POTATO MOON, Part 54: “Family Matters” by Mary Borsellino

Since pacing had never before been high on the list of concerns held
by the various creators of Woeisme and Fig’s universe, it wasn’t much
of a surprise to either of them to discover that they were able to
spend a quiet, uninterrupted evening in a small local restaurant
getting to know each other better. Such scenes were, Woeisme had been
led to understand, her family’s chosen method of seduction for many
generations.

Well, one generation, but her father was old enough that it probably
counted as a plural anyway.

“You have nothing in your head,” Woeisme told Fig, who raised one
perfect eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” he replied, and if Woeisme hadn’t been the magical
half-vampire, glows-in-the-sunshine superkid of the decade’s most
beloved YA romance, she probably would have withered to dust from the
laserlike cutting in the dashing young lustmuffin’s tone. As it was,
she just felt slightly chagrined — which, strangely enough, was also
an inheritance from her unique genetic line.

She shrugged. “Sorry, it worked for my parents as an ice-breaker.
Thought I’d give it a shot.”

“But your mother was a Reader Proxy, which is distinct from a Mary
Sue,” Fig pointed out, still sounding a little hurt. It’s hard being a
Mary Sue; they tend die tragically and poignantly in their lovers’
arms, and get picked on by the original characters created by older
writers in the locker room afterwards. The haunted look in his eyes
that oppression lent him made Woeisme’s sparkly heart grow three sizes
with love.

“Your tragic past is way hot,” she told him. “Let’s have babies.
Enough babies that everyone gets paired off happily. It’ll be totally
neat.”

“We cannot, my darling,” Fig replied, crystal tears brimming in his haunted eyes. “First my father, William-or-maybe-Liam-I-forget, Womliffor short, has demanded that anyone who seeks my hand in baby-making first complete three tasks of terrifying supernatural hardship.”