Megara had just finished work, gotten home, and showered before she was leaving the apartment again. ’There’s no food in this house!’ she thought, before responding to herself with a rational thought of ’at least nothing I actually want to eat.’ Then again, it’s not like the things she liked to eat could really constitute as a meal. It was a miracle the woman managed to keep her petite frame and wasn’t 600 pounds, what with all the candy, cookies, chips, and junk food that made up the majority of her diet. Although sure that her metabolism would slow to a crawling halt within a decade or so, Meg had already decided and accepted that she was just going to ride this train until it crashed. She was craving ice cream today, although that could be said for probably six out of seven days of the week. Ice Cream was her favorite food, and probably made up a good 50-60% of her shitty diet. The girl would drink milkshakes all day everyday if she could. And there were times, before she had to be more careful about spending money, that she did just that. Mild lactose intolerance be damned.

Florean Fortescue’s was, of course, the place to go for ice cream in Diagon Alley. Were there even any other options? It didn’t matter, as the quaint little ice cream parlor was perfectly within walking distance of her apartment, and she quite enjoyed the atmosphere. Even if there was another option, it would be unlikely that Megara would choose it. She was nothing if not practical, after all. The shop wasn’t extremely busy this time of year, the brisk spring wind still a little too chilly for people to want to stop for ice cream. She never had that thought, herself; the red haired (former?) witch would eat ice cream even in a blizzard. Although, it was enough for Meg to decide to sit inside instead of out on the patio. Stepping inside, she ordered a rather large serving of lemon ice cream, her absolute favorite, inside of a waffle cone. Before accepting the cone from the friendly server, she did have the foresight to zip up her cargo jacket, covering the white t-shirt that she wore underneath. She rarely wore white for a reason – that reason being she knew her clumsy self well, and knew that if she wore it she was bound and determined to spill something on it. After paying and accepting her treat/dinner, she turned to find a table where she could sit and read and enjoy her lemon ice cream in peace. Instead, the quick turn caused her to accidentally bump into someone she didn’t previously notice standing behind her. The jarring caused the already loose grip she had on the cone in her hand to slip completely, and she watched helplessly as the cone and its contents crashed to the floor. “Aww.” The grown woman couldn’t help but pout for a second before quickly lifting her gaze to address whoever it was she had just bumped into. “Are you okay? Did any of it get on you?” She asked, already reaching for the nearest napkin dispenser.

Throw it away; forget yesterday

531 words // open // This may or may not be based off real life

☀

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[attr="class","alice"]

[attr="class","hatter"]

[attr="class","redqueen"]Watch it Burn

[attr="class","tweedles"]Degare rarely had reason to visit an ice cream parlor, what with his diet consisting mainly of rich, red liquids--blood or wine, depended on his mood. Complicated, sugary things like ice cream generally didn't appeal to his palate, but Al was going on about weddings and how they'd never had a real one when they got married. The only things that tamed Al on a rampage about something he felt he'd been deprived of were those same sugary monstrosities that didn't appeal to Degare. When Deg was on a rant he tended to seclude himself in his studio and paint until he was calm again, but he hadn't had a desire for a rant in a while. Like, say, 18 months or so. Speaking of which, Deg had finally gotten Kaiser down for his evening nap and assured Al that he'd be home before the babe woke up--because Kai apparently only liked Deg to put him to sleep. Regardless, Deg needed ice cream to soothe his--apparently fake--husband so he could buy himself time to possibly plan a second proposal, because the rant was bound to resurface if Al didn't get his proper wedding. The things one does for love.

He was just approaching the counter to place an order when the customer in front of him turned to--he presumed--find a seat, and promptly ran right into him, knocking her ice cream to the floor and all over his favorite italian leather shoes. Al had bought him those shoes. Not that Al wouldn't happily buy him another pair, but he wouldn't be happy to see them defiled in his current mood. "Oh dear," he sighed. It wasn't the girl's fault, however, and Degare had no desire to make enemies with a complete stranger over spilled...ice cream. "I'm perfectly alright, are you? Terribly sorry, didn't mean to stand so close." Degare smiled warmly and settled a comforting hand on her elbow.

[attr="class","rabbit"]319 - Megara Lucille Grant - Outfit & a black umbrella

♕fai

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Megara paled when her ice cream ended up spilling over fine Italian leather, knowing that the napkins she had grabbed wouldn’t be enough to salvage them – they would still be stained, but at least she could pick up the cone and the relatively solid scoops of ice cream off of them. Although she had no qualms against manually cleaning the man’s shoes, she couldn’t help but think that this scenario would work out much better if she still had her magic. She could simply wave the offending dessert away, and possibly the stain as well. The thought depressed Meg to no end. Whereas Megara put up with a lot of shit during the whole muggleborn registration, and remained relatively happy, getting hit with the epidemic and losing the ability to use any form of magic was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Since then, Meg had difficulty even recognizing herself – magic and her place in the wizarding world had defined her for so long that Megara didn’t know what to do now that she couldn’t brew potions correctly or use the animagus ability she spent years developing. These thoughts were invading her brain as she cleaned up her mess, seemingly sending her out of her own head as she mechanically went through the motions. The light didn’t come back on until she had tossed the trash into the receptacle placed next to her, and she heard a deep voice speaking to her.

She almost flinched when his hand came to settle on her elbow, but she managed to suppress it as the man smiled at her – despite the warm smile, she felt that something was odd about him. Not that she could pinpoint any specific reason why. The gentleman had an intimidating appearance, from his handsome face to the shoes she had just gotten to know personally, but he didn’t radiate anger. “It’s me that should be sorry.” She said as an immediate reflex to his apology. Glancing down at his shoes once again, taking in the suit he wore on the way and being grateful none of it got on that as well, she knew she wouldn’t be able to pay for them if he demanded it. “I should have been paying more attention to my surroundings – never have been very good at that. But, that’s not an excuse. Let me buy your order; it’s the least I can do.” Meg offered, her green eyes still slightly downcast as she suddenly felt too socially inept to look at him directly.

Throw it away; forget yesterday

422 words // @degdeg // Idk why she's doing this TBH.

☀

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[attr="class","alice"]

[attr="class","hatter"]

[attr="class","redqueen"]Watch it Burn

[attr="class","tweedles"]The woman, because once Degare got a good look at her, he realized she was older than he knew he appeared, was apparently intimidated by him? Degare could admit that he cut an imposing figure when he wanted to, but he generally avoided looking like a dangerous beast unless he was using it for something. He supposed the sheer fact that he was dressed so impeccably and obviously expensively might cause some to be intimidated by that alone, but surely this witch was smarter than that? Maybe not, which was why he tried to keep his voice and actions calm and gentle, to avoid making a scene in public. She was a lovely thing, he could tell, though he hadn't had eyes for anyone besides Albright in over a century and that wasn't about to change. Degare couldn't help noticing beautiful people, whether from a con-artist or simply an artist's perspective, and some small part of himself whispered that he was, technically speaking, pansexual. For all that he's been in a committed relationship with the same man for over a century, that part of himself wouldn't ever be erased. Most simply assumed he was gay, given his marriage, and he long ago stopped correcting them. What was the point? Whatever they thought, he was committed to Albright and their future together, and now to Kaiser as well.

Having a babe around was...surreal, in a way. The year they've had Kaiser flew by, and he was sure the years to follow would be much the same. He wasn't much looking forward to the inevitable moment when Kaiser aged past him, when his son started looking older than himself. Unless Kai chose to become like his fathers, which was something Degare was dreading. Being a vampire wasn't all it was cracked up to be, despite how well Degare adapted to it, and he had no desire to force anyone into the same fate. That being said, a small part of him hoped Kai wanted to become virtually immortal, because then Degare wouldn't have to watch his son wither and die while he remained youthful for eternity. Either option was a bittersweet choice.

He chuckled warmly. "I appreciate the offer, truly, but you needn't go so far. I can more than afford it and the cleaning bill too," Degare assured her with a smile. "It's my husband I'll have to worry about, but that's why I'm here in the first place, so there's a chance he'll forgive me on the spot." There wasn't, not really, but at least it would give Al something other than marriage to rant about for a bit.

[attr="class","rabbit"]439 - Megara Lucille Grant - He's nice I swear

♕fai

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From personal experience, people with money were something to fear, not something Megara would have said or believed in a couple years ago; but being tortured by a bunch of old money pureblood purists changed a person. Meg knew that not everyone with money abused their power in such a way, but most that she had encountered did. She still had an odd feeling about the man standing in front of her, but perhaps he was one of the good ones? After all, his pleasantries seemed sincere enough, and his smile was reassuring. He didn’t outwardly strike her as threatening, but there was still something digging at her, a gut feeling. Megara wasn’t one to listen to her gut over her head, though, and thus allowed herself to relax a bit, to let her gaze sweep up to make eye contact with him. Unfortunately, her social skills left much to be desired even when she was relaxed. Most often she just didn’t know what to say, or didn’t have a desire to converse, or was just plain awkward. Although it was getting better. The loss of magic forced her to be less independent than she was, but that meant she had to talk to people, to ask for help.

It was easy around Faith….they had been roommates since Kolna, and she loved the younger girl dearly. Simply being friends with her had made her more outgoing, made her more willing to go outside of the house and distract herself from her wallowing in self-pity. She had even gone to a couple bars and clubs, despite feeling much too old to be doing so at the age of thirty-one.‘I feel it, but at least I don’t look it,’ Megara thought. Not because she was narcissistic, but Meg had always been told she had a youthful face. There were rumors circling, back when she was quite the successful potioneer/author, that she had created a youth potion that she used to look like she did. Of course that was false.

She couldn’t help but chuckle lightly when the man spoke of his husband. "Well, hopefully ice cream will be good enough to appease him. Or at least distract him for a minute.” Megara shrugged, before pulling one of her old business cards out of her wallet and offering it to him. "If not, feel free to blame it all on me. Tell him I apologize, but there’s my contact information if he wants to rant to somebody.” Perhaps it was a guilty conscience that had her doing such a thing, as she was never one to push her business card on people, but she felt responsible if his husband got angry. He should at least be angry at her, if anyone.

Throw it away; forget yesterday

459 words // @degdeg // Tried to find a smooth way to introduce herself xD

☀