#tiny peanut of a child and magic powers

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

The Dragonkeeper movie worked as intended I laughed I cried I bought the first two books in the series it's based off of.

and I am THIS CLOSE 🤏🏻to writing a crossover Wingfeather Saga fanfic with it because are you KIDDING me?!? magic child?! healing water?! dragons?! THE ENDING?!? ak;hlgj;aglskafghsfagshfd

go watch it it's amazing I loved it

[vapehk1]

VAPORESSO GEN MAX Mod Review: Power and Precision with a 220W Output and Dual 18650 Batteries

Just a short while back, we took a deep dive into Vaporesso's impressive pod kit, the LUXE X2, which notably excelled in mouth-to-lung vaping. Vaporesso has long been a beacon in the vaping community, especially highlighted by their acclaimed ARMOUR series, which set a high bar in the mod vape market. Today, we’re turning our focus to Vaporesso's latest release: the GEN MAX mod, launched just a few days ago. With a legacy of stellar devices behind it, does the GEN MAX continue to uphold the high standards set by its predecessors, or does it diverge with a new path of surprises—good or bad? Let’s delve in and find out. https://youtube.com/shorts/uNJefxoCB5U Unveiling the Vaporesso GEN MAX and its iTank T: Complete Specifications The VAPORESSO GEN MAX is designed to cater to the advanced vaper who demands robust functionality and precise control over their vaping experience. Below, we detail the specifications and key features of both the GEN MAX Mod and the accompanying iTank T Tank: Vaporesso Gen Max Mod Specifications: Feature Specification Dimensions 141.4 x 49.7 x 28.5mm Variable Wattage Range 5.0w to 220.0w Battery 2x18650 high-drain batteries (not included) Lock Button Available Chipset AXON Interface Intuitive with customizable themes Output Wheel Adjustable Screen Display 0.96” TFT Charging 2A Type-C Output Power Up to 220W Charging Current DC 5V/2A, Type-C Vaporesso iTank T Tank Specifications: Feature Specification Tank Capacity 6mL Coil Compatibility GTI 0.22 Mesh Coil, GTI 0.42 Mesh Coil Construction Stainless Steel Airflow Adjustable Top Airflow Filling System Top-Fill System Technology COREX 2.0 Tech The Vaporesso GEN MAX sets a new standard for mod vapes with its comprehensive features and innovative design, aiming to enhance every aspect of the vaping experience. In-Depth Vaping Experience with the Vaporesso GEN MAX Having wrapped my hands around the Vaporesso GEN MAX for a good while, I can tell you it’s more than just another mod—it's like the Swiss Army knife of the vaping world, but way cooler and less likely to get you stopped at airport security. Here's the scoop on my adventures with the GEN MAX kit, featuring the robust GEN Max Mod and the ever-reliable Vaporesso iTank T Tank. Design Flair and Practical Magic Right off the bat, the GEN MAX impresses with its sleek design that feels right at home in your hand—ergonomic, with a hint of "you wish your smartphone felt this nice." The rotating fire button is genuinely a stroke of genius, doubling as a power and menu wheel. Just be warned, twisting it mid-puff might catapult your settings into another dimension. Remember, with great power (button) comes great responsibility. The slide lock mechanism is basically the "child-proofing" feature every vape needs. Slide it, and it turns the device into a sleek, unresponsive brick, thus saving your precious e-liquid and maybe your reputation when it doesn’t go off at the wrong moment—like in a quiet meeting room. A Screen Worth Watching The 0.96-inch TFT screen isn’t just a pretty face; it’s your gateway to becoming the coolest vaper in the room. Switching to the football theme turns every vape session into a pre-game party, especially with the Futsal World Cup looming. And the alien theme? It's perfect for those who like their clouds with a side of mystery and conspiracy theories. Sublime Vaping Performance Performance-wise, the AXON chip in the GEN Max Mod is like having a tiny, super-efficient engineer living inside your vape, making sure every puff is optimized. The combination with the iTank T Tank is like peanut butter and jelly—perfectly matched for maximum flavor and vapor. The iTank T holds a generous 6ml of juice, meaning less refilling and more chilling. Thanks to the COREX 2.0 Technology, the coils are practically auditioning for a role in the next "Coils of Steel" movie, showing off their longevity and flavor-preserving skills. Airflow and Anti-Leak Wizardry Let’s talk airflow—Vaporesso wasn’t just blowing hot air when they designed the top airflow system. It keeps things tight and right, maximizing flavor while keeping your juice where it belongs. Think of it as the best bouncer you’ve ever hired for a party in your mouth. Filling Made Fun The slide-to-fill system is so easy, you could probably do it blindfolded (but please don’t try that at home). One-handed refilling means your other hand is free to multitask, like giving a thumbs-up to bystanders admiring your impeccable vape style. Safeguarding Your Zen The safety features on the GEN MAX are akin to having a personal bodyguard for your vape sessions. Overcharge protection, short-circuit armor—you name it, this mod has got it. It’s like bubble wrap for your vaping experience, ensuring everything goes smoothly without any "oops" moments. A Vaper’s Delight The Vaporesso GEN MAX is equipped, ready, and absolutely able to take your vaping journey to new heights—or at least make it more enjoyable with fewer pit stops and a lot more flavor. Pros and Cons of the Vaporesso GEN MAX: A Balanced View After having a blast with the Vaporesso GEN MAX, it’s time to lay down the good, the not-so-good, and the downright awesome. Here’s a candid rundown of what makes this device a hot pick and where it might just miss a beat. Pros 1. High-Tech, High-Performance: The AXON chipset is not just a chip off the old block. It's like the smartest cookie in the jar, ensuring that every puff is smoother than a jazz solo. With up to 220 watts of power, this device doesn’t just perform; it performs with a flair. 2. Customizable Display and Controls: Between rotating the fire button to tweak your settings and choosing from themes like football and alien, it's like having your personal vape concierge. It's user-friendly and adds a bit of fun to the functionality. 3. Sturdy and Safe: With its robust build and a suite of safety features (think overcharge protection and no accidental pocket-fires), this device is like a loyal bodyguard for your vaping experience. 4. Large Tank and Efficient Coils: The iTank T Tank’s 6ml capacity and COREX 2.0 tech mean you spend more time vaping and less time refilling. The coils are like the marathon runners of the vaping world—long-lasting and always on point. 5. Leak Resistance: Thanks to its superior design, this tank is about as leak-proof as they come. It's got more seals than a beach in California, ensuring your e-liquid stays exactly where it should. Cons 1. Size and Weight: While it’s built like a tank, it also feels a bit like carrying one. The GEN MAX may not be the best travel buddy for tight pockets or small bags. 2. Battery Not Included: You’ll need to supply your own 18650 batteries. It’s like buying a toy without batteries on Christmas—you’re all set to go, but then there's that extra step before the fun starts. 3. Complexity for Beginners: New vapers might find the wealth of options a bit daunting. It’s like jumping into the deep end when you're just learning to swim. However, for seasoned vapers, these features are a big plus. In Essence The Vaporesso GEN MAX is a powerhouse packed with personality and performance. It's designed for the vaper who loves tech, appreciates quality, and enjoys having control over their vaping experience. While it might be a bit bulky and requires a bit of an upfront setup with the batteries, once you get going, it’s all smooth sailing—or should I say, smooth vaping. Whether you’re cloud chasing or flavor savoring, the GEN MAX aims to please and mostly hits the mark. What’s in the Box: Unpacking the Vaporesso GEN MAX When you get your hands on the Vaporesso GEN MAX, you’re in for a treat. Let's dive into what you’ll find in the box, ensuring you’ve got everything you need to start your high-powered vaping journey. Here’s the full inventory: Packing List - Vaporesso GEN MAX Mod - The heart of the kit, offering up to 220 watts of customizable power. - Vaporesso iTank T - A robust tank with a generous 6ml capacity, designed for top-tier performance and minimal leakage. - GTI 0.20 Mesh Coil (Pre-Installed) - Ready to use right out of the box, ideal for those eager to get started without fuss. - GTI 0.42 Mesh Coil (In-Box) - An additional option for vapers looking to fine-tune their experience based on personal preference. - Extra Glass Tube - A handy spare to keep your vaping uninterrupted, because accidents happen. - 2 x O-Ring - Essential for maintaining a tight seal and ensuring your tank is leak-proof. - Refilling Silicone Plug - Enhances the refilling process, keeping it clean and simple. - Type-C Cable - For fast and efficient charging, making sure you’re never too long without your vape. - User Manual & Warranty Card - Provides all the necessary instructions and safety information, plus details on your warranty coverage. - Safety Manual - Extra precautions and usage tips to ensure you vape safely and sustainably. First Impressions when unboxing Opening the box is like a mini Christmas for vapers. Everything is neatly packed and ready to assemble. The inclusion of two different coils is particularly thoughtful, allowing users to customize their vaping right from the start. The extra glass tube and O-rings are a nice touch, providing peace of mind and added value. The presence of a Type-C cable underscores Vaporesso’s commitment to modern, user-friendly design. It’s clear that when you buy the GEN MAX, you’re not just purchasing a vape mod and tank; you’re investing in a comprehensive vaping system designed to deliver a premium experience. Whether you’re a seasoned vaper or a curious newcomer ready to dive into the deep end, the GEN MAX kit ensures you have everything you need to make the most of your vaping sessions. Just remember to pick up some 18650 batteries if you don’t have them lying around, and you’ll be all set to explore the clouds of vapor that the GEN MAX can produce. How to Use the Vaporesso GEN MAX: A Step-by-Step Guide Getting started with the Vaporesso GEN MAX might seem like a task for the tech-savvy, but don’t worry—I've broken it down into simple steps so you can jump into vaping with confidence. Here’s how to get the most out of your new GEN MAX kit: 1. Install the Tank - Secure the Connection: Attach the iTank T to the battery module by screwing the base of the tank onto the mod. Ensure it’s snug but don’t over-tighten. 2. Replace the Coil - Access the Coil: Unscrew the base of the tank. - Coil Replacement: Pull out the used coil if there's one and push in a new coil, making sure it's firmly seated. - Reassemble: Screw the base back onto the tank. 3. Fill E-liquid - Open the Top Cap: Gently push the refilling top cap to expose the filling hole. - Add E-liquid: Carefully pour your favorite e-liquid into the tank, avoiding the central airflow tube. - Seal the Tank: Slide the top cap back into place and ensure it’s securely closed. 4. Adjust the Airflow - Customize Your Draw: Rotate the air-inlet ring at the top of the tank to adjust the airflow to your liking—tighter for a more restricted draw or looser for more airiness. 5. Power On/Off the Device - Activate the Mod: Press the power button five times quickly to turn the device on or off. 6. Power Adjustment - Adjust Settings: Depending on the coil you're using, adjust the power output to match the recommended wattage. This ensures optimal performance and flavor. 7. Start Vaping - Enjoy Your Vape: Press the power button while inhaling to start vaping. Adjust your grip and button-press strength based on comfort and desired vapor output. 8. Charge the Battery - Connect the Charger: Plug the Type-C cable into the mod and connect it to a power source. - Monitor Charging: The display will indicate the charging status and battery level. It’s best to charge fully before the first use. 9. Lock or Unlock the Device - Secure Your Settings: Slide the lock button to lock the mod, preventing accidental adjustments or activation. 10. Choose a Mode - Explore Vaping Modes: Press the power button three times continuously to enter the menu setting. Here, you can select from various modes like F(t), Pulse, ECO, and Variable Voltage to enhance your vaping experience. 11. Themes Selection and System Settings - Personalize Your Experience: Dive into the system settings to choose a theme that suits your style or adjust operational settings like the Smart ON/OFF function, puff counter, screen brightness, and more. By following these steps, you’ll ensure that your Vaporesso GEN MAX is set up for optimal performance right from the start. Whether you're looking for big clouds or intense flavor, the GEN MAX is designed to meet your vaping needs with just a few adjustments. https://youtu.be/HE0JGhU9yKc Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) About the Vaporesso GEN MAX When diving into a new device like the Vaporesso GEN MAX, it’s natural to have questions. Here are some of the most common inquiries users have about this advanced vaping system, along with straightforward answers to help you get the best experience. Is the Vaporesso Gen MAX Starter Kit Pass Through Compatible? Answer: No, the Vaporesso GEN MAX is not pass-through compatible due to its reliance on 18650 battery cells. It's recommended to charge the batteries externally in a dedicated charger to ensure safety and battery longevity. How Do I Turn On the Gen MAX Mod? Answer: To turn on the GEN MAX Mod, quickly click the fire button five times. This same action is used to turn off the device, securing it against unintended use when not actively vaping. Can I Use Different Batteries in the Gen MAX Mod? Answer: You must use two of the same type of 18650 battery cells in the GEN MAX Mod. Always use matched batteries with the same level of charge and brand to ensure optimal performance and safety. This practice, often referred to as "marrying" your batteries, is crucial for maintaining the health of the batteries and device. How Do I Store My Gen MAX Vape Mod When It’s Not in Use? Answer: Always power off your mod when not in use. If you’re storing the device for an extended period, remove the batteries and store them safely. Also, ensure the airflow on your iTank is closed to prevent any accidental leakage. How High Should I Vape My GTi Coil? Is There an Upper or Lower Limit? Answer: The GTi 0.20 ohm coil is typically rated for 60-75W, while the GTi 0.42 ohm coil is best used between 50-60W. Always start at the lower end of the recommended wattage and adjust according to your taste and vapor preferences. Exceeding the recommended wattage can risk burning the coil, especially if it’s not properly primed. What Does the 'F(t)' Mode Do? Answer: The 'F(t)' mode on the GEN MAX is designed to enhance your vaping experience by adjusting the temperature, heating speed, and timing to release flavors more efficiently. It ensures a balanced taste from the first puff, offering a consistent vaping experience. How Long Does It Take to Charge the GEN MAX? Answer: Charging time can vary based on the power source and the condition of the batteries. Typically, with a 2A charger, it can take about 2 to 3 hours to fully charge the batteries. It’s best to monitor the device during charging to avoid any issues. Final Thoughts on the Vaporesso GEN MAX After a thorough test drive of the Vaporesso GEN MAX, it's clear this device isn’t just blowing smoke. It’s the Iron Man of vape mods—tech-savvy, robust, and sure to make you feel like a superhero when you use it. Whether you’re cloud chasing or flavor savoring, the GEN MAX packs a punch that can satisfy novices and aficionados alike. Just remember, it’s not pocket-sized unless you're wearing cargo pants, and you'll need to BYOB (Bring Your Own Batteries). All in all, if vaping were a game, the GEN MAX would be playing on expert mode. Where to buy Vaporesso GEN MAX from the official @$72.90 Read the full article

[hatchetfieldtheories]

Ridiculous Hatchetfield Theories - Masterlist

A link to all of the Ridiculous Hatchetfield Theory submissions so far.

(Mostly for my own sanity as tumblr tagging is atrocious and I can never find anything)

Emma is another Paul clone

Unicorns roam Hatchetfield streets at night

Man in a Hurry is John McNamara

Hannah is secretly a lord in black

Zoey is a clone of Melissa

Chorn is all of the Lords in Black

The MAMD... beings... exist in the Black and White

Hidgens is a Lord in Black

Bill is the Space Bastard

A tiny little Paul is in every Wiggly

Mr.Davidson is just Sam in disguise

Ted has a thing for Gary Goldstein Attorney In Law

Paul and Deb are siblings

Wilbur is the main character of Hatchetfield

Ted's moustache is drawn on with a marker, but after the apotheosis, the hive made it real.

Emma is secretly the Greenpeace Girl

Tim is actually Hannah

Woolly - the additional Lord in Black

Each universe that sparks a different timeline or alternate universe is actually one of Wiggly’s nipples

Ethan is a cyborg sent to spy on the Fosters

CCRP is controlled by Chimera

Linda and Gary are Paul and Emma from another timeline

Ted is Hidgens

Melissa is secretly the big boss of CCRP

Carol Davidson is actually a Paul clone

Cornwallis is the Lords in black and Webby's father

The Lords in Black are born from a Space deity who's hooked up with McNamara (who is Time) and Tinky is their child.

Zoey and Melissa are the same person

Charlotte and Becky are twins

Charlotte is Colonel Schaeffer undercover

The Watchers With a Thousand Eyes from Trail to Oregon are just Blinky.

Peanuts the squirrel is actually Jane in a different Hatchetfield universe

Webby is Jane

Paul and Wiggly are one and the same

Paul is an undercover PEIP agent

Linda and Pamela are Emma and Jane's long lost sisters

The Lords in Black live in a run-down neighbourhood of the Care Bears kingdom

MIAH is a magical girl

Cathy, Carol, and Charlotte are all the same person

Greenpeace Girl is a descendant of General Store Guy

Nora is the big boss of CCRP

Tom is short for Tomothy and Tim is short for Thimas

The entire show of TGWDLM was a very elaborate prank pulled on Paul and Emma

Wiggly and Cthulhu are somehow related.

Linda and Emma were switched at birth

Paul Matthews is a descendant of Willabella Muckwab

Peanuts is a spy for Wiggly

The Emma killed by Droid23 became Wiggly

MIAH is secretly Gerald

Ted Spankoffski is Tim Jerkowski

Paul is Tinky

The Hatchetfield Ape-Man is Nibbly

Danny from Smoked is Paul

Wiley is actually Owen from Spies are Forever

The meteor was actually Pokey's egg

All the Mariah characters in Hatchetfield are Melissa

Peanuts made Becky climb up that tree

Until he was hit by lightning, Hidgens also hated musicals

Paul is Lex and Hannah’s uncle

The Paul clones escaped and became... everyone

After being rejected for an audition, Hidgens hid his love for musicals... until the apotheosis happened.

Melissa and Nora went enemies to lovers

Hatchetfield is the Bad Place

Mouthface from Trail to Oregon is Nibbly

Jingle and Jangle are both Father Time

The Lords in Black are the chickens who survived Emma's bus accident in Guatemala

Dan and Donna are the parents of most of the Hatchetfield kids

Latte Hottay is actually just a drink name

Miss Holloway is Webby

The latte hottie is just not real

Hannah is the child of Webby and a descendant of Willabella Mukwab

Clivesdale loves Hatchetfield

Uncle Wiley is every Joey character in Trail to Oregon

Wiggly chooses to speak uwu and his brothers hate it

Paul is genuinely not nervous and just happy for a little bit

Paul still lives with his parents and it's very important for some reason

Stanley is Paul's older brother

Grandpa is a super powerful being (TTO)

Lex and Hannah are Paul and Emma's kids

Wilbur really is the LiB's uncle

Hannah and Miss Holloway are the same person

Nibbly is Craphole Dikrats

MIAH is a Time Bastard

Hannah and Pokey used to be friends

Tom and Becky are time travellers

Any starkid character with a watch is PEIP

MIAH is Tinky

Jack Bauer is Peanuts

Duolingo Owl is Wiggly

Sam and Gary fathered two of the Monroe boys

Peanuts is Tinky's... wife

Becky Barnes is Cathy's cat

Hannah is an egg for a Lord in Black

Willabella cursed the Spankoffski bloodline

[percabethfiles]

Charlie

Uh... Hello? Anybody still here? I haven't been around in years and years. But I keep my fandoms stored in some corner of my brain waiting for something to tug them out. And of all things this time it was Taylor Swift re-releasing her old songs, because I used to imagine so many percabeth scenes listening to "Fearless". So have this little something that's been sitting unfinished in my archives for years now.

Remember that time Percy saw Sadie Kane and thought “Hey, this is what mine and Annabeth’s daughter would look like”? Yes.

(Also there are small nods to that fic I wrote about Logan, Hidden Heritage, but I've been meaning to re-write it someday because there were SO MANY PLOT HOLES omg)

When they find out it’s a girl it’s a bit too soon to know for sure, or so the doctor tells them. They’ll have to wait for the next appointment to know for certain. “So don’t go buying any tiny dresses yet,” he jokes and they laugh along, but they’ve been together for approximately eighteen years now, they can tell what the other’s thinking with a glance and the ecstatic grin that breaks through their lips lets him know they’re on the same page. Too late. They’re already thinking plush bow and arrows and a Merida costume for her first Halloween.

Percy tries to keep his cool. As the weeks progress, he tries not to get his hopes up, but in his heart he knows already. They hadn’t really had a preference before, they’d been too happy knowing their baby was fully human and had all its limbs (with the number of deities they’d pissed off, you never knew), but a little girl? It feels right after their two boys, it feels like their family will be complete.

(He thinks about a slight blonde girl with streaked hair and a British accent dropping from the sky on a magic camel, remembers thinking “if Annabeth and I had a daughter…” and his chest squeezes tight with happiness so raw he has a little trouble breathing)

When the doctor beams at them next appointment and says “Congratulations, Jackson family, it really is a girl,” he’s not surprised, but no less elated. He doesn’t hear the lame joke about Jackson Five, he’s too busy trying to be a manly man and not burst into tears because he’s going to have a daughter. When Annabeth’s in the other room paying for the appointment, and he’s waiting for the doctor to print the really impressive high tech 3D picture of the ultrasound, the man asks him “So did you go ahead and buy a tiny dress anyway?”

Percy blushes.

The man shakes his head in amusement. “Every time”.

His work colleagues, proud dads of little girls themselves, try to terrorize him with tales of tea parties and future boyfriends, and Percy thinks somewhere in the middle of all that teasing they mean well, but really, he’s mostly annoyed. It’s not like he’s new to parenthood, he’s got two sons already and they seem to be turning out okay, and before, when Logan and Nathan were just a nice dream for the future, there was Estelle, the little sister Percy had never expected, but loved to bits all the same.

And then Charlie is born.

She’s tiny, warm and pink, all curled up in her yellow cable-knit blanket, a tuft of blonde hair peeking out of a tiny, tiny beanie, features scrunched into the most adorable variation of a grumpy face. He’s not new to parenthood, he’s been here twice before, but the rush of affection and protectiveness and awe and raw love is just as genuine. He’s smiling like a dork, can’t seem to stop, walking from side to side, avidly searching her traits. She’s bigger than Nate was when he’d been born, but smaller than Logan. Her hair was light, like Nate’s, would it stay blonde or darken with time? Would her eyes be like his or Annabeth’s? And oh, she had her mother’s nose (they all did).

It never fails to amaze him how such a small, vulnerable being can shake up his whole world until it’s made a space for her. And he’s done this before, he’s no first time sailor this time, he’d thought he had it all under control. But she blinks and looks up at him with half-lidded eyes and a frowny face and—they’re green. Her eyes are the blue-green Logan’s are, Percy’s are.

(He’s got two sons who are his life, and he does love all his children equally, but holding his daughter for the first time, he thinks he understands his friends’ warnings. He doesn’t love her more, it’s just… different. It’s special.)

When he goes back to work, Nick takes one look at him and bursts into laughter. He claps him on the shoulder in commiseration.

“I told you.”

He’s completely wrapped around her finger already.

It’s not too different, he finds out. Especially having been pre-trained by Estelle. He’s got to brush up on his Disney princess knowledge, and hair braiding skills. He hasn’t gotten much better at color coordinating the polka dotted bows and tiny shoes, but Charlie is really forgiving. She is a very happy baby, much happier and easy going than any of the boys had been.

She’s also fucking crazy.

She is smaller and skinnier than her brothers, likes to wear frilly dresses and talk to plush animals and dance around the house in a pink tutu, but she’s wild. She never learned to crawl, just held on to the couch until she was wobbling on two feet, and it seemed like the very next day she was running across the house, the mall, the park, and if he turned his eyes away for one second, she was shooting off in the streets and nearly getting run over.

He’d found her dangling from the kitchen cabinets, trying to reach the cowering cat. She had a phase when she thought she could fly and she would climb furniture and stairs and the window sill and just… Launch herself into the air expecting her flying powers to manifest spontaneously. If they hadn’t been trying to raise them away from the whole mythological world, he would have sat her down and clarified that she had the wrong Olympian Grandparent in mind. She might have had more luck jumping into the ocean.

She had a way to jut out her lower lip, and turn those big green eyes on him that could render his every effort to be a responsible parental presence useless.

Besides, she was so funny. He could never muster enough anger to discipline her, because if he found her on the kitchen table covered in peanut butter, somehow sporting a very sticky Mohawk, and looking entirely unapologetic, well, he just couldn’t stop laughing.

One day he’s coming home from work and he hasn’t even pulled the key from the lock when Charlie calls out ‘you’re back daddy,’ in what sounds vaguely like a new jersey accent. He finds her sitting on the floor of the living room, drowning in one of Annabeth’s bathrobes, pink plastic barbie sunglasses on, holding a pooh bear sippy cup with one hand and a pinky stretched out.

“Charlie, what are you doing?”

“It’s wine Wednesday, daddy.”

“It’s what?”

“Wine Wednesday.”

He had half a mind to check if her sippy cup actually contained wine because they hid their alcohol way up in the cabinets she can’t reach but that girl could climb like a monkey. He knows he should follow that remark up with some kind of questioning of where she’d even heard of ‘wine Wednesdays’ and then explain that kids don’t drink wine or some other kind of responsible parent speech, but a sudden burst of incredulous laughter bubbles up in his throat and he takes refuge in the kitchen, lest he encourages her behavior.

He finds Annabeth there, hand over her mouth, clearly in stitches over their daughter’s performance. He wants to question if she gave her permission to wear her bathrobe but finding his wife nearly doubled over in silent laughter in the kitchen is too much and he finally lets out the guffaw he’d been trying to hold on to.

It’s not the first time Charlie leaves them breathless with laughter, and he’s almost scared of what she’s going to cook up in the future.

Charlie is a hellion.

There isn’t one person safe from her pranks, but she’s so adorable she hardly ever catches hell for it, and she’s learning to use it in her favor – thankfully, just in time for her parents to develop immunity to her puppy eyes. And she’s… difficult, yes, but not always, and not in a terrible way. For all her climbing the roof, organizing illegal cookie sales, getting in fights with her classmates, she’s not a bad kid. She’s got Percy’s penchant for befriending the kids no one wants to go near, and defending her ragtag team of losers. She’s loyal to a fault, and it gets her in trouble often.

She and Nate have epic jealousy fights over everything, including – but not limited to – Logan’s attention, the crayons, the biggest piece of cake and all the videogame characters in the world are not enough, they will always want whatever the other picked. It gives them many, many headaches. Logan, on the other hand, positively spoils her, and whenever Charlie gets in trouble they can be sure to find her hiding behind her big brother while he gives them this solemn look and says “It’s ok, mom and dad, Charlie promises she won’t do it again. We’ve talked.”

When the whole “Logan being attacked by a dracanae in school and thus finding out his Olympian heritage” debacle came to pass, and they started frequenting camp again, there was nowhere in the entire Camp Charlie would rather be than the stables. She’d spend hours there with the Aphrodite kids, brushing the pegasi and talking to them endlessly about all her classmates and her friends, and her dolls, and her new dress, and the new book grandma gave her. It was all really cute until Percy realized the pegasi were talking back, and she fully understood their replies.

And it’s funny, really, because Logan had taken after Percy, to a point where bathing him had been hard as a child because he tended to stay dry in the tub, and Nathan was Annabeth to a T, but Charlie was a perfect mix of them both.

He guesses it makes sense it would be so explosive.

When Charlie is twelve, she gets kicked out of school.

Percy is not overly worried about it himself – the number of schools he’d been kicked out of reached double digits, and this was only her first – but he is worried about how she will feel. Getting the boot from a place that’s housed you for years, where your friends are, where everyone already knows you and having to start over is never pleasant, no matter how used to it you were.

He’d expected the school to have gotten tired of all her pranks and misbehaving, which was fair, he guessed. But when Annabeth comes home from the meeting with the school director, she is seething, and not at their daughter. Charlie is angry too. In fact, it’s the first time he’s ever seen his daughter well and truly pissed off. The two of them are a sight for nightmares, both blondes standing side by side ranting with righteous fury, they look ready to start a revolution. What he gets from her angry snarls and Charlie’s rushed rambling is that Charlie had talked back to a teacher that was picking on the autistic kid and demeaning the thirteen year old who was repeating sixth grade.

She’d called him a brain-washing small minded overgrown bully who, he was quoting, didn’t get enough love from his parents.

And Percy is so proud his eyes even get a little misty.

Because he’s getting old and sentimental and raising kids is very hard. No one knows what they’re doing, not one person, not even the fancy psychologists with those books on raising perfect, well rounded, high-achieving members of society that Annabeth insisted on reading when she was pregnant with Logan. You do your best and you hope for the best, and you don’t know what you get until it’s basically too late to do anything about it. And even if he did have the best mom in the history of the entire world to draw example from, he was also half of an absent Olympian father whose heritage condemned him to dance in and out of battlefields half his life.

He’s always been terrified of being a crap father.

He looks at Charlie cussing out with every mild version of actual cuss words, stalking around the kitchen like a little lioness in a cage, furious at the unfairness of the whole situation, caring less about being expelled and more about who was going to defend her friends from that awful teacher when she’s gone.

His daughter is only twelve, but she’s already so brave, such a force of nature. She won’t stand for injustice, and she won’t take insult lying down. And she’s so kind. She’s growing up, and the person she is slowly turning out to be… is good.

And something in his heart shifts and settles down, smooths over old fears and anxious thoughts.

Percy doesn’t mean to brag, but he thinks he’s not doing half bad as a parent.

[burningbridgesblacknblue]

Chase

Summary: Evangelina had to run away from Andy to protect her son from the man  his father was becoming.

Pairing:  OC X Biersack

Genre: Angst, romance, smut later, fantasy. FallenAngel!AU

December 5th, Two Years later, 5:30 PM “We found her sir,” a werewolf named James informed his superior, “She’s changed their names she also dyed her hair black.” Andy sat on his throne his hand beneath his chin as if he were trying to stay awake from such a boring conversation. However it was just the opposite he was actually thrilled that someone had located his missing family. Although he was disappointed to learn that his wife had actually abandoned him while stealing their child as well. “Just out of curiosity what names do they go by?” “Evangelina goes by Amy,” James told his superior who only smirked at this information. “And my son?” Andy asked this time amused and a little curious to know what name she had changed their kid’s name to. “Andrew Junior goes by the name Elijah now.” Andrew frowned he hated that name and he wondered now if Evan had changed AJ’s name to spite him even though he was still unsure why. He loved his wife and son so he was still confused as to why his wife and child had left. He hid his devastation well from his friends and minions but every day that passed by he thought of Evangelina and Andrew Junior. He was very unhappy knowing that when he found his wife he was going to have to have to punish her harshly for her leaving. No one made a fool of the Prophet. No one. That was the whole reason why he fell, he couldn’t be bossed around any longer but someone who was way too forgiving to those who did something that went against the supreme being. “And where are they now James?” Andrew asked finally sitting up fully. “New York City in the borough of Manhattan sir.” “I want my men in the city.” “Yes sir we should be able to surround her building easily—” “No I just want them to watch her for a week or two,” he replied, “I want to make her nervous enough to realize that we actually have found her.” “Yes your highness,” James replied, “We’ll take care of it right away.” “Notify me three days after your arrival,” Andrew ordered, “I will join you in the city after my meeting with the guardians.” “Of course.” The werewolf then bowed his head and exited the room; a norc opening the door for him. Once the creature had left the throne room Andrew turned to his man Jeremy, a fallen angel like himself but with the ability to heal any creature. “Elijah?” he snorted, “Can you believe that?” His friend chuckled, “She had wanted to name AJ that since her first trimester.” “I’m aware.” He mumbled lowly, “Not only did she leave by choice but she had to spite me while doing it.” “Don’t be so sensitive,” Jeremy chided, “She has been located and a few days you will have your family back.” “You’re right,” Andrew sighed before standing to his full 6’4 height, “We better begin with the preparations, we only have a week and my wife is very…particular.” Jeremy laughed and nodded his head, “Always has been.” “Always will be….” Andrew mumbled as he followed his friend from the throne room. *** December 9th 2:30 PM Four days later “Hayden…” I mumbled in to the phone while I played with my cup of tea, “I think he’s found us.” “How do you know?” “I’ve seen two werewolves, a warlock, and I’m entirely sure that I have seen Ashley down on my sidewalk.” “Well that’s a sheer sign if there ever was one,” he told me with a humorless chuckle, “What do you want to do?” “I don’t know if I pick up and leave now he’ll be sure to follow us,” I sighed running a hand through my hair, “I have to face him.” “Do you really think that’s going to work?” “What choice do I have?” I asked in return , “Eli keeps asking me about him and why he isn’t like the other kids anyway it’s time to grow up and do what I know I have to.” “Well put Evan I was about to play the inspirational music for you,” he teased me and I rolled my eyes. “Shut up,” I looked over my shoulder when my heightened senses picked up on the tiny pitter patter of my son’s footsteps. “I’ve gotta got Eli’s awake.” “Alright call me before you do anything.” I told him I would before I hung up the phone to turn around before my son came barreling down the hallway seeking me out in our tiny two bedroom apartment. I spread my arms for the fast paced child and swooped him up once he landed. “Oh my darling little cherub,” I chuckled as he snuggled in to my embrace letting a small yawn past his lips, “Are you still tired?” “Nuh uh,” he told me, “I awake now Mommy.” “Are you sure?” “Uh huh!” “Alright then,” I kissed his head, “It’s snack time for my little dude.” “Can I have a cookie?” he asked me sweetly playing with the ends of my hair. “Not right now,” I told him softly, “After dinner.” “Alwight,” he mumbled disappointedly. I smiled as I sat him down in his booster seat once again kissing his blonde head of hair. Why couldn’t my boy look more like me and less like his father? He had his eyes, his hair, his beautiful smile. Absolutely every physical trait that my husband has is reiterated in my son. I loved my son to death, but I despised that every time I looked in to Eli’s eyes I saw Andy. We had so many unresolved issues that I had such terrible resentment towards him. Even now as I contemplated the move I had to make after he actually closed in on us. I wondered if I should cooperate or make it hard on Andrew so it didn’t look like I was up to something? I didn’t know, I was more concerned with how Elijah would react to Andrew and vice versa. It was clear to me that he didn’t remember his father one bit since he always asked me about him and I knew that was bound to piss off his father. I’d cross that bridge when I got there, so I shook the troublesome thoughts away and served my son some sliced apples with a little peanut butter. As soon as I sat down there was a knock on my front door, I hated that our landlord hadn’t got around to fixing the main lock on the building’s door. Those Jehovah’s witnesses are a real pain in the asshole. I pushed my chair away from the table. “Remember the drill my cherub?” I asked my son as I ruffled his blonde curls. He nodded his head as I pulled him out of his booster seat and tucked him under the table to keep him safe, “I hide until you say da magic word.” “That’s right,” I squeezed his small hand, “Mommy will be right back.” He gave me a thumbs up as I continued on to our foyer, I got on my toes to peek out the peephole. I couldn’t see anyone so I poked my head just enough outside the door to see if there was anyone out there. But it came up clean so I closed the door until there was a booted foot caught between my sanctuary and the danger I knew my kid and I were in. I didn’t fight as hard as I should have but I didn’t want to frighten my kid, so slowly I backed away from the door as the booted foot pushed it open wide enough to reveal to me the seraphim I had left behind. He wore a leather jacket with a muscle shirt beneath it, tight black jeans and a devious smile that made all the old feelings come rushing back right where it hurt. I backed up slightly and nervously as I tried to gain as much distance as I could. I would do anything to keep him from touching me. I knew the moment he did it would be all over even with all the repressed anger I had for the seraphim standing in my doorway. “My darling…” his deep voice drawled, “Still as beautiful as ever even with pitch black hair.” “Thanks,” I held down the blush and covered my true feelings with sarcasm, “How’s Juliet?” He chuckled at me, “She’s well the black eye that you gave her healed rather badly.” “That’s nice to hear,” I replied getting a little kick out of the damage I inflicted, “Would you like a matching one?” “Is that anyway to talk to your husband?” “Is that what you are?” I asked sarcastically, “I thought you were a bad decision my parents made.” I saw his jaw twitch in anger and a long time ago I would have swallowed in fear but since I had Elijah my demeanor had changed I had become a protective mamma bear. I would brave fires and hell for my son’s safety. His father was close enough to being hell on earth. I had to learn how to swallow my fears in order to protect my child from his own father. “I like to think I enhanced your life for the better,” he replied after a moment stepping further in to my hallway, closing the door behind him. He looked around my apartment his eyes shifting around to the toddler toys I had placed around my small home. I snorted, “We’ve always been complete opposites even when we were kids.” “That’s obvious considering the downgrade you’ve made,” he openly mocked my two bedroom apartment with a laugh and a look of disgust, “You went from our palace to this little hole in the wall?” “That palace was never my home Andrew and you know it,” I growled at him feeling my wings shift angrily from where they hid in my back. “And I’ve never understood why since I did everything in my power to change everything so that it was to your liking…” “Aesthetically maybe Andy but you never made me feel welcome after you—” “After I what Evangelina?” he questioned him, his eyes turning in to blue fire. “…After you fell.” “Whose fault was that huh?” Andy barked at me losing his temper slightly, “It wasn’t mine that’s for certain.” “Are you serious?” I snapped at him, “I never asked you to follow me down here you did that on your own, the hierarchy sent me with a special request I would have returned to you. You knew that, don’t even try to make me feel like an idiot. You fell because of your lust for power, not because of your love for me, if you even have any.” “If I have any for you?” he snapped at me, “Would I have searched every end of this pathetic realm for you if I had no love for you?” I nodded my head, “I’m a possession that you don’t want to share with anyone.” “No you’ve seen my possessions,” he replied surprisingly calm, “I do not have children with my possessions.” “You have other children?” I asked bitterly, getting ready to throw a marble statue at his head at his admission. “Of course not Evan,” he shook his head, “That’s what I was trying to tell you.” I gave him a dirty look but he continued to back me up in to my own home. “However now that we’re on the subject where is my son?” he asked as he picked up one of Eli’s favorite stuffed animals; his elephant Toby, “If I remember correctly I gave him this toy right after he was born…Toby right?” I nodded my head stiffly. “Hey!” my son cried as he came barreling around my side of the double entry kitchen, I pulled him in to me immediately. He struggled with me but I refused to let him go for his own good. “I told you to hide,” I mumbled in disapproval. “I heard dat man say Toby,” he told me, “I thought you telled him da special word.” “Dat’s my toy Mr.!” Eli told him unhappily, something was brewing inside of Andrew as he looked at our boy. I guess it would be a bit of a shock, he hasn’t seen him two years he has gotten much bigger. “You haven’t taught him to share I see,” Andrew chuckled before approaching my son and I, I tried to put my baby behind me but the strong seraphim wouldn’t allow me to. “Andy—” He shot me a menacing look as he knelt down to my son’s level, “What would you say if I told you I gave you that elephant when you were a tiny baby?” “You gived me Toby?” Andrew smiled a genuine smile, “I did.” “How come?” “Because I’m your Daddy,” the seraphim admitted to our kid who looked unbelievably confused, he looked back to me for confirmation all while I glared at Andrew. “He’s my Daddy?” I nodded, “Yes Eli he’s your Daddy.” “How odd,” Andy said, “I could’ve sworn his name was Andrew Dennis Biersack Junior.” “Be quiet Andrew,” I snapped, “Don’t confuse him anymore you already dropped a bomb on him.” “I’m confusing him?” he snapped, “I didn’t take him away from you…he doesn’t even remember me!” “How can he?” I bit back in return, “You were too busy entertaining Juliet to even care about him!” “How dare you!” he roared and I honestly thought he was going to raise his hand at me, but my son’s frightful cry made him still in his place. “I apologize…Eli,” Andy told Elijah softly, “Your mother just frustrates me sometimes.” Eli only snuggled in to my side further refusing to acknowledge the older angel’s apology, once Andy realized that he adjusted his jacket and then pulled out an iPhone to check the time I assumed. “Come along Evangelina we have to get back to the palace in a few days,” He gestured for me to move forward, “We don’t want to be late for your homecoming party.”

[justreadingfics]

Looking For a Heartbeat (21/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Series Summary: You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left.  It’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings for this chapter: fluff, medical procedures that might be poorly written, birth, sappy moments that made this author cry a bit.  

 A/N:  Thank you @suz-123 for being so amazing. Links are messing up posts, you can find the masterlist link on my description.

Beautiful and magical.

That’s what you’ve always heard about giving birth. So far, all you’ve been feeling is excruciating pain and sheer panic.

After the water break, medical help was quick to get to you, since you were already at the med-bay. Doctor Nadine got there in record time and after examining you she said you were ready to give birth, despite you hadn’t even reached the 30th week. She offered a C-section, but also said the baby was in the right position and by how your dilation was progressing quickly, she thought a natural birth would be suitable. You said yes.

Damn you.  

Ugh, there it goes again.

Your face contorts into a grimace and sweat rolls of your forehead while strays of hair plaster all over. A guttural growl comes out of your lungs as another cramp twists your insides. You grip the hand in yours harder.

“How about those meds now, huh, sweetheart?” Bucky’s sweet and filled with concerned voice does little to soothe you while he carefully brushes the damp hair out of your face. Despite being recently shot, he only snarled at suggestions of resting and letting you be, at least for a moment. Not for a second he left your side and, if you’re gonna be honest, you’re grateful for that tight hold on your hand. “It’s time, isn't it, Doctor?” He addresses Doctor Nadine, who’s giving directions to nurses.

“Let me check one more time,” She hurries to put on a new glove and examines you as you breathe fast. “Oh, yeah. Right on time.”   

“Yes-ah-yes, please.” You groan and the grip in his hand grows even stronger as your head drop back in the chair. As much as you have thought about it before, the arguments to go completely natural seem like a bunch of stupid ideas right now when you’re so close to start pushing and you have no idea how you’ll live through the agonizing pain you’re already feeling, “Just give me anything.” You plea, eyes squeezed shut.

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” Bucky soothes and nods at Doctor Nadine.

“Ok, hun, hang in there. Our little soldier is anxious to come out,” She answers and moves to prep the medication.

After another, and powerful, contraction tightens your belly, you position yourself for analgesics to be applied under Bucky’s protective and vigilant eyes. You glance at him and he gives you a small nod and a sweet smile, offering his hand for you to hold again as he whispers for you to breathe.

Leaning back on the chair once again, you take in a deep and long sigh. You accept Bucky’s offer of his hand, but can’t quite respond to the smile. Yes, you’re in pain, but what’s been worrying you the most is how soon this is all happening. Doctor Nadine said that your body probably wasn’t being able to go on with the pregnancy anymore and that’s what caused the water to break after you exhausted yourself. Despite the assurances that the baby is fine and perfectly ready, you’re terrified. All you want is for all of this to be over soon so you can see for yourself their little face and make sure they’re safe.

Bucky is putting on a serene and strong façade for you, but you know he is just as worried. Nevertheless his presence is calming and a reminder that you're not alone to face whatever. He’s there with you and he’s the perfect partner for the mission of bringing your child to the world.

“Ok, mama,” Doctor Nadine stands at the end of the chair, “You’re ready to go.”

“That’s it, sweetheart.” Beside you, Bucky whispers close to your ear, “Just a few more moments and we’ll meet our little peanut.”

Yes… he’s right. You finally smile back at him.  “Ok.”   You nod at Bucky and  then at Doctor Nadine, “Let’s do this.”

~ ~~

Push… Push…Push…

Scream. 

“You’re doing so good, Y/N. We’re almost there.  A few more.”  Doctor Nadine encourages you.

Push.

You cry.

“Breathe baby, breathe.”

You focus on Bucky’s secure touch and his comforting voice and push again.

When you feel like you’re combusting in heat, Bucky rests his cold metal hand on your forehead and you breathe at the much needed relieving sensation. Much better than any wet washcloth.

You breathe. 1,2,3,4,5… Push.

You almost crush his hand when the ache coiling your core becomes unbearable. Fucking useless meds…

“Oooo, I can see a little crown.” The doctor’s words make your heart race even more.  

You and Bucky look at each other. In his eyes you catch the anxiety and excitement, the same feelings fuzzing your chest.

Push… Push….Push.

“I can’t...  I can’t anymore.” You sob, shaking your head, when exhaustion and pain take over all the other feelings that had been giving you the courage to keep pushing.  

“Yes, you can,” Doctor Nadine urges, “You’re doing so good, I bet that with another big one or two you’ll be able to see your little baby.”  

“One more, my love.” Bucky kisses your temple, gently whispering, “One more… You’re the strongest person I know. You can do this.”

Crying, you turn to him and at the sight of tears misting his gentle and expectant eyes, you nod, before pushing harder than ever, screaming all the air out of your lungs. The most powerful pain and pressure you’ve ever felt washes over you before it’s completely vanished. In a mix of exhaustion and relief, you pant. Letting your head fall back, you notice Bucky gasping beside you.

The sweetest sound of a cry fills up the room.

Your head snaps up and everything around you fades away.

A girl. A beautiful baby girl.   

Seconds later, Doctor Nadine places your baby in your chest and you’re already sobbing again. Not from pain anymore. Her little chubby face is scrunching up with feverous crying and time stops at the moment she clenches tightly her tiny fists to the air. You gave life to a child. Your whole heart out in the world. You fall in love immediately. You count every single little finger and she’s perfect. She’s perfect, big, and strong and beautiful.

You know right away this is the magic you’ve been hearing so much about. And it’s worth it. Everything you’ve gone through to get to that moment is completely worth it.

You take your eyes from her to look at Bucky and the expression you see on his face as he watches the little bundle of love in your arms will be forever engraved in your heart. The extraordinary feeling in your chest is intensified by the pure adoration in his face watching your daughter.

His daughter.

He brings his flesh hand to her chubby cheeks and you know immediately you’ve given birth to a daddy’s girl, because her crying turns into little sniffles before it ceases completely at her dad’s touch. 

“Our little girl,” He sobs with an enamored gaze stuck on the perfect little creature nuzzled against your chest, “Summer.” He smiles through his tears. “Our little Summer.” His watery eyes find yours.

You frown and, noticing the love lacing his words, a speed up film flashes in your mind. All the pain he’s been through, the life that has been taken away from him, the horror… How he overcame all of those years of cold and harsh winter and somehow continued to be the best man in the world. Seeing the sheer happiness on his face, you realize how much he deserves it. More than anyone.  Light is the only thing that should be in his world after all the darkness.

You smile. “Summer.” You forget all the name options you had thought about before, “It’s perfect… Our little sun.   Hey there, Summer, I’m your mama,” Your voice is shaky as you look at your daughter and she blinks, quietly observing you and Bucky with her big and already curious blue eyes. Just like her dad’s. You’re doomed.

You turn to him at the same time he does. His forehead leans against yours and, just like the most natural thing in the world, the kiss happens. It’s chaste, pure... and it tastes like forever… a kind of forever you’ve never experienced before. There’s no other intention behind it than to put into action the strongest feeling you’ve ever felt and shared, having your baby in your arms. When it’s over, quickly after it begun, your foreheads remain linked for a little while more and easy smiles adorn the lips of both of you.

After the doctor quickly dries off Summer, she offers Bucky to cut the cord, which he promptly and eagerly accepts, doing it without an ounce of hesitation. When she’s wrapped around a small blanket, you notice Doctor Nadine opening a curtain, revealing those waiting at the other side of a big glass window.

You smile at your friends, your family. You start crying all over again and wave at each one of them. Steve, Nat, Wanda, Sam, Vision, Tony, Pepper, Clint. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of Bruce, Thor and Carol, who had been long gone into space up till now. Laughter takes over you at the sight of some of them in pajamas while others in tactical gear.

After all the brave but exhausting work she’s been through with you, Summer is already sleeping against your chest when Bucky carefully takes her in his right arm, holding her like she’s the most fragile and valorous thing in the world, which she is, but doing it like a pro, which kind of surprises you. You have never seen him holding a baby before. After taking his time staring down at the precious little person with that adoring stare that belongs to her now, he turns and slowly steps closer to the window.

It’s almost comical to see the group of mighty superheroes come close together to get a better peek at your baby girl. You spot Steve, Nat, Wanda and Tony crying, Sam snapping some pictures with his phone while the others chant words of admiration and stupid grins. 

Your smile is just as stupid as theirs.

~~~

Later that night, you tried to breastfeed Summer – which turned out to be harder than you expected and a bit frustrating, but in the end you two managed to make the colostrum start to come out. Doctor Nadine told you she was born with 20 inches and a bit more than 7 pounds, which would already be big for a regular newborn, but it was amazing for a premature baby. She related it with Bucky’s genes but, apart from that, nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. She would keep running tests, nevertheless. You tried not to worry and focus on your beautiful and healthy baby. After all of that, both of you fell to slumber, which you knew it wouldn’t be long before you would have to feed her again.

Now, you’re only half-awake when a low and sweet whispering reaches your ears.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Peering through your barely opened lids, you see Bucky through the dim lights in the room. It must have been less than an hour since you slept. He’s holding Summer, who remains peacefully looking up at him as he slowly rocks her and paces around the room. Still not fully awake, and for completely selfish sneaky reasons, you decide to stay unnoticed for a little while longer and listen to the soft interaction. 

“Just like your mama… did you see how beautiful she is?”

You can hear the smile through his words as your heart twirls inside your chest and your lips curl up a bit. A warm wave flushes up to your cheeks.

“I was so happy when I found out you were a girl,” He continues whispering, “Don’t get me wrong, I would love you just as much anyway,” He’s quick to add and you can’t hold back the smile to come out fully, “but then I knew you would be just as perfect as your mama, and you are. I love you so, so much. I’m your daddy you know? And I will always be there for you, to keep you safe and happy and kick whoever’s ass you want me to.”

You suppress a laugh – because you know he’s telling the truth - and he stays quiet for a moment, just gazing at Summer in his arm. You can’t help but notice that, despite not showing hesitation in holding her, he hasn’t really touched her with his metal arm, always using it only as a support for the flesh one. You make a mental note about it. 

“Your mama loves you, too, you know?”

You suck in a breath.

“You got lucky, my little sun, you have the best mama in the world.” He smiles down at the quiet and observant newborn, “I’m gonna tell you a secret, but you gotta promise you’ll keep it, ok? I lo-”

Deciding you already have intruded enough in a moment that doesn’t belong to you, you yawn loudly and stretch your arms, making your awaken state noticeable.

“Hey,” You smile at him, carefully sitting up straight on the bed.

“Hey, did I wake you up?” He slowly walks over you.

“It’s ok,” you shake your hand, smiling, “I think it’s about time to feed her again. Is she awake?” You straighten up your neck to peek at your baby daughter, whose eyes remain on Bucky.      

“Yes, she whined a bit a few minutes ago, but then I picked her up and she got ok.” He can’t even hide the pride in his words, “You needed the rest, so I let you sleep a little more.”

Moving to the side of the bed, you pat the space you make for him and he promptly sits beside you, always careful in his moves while holding Summer.

Her eyes meet yours and then you become her new object of interest. You wonder if the emotions spilling inside you at her sight will cool down at some point… Probably not.

“Hi, sweetheart,” You scratch her little belly.    

“She looks just like you.” Bucky mumbles, not tearing his eyes away from her.

“She has your eyes,” you say, “She’s perfect isn’t she?”

“Yes she is. Just like you.” His eyes meet yours, “What you did tonight…It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. I always knew you were strong but that was just a whole other level.”

You have to take a moment to breathe, but you did hold back the tear to run down your face under his intense and devoted gaze. “It was worth it.” You whisper, as your words come out strangled, “I can’t believe we did it.” You add.

He scoffs. “I did nothing.”

You place your hand over his flesh one supporting Summer’s little back, “I wouldn’t have done it without you, Bucky.”

“Yes you would’ve.” He states, holding your gaze to his.

“It wouldn’t have been the same.” You state back, just as firmly as him. 

He swallows and nods shortly as a small smile shapes his lips.

“Our daughter… Can you believe it?” Bucky turns back to Summer.

For a long moment, you both sit in silence, admiring the little one in his arms. And that’s when you realize the truth in that old saying… everything happens for a reason. You wouldn’t have changed a thing in your past if it meant you would get to that moment. That perfect quietness among the three of you, that extraordinary feeling of sheer love…  

“We’re doomed. She’s got us wrapped around her tiny little finger, doesn’t she?” You cut through the silence and sigh, deeply, as you caress her hand with the back of yours.

Bucky chuckles, but before he could answer Summer starts fuzzing and his little face scrunches up before she starts crying. A loud and angry cry to put her first one to shame as she wiggles her clenched little fists to the air.

“Someone is hungry.” You laugh quietly and reach out your arms.

Promptly, but carefully, of course, Bucky hands the baby to you. He gets up from the bed as you adjust yourself and Summer to start opening up the buttons of your gown and nurse her.   

“Can- Can I stay?” Bucky asks tentatively, fidgeting with his fingers.

You look up at him and smile, “Please….” You nod, “Please, stay, Bucky.”  

~ ~~

Part 22 coming soon (ish)

[certifiedmoth]

Always and Forever

Headcanon - Dad!Michael

Word Count: 3.3K

Notes: Michael as a dad just absolutely kills me, this man deserves to be happy and loved okay

Warnings: a little bit of smut, and also lactation kink, that boy loves a titty

Credit to @yourkingcodyfern for the mikey gif

Okay so Michael would absolutely have mixed reactions at you becoming pregnant

You had both talked previously about wanting kids and starting a family together

But when you had felt sick a couple of mornings and decided to take a pregnancy test, he silently started freaking out as you both waited in silence

The test showed that you were pregnant and he froze

He had so many emotions going through his head

He was as happy as he thought he could possibly be, but also afraid of being a terrible father

You reassured him that he would be nothing like his dad and instead would be kind, loving and caring to his little one, just like he was with you

You always knew how to calm him down when he got too in his head

Michael would be a saint throughout your entire pregnancy

He literally worshipped the ground you walked on

You were his beautiful goddess, carrying the life you both created, and he never thought it was possible to have it this good in life

He brings you whatever food you want, gives you massages, and makes sure you never have to lift a finger

He enjoys resting his head on your stomach and talking to his baby

He goes overboard with the crib, stroller, clothes, everything… nothing but the best for his little bub

You thought he was protective before? Ha, he literally never leaves you alone now

One day when you were 8 months pregnant, you needed some alone time and wanted to go for a walk

The thought alone nearly gave him an aneurysm

He was hesitant about letting you go out by yourself, but you assured him you’d be fine and insisted that he not try anything. He, however, sent a bodyguard to follow you, just to make sure nothing happened, to which you scowled at

Often he would cancel meetings if you were feeling even slightly unwell. He always needed to be as close to you as he could at this time

Michael would be so excited and nervous about the birth

He knew the circumstances surrounding his mother’s death and his greatest fear was that that would happen to you

He tried to push those thoughts aside though and get excited for the arrival of your little one

You had insisted that you didn’t want him to use any magic on you to lessen the pain because you wanted to experience the birth of your child as naturally as possible and he respected your decision

It killed him inside to see you in so much pain though

He was right there by your side the entire time, holding your hand and praising you for how well you were doing

Once he heard the first small cry of his baby boy, his world completely stopped

He watched with teary eyes as you held your son in your arms for the first time

He reached his finger out and your son instantly grabbed onto it with his tiny, but powerful fist, which filled Michael with an insurmountable amount of love

You both sat there for what felt like ages, silently staring at him in awe

He couldn’t believe that he had created something so beautiful and magnificent

The first few days home were stressful to say the least

But you and Michael wouldn’t have changed any of it though, both of you felt full to the brim of love and happiness

You leaned on each other as you figured out parenthood together

You were so exhausted after the birth that Michael usually took night duty

Which he didn’t complain about

He loved any extra time he could get with his little one

You’d lay in bed, startled awake by your son’s cries and you could hear Michael cooing and softly humming to him from the other room

He’d hold him right up to his chest and tell him that everything would be okay and that he would never let anything happen to him or his mama

On some nights though, what your baby really wanted was milk so Michael had to unfortunately wake you up

He could never get tired of the sight of you feeding his child though

Part of him would get slightly jealous, wishing that it was him that was suckling from you

He’d lean over and kiss your neck, whispering softly “make sure to save some for me”

He would never get tired of your giggle that always accompanied that particular comment

Most mornings were spent lazily in bed, taking your time getting up

You’d lay in bed with Michael and your son, taking in the sight of your two favorite boys laughing and loving on each other

Your son would grab on to Michael’s hair tightly and he’d always grunt, trying to make him release his grip which caused you to laugh

“You think that’s funny, huh? I don’t laugh when he bites you while breastfeeding”

“Because that actually hurts” you’d reply with a huge grin, teasing him

“This hurts!” he’d reply, only making you laugh harder, before helping him out of your son’s grasp

Throughout the day you’d be able to hear Michael talking to your son about whatever was on his mind

Sometimes it was about official cooperative business and you found that especially entertaining

Speaking of business, Michael would absolutely loathe having to leave the both of you for any meeting or other work related thing

He still had the sanctuary to run though

Unfortunately to Michael’s dismay, everybody knew about the birth of your son from seeing you pregnant for the last couple of months

If it was up to Michael though, he would have the both of you locked away where he knew you were safe and no prying eyes or hurtful hands could follow

But of course, everybody still knew

Nobody spoke about it though, because they already knew how fiercely protective he was with you

They could only imagine how much more intense his protective nature was with his child

And they were all right

If anyone dare even mention Michael’s family, he would burn them alive before they could finish their sentence

As your son got older and was eventually a toddler instead of your baby boy, Michael couldn’t help but get sad over your little one growing up

He cherished every moment he had with you and your son, because he felt that time was going by too fast

This was when he started the conversation of having another one

You had been ready for a while but didn’t feel the need or urge to bring it up

Michael came up behind you one day while you were playing with your son and wrapped his arms around your waist, whispering in your ear, “I want another one, love…”

Shortly after you were pregnant with your second child

You had assumed this pregnancy would be similar to your first one, but you were wrong

You didn’t have much morning sickness, but you were hormonal, hungry and horny all the time

It was a lot to deal with

Michael didn’t appreciate your temper or attitude (although he would never actually say anything about it)

It appeared to him that he now had two pouty toddlers to take care of

Michael consistently bit his tongue whenever you gave him sass and instead he showered you with even more love and affection, knowing that it was just your hormones that were affecting you

Your appetite also became a problem, although an entertaining problem to Michael

You were constantly snacking throughout the day, especially weird things too

You once ate a whole jar of peanut butter much to Michael’s surprise

Also, sauerkraut on everything

Michael really didn’t understand it but he tried his best not to judge or laugh

With this pregnancy you became insatiable when it came to sex, too

Morning sex, sex after breakfast, shower sex, Michael just got home sex, sex before bedtime, etc.

You needed him almost constantly

It was nonstop and Michael really couldn’t complain, he loved how ferocious you had become, but he was starting to get tired (even though he would never admit it)

Michael was tired a lot these days, having to deal with work, a toddler, and his pregnant wife, but he wouldn’t have changed any of it

He loved his life and thought it wasn’t possible to have any more love to give or to receive, but that changed when you both welcomed your little girl into the world

He looked at his daughter in complete awe

She had your eyes and hair color and Michael couldn’t have been more in love

You see, where your daughter looked like you, your son was a mini replica of Michael with curly blonde hair that could never stay out of his bright, blue eyes

Soon after, Michael brought him in to meet his little sister and he smiled so hard you thought he might explode

“Mama, mama she’s so tiny!” he’d say excitedly

Michael would pick him up to sit on his lap as you all doted on your new addition to the family

As it turns out, your son was a great big brother

He was very attentive to the baby’s needs and tried to help as much as he could (although I don’t know if you could technically call it help, he was a toddler after all and didn’t have the gentlest of hands)

But nonetheless, it was still cute and warmed both yours and Michael’s heart to see him be so affectionate with her

He also proved to be a very protective brother

On one of your first outings with her, somebody got too close for his liking as they admired your little girl and he jumped in front and yelled, “Back off! She’s delicate”

He had remembered Michael using the word to describe her when he was a little too rough one day holding her

You shared an apologetic look to the innocent bystander and Michael wore a smirk on his face, as proud as he’s ever been of his son

He knew that he could rely on his boy to protect his two favorite girls no matter what

Your son would never let anything happen to you or your daughter, he was fiercely protective of you two, just like his daddy

Michael was clearly rubbing off on him

Anything Michael did, he wanted to do as well

Michael would enjoy his coffee in the morning, sitting with you and talking about your plans for the day and your son would sit right next to him with his plastic teacup full of juice, pretending to follow the conversation

It was one of your favorite things

Your son begged you one day to “wear red eyes like daddy”, so you brought out your makeup pallet and put just a bit of eyeshadow on his creases and his tiny gasp when he looked into the mirror had your heart melting

That night when Michael came home, he burst into laughter and admiration for his son, picking him up off the ground and swinging him around to place a big kiss on his cheek

“You know I love you so so so much, bubba?”

“Of course, daddy! I love you, too!!” he’d reply, hugging Michael with all his might

Michael was so content and happy with his life, he never imagined he could have it this good

It was about a year after you had your girl, that to your surprise, you found out you were pregnant again

When you came to Michael, he sat on the edge of your bed and looked at you with wide eyes and calmly asked, “Are you sure, love?”

“Yes, I’m sure…”

He sighed happily, and smiled up at you, getting off the bed and making his way over to wrap his strong arms around your waist

“Are you ready to do this again, baby?” he asked, and you could feel his chest move as he chuckled

You leaned back and looked into his eyes, where you found love and light, “As long as you’re by my side, I’m ready for anything”

“Alright, but are you going to eat peanut butter all the time and have sex with me eight times a day again?” he quipped back, smirking down at you

Your third pregnancy was a lot easier compared to your first two

You felt relatively normal and Michael was grateful because he had a lot on his plate with work and his two babies and he couldn’t afford to completely lose you too

You helped out with as much as you could, sometimes a little too much, which worried Michael a bit

He’d constantly insist that you go lay down and rest whenever he could sense that you were pushing yourself too hard

But you were stubborn and sometimes he had to (gently!) lift you up and carry you to bed, forcing you to relax, reassuring you that he would take care of dinner or put the little ones to sleep or whatever it was that you were convinced you could do

He’d lay in bed with you at night, gently stroking your stomach and wondering how he got so lucky

You ended up going into labor a few weeks early, nothing too bad, but still enough to make Michael worry

You gave birth to another baby girl

When she was born, she cried and cried and it broke Michael’s heart to see his little one so upset, with absolutely nothing he could do to help her

The four of you adjusted to the new addition quite well

Nights were rough however, with your new baby girl insisting on screaming and crying all night long, it was hard to sleep for more than an hour at a time

You and Michael grew so delirious with lack of sleep that it was almost humorous to the both of you

You actually found Michael asleep in your baby girl’s crib one night, holding her close to his chest

“Why is she so upset?” your son would ask one day, covering his ears from her cries

“She’s just little and adjusting to the new world, bub” Michael would reply

But you both found out soon enough that your little girl was special

She had abilities just like her daddy, it seemed

One day she disappeared right from her carrier and you screamed in horror

You didn’t know where she went or what happened and Michael ran into the room to see what was going on

“She’s gone! She’s GONE! I don’t know where she went,” you sobbed, running around looking for her

You were thinking you were the world’s worst mother, taking your eyes off of her for a second too long letting her escape

You then heard your son’s voice, “Moooooom, why is Y/D/N in the living room?”

You and Michael ran in and gave each other a confused and worried look

You quickly found out that she had used transmutation once she saw that you had brought out the mashed bananas, her least favorite food

She was quite the gifted baby

And this both amazed and worried you and Michael

Michael immediately put a block on some of her powers just so that she wouldn’t go missing or put her or any others in harm

Other than the transmutation incident, life for the Langdon family was good

I mean, Michael had the sanctuary to run and you both had three little ones to take care of so you were obviously busy and stressed at times, but you both still considered this life an amazing one

Your kids eventually started to grow up and that was simultaneously exciting and depressing

Michael took it the hardest, he’d cry into your chest some nights about how “they’re getting so big and one day they’re going to leave us”

Your kids could hear noises coming from your room so they went to investigate and they found both of their parents crying and holding each other in bed

Your youngest girl, who was now 5, ran to you and put herself right in between her parents and shouted, “Stop crying!!! Mommy and daddy shouldn’t cry”

“You’re just getting so big, what happened to my little babies?” you frowned, cupping her cheek

“Mommy, I’m right here,” she said in an obvious, matter-of-fact tone, to which you laughed

You looked at your eldest son, who was now 10, roll his eyes and snicker at the emotional state of his parents, which caused Michael to get out of bed

He picked him up and threw him over his shoulders as your two girls snuggled into you on each side

“What’s so funny, huh?” Michael shouted over his son’s screams and laughter

It was these little moments together that made life perfect for you

Y’all were literally the cutest and most loving family

Family movie night? Every Saturday and you’d get all nice and cozy with Michael and your little ones and watch which ever movie was picked

Family dinners? Every night. You and Michael made sure to have some time every day that you could all sit down together and share each other’s company

You and Michael were also very honest and loving parents

You both decided to be as truthful and sincere with your kids from day one, letting them know that there was nothing you’d hide from them and that they should always feel safe to come to you two about anything

Were you guys super strict? Not necessarily. Neither of you didn’t want to create a negative environment for your kids and they were all relatively well behaved

Michael almost never lost his cool, except for the occasional time when somebody gave you attitude or said something rude

“You never, ever talk to your mother like that again. Do you hear me?” His kids would stare back with wide eyes, gulping at the seriousness in his voice

(Your sex life was as great as ever too, okay let’s be real)

Especially after you’d hear his Serious and Strict Dad Voice™, your legs would kind of just automatically open up for him

Sex every night after everyone was asleep was a must

Your stress and worries about the day would melt away once you were in each other’s arms

Quickies were also definitely a thing, obviously, with your busy schedules

The kids are watching a movie and it’s over in 20 minutes? You bet you guys are in your room going at it

Michael’s in his office working and your kids are in their rooms? You sneak in and have some fun with him

(Mornings would usually begin with either Michael between your legs or you between his, just saying)

You were both still in love and as crazy about each other as ever

And your kids saw the love you had for each other every day

They idolized your relationship and were happy to see that their mommy and daddy loved each other so much

Even if it did embarrass them at times

“Dad, I can see you grabbing mom’s butt. Please, STOP”, your son would whine which caused you and Michael to laugh

“Mom, you already kissed dad 17 times today and it’s only 9:30 in the morning, why are you like this…” your middle daughter would groan and you’d act shocked, making your way over to Michael and placing another kiss on his smirking lips

“18 now”, she’d roll her eyes

Life was good and you couldn’t complain

Your family was so sweet and close with one another, it made you and Michael proud that you had created that with each other

This kind of connection and love was something you and Michael had both dreamed about growing up and now you both had that with your three little ones

The love you all shared would last always and forever

[tactyl-ymon]

DnD session recap - Hearts and horizons

IT’S TIME TO D-D-D-D DND. Two sessions worth because the world is falling apart and I’d forgotten how to word for the last 3 months. Slight housekeeping thing, We’re down a wizard for the foreseeable future and one of the rogues is teleconferencing in for a bit because of personal stuff. I feel the need to tell everyone that between the 3 IT/networking admins in the group, it took us several hours to remember wired internet was more stable than wifi. Shame us. Shame us so it won’t happen again.

With that all out of the way, let’s get to it.

We left off in the aftermath of an emotional bombshell between Emmi and our sorcerer npc patron, Core with Emmi asking how long Core knew her mother was Sharona, one of current ruling council members. Silence hung in the air between them and with the emotional depth of a spoon Core silently take a step backwards, closes the door between him and Emmi and leaves the keep. With no additional information gathered, Emmi returns to whatever drink remains in her room for the night.

Early the next morning, Tornur and Veiraen return around the same time, Veiraen with his self inflicted chest wound and Tornur with healers kits for the group to counter Eridol’s complete failure to react and heal Veiraen after Septima went ape. With the group reunited we receive an urgent message from Core to meet him at the slyph tower, something bad happened. So everyone gears up in relative silence and makes their way to the giant tower outside principium that supposedly links the prison bubble we’re in to the rest of the outside world to find Core and the massive door to the tower having been cut to shreds from the outside. The sylph either unable or unwilling to tell them if anyone had come through recently asks if they would like to travel. Septima steps forward and answers that yes they would and that the thrum of magic pulling him would be closest to a place called the Jaunted Pillars, the sylph explains in their round about way that payment is required to travel, those touched by magic will find it easier but if a sufficiently powerful spell is cast anyone could technically make the trip. Between Septimas eagerness to find whatever missing piece is calling to him, Eridols need to beat something up and Tornur’s general badassary spells are cast on everyone unable to do it themselves and one by one they throw themselves down the slyph’s well with their destination in mind and after a completely innocent description about bodies joining as one and rapturous bliss and the vague feeling of drowning everyone drags their way out of the weird person shaped stargate and into what would have at one time been an exact copy of the tower they were just in … if it weren’t for the pungent and weird spongey material making up the walls that disappeared into the darkness above them.

While Emmi takes one look at the door and decides nobody has time for that, she splits off and starts climbing to try and find a window or hatch in the roof, she climbed hundreds of feet before finding a small ledge and anchoring a rope to it before letting everyone know. Meanwhile down in the peanut gallery we had decided to move on from ripping and tearing at the weird mushroom flesh and moved straight to trying to burn a hole through. As Whisky moves forward into the paltry hole we’d made so far and breaks into a coughing fit due to the noxious smoke being given off by the burning flesh, she falls to the floor screaming and convulsing. Tornur and Septima begin using their various magics to remove the smoke and Eridol rushes in without a thought to get Whisky out of the smoke. Using his last bit of strength before also succumbing to the smoke to throw Whisky out of the hole to an awaiting Veiraen. While Whisky froze and saw terrors, Eridol giddily laughed and began scooting around like an excitable child or a dog with worms. With all this going on the ground, nobody paid attention to the thick noxious cloud wisping its way up towards the roof and towards an unsuspecting Emmi clinging to a wall several hundred feet up. With a brief coughing fit and an unfortunate locking of the joints she falls. Unable to call for help or try to move, the seconds stretch and warp from the mushroom fog in her brain and gravity does its job. 100 feet, 200 feet, she falls 350 feet before Veiraen notices a glint of metal he recognizes moving far too fast for comfort and instinctively casts featherfall. Emmi slows immediately to a crawl, coming to a distinctly non violent meeting with the ground.

With two members of the group dealing with full body lockjaw and one scooting around on his shield like a tiny angry roomba, the still thinking members of the group decide to maybe stop burning through the fungus and give Emmi’s whole roof hatch plan a go after everyones able to move. About an hour later, the relative silence of the room is broken by 3 distinct groans and strings of words best not repeated as Whisky, Emmi and Eridol come out of their respective trances, all varying degrees of sore and weirdly less anxious than before huffing fantasy paint thinner. We all make our way up the inside of what was once a nice looking tower and up through a narrow bramble path towards the now blackened sky and clamber out into a clear, open space made up of dead trees and after a brief sigh of relief from leaving mushroom city, people start noticing things. Pieces of fragile silver looking material, larger than any of the party litter the dead branches and as everyone slowly takes in their surroundings and things click together, one by one they all silently turn towards the centre of the nest and see the gigantic unhatched egg and before anyone can yell to scatter an impossibly large bird the colour or a starlit night crashes into the nest, knocking Eridol unconscious with the blow. With the cleric down and a very large and territorial night roc to deal with, the group splits. Septima, Whisky and Tornur run interference while the rogues and the bird play a nice game of keep away with the sometimes near corpse of the tiny healer, now with authentic battle damage.

What little dips into consciousness Eridol did experience were spent trying to keep the Roc’s attention on himself with large damaging spells and heals as required for the others. With it’s attention divided, Whisky takes the initiative to stun the bird while Septima lashes out with vines from the tree to ground the bird in place. While the rest of the group takes to the sides of the nest to flee, Eridol bears down on the bird with quite a lot of misplaced fury. Both beaten and bloody and extremely near death, the bird begins scrambling back. Taking what would have been it’s precious last seconds of life to try and hide the unbroken egg in the centre of the nest. Seeing the mother try to protect its young snaps Eridol out of his rage and with shame thinking about what he almost did, he heals the bird slightly before leaving. In the time left on Septimas sealing spell. The group silently makes their way to a cramped little hole in the trunk of one of the large perimeter trees, as far as their weary legs will take them from the nest.

Not wanting to waste the moment and wanting to get this over with before the post fight shakes sets in, Eridol calls over to Veiraen to discuss where they stand. With the group tending to their wounds in the background and the oppressive silence of the forest around them, Eridol begins by thanking the drow for keeping him alive in the last fight before explaining about how Veiraen’s done things he can’t forgive. Since they’ve known each other, Veiraen has only ever acted in his own interests, often at the expense of others. The final straws being setting Eridol on fire while he was trying to cope with the latest death he hadn’t been able to stop and Veiraen running off to the forests to try and deal with his psychosis and endanger Septima and a new ally rather than ask the group for help. Emotionally, Eridol mentions that he will still try to keep Veiraen alive like everyone expects him to, but he doesn’t have to like the rogue or forgive him to do that. As far as Eridol is concerned, Veiraen is just part of a job now. The rogue quietly nods before heading back to the group, leaving the cleric to his attempts to contact the groups sorcerer patron as well as sending an apology to the roc for entering its home and endangering its as yet unborn child. If the roc ever needs assistance, it can find them.

With everyone asleep and Septima taking his usual spot of standing awkwardly over someone for the night like an overprotective gargoyle, Eridol takes a mostly uneventful first watch until Tornur gets up and mentions needing to go take care of something and Eridol still being a bit mortally wounded and vaguely concussed just groggily waves at him and slurs something about not taking too long. It’s maybe 30 minutes and two unanswered calls later when Eridol starts getting suspicious that it shouldn’t take this long to go to the bathroom and goes to boot up Septima to help find the wizzing wizard. Knowing how vast the forest is, Septima animorphs into a direwolf to track by scent and with his weary gnome jockey aboard they take off into the night hot on the trail of unwashed dwarf. After about 10 minutes the trail begins to go cold and they come across a piece of parchment stuck to a tree with “This one has been called. I’m sorry” written in a familiar script with the recently purchased bracers of defence and one of the necklaces the group uses to communicate. The only gift not returned was the crossbow Eridol gave Tornur which is brought up sulkily before the duo return to the group. Septima mentions Eridol should get some sleep as he returns to his weird t-posing gargoyles perch over whichever party member will get the biggest reaction upon waking up. While the party slept the remainder of the night away, the last traces of magic surrounding Whisky, the tiny feline monk disappear and she begins to grow to her proper tabaxi form in her sleep. Thrashing around silently like a horror movie creature, flesh contorting and stretching until her previously 2 foot tall frame maxing out the height slider just under 7 feet and she returns to peaceful sleep, at some point wrapping Eridol in her new lengthy tai as Septima passively watched the whole thing instead of intervening or waking the group because it was funnier to not get involved and he is seemingly powered by low level chaos.

Night turns to day and as is tradition and the silence is broken by a mixture of confused screaming and levels of dead eyed resignation normally only felt by retail workers at the nba all star who replaced the tiny monk overnight. The shouting only got worse once it was revealed that Tornur was gone, seemingly summoned by an unknown entity which will definitely never come up in the future. With no further surprises, the group packs up their camp and a whimsical “Follow your heart” sequence begins except its through the bad type of fairytale forest and we’re following the urges of a chaotic warforged with severe memory corruption. Several hours of trekking pass as the forest thins out and becomes less “evil” before we find a worn path through the forest which we begin to follow, still being guided by septima towards his missing piece until we see two figures off in the distance. After hastily diving into the shrubs to not be seen a plan is devised, one of the group is to get out on the path and walk towards the pair to see if they’re friendly while the others creep through the brush to jump in if required. Now obviously it has to be someone who looks the most harmless and disarming at which point everyone just turns and looks at the sometimes gremlin of a cleric and with a sigh, Eridol wanders back out to the path and begins walking as non threateningly towards what we now know are a human and a warforged. After about a minute of walking, the human sees Eridol and confusedly grabs some binoculars to confirm what he sees before promptly yelling and throwing up before both him and the warforged point their spears towards the now halted gnome who puts his hands up and begins yelling at the pair about being a bit lost and looking for somewhere to stay. 

Eridol carefully proceeding towards the pair trying to be as disarming as his crippling mental issues allow the human gets a look of recognition over his face. Proclaiming that he knows who the tiny cleric is and it’d been months since the gnome had come through on his religious quest. As Eridol tries to hide his sheer panic behind pleasantries about how he unfortunately doesn’t remember the hunter at the moment and that maybe they should introduce themselves. The construct just continues scanning the horizon but the human introduces himself as Jeremiah, current perimeter guard for the village of kincaid and that this is way above his paygrade so Eridol needs to come with him to see the village leader. Sensing a complete lack of hostility Eridol agrees, but first asks Jeremiah to not freak out over something real quick as he calls out to the rest of the party who were hidden in the undergrowth several feet away.

After the guard stifles a definitely manly shriek, his face gives way to recognition and curiosity as he seems to remember Veiraen and Whisky and then to pale reverence as he sees Septima. Before stuttering that they definitely need to inform the village leader about the group. The group and their new guide wind through the forest until they come across a village built in a clearing, cozy buildings and vegetable plots intermingle throughout the town as humans and half elves go about their business. An impossibly tall tree waving limply in the background, bands of decay and discolour damaging an otherwise pristine forest. Jeremiah leads Septima and by extension everyone else to the local tavern before excusing himself momentarily as he runs off and returns with an older looking half elven woman who exudes druidic power and introduces herself as Liana Cypher, current leader of Kincaid village and currently very confused as to how we’re all here, especially Septima because he left through to the sanctuary over a century ago and that should have been a one way trip to safety. If septima was capable of showing emotion he would have assuredly been annoyed as he matter of factly informed the druidic leader that where they had come from was no sanctuary, but rather a prison that we had escaped from through the magical equivalent of a secret tunnel and that Septima was being pulled somewhere close by whatever approximates a gut feeling in a magically animated mannequin. This gets Liana’s attention and she asks if Septima would like to talk in private while the rest of the group got settled in the few rooms available in the inn. Eridol spends his time deep in prayer frustratedly asking for guidance and receiving nothing. Veiraen slowly meditating through a song on his violin about the connection he had with whatever was inhabiting his prior sword. As the song reaches its peak he sees the briefest echo of the spirit of Cricket smiling at him before it fades away. While the angsty teens do their thing, Whisky and Emmi sample the local wines and ales … for research purposes, obviously.

Septima and Liana make their way through the remainder of the town towards the great deku tree, Liana going through how for the last few hundred years people have been drawn to the tree and it was supposed to lead to a safe haven but since Septima and his cohorts had gone through over a century ago, the tree and its surroundings had slowly started showing signs of disease that the abilities of the town could only slow but not cure, almost like there was something within the tree itself leeching the life out of the forest. As they reach the base of the great dying tree, the reverberations within Septimas’ soul seem to harmonise with ... something. Whatever he has being pushed towards is so close, almost close enough to reach out and touch, but as his hand grazes over the tree it can only feel the barest traces of life travelling through what he knows should be a vibrant spectacle of life. Liana asks if Septima would need to travel again like last time and is met with a brief murmur of agreement as he contemplates what needs to happen. The pair begin their short journey back to the tavern, with Liana reminiscing about the first time Septima had come through on the way there before bidding the group goodnight and leaving Septima to wrangle several drunk/passed out teammates which are promptly ushered/thrown into their respective rooms for the night. Come morning and septima lays out the plan, we need to travel into the great tree but make sure not to complete the journey to find what he needs and to help save Ostaria from the whole “reality shattering and destroying everyone” thing we had been sent to fix. With everyone in agreement, a message is sent and Tacty’l Ymon soon find themselves at the base of a once great tree alongside Liana who mentions that to find what they seek, they will need to trek to the top of the canopy and jump. Which is met with varying degrees of enthusiasm from the group. They travel for the better part of 30 minutes up the side of the tree until they reach the near bare canopy and look down a familiar well shaped tunnel through the innards of the tree ending far deeper than the trunk or physics would allow. Eridol feels his thread of divinity thrum slightly and he makes a silent prayer before imparting a mote of protection onto Septima. Liana asks if the group is ready and begins the ritual required to open the path between planes. With a whisper she proclaims “Fall through the leaves like sunlight and be reborn in the roots” and runs a dagger up her forearm, silver liquid spilling out and falling down the trunk in a solid sheet before ushering the group to jump into the definitely real portal that’s down there in the dark. One by one they fall through the darkness for what feels like hours before taking what feels like a hard bend and stumbling out in a heap into an endless flat expanse with no visible source of light. Withered near identical trees waving slightly despite the lack of a breeze spot the otherwise empty landscape as the Septima feels a strong tug and begins moving towards the horizon with the group silently in tow. Time seemed to stretch and contract around them, making it impossible to get a bearing on how long they marched past the near identical trees after what seemed like weeks or hours a blip on the horizon appears and grows into a seemingly dead and petrified version of the tree they had fallen through to get here. A malformed knot of flesh and stone rings the considerable tree like a cancerous growth. Shifting and unfurling as we approach. Before us stands a mostly decayed large red dragon, what little flesh remains is mottled with patches of stone and petrified wood, fusing it to the base of the tree and keeping the dragon in place. It’s cold undead eyes pass over the group, lingering on everyone but Emmi before resting onto Septima, both feeling the pulsing connection that ties them together, a piece of Septimas essence hidden deep within the dragon. A booming voice pierces the stillness of the place. The dragon introduces itself as Nerglyth and it would like to be free. We all learn that several hundred years ago it was held here by Septima, Fulgür and Fafnir and that over time the dragon had found itself being used as energy for the tree, until the dragon found that could go both ways and began leeching energy out of the tree and memories of those who had travelled through it. Nerglyths voice was all encompassing as it tried to goad Septima into finishing what he started before turning to smile at Eridol and ask if he was here to make another sacrifice and we were offered a choice, complete the ritual it needed to leave and we can have the piece of Septimas soul keeping it tethered here. It just needs two more lives, paltry in the grand scheme of things really. The semi petrified red dragon began to shift and extend itself away from the tree which in addition to proving how utterly gigantic it was also allowed a low hanging branch to come into view of the group. The branch contained 2 figures hanging from nooses along the branch, one almost ethereal and one fully visible. Free hanging nooses are visible throughout the rest of the tree. Veiraen and Emmi both recognised the bodies at the same time as the children taken to be sacrificed by the mistress and her makeshift coven as Eridol becomes transfixed by the girl swinging in the noose. The girl he had to use to complete part of the ritual leading to a possible escape to the material plane. Regret and anger and shame tunnel his vision until all he can see is the girl. Both he and Septima put themselves forward as sacrifices, each wanting this to be over and not willing to let someone innocent take their place. As they wordlessly begin their walk towards the dragon, Eridol falters slightly. A small surge of recognition making him take stock of the situation they’re in. Whatever this creature is, it is definitely undead and extremely powerful. For an abomination to be this smart isn’t unheard of, but letting it loose into the world is to be avoided no matter what. Eridol stops and says as much to the group, much to the disappointment and anger of the dragon. Over Nerglyth’s snarls and insults, Eridol goes to turn back to the group asking Septima to come with them, there has to be another way to fix this and they know what they’re up against. Septima continued forward towards the behemoth undead figure until they are feet apart and with a shout of “Get the heart!” begins shifting into something more wild, but Nerglyth as smart as he is saw the betrayal coming and a wave of necrotic ice washes over the druid and most of the party in an instant. The ground erupting into slippery jagged shards impeding all but Whisky from moving freely and with a roar the fight for our little piece of reality begins. Whisky and Emmi take up the offensive as Septima begins searching for what brought us all here. Both Veiraen and Eridol have major issues with the terrain, either from the rancid icy breath or draconic shouts that tore at the ground beneath them, leaving them buried up to the neck. As Veiraen and Eridol worm their way to freedom, Septima gets a lock on his missing piece from deep within the dragon and shifts into a mouse to more easily search the colossal moving carcass. The group continues their assault to distract the dragon with Emmi leaving wounds that would gravely injure other foes and the others doing what they do best, annoy anything larger than themselves. Septimouse slowly creeps through the putrid organs, careful to not draw attention to themself until they finds a small pulsing orb and it’s at this exact moment the dragon notices a missing warforged and the group watches in terror as it unleashes a torrent of gross mourning breath into its own ribcage, slamming into Septima with enough force to revert from his mouse form and knock the druidic construct unconscious. The spark of divine protection doing its job and bringing him back from the brink of death, but it’s too late, the stone binding Nerglyth to the tree snaps and sloughs off its form. A life has been given as required and freedom is so close. A surge of necrotic energy lashes in towards the barely conscious druid, leeching what remaining energy the druid had. WIth the last few moments before fading into unconsciousness, Septima reaches out for his missing essence, hands grasping at the shard inches away from his fingers and he sees a large draconic claw reach in and pluck it away. The group watches in awe as the dragon begins limping back towards the tree that held it for so long, Emmi Veiraen and Whisky trying to slow it down and inflict as much damage as possible, while a panicked Eridol reaches around his holy symbol and plucks part of his own essence, forcing it unceremoniously through a hole in the dragons chest and into the still twitching body of Septima. The drid makes a hasty exit through one of the freshly gaping wounds left by the group or the dragon itself and can only watch as Nerglyth presses the shard of Septimas essence up to the trunk of the tree and with an earth shattering kaboom a tear in space forms within the trunk. Booming laughter echoes through the landscape and in an instant Nerglyth is gone. The pressure of the tear grows stronger and stronger as this small pocket of reality collapses in on itself. Septima instantly shoots out a wall of vines to try and stop everyone from being sucked in, but the pull is too strong as both he and Veiraen tumble along the ground and tree towards the rip in reality. Knowing how close the dragon was to redeath, Veiraen desperately throws his daggers through the void as both he and Septima catch themselves feet from the opening. Septima reaches out for the sliver of his soul that had trapped Nerglyth here as a large coil of rope rushes past them before snapping taut. Eridol, Whisky and Emmi acting as anchors from their restrained spot on the ground giving them something to climb away from the yawning hellmouth. The pull of the hole only gets stronger as they begin making their way back up the rope and Septima dislodges his fragment from the tree. What little is left of this sparse landscape continues to fold in on itself as time bungee corded around as Septima becomes more self absorbed than normal and for the first time in centuries is whole again. He opens his hand and another smaller portal opens near everyone and they all tumble through at the last possible second for dramatic tension. The silent blank reality pocket is replaced in an instant with the sound of waves lapping on a shore. As one, they look out over the ocean in front of them and see a clear division of sea and air. A horizon that wasn’t there the last time they stood on the shores of Ostaria. Eridol excitedly contacts Core to tell him that they did it, they fixed everything and is met with incredulous joy from their sorcerer companion. The walls surrounding Ostaria had been gone for over a month, Core had been trying to contact us every day since trying to get an update. Tacty’l Ymon stands silently on the beach as Core congratulates them. They had done it. Hundreds of thousands of lives got to continue without the immediate threat of reality collapsing around them. We end the session with Eridol and Septima falling over laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation with the remainder of the group following suit shortly after.

[yukheii]

first loves

× genre and warnings :: husband!yoongi + wife!reader, married au, parents au, fluff, mentions of min holly [gif cr.]

× notes :: refer to this post to read more abt min yeona (my oc mini min); this was a combination of two requests that were originally for reactions/scenarios, but i thought it worked better like this

× précis :: five times min yoongi learns to fall in lover all over again

i. first messes

Yoongi should have known better, but in his defense, he didn’t think anything this catastrophic could have happened in the two minutes he had slipped away to the bathroom.

But as he stands in the doorway leading to the kitchen, he finds at least thirteen things wrong with the picture in front of him; at least ten of which could have been prevented if he could hold his bladder better.

“Baby girl,” he starts slowly, stepping over a puddle of—is that an egg? “What happened?”

The four-year-old sits on the tiled floor, covered head to toe in a mixture of strawberries, bananas, yogurt, flour, and orange juice, with something with an uncomfortable, sticky-looking texture stuck between her fingers. Yeona points to the counter top and Yoongi turns to find the root, or at least one of the roots of the many issues: an uncovered blender and open carton of eggs.

He blinks before turning back to the child on the ground. She looks down at the messy floor—and Yoongi knows that pout like the back of his hand.

He sighs, crouching down to her level and pushing her dirty hair out of her face, “It’s okay, baby, it was an honest mistake.”

But her disappointed resolve doesn’t fade away at her father’s words, “I messed up mama’s breakfast.”

“Hey, no you didn’t,” he says, encouraging her to stand to her feet, “Do you know how many times your Uncle Jimin and Taehyung have done this before?”

That gets her laugh, the image of her uncles fumbling around a kitchen amusing. “Uncle Chim is really clumsy, dad.”

“He sure is,” Yoongi agrees, “It’s my fault, too, baby. I should have been there to help you.”

“No! You didn’t do anything wrong, daddy!” She exclaims, dark eyes going wide at Yoongi’s self-accusation.

“How about this then: I won’t blame myself if you won’t,” Yoongi extends a pinky finger, “Deal?”

Missing teeth and gums beam at him as a small pinky is linked with his. Yoongi nods, “Come on, let’s get you and the kitchen cleaned up before mom gets home, yeah?”

ii. first kisses

Yoongi would never admit it, but Yeona definitely got her possessive side from him. She was a carbon copy of her father when tired; shamelessly clingy and in need of your undivided care. Yoongi usually relished in the unabashed attention from his daughter, except when she used her pre-napping phase to stake her claim over you. 

He comes home from work to find you and a six-month-old Yeona laying on the couch, and her new favorite Disney movie on the month on the television. Yoongi leans downwards to give you a kiss, but is instead met with a small, chubby hand to his lips.

He blinks his eyes open, stunned to see that his kiss was intercepted by none other than his own daughter. And that you had the audacity to find it funny.

“Oh?” He raises a dark eyebrow before tugging his lips into a smirk. He leans past her barrier, kissing your cheek with a sorry-not-sorry look in his eyes.

And Yeona goes ballistic. Her nose scrunches in an all too familiar manner, bottom lip protruding noticeably and muffled growls leaving her mouth.

She shimmies her way up your chest, grabs your face between tiny fingers, and presses a wet kiss just below your bottom lip.

Yoongi laughs wholeheartedly, but he has to hand it to her when she mimics his glare: all’s fair in love and war.

iii. first unscheduled checkup

“Okay, hyung, don’t freak out, but me and Namjoon are at the hospital with Yeona right now—don’t freak out—because there was a little incident—don’t freak out—but she’s gonna be okay, so don’t freak—”

“Tell me not to freak out one more fucking time and I’ll castrate you with my own two hands, Hoseok.”

“So you’re mad. Understandable,” Hoseok says, wincing away from the phone when Yoongi growls in response.

“You have five seconds to tell me what you two idiots did to my daughter and then you better fucking hope she’s okay, or I’ll have your heads.”

Hoseok eyes Namjoon with his bottom lip between his teeth. They were so screwed. “Funny story, actually, so, we think Yeona might be allergic to nuts.”

“Might be?”

“Yeah, so—um, actually, I’m going to let Namjoon, explain,” Hoseok hurries, handing the phone to Namjoon.

He tries to reject, but sighs when the device is shoved into his hands. Reluctantly, he brings it to his ear, taking a deep breath, but Yoongi speaks before he can, “Save it. Just text me the name of the hospital and pray I don’t murder you when I get there.” 

Twenty minutes and a few run red lights later, Yoongi is bursting through the doors to the pediatric floor. He doesn’t care about the old woman at reception yelling about no running in the halls, or the other parents eyeing him for marching past the waiting room like he owned the place. His baby was in there somewhere and he was going to get to her. 

“Yeo—oh, my baby,” Yoongi coos, frantic as he comes to the side of the hospital bed, stroking the girl’s face. Angry red bumps litter her neck, her cheeks are puffier than usual, and her mouth looks irritated, but Yoongi is relieved. She’s okay, his baby girl is okay. 

“I’m fine, daddy,” she smiles with swollen lips, “Uncle Hoseokie ran with me all the way here when I started itchin’.”

“I know baby, daddy was just worried about you,” Yoongi nods, cradling her head with tears threatening to fall, “How do feel? Does anything hurt? Is your throat okay, love?”

She nods, cubby cheeks lifted as she beams and tells him she’s okay, “They gave me a shot though, but I was a big girl and I didn’t cry at all! Uncle Namjoonie was there, he saw!”

Yoongi smiles back and kisses her head, “My brave little girl.” 

He’d forgotten that Hoseok and Namjoon were there until he hears an awkward cough from the corner of the room. “We’re sorry, we didn’t know,” Hoseok apologies, “And when she started coughing and said she couldn’t breathe we didn’t know what was wrong, and I swear I ran here as fast as I could to—”

Yoongi sighs, “It’s fine, Hoseok, I didn’t know either. We’ve had peanuts around the house forever and she’s never reacted to it.”

“The doctor said she’s allergic to tree nuts,” Namjoon speaks, “We gave her pistachio ice cream, that’s why she had a reaction to it.”

Yoongi nods, making a mental note to get rid of anything pistachio flavored within a mile radius of his house. Tree nuts were stupid anyway.

“They gave me this pretty bracelet, daddy, look!” Yeona interjects, flashing the sliver bracelet to signal her allergies. Yoongi smiles, “It’s beautiful, baby. I’ll get you one in every color to match all your outfits, okay?”

“Uh, hyung?” Hoseok calls, pulling Yoongi’s attention away from her, “You should probably call ____.”

Too caught up in his rush to the hospital, Yoongi hadn’t been thinking of anyone or anything besides his potentially dying daughter. His face pales three shades when he realizes he hasn’t so much as texted you to tell you that your child was currently hospitalized with a newfound allergy to tree nuts; something a mother should probably (definitely) know about. 

“Oh no,” Yoongi shakes his head, “That’s your death sentence, not mine.”

“Is mama gonna be mad?” Yeona asks, looking up at her father.

“Not at you baby,” Yoongi shakes his head, “But say a prayer for your uncles.”

iv. first time away from home

Comeback season sucks. Performing is fun, but the awards don’t make up for the constant traveling, endless recording, and repetitive interviews; and to top off the shitshow, they’re promoting in Japan for the first time in three years, which means Yoongi doesn’t get to see you or his precious daughter for almost a month.

He’s frustrated with everyone and doesn’t have it in him to be around too many people, so the second they’re finished recording for the day, he makes a beeline for his hotel room, locks the door, chucks his phone on the desk, kicks off his shoes, and plops the fuck down on the bed.

Comeback season really fucking sucks.

Everywhere he goes, he thinks of you two. From the food to the buildings, he finds something he’d think you and Yeona would like. And he thinks of how much more he’d enjoy being here if he had you two by his side.

When he’s finally started to doze off to rid himself of missing you two too much, his phone starts vibrating, multiple text messages coming to his attention. He groans, rolling over to grab the phone. It was probably the maknaes, they’d said something about wanting to go out to dinner to celebrate their latest win, but Yoongi just wanted to sleep.

He picks up his phone, thumb already hovering over the power button to turn it off, when the notifications catch his eye. It’s in fact, not the maknaes blowing up his phone, but you, instead.

His resolve washing away, he presses his thumb to the home button to unlock it and reveal the messages. When he opens them, an immediate smile tugs at his lips.

A video of you, Holly, and his baby girl, all wearing matching outfits and smiles.

“Okay, are you ready to film the video for daddy?” you say, readjusting the angle so that Yeona can be seen. She nods excitedly, petting Holly before speaking, “We hope you’re having fun, daddy! We miss you!”

Holly barks as if to say he agrees. Yoongi’s on the brink of tears.

“Good luck with promotions!” you chime in, “We love you!”

“Daddy’s in Japan, right?” Yeona asks, looking up at you. You nod and her face lights up and she takes the phone from you, holding the camera close to her face, “Oh, bring back mochi for me and Holly, daddy!”

“What’s the magic word?” you scold lightly from off-screen.

“Please bring back strawberry mochi,” she repeats, then whispers, “It’s not really for Holly, it’s secretly all for me, but don’t tell mommy. Bye!”

Yoongi chuckles as the video comes to an end, and saves it to his camera roll. He sends you back hearts before falling back on the bed with his head to a pillow, and slips into sleep with a genuine smile on his lips.

Comeback seasons sucks, but coming home to you guys is going to feel really great.

v. first steps

Yoongi is alone with her when she takes her first steps (and you’re a little pissed that you’ve missed such an occasion due to work, but are nonetheless happy and proud of your baby girl).

A soft thud grabs Yoongi’s attention, pulling him away from his morning newspaper and drawing his attention to the baby sat on the carpet a few feet in from of him. She giggles after stumbling to the ground again, all gum. Yoongi laughs with her.

She’s been determined to learn to how to walk these past few days, and while Yoongi was in full support of her efforts, he was beginning to wonder if her bottom would bruise.

The eleven month old stares at the base of her father’s leg, eyeing the brown plush Shooky next to it. She makes grabby hands and leans forward. Yoongi glances between the babe and the pillow, smiles with a raised eyebrow, and picks it up.

He waves it in his hand, and Yeona looks up at him, eyes full, dark, and determined—challenged accepted.

She shifts to all fours, pushing her body up with her stands and steadies herself on both feet. She wobbles, nearly toppling over, but manages to lift one leg in front of the other to take a small step. She wavers, left foot in front of right; she looks to her chubby feet, then the doll in her dad’s hand.

Yoongi shakes the plush again, egging her on, and with a focused nose scrunch, Yeona takes another step, and another, and another. And a few more before she becomes wobbly at his feet, and he swoops her in his arms before she hits the carpet again.

He sits her on his lap and gives her the pillow as a reward. Yoongi kisses her cheek and she seems to clap at her own accomplishment, “That’s my baby girl.”

[septic-dr-schneep]

This might be a lot to ask, but could you explain everybody's backstories. Like, the most that I know is that Dark is a combination of somebody that died + two other people. I don't really know how any of them came to be. I JUST WANNA BE ABLE TO UNDERSTAND. MY MUTUALS WHO'RE IN BOTH FANDOMS ARE FREAKING OUT EVERY TIME SOMETHING HAPPENS WITH MARK'S EGOS AND I UNDERSTAND NOTHING PLS HELP.

OH BOY. Okay, here I go. *cracks knuckles* Prepare for a huge data dump.

Darkiplier: Combination of Mayor Damien and his older sister, Celine the Seer, who dabbled in dark magic. They were killed by Celine’s ex-husband, Mark from another universe, who was possessed by a Demon living in his house. The Demon, Damien, and Celine decided to possess the body of the District Attorney (the viewer) and become Darkiplier to get revenge on the Mark we know.

Wilford Warfstache: Formerly known as the Colonel. He was in love with Celine and stole her from Mark, driving Mark to kill himself, but the Demon in the house possessed Mark and brought him back to life over and over, no matter how many times he tried to die. The Colonel killed Mark one more time, but Mark/The Demon came back again and killed Celine and Damien, the Colonel’s only friends. 

In the chaos, the Colonel accidentally shot the District Attorney. He was grieving over their body for hours and then when the DA’s body was possessed and got back up – having now become Dark – the Colonel went completely insane. He began believing that nobody could actually die. It’s just a joke, which is why Wilford kills people so flippantly. He thinks it’s all a game. 

King of the Squirrels: He is the King of the Squirrels. That’s it. He rubs peanut butter on his face for the squirrels to eat and runs wildly through the woods with his subjects. 

The Author/The Host: The Author was a sadistic man who could write anything into reality. He liked to torture his characters for the sake of a good story but two of his characters rebelled and shot him, leaving him for dead. Later on, we see the Host, a radio showman who lost his eyes, never stops bleeding and always narrates what’s happening around him in the third person. He’s also a reality warper. We imagine he used to be the Author and has expanded his powers and reinvented himself.

Dr. Iplier: A doctor with no good news to give you and a serious lack of a bedside manner! To let you know just how bad it is, he tells his patient that his girlfriend cheated on him, his dog got run over, his parents are kicking him out of the house and then, during their conversation, his parents died. His catchphrase is, fittingly, “I’m sorry…you’re dying.”

Silver Shepherd: A clumsy superhero who’s doing his best to protect the city. He has a loving relationship with his girlfriend, Roxanne, but hears a rumor that she’s cheating on him. He’s devastated, so he and his sidekick Ibis go to find out if it’s really true. In fact, the man Roxy is supposedly “cheating with” is Silver Shepherd’s secret identity self, so there’s nothing to worry about!

Googleplier: An android whose primary objective is to answer questions as quickly as possible. Secondary objective is to destroy mankind. He’s a prototype who’s meant to serve but is in fact starting to rebel against his programming. He was shipped to Mark’s friend, Matthias, and does his best to resist following Matthias’ orders. If Matthias gives him Admin permissions, he’ll be able to kill him. Later on, we see Google getting an upgrade, which allows him to clone himself with Google Green, Google Red, and Google Yellow as backup.

Bim Trimmer: A gameshow host who’s all about being classy! His gameshow helps people win their dream jobs – if they can survive the show. He’s infatuated with Matthias, though, and since Matthias is competing on the show, he rigs the game so Matthias will win. Along the way, he kills one of the other contestants and serves him to the others as meat patties. Bim may or may not be a cannibal.

Ed Edgar: Ed Ednarb Eddeth Edgar is a cowboy who owns a baby adoption agency, Ed Edgar Adoptallot’s Baby Bulk Buy. We see him in a commercial for his adoption agency, where he promotes babies of all different kinds – pocket-sized babies, android babies, babies with laser-eyes, etc. He even offers to sell his own son for the cause, but his son doesn’t sell well, so he keeps him. 

Yandereplier: A schoolboy in a skirt who’s in love with his Senpai. He’ll do anything to gain his Senpai’s love, even if it means murdering their classmates or summoning demons to get the competition out of the way. He’s very cutesy and girly – until you make him mad. Then you’re likely to be impaled on a katana. 

The Jim Twins: Reporter Jim and Cameraman Jim are reporters who covered the news story of Who Killed Markiplier. Reporter Jim is the only one who speaks, since Cameraman Jim is never seen. They are…nonsensical. They have a huge family, all of whom are named Jim, even the girls. We are Jim. They are Jim. Everyone is Jim. The twins are also demon hunters. Reporter Jim got possessed at one point during the hunt. They also have cousins, Newscaster Jim and Weatherman Jim, who can be seen on Markiplier TV.

Bingiplier: A second android who is meant to be hip with the kids and mocks Google for being the older model. He skateboards, wears sunglasses and a tank top, and tries to be cool. Google despises him. The more Bing mocks him, the more Google hates him, until Google gangs up on him with his clones (see above). Bing panics and tries to create his own to help him, but can only manage one small clone (Tiny Bing). We don’t know if they survived or not.

Derek Derekson: A self-centered guy who promotes Markiplier merch. He doesn’t treat his son very well.

Eric Derekson: Derek’s last surviving son; he and his brothers got into a bus accident and he was the only survivor. He’s a double amputee below the knees, he has severe anxiety, and all he wants is to make his father proud. It isn’t easy.

Yancy: The leader of a prison gang who has a passion for singing and boxing. He murdered his parents but since regrets his actions and intends to live out his full sentence, even if he already knows all the routes to escape and could get out on good behavior. After helping the viewer escape the prison, in the good ending, he encourages them to come back and visit him every third Sunday.

Illinois: An adventurer, not to be confused with Indiana, who brings the viewer along on his quest to return an enchanted monkey idol to its rightful place in its cave. He’s flirtatious and suave and breezes his way through traps, though unfortunately his past assistants couldn’t keep up and were lost in various accidents. In the good ending, he makes the viewer rich, and there’s a possibility that they can join him on his next adventure.

Captain Magnum: A sea captain who comes to adopt the viewer as a part of his crew and perhaps even considers them his child. He is also a double amputee and has logs as prosthetic legs; he’s very tall. In the good ending, they help him discover that true treasure isn’t about the gold but the friendships and family bonds they find along the way. They stay with him and the crew and live happily ever after, sailing and swashbuckling.

[annimalinthenight]

Lunar New Year, North East China, 1994-2012

When it’s close to Lunar New Years. This is what people did when I was a child. The Lunar New Year is the biggest holiday in China, which is on a different solar calendar day every year. It originally celebrated the year that had passed by and also hopes for a bountiful and great year ahead. 

All the families would buy lots of red, and gold decorations. Such as new calendars to hang up and “Fu” (not jokin, it means everything good but in 1 character) posters, new sets of Chinese poem called Duilian- a set of 3 pieces made out of red paper with gold blessings on them. You glue them to the left, right sides and above of the door of your house or apartment, the last short one goes to the top of the door. They rhyme. You read the first one on the left side of the door first, then right, then the top piece last to tie everything together and it should leave you feeling satisfied and joyful for the new year. You’d buy “new year products” or start making them way early from like in the fall. Sauerkraut, pickled duck eggs, vegetables, as well as dried fruits and vegetables bc that’s how it be in the cold and dry north. If you can’t make it because you are young and inexperienced then you would just buy those in supermarkets. Buy wall stickers of Chinese folk religion, buy gifts for parents, buy gifts for your superiors whether you have teachers or bosses you want to kiss the asses of or just to have a good relationship with. Usually expensive tea, alcohol or cigarettes. Buy red envelopes for kids in the family, and put 100 yuan in each. Families would travel to rural areas where they had firework markets. I was lucky and got to go with my dad almost every year since he had a car and it didn’t take as long to get there if people rode buses. They had about 100- 150 different vendors selling fireworks of all sorts. Large ones that make red/green/gold/blue perfect spheres of dots of light or weeping willow-like gold sparks of light as the particles fell, smaller ones that made loud noises and then split into 3-5 colored lights. Sparklers on sticks that had different colors as they burn and you can wave them around like an idiot as adults took pictures of you. Ones that are a big block that just made whistles as they run up the darkened sky so fast and made tiny lights and a small explosion in the sky quickly one after another. There are the quiet cone ones you set on the ground that made peacock tail- like patterns but not only with green, blue but also in silver and gold. There are the ones you smash in the ground or hard surfaces and make them explode or mess with people. Finally, there are the fucking dynamites that’s are loud and powerful as fuck. Only stupid people set those off as a sign of masculinity and only truly desperate men set them off while holding one and lose their thumb bc of it.  Buy new year snacks such as salty peanuts, tangerines, candies, sunflower seeds for family gathering and watching the national new year broadcast on New Year’s Eve with shows of all kinds, comedy, magic, skits, dancing, singing, and other stuff. My Provence was famous for our dancers and it’s probably because it’s so cold that our girls have higher pain tolerance. 

The women would make dumplings with pork with celery stuffing or pork and sauerkraut or shrimp and chives while they socialize. They usually put a coin inside a few random dumplings to encourage people to eat slowly bc it’s good for you and for fun because whoever got the coin will have great luck with money that year. The men would eat, gamble and drink, the women would join them sometimes if they are done with cooking or waiting for something to be ready in the kitchen. We’d have altars for our ancestors with a pretty bowl of rice inside and thick incense sticks in them. The smell was never as strong as the ones in the US, but I liked it since it was soothing and not overwhelming. There would maybe be pictures of the ancestors. We would put fruits in front of the altar as well as offerings since we wish that they could also be with us to celebrate. 

Kids will get asked by random relatives that they literally have seen twice ever “aww look at how big you’ve grown! Did you miss/remember me?!” Smart kids will say ye! To get more red pockets from them but I was not that smart and was always shy and awkward and said no all the time.  My cousins and I would eat snacks like shrimp chips and potato chips while we reenact scenes from anime or my oldest cousin’s MMORPG video games. We sometimes got to play cards too with the adults without involving money. I was always the best at playing cards out of the 3 kids on my mom’s  side because I was quiet and had a good poker face. Then when it’s later at night, we would go out into the snow and set off the fireworks. About 1k yuan of it. Like I said I was lucky since dad made enough for us to be upper middle class and he was never shy about having fun. Kids would get to hold on to incense to light the fireworks. That’s pretty much New Year’s Eve/New Year for me when I was a kid :)

[letithappeneverafter]

Came across Nicks essay about living in a far-away country and what it means to be a creative human at the arse-end of the world. This comes from a past edition of Griffith Review which is a pretty impressive literary essay magazine. Full of cultural and thought-provoking stuff. Go Nick. I probably shouldn’t just copy’n’paste but I did borrow it from Brisbane library to read in the flesh. Just wanted to share with all you Tame Impala and POND fans.

Creative Darwinism by Nick Allbrook

- This is my city and I’m never gonna leave it. Channel 7 News 

WRITING ABOUT MY experience of making music in Perth is a strange thing, because as soon as a ‘scene’ is bound and gagged by the written word it is finished, petrified, swept up into the Rolling Stone archives and forever considered ‘history’. It might be revered and glorified, but it’s still long gone. This could be a very restricting view to take on a community like Perth, which is still just as inspiring and productive as it ever was. I can’t pretend to understand where ‘music scenes’ begin or end. It seems a futile and narrow-minded pursuit. So before I begin, I want to say that this is merely a reflective exercise. There was never a ‘golden age’, and if one does exist I can’t see it, because it’s floating all around, invisible and omnipresent.

For years I suffered serious cultural guilt as a Western Australian. The orthodoxy and banality made me feel isolated, relegated to the company of eccentric long-haired ghosts singing to me from inside my Discman. Every birthday and Christmas, Dad would give me a care package of CDs. This blessed nourishment of Jethro Tull, Lou Reed, Led Zeppelin and David Bowie shone a light into the murky tunnels of my future. Playing music and generally being a flaming Christmas fruitcake became my sole purpose, and me and a few other school friends – Steve Summerlin and Richard Ingham of Mink Mussel Creek, and many other brilliant but criminally under-recognised projects – revelled in our little corner of filthy otherness. This outlook was key to our musical and creative development. We railed against the boredom of Perth not with pickets or protest, but with a head-in-the-sand hubris that made us feel invincible and unique. We found more comrades along the way – Joe Ryan, Kevin Parker, Jay Watson – and together we erected great walls of noise and hair and mouldy dishes around our Daglish share house commune citadel on Troy Terrace where we incubated, practised, recorded, talked and grew. A friend stick’n’poke tattooed a spiral shape into my arm to represent that way of life (which I’d lifted from Hermes Trismegistus and other alchemical mumbo jumbo I learned at university). Look inside and the world can be whatever you want. Look out and it’s ugly and shitty. In Perth, use of public space is regulated to the point of comedy, and Orwellian restrictions on tobacco, noise, bicycles, alcohol and public gatherings breed a festering discontent and boredom because no one likes being pre-emptively labelled a deviant. Being trusted enriches the soul – you can see it on the face of the child who leads the family trek. You can see the flipside on the faces of disenchanted detainees. On weekends, this restlessness is unleashed across clubs and pubs in Northbridge and Subiaco in an avalanche of Jägerbombs (17mL of Jägermeister dropped into a larger glass of Red Bull and then consumed with haste) and Midori and violence and cheap sex. When the Monday sun staggers over the horizon, people rub their eyes and heave a great sigh and the city reverts to its utilitarian state – the ‘bourgeois dream of unproblematic production’, as The 60s Without Apology (University of Minnesota Press, 1984) puts it, ‘of everyday life as the bureaucratic society of controlled consumption’. That this description of pre-revolutionary 1950s and ’60s America is so apt for Perth is damn scary. Or hilarious. I can’t decide. I guess it depends on the depth and colour of your nihilistic streak, or if you actually live here. Whichever way you look at it, it does not paint a picture of a city conducive to creativity. Art is the antithesis of logic and functionality – it is romance and wonder and stupid, pointless lovelies. As good old Mr Vonnegut so often said, it’s an exercise to make your soul grow. So how, in a super-functional and conservative environment whose every will is bent towards digging really, really big holes in the ground, have I seen and heard and felt some of the most brilliant, pure and original creativity in the world? I USED TO dream about living in a cultural powerhouse like Paris or Berlin or New York, but after spending time in these places I’ve realised that the emptiness and isolation of Perth – boredom to some – was a far better environment for creativity. The ‘cultural capitals’ are so rich in art and wonder that it can feel pointless to add to it. Maybe just being in those ‘cultural capitals’ fills us up with wonder? Strolling through Berlin at night, ducking into a bar with fish nailed to the roof, skipping across the cobblestones for some cheap beers in a record shop in a Russian caravan in an abandoned peanut factory…that kind of stuff fills the romantic void. Having a Ricard and a few Gitanes on the terrasse of Aux Folies; stumbling through Camden after a lock-in at the Witch’s Tit or the Cock’n’Balls or the Cancerous Bowel or whatever you call it; recollecting a possible conversation with Jah Wobble over a pint…Perth? It has no secret tunnels to romantic fulfilment. For me, music and art have always been a way to manufacture that romance lacking in upper-middle-class Western Australia. To be honest, if I had lived in New York I probably would’ve been so damn hung-over – or busy ensuring that I would be later – that a whole lot less creation would’ve gone on. Mundane and discouraging places like Perth create a vicious Darwinism for creatively inclined people, where survival of the fittest is played out with swift and unrepentant force and the flippant or unpassionate are left behind, drowning in putrid mind-clag. You have to really need it, and without the mysterious and poetic benefits of a vibrant city culture this has to come from deep inside. Amber Fresh, otherwise known as Rabbit Island, is one person who produces constant streams of music, drawings, essays, poems, calendars, videos and photos from her home. She fills her world with little pieces of homemade, lo-fi, photocopied beauty and magic. They don’t have funding or precedent or material ambition – and the result is something fresh and original. Mei Saraswati does the same thing, although completely different styles of music. She has produced, mixed, mastered and illustrated scores of albums in her bedroom and then released this other-worldly electronic R’n’B brilliance onto the internet with no fanfare, simply to turn around and start making more. These are just two examples. There are many more. SOMEHOW, BY BEING a cultural long-drop, Perth lit a fire under my arse. In more scholarly terminology this could be called a ‘spirit of negation’ – a margarine version of the same zeitgeist that has catalysed most worthwhile movements throughout history, from dadaism to punk to all the intellectual and artistic wonders of The Netherlands freshly unchained from their dastardly Spanish overlords. Being isolated spatially and culturally – us from the city, Perth from Australia and Australia from the world – arms one with an Atlas-strong sense of identity. Both actively and passively, originality seems to flourish in Perth’s artistic community. Without the wider community’s acceptance, creative pursuits lack the potential for commodification. There’s no point in preening yourself for success because it’s just not real. It’s a fairytale, so you may as well just do it in whatever way you like, good or bad, in your room or on the top of the Telstra building, which – as anyone with any common sense will attest – was built for that one potential badass to drop in on a skateboard and parachute off. Growing up in the Kimberley and then Fremantle, the true machinery of the music business evaded me. It was about as real as the Power Rangers and twice as awesome. Led Zeppelin and U2, all the way down to whatever was on Rage that morning, was just a pretty dream. But if I grew up in a city where success in music was common and highly visible, I reckon it would have been far more alluring. I would’ve understood how to go about it, probably before I actually realised how deep my love of music was. With the template for success laid out so precisely – gigs to be got, managers to be found, reviews to be had and the ultimate dream of ‘making it’ tangibly within reach – Perth would find itself producing far less original art. Because as it stands, it doesn’t really matter if you’re crap or silly or unbearably offensive, you wouldn’t get much further doing something different anyway. This helps to preserve a magical purity because it’s executed with love – with necessity. And what’s more, when these artists keep going and practising and advancing – which they must – somehow their crassness coagulates into something brilliantly individual and accomplished, and you can see it performed in an arena that makes the audience feel truly blessed. I saw Rabbit Island and Peter Bibby and Cam Avery play in backyards. I saw cease play in a tattoo parlour in Maylands. Me and Joe Ryan were plastered against the wall by their sound, gawking up at Andrew, the guitarist, precariously standing on his enormous amp wearing high heels and full fishnet bodystocking, slowly trying to drive his guitar through the top of his cabinet like some pagan-burlesque reimagining of King Arthur. After hours they slowed to a halt, and the crowd cheered from the stairs and bathroom door and kitchen and I remembered where we were: in a tiny share-house in Maylands, in the flaming cauldron of hell or the halls of Valhalla. Mink Mussel Creek played there a few times and once, in a flash of drunken inspiration, someone turned the only light in the room off mid-performance. I saw the fourteen guitarists of Electric Toad destroy a warehouse art gallery wearing ’90s WA football jerseys. Tame Impala and Pond played in Tanya’s garage and every time I cried and danced and felt like the breath of God was being embarrassingly saucy all over my skin. We played our very first show in that garage and I can still see Jay demolishing the tiny drum kit – kick, snare, ride, tom – as sparks floated from the forty-gallon drum and lit the faces of the people looking in from the dark. None of us had ever seen anyone play like it in real life, let alone in a garage, sitting on milk crates. As far as genres go, our music ‘scene’ in Perth was an anomaly. A mad mosaic of groups and artists only held together by gallant separation from conventional Perth society. Nick Odell, the drummer of CEASE and Sonny Roofs, still has a poster for a gig at Amplifier Bar that I remember as a kind of microcosmic Woodstock – a tactile realisation of all the beauty and communion we cherished. The line-up included us (Mink Mussel Creek), CEASE (aforementioned stoner/doom/drone lords), Sex Panther (punk-party queens), Oki Oki (Nintendo synth pop) and Chris Cobilis (experimental laptop noise music). I think most members of the bands ended up on stage at more than one time, wrapped in Cobilis’ wires or yelling into a madly effected microphone in front of CEASE. I certainly did. Nowhere else would such a ridiculously mismatched line-up consider themselves a tight community. We all partied together, played together and are still friends. I think this spirit is lacking in a lot of the more culturally enlightened parts of the world. Maybe in these vibrant communities the countercultural idea is so entrenched it becomes capitalist orthodoxy and loses its edge. It is subjected to the rationality it once challenged. In the cultural capitals – Paris, Berlin, New York – creativity and original thinking are accepted and valued parts of mainstream life. In Perth they are not. Paris has over four hundred streets named after artists and writers, and this honour is not restricted to the most unobtrusive or patriotic. Rue Albert Camus, Rue Marcel Duchamp and the recently proposed Place Jean-Michel Basquiat, for example, show the state glorifying revolutionaries, absurdists, libertines and a gay, heroin-using, Haitian–American graffiti artist. Today we can stroll along the verdant Boulevard Auguste-Blanqui, named after the man who led the uprising of the Paris Commune. A revolutionary, a prisoner, an anarchist. In modern terms: a terrorist. There, art is a basic fact of everyday life, while in Perth it is an anomaly hidden in garages and living rooms – deep beneath a conservative fishbowl of productivity. So, all things considered, ‘cultural capitals’ should be havens for art and music, and Perth should not. The romance just seeps into the pores, ja? I always thought this before I left Western Australia, but have since found it to be otherwise. I asked a young photographer and artist in Amsterdam about the music scene there and her reply was wholly negative. A lot of Parisians seem to feel the same way. I look back on my time in Perth and think about the huge number of brilliant musicians and artists who I saw and knew, often not in official venues but in backyards or sheds or the abandoned entertainment centre (yes, CEASE). Perhaps with the freedom – almost expectation – to create, revel and throw it all around the streets, it all just gets a bit boring. Like much good art, it doesn’t really ‘mean’ anything, so writing an essay about it is an odd activity. The experience of a city or community varies so much that it can never be defined while it is still occurring. When it’s actually happening, a ‘scene’ is not really a ‘scene’ – it’s completely intangible and only coagulates into a definitive and convenient ball when history puts it in a cage, when someone from the outside looks in and decides there’s something shared between a bunch of vaguely artistic fools. I guess that’s what I’m doing now, which is pretty ridiculous seeing as nothing is finished and the Perth artistic community is so ethereal that it couldn’t and shouldn’t be labelled at all.

From Griffith Review Edition 47: Looking West © Copyright Griffith University & the author.

[glitterybluemagic-blog]

Pranks

Inspired by 2x10 when Madzie flicked Alec away into an elevator. I know it’s a serious moment but like Alec was swooshed away like he weighed nothing, by Madzie, a lil girl who isn’t even half his height. It’s kinda hilarious. So then i started thinking about how she and Magnus would have so much fun playing tricks on him with their magic.

For @deatheater-hearmeroar, i’m sorry this took so long Mari, i’m not very good at coming up with pranks  😅

When Magnus and Alec adopted Madzie, they really didn’t expect her to be such handful. For someone so tiny and quiet, she was quite the prankster. Sure, all kids were but then again, Madzie was a pretty powerful warlock for her age. She was sneaky and smart too. It was all in good fun of course, she would never intentionally hurt anyone she cared about. However, having a papa who shared her mischievous trait, meant that Alec tends to be the victim of most of their pranks.

The first time they teamed up, it was unintentional. Magnus was coming home late that night so Alec picked up Madzie from Catarina’s. He was exhausted. He just spent the day training with new recruits and going on 3 missions with Jace, who seemed more determined than ever to put himself in harm’s way. Luckily for him, Madzie was due for some nap time anyway, so he fell asleep shirtless with the little warlock sprawled over his back. An hour later though, she woke up to the sound of creaking floorboards.

“Hey there sweet pea, did I wake you?” Magnus whispered.

Madzie shook her head while rubbing her eyes in response. After stretching out over Alec, she raised her arms to Magnus. Chuckling, he carried her out to the living room and magicked some markers and a colouring book. When she was settled and occupied, he left her to clean himself up. Now, every parent knows better than to leave a child alone with colouring materials. Next thing you know, there will be new artwork on the walls. Madzie had a better idea though. Her daddy was fast asleep and she had quite the array of markers. So she tip toed her way over to the bed and started doodling away on Alec’s pale back. She drew a bright yellow sun on his shoulders and a pond of fishes on his lower back. For some reason there was camel right in the middle of the picture and random doodles of popsicles and butterflies scattered everywhere else.

When Magnus got out of the shower, she immediately froze. Both their widened eyes met for a moment before Magnus put a finger over his lips. He quickly snapped away the markers and carried a giggling warlock out to the living room where they could laugh wholeheartedly. Alec woke up 10 minutes later completely unaware of the masterpiece on his back. Magnus and Madzie kept straight faces as he walked over to them and gave them each a kiss on the cheek. It wasn’t long until Alec started to notice their all too wide smiles.

“Why are you two so happy? What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing love, we’ve just had a colourful day, haven’t we little one?”

Madzie nodded enthusiastically before turning away to divert their attention to the television. Confused, Alec made his way over to them. In wasn’t until he got up to get some snacks did he catch a glimpse of his back in the mirror.

“Please tell me this isn’t permanent,” he said groaning.

The second time was intentional. The three of them were grocery shopping at a nearby market. Turns out Madzie loved the hustle and bustle of a busy market so every weekend, they would head to a different one to do some shopping. Magnus would carry her on his shoulders while Alec went around and picked up the items Madzie chose. It was fun for them, pretending to be mundane for a couple of hours. That didn’t stop Madzie and Magnus from having their own fun though.

The trick to doing magic in a mundane setting is to be discreet. The pair had been planning this one for a couple of days, deciding on when to begin, coming up with ideas and ruling out others. Exploding a pumpkin and conjuring faces and voices on tomatoes were ruled out of course. They didn’t want to draw attention from mundanes or create a mess. By Friday, they’ve come up with a couple of harmless yet amusing ideas.

The day started off normally. The three walked into the market hand in hand like they always did. Alec let Madzie choose a couple of her favourite fruits while Magnus sneaked in some veggies. By the time they got to the aisles, the two warlocks were ready to commence mission. Madzie was on Magnus’s shoulders, giving her a better view of the surroundings and Magnus could keep an eye on the mundanes nearby.

“Daddy, peanut butter! Behind you!” Madzie called out.

While he was turning, Madzie casted a spell on one of the jars. She watched as Alec tried to pick it up. It was stuck, the spell worked. Alec tried to pick it up again, with more strength. Still stuck. He turned to the other two only to see them picking out some biscuits further down the aisle. Then he tried picking up a different jar. It worked. What?

“Alexander, darling is everything alright?” Magnus questioned.

Still baffled, he turned away to place it in the basket beside him. Gone. He looked around only to find it by Magnus. Alec figured he probably took it with him but as he made his way back to them, he saw 5 other baskets around him. All with the same contents. No one else was in the same aisle. What?

The two masterminds tried stifling their laughter watching the shadowhunter looking so befuddled. Eventually Alec heard their snickering and put the pieces together. Alec narrowed his eyes at them.

“No ice-cream for either of you later,” he scowled.

The third time however, Madzie pranked both her parents. It was a quiet night in the loft. Madzie was playing with her dolls on the floor while her daddy and papa were playing chess. They were completely sucked in the game, neither one of them willing to lose, competitive as always. Madzie eyed them both for a minute and decided to climb up onto the sofa. They paid no attention to her. Smiling, she decided it was time to have a little fun.

She snapped her fingers once, causing thunder to roll. Another snap to give the illusion of the room darkening and the sound of rain pitter pattering against the windows. One last snap to blow a strong gust of wind into the loft. The sudden chill broke both Alec and Magnus concentration. Frantically, they got up and ran around the house to make sure all the windows were closed shut. This gave the little warlock just enough time to move a couple of pieces around. Just enough to let her papa win. She watched them play enough times to figure out how the game worked.

When the two returned, Madzie was already back on the floor playing with her dolls. She smiled sweetly at them as they made their way back to their seats. Then she started a silent count down. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3-

“You cheated!” Alec exclaimed.

“How Alexander? I got back the same time you did,” Magnus said, raising an eyebrow.

“You did the thing with your magic,” he said while trying to imitate Magnus’s movements.

“Please, love, I don’t need magic to win at chess,” Magnus scoffed

“Well, my knight wasn’t there when I left!”

At this point they both looked down at the board again. Alec was right, and some of Magnus’s pieces had been moved too. It was just subtle enough not to notice at first glance. They looked back up at each other, eyes meeting for a moment before it clicked.

“Madzie!”

[the-revisionist]

The Tristan Chord, chapter 15

[Edited to fix typos, thank you @farminglesbian, and to change a musical selection that came to me out of the blue.]

xv. the book of miracles

The tragedy isn’t that love doesn’t last. The tragedy is the love that lasts. —Shirley Hazzard, The Transit of Venus

“High fructose corn syrup.”

The phrase, dropped like a gauntlet at dinner, brings idle conversation to a halt. It is spoken by Lawrence, who points in a very melodramatic j’accuse fashion at Flora.

In turn, Flora blinks at him slowly, decides he’s playing at something, and giggles.

Why do I not have normal children? Caroline wonders. One is terrified of Latin and cries at soppy commercials on telly, the other apparently hears voices and is seriously considering going to clown school. The jury, however, is still out on Flora. Please be normal, she silently begs the child. If I screw you up somehow, I won’t be able to bear it. Meanwhile the others assembled around the table—Alan, Celia, and Greg—stare at her, awaiting a Solomon-like proclamation on Lawrence’s bizarre declaration.

Caroline makes them wait. She gulps wine, girds her loins, and unfurls a mighty sigh. “What are you on about?” she asks Lawrence.

“She said it.” Lawrence wags his finger at his sister. “The other day. Quite clearly, I might add. At breakfast, I swear she was looking right at the cornflakes box—”

Greg gasps. “You didn’t let her eat any of those, did you?”

“What? No.” Irritated at the interruption, Lawrence screws up his face in a profoundly unattractive fashion, the expression on a scatological scale somewhere in the not-so-vast plane between taking a shit and actually smelling one.

“Good,” Greg says, “because they do have high fructose corn syrup in them. Corn flakes are the devil.”

God, I am going to be completely pissed before this night is over if this keeps up, Caroline thinks as she polishes off her second glass of wine. “Can I quote you on that?”

“That’s not the point,” Lawrence says. “The point is, like, totally out of the blue, she just says ‘high fructose corn syrup.’ Just like that. And I was like, ‘What did you say?’ And she looked all smug and wouldn’t say anything else! Not a single word. And she won’t say it now. She just won’t. I’ve been trying all day to get her to say it.”

Bright with paternal enthusiasm, Greg gives it a go: “Flora. Sweetheart. Say, ‘high fructose corn syrup!’”  

Celia pinches her brow.

Thoughtfully Flora regards her dinner plate. She positions several tiny pieces of broccoli upright on their stalks near a mound of uneaten casserole, creating a little mini-forest surrounding a hilly terrain. Caroline interprets this as a potential clue to a future occupation: Maybe she will become a naturalist. Or an urban planner. Or a demented celebrity chef.

“See? Nothing. She’s gaslighting me,” Lawrence says.

“Very significant achievement for two years old,” Alan observes. His mobile pings and he pulls it out of his pocket.

Celia glares at him. “Don’t look at it.”

“Just a peek.”

“I said don’t look at it.”

“I’m looking at it.”

“Don’t look at it.”

“I have to!” Alan protests.

“It’s dinnertime. You’re being very rude.”

“You know I have to,” he repeats. “Could be urgent.”

“They’re fine. The worst is over, that’s what the weather service says.”

“It’s still raining,” Alan says plaintively.

It’s been raining for a week, and as a result the valley is flooded. Well, Halifax is flooded; as for Harrogate, Caroline cannot help but summon words of wisdom from Gillian’s own personal saint, Morrissey: the rain falls hard on a humdrum town. It’s not exactly flooding of biblical proportions all around, as a rather hysterical local weatherman had decreed, but bad enough that Gillian’s farm and sheep have felt the effects: washed-out roads, power out, ruined hay, sheep driven to higher ground, and bad enough that Raff has been bunkered at the farm alone with his mother for three days and serving as the reluctant point person in keeping everyone else informed via increasingly irate and desperate texts to his grandfather.

“Well?” Celia prompts. “What does our Raff say?”

Alan squints at the mobile and enunciates slowly: “‘Is matricide a crime?’”

Lawrence gives his mother an inscrutable look. Caroline glares back in a manner that, she hopes, conveys that she will not be very easy to kill. Which he should certainly be aware of by now. He sulks and resumes surveillance of his sister, who tosses a piece of broccoli in his direction; whether it’s a peace offering or a come at me bro challenge cannot be discerned.

“Oh, dear,” murmurs Celia.

“Also, they’re almost out of toilet paper!” Alan places the mobile on the table. “That settles it. I think I should go out there.”

“But the roads may be bad, love.”

“Roads are fine now, rain should stop tomorrow.”

Celia’s eyes narrow. “Thought you said Gillian isn’t convinced the rain will stop.”

“Well—”

“‘She knows rain,’ you said. You always make her sound like she’s some sort of bloody American Indian, out on the prairie doing a rain dance.”

“There’s a mental image,” Caroline says. She starts clearing the table.

Alan frowns. “Harry will come with. If I ask, he will. We’d be all right, together. I just want to know they’re all right, want to see with my own two eyes.”

“Why don’t you sleep on it?”

“‘Sleep on it,’” Alan grumbles. “You’re just hoping I’ll forget.”

“Yes, dear, I am.”

In the kitchen Caroline stacks plates on the counter and grabs a casserole dish to scrape out before putting it in the dishwasher. As she turns around she finds her mother has magically materialized before her with the shocking stealth of a malevolent, enchanted garden gnome; rearing back to avoid certain collision, the contents of the dish—mixed remnants of noodles, various vegetables, and crumbly tofu in some kind of peanut sauce that Greg said was inspired by West African cuisine even though Caroline thinks he probably knows as much about West African cuisine as she knows about Renaissance poetry or the inner workings of her Jeep—find themselves gloppily splayed against her chest before gently sliding down her shirt and plopping onto the kitchen floor.

She counts to ten—normally an effective way of tempering her reactions, but in this case with random food gunk clinging to an expensive silk blouse finds herself going full on sacrilegious: “Jesus Fucking Christ!”

Lawrence enters the kitchen and then quickly backpedals out.

“Must you sneak up on people like that?” Caroline shouts.

“Must you swear like that? Gillian really is an awful influence on you.” Celia frowns at the floor. “Now that’s a right mess.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“I’m sorry but I wanted to talk to you alone, while I had the chance,” Celia says in an undertone.

“Well you’ve a captive audience now, so fire away.”

“You need to go to the farm tomorrow.”

Of course, the old woman would ask her to do precisely the one thing she does not want to do. “Why?”

“If you don’t go, Alan will and he’ll drag Harry along, and those two together—good God. If they don’t get stuck in the mud somewhere or lost God knows where while chasing errant sheep, Harry will drink all of Gillian’s wine and you know how she gets about that. In other words, they will drive her right ’round the bend and none of us, ever, will hear the end of it—well, I won’t hear the end of it, because she’ll blame me for not keeping her father put. She said as much to me when the rains started. She actually called me, can you believe it? She never calls me unless someone has a gun to her head. But she told me to keep him here.” Celia pauses to recharge from this breathless petition and plays with her necklace—pearls, a gift from Alan on their first anniversary. “He’s in fine fettle these days but I know, I just know, he will push himself trying to help her if he goes out there now and I don’t want him to risk making himself sick again.”

“I understand, but why me? Why not send—Greg?” As Caroline marvels at the nonsense out of her mouth, Celia seems to seriously ponder it but exactly five seconds later they burst into simultaneous fits of laughter.

“You are really funny sometimes,” Celia chortles.

“I know. Missed my calling.”

“But really, love. It’s not like you’d have to actually do anything strenuous. Just take them some food, you’ve got that leftover origami—

“—orecchiette,” Caroline says.

“—oh, and toilet paper, and just sweep the floors, wash the dishes, say an encouraging word or two and you’ll have done your duty.”

Like a wife, Caroline thinks.

“So will you?”

She sighs. “If you think it will—”

“Ah, wonderful! Thank you, love! You’ll go tomorrow then, will you? I’ll tell Alan right now.” Celia whirls out of the kitchen.

“I didn’t say yes yet,” she shouts at Celia’s retreating form.

Celia cackles triumphantly. “You’re my favorite daughter!”

She stares at the greasy smears on the floor.

The beginning of the flood had arrived at a most inopportune time: immediately after the pub kiss, which had left her fiery-cheeked and dazed on the ride home, quietly holding herself as she stared at pearl drops of light random and fleeting against the panorama of darkness. Twice William asked if she was all right. Later, alone in bed, she touched herself briefly and found no satisfaction in doing so. Bored before I even began, she had thought and then, oh Christ, quoting Morrissey, and finally, dismally she threw herself off the cliff into sleep. She woke to a morning heavily cloaked in rain and fog, the relentless downpour hissing with such persistence that when it briefly let up three days later the air rang with empty glory, not unlike the ripe silence following the violent peal of church bells.

At least Raff will get a good laugh out of seeing her in Wellies; she will actually get use of the pair that she bought years ago at the last threat of flooding. In fact, she is excited to wear the boots because they are a lovely, glossy black that will go smashingly with practically anything. Oh Christ, she sighs, and imagines the women’s mag headline: Dressing for Natural Catastrophe: What to Wear!

The drive to the farm the next afternoon is fraught with detours and muddy roads along a horizon that reminds Caroline of a Rothko: dark gray land and light gray sky cauterized together with a ragged white line across the horizon, the gleaming line absorbing every bit of light that daytime can possibly spare. Splinters of thin, light rain fall against the windshield. In the drive up to the farmhouse the Jeep gets caught in a muddy rut; she manages to back out and then maneuver around it, but the flood-damaged dirt road is bumpier than usual and despite the Jeep’s otherwise excellent shock absorbers Caroline gets a shaky, tediously unsatisfying ride that brings to mind the nadir of her sexual relationship with John.

As she pulls up within sight of the farmhouse she sees that Raff has spotted the Jeep from afar and he awaits her impatiently, bouncing on his heels. She is unprepared for the intensity of his greeting: He throws himself into her arms like a long-lost son or lover. She doubts she will receive a similarly enthusiastic reaction from Gillian; Christ knows you certainly don’t deserve it, she thinks.  

“Thank God!” he says. “A normal person.”

“It’s nice to be thought of in that way,” Caroline replies.

“Please tell me you brought—”

“—toilet paper, yes, and pasta, sandwiches, biscuits, salad—”

“None of that healthy stuff for us,” Raff says. “Oooh, look at those fancy Wellies! Very chic, Cazza. You look like a farmer on telly—like you could be on a show about a sheep farmer who solves murders all the time.”

Caroline rolls her eyes in mock exasperation. “So where’s your mum?”

“Out in barn. I find it’s best to keep her out there, away from polite society.”

After they’ve unloaded the Jeep she reluctantly follows Raff out to the barn while he talks of dead sheep, wet hay, and power outages; the sheep were two dumb, young ewes that fell down a ravine, some of the hay might be salvageable but at least half of it might be bad, and the power is back on.

They find Gillian pulling an empty wheelbarrow into the barn. From the knees down her jeans and boots are spackled with mud. Her left elbow looks skinned and the sleeve of the flannel shirt on that arm is torn, and her hair is greasy and pulled back into a ponytail. At the sight of Caroline she drops the wheelbarrow; the clatter echoes and Caroline jumps. Gillian frowns and tugs at her work gloves.

Over the past week Caroline has rehearsed various speeches in her head ranging from the florid to the plainspoken, but all these thoughtful peregrinations made her wish she could simply present Gillian with a Venn diagram of intersecting emotions where each panic-riddled state or practical consideration included Gillian as the common element. Additionally the circular aspect of the diagram alluded rather obviously to Caroline’s typical mental roundabouts on the subject. Even allowing for Raff’s presence, what comes out of her mouth is still light years from either an articulate summation of the current chaos of her mind, or a poetic expression of inchoate desire:  

“I come bearing toilet paper,” she says.

As expected she gets Gillian’s flinty look of irritated incomprehension, not unlike the time Greg tried to educate her on the nutritional value of mung beans in refutation of Gillian’s steadfast refusal to eat anything called mung.

“Sometimes you don’t get the hero you want,” Raff says as he claps a hand on Caroline’s shoulder, “but the hero you need.”

Gillian shuffles, stares at the floor. “That’s great.”

“There’s food,” Raff adds. “She’s brought food.”

“Good.” Gillian pretends that peeling off work gloves and tossing them onto a tool bench is an effort requiring both massive strength and supreme concentration.

Resigned to his mother’s surliness, Raff merely shoots her an exasperated look.  

Look at me, Caroline thinks, but now Gillian busies herself with wiping dry the handle of some dangerous-looking tool that could easily be used for disembowelment and so she quickly turns her attention back to Raff. “Are you hungry?” she squeaks at him.

“I am, but I was gonna shove off—” He hesitates, fixing a glance on his mother. “—if that’s still all right.”

Gillian nods, digs around in her jeans pocket. In flight, the keys to the Landy flash across the barn.

Raff swipes at the air and catches them. His face softens as he jiggles the keys in his palm. “You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah. I told you it’s all right. So go on already, go see your girls. Come back tomorrow.”

Not content to proffer a mere thank you, Raff strides across the barn and engulfs his mother in a bear hug. Caroline allows herself to be amused at the spectacle of Gillian squirming, looking irritated, then pleased, then smiling, and then berating her son’s manhood: “All right, stop hugging me before you start growing ovaries.”

Would that be such a bad thing? Caroline decides not to say this.

“I love you, man,” Raff drawls oafishly in imitation of an American drunkard.

This makes Gillian chuckle and Caroline experience a brief fit of jealousy. There was a time when she used to make Gillian laugh; was that gone now, did the leaden intensity of this thing between them somehow drain the light from their relationship as the cursed, bloody flooded valley drained the sun from the sky?

She clears her throat and asks, “Is there anything I can do?”

Back to the squinty glare. “Yeah.” Gillian grabs a wide broom. She swaggers in Caroline’s general direction and then effortlessly tosses the broom at Caroline, who manages an awkward catch of it. “Sweep in here. Muck it out a bit.”

Once again irritated at Gillian’s behavior, Raff asks pointedly, “What are you gonna do?”

“Well,” Gillian drawls as she continues walking away from them, “since we’ve got toilet paper, thought I’d celebrate by taking a shit.”

They watch her leave. While she walks down the path to the house she occasionally glares up at the sky, as if daring it to rain more.

Raff shakes his head. “She’s really too much.”

You have no idea, Caroline wants to say. Instead she hugs Raff again before he sprints out to the Land Rover. As he drives away, he waves with frantic, grateful desperation, as if she ceded a place on a lifeboat for him. It’s like Titanic and she is Leonardo DiCaprio, Raff is Kate Winslet, and Gillian is the fucking iceberg. No matter, Caroline smiles bravely in a quintessentially English well chaps we’re doomed fashion while waving listlessly back at Raff and murmuring, “God help me.”

After sweeping the barn Caroline sits gingerly on an ancient stool that should be consigned to the woodpile. The stool wobbles and abruptly she stands. She rubs her back, stares at the large metal tool chest tucked under the tool bench. The red enameled exterior has clearly seen better days; the tool chest’s squat body is covered with dents and dings and dirt. There are five drawers of varying sizes, ranging from the smallest at the top to the largest at the bottom. The largest drawer looks a bit crumpled, as if it had been targeted in Gillian-driven fit of pique; as a result, it does not close properly. Caroline is not certain what compels her—other than sheer nosiness—but she pries open the drawer. It is crammed with books: Both paperbacks and hardcovers, all in varying stages of age and decrepitude. History, poetry, literature. Even a Stephen Hawking book. Philip Larkin. J.B. Priestley. Wallace Stevens. Barbara Tuchman. A book called The Transit of Venus catches her eye—her hope that it is actually about astronomy is immediately dashed by an abstract, pastel cover that indicates it’s a novel or perhaps poetry. Some of the paperbacks are warped with damp, their pages as furbelowed as the skirts of a Victorian matron. 

All of these, Gillian’s books–as hidden and damaged as she is.

Caroline knows now that she has misjudged Gillian from day one. Thought she was reckless when in fact she possessed patience borne from a lifetime of denials and disappointments. Thought she was fragile and frail until Caroline discovered the untold muscles and sinew coiled under her skin and the sure and steady grip of her hands. Thought she was an uneducated rube and not a woman who secretly read books in a damp dim barn—probably because she didn’t want her shit husband to find out and knock her upside the head and who does it now simply because it’s a force of habit or is unwilling to admit to anyone that she needs the grace of solitude. Or both. Thought she was incapable of fidelity or love when she would gladly accept the smallest scrap of anything remotely resembling love, including its many seductive duplicities.  

Tell me a lie, tell me you love me.

The glinting rain, which had stopped shortly before she arrived, picks up again, deepening the puddles and dips along the rough path that leads to the farmhouse. She imagines Gillian walking this path everyday, through all kinds of weather. Day in, day out. Sun warming her skin, wind stiffening her clothes, rain soaking her bones, snowflakes dusting her hair. Or on days when she’s hungover, or menstruating, or too wired on coffee, or walking with a spring in her step because she had if off with someone she met recently and it was good. Or walking slowly because Eddie has broken her ribs and they’re still mending.

Gillian told her this story while in that strangely lucid state of drunkenness that lent itself to her compulsive confessions: She had been too frightened to go to hospital because they would have asked too many questions, so she spent a fortnight in bed feigning a bout of flu to everyone until finally, with her torso bound up with bandages—the perpetrator himself had gently wrapped her up while crying and saying it will never happen again, I swear to you—and stuffed with as much paracetamol and oxycodone as she could take, she went back to work, doing some light chores every day. The path to the barn every morning was the hardest bit, she had said, like walking a gauntlet and every uneven step sent waves of pain beating against her core; once she got past that, everything seemed easier. A miracle then, a bloody fucking miracle that she did not die, a miracle that the man Celia Dawson reacquainted herself with after so many years was not just a widower but a bereft parent showing them photos of his lost child—a handsome, weary woman with haunted eyes the elusive shade of sky, sea, and earth commingled. There, that’s her, that’s my Gillian.

Caroline riffles the stiff, yellowed pages of The Transit of Venus. As words flutter by she encounters her name in the book several times. There are signs and miracles on this rainy day to be interpreted and treasured in equal measure, and the last one is divination for the disbeliever: She stands here looking at Gillian’s books and know that this, all of this, is heading where it’s heading despite her complete and utter lack of faith.

CHAPTER SOUNDTRACK:

The Smiths:

“There is a Light That Never Goes Out” “William, It Was Really Nothing,”

EDITED TO ADD:

Patricia Barber, “You Don’t Know Me”

Note: The great Shirley Hazzard died recently, so the reference to her novel in this chapter is a hat tip to an extraordinary writer who, I fear, will not be as remembered and revered as she should be.

[twistednuns]

January 2017

All this sunshine lately. Reading in the beam of warm sunshine on my bed. Taking pretty pictures of translucent things like physalis leaves or a crystal. Admiring how green my eyes are in the right light.

Berlin magic.

Despite all the pain and soreness after being ill: the fact that I do have stomach muscles. Good to know.

A radio interview with the astronaut Samantha Cristoforetti: "From the very beginning, I liked sleeping in weightlessness. Just closing your eyes, floating, sleeping." What a nice thought.

New Year's Day was unexpectedly peaceful and happy. After celebrating with Claudia, Frank and Fabi (we made salad with goat cheese and bacon, pho and raspberry tiramisu; watched Dinner for One, played a drinking game and Activity and Bleigießen - apparently I got a ship which means I'm gonna go on a big trip) I stayed at Frank's place. We discussed space and the different planetory size relations and how insignificant I think we are so I don't like thinking about space. Frank is more optimistic; he thinks the idea that humanity might really matter on an intergalactic level in a few thousand years is so exciting. All this must have been triggered by watching Lars von Trier's Melancholia together. Anyway. In bed, we talked about our ideal picnic spot (somewhere over the rainbow) again, Machu Picchu with Roquefort. And illegal international cheese smuggling. I told him the story of Obi's Swiss colleagues who always bring cheese when they come to work at the observatory in Chile. On the next morning, I found Frank playing with his birthday present on the floor. I made tea and we watched another episode of Westworld. I left the house because his parents were about to come over and treat him to dinner. Got a beautiful brownie and some mezze at the Turkish bakery (I love the fact that they're open on Sundays) and took in the atmosphere. Everything was calm, the sun was shining, it was a bit foggy. So I went to Ruhmeshalle to see the Bavaria statue. There was confetti on the floor and Theresienwiese actually felt like Tempelhofer Feld in Berlin. Weird and beautiful. Apparently I'm not the only one who notices things like that. When I got home I talked to Doris for a while and suggested a spontaneous roadtrip to Frank. Oh, and on my way home I had this glorious but rare feeling, that I am unbelievably blessed. Everything is really really good and all I gotta do is stop wanting more and appreciating what I have. It's strange, the more intelligent and spoilt you are the likelier you are to be unhappy. Not anymore. I'll try to be good to myself. I'm thankful, SO thankful for what I have and how I feel at the moment, even though I don't really know what changed. I used to be SO miserable.

Ashley was happy and excited like a little child because of the large amount of New Year's Eve fireworks in Germany.

My mum sent me a book and a very heartfelt letter this weekend. I loved the textile feeling of the paper she used and read the book right away.

Doris's reaction to the fact that I glued glitter to my face and got some stuck in my eye.

At New Year's Eve, my fortune cookie advised: "It is not enough just to know the way. You also have to get there." Smart cookie.

Visiting Dantebad for the first time, a large outdoor swimming pool. It was freezing cold and started to snow, but I swam some laps nevertheless. There were cute ladies with floral bathing caps, too. And I loved the underwater lights and the steam in the night. Nice view. When I walked to my car, the sidewalk was covered in snow. Quiet and peaceful.

Getting a small piece of Roquefort and graffiti tofu. Eating it slowly at my desk. Always cutting off just a tiny peace and eating it straight from the knife.

The colour of the broccoli against the pale pink plate. Always take note of good colour combinations (like neon pink Sharpie on light blue paper and pistachio green fingernails against the plum coloured sheets).

Pasta with broccoli, a little cream, parmigiano, chili, thyme. Maybe an onion. Heavenly good.

The British property market delivers gems I'd immediately move into. Or rather this one? I don't even want to look at the rest because I'll never be able to afford something like that (nor do I want to, for that matter, but I appreciate great architecture). Related: somehow I ended up on the official website of the Bavarian castle department and found out that you can actually rent a lot of the rooms! If you could only rent the greenhouses in the botanical garden, too... I'd love to get married there one day.

It didn't make me happy but it moved me: a woman wakes up to find the partner next to her dead. 28 years old. She falls apart, obviously. And she writes about it.

Dr.Hauschka's Rose Day Cream. What a blessing for my moisture-depraved winter skin.

Walking through the Nymphenburg castle park and the botanical gardens in the sunshine. The lakes were frozen and everything was covered in snow. Lena and I went to the beautiful café, sitting at a table in front of the window with a view over the historical botanical institute. I got hot chocolate because I love spooning off the molten whipped cream before I drink it. Unfortunately it was already too late for the greenhouses but we are planning on coming back soon to see the tropical butterflies.

Buying an &otherstories nail polish on  sale that has the same colour as my favourite pistachio ice-cream from Ballabeni in Schwabing (the PERFECT ice-cream flavour).

Getting the last table at grano, a tiny Italian pizza place behind the Munich city museum with interesting wall art.

Feeling like a naughty librarian in my Ace&Tate glasses.

It's odd how comforting a simple "there's absolutely nothing in the fridge" dish is. Couscous with tomato puree. Parmigiano, if I have some. A dash of lemon. That's it.

The movie Gnade (2012) with Birgit Minichmayr and Jürgen Vogel. And beautiful Norwegian landscapes.

The little blue suede pouch with rose gold speckles I got for Christmas. I use it as a wallet and whenever I take it out of my bag I notice how much I love the look and feel of it. Very rarely, an object just feels like you, doesn't it?

Cutting open a passion fruit. And the purple carrot dying the boiling water blue.

The ARTE create Let's Swing series.

A weird dream. Leaving Frank's house, taking the bus to a physiotherapist's practice on a busy street. Waiting room, far too many people. After one or two hours we discovered the auditorium next door. At first, there were only pupils from my old schools (and at some point the dream had been one about a school lesson, I suppose). Soon after, people from the waiting room dropped in and I decided to put on a show. I was the host, of course, and stood on stage, speaking into a microphone. I don't even wanna know what I said. But then Inge and Wölki walked up to me and started making out. And *zoom* we're in a French coastal town (?), climbing over ruins in the sea? I don't know how my subconsciousness conjures these things up...

Going to Candy Club party with Doris. I didn't wear a check shirt like all the lesbians but instead bright pink hair. There was a drag show with a dancing pizza, an all-girl band (The Veras) and an interesting hipster duo, Nalan381. I loved some of the DJ's choices, too, like Warpaint, Róisín Murphy, Bonaparte and Electric Six.

#SaltBae

The big snowman my neighbours have built in the garden. Watching the birds peck at the bags of peanuts I hung up in the bushes.

Eating quail eggs for the first time (we got them at the Karstadt supermarket where everything is super pricey but it's so exciting to go through the aisles and look at the unusual items they're selling). The box said they came from "alternative production" so Frank and I were joking about quails with tiny party hats, riding model trains around the pen. Only drinking full moon water and having energy crystals around.

The fact that I really enjoy healthy eating. I usually forget when I eat too much junk food and sweets because the palate is so easily adaptable. But recently I've started preparing salads, soups, chia pudding and lots of fruit and veg again - it's fun and it makes me feel so much better.

Travel Man - 48 Hours in... // A travel guide series with Richard Ayoade!

ProperCorn - tiny popcorn snackpacks; mine came with smooth peanut and almond. Yum.

Also: eating much healthier. Eating less. Eating a ton of veggies and fruit. And feeling so good about it! I even lost a few kilograms already. Is this finally happening?

Going to Residenztheater for the first time to see Arthur Miller's The Crucible. What a great play. Later I found out that the actor who playes John Proctor was also in Toni Erdmann; he played the colleague who attended the naked party after all, I think. I've got two more theatre tickets for the next weeks, I'm really looking forward to it.

Having dinner and watching a movie at the cinema with colleagues and Nicole's brother and father. We got along famously and I actually got her Bernhard's phone number because we are planning on seeing an ice-hockey match together.

Discovering this old back issue of Missy Magazine with a focus on Sleater-Kinney. Why, WHY is it sold out?! Also this photograph. Dressing like Corin is my life goal now. I'm having a fangirl moment.

Reading about feminism. Being overwhelmed by the Women's Marches all over the world on the day after Trump's inauguration. Getting the feeling that standing up for equality is something I'm passionate about. Ashley Judd reciting Nina Donovan's I am a nasty woman was powerful. I hope Trump is going to fuck up big time so people will wake up now and make America actually great again. He's just going to make us stand closer together.

Taking a moment in a club (even though being in a glum mood) to appreciate how great it is to stand in a room full of dancing people, listening to really loud rock music (fun, too, you know - Ballroom Blitz!).

Tiny embroideries.

Deciding on brushing up my French (I'm going to Paris next month!!). Earning more than 1300xp in DuoLingo on a slow Saturday.

Smorfia neapolitana. Crazy Italians. I saw one of these posters in Travel Man and liked the idea a lot.

Nachtbad - they turned an old sauna club in the gay part of the city into a bar, and they even left the showers running. Nice venue.

Hamlet at Munich Kammerspiele. Buckets full of blood and a confetti hose. I loved it.

A healthy dose of cat content. Watching the streetcat Bob movie with Doris and visiting Fricki at home where I got to know Effi the cat. She loved me and sat on my shoulder; even slept like a baby on my arm.

Spending a day in the city instead of going to work (even though I had to attend a workshop). Walking through streets I rarely visit. Getting beautiful and unusual (pumpkin, truffle, rosemary...) macarons at Principessa's and having a chat with the owner. Having dinner at the Victorian House, walking over Viktualienmarkt, stopping at a fruit vendor for some blueberries, getting a necklace at &otherstories and rice papier at the Asian food store.

Outside our classroom we saw a fox running through the snow! I was just as excited about that as the children.

Taking a screen printing class! We were only 4 people and the teacher was really nice so we spent the whole Saturday making prints. I want my own screen now... gotta find out where to get or how to build one! I printed a Sleater-Kinney picture on a tote bag, by the way. "Nasty women!"

The dad in the whole food market who showed his son a monkey toy with a long tail and laughed out loud because it looked like a dick.

Seeing a small piece of rainbow over the street I take every day!

Desire paths.

Making summer rolls with peanut dip. And cooking the same dish Fricki made for me the other day: pumpkin, zucchini, thyme and feta. Delicious.

[thefemaleexperience]

answering one of those lists of questions we use to do back in 2010

if you could pierce somewhere other than your ears, where would it be? - I would like to have my nose pierced again

what are your feelings on bangs? - i love bangs and thye really suit me, though they do make me look about 8 years younger and i hate growing them out

what is your favorite blanket material? - cashmere

if you had to be sent up into space or into the depths of the ocean, where would you choose? - hm deep ocean because it really terrifies me are you afraid of death? why or why not? - no. I’m afraid of pain and terrible accidents, but the idea of actually being dead doesnt bother me what astrological sign do you think you should be? - taurus or gemini who is the worst person you have ever dated? - every one is a complex set of flaws and traits and their personality is built upon their experiences and everything that has ever happened to them, and remembering that reminds you that the way people act isnt about you personally and no-one is “bad” if you could remake one movie the way you think it should’ve been made, which movie would you choose? - The Hobbit what is a custom/activity/experience/etc from another culture that you wish would be in your culture? - last year I attended the final 2 weeks of a Yolngu (Aboriginal group from far north Australia) funeral, and the openness of grieving was really full on. it has really changed my relationship with grieving if you could choose where you were born, where would you want it to be? hm it wouldnt matter to me *where* i was born, but i wish i’d grown up somewhere where being bi.multi-lingual is the norm if someone told you they could tell you the truth about god/religion/higher powers/the universe/the meaning of life/what happens after death, would you want to know? I dont think there is a meaning to life, i dont think anything happens after death, I dont know if these are questions I have? but i guess yeah im too nosy to ever turn down the hot goss what is your favorite part of your nighttime routine? sleep doesn’t count. I use to drink this lovely lavender herbal tea every night and im just starting to drink it again what is your favorite form of exercise? I use to love running. i would run 10+ Kms on the treadmill every evening, but both my knees are fucked and i can barely jog anymore. so i guess just hiking / walking in nature

what is one current trend that you hate? cancel culture? idk. so many things annoy me...so i just dont surround myself with them. if theyre bringing other people joy who cares.  what is a trend that died that you would bring back? perms what era of fashion do you wish to bring back? 90s “tomboy” style for young girls! i love flares and 70s flowy fashion too im big on period-drama costumes  what is one movie or tv show that everyone loves that you hate? i dont like “gross” animation did you have a teacher growing up that helped you through a difficult time? who were they? A handful. My literature teacher Mrs. Campbell stand out think of a paper you have written sometime in your education. what was the topic? It’s all i do haha mostly about rethinking Aboriginal Studies and approaches to Indigenous education do you believe in universal healthcare? discuss. is that liek australia’s health care? like yes? when americans talk about how much a trip to the drs or a medical procedure cost that you would just die without????? what is one song that makes you feel like love is real? landslide - fleetwood mac what is one song that makes you feel like you’re dancing in a meadow with the sun shining on your skin? california - joni mitchell what is one song that makes you believe that things will get better? california - joni mitchell haha have you met any celebrities? if so, who? lots but whatever you’re being forced to move out of your country. you must choose another one to move to, and you may never leave it, even for vacation. what country do you choose? bonus points if you answer the city. most of my overseas trips have been fairly short holidays so i have no idea about the practicalities of lving in them / cost of living / laws etc. so this is hard but probably America, in either oregon or montana do you believe in the death penalty? discuss. no. what do you think happens after you die? your body returns to the worms. name someone you love. Geordie. name someone you like, but don’t necessarily love. Oliver. how many soulmates do you think a person has? more than 1 is love always worth it? discuss. love is good but we dont need romantic relationships to be fullfilled. love is everywhere pick up your phone. look at the text you sent closest to an hour ago. what was it? ”seems like a scam” do you believe in magical beings? discuss. no what time of the day do you feel most at peace with yourself? outdoors at 2pm what is an impulsive decision you have made that you don’t regret? to drive to Alice Springs when i was inbetween houses in 2018 if you were given the opportunity to completely start your life over from the beginning with everything prior and up until your birth remaining the same, would you? yeah. not because i regret things, it would jsut be fascinating to see the tiny miniscule things that would change things. i think about the tiny spur of the moment thigns i did when i was 12 that impacted friendships i would make and schools i would go to and how my life is still interconnected with people i met one time 15 years ago how do you feel about greek life in colleges? seems weird, culty and toxic. people say there are positives, but they dont seem to outweigh the bad in my eyes. but i dont think we really have that her in australia what is an aspect or event in history that you were obsessed with as a child? ancient egypt lol describe your ideal town to live in. I would love to move to Alice Springs. A commune is the dream what age are you scared to be? alternatively, what age were you most scared to be in the past? im truely so psyched to turn 30. do you have a secret you want to share? be as vague or specific as you want. get it out. if you want. I only have one big secret that no-body knows. do billionaires work harder than other people? discuss. fetch the guillitine  what is your favorite hairstyle for yourself? i think my mid length hairstyle of 2017 was v nice. thats when my hair naturally curls the most what is your favorite memory from being 13 years old? dear god what is a movie that shaped who you were as a person at a young age? Into the wild lol which us state would you erase if you could? not from the US so this doesnt mean anthing to me lol what is a skill you theoretically want to learn but probably never will? to be a mechanic what is an obscure language you want to speak? it’s not “obscure” but i guess only a relative small number of people speak Yolngu Matha and i would like to be fluent what is a place you choose not to go to anymore? why? lmao i avoid the northland coles (supermarket) because a dude i dated shops there and i ran into him once after id decided i didnt want to see him anymore and it was cooked do you think you’re living a fake life/putting on a facade/lying to people about who you really are? why or why not? i perpetually feel like im waiting to live the lfie i want to what is the color that defines your life?  burnt orange you have the opportunity to go to an exclusive celebrity event. which one is it? (award shows, premieres, parties, etc) i cant think of one? you can bring back one person from the dead, but you must choose someone to die in their place. who are the two people you are choosing? I would bring back Andrea Dworkin i dont know who i would kill off instead. what is your favorite fun fact that people don’t really know? idk if people dont know this but i guess it might be australia specifc But dingoes have special jointed wrists that are way different to dogs, and they can hold things, climb and open doors. pick up the nearest reading material to you (book/magazine/paper/etc). what is the first line of that reading material? lmao HOMER / The Odyssey is on my bedside table but im nto moving   if you had to choose a sport to play professionally, which one would you choose? soccer? what do you do to unwind/cool down when you’re upset? a hot hot hot bath by candle light listening to neil young what is the color scheme of your favorite sunrise or sunset? pink purple what is a beauty product you swear by? i dont wear make up but i guess eyebrow gel is cool how do you feel about plastic surgery? discuss. i hate our culture of uncritical support for it. i think the prominence of it is relly cooked. i hate that people treat it like minor / low risk when its very serious.  if you could get plastic surgery, would you? what would you change? a breast reduction cotton balls or cotton rounds? ??? what is your favorite animal product? i dont know what this means lol if you had to attend school in another country, which country would you choose? France? what will be/was the color scheme of your wedding? marriage is bad but i guess native australian flora is there something you have a really strong opinion about for basically no reason? what is it? i have basically no opinion on everything who is a person you would fight to the death for under any circumstances? no-one what would you do if you were in the hunger games? be honest. terrible? what time do you think everyone should wake up? getting into your circadian rhythm is so goooooood what is your favorite type of nut? if you’re allergic to nuts, sorry. hmm im obsessed with peanut butter but i dont really care for peanuts. i love brazel nuts what is your favorite part of your hometown? . . . uh the meth or the class gap or the conservative rural values / politics or ??? you must get rid of one of your electronic items. you have no choice. which one do you sacrifice? phone what is the first memory you have of oppression/discrimination? it doesn’t have to be about yourself. being like pre-school aged and being aware of my black cousins being spereated from their parents name 3 books you were forced to read in school. DH Lawrence novellas, which i loved No Sugar, everyone should read this The crucible, urhg so good how do you keep track of events/deadlines? calendar? agenda? your brain? having like 20 planners what is the first book that made you cry that comes to mind? i dont remember crying in a book if you had to give a seminar about something, what would it be about? abortion laws and access in rural australia how do you feel about your mother? she is good and complicated and intelligent and funny is makeup an art form? discuss. no what kind of videos do you primarily watch on youtube? ill just list my most viewed channels Daisy Lola Sarah Therese Unnatural Vegan what is the scent of your deodorant? i dont wear deoderant at what age do you hope you die? whenever