a bit on the short side for her liking, but her good friend Laura had written in her weekly newsletter that her Chinese boyfriend worshipped her like some kind of goddess, and especially loved her hair, which was blonde. She’d made a pact with herself after she and Colin’s mutual break up over Skype, anyway.

Willa thinks about asking Margaux, one of the other female NET teachers, about travelling together at the next Bank Holiday weekend. Margaux is French and has Rosemary’s Baby hair. At lunchtime, Willa goes downstairs to ask the quiet receptionist girl, whose name is either Vicky, Kathy or Fanny, where Margaux’s classroom is.

“Upstairs the second floor, Room 15,” says Vicky or Kathy or Fanny. “Thanks,” says Willa, and dutifully inclines her head.

“Margieee hiyaaaa!!! Want to grab a dim sum after work?” she asks, swinging from the doorway, a bit like Pocahontas from a tree.

Margaux whirls around. She’s wearing fluorescent orange eyeshadow today.

“Mais yes, sounds délicieux—but s’il vous plait never call me with that name again uh?” she rasps with a sophisticated wrinkle of the nose.

Willa’s cheeks itch and Margaux turns back to her monitor.

She was only trying to be friendly.

“Brilliant!!! Meet you there at six, Margaux!!!” she warbles and turning to leave, almost trips over a small child. Quiet as ghosts, these children. Like their parents are training them up as ninjas or something. Even more disturbing is when there’s thirty of them staring vacantly at the whiteboard after being asked a seemingly obvious question, like how to conjugate a verb to match plural nouns.

She is dreading next class. Maybe, if she’s lucky, the ring leader will have caught that nasty stomach bug that’s been going around. Maybe the back row girl gang won’t threaten her life today.

She had taken this job at the Youth College, despite it being farther out, because four days into her initial job at St. Margaret Teresa Catherine’s Royal Kindergarten, she'd realised she hated young children, actually, because they were annoying little cunts who snotted everywhere and never listened no matter how many times she shouted for them to sit down.

The older the better, she had mistakenly thought, but it seems Asian kids only have two settings. Dead loud or dead silent.

As soon as her last student fucks off out the door, Willa packs her bag, checks her lipstick and virtually flees the school. Today is one of those days she questions her very impulsive decision to move thousands of miles away from the comforts of home to a foreign country where barely anyone knows any English. Did these people learn nothing from the Brits?

* * *

There’s no queue outside Dim Sum Palace, which is not its real name, but it sounds good on her blog and the name stuck. It’s usually quiet at this time, which is confusing, because don’t Chinese people eat dinner too? She approaches the pinch-faced hostess and holds up two fingers. Leng gow, she mouths, meaning two people in Chinese. The hostess looks bemused and smiles at her as a mama bear would smile at a sweet little rabbit in the woods.

Twenty-two minutes late, Margaux shows up with Nina. And Marty. Of course.

Margaux undulates into one of the chairs at the next table, Nina and Marty either side of her. Seeing the p-d off look on Willa’s face, Margaux grins.

“Willa cherie don’t look so angry uh? The more the merrier non?”

She crooks her finger and Willa comes to sit.

They order the usual ha gow (shrimp dumplings), sew moy (pork dumplings), cha sow bow (roast pork buns), low pak gow (fried turnip cake). Marty insists on steamed chickens feet because he wants to “expand his horizons.”

“Your wife not doing it for you lately?” Willa asks.

“Well as you know Willa my wife just gave birth hey and look I hope this won’t put off your appetite guys but as you know guys I don’t do well with all this lady stuff right and when I come back in the room after her you know Scisserion right you know where they snip the belly open right because what with me being a Westerner and all the baby would’ve got stuck or something so they handed me the baby and I said guys I said no right I mean come on that thing came out of my wife’s……like it was covered in blood and piss and shit before they wiped it I mean what were they expecting me to do here right?”

Nina frowns at her tea.

“But Marty you are le papa de bébé non? Why don’t you want to ‘old ‘er?” Margaux asks.

Before he can spring to self-defend, steaming baskets of pungent dim sum appear on the lazy susan. Everyone deploys their chopsticks as best they can and the wait staff try not to laugh.

* * *

An hour later, Willa is home and scanning the fridge. She’s still hungry from dinner because actually, she finds Chinese food abhorrently bad, and Marty’s story about his wife’s placenta or whatever really did put her off her appetite. But she wants point 28 on her “Things You Should Know About China Before You Move” list to sound authentic. Readers can intuit lies, so she always does the things she writes about so she can’t be called out.

She settles on the Quinoa Egg and Baby Spinach Protein Boost Pot she bought from M&S last week. Definitely worth the $30 it cost for the thirty minute cab ride home.

“Willababes is that you? Could you grab a beer for me while you’re at it please?” shouts Colin from the living room.

Willa reaches for the last Kronenbourg. Behind it is a small velvet box. The kind they keep rings in. She drops the can and it explodes across the kitchen.

“Nevermind that, love. We’ll get the cleaner to mop it up tomorrow,” says Colin from behind her.

He’s down on one knee.

Willa squeals and throws herself onto him, knocking him over onto the wet floor. They lie kissing in the beer puddle until the doorbell chimes off-key Für Elise.

“Don’t you want to get that, babes?” asks Colin, nuzzling the bindi on her forehead.

Willa can hear giggling behind the door. She gets up to answer it, thankful that the Chinese prefer tiles to carpet.

“CONGRATULATIONS MRS COLLINSON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Constance Jane, Mum, Laura, Margaux, Nina and Marty are grinning ear to ear, waving streamers and blowing party horns.

Willa pulls out her phone and snaps a picture for her blog.

[juliathinksaboutpop]

Week 9: Sheila Heti and How Should a Person Be Edited?

It doesn’t matter whether they’re from Beverly Hills, New York City, or Atlanta, ‘real housewives’ of every city have come forward to express their disdain for manipulative editing in the pursuit of good reality television. 

In one instance, Jill Zarin from the Real Housewives of New York City told People Magazine: 

Those words coming out of my mouth don't match the audio track. I was talking to a producer on the side and they put my words in my mouth and I didn't like that. 

- Aaron Parsley, ‘Real Housewives of New York Premiere: Has Jill Zarin Changed?’, People (September 2016), http://people.com/tv/real-housewives-of-new-york-jill-zarin-has-she-changed

For Margaux, the protagonist’s best friend in Sheila Heti’s novel, How Should a Person Be?, being taken out of context in the manner claimed by Zarin is a fear realized. When protagonist, named after the author, attempts to record their conservation, Margaux expresses some serious anxiety about the tape recorder: 

Don’t you know what I fear most is my words floating separate from my body? 

[...]

I don’t know where things end up! Then whatever I happen to say, someone will believe I really said it and meant it? No. No. You there with that tape recorder just looks like my own death. 

- Sheila Heti, How Should a Person Be?, ( London: Vintage, 2014), p. 60

Later in the book, we come to understand why she feels this way: 

I once had a friend in art school, who I shared a studio with. She ran away to become a Buddhist and to live in a Buddhist colony in Colorado. She had been a painter, too, but when I went to visit her, she was just painting pretty colors on the insides of the temples that only the rich people who had reached the highest spiritual plane could see. 

- Heti, p. 177

I always thought that would never be me. Following Margaux’s train of thought, it seems she believes that once her words are recorded, documented verbatim, that she would be somehow stuck to them, stagnant and lifeless, a false icon, like the Buddha she draws to represent herself, chained to signify a certain zenith of morals and meanings, when her version of how to be a person is being able to constantly be distracted away from being any fixed person – a state of unconscious fluidity that stumbles upon and creates new meanings. When she equates the potential meaning of a plain brick wall over a masterpiece, Margaux suggests to us the importance of the mundane, the opportunity for the kind of valuable distraction to happen. Through her script and e-mail formats, Heti is able to do just that. She shapes a kind of aimless banality that is inspired by reality television, one of which she’s mentioned in a couple of interviews, The Hills.

The Hills (2006 – 2010) was a reality show about a group of girlfriends-ish (most of the time) in Los Angeles who maneuvered through their careers, love lives, and general social scene in front of the camera. Below is a typical strain of conversation in the show:

These seemingly dull talk goes back and forth between the characters when they’re not spewing fiery gossip or fighting with each other, which often seems like their conversation is floating, without real purpose or anchor to their surroundings. To Interview magazine, Heti said of the show:

…I didn't understand the rules. On the first season of The Hills, it was really weird—I mean, by the end it just became silly. But I hadn't seen anything like it, and I didn't understand what was going on. 

- Jackie Linton, ‘Sheila Heti’s Hysterical Realism’, Interview (June 2012), http://www.interviewmagazine.com/culture/sheila-heti-how-should-a-person-be/#_

Heti embraced this confusion and gave her characters in the novel her interpretation of the reality television treatment. By stitching together different formats side by side, she manages to float conversations above their settings. The script and e-mail forms are shaped as such that there is a spatial disjunct in comparison with dense sections of prose allows for the conversation to isolate itself. Rather than brush off ‘real’ talk as dull, Heti highlights them to put emphasis on the pure linguistic effect humans have on each other. How we transform each other by trading, absorbing, and negotiating each other’s signs and meanings, just like reality television producer’s do with the material their characters give them. Though with an added mediating layer of technology, the editing on reality television seems to be just another form of conversation. And though we don’t always come off the ideal way, and it feels like a part of our soul has been “sould” (Heti, p. 5), giving up an essential part of their friendship as material for artistic commodity doesn’t end up being Sheila’s tragic flaw, because just like The Hills, there will always be another day, another episode in life to say something else, to have another conversation, to figure out a different self with different rules. The bigger sin would be to stop creating, which is why Margaux gets over her fear and pushes Sheila to finish her work. Even though it poses such a question as its title, this novel isn’t a morality play or a step-by-step guidebook. Neither Sheila or Margaux end up being completely right about anything, but as Jon points out at the end, “I don’t think they even know the rules. I think they’re just slamming the ball around.” Mistakes are made. Let’s move on with another conversation.

[ecotone99]

[RF] Foodie (~4500 words)

Warning: Contains some violence, as well as swearing and some mention of sex. I don't think this is very risqué, but I submitted it recently for a creative writing class. Most students liked it, but one guy thought I should've warned people before they read it. So I'm erring on the side of caution.

Also, some may consider this horror. I do not, and so I didn't tag it as such.

​

Foodie

Carol Wilkenson was a foodie. It was a title she wore with pride, the way other women her age might casually mention that they or their spouse were chiropractors or paralegals. Tell me about yourself, Doug had asked on their first date. Her answer was as obvious as it was immediate.

It was their twentieth anniversary. Carol marked it on the calendar in bold red sharpie, her mouth turning into a cheshire grin as she X’ed out the box. Today was not going to be just another Wednesday. Today there would be romance. Today there would be sex—and not just of the five minute variety. Today there would be a wonderful dinner, prepared by Carol, as she had nearly every night since her honeymoon. And perhaps most importantly: today she would cook not out of habit or familial obligation, as had happened every afternoon for the past few years, but with that elusive magic ingredient her mother always told her about: love. That invisible spice that makes everything smell; taste; feel more vibrant and linger in your memory for years after it happened; playing like a tableau vivant in your mouth. The spice that had for so long been scarce was ready to be recaptured.

Doug joined her for breakfast. He picked up the sports section. And said:

“Good news: the Bills are making the playoffs.”

She smiled. She thought he was joking. Then, he courteously thanked her for breakfast, as he had every day since their honeymoon, tightened his tie, and walked cheerily out the door.

It was only after the screen door screeched to a halt that Carol realized she had broken her honey dipper. Its neck lay strangled in two pieces, one of which bit into her palm. Some of her blood mixed with the honey remaining from Doug’s cursory oatmeal.

“Oh dear.”

Carol sucked on her palm (the honey and blood made it sweet and salty, like some exotic fruit), threw the honey dipper in the trash, and washed her hands, careful not to drive the few remaining splinters further into her skin. She bandaged the wound. Then, she woke up Meg and sent her off to school. Carol insisted that her daughter eat some kind of nutritious breakfast, but she only settled for the desultory Honey Bunches of Oats.

She wished Meg would eat more out of her comfort zone. But Meg did not share her adventurous spirit. A few years ago they had a trip to Bangkok for something involving Doug’s work. Carol didn’t remember exactly what. Doug brought the family along, which made it an exciting opportunity for Meg to learn about other cultures and imbue in her a love of food. But whatever they ordered (on big communal platters, common for Asian restaurants), no matter how exotic or mundane, Meg took one bite, slid her plate back, and said “I’m good.” And Doug was somehow worse; she shuddered to think of the memory.

“Have a good day!” she called out to the bus, which was patiently waiting with its STOP sign extended like an enthusiastic middle finger. Meg didn’t look back.

Carol hung her head and busied herself in the kitchen. It was still her anniversary, and she and Doug would have the best goddarn dinner the two of them ever had. And they’ve had many excellent meals. In Venetion diners and Parisian cafes. Black risotto and escargot. Frog legs and couscous. Cajun food that upset Doug’s stomach so much that he couldn’t handle a second bite. All the organic, orgasmic food they ate in all the wonderful, envious places they traveled. Before she made a pitstop in her local Walgreens. And that little plastic stick showed two lines, not one.

They stopped traveling and settled down. They couldn’t raise a kid on the go, in cramped hotel rooms and seedy bathroom changing stations. Still, Carol had loved her career as a photojournalist. It took her to all the places where the best cuisine was hiding. Some of her work was pretty well reviewed too, making waves in the small and esoteric community of photojournalism.

But that wasn’t compatible with a child. The last interesting thing she ate—interesting and good, not the Arbys that gave her food poisoning—was her daughter’s placenta. It was mostly made of blood cells, and was entirely tasteless. She finished it more for curiosity’s sake than enjoyment factor, but it only made her long for the savory, dramatic dishes of years past. As she had sat there, unenthusiastically consuming, she felt like a cow that chews its own cud. Then, there was Doug, who had walked into the kitchen at just the wrong time. He saw the placenta, opened from its styrofoam box that the hospital sent home, per her request, like a perverse McDonalds Happy Meal. Then, he had made a face—the same fucking face—as Bangkok.

Her daughter’s bowl shattered against the fridge.

“Fuck you!” she screamed at the picture of Doug, pinned with a magnet and now soaking in spilled milk. Like the milk puddling on the pool, regret immediately seeped in.

“Oh, God. I didn’t mean it.”

Unconsciously, she bit the back of her hand. Chewing it, testing the muscles and tendons as her fingers flexed. It was an unconscious habit of hers, like Meg when she bit her nails or Doug when he pulled at his tie. She never bit too deeply, just massaged the back of her hand with her teeth. Feeling her teeth grind across the heel of her hand, fleshy as a ripe apple and underlain with tendons taut like piano wire. Her habit was a strange one, but not unheard of. She figured it was the same self-affirming way an infant sucked its thumb; built from a natural yearn to find comfort using the only means at its disposal.

She heard that fingers snap with the same strength it takes to crack a baby carrot. It was an interesting thought: that such a precious instrument, the nimble and adroit hand, could break so easily. Dipped in hummus and eaten like just another Super Bowl dish. She wondered, fleetingly yet not for the first time, what human tastes like.

It was surprising that she didn’t already know. Over the years, she had sampled a king’s ransom of dishes. On her trip to Venezuela, building houses for those displaced in Hurricane Isidore, she was offered local meals from the grateful inhabitants: goat’s blood and guinea pig, the first of which was customary, the latter of which was a delicacy. She gratefully accepted both. Neither was particularly good, but at least she tried them, and that was the ethos of being a foodie, she had explained to Doug. Five years later, they went to the New York State Fair. Doug, hungry and unwilling to wait for their reservations at Le Pamplemousse, a fancy french restaurant twenty minutes from the fairground, bought a stick of fried butter. He offered her half. When she refused, he educated her on the ethos of being a foodie. She chewed. She swallowed.

In a moment of curiosity, she turned to Google for answers. What does human taste like?

After fifteen minutes of patient scrolling and several clickbaity headlines, she found out that humans tasted, strangely enough, like pork. You probably wouldn’t taste the difference if served side by side, the website explained. Is that a challenge? Carol jokingly thought. With her foodie taste buds, she was certain she could sniff out the difference. Not that she would ever try, though. As if.

While she thoroughly wiped the picture of Doug, Carol apologized to his image. She didn’t hold anything against her husband. Nothing. On the contrary, he had supported her in hard times. When her father passed. When she had her second pregnancy scare, this one (thankfully) false. And of course, his constant companionship to all those places—Marseille and Istanbul and Galway and Marrakesh.

The last of the ceramic fragments were deposited in the trash. The milk was puddled up with a dish towel, then thrown in the laundry bin. Carol got back to work.

Last month she was skimming through the Food Network and came across a fascinating recipe: hot and sour soup. She had always wanted to try it out, but never got around to it. Paired with her signature linguine and clam sauce—a dish that always appealed to Doug’s taste, the Wilkensons could have a perfect anniversary dinner. She went to the pantry, which was overflowing with jams and spices after twenty years of marriage, and selected her ingredients.

White pepper. Onions. Vinegar. Bottled mushrooms. Jarred olives. Some shrimp from the fridge. Mozzarella slices. Bits of chicken, diced like cheese. Eggs, but not too many; she didn’t want her final product to be too “slushy.”

As she mixed, chopped, sautéred, and cooked, she cheerily hummed All You Need Is Love to herself, a song that played at her wedding.

She finished the soup and went to work on the linguine with clam sauce, which by now was as habitual as brushing her teeth while Rachel Maddow gave her the news. She lingered in the pantry and brought out her spices—fourteen in all, although Doug admitted that he could only taste three. By now, she had calculated that it took two trips to the pantry for linguini, and one perusal of the fridge.

Spaghetti and bowtie pasta, finely mixed. Olive oil. More onions. A clove of garlic. Lemon juice. Parsley. A dash of Maruso soy sauce. A sprinkle of salt. Tomato sauce, but not too much. Minced clams.

Lastly, Carol went to the cellar and brought up a bottle of Château Margaux. At half a grand, it was the most expensive wine they owned, a wedding present from Doug’s childhood friend, some rich Wall Street guy named Joe, not yet humbled by the crisis of ‘07. Doug had stuck it in the basement, saving the bottle for a special occasion. Carol figured two decades was time enough at last, and stuck it in the fridge.

Oh dear! She thought with a start. I almost forgot the carrots!

She looked at the kitchen clock. It was three minutes short, but Carol realized it was nearly four. Where had the time gone? Doug would be getting back from the office around now. Meg would soon join them—she had soccer practice until five. A teammate’s mom was driving her home.

Carol cursed herself for the two hours she spent watching The Crown while letting the chicken thaw, then cook. As she hurried to chop the carrots, her mind wandered again to Olivia Coleman, venerable and austere as Elizabeth II. Carol was so far removed from all those ladies in the show, who would never burden themselves with housework (they had servants for that), but instead perform diplomatic duties, making speeches and traveling to foreign countries. To Carol, it was more and more unlikely she would ever work or travel again. After her stint as a photojournalist, she worked at home for a couple years, putting her English degree to use writing advice columns in a American Woman, a near-unheard of women's magazine. My boyfriend left, someone would write in. My husband’s not talking to me. She always gave some fancy variation of the same answer, which could be distilled to: Get a grip, girl! You’re a grown-ass woman. Take charge of your life.

Now she felt like a terrible hypocrite, an unemployed housewife with no career prospects, fussing over the thickness of Doug’s hot and sour soup. She paused from chopping carrots, bit her hand, then resumed the task. How could she have ever had the audacity to write such advice?

It had been 2007 when she quit the magazine, when Meg entered the terrible twos and ate up all her time. For the time being, she had said to Doug. But they both knew it was permanent. After an exciting and successful career as a photojournalist, anything less was cripplingly depressing. Better nothing than something less. And they both knew it wasn’t Meg’s fault. If it was, she would’ve had an abortion. She was an independent woman. Neither of their families were picky about things like that. It was just… they both knew—although neither he nor her said anything—that they’d have to stop traveling and settle down. Grow up. Move on with their lives. It was time.

It was time.

“FUCK!”

She looked down at her hand, spouting blood from the tip of her pinkie finger like a water balloon with a hole. The knife rattled against the cutting board. Blood trickled on top of the cut carrots like the decorative sauce drizzled over hors d'oeuvres at some fancy eatery. Carol knew from years of restaurant experience that this was called plating. The top of her pinkie lay with the carrots; just another delicacy.

She hurriedly covered her hand with a wad of paper towels. It soaked through.

She rushed to the bathroom and threw open the door above the sink. Toothbrushes and bottles of aspirin clattered into the sink as she found the bandages. Wielding her teeth like some disgruntled animal, she tore open the box of bandages, then struggled with the waxy strip, tears welling in her eyes and blank black painspots eating up the foreground.

When the bandage was on and she felt healed enough to move, Carol wiped up the blood. Much of it was dried and black.

Black as elderberries.

Carol looked over to the cutting board. The carrots lay there, all in a row, quiet as a crime scene. She used the knife, still bloody, to scrape the bleeding carrots into the trash. Then she stopped. The finger was still there, an unpainted nail like a postal stamp in the corner of the cutting board. It clung on by a sticky glob of blood. Carol recalled a time when she read Meg a book of scary children’s stories.

(Meg was really into that stuff as a kid, and Doug thought something might be off with her, as if she was destined to become the first female serial killer.)

As one story went, there was a boy who ate some soup with a toe in it. After dinner, he’s sent to bed. He’s later haunted by the toe’s owner. Where is my big toe? Where is my toe? Carol always thought that was the scariest of all the stories. But even still, gazing at the piece of truncated pinkie like a crumb of meat left on the plate, it looked kind of… appetizing.

She set the cutting board down. Then, moving quickly as to not regret it, she peeled the finger off the cutting board and threw it into her mouth, nail and all. It caught in her throat for a moment, and for a second she was sure she’d choke on her stupidity, but then it gave.

Down the hatch and ‘round the corner, she thought. Then, out loud, with an air of awed tranquility:

“Tastes like chicken.”

She laughed at her crack, then tended to the mess. She washed the cutting board, not caring about chopping another carrot. Doug will just have to go another day without any carrots, that’s all. He’ll manage.

*

Doug wheeled his Prius into the garage at 4:30 p.m. By then, the linguine was sizzling on a saucepan, and its tangy scent permeated the house. Carol was ecstatic.

By now, he would have remembered their anniversary. He must’ve felt horrible (just horrible!) all day at work, upon remembering, with a start, that today was December 2nd. He would walk through the door and drop to his knees, exalting her with compliments and pleas of “I’m sorry,” and declaring his commitment to marriage. And love for her.

And this morning? It was just a fluke. His morning coffee hadn’t yet set in, and he was groggy and disoriented. He had forgotten their anniversary, but only for a minute.

The door opened with an anticipatory groan. Carol breathed deeply. The smells of her fresh cooking intermingled in a miasma of spice.

“Hey,” he said, with all the gusto of a cottonmouthed telemarketer. Doug walked into the kitchen. He hung his coat. Slipped off his shoes.

“I prepared a nice dinner for us,” she said.

He said nothing, just trudged into the living room, sat on the couch, and flicked on the evening news.

Not even a “smells good.”

A minute passed. Carol saw a chime on her phone. From Meg.

“Meg’s at Amy’s house,” she told Doug. “Says she’ll be back at nine.”

“Okay.”

“We should eat without her, just the two of us.”

“Okay.”

She set the table and placed the linguine on a dish, carefully so, like an offering on an altar. She did the same with the soup, and stirred it lovingly. She blew into the steam as if in prayer.

“What’s this?”

“Hot and sour soup.”

When she saw the disgruntled look on his face, she added:

“It’s Asian cuisine.”

“Chinese food,” he said dejectedly.

“Doesn’t it smell good?”

“Yeah,” he conceded.

They ate like mannequins, miming out their movements as if reading from a script. Pick up fork. Stab bowtie noodles. Swallow.

“Anything interesting happen at work today?”

“Same old, same old.”

Test spoon in soup. Raise it to your lips. Swallow.

“You haven’t touched your linguine,” she says, once he had finished the soup.

“Sorry. Do you want it? I’m not in the mood for this stuff again.”

This stuff again. This stuff again.

Those words played in her head, round and round, heating up slightly, like the plate in a microwave.

“No, I’ll just put it away.”

She took the plate and ducked behind the kitchen counter. Retrieved a large tupperware. She tilted the plate—a move so simple yet to her as melancholic as the R.M.S. Titanic sliding into the Atlantic. Most of the plate sludged into the plastic. But some noodles remained.

This stuff again.

She took an oversized cutting knife and scraped them off, trying to get as much of the clam sauce as possible. The knife shined silver, the sauce was white as semen.

“It was good,” Doug said, and Carol couldn’t help but smile. She deposited the tupperware in the fridge, and, positioning her back to Doug to cover his view of the kitchen, discreetly removed another item.

“I’m glad you like it. But there’s more.”

With that, she heaved the full weight of her body against the corkscrew wine opener and popped the bottle of Château Margaux.

Pooompf!

Bubbles instantly fizzed up; tiny iridescent balloons in celebration. Like whitewater on a beach. Carol smiled, so lost in thought that she barely understood the words coming out of Doug’s mouth. They must’ve echoed three times around the kitchen before they reached her eardrums.

“Are you crazy?!?”

“Huh?” she was still smiling, pouring the green bottle into the first of two wine glasses.

“That’s Château Margaux!”

“I know,” Carol says, hesitantly at first. Then, with a firmer voice:

“That’s why I’m pouring it.”

“That was from Joe Briggasson. We were supposed to save it for special occasions. You just opened it. You ruined it.”

Carol couldn’t stop herself. As she spoke, she strangled the neck of Doug’s wine glass.

“Special occasions?”

She laughed, a hollow cackle that scared her more than him.

“Ruined it? Did I, Doug? Did I really?”

Anger crept into her voice in the same sneaky way she found herself humming along to a tune in the supermarket she didn’t know was playing.

“Yes, you did!” Doug said. “You’re supposed to sit on that for a few decades.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Doug.” Carol said, with mock sympathy. It was a tone unfamiliar to both Doug and herself. “I guess twenty years of marriage wasn’t enough for you.”

“Twenty years? Twenty...” he trailed off, head turned toward the calendar behind her. Red sharpie accused him. Red like blood.

“I told you, honey.” he said, getting his voice under control. “This morning. I said Happy Anniversary. You must’ve forgot.”

“Liar!”

Shmakkkk!

Carol looked down. Her hand had thoroughly choked the neck of the wineglass. It lay shattered, its glass spread out on the linoleum floor like petals of some deadly flower. Puddled with blood and $500 wine. It was the third time she cut her hand today. That’s a hat trick.

“Oh, Carol,” he said sadly, condescendingly.

“Here, let me help.”

The chair pushed back. He went into the kitchen, wearing a face of both sympathy and disgust. It was the look he wore in Bangkok. Bangkok. The beautiful city with the grilled octopus that Doug was too afraid to try and looked at her funny when she did, as if he had walked in on her performing fellatio on another man. The disgust he wore never left her memory. It was such a minor grievance, so silly that they never talked about it. One of those inconsequential peccadilloes that married people are supposed to forgive, and, if God forbade, forget. But still, like a bad stain, it didn’t seem to fade. On the contrary, it grew. Festered in her mind. Fed there.

She realized, then, that she hated Doug.

She looked at the knife, snuggled in its block of triangular wood.

“Are you cut?”

She didn’t answer. She bit her hand. Most of the wine remained in the bottle, still bubbling up. Up and up and up. Fizzing. Like grease on a skillet.

“Okay, not too bad.”

He inspected her palm. Only a few scrapes. Some blood, but nothing too deep. There was a bandage on her pinkie finger covering the nail, but it looked like Carol had handled that already. So, he crouched down and picked up some of the glass from the floor. Collecting it into a sparkling pile.

She couldn’t look at him. She bit her hand. She looked at the wine. Fizzing.

Like a snake’s hiss.

“I can’t believe this.” he said, head bowed, his balding hair displayed like a half-assed attempt at a monk’s tonsure. “Five hundred down the drain.”

She looked at the block of wood, knife nestled cozily inside. The wine bottle stood beside it. Then, without thinking, her hand left her mouth. She wrung the bottle by the neck and thrashed it against his head. It exploded in a hail of glass and colored fluid.

He doubled over.

“Fuhhh—”

Glass everywhere.

Blood, too, black as elderberries.

Wine, fizzing. Hissing like a snake.

He turned around, and she could see that he fell on glass. Some pieces twinkled to the floor. They sparkled like the spilled champagne. He raised his mangled hands defensively. Fingers bled like the carrots sitting in the bottom of the trash can.

“Carol…”

She pounced on him, driving the full weight of her body into her hand, which clutched the corkscrew wine opener like an epipen. It slid into his throat.

Then, everything was red.

For one fleeting infinity: that awful, scarlet ubiquity.

She blinked, and he was there again. Eyes glazed and trembling like spoonfuls of jello. Beads of sweat on his brow, pustules of blood, drips of wine, all pregnantly static. Lips parted, as if to taste. He managed to croak out one word:

“Whhhhhyyyyyy?”

And she—still draped over him like they were a much younger couple, faces inches apart, ready to do the deed—answered:

“Octopus.”

She twisted the spiral.

He sputtered; twitched; convulsed like having a seizure. She felt every movement. His hands fell sleepily to his side, parting the broken glass.

His mouth was a science project: a volcano oozing magma. Drops cascaded down his chin the way chocolate sauce topped an ice cream sundae. They pooled in his fat neck, which was resting, bonelessly, on the linoleum.

Carol uncurled her fingers from the twisted metal spiral. She looked at them—cut up and covered in both their blood. Like a wounded animal, she licked her fingers.

Finger-licking good, she thought, and released a hollow laugh. Then, she put her mouth to the back of her hand, chewing. Ponderous, but not nervous.

“Oh, Doug. What did you make me do?”

The room smelled sickly sweet, the fragrances of wine and home cooking still identifiable. Its sallange permeated the entire house, clinging like flies to a corpse.

She surveyed the kitchen—all that blood and wine and broken glass, some volleyed across the room—and saw the oven. She looked back to Doug’s volcano face. And knew, just knew, what to do. She kissed him on the lips, wet and still warm. Then she leaned back, licked the blood from her lips, and said:

“You look delicious.”

*

Meg came home at 9:15 p.m. She sniffed the air. Something was off, but she couldn’t tell what, exactly. She shook her head. Meg had had her period this morning, and the smell of blood still lingered.

Her mother was in the kitchen, cooking, though that was usual for her. Even late at night, she always had something in the oven. With her mother, a bowl was always ready to lick, and a good meal perpetually at their fingertips. In recent months, she felt bad about turning down mom’s cooking, saying she wasn’t feeling the chicken parmigiana. In reality, she didn’t want to get fat. She didn’t want to have a nickname at school like Size-Forty Sandra.

But that would change. She would eat what her mother cooked. She didn’t want to hurt her mother’s feelings.

Besides, as far as chefs were concerned, her mother wasn’t half bad.

“Hi, Meg. How was Amy’s?”

“Alright.”

“Did you eat yet?”

“Yeah, a little. Some chicken with Amy and her parents. But I have room for more. What do you have?”

“Let’s just say… mystery meat.”

“Sure, as long as it’s not octopus again. I couldn’t stand that when we went to Bangkok.”

“Oh, no,” her mother said, flashing her pearly whites like a walking, talking dental ad. “Much better.”

She plopped a steaming chunk of meat on a plate and turned around, looking radiant. Meg could not remember the last time her mom looked this happy. She looked ten years younger! Even in the wan light of the kitchen, her wrinkles seemed smoothed, her eyes sparkled with brilliance. There was a renewed bounce to her step as she set the plate down in front of her, all the while grinning ear to ear. To Meg, this seemed almost a comical sight. Because for all this renewed vigor and ebullient veneer, her mother had not noticed what was caught between her two front teeth: dangling there, like a fly entombed in a spider’s web, was a slim sliver of meat.

“Dig in,” she said, and Meg did.

End.

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