Einchants - ONCE UPON A TIME.

-Roger Haus

♡ jessica alexander via instagram ( jessalxander )

Brigitte Bardot in Contempt ‘Le Mépris’ 1963, dir. Jean-Luc Godard

fabletown  is  a  small  pond  and  faye  thinks  herself  a  fish  too  big  for  it  ━━  so  it's  no  surprise  that  every  time  the  fibres  of  their  being  are  laced  with  a  kind  of  boredom  too  overwhelming  to  ignore,  people  around  feel  the  shock  wave  of  it  (  and  more  often  than  not,  the  aftermath  is  less  than  good  for  a  couple  of  unfortunate  souls  ━━  it's  a  wrong  place,  wrong  time  sort  of  situation  and  with  something  enticing  enough  for  faye  to  do  something  about  it  ).  peter,  even  with  all  the  history  that  they  share,  might  become  a  victim  just  like  anyone  else.  to  be  fair,  he  approaches  her.  "and  you  are  far  too  dramatic,  peverell."  a  name  foreign  on  her  tongue,  even  with  all  the  decades  of  use  ━━  he  is  peter  pan,  the  boy  who  refused  to  grow  up  and  she  his  trusted  companion.  that  is  how  the  story  goes,  isn't  it?  "please.  we  see  each  other  every  damn  day."  a  chuckle,  a  head  shake  and  a  sip  of  a  beer  that  warms  with  each  second.

every  word  exchanged  still  feels  heavier  than  it  used  to  be.  an  abandon  of  their  home  and  company  left  behind...  faye  knows  better  than  to  believe  all  is  well.  as  much  as  she  hates  it,  actions  have  consequences.  "i  have  my  hobbies  and  i  can  guarantee  none  of  them  will  ever  be  knitting.  have  you  tried  it?"  eyebrows  raise  and  mischief  paints  itself  on  faye's  lips  as  their  blue  eyes  meet  peter's.  then,  the  offer  of  a  sip  of  her  beer.  "genius  is  right."  a  jest,  even  if  there  is  no  lie  to  be  found.  "the  day  has  just  begun.  don't  cheer  just  yet,  peter.  i  might  just  take  your  wallet  next,  see  what  secrets  you've  been  keeping  from  me  and  the  magic  mirror."

peter  slows  when  he  sees  her,  doesn’t  stop  right  away  —  just  enough  for  his  stride  to  falter,  for  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  to  hush.  no  surprise  finding  her  like  this:  sun  going  down,  attitude  rising,  one  foot  on  the  edge  of  a  bad  idea  and  the  other  barely  planted  in  whatever  counted  as  rehabilitation.  he  squints  down  at  her,  cigarette  tucked  behind  his  ear,  a  notebook  wedged  under  one  arm.  the  picture  of  reluctant  responsibility.  “you  wound  me,  darlowe.”  he  drawls,  tone  dry  as  the  sidewalk  she’s  baking  on.  “not  even  a  hello  before  you  threaten  to  hoard  your  shitty  beer ?”  peter  crouches,  not  to  sit,  never  quite  that  relaxed,  but  enough  to  put  himself  just  in  her  line  of  sight,  forearms  balanced  on  his  knees,  mirrored  like  mockery.  his  eyes  skim  the  can  in  her  grip  before  they  flick  up  to  hers.

“you  know,”  he  says,  glancing  around  like  the  scenery  might  surprise  him, “most  people  at  least  pretend  to  find  hobbies  that  don't  involve  sitting  on  the  side  of  the  road.  you  ever  try  knitting ?”  followed  by  a  little  shrug,  not  judgmental,  just  peter:  half  amused,  half  weary,  all  blunt. “but  hey,  if  scowling  at  pavement’s  what’s  keeping  you  from  torching  another  mailbox  or  charming  a  guy  out  of  his  wallet,  who  am  i  to  stop  genius  at  work ?”

their  spine  feels  winnie  before  her  eyes  could  even  register  the  figure  in  their  periphery.  faye  does  not  know  what  it  is  ━━  what  makes  her  look  right  in  the  direction  that  winnie  is  coming  from  but,  truth  is,  hazel  eyes  meet  the  other  before  faye  could  even  think  about  ignoring  them.  mirth  and  mischief  (  a  pair  so  very  familiar  with  all  of  tink's  life  )  take  over  faye's  expression  in  equal  measure,  metal  can  meeting  their  lips  for  a  small  sip  once  more.  "oh,  please,  tell  me  how  you  really  feel."  a  tease,  a  jest  ━━  something  that  had  been  so  familiar  between  them  back  home.

faye  leans  back,  one  hand  holding  them  up  and  another  holding  the  beer  can.  index  finger  taps  rhythmically  as  their  eyes  taken  in  winnie  once  again  ━━  from  the  top  of  their  head  to  their  toes  and  the  smile  on  her  lips  does  not  falter  (  whether  it's  a  warm  smile,  a  playful  one  or  something  else  ━━  something  akin  to  a  predator  towards  their  prey  ).  "and  what  is  your  drink  of  choice,  winnie?" now, a smirk. mischief clear in her eyes as she speaks next.  "i'm  a  bartender,  i  can  whip  you  something  up  if  you  want  to  break  into  the  trip  trap."

while staying indoors could be seen as the logical option considering the news, winnie was beyond antsy. being cooped up indoors had always felt some sort of suffocating ever since she could remember. a quick walk wouldn't hurt them right ? why would a murderer care for her anyway. and the idea that the fable herself were guilty was laughable. the only person she killed was still alive and well. so she trudged along to an undetermined location, letting her mind wander to whatever escapist fantasy settled the nerves in her body. that was, until they spotted her. reality snapping sharply back into focus.

why winnie's feet took her in the direction of the other blonde she'd never know. maybe it was an old habit, instinct, or their arguable penchant for punishment. whatever the case may be, now they found themself standing with arms crossed firmly, right in front of faye. " anyone who would accuse you of such a thing would be out of their mind. " words leaving a little more charged that originally intended. something that happened on occasion whilst in the other's company. " plus, not my drink of choice anyway. "

[she was funny for that]

faye  feels  restless  ━━  the  gala  is  too  organised,  too  polite  and  there  is  nothing  to  do  other  than  drink  from  flutes  and  have  empty  headed  conversations  with  people  she  couldn't  give  less  of  a  damn  about.  and  then,  it  is  as  if  the  universe  hears  their  plea.

hazel  eyes  spot  the  perfect  entertainment.  without  hesitation,  faye  makes  her  move  and  promptly  bites  into  the  only  evidence  of  her  crime  against  the  code  of  any  gala.

"yes  it  was."  faye  speaks  as  she  chews,  making  it  more  dramatic  than  it  ought  to  be.  mischievous  eyes  are  glued  to  her  victim,  feeding  off  of  his  reaction.  "and  it  tastes  amazing.  thank  you  for  holding  onto  it  for  me."

closed starter for @einchants, snack table at the gala

puck haunt the sweets table, eating his fill of little delicacies. if there's one thing they love more than mischief, it is not having to choose between affording a glamour or imbibing in a sweet treat (or five).

after contemplating their choice carefully, they pluck another pastry from the table, turning to enjoy. then, a crime is committed: it is taken right out of their eager hands.

"hey!" by the time he makes a move to defend his own honor, the thief has taken a bite. puck can do nothing but watch in abject horror. where's the sheriff when you need him? where are the witnesses? "... that was the last fig tart."

♡ jessica alexander via instagram ( jessalxander )

Havana Rose Liu via welovecoco on Instagram, 05/23/2023

BOB'S BURGERS 3.18 — It Snakes a Village