#there’s a term for this but i am clearly no chef

[danothan]

decided to watch tutorials for cleaning fresh produce after washing my brussel sprouts for an hour straight and thinking “wait… something’s not right about this.”

you’re telling me you can just let them soak in a bowl and come back to it later?? occam’s razor, you tricky son of a bitch.

[prince-liest]

i know i left a comment on the fic too but mmmmmm the latest radiostatic fic is chef kiss. love every about it, especially the talking about gender with two people from different decades and alastor discovering an avenue of sex that is mentally interesting without encroaching on his boundaries with sexual contact

very good 👍 👏 👌

Thank you so much! I genuinely really love writing characters trying to talk about their feelings, needs, and identities in a way that isn't in line with modern queer-informed sensibilities. Because queer people still existed before we had words for them (or even defined identities in certain ways), and they did talk about those things! They just saw them differently, and I like poking at how their personal views and ability to discuss the matter helps characterize them.

Alastor being ace is never explicitly going to come up in 666 in those terms for the same reason, unless I finally get Rosie involved in a fic somewhere, because neither of them know what that word even means (and I am absolutely pulling from my general impression that even many not-perpetually-online queer folks don't know about aroace concepts). But that doesn't mean they're not clearly navigating what they see as Alastor's personal preferences! It's one of the things that I think canon pulled off really well: making this clear, on-screen delineation of yes, this character is ace that was funny and natural without, like, having Alastor turn his head to stare directly into the camera and declare that he identifies as something, haha.

Anyway, ahem. That's my soapbox, thank you for attending the lecture, hahaha. I'm glad you enjoy the way I write this!

[andypantsx3]

Hi Andie my loveeee! This is not a fic request of any sort but I wanted to share an idea with you if that's ok?

I have recently been OBSESSED with "The Apothecary Diaries" and I definitely see some similarities between Jinshi and Shouto that make me laugh a lot when I am watching it but that got me thinking...

Imagine... SecretPrince!Shouto. No one knows what the youngest son of Emperor!Enji looks like, Todoroki Shouto is a name shrouded in mystery. The reason being with Shouto now old enough; Enji tasks Shouto with the matters of the Inner Palace undercover to test him and if he does a good enough job he promises him to bring back Empress!Rei to the main court from the outer palace. She had been sent there after her position declined as a courtesan since the "death" of her eldest son and the tyranny of the emperor drove her mad. Shouto agrees.

Imagine... Commoner!Reader who was taught to read and write despite not being a noble, who harbored a special interest in medicine. Her family has plans of making her a courtesan (which she despises but can't do anything against) , thus the formal education. However, with her father's business going under she has no choice but to join the Imperial Palace work force as one of the ladies in waiting for Courtesan!Momo so they can make ends meet. Surprisingly Momo turns out to be quite generous and open minded unlike the other nobles and the reader finds a family along with the other ladies in waiting such as Ochako, Tsuyu, Jiro and Mina. Now all she has to do is finish her term without any trouble, until then her father should be able to get things back in control at home...

But of course things never go as planned as a bunch of mysteries unfold at the palace needing the help of a specific apothecary, the appearance of a way too handsome yet mysterious eunuch at the inner palace, and his strange yet frequent visits to Lady Momo's place... Wait what he came specifically asked for us?... Huh... how bizarre...

Omg I can see it so so clearly. Through a series of odd encounters, where the reader learns about the true nature on this strange eunuch and surprisingly... he's kind of nice... and the Eunuch of the other hand having such weird curiosity over a simple maid with no courtly manners or refined personality to point where he continuously seeks her company. But we must not get sidetracked! we are here for our family... not for some... handsome... kind... gentle...wai- WHAT NO NO NO BRAIN STOP IT!!!

Obviously this is heavily HEAVILY inspired by apothecary diaries but I think it fits so well... MilitaryCommander!Bakugo, his right hand man being Kirishima, CourtAdviser!Aizawa, MissingPrince!Touya who fled to the neighboring kindom and has been plotting his revenge since.

Omg I loveeeeeee this skdjhskjdhsfl I am gonna have to watch Apothecary Diaries because this concept is everything??

I absolutely love the layers of intrigue and Shouto would work sooooo well as a secret prince masquerading as a far too handsome eunuch!!

We would tie ourselves in knots over how beautiful we found him and wondering if that's something he would ever want too!!! And then to find out he's a prince. I can just see the emotional turmoil of no we must not have feelings morphing into okay we have feelings but he's a eunuch he probably doesn't want us morphing into oh my god I think he wants us?? morphing into HE'S ROYALTY!!!!!! PANIC!!!!!!!!!

Chef's kiss, love this, this is the kind of Reader torture I love to see. I absolutely think you need to make this a fic and I will be watching Apothecary Diaries ASAP!!!!!!

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Thanks (m, cold)

Hi guys, thank you again for voting on which scenario you wanted to see for this fic! It's a bit of a slow burn, and idk how I feel about the ending, but Elijah is staunchly miserable by the end so hopefully that makes y'all happy 😅 let me know if you like it 🫶

Ps I've been writing this for literally the past 12 hours so I cannot look at it anymore, I'll read it over and edit errors in the morning but I need to get it out before it drives me insane lmao. 5.5k words under the cut :)

CW: male snz, colds, coughing, fever, contagion

There was nothing quite as depressing, Elijah decided, as the days leading up to Thanksgiving dinner service in a restaurant. Well, unless you were Greyson.

“Goooood morning, boss! Two days til the Big Day; are you pumped?”

Elijah turned his chair slowly towards the door, where the chef stood grinning unironically. He thought, not for the first time, that Greyson was likely some sort of dog in a past life – a golden retriever, or possibly a lab. One of those ‘no thoughts, just vibes’ dogs.

“Am I pumped?” Elijah asked, glaring at Greyson. “For a day that should be spent drinking shitty beer and eating my weight in carbs spent instead putting on a fake smile for people who don’t even think of us as human? For people who go out to eat literally once a year, and make sure they do it on a holiday so they can feel powerful by forcing a restaurant to serve them, then complain about the price and stiff my servers? Am I pumped to barely break even, even though the restaurant will be packed from ten am until close, because those same people staunchly refuse to pay more than eighty bucks a head to stuff themselves silly? Am I pumped to listen to my staff complain all day, despite the fact that when each of them was hired, they were told in no uncertain terms that they would be working holidays?” Elijah clicked his pen closed loudly, stood to let Greyson through, and sat with him in tandem, his face set in anger the whole time. “No, Grey. I am not, in fact, pumped.”

Greyson broke their eye contact to wake his computer, the lecture obviously unexpected. “Clearly I should’ve read the room before opening my mouth,” he said, glancing back over at his boss briefly. “My bad, boss.”

Elijah, embarrassed that he’d let himself sink into such a state about something as stupid as a holiday service, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Fuck. Sorry, Grey. You just caught me at a bad moment. I had two servers call out for today, I’m fuckin’ sweating because we really need everyone here for Thursday and neither of them are sure they’ll be good to come back in two days.”

“Hmm,” Greyson hummed, his eyebrows threading together. “That’s weird. I had Victor and Elise call out on my way in.”

Elijah felt his heart thump in his temple. “Did they say why?”

“I didn’t ask,” Greyson said, turning his chair to face his boss. “But I guess I should’ve. Did the servers say why they couldn’t come in?”

“Some sort of fever-cold thing, is what Jason said he had. Ashley just said she felt like shit.” Elijah pressed his fingers into his eye and sighed. “I need a cigarette. Care to join?”

Greyson, never one to turn down nicotine in any form, stood from his chair. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said.

The two of them walked through the empty kitchen in silence, Elijah entirely too wrapped in his own thoughts to continue their conversation. There was an ongoing joke, a trope, at this point, about holidays in the restaurant; everyone was always sick for them. Last Easter, the servers all had bronchitis, and a couple of Valentine’s days ago, Greyson had so many cooks call out with the stomach flu that they’d had to hire last-minute temps to fill in on the line. Despite doing nearly 300 covers, they barely made enough to cover the immense labor that seven temps on a holiday cost.

“Lij,” Greyson said as the two of them stepped out the back door and sat on the milk crates littering the loading dock, “it’s not going to be like Valentine’s. I can see your fuckin’ gears turning.” The chef pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, handed his boss one, and lit them both up. “Relax.”

Silence, once again, fell upon them as they smoked and watched fat snowflakes disintegrate on the asphalt. Elijah hoped that Greyson was right, that everything would be fine and he was overreacting – but he knew better than to hope. More likely than not, it was going to be what it always was on holidays: a shit show.

Matt and Mark, hand-in-hand until they spotted their bosses by the door, turned the corner and waved to their counterparts in tandem like well-trained circus animals. Elijah couldn’t help but smile as their fingers unwove from one another.

“Morning,” Elijah called, stubbing out his cigarette. Greyson did the same, and the two of them stood to let the younger men into the building.

“Aren’t you freezing?” Mark asked rubbing his hands together as he pushed the door open. Elijah shrugged as he held the door open for the other two and walked in behind them.

“My rage keeps me warm,” he said, prompting a laugh from Greyson and an eye roll from the younger men. “How’re you guys?”

Mark shot a look at Matt as they all walked towards the office at the front of the kitchen. “I’m well,” he said, pointedly. Elijah nearly stopped in his tracks when he glimpsed Matt glaring at his boyfriend.

“Matt…?” Greyson asked, an attempt at giving his sous chef a get-out-of-jail-free card. There was silence as the three of them turned, expectantly, towards Matt.

“I’mb good,” the sous said, his voice cracking on the second syllable. Elijah audibly groaned, Mark winced, and Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity.

“Well, you certainly sound great,” Greyson said, palming Matt’s shoulder aggressively. “Would you like to go home and sleep that off?”

“Yes, he -”

“Ndo,” Matt said, cutting Mark off and shooting him a look. “I wandt to help prep.I’mb – hh! hh’NGTSH-uh!” Matt turned and pulled his coat up over the bottom half of his face to sneeze, then quickly gathered himself and stood up straight. “I’mb fine,” he said, convincing no one.

Elijah closed his eyes briefly and sighed through his nose; fortunately or unfortunately, he knew exactly why Matt hadn’t called off.

The week prior, Elijah and Greyson had dolled out raises and bonuses for the staff; this year was Matt’s fifth as sous chef. Greyson had basically written a dissertation of why his sous chef should be given a new title – Executive Sous – along with a significant raise and bonus. It hadn’t taken much convincing; Elijah knew exactly how hard Matt worked, and staying at the same restaurant as a sous chef for five years was nearly unheard of in this city, especially for someone as young as Matt. He and Greyson had agreed that Matt’s loyalty to the restaurant deserved to be compensated, and had surprised him before his day off with the new title and pay.

Matt had been surprised – shocked was probably a better word for it, honestly – and had confided in Elijah after Greyson had dipped early to meet up with a date that he felt like he didn’t deserve the raise.

“You do,” Elijah had said, laughing lightly. “We wouldn’t have given it to you if you didn’t deserve it.”

The younger man had shaken his head. “I just… I mean, Greyson is here way more than me. I get two days off mostly, and he doesn’t let me work longer than ten hours. And I love it here, you guys don’t need to, like, worry about me leaving if that’s what this is about.”

Elijah had given Matt a confused look. “Greyson should be here more than you, first of all he’s a partner, not just the chef, and secondly, he gets paid very well to be here eighty hours a week. That’s his choosing. You’re his employee – if you were here as much as he was and getting paid significantly less, that wouldn’t be fair. And we’re glad you love it here, but that’s not why we gave you the raise. We gave it to you because you’re a hard worker, and you deserve to be compensated for what you do.” Elijah had smiled at Matt, patted his knee, and finished with, “Don’t sell yourself short.”

Matt had just smiled back and nodded, but Elijah knew he hadn’t changed his mind about ‘being undeserving’. Elijah knew, via background checks that were performed by his off-site HR company, and via Mark being a blabbermouth the second he got a glass of wine in him, that Matt had been a bit of a troubled kid; he’d been bounced from one foster home to another as a kid, and then one juvenile detention hall to another as a teenager. Only when he’d dropped out of high school and gotten a job as a dishwasher at a Denny’s did he finally decide it was time to shape up. He’d worked his way into the diner’s kitchen, then a slightly nicer kitchen, and when he was 20, he’d shown up at the front door of Elliot’s in an ill-fitting suit with a speech about how he was ready to work somewhere that he could hone his passion, even if they couldn’t pay him a dime. Greyson had hired him on the spot, not even consulting Elijah, despite only having been the executive chef for a few months.

Elijah knew Matt felt that he owed Greyson, not the other way around, and this promotion and raise was the nail in that coffin of doubt. He knew there was no way Matt would go home, no matter how shitty he felt.

Greyson just shrugged at his sous chef’s denial of being sick. “If you want to stay, I’m not going to make you leave,” he said, walking into the office and changing from his sweatshirt into his chef’s coat. “Just don’t sneeze on the food.”

Matt rolled his eyes and stripped off his jacket to put his own chef’s coat on. “Yes, Chef,” he said, coughing into his elbow. Mark and Elijah exchanged sidelong looks.

“Are you feeling okay?” Elijah asked his junior manager. Mark smirked, hiked his laptop bag further onto his shoulder, and started towards the dining room – his makeshift office.

“Never better, boss,” he said, pushing through the swinging doors. “Never better.”

***

“So, is he coming in tomorrow?”

Greyson lolled his head to the side, hands still on his keyboard, and deadpanned Elijah. “The fuck do you think?”

Elijah pulled a hand down his face and nodded. “Yeah, okay, just wanted to check.”

While Matt had been relatively fine the first few hours of the shift, by the time the last guests had eaten, the sous had been so staunchly miserable that Greyson had marched his ass into the office, thrown his jacket over his shoulders, and pointed towards the back door. “Go. Home. Now.”

“Chef, I – HTSHH! Hh-! GTSH-uh!” Matt wrenched to the side, collapsing into a post-sneeze coughing fit that made the cooks flinch from five yards away.

“You’re not fine,” Greyson insisted. “You’re sick, and you’re going to get everyone else sick.”

Matt nodded, miserable, and hung his head. “Sorry, Chef,” he muttered, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Go,” Greyson said. “And come back when you’re well.”

Mark had taken Matt home in an Uber, and the cooks and servers had been able to leave relatively early, which left Elijah, Greyson, and a bottle of whiskey between them on the desk to figure out how they were going to handle the rest of the week.

Greyson sighed and reached for the bottle as he pushed away from his computer screen. He took a long pull and handed the bottle to Elijah, who followed suit. “I just… I don’t understand why he’d come in that sick,” Greyson said, pulling his hair to the top of his head and securing it with a rubber band from their drawer of office supplies. Elijah had to pull the bottle away from his lips to laugh. “What?” Greyson asked.

“You, of all people, can’t understand why he came in sick?” Elijah asked, incredulous. “You?”

“What do you mean me?” Greyson asked, snatching the bottle back. “If anything, he learned it from watching you.”

“Oh, spare me, Greyson,” Elijah rolled his eyes. “For awhile there, you literally came in sick three weeks a month.”

Greyson scoffed. “At least I’ve never passed out on the kitchen floor.”

“Yes, you have.”

“No, I almost passed out. You actually fuckin’ swooned. Collapsed in a puddle. Full damsel in distress.” Greyson took another pull and placed the bottle back on the desk. “So don’t come for me unless I send for you.”

Elijah guffawed at this. “Who taught you that saying?” he asked. Greyson shrugged.

“I heard one of the servers using it. I like it.”

“The servers are twenty years old, you dinosaur. The last thing they want is Grandpa Greyson using their jargon.”

“Fuck off, if anyone here is a grandpa it’s…” Greyson stopped suddenly, held up a finger, let his eyes flutter shut, then let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, that’s annoying.” He rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, then raised an eyebrow at his boss, whose face had drawn into concern. “What?”

“What was that?” Elijah asked, glancing over at the bottle of whiskey they’d spent the past hour sharing.

“I just thought I was going to – oh,” Greyson’s eyes widened. “No, dude, relax, I’m totally fine. I feel great.”

“‘Buzzed’ and ‘great’ are two different things, Grey,” Elijah said. He reached up to feel Greyson’s forehead, prompting the chef to lean back in his chair.

“Great as in healthy,” he insisted, shooing Elijah’s hand away. “Seriously, I’d let you know if I – HRRTSHHH-ue!” He caught the sneeze in his elbow – barely – and choked back an irritated cough. From the crook of his arm, he heard Elijah swear.

“I’m going to end your fuckin’ life, I swear to God,” Elijah muttered, pushing the bottle further onto Greyson’s side of the desk. “You let me drink from the same bottle as you, you dick.”

“I’m fine, Elijah, Christ it was one sneee – hh! - hh…” Greyson tipped his head back in anticipation, then lowered and shook it when the feeling once again dissipated. “See? Totally fine.” He sniffled – convincing, Grey – and immediately changed course. “Plus, it’s alcohol. It’s an antiseptic.”

“It one million percent is not,” Elijah said, rubbing his temples in defeat. “Greyson, you cannot be sick. We cannot be sick. How the hell are we going to be able to run Thanksgiving?”

“Elijah,” Greyson said, “listen. I am fine. Everything is going to be just fi – ITSHH-ue!” Greyson pitched forward into his palm and cringed. Elijah, begrudgingly, slammed the box of tissues they kept on a side table in front of the chef.

“Bless you,” he said while Greyson cleaned himself up. “And, I mean this from the bottom of my heart: fuck. You.”

***

“Hhh-! Huh… hnnn.”

“Bless you.”

“Oh, screw you, Lij,” Greyson muttered for the millionth time that day. He grabbed what felt like his hundredth tissue and blew his nose – only for the feeling to reignite. “Huhhh! Hhh...hh… guhh.” Greyson rubbed his nose again and angrily spiked the tissue into the trash can beneath his prep station.

“Bless you,” Elijah said again, mocking.

“You kndow,” Greyson said, turning towards his boss, who was seated in the office, not looking Greyson’s way. “Karma is going to combe for you for being an asshole to mbe.”

At this, Elijah glanced towards Greyson. “Karma? No, karma is having a cold and not being able to sneeze because you let your friend drink out of the same bottle as you when you knew you were getting sick. That’s karma, and you got what was coming to you.”

“Fuuhhh! Huh! Hh...fuck,” Greyson grumbled, coughing into his shoulder.

“Karma is also giving your sous chef a lecture about being sick at work, only to be get sick and have to come into work because you’re technically the most well of all the sick cooks and chefs.”

“Are you finished?” Greyson asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I get it. And to be fair, I did ndot kndow I was getting sick.” The chef sucked in painfully through his nose and collapsed into coughs once again.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah mumbled. When it seemed like Greyson wasn’t going to be able to stop the coughing, he took pity and got up to make the chef tea.

“Here,” Elijah said, slamming a paper cup in front of Greyson. “Drink it. Sickie.”

Greyson, unable to come up with a proper comeback, just did as he was told. “How mbany on the books tonight?” he croaked. Elijah sighed, pulled up his phone, and slid it towards Greyson. “Fuck,” Greyson said when he saw the number.

“All the people in the city who aren’t coming in tomorrow decided tonight was the night, apparently,” Elijah said, taking his phone back and putting it in his pocket. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, in earnest.

Greyson nodded. “It’s ndot too bad,” he said, taking another sip of tea. “Just wish I could fuckigg sndeeze.”

Elijah huffed out a laugh. “You’re sure you don’t want to call Matt in?”

“Definitely no – hh! Huh...hhhITSHHHZUE! Oh thank fuckigg God – HUHHESTCH-ue! Hh! Hnn...HuhhhETSCHH-ue! HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah whistled, long and low, and pushed the box of tissues towards Greyson. “Wow,” he said. “Bless.”

Greyson rolled his eyes as he took a handful of tissues and cleaned himself up. “See?” he said once he’d thrown them away and washed his hands, “Good as new. HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah chuckled. “Sure, Chef,” he said, moving towards the doors to the dining room. “Whatever you say.”

***

In his thirty-nine years on earth, Elijah had learned a lot about himself. He’d learned that he was a hothead, and he had to really think about the repercussions of what was going to come out of his mouth if he wanted to keep the person he was talking to in his life. He’d learned that he was incapable of whistling, juggling, or any other party trick – but he could pull out a fantastic rendition of Queen’s Somebody to Love during karaoke, and that was enough to make him seem like he was fun at parties. He’d learned that he loved to have his own space, and should he ever find a partner, he knew they’d have to have separate bedrooms. And he had learned exactly what it felt like when he was getting sick.

Like… really sick.

When Greyson said things like, “I didn’t know I was getting sick,” it truly did not register to Elijah. Maybe it was because Greyson’s illnesses always seemed to be some sort of mixed bag – starting differently every time, with symptoms that varied wildly – or maybe it was because he just didn’t tune in to how he was feeling. Greyson always said he basically tried to ignore his body until it forced him to pay attention; maybe that was something that Elijah needed to attempt. Because Elijah… Elijah knew exactly when and how badly he was getting sick every single time.

It had started that afternoon, mere hours after he’d given Greyson shit about exposing him to this illness, the way it always did – with the type of sore throat that made you feel weak in your knees. Elijah had swallowed, then immediately felt dizzy with the pain that surged in his throat. Oh, he thought, touching his neck. Oh, no.

He was, of course, a creature of habit and attempted all his usual ways to quell the pain – cups of tea hidden in paper sleeves, lozenges he hoped Greyson was too stuffed up to smell on his breath, handfuls of ibuprofen – to no avail. By the time dinner service came around he could hear the rasp in his voice and, despite the ibuprofen, could feel the ache in his joints that meant he’d already made it to stage two; fever.

This was how he knew he was going to be down badly. If he could ride the sore throat past the fever and straight into congestion, he might be able to get away with just a normal cold. But if that fever set in before any other symptoms, it was all over.

“Yo,” Greyson said, approaching his boss post pre-shift. “Cand we quickly talk about the semantics of tomborrow’s buffet before people get here?”

Elijah lifted his heavy head from his pre-shift notes and blinked in Greyson’s direction. “Okay,” he said, brilliantly. Greyson’s eyebrows knit together, concerned.

“You good?” he asked, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. Elijah nodded slowly – surely, if Greyson was able to push through this illness with such ease, he was just being a baby about it. He swallowed through the knives in his throat and nodded.

“Just a headache,” he said. “What do you want to talk through?”

“Just wanted to see how mbany cooks you think I should have on the buffehh....ETSZHCHH-ue!” Greyson directed a massive sneeze into his elbow, and Elijah’s head about exploded with pain.

“Christ,” Elijah muttered, pressing his palm into his eye. Greyson muffled a cough into his sleeve and shook his head to clear it.

“Fuck, ‘scuse mbe,” he said, looking back at his boss. “Umb. Did I get you or something?”

Something like that, Elijah thought as he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’re just loud, and my head hurts.” He pulled out his phone, looked at the cover spread for the next day, and said, “Three cooks on the buffet. One for omelets, one for prime rib carving, one for dessert bar.” He looked up at Greyson for his confirmation. “What?” he asked.

“You just… look like you’re in pain,” Greyson said, carefully. “Did you take -?”

“Yes, I took ibuprofen,” Elijah cut him off. “Go make sure your guys are ready for tonight. Take a decongestant so they can understand you. I’ll be back there in a minute.”

Greyson pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. “Yes, sir,” he said, and left Elijah to brood.

By some stroke of luck, the third inevitable stage of Elijah’s illness didn’t hit him until after they’d finished service. He was checking the lead server’s station so she could go home, when suddenly it felt like a thousand bees collected in his sinuses.

“Yeah, looks good Riley, thanks, see you in the mo – IGTSHH-uhh! HSTSH-ue! HhhhINTSZH-ue!” Elijah wrenched to the side, the sneezes so sudden he barely had time to cover his mouth.

“Yikes,” Riley said, taking a step away from her boss. “Bless you.”

“Thanks,” Elijah muttered, pinching his nose to quell the itch.

“You pick up whatever has everyone else out this week?” she asked, taking off her apron. Elijah shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Have a good night.”

With all the servers gone, Elijah slunk back into the kitchen and sunk into his office chair, his head in his hands. He was not prepared to do a whole holiday service feeling like this. This was nightmarish, and he’d only felt sick for nine hours. Tomorrow? Tomorrow was going to be -

“Hey, bless you,” Elijah sat up and turned around at the accusation to see Greyson standing at the office door with his arms crossed. “Could’ve heard those from fuckin’ space.”

Elijah rolled his eyes, painfully. “Whatever,” he said, powering his computer up to finish the night’s paperwork. “You’re one to talk, I don’t think you’ve gone three seconds without -”

“HRRSHH-oo!” Greyson cut him off with a comically-timed sneeze directed into the collar of his shirt.

“-that,” Elijah finished.

Greyson grabbed a tissue and wiped his nose. “Yeah, but it’s been well-established that I have a cold. I was under the impression that you were still -”

“HTSHH! HRSHH! Huh-! HuhhESTZHH-ue!” Elijah once again collapsed in on himself, head both buzzing and pounding, the explosive sneezes grating the back of his throat.

“- well,” Greyson finished, and moved into the office to sit by his boss. Just as Elijah looked up from his lap, Greyson slapped a hand on his forehead.

“Enough,” Elijah said, pushing Greyson’s palm off. Greyson put both his palms on his knees and gave Elijah a knowing look.

“So, you’ve been sick all day, or…?”

“Greyson,” Elijah said, clearing his throat, “I’m fine.”

“You have a fever, Lij. Like, a pretty significant one.”

He knew, and he had known, but the words made Elijah’s eyes well and his throat close all the same. God, he hated having a fucking fever and all the stupid, ridiculous emotions that went along with it. Elijah took a breath, closed his eyes to collect himself, and addressed the chef.

“I’m not feeling 100%,” he said. “But I will be fine. You are sick – if I’m not 100%, then you must be at like 10% at this point.”

“I don’t have a fever,” Greyson pointed out, taking Elijah’s hand and placing it on his cool head. “See?”

Elijah bit his cheek to keep from snapping. “Alright,” he said. “Whatever. Still, you need to go home; it’s a big day tomorrow.”

“I will when you do,” Greyson said, shrugging. Elijah, completely spent, and done arguing, just turned off his computer – paperwork be damned for the night.

“Fine,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Let’s call it a night.”

Greyson, clearly confused, just raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Alright boss,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “See you tomorrow.”

***

If there was one thing Greyson knew about Elijah, it was this: if you wanted him to admit defeat, you had to corner him.

When he woke up at oh-dark-thirty that morning, Greyson felt lucky that he was no worse for the wear then he was the night before. Was he stuffed-up to the gills? Yes. Did he have an incessant, grating cough? Yeah. But ultimately, it was a cold, and he’d work through far worse many more times.

So, despite the fact that it was still dark out, Greyson donned his hoodie and set out for the restaurant. On the way to the early-morning subway, he called Matt.

“...Hello?” Matt answered on the third ring. “Chef?”

“Mbornin’ sunshine,” Greyson said, coughing into the receiver. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh…” Matt said, attempting to gather his bearings. “Better. Am I supposed to be at the restaurant now? I thought I was scheduled at eight.” Greyson heard him push back a blanket and plant his feet on the floor. “You sound like shit, by the way. Sorry about that.”

“Inevitable,” Greyson said, a brush-off. “And you aren’t scheduled til eight, but I have sombe very important, pre-work, Executive Sous shit I ndeed your help with.”

“Sure, boss,” Matt said, and Greyson could hear him changing clothes, using mouthwash, and whispering goodbye to Mark. “Anything you need.”

“Good man,” Greyson said, pausing at the top of the subway steps. “Could you pick up cough drops, Mucinex, and a hot water bottle, if you see one? Oh, and a real blanket. I’ll Venmo you some mboney.”

“Uh, sure, boss. Is this… for you?”

“Not for me,” Greyson said, coughing into his sleeve. “For Elijah. He’s down bad.”

“Oh. Oh, shit,” Matt said. “Yeah, okay, for sure boss. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, mban. Hey, I’mb about to head down to the subway, text mbe if you have any – hh! HTSHH-ue! Fuck, sorry,” Greyson wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “Mbaybe grab more tissues while you’re there,” he amended.

“Sure, Chef. Bless.”

“You’re the best, Mbatt. Always knew you’d make a perfect number two.”

Greyson could hear the eye roll through the phone. “Don’t get sappy, old man,” Matt said. “See you soon.”

***

To say Elijah felt like shit would’ve been the understatement of the century.

When he woke up that morning, Elijah was fairly sure he was dying. The fever he’d crawled into bed with hadn’t budged, his sinuses were packed, and he’d officially acquired the final gem on his sick-as-fuck gauntlet: the cough. This day was going to be absolute hell.

Elijah did his level best to get ready for the busy service; he managed to take about half a shower before he had to sit down, dizzy from exertion; he’d gotten one contact in before sneezing so hard he almost poked his eye out and settled on glasses; he’d even found the strength to put on a pair of pants, though a button down was entirely too much for his shaking hands, so he settled on a cardigan that looked passable enough. God he hoped the servers – and Mark – would be able to hold down the fort out front, because this was nothing short of tragic.

Unwilling to deal with the subway and unable to drive safely in this state, Elijah settled on calling an Uber to work. It was early, a little before eight, but he knew if he didn’t get there now, he’d never make it.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” the driver said, leaving Elijah to immediately regret his decision not to drive. “Pretty early to be up and at ‘em. You heading to see family?”

Elijah cleared his throat as best he could before begrudgingly responding to the driver. “Ndot quite,” he said, his voice strained and congested. “Worki – HGSTHH-ue! HRSSH! ETSZCH-uh!” Elijah attempted to hold back the sneezes, unsuccessfully. Sans any tissues, he wiped his nose on his sweater sleeve. “Excuse mbe, sorry.”

“Working and sick on a holiday?” the driver said, shaking his head. “That’s rough, man. Bless you.”

Elijah’s face flamed, but he was in no state to deny. “Yeah,” he said instead. “Thangks.”

The rest of the drive was in blessed silence, and Elijah made sure to tip the guy extra for being exposed to whatever plague he was walking around with. When he finally pushed through the back door of the restaurant, Elijah felt like he’d already lived a lifetime today; he really wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to take.

“Elijah!” Greyson’s voice reached him before Elijah could even see his face. “Happy Thanksgiving, you sick old fuck!”

Elijah turned the corner and almost burst into tears – there stood Greyson, his face pale and nose bright red, and Matt and Mark looking no better, outside of his office; his office that had been, essentially, turned into a cozy-looking bedroom.

There were blankets on the floor, the chairs removed, and medicine on the desk. The harsh office light had been shut off, and instead one of the lamps from the host stand glowed gently from behind the computer. And, perhaps most heart-rendering, in Greyson’s hand was a bowl of steaming soup, and in Matt’s, a cup of tea.

“I know you hate working the holidays, and feeling like shit is just insult to injury,” Greyson said, setting down the bowl so he could guide Elijah into the office. “So we thought we’d mbake it just a little less shitty.”

Elijah allowed himself to be lead in, unable to find the words to thank his friend. He turned into his elbow to cough, a welcome respite from the tears he could feel threatening to spill over. “Grey,” he said when he’d gathered himself. “I… this is so… you guys…” he swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head. “I don’t kndow what to say,” he said, looking up at Greyson. “Thangk you.”

“Ah, save it,” Greyson said, placing a hand on his friend’s back. “You’re always looking after us. Call it our Thanksgiving to you.”

Elijah smiled a little, punched Greyson’s arm lightly, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Heading to see family? the Uber driver had asked him. Maybe he had been, after all.

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Sydney's tower moment #Filmsywalls

And Carmy's.

So, as I mentioned here, Emanuel knows her walls are getting flimsier. And on shipping terms that is actually a good thing.

BUT

On Storer's terms, that may ALSO symbolically mean that Syd is about to come crumbling down and that her relationship with The Bear (both, restaurant and chef) is collapsing, which is what S3 was all about, basically.

I am team Syd threatening to quit Carmy's ass and THAT being the wake-up call he needs to turn it all around, that being said there is a chance that she actually does quit on him and then comes back, -as she usually does- in which case I wish she did that because he crawls and begs and rips Shapiro's head off in the process. Still, in either case, there is NO DOUBT IN MY MIND about Syd staying at The Bear and winning a star there, by Carmy's side, even maybe a JB award too. I'm basing this theory on the fact that they both hit rock bottom in 03x10 but I see that as a BREAKTHROUGH, not a breakdown.

Since Syd is clearly into tarot symbology as her 3 of swords ink indicates

I started thinking outside the box of the flimsy walls analogy I already went over in previous posts, so the image of a building collapsing came to mind, which immediately reminded me of the tower card, and turns out that the meaning of it fits the "Crying game" moment aforementioned.

I really don't wanna dig into it's meaning that deep because I think the superficial meaning fits perfectly, so there's no need to go deeper.

"This card is a powerful catalyst for change and personal transformation. You are being offered a fresh start and a chance to build stronger foundations in your life. This card brings a major life shift and the knowledge that things will never be the same."

How right on the money is that, right?

So both Carmy and Syd are at that evolutionary point of their journeys, they are mirroring each other in a very fucked up way, sure, but also... SOULMATISM.

Syd is at her breaking point and no matter what she chooses, nothing will be the same between Carmy and her after she makes her choice, and the very foundation of their whole relationship is being shaken and will have to be reformulated, re-built in a different and better way because status quo has no chance of being preserved.

"It has to get good or go away".

That's the tower energy that card represents, alongside the traumatic way in which events unfold, where the person feels is no longer in control, and that all those changes, no matter how necessary are being forced upon them. It's harsh.

Again, walls. Sydney is all about walls and for her to make the changes she has to make → (Their Synchronicity) she needed to go through her own tower moment. Carmy also went through his, exactly in the same season → (The end of Carmy). There's absolutely no coincidence in that.

"This card symbolizes the foundation of ashes in which the phoenix is born. The lightning-struck Tower is associated with chaos and destruction of boundaries."

Carmy was her lighting. And in a way, she was his too.

Love is an act of mirroring.

According to the tower card, after this collapse of walls, chaos and destruction, comes the "Phoenix moment". So, we're good. Don't dispair. She's gonna be just fine.

Sydcarmy will be just fine.

More about The tower tarot card → here.

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[zayndrivesmeinvain]

The One that Got Away - Part 2

A.N. - Part 2 is here!! Thank you to everyone who is enjoying this story thus far... please don't be scared to drop in comments, anons, questions, etc! Thank you for all of the support. xo!

Pairing: Single Dad Harry Styles

Summary: We get into Harry's head - the day he has been longing for is finally here - his year long-term girlfriend finally gets to meet the two most important girls in his life: his mother & his daughter. However, Harry wonders if it's going to go as perfect as he hopes or will there be bumps along the rode?

Word Count: 4.9K

***********************************************************************

Harry 

-

The Day has come, Elizabeth is not only meeting my parents but also my biggest pride and joy, Aria. It’s almost as though the universe is on my side - it’s at the tail end of summer where the humidity and heat are nearing the end but it’s still too hot outside during the day. I informed Alena that I will be picking Aria up around 11:00 AM so that way I can spend some time with Aria before we go to my parents and then I can go pick up Elizabeth. 

I stretch my arms across my bed and grab my phone off of my nightstand - the bright phone illuminating my very dark bedroom. My phone clearly reads 6:32 AM, which gives me some time to clean my place up, run some errands, go to the gym and then go pick up my Angel. 

Once I unlock my phone I see some notifications and emails that came through last night from some employees that include some scheduling changes, new possible clients, updates on current clients, etc. as well as two texts from my parents expressing their excitement to see Aria tonight as well as finally meet Elizabeth.

-

The day went by quickly, I started my day off by cleaning around the house and putting on fresh clean sheets for my Angel. Aria's room is princess themed, pale pink walls with a plush toddler bed filled with pillows and stuffed animals. She insisted that pictures of her and her stuffed animals be displayed across a picture light line, which illuminates her whole space when the lights are completely off. I am also fortunate enough to be able to give her; her own bathroom which is attached to her bedroom… something I am sure she will appreciate the older she gets. When I think about it, her room is the only space in my whole home that has that much color, the rest of my house is full of neutral colors with masculine accents and as much as I love it, it lacks the femininity most homes have which is why I went out last week and bought a few candles that I have scattered throughout the house. 

After organizing Aria’s room, I made my way to the gym as well as the grocery store: something else I lacked in my house, food. I’m not the best chef and I mostly eat out during the week or on occasion I will stop by my parents or Elizabeth's house for a home cooked meal. However, when Aria is here on the weekends I do my absolute best to have a stocked pantry and fridge for whatever she may be in the mood for. 

I try my hardest but by no means am I the perfect father. To be quite candid, when I found out that her mother was pregnant with her my heart sank to the floor… I was not ready to be a father. I was still early in my college career, my party stage: I was sleeping with multiple girls at a time, practically fucking someone new each day and even twice in the same day, I was drinking and smoking excessively and I felt like she was going to be such a burden on my life but I was completely wrong. The first appointment I went to with her mother, I was able to hear her little heart beat and in that moment I knew that I needed to change and be the best person I could possibly be because that little girl was going to be dependent on me. Shortly after her birth, I was able to cram in as many classes as possible and intern at my fathers law-firm which has led me down my current career path. My dream and goal is to be able to run that place myself and let my father retire,however, until that day comes I will let him shine. 

-

It’s a little before 11 AM and I have just arrived at Alena’s house. She lives in a quiet little neighborhood, filled with other kids and families alike. Her single family home is located at the end of the street which allows for her to have a bit bigger yard than the rest of her neighbors which I’m sure she loves because Aria gets a little more extra yard space to play in. It’s a newer model, which my father and I helped her buy. Alena is able to take care of herself just fine, however, I vowed to myself that I would do my best to give my child the best life which meant moving her mother into a safer neighborhood and a better school district than she was once located in. 

I make my way up her drive-way and to her front door and ring her doorbell. It takes a minute, however, I am greeted by the sweetest sight - Aria is dressed in a jean overall dress with a frilly pink shirt underneath. Her mom has clicked her hair back out of her face but a sparkly clip ahas let her chestnut curls flow down. 

“Daddy! I’m so happy to see you” my little angel is beaming up at me as I pick her up into my arms and make my way into her mothers home. Alena is standing right next to the front door and allows me to step in. 

“She’s been waiting all morning for you to come - she had us pack her bag last night and only made me change her outfit three times this morning.” I can’t help but smile as her mother tells me how excited my baby is to spend time with me. I really do adore this child with my whole heart. 

“ Well Bubs, Daddy can’t wait to spend the whole weekend with you too.” My baby girl is still in my arms as I make my way into the home and sit down on the couch with her and her mother has invited me to stay for a few minutes while Aria finishes cleaning up her room before she leaves for the weekend. 

Alena’s voice takes me out of trance. “Would you like some coffee while you wait? I just finished brewing some.” 

“ Y-Y-Yeah, thank you.” The air feels thick here. 

While Alena makes her way into her kitchen, I can’t help myself from staring at her. She’s always been a gorgeous girl, but now has most definitely transformed into a woman. Growing up she was always on the thinner side, with a little plumpness to her ass and her breasts but after having Aria her body has changed. Alena’s hips have grown to be a little wider and her thighs seem to be a little thicker, her breasts seem to be slightly bigger and might I say even a bit perkier. That once smaller ass has definitely grown with her as well. I would be lying to myself if I said she still isn’t one of the most beautiful women I have ever encountered. 

My heart instantly feels guilty though, the girl that I used to make laugh and smile ia filled with hatred and disdain due to my unfaithfulness. As I have explained previously, I by no means was a saint to Alena… I didn’t even know what the word faithful meant. Instead of keeping her pure and happy, I felt the need to go find satisfaction somewhere else and would often bury my cock in another girl while Alena and I tried the long distance thing while we were both away at different colleges. I was selfish because I couldn’t wait a weekend or two for her to come home and satisfy my needs, so I went and found other girls to satisfy me during the week and weekends she was busy. I am not proud to admit this and it’s honestly one of my biggest regrets in life to do this day but I broke her, lost her trust, and she probably still hates me. 

Her voice pulls me out of a trance once again, “ How would you like your coffee?” 

“I drink it black - good for the soul.” I try to keep conversation light to keep the mood and room feeling happy but I don’t think she wants to engage in anything further, all she gives is a small smile and hands me a mug with black coffee. 

“She’s off from school on Monday, if you’d like to keep her an extra day… I’m sure she’d love to spend the time with you…” but before I can even get in a word she cuts me off, “But if you have plans with your girlfriend or something, it’s okay. I know it’s last minute.”

“My daughter comes before anyone else - you already know this. I’ll have her back Monday after dinner if that’s okay.” I try my best to fill the awkwardness by taking a sip of coffee and letting room for her to speak but I don’t get nothing but a head nod and a quiet, “That’s fine.” 

Before it could get even more awkward, Aria makes her way into the living room and announces that she is ready for the weekend with me. She and her mother exchange a few hugs and kisses before we make our way out the door. 

Before her mother shuts the door behind us, she yells out to Aria, “ You better behave for daddy while you’re with him or no more late movie nights when you get back for a whole week!” 

I would be lying to myself if I don't admit that hearing Alena reference me as daddy didn’t make my cock twitch a little. 

- 

Aria and I have been at my parents for the last 3 hours and it’s almost time for me to go pick up Elizabeth. My heart is pounding out of my chest. Besides Alena, my parents have never met another girlfriend of mine, but that’s mostly due to us not staying together or constantly breaking up. I had this one girlfriend about a year ago. Her name was Camila. Camila was a beautiful bombshell, gorgeous body with long blonde hair but she was so irritating and sharp as a bowling ball… we had nothing in common but she was great in bed and satisfied my needs. But that wasn’t her biggest downfall - her biggest downfall was that she was extremely insecure and even if another woman walked in my direction she thought I had eyes for them, which was not the case. Ultimately, we were on and off for about 2 years but I figured I wouldn’t tell anyone because I knew she wasn’t going to be in it for the long haul and was only a temporary fix to my desire and need to have someone around. 

However, when I met Elizabeth shortly after Camila, I knew she was different. Elizabeth is poised, elegant but most definitely has an erotic side that fits in perfectly with my desires. She’s about 5’8 with jet black hair that hits the middle of her back, and more on the athletic build. She has these gorgeous bright blue eyes that remind me of the ocean and the most sexy smile. She’s knowledgeable, smart and sophisticated and I can actually hold a conversation with her - and to top it off she has a good heart. As much as I deeply care for her, tonight will be the true testament on what the next steps are in our relationship because if tonight doesn’t go best I am hoping, then I have a lot to reconsider. 

“Aria, baby… daddy is going to be right back. I’m going to go pick-up one of my friends and bring her over. Okay?” Aria, my parents and I have been sitting in the backyard for the last hour, Aria has sprawled out on me and she’s been trying to fight a nap. Her mother informed me that, around this time she puts her down for a nap because she will get cranky and boy was she right. 

“N-No, please d-d-dont go.” her eyes started to spark up tears, she digs her head further into my chest and closes her grip onto my shirt. I truly have never seen this side of her, it seems as though her mother sees it all the time though. Her mother warned me about her restlessness and how quickly she can go from a sweet angel to a saucy devil. 

“Baby, Daddy won’t be gone for long..” I moved her off of my chest softly, so I can look into her eyes as I speak to her. I want her to know that she is safe with me - she is loved and I would never break my promises to her. Her tears have already started to mark her clothes and I do the best I can wiping her tears away with my thumbs. “ I promise when I get back, we can play as much as you want.” I place tender kisses on her forehead all the way down to her little toes until I spark that laugh that sounds like music to my ears. 

- 

The whole drive to Elizabeth’s my stomach was in knots. I really don’t have anything to be nervous about, but here I am, sweating like a prostitute in church. The drive to Elizabeths from my parents house was close to a 35-minute drive, enough time to be alone with her, but not too much time away from Aria. 

When I arrive at Elizabeth's apartment complex, I send her a text that I am waiting for her outside. I originally had insisted that I’d come inside to pick her up, which I have done plenty of times before, however, she let me know that she had her sister staying with her temporarily due to a her sisters awful break-up and she thinks that seeing another male species will only infuriate her sister even more. 

Elizabeth looks absolutely divine making her way to my car. She has a beautiful sundress that is a shade of cream, with spaghetti straps that tie on the ends. Her sundress hits just to the mid of her calf and she has on these tan sandals. Her jet black hair has been curled on the ends, and her make-up seems to be done-up more than usual. She’s effortlessly gorgeous. 

“Well hello there m’darling.” her perfume encapsulates my car, it’s vanilla. “I missed you,Harry.” Her plump pink lips meet with mine and all I can think about is wanting to devour her later. Her lips taste like cherry, and I notice that some of her lipstick has rubbed off on me. 

“Har, I’m nervous…” her voice was much more timid than I was used to hearing. 

“M’darling, there’s absolutely nothing to be nervous about. It’s all going to go well.” I don’t know if it was saying all of this to convince her or me because to be honest I was nervous as well. I use my free hand to rub small circles around her thigh. 

“Have you ever introduced her to any other girlfriends of yours?” I know she’s just trying to make small talk because we had this same conversation just earlier this week. 

“Nope, you’re the first one.” I passed a small smirk over to her in hopes that it would comfort her and from the looks of it, her nerves must have calmed down a bit because her cheeks aren’t as flush. 

“Har, what if she doesn’t like me? I mean, she doesn't have to but I would like her too.” she's starting to ramble, something I noticed she does when she wants to get her feelings out but doesn’t want to come off as too pushy or demanding or even opinionated. The first time I picked up on this trait was when she stayed over my house for the first time. We had just gotten out of the shower together, and I stepped out of the shower without wrapping myself in a towel first, and she was mortified because my tile flooring was soaked, and she deemed it as a slipping hazard. She says she wasn’t trying to be a nag, but all she did that night was express to me all the different ways she and I could have gotten hurt. 

“M’darling, I have a feeling she’s going to love you. However, just try and stay open minded and not too handsy infront of her - I must warn you… she can get a little overprotective at times, Alena and I are working on teaching her the importance of sharing.” The mention of my daughter's mother seems to have struck a chord in Elizabeth's mood but I’m going to blame it on her nerves, rather than anything else. 

The rest of the 20 minute ride to my parents was spent in silence, with the radio being used more so as background noise than actually for listening. By no means did I make that comment to upset Elizabeth, however, she is fully aware of the relationship I have with Alena. I have explained to her once before that Alena and I are just two people who are co parenting - I wouldn’t even call us friends at this point in time. Alena and I rarely communicate, unless it is solely about Aria but we do text each other Happy Birthday every year but even that seems forced. When I think about it, the best way to describe it is that I have love for her but I am not in love with her. My love for her comes from the fact that she is primarily raising our daughter, cares for our daughter, and is the absolute best mother to our daughter and I have massive respect for her, but that is it. 

“Well we’re here, Babe. Let’s go show them how beautiful you are inside and out.” I pulled Elizabeth in for a tender kiss on her lips, my hands cupping her face gently.I don’t want a silly comment to ruin her mood for the rest of the night, nor do I ever want her to worry about how much I care about her and how much she means. 

“I’m ready, Har.” a large smile was plastered on her face - there’s the Elizabeth that I know. 

-

So far, so good. My mom Anne, was already so smitten with Elizabeth - they apparently already have so much in common from what books they enjoy reading, reality TV shows they enjoy to even their favorite stores, it’s almost like they are the same person the only difference is their looks. My mom is a petite woman with dark chocolate brown hair, and her eyes are the color of the sea, her smile is the best part of her - it could light up any room. Throughout my whole life, my mother has been my biggest supporter, even when I was being a piece of shit son and a horrible partner to Aria’s mom. The one quality I admire the most about my mother is her ability to forgive - when I was around the age of sixteen, my father had an affair with his then receptionist. I remember her, she was this beautiful bombshell with the biggest tits and always wore very tight pencil skirts. My father hadn’t come home for dinner yet and it was getting late, my mother had called him at least twice and she had asked me to go with her to his office in case something was wrong and when we got there, there was definitely something not right. All the lights in his firm had been dimmed besides his office and we could hear quiet muffles coming from down the hall. When I tell you, I’ve never been so heart broken for my mother. I am not joking. There my father was, plowing into his reception while her skirt was hiked up to her hips, her tits bouncing up and down while she rode him. Her mouth was gaped open while she moaned obnoxiously, by the time she and my father noticed that my mother and I were watching, they were both coming down from their high. 

That night was one of the worst nights of my life - my perfect family that I once knew was broken and I was positive that it would never be fixed. It took my mother 2 years to discuss with my father what had happened that night and how it made her feel. For two years, my father temporarily lived in an apartment because my mom did not allow him to come home - even though it was his house that he had bought. My father, even though a tough man, knew he had fucked up and he was not man enough to face my mother until she was ready, a man who rarely wined and dined my mother was now sending her flowers and gifts almost every day, but my mother never accepted them - all she wanted was a faithful husband who loved her and no one else. I believe that my fathers infidelity dimmed my mothers light for a while, however, when she learned of my infidelity and crazy antics when I was younger, that really broke her. My mother believed that she failed as a parent because I grew up to just be like my father, a cheater. 

Fast forward to now, my mother and father still live in the same house but I can tell that everything is much much different now. My mother doesn’t smile or laugh as much as she used. She has lost a bit of weight and now started to wear clothes that accentuate her body ever so slightly. My father doesn’t go into the office as much and prefers to work from home, he likes to say it’s because he’s trying to let me get my feet wet into the business and he wants to be behind the scenes but I know it’s because my mother doesn’t trust him anymore and he wants nothing more to regain her trust. 

- 

“Honey, Harry here tells us that you work at an account firm. How do you like it?” We’re sitting outside on the patio deck, and my mom has just brought out the last of the dinner for everyone. 

“Oh yes, it’s honestly really great. I really love the people I work for and really enjoy my profession. I’ve always been so interested in numbers and accounting.” Elizabeth is beaming a smile over to my mother, and my mother just seems like she is in complete awe of her. 

“Oh that's just wonderful! And how long have you been with this company?” I appreciate the effort my mothers makes to make Elizabeth comfortable, but all she’s been doing is asking this poor girl questions, she hasn’t even had the chance to really let her eat. 

“ Oh, just over two years now. I originally started off as an intern but have started to make my way up. I’m currently working as a front desk operator, but they say a position should be opening up very shortly which will allow me to move up in my career.” Finally, Elizabeths able to take a bite of her dinner. 

“It’s allowed me to learn a lot of the administrative aspects of the business, so I’ve learned to really appreciate how much detailing goes into their day to day to make everyone else's job easy as possible, to be honest, before my initial internship I didn’t really understand what exactly it meant to be an accountant… I just knew that's what I was supposed to do in life.” Before my mother could follow-up in the conversation, a small frame was standing at the sliding doors as they had just woken up. 

Right as I had arrived with Elizabeth to my parents house, my mother had texted me to inform me that Aria had fallen asleep for her nap. As much as I would have loved to have a grand reveal meeting between Elizabeth and Aria, my baby’s nap was most important. 

“ Oh look who woke up from their nap.” my baby girl slid the doors open and made her way into my arms. It was obvious that she was still groggy because she didn’t even acknowledge the people around us, all she managed to do was place her head in the crook of my neck. 

“Bubs, I have a special friend I want’ya to meet.” I could tell that Elizabeth was hoping for the best, her eyes were full of eagerness. Aria turned her body away from me and looked in Elizabeth’s direction. I was treading with caution and allowing Aria to lead the way into this new interaction, I didn’t want to push her if she wasn’t ready. Aria didn’t say much but she did manage to smile shyly and give her a wave, which I think is a good start. 

“ Hi my name’s Elizabeth, what’s yours?” Elizabeth hesitantly placed her hand out for a hand shake and surprisingly Aria took the bait and shook Elizabeth's hand back. 

“ My name’s Aria.” she was a shy one tonight. 

For the rest of the night, Aria didn’t interact much with Elizabeth, she primarily just sat on my lap while she played with her toys. I can tell that Elizabeth wants to try and interact with Aria more but doesn’t want to push the issue anymore, I can sense her hope for a relationship but I had warned her about this. I had warned her that this was all still very new for Aria, myself and even her mother. 

-

The night was coming to an end, it was roughly a bit after 9:30 PM, and Aria has fallen asleep on my parents' living room sofa. My mom suggested I take Elizabeth home first and then come back for Aria, she said it would give us some “alone time”. 

The drive back to Elizabeth’s started off quiet but I finally broke the silence. 

“I’m sorry it didn’t go the way you had expected. I’m positive she’ll warm up soon enough, my love.” I placed my hand gently on her thigh and traced small circles on her knee. 

“Har, there’s nothing to apologize about. She doesn’t know me…” I could sense the disappointment in her voice but there was only so much I could do or say, things like this take time especially when another parent is involved. “ Har, I think we need to focus on our relationship and build it before we try to do things all together again - I can sense the love you and your daughter share, however, I don’t think she’s ready for you to share her with me.” 

“ Elizabeth, I’m sorry you feel this way but I believe I made it very clear to you that above all I am a father. I don’t think it’s fair to make a judgment call based on one interaction.” Her confession irritates me because I did not lead her on to believe that anyone or anything would come above Aria. 

“ You have made it clear to me, multiple times actually. I love spending time with you, being with you, loving you. But I don’t think you’re actually as ready as you think you are to allow me in, in regard to that part of your life.” 

We have approached her building complex, she hasn’t gotten out of the car yet but I also haven’t asked her to. 

“ Har, you’re a great guy but I think you have a lot to think about. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready… I would never in a million years try to take you away from your daughter, but I also want to make sure that you’re actually ready for something serious.” she turns her body so she's now facing me.

“ I want you to be with me effortlessly, I don’t want to feel like I am competing for your attention, and right now… and even times before, it feels like no matter what I say, you’re always bringing up your daughter in some way as an excuse as to why something can’t happen or something can’t be done or it doesn’t meet expectations, or whatever. Harry, I want you but I need you to want me too and be ready for me and all that comes with being in an actual mutually loving relationship. Does that make sense?” 

Her words were harsh, but they were true. She was coming from a place of love, her voice stayed calm and gentle, yet they were full of emotion. I feel horrible that I have made her feel this way, yet she seems so understanding… As much as I care for this woman, I am not ready for her. 

“I’m sorry for dragging you along this whole time, when you did not feel as though I was fully there for you.” I gently grab her hands into mine. “ I want to continue seeing you and growing with you… but I think you’re right.” It actually really hurts to admit this out loud, but it needed to be said. “ Where do we go from here?” I don’t want this to end, I care for her alot and before she even gets the chance to respond I blurt out the only thing that comes to mind. 

“Liz, I love you.” 

Tagged List: @wittlecritter @gurugirl @kathb59 @betchyharry @styles1999

[greatbritishsimchallenge]

"This is quite a feast, Lady Margaret."

"Yes, I must confess to being a great lover of food. It is not so much a question of how much, but what kind - I never seem able to pick and so the chef makes it all!"

Lady Catherine pursed her lips disapprovingly, "In the English Pure Faith, we believe that both gluttony and waste are great sins."

"Oh, but I would agree, Lady Catherine. That is why you need not eat beyond your hunger and anything we do not eat is enjoyed by the servants - tell me, how often do your servants dine on the finest food of their kingdom?"

Lady Catherine forced a polite smile and continued eating.

The door to the dining room opened and Margaret entered.

"Margaret!" scolded Catherine. "What are you doing here?"

"I... I was sent for, mama! I was told to come here for my dinner!"

"Indeed, ma cherie, and you are just in time. Please, take a seat where you please," smiled Lady Margaret.

"Excuse me, Lady Margaret, is that wholly appropriate? For a child to dine with us?"

Lady Margaret shrugged. "I always ate with my parents. Some of my happiest memories are being sat with them discussing art and literature while eating tarts and pies and all sorts." Margaret's voice trailed off dreamily, though it was not quite clear whether it was the memory of the conversation or the food that had her more enraptured.

"Well, in England, children eat with their governess - now, Margaret, off you go. Return to Lady Mary at once."

Without another word, Margaret turned on her heel and left as quickly as she had come.

Lady Margaret lowered her head politely, "I apologise for my mistake, Lady Catherine. Clearly the ways of England and Tartosa are more different than I had appreciated. I have only ever visited England once, and it was not for very long. I am therefore not familiar with your customs. Please, forgive me."

"Not at all, Lady Margaret. You have extended your hospitality to us with an unwavering generosity. A few cultural clashes are more than understandable, but I hope you will understand that I intend to raise my daughters the English way."

"Oui, bien sur! Though I hope you might allow me to help where I can?" asked Lady Margaret.

"'Help', Lady Margaret?" repeated Catherine, confused.

"Oui - you mentioned the governness. It must be very hard for her to manage two children of such different ages."

"Lady Mary is an excellent teacher and manages them both well."

"Oh, I did not mean to offend Lady Mary. I am sure she is superb. I just meant that I could support her while you are here."

"You would want to act as a governness?" asked Lady Catherine, confused that a Lady of such high estate would even consider taking on such a role.

"I would not see it in those terms, but I would like to be a mentor of sorts to Lady Margaret while she is here. I will leave raising her the 'English' way to you, of course, but I have my own knowledge to impart, I am sure."

"Is that so? I was given to believe that the Lords and Ladies of Europe viewed education as beneath them and valued one's ability to dance and make good conversation above any learning," replied Lady Catherine, a touch of smug superiority to her tone.

"Unfortunately, yes, that is the stance many take. But not my parents. They saw that I valued education most highly. Let me think... I speak seven languages, play piano, lute and vielle. My painting is not as impressive as my parents, but it is regarded well. I have multiple degrees in the sciences and arts and I am currently studying the history and law of Tartosa. Do you think any of that might be of use to your daughter?" Lady Margaret smiled politely, but her eyes had a playful glint to them, as if she had just moved a chess piece to checkmate against a cocky opponent.

Lady Catherine fought to hide how impressed she was, "I think perhaps, yes."

Start (Iron Age) | Start (Roman Britain) | Start (Anglo Saxon) | Start (Medieval) | Start (Tudor) | Start (Stuart)

Previous | Next

[josefavomjaaga]

Dragon!Soult meets Ney (June 1796)

This is another contribution to @cadmusfly's dragon marshalate au. Inspired by an actual event that happened in 1796, Soult's retreat from Herborn, supported by Ney (as detailed in the memoirs of Ney published by his family). I turned it into the first meeting of Soult and his future partner in crime rider, Ney.

Dust and disappointment had settled on the men's faces in equal measures. Now exhaustion added to it, resulting in an overwhelming sense of dread. The chaotic retreat they had executed during the last hours had infuriated chef d'escadron Michel Ney. But there was little he could do, except try to keep his squadron of hussars together and in a condition that might allow them to fight back. If ever that chance arose, despite the current lack of command or overall sense of direction. In fact, this was the first time the French could catch a breath and reunite some of the troops the numerically superior Austrians had dispersed. Routed, truth be told, but Ney did not want to use this term, not even in his thoughts. He watched as some of his superiors, among them general Kleber, in charge of the vanguard, general-in-chief Jourdan and the dragon general Lefebvre, gathered for an impromptu war council. Ney dismounted and led his horse a bit closer, so he could listen in. He immediately noticed that Lefebvre was just as furious as he, his tail angrily snapping through the air, his telepathic voice clearly audible outside the small circle of generals, down to his Alsatian accent. Usually, rather large dragons like him would crouch or lie down on the ground when interacting with humans, to be somewhat on their eye level. Right now, Lefebvre was standing up, despite his visible exhaustion, seemingly unable to calm down, stomping the ground with one or several of his six claws repeatedly. What do you mean I can’t go? I may be tired, true. But I’ll still be able to fly far enough to reach those damned Austrian bastards and kill a few of them. I’ll just drop down on them and crush them when I’m at the end of my forces. I’d gladly get myself killed for that pleasure. "Don’t be foolish, old friend." That was Kléber, again with the Alsatian accent. "This would be a big loss for barely a gain", Jourdan added. "We will get back at them, Lefebvre, don’t you worry. But first we need to regroup, reorganise the troops, give everyone a chance to recover. Then we strike back." Now you’re talking! - Lefebvre now did stretch out on the ground, his large body blocking a part of the road. He didn’t seem to care. - To be honest, I could need some rest. And I’m not sure I still could fly. Not sure I could even only walk back before falling into stupor. "Please don’t do that right now." Kléber rubbed his face. "You’re our only dragon left at the vanguard. We might still need you.« Lefebvre’s head rose from his paws. - The only? Where’s the drakeling then?

"Whom do you mean?" Jourdan shook his head. "We’ve sent all dragon units back to join Marceau. Especially the young, as they were quite exhausted." Why, I mean the boy of course. Little Soult. Jourdan looked at Kléber, he seemed confused. "Are you talking about that maroon dragon who was part of your staff? The one almost your size?" He may be getting close to me in size but he’s still growing, Lefebvre retorted impatiently. - Boy barely learned how to properly use his wings. So, where is he? You had sent him to Herborn with his infantry unit, if memory serves? Where did you tell him to go? A long silence followed. The generals were exchanging rapid glances, several shrugged apologetically, somebody coughed. Are you trying to tell me that nobody told Soult about our retreat? - Lefebvre’s telepathic voice now boomed over the road, loud enough for everyone in the whole camp to hear. - That he is back there alone, surrounded by the Austrians? "Well", Kleber said sheepishly, "I kinda had assumed that you had ..." You know precisely how bad I am with all that organisational and telepathy stuff! That is exactly what I need Soult for! Besides, I only learned about the order to retreat by accident myself! The kid was not even under my command! "Could you reach out to him now?", asked Jourdan. Lefebvre's answer was accompanied by a deep, guttural growl. - As exhausted as I am, over such a distance? No way. I need to focus for this kind of thing, and right now, I can barely keep my wits together enough to not fall asleep.

The awkward silence returned. Finally, Jourdan said: "Maybe he’s started his retreat of his own accord. He and his men might already be on their way to join us." Lefebvre seemed sceptical. - What were his orders? "To hold the position at Herborn in order to cover our left flank." No conditions? No if, no until, no unless? - Then he’ll hold out until the bitter end. The boy breathes hierarchy. An order is an order. If he has not learned of our retreat and assumes that we’re still there holding the line, he will not budge. The generals were about to start arguing again but Ney felt he needed to interfere. Of course he was aware that he was overstepping his boundaries. But what use was a prolonged discussion when it was clear something had to be done? "I can go", he blurted out, taking another step closer. "My men and I had not seen much action yet before we were told to run. We’d love to bash in some enemy heads, maybe save those men and their dragon in the process if there’s still time." The generals looked at him thoughtfully. "They’re most likely already surrounded", said Jourdan. Ney shrugged. "We’ll fight our way through, then." There’s no time to loose! If the redhead wants to go, let him go! At the very least we need to see what happened to them! "Alright!" Jourdan nodded. "Go get what you need to prepare, fresh horses if you can find any. Don’t forget to restock in ammunition, as that of Soult’s men must be quite depleted when you reach them. Then set off, and bring us news. Good luck!"

- It took them almost a day to get back to where the cut-off troops were supposed to be, during which they had to alternately hide from marching Austrian corps too strong for them to fight, and sabre their way through smaller units trying to hold them up. When they finally reached the surroundings of Herborn, it was not hard to figure out where precisely to find their brothers in arms. The sound of cannon fire from a wooded hill close by was a dead giveaway. "They’re still holding out!", one of Ney’s cavalrymen exclaimed. "Those guys are crazy! Anybody with half a brain would have surrendered by now!" From their position on a light slope, they could barely make out the lines of blue French uniforms, hidden behind trees and scrubs, firing at the Austrians coming at them from all sides. And then, all of a sudden, a large dark shadow rose from the foliage, above the bushes lining the forrest, launching itself at a group of Austrians threatening to break through. The white-clad enemies froze in shock, then turned and took to their heels. The dragon did not pursue them but immediately returned into the cover provided by the forrest. In truth, he had not flown at the Austrians before. It had been more of a leap, a pounce. Presumably, he was already too exhausted to fly, or at the very least felt the need to save his strength in order to prolong the fight. His return caused some satisfaction among the men defending the hill, their cheering drifted over to where Ney and his men were holding.

"Let’s try to save the madmen", Ney commented drily. "The Austrians are busy running, this might be our best chance to get through." There was some resistance from a unit of Austrian cavalry trying to take them in the flank, but Ney’s men made it. And as soon as the beleaguered French in the forrest recognized the approaching strangers as friends, they attacked the Austrians with such well-aimed gunfire that the enemies hastily turned their horses away. Ney’s men entered the camp, welcomed by another round of cheers. "Who’s in command here?" "The dragon." A man, his grin gleaming white out of a face darkened from gun powder, grabbed the horse’s reigns from Ney with one hand and with the other pointed at a large, dark maroon mass of muscles and scales that was croaching on the ground in the middle of the camp and scrutinizing Ney from behind half-closed lids. "Greetings." Ney decided that this was not the time for lengthy introductions. "General Jourdan and general Kléber sent us to bring you the order to retreat." Glad to see you. The dragon’s voice in Ney’s head sounded dark and somewhat flat, as if deliberately held back. - I had almost feared headquarters had forgotten about us. "Actually, that’s pretty much what happened", said Ney. "You’re the only unit still holding out, the rest of the army is already retreating behind the river Lahn. I’m Ney, by the way." Soult of Saint-Amans. - Presumably, that was the dragon’s name. Or possibly an unknown curse. The situation surely was dire enough to allow the use of profanities.

Did you experience any difficulties in reaching us? Ney heard the dragon’s voice again after a moment of silence. "Difficulties? You’re entirely cut off. I doubt many others than us would have gotten through to you at all. You have enemies on all sides. We barely expected to find you still fighting." The silence returned. This dragon clearly was not of the chatty variety. "So, need any help from me and my men in order to get out of here?" We’re good. - The dragon sounded almost offended by the offer. "Oh, come on." Ney nearly started laughing. He understood military pride but this was ridiculous. "Your situation is desperate. You have gotten lucky so far but as soon as the Austrians attack in earnest, it’s over." What you witnessed on arrival was the fifth attempt by the Austrians to take our position, the dragon informed him matter-of-factly. - According to my calculations we can fight off a sixth and a seventh as well. We could possibly hold out longer. But we only have the small guns of our riding artillery at our disposition, and our ammunition is almost depleted. "Well, as far as that is concerned, we brought some stocks." I see. This help is gladly accepted. - There was another silence, then the dragon’s voice added, almost sheepishly: My thanks. Maybe this was a way of apologizing for his rude tone before. Ney suppressed a sigh. Dragons. You never knew with them. He had been told some were not much acquainted with human behaviour and common courtesy. And some were but didn’t care.

"So, how about me and my men at least create some diversion in order to facilitate your men’s escape?" Ney proposed. "If we cause enough chaos among the Austrians, and if you’re running quick enough, some of you might just be able to reach the main road leading west." I do not plan on leaving any of my men behind. They have fought like lions. They deserve to be safe. "What is your plan then?" To march out in formation, flags flying, and to fend off the Austrian attacks as we have done until now. I regret not having a full band here but the sound of our drums will replace that of ‚Ça ira’. Ney decided that these guys definitely were crazy. "That’s quite a daring plan that might lead you all right into disaster, after you managed to hold out for so long." To the contrary. An organised, slow retreat, if done well, is the only option promising success. At least more pomising than a reckless dash over open territory that might at best save a few but would give the Austrians the possibility to take us out one by one. Ney thought about how the rest of the Sambre-et-Meuse army had been routed. He admitted that the dragon had a point. "Well, I’m looking forward to how your plan will be executed. Any objections against me and my hussars tagging along?" Not at all, I’d even be honoured. - Ah, apparently the dragon could be civil if he wanted to. - You might provide us with valuable information during our march. "Ha. So you do want my help, yes?" There was a tingling sensation in Ney’s mind that accompanied the dragon’s telepathic message, something like the idea of grim amusement. Ney assumed it was the dragon’s way to smirk. Well, to be honest, our situation is indeed pretty desperate.

- They marched at first in a column, the dragon at its head, artillery, baggage and ammunition carts in the middle. For a long moment the enemy stared at them, presumably in disbelief, then they decided to do the obvious, send cavalry at them and sabre these suicidal idiots to pieces. Even Ney and his men in their hiding place sensed the dragon’s commands that, within seconds, as it seemed, caused his men to form a square. By the time the Austrian horses reached the French troops, they encountered a human wall decorated with bayonetts on every side, surrounding in their middle the dragon, the carts and the little artillery they had. Ney’s men had distributed what they could share in ammunition among Soult’s men, and those put the powder and bullets to good use. Bodies in white uniforms, now sprinkled with red, dropped to the ground around the French square, riderless horses ran free. Now would be a good time. That much Ney knew himself, no need for this annoying dragon to tell him. The ease with which Soult managed to convey his orders, and the commanding force that somehow accompanied it, astonished Ney, but mostly it annoyed him. "Let’s go!" he called out to his men. "Let’s show that oversized crossbreed of a lizard and a bat what we can do!" As they broke out of the forrest at a galopp, yelling war cries, sabres flashing, crashing into the flank of the already confused Austrian cavalrymen and sending them to flee for good, Ney sensed another emotion in his mind. And it was not his own. It felt like a bit of piqued pride, mingled with grim amusement and, a heartbeat later, surprise. Had the dragon somehow sensed what Ney had told his men? And had Ney just picked up on the dragon’s reaction to it? It seems so. I apologize, the mental link allowing us to communicate in thought must be stronger than necessary. But your emotions also were really … loud, if you allow me to phrase it like that.

"Yeah, whatever. Just stop talking to me, I have some Austrians to kill here. Smalltalk during battle is highly confusing!" I tend to agree. Both about the Austrians and the confusion. While Ney and his hussars put the enemy cavalry to flight, the dragon took another giant leap over the rows of his men, clawing at some enemies who apparently had not yet got the message. The sight of dragon claws and dragon teeth taught them quickly enough, and they started running as well. Everybody hold formation. Close ranks. We continue our movement. My sincere thanks to chef d’escadron Ney and his hussars. This time, the dragon’s telepathic message seemingly was directed at his men – and somehow at Ney’s, too. Cheering, the hussars raised their sabers in greeting, Soult’s infantrymen answered by waving their muskets. Half an hour and another minor engagement later, they reached the main road. Ney, covering the infantry’s march at a short distance to the side, barely dared to believe it: they actually had broken through the ring of enemies. It’s a first step. We’re not out of danger yet, if the area really is as full of enemies as you told us.

"Are you still reading my mind?" I cannot read anyone’s mind. I can only answer to what is directed at me. "I did not fucking direct anything at you! Why are you still in my thoughts?" Why do you keep dragging me in? Just close your mind. "How?" How would I know? Do what you did before. As far as I have learned, if you didn’t expect me to answer to your thoughts, if you did not in some way direct them at me, I would never be aware of them. This was the first time I sensed your thoughts since we came out of the combat against the Austrians, so I guess this was the first time you directed a thought at me. "I fucking didn’t!" Why would he, after all? Why would Ney care about the opinion of some stupid dragon general? I do not know but I’m glad you seem to do. After all, it is only reasonable to coordinate our movements. "Get. Out. Of. My. Thoughts." Ney could clearly sense that the dragon was still there, that he had indeed heard him. He even believed to sense something that was probably the dragon equivalent of a deep sigh. But Soult did not answer, so Ney could at least pretend that he had won the discussion. "Sir?" One of his hussars looked at Ney quizzically. "Are you feeling alright? You were talking to yourself, it seems." "I’m fine." Ney turned his horse around und clapped his spurs to it, signalling his hussars to follow suit. ‚We’re scouting the region ahead’, he thought. Pointedly.

If I am allowed to answer this time, I’ll call that a splendid idea. Thank you. Ney refused to answer or to even acknowledge the dragon’s reply. Instead, he tried to get as much distance between himself and that annoying winged reptile as he could, hoping this would break the link. It seemed to work. Or maybe it was the fact that Ney had to focus on other things. Like, not being detected by Austrian patrols, of which they saw several, though none of them were very strong. They returned to the marching infantry. Dusk was approaching, Soult’s men were setting up camp at a short distance from the road, hidden behind some hedges, in an orchard. The returning hussars could easily have missed it but as soon as Ney started wondering about where to find Soult, he again sensed the dragon’s presence in his mind. This whole dragon business was crazy as hell, he thought. May I ask if you have ever worked closely with one of my kind before? "Not really. I’ve met Lefebvre a couple of times, but only for brief interviews." Were there no dragons where you grew up? "In Saarlouis? Not that I’m aware of. Surely not in our quarter." I see. Would you prefer to come here so we can discuss matters directly, in each others’ presence? It might seem more natural to you. "We’re on our way already." -

Ney’s horse was grazing while its rider had his "talk" with the dragon, audibly crunching tiny green apples between its teeth that had fallen off the trees and now hid in the lush grass. Soult was quite happy about the information he received. I only wish we had a better grasp on the overall situation. You and your men are our only eyes and ears. Without you, we’d be marching blind into territory probably controlled by the enemy. "We’ve been doing our best but we cannot cover a larger territory. The horses need rest, at least for a couple of hours." So do the men. You have done much for us already. We shall wait until dawn. Ney hesitated. "Why don’t you do it? Scout the area, I mean. You’re a dragon. You can fly." I could. If I was not so exhausted myself. Flying, lifting a body as large as mine into the air, takes a lot of strength. I’m trying to save mine for battles. "But if we knew about Austrian troops on the road between us and our main army, we could probably avoid the battles entirely. No need to save your strength then." Soult seemed to ponder that. - You may be right. But dragons do not make the best scouts. In my opinion.

"What are you on about? That’s what they’re most often used for." And not always with satisfactory results. It’s quite easy to overlook or misinterpret things from above, especially when you at the same time need to focus on navigating thermals, wind gusts and air currents. That’s why most often, dragon scouts are given a rider. He looked at Ney quizzically, his head slightly tilting to one side. Ney put one fist on his hip. "Is that an offer? Or a challenge?" You have come to us through enemy territory, you are obviously daring. You also seem to be quite attentive and intelligent. So unless you have bad eyesight… "Nothing wrong with my eyes. I’m game if you are. How does this work?" We brought a harness and a saddle with us for such occasions. "Wonderful", Ney said. He did not feel quite as bold as his tone indicated but he would rather be quartered than admitting that in front of the dragon. "When?"

It will soon be dark. Let us take some rest and set out at dawn. - Climbing into the saddle he felt a bit awkward, and the sudden jolt as the dragon spread its massive wings and took to the air made Ney cling tightly to the saddle until his knuckles turned white. But once he had gotten used to that, he was mesmerized. He had always loved riding. The rush, the speed, the sheer power of a horse at full galopp – but what were they compared to this? "My god, we’re flying! We’re really flying!" That was the plan, yes. Wind forcefully tugged at Ney's hair. He saw the camp getting smaller under him. He had imagined he’d feel uneasy about that but he’d imagined wrong. This was not only not scary – this was great! This was the best thing he’d ever had! I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself but could you focus on the task at hand?

"Sure! Can you go higher?" I could but it would be contrary to the purpose of this endeavour. "Oh, come on, don’t be such a tightass. Just a little. And can you still go faster?" I try to organise my forces. "Go faster. We don’t need to linger here, my hussars have scouted this region already." Maybe Soult was not completely unimpressed by Ney’s enthusiasm. Or he wanted to show off. He did rise higher and he did go faster. Not much, but still. Ney loved it. Could you please start looking for Austrians now? Ney did. They followed the main road almost to the river Lahn. The bridge was still in the hands of the French, as the tricolor over the barricades clearly indicated, and Ney estimated the infantry would be able to reach it by afternoon. The road seemed to be mostly free. Except for a unit of white-clad soldiers that Ney discovered forraging in a village close to the road when he and Soult were already on their way back. "Go down! We can take them on!"

Why would we do that? "Why not?" It’s only a small forraging party, they’re unlikely to try bothering our march. "So? They could still alert their superiors and bring back the main army to block our way. Let’s attack them and teach them a lesson." But then they will surely alert their superiors and come after us. "Not if we scare them enough. Besides, they’ll probably think we came from the other side of the river." When Soult still hesitated, he leaned forward and dug his heels into Soult’s sides like he would have done with a horse. "Oh come on! I need to get some revenge for the way they routed us!" Stop fidgeting about! And don’t kick me, I’m not a mule! Also, hold on to the saddle. We’re going down.

And then they went down. - Neither Ney nor Soult ever learned about it, but their action this morning occasioned a rather distressed report two hours later, given by the Austrian forraging party to their superior officers, once the Habsburg soldiers had dared to leave their hiding places. "Yes, a dragon … a pretty big one … clawing and biting at us … and some red-faced, red-haired lunatic on his back, screaming at the top of his lungs and shooting his pistols and swinging his sabre left and right … even the dragon told him to stop that because the madman put the dragon’s wings at risk… frankly, I do not know which of those two was scarier..." - By that time, Ney and Soult had long rejoined their men. Whom they found already on the march, with Ney’s riders scouting ahead like the day before. Both units greeted them with the obligatory cheers. "Did they set out on their own?" No. I’d given orders. Right before you felt the need to attack those hapless Habsburgs.

"You really can just give orders with your thoughts to anyone like that? At such a distance? I must say I am impressed. A bit." I’ve become quite good at it. I worked and practised a lot. I used to be Lefebvre’s chief-of-staff. - The dragon sounded really proud of that feat. Ney also noticed how Soult’s breathing grew somewhat heavier as the dragon prepared to land next to the marching soldiers. "You alright?" I’m tired. I told you flying would take a toll on me. And that was without taking an utterly pointless fight against Austrians into account. Ney felt a bit bad but didn’t quite want to admit it. "Come on now, that was fun. I’m sure you enjoyed it, I could feel it. Also, I always imagined dragon powers were boundless." I wish they were. Hold tight to the saddle. - There was a big thud as the dragon somewhat clumsily touched ground, then Ney felt the dragon wings brush beside him as Soult folded them close to his body. - Alright. We made it. I’ll need to take a long nap once we’re safe with the main army.

Merde. Exhausting Soult to this point had not been Ney’s intention. He just had felt so powerful, almost invincible – there had been no way to resist that! Still, there was something in his mind that resembled a bad conscience. "Will you be able to get to the river on foot? Do you want me to get off so you don’t have to carry my weight?" To the contrary. Please stay. - The dragon hesitated once more, as if he, too, did not quite want to admit something. - I feel like your … great enthusiasm may actually help me. Also, if you ride on my back I could eat your horse in order to regain some of my strength. - Before Ney could protest, he added: That was a joke. "Good. Because you as much as look at my horse too closely, and you have my sabre in your neck. That was not a joke." Soult made a deep, rumbling sound that could or could not be a dragon laugh, and Ney turned to one of his men. "Claude? Take my horse and keep it safely at a distance from this scaly monsieur here. I will not need it for the rest of this trip." He proudly sat straight. "I’m riding the dragon."

[i-have-41-protons]

Just finished hollowpox. Gonna have to change my whole perception of Ezra Squall, including his POV in the fic. The guy’s an anxious wreck with a porcelain mask of certainty and a god complex, I almost want to hug him

Proof: (spoilers below!!!)

He is totally wearing a mask of an appearance, almost all the time. His movements are precise and practiced, as mentioned in the first book during his first appearance. But underneath it, he has feelings — fear, pride, resignation, spite, etc. I’ve listed only the “negative” ones here because I am not going to do the whole “unraveling of Squall’s character” thing here, especially with so little evidence provided only by Morrigan’s POV.

He absolutely accepted that he might come out the loser in this scene; he is fully willing to let Mog get away, it seems. Of course, she doesn’t, and I love her for that (if it was me I would NEVER refuse an apprenticeship offer from a guy like Ezra Squall. But then again, I’m older than her and don’t have so much trauma), but it still. She could, and Ezra wouldn’t do anything to stop her.

Secondly, he is amazing at keeping his mask up. He barely ever drops the ruse, his face is unreadable most of the times (as described by Morrigan herself), and he thinks before he acts. Here, he gave himself time to think, without giving anything away, and only then voiced his, carefully worded, concern.

The only scene we see him without his mask is this:

I honestly love what follows in this scene. It brings so much of his character out into the light. One of my favorite scenes, really.

This here,

I myself do that. In arguments, I do my best to hold myself together, and when I do start shouting I usually clamp my mouth shut, breath fiercely through the nose and glare, and only then speak in a very barely controlled, growling voice. This was written so well, so realistically. It made me relate to Ezra Squall — do you know how weird it feels to relate to a clearly murderous antagonist with barely any redeeming qualities shown? He is so frustrated here, he is barely containing his frustration from spilling over and ruining everything, he isn’t wearing his mask.

I honestly love Jessica Townsend; she managed to make me laugh out loud so many times while reading her books, her writing is moving, relatable and amazing. She is so good at writing deep, many-faceted characters, I just can’t not love her. She’s amazing. What a woman, honestly.

And here…….. he is so fucking amazingly written. Hateful, spiteful, horrible squexy villain. “My soul if I have one” — jeez dude, I love you so much. Not being sure if you have preserved your humanity, if you have a soul (I’m speaking in terms of morality here — I myself don’t fully believe in existence of souls, but that’s an argument for another time), admitting to your own villainy in such exquisite, delightfully tasty to read way — chefs kiss.

He is such a cool character. What was I on about? I love him so much, this guy. He desperately needs a therapist and some found family tropes: a verdict.

[sweetestpopcorn]

How would you rank Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s children in terms of greatness/potential? For me, Baelon was best out their children with Saera being second. I also think Viserra was a waisted potential. I think she could have done interesting stuff had she lived. Do you think perhaps maybe Baelon should’ve married her after Alyssa’s death? Obviously, no one could replace Alyssa in his heart.

Hi there :)

I have already kind of answered this regarding my thoughts about Saera and Viserra and none of it is good. I will just link them here and here . Legit they are just portrayed as mean girls with no real depth to them, though of the two, Saera is much, much worse. Viserra I can at least sympathise with since her parents seem to not give half a f_ck about her and did not even extend to her the same courtesy they did her siblings of having a say about her marriage (more here), but that's about it. I don't find anything else likeable about her she's just... empty.

I will go from least favourite to favourite.

Saera and Viserra go right to the bottom of my list. Followed very closely by Vaegon by obvious reasons. Like Vaegon, it literally costs you 0 golden dragons to not be so unlikable.

Then I would say Daenerys, she has a lot of sweet moments but dies young so I don't really know how she would have turned out. Besides, I know it's petty of me, but I don't like other characters having Dany's name. I do like Daenerys, Naerys's daughter but... yeah no more. You don't need more Daenerys, we have our Mother of Dragons. Yes, I know I am petty.

Then Gael because... poor baby 🥺 seriously what was George thinking writing a character who is Alysanne's comfort, with some degree of cognitive disability be r...... by some random singer, give birth, lose her baby, and kill herself?! Like enough's enough. It's literally just to add tragedy to her story and honestly Turtle man it's getting f:cking OLD. I swear this man gets his rocks off by adding tragedy and terrible abuse to female characters. This when he can bother to make them more than a walking womb.

Then I would say Aemon. Maybe he would be higher but at times I just feel he's too perfect if that's a thing. There’s just nothing wrong with him like 😂 he literally does nothing wrong.

Daella comes next because I find her funny. She's such a drama queen 24/7 making everyone around her want to protect her XD even Alyssa. I kind of got the vibes at times from her that she kind of knew what she was doing to get attention. Like the fact that she and Alyssa are Rhaenyra's grandmothers just makes so much sense no matter how you look at it. In a way Rhaenyra seems kind of a mixture of both? With tons of stubborn and style added. Another moment that really endeared me to Daella was her very tragic death, and how despite all her suffering she still wanted to be given Aemma and to feed her. Prime mom material right there -> like you can tell both from her and Alyssa that Rhaenyra got some top notch mom genes.

Then Alyssa of course, because she was THE queen. Literally she was just a better behaved version of her son and I'm here for it! I love how despite the fact that she was clearly a tomboy she still wanted to marry Baelon and give him an army of kids X'D because these two things are not mutually exclusive and liking or enjoying traditional boy things does not have to say anything about your sexuality or your desire to be a mother - just like being very feminine and liking traditionally feminine activities does not have to say anything about your sexuality or desire to parent. These are rules a society that does not understand nuance and in a sense is deeply sexist and stereotypical likes to put in place and that I find deeply harmful to people. But Alyssa is the BOMB, so funny, so bold, the way she embarrassed Vaegon who was a little sh:t *chef's kiss*

Then there's the best man ever -> Baelon Targaryen

Had his own cool nickname, The Spring Prince, funny, charming, sexy, single dad who never once forgot about his lady with the mismatched eyes, entered a tourney under the name of the Silver Fool... I don't feel like a need to say more, and in an era where all men were literally so problematic, Baelon was IT.

Baelon is what this fandom thinks Corlys is. Sorry not sorry.

And that's it :D

Also no, and more important that should Baelon remarry, the question is did he want to remarry? And the answer is no, and any Baelon fan would respect the Spring Prince and his undying love for his lady with the mismatched eyes <3

[don-quixotine]

I can't be the only one who wasn’t particularly impressed with Challengers, right?

I mean. The cinematography was great. The music made me feel like I was at a rave in Berlin with the hottest people on Feeld. And the premise was absolutely excellent. Chef's Kiss. Delectable. A pair of bisexual boys being dominated by Mother as they pathetically try to make her their girlfriend? Yes, please. It's the reason I watched it, because it had so much potential.

But.

Is this really it? Is this really all bi representation can come to in this, the year 2024?

I'm just tired.

I'm tired that bisexuals in adult media are represented as these messy, toxic, "don’t know what they want and make it everyone's problem" archetypes that are so demeaning. And that's if they're represented at all.

The bisexuality of Patrick and Art (but more so of Art) is completely left up to your interpretation, and in a world of media that has to come to represent lesbians and gay men in better light, the fact that the same cannot be said about bisexuals is a pity.

I guess, in a way, interpretation is all the bi's have both on and off screen, as it is difficult to pin-point a moment, or a look, or a way of acting that is undeniably Bisexual Coded™️ outside of the sexual spehere.

But that's precisely the point. That is what is so tiring about this conversation. The fact that society's interpretation of bisexuality never moves past a codification, and it's a catch-22. Bisexuality cannot be put in an either/or box. The orientation, and even identity at some points, is fully dependent on context, so it is difficult to grasp by people only attracted to one gender, regardless of context. But because it is contextual and therefore difficult to grasp by society at large, it is often overlooked and misinterpreted, leading to an internalization of negative perceptions and a lack of a third space in the social and mediatic imaginary.

What I am saying is that Challengers had an opportunity to celebrate the bisexuality of Art and Patrick. But instead, it made it a problem. It made it the conflict and called it a day.

And I haven't even mentioned the absolute shit it took on polyamory. Because boy.

It is the same complaint, though. It's about the conflict being based on the miscommunications and unspoken affections of these three people, them clearly being suited for each other, and then throwing in the expectation that the girl HAS to pick one and handling it in the worst possible way. It felt cheap. It felt unintellingent. It felt as "queer" and as "spicy" as that one Saltburn scene was to anyone who has spent more than 5 seconds on Wattpad or AO3: Absolutely mild.

It was baiting at its best for poor polyamory. It was bastardized as a sexy little fantasy the straights and monogamists could indulge in for 2 hours of running time, but now, now, kids. Remember to take your moral of the story with you: Polyamory is Bad, and you can only have The One™️. I mean, there wouldn't have been any toxicity if the conflict had been handled through the lens of normalization of polyamory, and that’s what makes it so frustrating. It would've been funnier, steamier, to have these three come to terms with what they felt and find an arrangement. It would have been more interesting to have Art and Tashi find a way to make ammends with Patrick and reconcile. It would've been wittier if an external force came in between their polyamorous arrangement. Hell, if you wanted to keep your crappy plot, you could've had Patrick fuck Art instead of Tashi as a moment of conflict resolution and that would have sufficed to improve it. But no. Writers in Hollywood have tiny T-Rex hands, and low-hanging fruit is all they're good for.

And look, I get it. I know the movie wasn't supposed to spell it out for you. I know the point was to read between the lines, because this was a tennis movie that wasn't at all about tennis. I know that in the end, there's room for interpretation, to believe that Tashi was hoping they would reconcile and that in the end, they do. I know that. But my point is that the arguments that build the movie's identity as bisexual (and even poly) are blink-and-you-miss-it moments. And on top of that, the qualities that make these characters arguably queer are painted in a negative light.

So, like, yeah. I don’t know who the audience was for this movie. But clearly not the bi's and not the poly's lol.

I saw it with my own polycule, and we couldn't stop raging lol.

[missglaskin]

hi! what do you think if the reader was a bastard herself and it was kind of her trigger word? (in yan hotd universe)

like someone called jace and luke bastard and she asked alicent "hi, do you know what bastard is?" because no one ever said that word to her so she doesn't know

alicent, who spread the rumour herself, feels proud because maybe she can convenience the reader to hate rhaenyra's children. "it was a term for children born out of wedlock, they are born out of lust." then reader said, "my mother and father are not wed when I was born, am I a bastard too?"

then alicent panicked, not because reader was a bastard but because reader remember her birth family (which she had never done since she came to live with targaryen)

it happened again and again until otto and alicent had to put stop to it because as time went by reader remembered her family more clearly and one time expressed that she missed them and wanted to go to them again.

when aemond lost his eyes the word bastard was flying around but he didn't blame aegon because he literally heard from the servants since alicent never utter those words again and reader is like, "oh, the wind is howling today. I remember I had a brother. I wonder what he looked like now."

the word 'bastard' was banned altogether.

years passed without a hitch then vaemond came to challenge luke's claim to driftmark and before the poor man can say 'bastard', otto hurriedly scream;

"STOP STOP I just wanted to say how similar lucerys valeryon is to his great grandma jocelyn baratheon in fact I will remind all of you because I had her portrait made just for this occasion."

team blacks stayed and watched viserys die and rhaenyra crowned queen and otto sat on the corner, defeated, but then reader come and said, "my father the king is gone, can I call you father now? I always wanted to call you that."

then otto shrugged his shoulder and said, "eh, this will do."

First off before I say anything, Anon this is chef's kiss

But the idea that the whole conflict is avoided because the reader's trigger word is bastard is hilarious and fascinating. And just Otto accepting it all happening because at least the reader will finally see him as her father 😂

[formulatrash]

I've taken up reading historic newspapers as a hobby and I thought you'd enjoy this story from the Coventry Evening Telegraph. "Heavy Traffic - There was heavy traffic on all roads leading to Silverstone from an early hour this morning, but the filter colour system introduced at the last meeting was again successful and there were few long delays. In order to regulate the traffic, police had installed in the control tower of the former RAF aerodrome seven radio stations linked with key points over a 25-mile radius." This is from the 20th of August, 1949! As I write to you today, there are roadworks on the road between Brackley and Silverstone, which just makes me feel that news is 100% cyclical and there will ALWAYS be traffic around Silverstone. <3

I actually have a theory about this which gets into the sort of nerdy shit I'd make a video about if I was a man with a decent camera and an office. but so Silverstone is in several English counties:

looking at Silverstone on a map, it's clearly in what you'd call a black hole for ley lines. for anyone who didn't grow up in the UK in the era before the internet gave us something to do with our time, ley lines are alleged mystical power lines that criss-cross the UK and do sort of coincide with some motorways probably because that's kinda how the landscape is.

anyway, the idea is you can draw lines between significant monuments or like, random hills people have decided might have some connection to woo and then that will represent ancient energies. for no doubt very serious reasons the epicentre of all these is a tiny village called Parsley Hay halfway between Sheffield and Stoke on Trent, which I am sure does fairly well out of the related tourist industry.

more significant, in terms of British road mapping, is the existence of Little Chef roadside uhhhh cafés? diners? idk what you classify them as. like the druids of old they are now gone but their energies remain.

Silverstone sits in an uneven triangulation of former Little Chef spots:

not only does Towcester's especially hallowed, double Little Chef site unbalance things nearly irrepairably, three of these Little Chef are in Northamptonshire (the double and Old Stratford to the east) while only Buckingham is in Buckinghamshire.

these are the sort of forces that should not be messed with. it is clear why there are always traffic jams around Silverstone and it's not just because everyone invented Milton Keynes (not pictured, off to the east) then forgot to connect it to anywhere else properly it's because the roadside balance has been greatly disturbed.

now that Little Chef is no more this cannot be corrected. no amount of M&S Simply Food can ever neutralise the vibes and so it is that Silverstone is doomed to eternal traffic by the arrogance of mankind's hubristic building.

[cha-melodius]

Hi!! Just finished your firstprince spies fic and GODDDDD THAT WAS SO SO SO GOOD!! i absolutely loved everything about your story❤️ i really liked how detailed you were when describing all of their missions and i could totally picture henry being a all professional and closed off at first with alex being the one to break his walls with his fierceness hahahah

I loved the way the story evolved and how they got together!! the way they so clearly cared for each other from the very beginning ((the way henry flew to him and the moments they shared when he told alex he was good??? MY HEART BROKE I LOVED IT))!!

I really appreciate how much work you put into the story, it was absolutely amazing❤️ and the part of last chapter from henry’s pov was such a special treat!! i love reading and seeing things through his eyes so it was just *chef’s kiss*

Well, to stop the ramble: i fell in love with this story and them in this setting and it was amazing!! I live and breathe spy aus so thank you for creating this!!

Every time I go into my inbox I discover asks I meant to reply to days ago and completely forgot about. Which is to say, thank you so much for this lovely ask, and sorry it took me a bit to write back! The good part about having no short-term memory is that I get to delight in these lovely comments all over again.

I'll also take this opportunity to say that Nova, Baby has seen an uptick in readership lately thanks in part to some truly gorgeous CIA/MI6 AU art posted on twitter, which was not based on my fic but some very kind souls have linked the fic in the replies/quotes and I am so grateful to them. So thank you all so much for the love for my ridiculous spies, it means so much to me that people enjoy the fic that much.

(When I tell you I was half worried the fic would flop because there was very little like it in the fandom, especially pre-movie... 😅 Seems kind of silly now but it was a very real fear at the time given how much I put into it!)

[penroseparticle]

Penrose Song of the Day Day 28: Nasty by Janet Jackson

My first CD I owned was a Janet Jackson one (Ok actually it was 2.B.A. Master, the pokemon anime soundtrack CD but I WILL TELL OTHER PEOPLE that Janet's All For You was my first CD because it is marginally less embarrassing)

I am a simple gay. I hear "GIMME A BEAT" and I head to the dancefloor.

I wish I could tell you anything remotely constructive about this song but I just think it's neat. There's something to this song that struck the public mind. This song has legs, and it's part of the zeitgeist. We will always have "Ms. Jackson if you're nasty".

Sometimes it can be a fun exercise to think about, if you were you right now, but were there when this song got big. What would your best comparison to it be? Which, with this song, is a little more interesting I think. What song has entered the collective consciousness and probably will never leave. Is there a genre or musical convention that was solidified by something recent the way Nasty heralded New Jack Swing?

I mean if we're talking cultural staying power, I don't know if I can think of something that's gonna stick that bad (anything PG that is. I fully believe WAP secured its space in the zeitgeist hall of fame and we will say Wet Ass Pussy "Like That(tm)" for the rest of our lives if we're making a reference.)

I think this song is... kinda fun, honestly. Like, don't be gross or sketch, sure. That's the whole point of the song from the jump. You don't want to be thinking nasty thoughts, or you will turn Janet off. But it's kind of... Pointing at things I don't like and saying Yuck!, the song?

She doesn't like Nasty boys. They don't mean a thing. But she also doesn't like nasty food or girls. This song is one of the most Green Eggs and Ham style songs I have ever seen in my life, honestly. And I'm fine with that! I think the repetition can be pretty powerful, especially if it's punctuated by actual changes and modulations to the them or structure.

And I think this song is like. Very good with that because it sets the parameters for when and where Janet WILL get Nasty. She's not a prude. She just wants some respect. Close the doors. Ms. Jackson does not kiss and tell. She doesn't need or want an audience. Very Christian prayer of her, tbh. Just as intimate, one on one. For your eyes only.

The idea of being in control, and having respect for yourself and your boundaries. I think this song is so successful because, for all its "Them boys is nasty", it's also very much about Janet saying what she wants and doesn't want. *I* don't like nasty boys. *I want control*. I can get nasty... on *MY* terms.

So it's... pointing at things you don't like and saying Yuck, the song.

For the record I like New Jack Swing. I think it's got some very good energy, and it's what I think of when I think 90's music first and foremost, for better or worse. Not sure why. Especially when it's very clearly late 80's. But I can't help it. I see A Different World, Family Matters, Fresh Prince, and Hear New Jack Swing and Essentially the song Finesse by Bruno Mars. I can't help how pop cultural osmosis has done me dirty.

There's something... Peppy. High energy. Even mid tempo songs have some sort of energy to them. It's infectious.

And honestly, I agree with Janet. I DO like a Nasty Groove. And I will be a Nasty Boy dancing to the Nasty Groove when this song comes on. The music break with the no lyrics over it???? Chefs kiss.

I love this song. And hey! You could be dead right now. Go listen to something you love.

[toon4thought]

Not gonna lie... I'm a bit torn with "Migration".

In terms of artistry, this is Illumination's best film by a country mile. It's nothing wildly impressive or even that different from their usual style, but the locations look really attractive a lot of the time (particularly in the water and the almost-painterly backgrounds of their home pond), and the animators clearly had a blast getting endless fun expressions out of the cartoony designs. In addition, John Powell's score gives the film a welcome feeling of majesty during certain scenes and, despite how star-studded the cast is (as is typical), they all slip incredibly naturally into their roles and are responsible for giving the characters much of their charm - Keegan Michael-Key and Awkwafina being my favorites.

But there's something about where the story ultimately goes that just kinda loses me. Most of the scenes work well as individual set pieces, and the actual screenplay's serviceable (some comedic moments genuinely caught me off guard), but at first what seems like a segmented road trip movie ends up getting more of a through-line bizarrely late with the introduction of this cutthroat chef. He's a good enough threat in-context, but it's bizarre to see the film open with them establishing Herons as the big threat only for that to be settled 30 minutes in and never come up again. They could've easily chosen to commit to one or the other, but as is, it muddies the flow and ultimately renders a pretty fun scene rather pointless - and the same can be said for a few others too (the worst offender being the ending gag).

Same with the character journeys. Although the basics of an arc are there (all tied around getting out of your comfort zone), along with a few good callbacks like the salsa dance; the actual progression isn't made especially clear across the journey. For the most part, the family kinda just goes from one beat to another before reaching a natural conclusion, which does leave a satisfying feeling by the end, but devoting more focus into everyone's motivations would've given the audience more reason to really get invested beyond the basics.

Maybe I am being a bit harsh, especially since this is Illumination we're talking about, but I do think there was a lot that could've been stronger and elevate it to a true classic. But even with all that, it's still a well-directed animated film, and certainly one of their more genuine entries.