#mary1

“To not knowing what the fuck I’m doing.” Lorcan raised their glass to the room full of strangers, all expecting something from them. When’s the next album? How long until the next tour? Why’d you suddenly decide to go to uni in the height of your career? When can we expect your next single? All questions answered in one simple toast. As Lorcan ordered another round, their eyes fell on the only familiar face around. Sending the bartender over with a drink, they raised their own toward her in greeting. 

Charlie— her dear sweet Charlie, out like a light just as he should be at nap time. Bill however, her mischievous first born had begun running about like a wild man the moment he heard that Mary was coming over. “William Ignatius Weasley, I swear to Merlin if you wake your brother I’m never inviting Mary over again.”

“Mary, Mary quite -- Oh my god, I am so sorry,” Hollie pleaded knowing Mary must’ve heard that about a billion times in her lifetime. Half of them from a drunk on cheap wine Hollie in primary. “It’s just nice to see that gorgeous face.”

The thing was, and no she wasn’t priding herself on this, but Amelia pretty much knew everybody. At least in the crowds she intermingled with and the crowd that would have shown up for Dawn’s party. Everyone seemed to be from school, except for one face, that rang annoyingly familiar in her mind. Then it hit her and the gin just made her say it -- “Are you the cheerleader from duelling club?”

@marychung

Finally having handed in his resignation letter at the nightclub and the country club, Logan found it easier now to meet with the lawyer tending to Easton’s custody during the week. Samantha had been leading most of the paperwork and pushing this case forward with Mary, and he was indebted in gratitude for both. After so many failed attempts in the United States to achieve some sort of justice and access to his own son, if only visitation rights in the absence of shared custody, the alpha was still not letting himself get too excited about the progress they had made. It didn’t mean he wasn’t taking it seriously, on the contrary, but although he had started to feel and think more positively when it came to the idea of having his son with him in the near future, he was still not letting it consume him. Every time a court ruled against him broke him apart a little more. This was his last shot, perhaps, a real one. If he lost it, too, it’d mean he’d lose it all.