#I never did latin but I'm sure at the end of the year I will know the lyrics

[scarletfantasia]

Can we just take a moment to appreciate latin rap?

[a-student-out-of-time]

An Important Reminder In Trying Times

Hey everyone, Mod Bubbles here.

I know that I've said over and over that I don't like talking about politics on here, but I really feel the need to say this:

This Is Not The End.

I understand things probably seem really bleak right now. A lot of people are going to be hurt by this, and the sheer amount of fearmongering and worst case scenarios are inescapable. But the country and the world are not going to change overnight. To be honest, it may not change very much at all in the next four years. I'm not a political scientist, so I can't tell you that for sure. There's a lot to be concerned about.

What I can tell you, as a student of history, is this: not only have we survived this once, we have survived this every time.

Think about it this way: every single tyrant, every single right-wing representative, every single emperor and colonial power, every corporate scumbag and power-hungry lunatic. No matter how many of them have ever come to power, held onto power, and tried to make themselves seem invincible, not a single one has ever held back humanity's progress and not a single one has proven to be invincible.

There were countries throughout history, especially in the 20th century, that fell under brutal dictatorships and saw countless lives lost. Did the people just give up and accept it? Fuck no they didn't. They fought back. Many of them lived to see democracy restored to their lands in their lifetimes, or fought to see it restored in their children's.

From Europe to Latin America, while many countries still have their issues, they endured and their people have survived. Their governments were not invincible, just as none ever have been.

Regardless of the outcome of this election, the world will go on. People will not just roll over and accept whatever horrible things happen, the fight will continue and we will do everything in our power to carry on as we always have. We'll carry on to achieve bigger and better things.

Let me also be clear: if you feel the need to cry, please cry. If you're afraid, don't pretend you're not. If you're angry, allow yourself to feel that anger. But if you're seriously contemplating giving up or hurting yourself, please don't.

You may hear all this news and ask yourself, "Bubbles, what's the point? What can I do about all this?" I've felt that way too, I have for a long time. I understand completely. It's scary and overwhelming, but I'll tell you exactly what you can do to fight against that: you can be kind.

Do you want to know where the most tangible change in the world begins? It's never at the top. It begins with people like us on a communal level, where we reach out to help others. Whether that means we help our neighbors, our friends, or any strangers we can.

Going out of your way to start fights, looking for someone to blame based on the flimsiest justifications, and just being cruel because you're angry, those aren't how you change anything. Those just add to the problem.

Here's just some ideas on what you can do instead:

Get away from the news, stop doomscrolling, mute doomers, and turn the TV and news apps off. This will get you out of a negative feedback loop that'll make you feel worse and more powerless, which is what they're designed to do in order to maximize traffic.

Remember to eat, sleep, brush your teeth, take a shower, take your meds, and do everything else you need to do to stay healthy.

If you or someone else really feel like leaving the country for your own safety is best, you can still work do so. But please don't convince yourself that if you can't, it's over.

Give back to people as much as you can. Show the people in your life who support you that you care, and that all that they do for you matters.

Donate to good causes you believe in.

Stand up to bullshit whenever you see it.

Do not give up on your dreams and ambitions. One bad leader does not mean your future automatically ends. Stop worrying about any potential apocalypse in the future, because you can do that even on the best days, and instead work toward a future that you CAN achieve.

There's this pervasive and very inaccurate idea that it's only the president who gets to enforce policies on the country. This ignores governors, the House of Representatives, Congress, mayors, and the countless other leaders involved. And it ignores you.

You do not have to spend the next 3 years and 364 days doing nothing but feeling miserable. In fact, that's the last thing you should do. Fear and despair are the weapons they wield, and they only have as much power as you allow them to have over you.

If your view of politics is that you just have to vote for the "right one" and then everything will be utopian, or that if people vote for the wrong one" then we're headed for a terrible dystopian nightmare, I have to tell you that that is incredibly reductionist and also very dumb. I can also tell you from personal experience that it's not them who make the real changes where it's needed.

A friend sent me a video that really opened my eyes on this situation: Adam Conover, the guy behind Adam Ruins Everything, said he's not worried about all this. Why? Because he and some friends were able, through their own power, to make real positive changes in their community. They were able to bring homelessness down in their district by over 38% through their own efforts.

And he's right that, as a silver lining to all this, it made more Americans than ever take a stand against all the horrible shit they were seeing and get involved with solutions.

Speaking from my own experiences as well, when Hurricane Helene devastated my area, it wasn't the politicians who came and repaired roads and power lines, it wasn't them who brought in food and supplies to everyone, and it wasn't them who worked tirelessly to save people still in need. It was everyone in our local communities.

The people at the top have never really cared about anything more than your money and your vote, but the people around you care more than you may believe they would. Hell, even strangers on the internet care more than you'd believe.

Now, even if you've made it this far, you may be wondering "What about when he starts outlawing and banning things?" To that, I say look at Prohibition and see how well that went. Politicians have only ever operated under the idea that banning something will make it go away, and it always does the exact opposite. And if you're still worried, you can get involved with organizations that fight to support these things being available and regulated.

But by now, you may also be wondering "What if I can't get involved? What if I'm too young or I don't have the money, or my parents won't let me?"

Then just be kind.

Stop looking for enemies to blame. Don't martyr yourself for some nebulous cause or the idea that your suffering increasing means the rest of the suffering in the world will go down. Don't torture yourself by telling yourself that you didn't do enough.

Show compassion, show support, show love and genuine care toward people who need it, including yourself.

"But there's so many shitty people in this country and the world, why should I-" Stop thinking that way. This isn't about them, this is about you and how you can make a difference. There will probably always be shitheads and power-hungry morons, but that does not negate the fact that you can choose to be different. You can choose to be kind.

Kindness is a sword that you have to learn how to wield. Wield it responsibly and use it to help others. No matter how small or insignificant it may be, YOU DO MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

I say all this as a 29-year-old who spent most of his life feeling scared and miserable about so many current events, convincing myself I'm useless and selfish because I was worried about so much and I hated myself for all of it. And I've decide I'm not going to do that anymore.

During the last right-wing era, I managed to help build a whole community out of my love for Danganronpa. I created friendships, relationships, and there are people alive right now because I chose to do so. Because I chose to use that community for kindness. I want to keep building from there by going into streaming and reaching out to more people.

I won't lie to you and say that I'm not scared, because I am. But I'm also not going to let fear change who I am. I want us all to be better to ourselves and others, because that is how you defeat hate. It starts with you.

And if you're still concerned, let me share with you a quote from The Great Dictator, a movie made in 1940, when World War II wasn't even at its height yet:

To those who can hear me, I say - do not despair. The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed - the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass, and dictators die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people. And so long as men die, liberty will never perish…

Please take care of yourselves out there, everyone. We'll get through this, just as we always have.

[vermilionsun]

Okay, so we basically know very little/nothing, but I compiled everything I could find here :)

TW for religius themes [?]

Strap in

First of all, we know two definite Gods: the Allmother and Ocudeus.

The Allmother seems to be a benevolent deity that protects her believers. We can assume that since mr. Chocky was wishing upon her for mercy during the Soulless’ attack on the caravan and he was the only one not dying at that point (The Soulless kills him only after the MC’s curse has taken control of him).

Plus, the (Oracle! has the extra —[text]—) MC comments:

Is she the one who made the Soulless kill the traveller to save the MC? And cut their arms off to end their misery? Could she be protecting them?

Or did she not want her subject [the traveller] to suffer due to the MC's curse?

Was everything random and out of her control?

And that's basically everything we know about the Allmother.

Then we have Ocudeus. This ancient motherfucker— I had to rewind the damn game for this tentacle bitch again.

Anyway, we know he's the ancient, eldritch being Ais has formed a pact with" that gives him "borrowed, unnerving abilities."

Also, it is suspected that its name is likely from Latin oculus and deus ("eye" and "god") + that "Ocu" also means water in Betoi.

Now, onto the funny stuff: (Oracle!MC is the only one who comments on these)

The MC can hear a heartbeat the moment they step out of Kuras' clinic

And it gets louder the closer they get to the Seaspring

The MC can literally feel Ocudeus watching them from the Seaspring. What's interesting is that they find it familiar

Ais warns the MC about "ruining the host's mood" [Could be interpreted as: "I'm (Ais) nice, but you don't want to ruin the host's (Ocudeus, who propably lives in the waters of the Seaspring) mood (by asking questions regarding its power and questioning its dominance/control over me)] — As if Ocudeus itself invited them over; that would explain how that lady knew the MC's name:

Either Ocudeus wanted to see them or it wanted to be fed tea leaves by Ais and felt it was nescessary to brought someone over for Ais to clean the damn temple once in a whie—

IN REGARDS TO AIS' RELATIONSHIP WITH OCUDEUS

The MC's eyes always return to the mark, and only explanation left is that it was made by Ocudeus

WAIT. Pause and backtract to the Seaspring

Let's break them down:

1. The topmost

2. The closest one

3. The bottommost

"ucly dpzo vu h zovvapun zahy ol'z hsdhfz spzalupun." - Both with Affine [A=1, B=7] and Mono-alphabetic Substitution (+10 other cyphers) it's the same message: NEVER WISH ON A SHOOTING STAR HE'S ALWAYS LISTENING

Since the notes are left there by people who have evidently drank from the Seaspring (“If you see me, never speak to me,” etc) I will take a wild guess and assume the bottomest note is Ais’ last moments before Ocudeus merged with him.

And also this ties with the whole “Ocudeus is a fallen god” (“shooting/fallen star”) who left the Shroud ignorant about the world beyond and ended up landing to Eridia

"A river bisects Eridia into two distinct halves: the flood-eroded districts of Lowtown, and the elevated, gilded city of Hightown." — Eridia's a river city and Ocudeus is a giant fucking octopus.

ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵖᵒˢˢᶦᵇˡʸ ᵍᵒ ʷʳᵒⁿᵍˀ :⁾⁾

What I find interesting though is that if the note is truly by Ais, he mentions mirrors and eyes. He must have been trying to hide from something—Ocudeus or another deity?—that “knew what he did,” and let Ocudeus overtake him as a last resort, perhaps.

BUT WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH THE MIRRORS?!?!?!

THERE IS NOT ONE (1) MIRROR IN THE WHOLE DEMO. NOR IN THE PROMOS. NOT ONE. [unless I'm blind]

Sure, it could be the surface of the water and the whole thing is metaphoricall but it bugs me so muchhhhh

kuras Kuras KURAS KURAS KURAS KURAS

Recently, it was revealed that he, indeed, came out of the Shroud THOUSANDS OF YEARS BEFORE THE FOGFALL OCCURED

And I bring you a background issue:

"An angel is a heavenly supernatural or spiritual being. In monotheistic belief-systems, such beings are under service of the supreme deity (i.e. God)."

Is he autonomous or does he worship a god? And if so, WHICH GOD?!

Perhaps, and take that with a grain of salt, perhaps Allmother

[Does anyone see a pattern? 'Cause I do]

What if Kuras' greatest sin was leaving the Shroud?

Kuras came through the Shroud because he loved humanity. He's had human friends, colleagues, and lovers...

Their incorporeal spirits take physical form, strengthening some and weakening others. The longer they spend in the human world, the better they adapt.

Kuras loved humanity so much he up and left the Shroud and gifted humans all the knowledge he possessed. He risked his power - perhaps his life - as he travelled through.

And so I ask you; Is that his biggest regret? Him loving humans to the extend of abandoning the Shroud and his creator for a life of teaching them, only for his efforts to result in "trinkets, pleasure, and petty tyranny"?

And lastly, Vere

I want you to keep an open mind with this

We know from his character lore that

"Centuries ago, the Senobium bound a wicked beast with a magic collar, sealing his powers and forcing his obedience."

and we know Vere has lived for over a century

BUT THE THING IS: ancient ≠ century [also mentioned here]

WHAT IF

"Seems we're both cursed"

What if Vere used to be human and attempted to take the ancient beast's power [remember, his fatal flaw: "Lusts for power, no matter the consequences"]

He obviously succeeded and became what he is now, while simultaniously getting chained for one reason or another;

The Senobium obviously sees him as a threat but uses him for his abilities anyways

Prehaps he couldn't control the power he gained?

He could have been a theif wanting a better life, like the Hound!MC

He could have been affiliated with the Senobium in another way before

But we know one thing for sure:

He, too, was betrayed and caused havoc unintentionally

Perhaps in regard to the beast's powers?

[thornsofthefuture]

an interview with razorz of EPILEPTICS — a talk about music, molly and life

today, we had the honor to interview razorz, the frontperson of EPILEPTICS, once a witch-house & electronic band, now a reggaeton, post-hardcore & rave one-person project. EPILEPTICS has been in the industry since 2013. the band quickly gained popularity because of the self-titled LP released through the YOUTH 1984 label. the LP has been adored by fans of the witch-house & electronic genre. songs like Esoteric, Heroin Chic and Carpathian hit the charts, making EPILEPTICS a legend and a huge influence in the international Witch House scene, along with their chaotic live shows and then-elusive personas, setting the blueprint of aesthetic and sound for many bands and artists to come.

[this interview includes explicit content & mentions of self harm. some viewers might find this content triggering. proceed with caution.]

thorns of the future: first question: how did you find out that you wanted to be a music producer?

razorz: Out of necessity, I was 15-16 playing in black metal, crust and grindcore bands, I always realized that I was the only one writing songs and throwing ideas. When me and Amanda Failure started EPILEPTICS, we had no idea how to do electronic music, I read somewhere about this software "Reason 4". I cracked a copy and started messing with it, I was amazed that you could do music, an entire song on a laptop, a 2008 HP mini to be precise, we came from the world of guitars, amps, pedals and drums, we couldn't believe it. Now I do records and remixes for other people and I can tell you 100% that I'm not sure of what I am doing, I can't let other people do my songs cause I am very specific with everything, only a couple of occassions this has happened, MYKKA from Argentina, a superstar prod. she produced for Bad Bunny, Duki, Bhavi, Ysy A, and a bunch of other important people and she made some of the heaviest, nastiest dubstep ever before that, she has legit Gold Records and is one of the top producers from Latin America, so she made the beat for Suicide Season because I bugged her for a year and she thought that EPLPTCS was kinda cool and weird and SVGAWA (Ukrainian Witch House rockstar) a brother to me is the only person on earth that reads my mind and knows what I want, they are the 2 only people who have made beats for me, I became a producer but that was never the goal, when we started I did not even know what a producer was.

thorns of the future: tell us about the craziest person you've ever seen in the crowd during your live show.

razorz: On a festival in Moscow 2018 there was this girl and a dude that tried god-knows whatever designer drug and they were on the floor, could not move their legs or talk but they were moving their torsos to the music, they were in the back and I was impressed how unphased everybody was, like "hey, I think these guys are dying" and nobody gave a shit, here in Mexico in like 2017 some girls and dudes showed up with mutilated arms to the front row and I used to cut myself on some shows if I had a vibe going on, at Station Hall in Moscow I stagedived at the end with wounds open in the arms and some girl I believe licked them at the stagedive, that was crazy, after me, King Plague was gonna DJ and she refused to until the stage was cleaned up, I left it full of blood, that's the dumb stuff I was doing at the time, when I saw that followers of the band were destroying themselves from us openly encouraging the use of drugs and self mutilation, I stopped with that, a couple of people I really cared about actually died from that, there was this infectious "bug" on tours that was not healthy for anybody, we were dangerous to ourselves and the people around us, but that's the past.

thorns of the future: what were your thoughts during your first ever live show?

razorz: As EPILEPTICS? I was very nervous because Failure got in trouble and couldn't make it to the show but I didn't know, I played at like 3am at this indie little festival in a hall in here, a girl complained it was too noisy and it was hurting her ears, there is video of that show, gonna upload it to YouTube and about Failure, days later she answered the phone and turns out she was caught  drunk driving that evening so her parents were getting her out of detention that night, I barely remember it, I was coked out of my mind and drinking anisette on that one, but I had played a bunch of metal/punk shows before EPLPTCS which are the worst, after coming from those scenes you are 120% bulletproof to anything, nothing is worse than those shows, you work and play your ass off for nothing in the tiniest places in the worst conditions with the worst crowds.

thorns of the future: what made you switch from electronic music to your current genre?

razorz: We never intended to be a Witch House band, we just wanted to blend what Salem and Glass Teeth were doing with UK rave music and jungle, we were "adopted" and thrown in the bunch by the people and we are grateful for that, I see the impact now that us and the Russian bands and prods had on the current musical landscape, we were a bunch of angsty teenagers that just wanted to unleash. Anyway I lived the Witch House thing to the fullest, I played all the fests, met everybody, got signed twice and made money, I was in Russia when Witch House was mainstream music there, you would walk into a Bershka store and they were playing Crossparty, it was not underground at all, in Spain it was a big deal as well, before Sidewalks toured the circuit, before Crim3s, I did, I saw it and we all knew it was gonna end eventually, everybody was living the lifestyle, everybody was running out of ideas and americans put the final nail in the coffin of Witch House with their stupid songs about ghosts, terror and daft shit like that, around 2019 the scene was dead worldwide and you can ask anybody who was there, Dann K left the band and it was only me now, I always hated rap music but we were played on Mexican radio a legendary station in here called Reactor 105, they believed in us and played our songs, one day I was listening and Bring the Noize by M.I.A. came up, I was floored, I could not believe the sound of that, so I started listening more, started to consume UK grime, weird ethnic stuff like kuduro (it's a music genre) and soundsystems, reggaeton was huge in here always and at that time there were this really dense/heavy loud af tracks coming from South America along with the trap scene from Argentina and I was into that as well, I needed a rebranding of everything and now I was gonna front so I did "lost u" which is a monster witch pop song as a goodbye for the "Version 1" of the band, plus me being razorz and EPILEPTICS being pretty much my life for 5 years at that point, I was not 18 anymore and you have to think like "I guess this is what I am gonna do, so I need to be more commercial" and at that time I was partying a lot and liking commercial af music and seemed reachable so I went for the full selling out if you will and I don't regret it at all, underground is not fun.

thorns of the future: how old were you when you first started making music?

razorz: I always played music, my mum is a huge music fan, she was an 80's goth and she also liked metal so I got my 1st drumkit when I was 3, then a guitar at 6, she was very supportive, my dad didn't really care, I never learned theory, so I would play CDs and learn from there, my first song I'd say I was 12 (?) it was some sort of a Carcass death metal song. So it went from there, there is this ultra depressive neoclassical autumn vibes piano/acoustic guitar project called 'Bläire' (which was my pseudonym in black metal bands I played in) I recorded it alone in my bedroom when I was like 15, it was supposed to come out on cassette on a Finnish black metal label but it closed 2 weeks before the release and that broke me so I put a couple of those tracks as hidden tracks on the 1st and 2nd EPILEPTICS records (Autumnal Black Metal Tape and Santander respectively) I will eventually put that whole EP myself on Spotify.

thorns of the future: who's your biggest inspiration?

razorz: Way too many people to mention, but Liam Howlett (The Prodigy), Skrillex (who I was a fan of since From First to Last) and Ethan Kath (him exclusively, fuck that other person in that band) made it seem realistic cause they were punky guys like me. Nowadays I get inspired by anything, many people wouldn't believe all the shit I listen to, all over the place.

thorns of the future: what's your favourite song that you produced?

razorz: I am very proud of Nadia Comaneci, that song took me 2 years to write when I was homeless (by choice) and on meth, it encapsulates the hate, actually becoming insane and paranoia like no other song, it has this totally incoherent lyrics that range from violence and death to school shootings, me being Hannah Montana, killing police officers, killing rock music, La Santa Muerte, asexuality as a way of living, suicide, life in the 3rd world, anti materialism, etc. 2 minutes, all of that in 2 fucking minutes, the music video is just a masterpiece too, that the director (Conejo Roto) envisioned, very disturbing and grotesque but not in the obvious way, I love it and its like 4 different music genres squeezed in 2 minutes, again: awesome, it's like a manifesto.

thorns of the future: tell us how you start the process of making music.

razorz: Listening to music, and just observing life, I can be listening to Britney and Kylie Minogue and steal a vocal melody from them, then maybe a drum pattern from Diplo and then a guitar lead part from old Bloc Party, The Kills or The Libertines and a synth from 100gecs and then a flow and snare from a Favela Funk song, or a figure from a riff from Darkthrone, my way of writing music is straight up stealing parts of songs from totally opposite genres and mashing them together, it is rare that a song comes to my head but sometimes that happens.

thorns of the future: how did you come up with the name for your band?

razorz: I have a cousin that was diagnosed with epilepsy that I didnt see often back when we started the band, he had a seizure and I was alone with him at our grandma's house, he had this fucked up convulsion and I was alone with him, his eyes went blank and his mouth was tweaking bad, I told Failure about it and she had a crush on Ian from Joy Division (lame) who was an epileptic too, so she named the band, I thought it was a stupid name and I still hate it, we released 'Esoteric' like weeks later and we kicked the Witch House/rave scene along with the russians and it became this minor hit in a matter of days so we couldn't change it, I still hate the name and think it is silly as fuck, almost 10 years still bothers me.

thorns of the future: what would you like to say to your fans?

razorz: I hate the word fans, I like calling them friends, I'd like to tell them to not have kids, that's the best advice I can give and to never listen to anybody, live your fucking lives however you want.

thorns of the future: what's your favourite drug and why?

razorz: I'm gonna go with molly, I had some of the best times of my life on that one and I did lots of music discovery with my then best friend Axl, we would do tons of molly, not eat for a week and just listen to music nonstop, Dann K. (vocalist/synths on The Sun Hurts My Eyes) got me into shooting coke right in the fucking neck for a bit but it was too awesome so I stopped and went to regular snorting I guess, I have a permanent damage on my palate from doing so much coke for years.

thorns of the future: is there a religion you hate most?

razorz: Oh man... haha anything that involves bombing, cowardly unaliving kids in other countries and treating women like garbage, not gonna name it but I think everybody with a braincell will know what I'm talking about.

thorns of the future: your most unliked subculture is…

razorz: Punks, fucking losers, lame mediocre, miserable people who like to pretend they live in 1985, metalheads too, are pretty stupid and childish and anybody who is playing glam music or trying to be Guns N' Roses in 2024 is amusing to me, oh djent is pretty fucking lame too.

thorns of the future: tell us your least liked artist - is it because of their music or their personality?

razorz: Gonna name a few in no particular order: XXXTentacion, Lil Peep, Arca bothers the shit out of me, mediocre techno, this Sarah Landry bitch who plays "hard techno" which is just a kick loop going on for 3 hrs what's that shit about? Nobody likes it but fucking dunces pretend to like it cause it's "cool", Nina Kraviz, dumb fuck thinking she is modeling while DJing, this stupid pop punk revival bands talking about pizza and smelling their mothers ass they are even doing that here in Mexico, it is insulting, bunch of fucking sons of rich privileged idiots, My Chemical Romance, Tool, 98% of American Witch House talking about ghosts and Halloween and shit lmao, post-2013 Grimes (hung out with her in 2016 and she was annoying as fuck) K pop boybands and girlbands, lame electronic like Porter Robinson, that BLAND stupid disco shit that Daft Punk did, white people acting black, Machine Gun Kelly, DJs who have girls twerking at their sets piss me off beyond belief, Drake is one of the softest and most pathetic individuals to ever put music out, etc man, my hate is unlimited and I have chilled out a lot. Honorable mention to this dumb fuck Anyma, he was Grimes' boyfriend or something, that instead of playing MUSIC he just puts this dumbass lame visuals on his shows, J Balvin and Maluma along with all that soft reggaeton pop bullshit is pretty embarrasing as well, they think us mexicans LOVE that garbage and we don't.

thorns of the future: what's the riskiest thing you've ever done?

razorz: For my own security I can't talk much about it but I am amazed that I was not killed, that I never had a fatal overdose and that I am not in prison talking to you today, whatever you think I've done multiply that by 10 and you will be kind of close, I lived the street life to the max when I was a meth addict and I don't like all this people around the world rapping or singing about it like it's cool cause it's not, the fear of police, paranoia, the nothing, hearing voices and seeing things that are not there, the cold, the "I don't know if I'm gonna come back alive from this one" or going to a free clinic to check if you have AIDS are things I do not miss at all.

we would like to thank razorz of EPILEPTICS for answering all of our questions. we really appreciate you. that's all for now.

images & videos: razorz

spotify:

EPILEPTICS: https://open.spotify.com/artist/20KlxRilj2aFPUDjglUebT

razorz: https://open.spotify.com/artist/3AvvaBzMypsd6UYoE3aNBF

instagram:

EPILEPTICS: https://www.instagram.com/epileptix/

razorz: https://www.instagram.com/r4z0rz/

hyperfollow: https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/epileptics

[youwouldntlietopapa]

for the kiss prompts, could you please do

pulling away and looking at each other with eyes full of love w/copia pls?

omg I'm so sorry this took fucking AGES. But here it is!

Contains: Copia x Reader, fluff, just... all the fluff. So much fluff. Basically straight up cotton candy.

___________________________________________________________

Over the last few months, it had become routine, starting with a simple suggestion of going for a walk. Copia’s day had been spent in the dimly lit archives, hunched over a stack of very boring books looking for information he couldn’t actually be certain was even there. By the time he’d found you, waiting for him in your usual reading spot in the gardens, he looked like he’d aged ten years since breakfast. Hunched over and a bit haunted, squinting at the late afternoon sun. A walk to clear his head, maybe feel a little more human sounded like a good idea. He’d grumbled at first but, walking around the calm water of the pond, in the dappled shade of the forest, he had to admit it was nice. From there, it had become a nightly occurrence, one that you valued deeply. A slow, relaxing stroll, a little peace and quiet, a little talking about your respective days, and one of his favourite things, unremarkable as it sounded, holding hands.

It seemed like such a small act of intimacy to be so excited about, and maybe that was just it. Those everyday, uncomplicated acts of love. That silent public expression of need and desire. Not enough to simply walk by your side but to reach out and hold on to you tightly. To be held in return. Your fingers laced through his, his thumb circling softly over your skin. The only time during his day that you’d ever seen him take his gloves off. Copia smiled the same each time, the small private smile that made his eyes crinkle and glitter that he reserved for moments when he was happiest and content.

Through the end of summer and into the autumn, after he’d finished for the day and finally having a reason not to stay much later than required, he’d meet you at your reading spot and off you’d go. Taking the time to enjoy the changing of the leaves and crunching them underfoot as they started to fall. Resting your head on his shoulder and listening him talk about the frustrations of his day - troublesome clergy, his own family - while they drifted, one by one, away on the breeze leaving him looking refreshed. His shoulders relaxing and the sound of his breathing so much freer. Until he’d relaxed enough to find some place comfortable to stop a few minutes and sit, enjoy the evening sun and the stillness of the pond.

The days, however, began to grow short and the temperatures dropped, as they always do. Autumn gave way to winter, bringing the snow with it. Not that it stopped the evening walks. But it did make walking hand in hand a little less comfortable than either of you would have liked. It wasn’t long before the cold meant Copia needed to keep his gloves on and you were wearing a pair of your own. Not really the end of the world, but it was hard to miss the look of disappointment on his face every time it was too cold to even bother trying. He never said it out loud or complained, but you knew him too well not to see it.

It was a problem that had a solution. That much you were sure of. By the beginning of November, you found one. By mid-November, it was ready. So, the next day, when Copia wandered out to find you at your regular place, you were ready with a small box black box tied up with ribbon that marched his cassock.

Stepping outside, the fog of his warm breath makes his heavy sigh a visual experience as well. Copia catches sight of you and smiles brightly, even if his eyes have that look about them that only comes from spending a day translating dusty old latin books in a poorly lit basement.

“Cara mia, you torment me so today.” He teases, walking toward you.

“Me?” You laugh. “What have I done?”

He clicks his tongue and wags a finger at you. “You, bellissima, have been haunting my every thought all day long.”

How he manages to be both completely charming and dorky all at once remains a mystery, and all you can do is laugh. “Forgive me, Cardinal. I will work very hard on doing better in future. I would hate to think that you missed out on such fun ministerial duties for even a moment on my account.”

Copia drops into the seat next to you, cupping your cold cheek in the soft warmth of his leather glove, and kissing you slow and deeply. “Don’t you dare.”

You steal another kiss and speak softly, lips brushing against his. “Oh? Then how may I serve you better, Cardinal?”

“Stop leaving me with my daydreams and let me actually touch you.” His mismatched eyes stare back into your own making you feel more seen than anyone has ever made you feel.

“All you needed to do was ask.”

His hand reaches for yours without looking, Copia’s attention faltering when he finds the corner of the box in your hands instead. Pulling away enough to look down, he quirks an eyebrow. “What is this, amore? Someone leaves you presents? You know I can be very jealous.”

You chuckle and hold it out for him. “Nothing to be jealous of. It’s not for me. It’s for you.”

His eyes light up and his whole face transforms just at the thought, turning immediately into an excited child. Taking the package carefully, he turns it in his hands, inspecting a little, trying to guess what it could possibly be. “For me? You don’t joke with me? It’s not my birthday, tesoro. And the Solstice, yule, all the celebrations are still a way off. I know, because I have to do the bookkeeping and to explain to Terzo again that there is a budget.”

“Who said I need a special occasion to get you something?” It’s hard to get him to accept, as someone who didn’t grow up getting any frivolous gifts or special little treats just because. But, at very least, he’s gotten used to it enough not to cry. “I should warn you, it’s a very silly present. I just hope you like it.”

“I can open now?” Copia looks up at you eagerly, but waiting for permission.

“Of course! Please do.” You grin.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Tugging the bow loose and setting it aside, he opens the box and stares inside for a long moment looking quite a bit like a confused puppy.

“Eh… I love it, amore! But… eh…. What is it?” Copia looks up at you a bit sheepishly.

You giggle, looking into the box yourself. Inside, there is a pair of knitted mittens in a soft black wool with a grucifix worked in red on each to mirror his leather gloves. Between them, however, there is what appears to be a third… almost mitten. One with two oddly placed cuffs and no thumb.

“I think it would be easier to show you.” Plucking the mystery gift from the box, you tap his hand closest to you. “Will you take your glove off for me?”

He doesn’t look any more certain of what you’re talking about, but he’s happy enough to comply. Watching you closely as you demonstrate. One cuff slips over your hand like putting on any other mitten. The other cuff you hold out for him.

“Now you.”

Copia’s head tilts to the side as he tries to piece it together, his face suddenly lighting up with the realisation. He quickly stuffs his hand into the open cuff and entwines his chilled fingers with yours, savouring how the warmth starts rushing back with you to hold onto.

“You’ve been so sad that it’s been too cold to hold hands properly on our walks. I thought there must be something I could do. And then I found this pattern.”

His eyes get wider. “You made this? For me?”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not perfect and it’s really just a silly thing. I only wan-”

You’re already blushing and you can hear yourself starting to ramble, panicking that it was a foolish idea, when he cuts you off with a kiss. His hand holding yours, squeezing a little tighter, and his free hand slipping into your hair and pulling you closer.

“You make all this for me, because I am sad. Si? Not because I ask, but because you think of me.” Copia whispers against your lips, looking at you with the unshakable certainty he often finds hard to hold on to but not right then. “È perfetto. Tu sei perfetto. Grazie, angelo mio.”

“I just wanted to see you smile. And I like the way your hand feels in mine.” You nudge your nose against his, smiling warmly.

His hand tightens just a little in your hair, and he kisses you again. In a way that makes the cold air feel warmer and the entire world shrink down to just the two of you. In a way that makes you wonder if this might mean you’re going to break your months long walking streak. In a way that makes you certain you are the luckiest person in the world.

“Ti amo tanto. Più di quello che posso dire.” Copia presses his forehead to yours, saying the words that his expression is screaming.

You look back at him, the same expression mirrored back. Your fingers tracing his jaw.

“Ti amo di più.”

______________________________________________________

È perfetto. Tu sei perfetto. Grazie, angelo mio. - It's perfect. You're perfect. Thank you, my angel.

Ti amo tanto. Più di quello che posso dire. - I love you so much. More than I can say.

Ti amo di più. - I love you more

[imaginaenespanol]

Childhood Kid!Michael Myers x Kid!Latin!reader

Plot: You and your family are immigrants from a Latin American country. Thanks to your dad's opportunity at his job, they come to Hanonfield USA, you meet the kid Michael Myers and they become friends because of your strange way of speaking Other idiom and persistence in wanting to be his friend, they spend 4 years together in various situations, while he falls in love with you, you are his only happiness. What happened in those years before that fateful Halloween?

Words: 1470

Warning: (y/n) being innocent and falling for little Michael's dark plans...

Notes : YEEEESSSSS, I finished the first semester of this year of university and the inspiration came suddenly, more words, a mini development arc, I hope you enjoy this!

Chapters: (1),(2), (3),(x)

Chapter 4: Do you want to ruin love with me?

Monday February 7, 2002

A few weeks have passed in which Michael and (Y/N) have interacted more comfortably and become closer than at the beginning, of course, (Y/N) has not stopped being someone with a lot of energy when seeing new things, while the blond boy considers that little voice somewhat annoying, it is not because he dislikes it, rather he has not wanted to attract the attention of the Bullies, he always ends up in the direction or if there are blows included, he ends up suspended, and the scolding at home is not very pleasant So let's say, things have been tense there and Michael is breeding a little bit of negativity inside him, if it wasn't for (Y/N), he would have put his full attention on it with no distractions.

They were both in a small park after school, they both agreed not to go home so late and enjoy the afternoon —I'm telling you! In my country they don't celebrate February 14 as enthusiastically as they do here, and that's 1 week away—  (Y/N) was casually telling his friend about the upcoming date.

Michael shrugged indifferently, he's never had someone special to give something to, he was the outcast, he only had his mother but there was also a special date for that and certainly his older sister doesn't care —I'm not interested in those dates , they are for fools— The boy quietly put his hands in his pockets.

—Hey, it's not for fools, my mom says you should give something to someone in particular, it's not necessarily someone you like, tell me— She looked curiously with those big eyes and an impulsive question crossed her mind.

—Is there someone you love?— Myers abruptly raised an eyebrow at the girl's question, why did she suddenly change the subject? that girl... although he stopped for a moment and looked at her, what was that on her chest when he thought of...? The boy frantically shook his head before his cheeks betrayed him.

—Meh, I don't have, I can stand you, I don't want a headache with something silly— He said mockingly with a mischievous face, to which (Y/N) frowned and put his hands on his waist in a indignant gesture after Michael scoffed that she was a pain in the ass

—What do you mean!? You're the fool,— she said defensively as they began to run.

Michael couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction. He loved to make her angry just to see the funny faces he would make of her with her little face.

—Am I the fool?— You're the one who doesn't stop talking about cheesy things like Valentine's Day, — he replied sarcastically.

—It's not cheesy!— It's a special date to give something to someone you care about—replied (Y/N) frowning more.

—Yeah, sure, it's very important to silly girls like you,— Michael sneered, and before she could reply, he ran off laughing.

—Michael!— Come here!— she yelled (Y/N) and started running after him, both zigzagging between the trees of the park.

Michael turned from time to time to check that he was being followed and laugh more heartily. He was fascinated by the way they seemed to challenge and chase each other like two mischievous childhood friends.

Finally, tired of running, (Y/N) stopped and sat down on the grass to catch her breath. Michael returned and sat down next to her, a smirk still on his lips.

—You're a cheater,— she said (Y/N) giving him a small tap on her shoulder.

—You're a bad loser,— Michael replied, and they both burst out laughing, unable to maintain the angry facade any longer.

—Well, well, then... Shall we ruin that day? I mean... if that celebration is so silly for you— (Y/N) said amused, the boy's influence was slowly making her do more daring or unimaginable things for her Although she did not deny that this was more fun than following the orders of her parents or older brothers, she observed the amused face of the blond boy, he had a face of complicity.

—Wow, you're more evil than you look!— Michael said jokingly, but they both started walking home, Michael planned many ideas in which to prank others, things...somewhat creepy, but he wanted approval of (Y/N)

—Every day after class... we'll go to my room to plan to ruin that day, whether you like it or not, understood?— Myers suddenly said and with a happy smile, the little girl nodded.

—Hey, I was the one who suggested that, don't take all the credit— (Y/N) she said in protest, her leadership change annoyed her, but Myers ignored her

—Come on, my ideas are better, or did you want to do that with your scary baby ideas?— He annoyed her knowing her reaction

—I'm not a scared baby! I'm in the plan!— She said firmly as she hit his shoulder to show her strength, not because she was a girl was she going to back down from a challenge 

—But...— (Y/N) said suddenly —Let it be a secret… I don't want my family to find out, it could ruin things— The young woman mentioned when they reached the front of the Myers house

 —Calm down, crying baby, it will be our secret— He said, moving away from her, entering his house, listening the screams of the young

—I'm not a crybaby! I saved you from the bullies, Michael!— She said indignantly as she went to her own house, but inside she was happy. What does it matter if he wasn't interested in the 14th of February? After all, she will have a good time and finally she has a secret of friends, which made her feel excited.

She quickly got to her room after being stopped by her mother and doing the same routine as always. Maybe if she brought a couple of ideas tomorrow afternoon, they could be useful, after all, that's what friends do right? .

Meanwhile, Michael Myers saw his mother conversing on the phone with a man very sweetly ignoring the greeting he gave his mother, he frowned and ran quickly to his room, the gears began to work in his mind and he had planned some how many things, include guts and blood, maybe you would get it with some forest animals, or you can also cut some things up and wrap them in packages!, there are so many ideas that he immediately went to work more enthusiastically than before, Al finally he was not alone! there is someone else with whom you are encouraged to do these things. A little smile crossed his face when he thought of that “annoying” girl, at last he didn't feel alone at school...

Suddenly he heard a knock on the door of his room 

—Hey!, you look more enthusiastic, Mike, a declaration of love?— She was Michael's older sister, he frowned when he felt that she interrupted his thoughts

—Leave me alone!— Michael said angrily to his sister when he knocked on the door and she only answered him between laughs and jeers until he kicked her out of his room, going back to what he had, he focused again on his plans to ruin Valentine's Day.

He was excited that someone wanted to join in on his antics, especially (Y/N). Although he didn't like the kitsch of that day, he was intrigued to plan something together, it was the first time someone wanted to do something like that with him and they didn't accuse him with adults.

The next day, he waited for (Y/N) after school. She approached excitedly. —Hello Michael, I already have some ideas,— she said smiling. He nodded. —Let's go to my house, my mom is not here, she went out with another man— He said something annoyed, but he quickly recovered and they ran without rest.

Once in Michael's room, (Y/N) pulled out the ideas she had written down. He frowned as he read them and kept from rolling his eyes in annoyance. —They're too soft,— he complained. —I told you I have better plans.—

—I know, but… — (Y/N) hesitated. Michael was beginning to lose patience.

—Come on, trust me. We will ruin that day like never before— Michael said with a crooked smile that (Y/N) found a little scary. She nodded slowly.

Michael proceeded to explain her sadistic plans: wrapping nasty things as gifts, scattering red paint down the halls, even trapping animals to put in lockers. (Y/N) listened to him with wide eyes, those plans went beyond innocent pranks. But she had already agreed to join Michael, she didn't want to look like a coward, plus she has always been true to her promises, no matter what. She with false emotion she said: —I'm in, we'll make those plans.—

Michael smirked. Both shook hands sealing their alliance...

[vivitalks]

like a burst of technicolor in a world of black and white

for the prompt "painting nails" on my @jasico-challenges bingo card. guys i am really having fun with this bingo thing have yall heard about this. this shit rules anyway imagine an AU where trials of apollo is a collective hallucination we all experienced and then decided never to speak of again. and instead jason stayed at CHB after the showdown w gaea. okay you are now prepared for the events of this fic xoxo

title from extraordinary magic by ben rector :) read here on ao3

“How come you didn't go to school?”

Fair question, but pretty random.

They're spread out on the floor of Cabin One. When Nico marched in armed with a bottle of nail polish the color of a cloudless sky and insisted on painting Jason's nails, Jason tossed his sketchbook aside. Any activity with Nico is better than drawing shrines alone. 

Nico got to work and they descended into easy silence. Jason figured that was for Nico's focus, so he didn't break it, just allowed his mind to wander aimlessly.

When he tunes back in at Nico's inquiry, he sees two nails painted — left index and middle, coated in light blue. Jason has never had his nails painted. He doesn't know if it's always this soothing, but if it is, he can understand why so many people do it.

“You mean instead of staying at camp year-round?”

Nico nods and takes the brush to Jason's next finger. His face of concentration is extremely cute: narrowed eyes, teeth digging into his lower lip, one rebellious strand of dark hair he keeps blowing out of his face only for it to fall right back in his eyes.

“You could have,” he says. “You’d only have two years before graduation. Could get a diploma.”

Jason shrugs. “Yeah, but why would I? It’s not like I was getting a formal education before. Praetor was a year-round job.”

Nico hums. He's really very good at this. If the demigod thing doesn't pan out, he has a future as a manicurist.

“Plus,” Jason adds gamely, “I don't exactly have a parent or guardian to enroll me anywhere.”

“I'm sure Chiron would be more than happy to falsify some legal documents.”

Jason chuckles. “You think so?”

“Are you kidding?” Nico snorts. “Percy told me Chiron posed as his Latin teacher for a full year when he was younger. He would love to invent a transcript for you.”

Jason gives this a dismissive laugh so they can put the topic to rest. He thought about trying to go to school, for sure. He spent about six minutes seriously considering it. I could have some normalcy, he'd mused. Be a high school kid. Sure, I don't have any surviving mortal parents, or anywhere to live during the school year, or any money, or any previous course credits, or any documents to prove I'm a real person, but. Those are solvable problems.

Then he’d thought, Or I could stay at camp, and the decision made itself.

Maybe it's bleak to say, but there's nothing for him out there. In the real world. He has no memory of being a baby living with Thalia and his mother, and after that, his whole life was the legion. Training with Lupa was the closest thing Jason had to elementary school. Everything that matters to him — his friends, his family, his sworn duty to the minor gods — starts and ends in camp. His youth is tattooed with the brand of Camp Jupiter. His freedom is a leather necklace tied by Camp Half-Blood.

Why leave?

“I'm good here,” is all he says.

Nico isn't ready to drop it. “But then why stay here? You didn't want to go back to Camp Jupiter?”

Jason raises both eyebrows. “Did you want me to?”

“No!” Nico scowls. “I'm just curious.”

Methodical brush strokes turn Jason's fourth fingernail blue. It's a pretty color; Jason wonders what inspired Nico to choose it. It's probably not Nico's first time painting someone's nails, because he's very skillfully managing not to get any polish on Jason's skin. He has good hands for the job — thin and precise. Careful. Deliberate.

“The plan was really to split my time,” Jason says, just as careful, just as deliberate. “I was already at Camp Half-Blood, so I figured I'd spend a little while here, then a while at Camp Jupiter, and, you know, so on.”

“But…it's been two months,” Nico says.

The unspoken question: why haven't you gone back yet?

“Well, yeah,” Jason says. His own stillness is becoming uncomfortable. If he moves, he risks ruining Nico's artwork, but sitting this stationary isn't in his nature. Like most demigods, he has a compulsion to fidget. It's less noticeable in him — less than, say, Leo — but in moments of extreme stagnancy, it doubles down.

“Are you planning to go back at all?”

It's not an interrogation. At least, Jason doesn't think so. It's not small talk, either. Nico is his friend. This is a friendly conversation. There are no wrong answers here.

“Eventually,” Jason says. “To visit. But…to stay?” He shakes his head. “I don't think so.”

“All your friends are there,” Nico says, and he's still looking down, focused on his task, like this statement is a reflex, requiring no thought.

“Not all,” Jason says, watching him. “You're here.”

That gets Nico’s attention. He looks up. “Me?”

“You're my friend,” Jason says.

“Don't tell me you stayed here just for me.” It comes out like a bad joke. Like it couldn't possibly be true.

“Well…” Jason pauses. “I don't know if that's the only reason, but it definitely helped.”

“What? Are you joking?”

“Why would I be joking?”

“Because that's—” Nico stops halfway through painting Jason’s little finger. He gestures like words aren't enough. “That's crazy!”

“You just said I should go to Camp Jupiter because my friends are there,” Jason says, puzzled. “Why is it crazy to stay at Camp Half-Blood for the same reason?”

“I’m one person. Friend, singular. Meanwhile your entire cohort of friends is over in California.”

“Yeah, but…” Jason gnaws his cheek. He has this suspicion Nico won't like any of his answers, then decides he doesn't care. “They don't need me over there. I gave my praetorship to Frank, so I'm officially released from leadership duty, and I don't regret it for a second. It makes no difference to the legion if I'm there or not, except as this— I don't know, symbol of greatness that I…really am not.” He grimaces, examining his semi-painted pinky nail, this half-finished, imperfect thing. “Here, I feel like…maybe it matters if I'm here or not. And not because of who my dad is or my rank or anything, just because…well, we're friends.”

Nico stares. Then he lifts Jason's hand and starts painting again, picking up where he left off. With his gaze trained downward, away from Jason's, he says, “It does matter. To me.”

Jason smiles. He gets the same feeling as stepping outside in the morning into perfect weather — pleasantly, comfortably surprised.

“There you go, then,” he says. “I mean, if you want me to leave—”

“No,” Nico says quickly, then glares as if he's mad about being tricked into admitting he wants Jason to stay. Recovering, he snarks, “If you leave, I won’t have anyone to subject to my nail-polish schemes.”

“I bet Will would let you paint his nails.”

“Will wouldn't let me anywhere near him with any kind of artistic implement, as well he shouldn’t. I would absolutely deface him.”

“Honored that you've elected not to deface me.”

Nico turns a rosy shade of pink. “This time.”

This is that other kind of Nico threat, the kind reserved for friends. For Jason. The kind that, underneath, isn't a threat at all, but a promise.

This time means there will be a next time. That's Jason's favorite kind of threat.

“You're weirdly good at this,” Jason says. Nico has finished his left hand by now and moved on to the right. “Since when is this in your skill set?”

“Bianca,” Nico says. Matter-of-fact, without room to grieve. “A couple nights when we were in the Lotus Hotel, she asked me to paint hers. First time I tried, it was such a mess. She did mine to show me how, so I could learn.”

Jason catches his breath. “Clearly it paid off, ‘cause you're killing it.”

This was something Nico did with Bianca. And now he's sharing it with Jason. That gives Jason a feeling in his gut that's both warm and heavy, like a big dog is curled up in there, taking a sunbeam nap.

“You'll have to do mine after,” Nico says, still no-nonsense. “Black, obviously.”

“I don't have any nail polish.”

“I brought some. Lacy gave it to me. From Cabin Ten. Magical, so it doesn't smudge or chip.”

“I didn't even realize nail polish did that.”

“You have a lot to learn.” Nico nods sagely. “That's okay. Everyone starts somewhere.”

“It is very relaxing. I can see the appeal,” Jason admits. He wiggles the fingers of his finished hand, admiring them. “How’d you land on this color, though? Or was it just a random pick?”

 Nico looks strangely at Jason. Some of that blush from earlier returns. “You're…the son of the sky god.”

Jason studies the color. It's not quite sky blue, but close enough. “Huh,” he says, feeling silly for not having made the connection. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Besides,” Nico says, a little quieter like it's not exactly for Jason to hear, but not not for him to hear, either, “it's the color of your eyes.”

That sleeping dog behind Jason's navel starts thumping its tail.

“Oh,” Jason says. He's not sure he could confirm that, but Nico sounds utterly certain. The fact that Nico has spent enough time looking at Jason's eyes that he can pinpoint their exact shade is its own can of worms. For future opening. At a later date. “Well, I like it. It's pretty.”

“Yeah,” Nico says, and his fingers press gently into Jason's palm as he continues to paint. “It is.”

[the-tenth-arcanum]

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

Tagged by @emozionidinchiostro ages ago

1. Are you named after anyone? My dad wanted to give me his little sister's name as a middle name, and I did have it on some early pediatric reports when I was a baby, but it's not on any actual official document, so technically I do not have a middle name, even though my parents convinced me I did. I mentioned my unofficial middle name to some friends at school when I was around 12 or something, and it became my nickname forever. Everyone called me that. The friends I've kept in touch from back then still call me that. Even my mom has me saved under that name on her phone. But it's, like, only 3 people now. // tl;dr: kinda.

2. When was the last time you cried? I can't remember to be honest. This might come as a surprise to you guys but I'm not a big crier. I'm just sad and whiny.

3. Do you have kids? No and I don't want any.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? I don't think so?

5. What sports do you play/have played? NONE, I suck at sports and have always hated playing them. I mean, I've tried a few but never for any significant amount of time.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people? Whether they're nice/friendly, I guess. If someone is kind to me I will fall in love with them. I love kind people.

7. What's your eye color? Dark brown. I-almost-can't-make-out-your-pupil kind of brown.

8. Scary movies or happy endings? Neither? Happy endings if I have to choose, but I like drama. (I mean, comedy too, big fan. But sometimes you just want to watch a film that makes you think about the human condition and despair, you know?)

9. Any special talents? Misplacing things. Forgetting about events in the recent past. Petting cats.

10. Where were you born? Italy.

11. What are your hobbies? Not doing a lot these days to be honest :( Fannish activities (fanfic writing and the like). I'm in a funky pop-rock choir which I attend semi-regularly. I have attempted to learn Spanish at various points in my life and failed miserably, not always for reasons within my control (I enrolled on a Spanish course organised by the local library a while ago, and the teacher quit after my first term. He had been there for years. But I think the main issue is that after studying Russian for 5 years at uni, I look at Spanish and think, "surely it won't be that hard". And then I just... don't study it. I think I can learn it by osmosis or something, just by virtue of being Italian. Which doesn't fucking work).

12. Do you have pets? Not currently. I had a cat. I shall have one again some day.

13. How tall are you? About 168 cm.

14. Favorite subject in school? Italian Lit always, and in later years (high school) Latin and English Lit. At uni — I think English phonetics & phonology, weirdly enough; also pragmatics and anything related to sociolinguistics.

15. Dream job? Something to do with creative writing, in an ideal world. Or even "just writing", but not the kind that makes me want to kms (don't ask). Copywriter or radio scriptwriter both sound cool.

No pressure tagging: @nevergonnasaygoodbi @sapphicdragonlord @ayebydan @marki9 @yeetthedragon @valsansretovr @groundbreakingdot872 @vi-visected @crunchy-soup222 @fuckyeahsnackables

(ETA: sorry it's not 15 people and it's not even all mutuals, which I think was the point of the game, but *turns around and starts running away*)

[paradoxcase]

John 3:20

THE TOWER HAS REACT

I'm trying to trace back and find out where they went off the rails on this and why, and I can't find it. Like, back when they were just scientists doing a cryo project to save humanity, I don't think they would have considered trying to get a nuke somehow and using that tactically like they are doing now. The only thing that's different now is that John has literal magic powers, which means he can do more than he could before by himself, even if no one listens to him. Otherwise everything is the same, people aren't listening to them or funding them, the trillionaires are doing trillionaire shit, etc., but it should be less critical for them to get widespread support now than it was before John gained superpowers, right? If you're faced with a hard problem, and suddenly gained some new resources or skills, the focus should be on figuring out how to use those new skills to solve the problem, right, and not on gaining international support for solving your problem that was never going to happen anyway? Like, obviously necromancy is going to pay the bills and keep the lights on, they have all of the science, I think they can independently continue work on their project now, right? John has a twitch following, and there's at least one major country that knows for a fact that his powers are real. Regardless of whether any governments publicly support his project, if they can keep the money coming they can still save all of those people

She was right. John got so caught up in being angry about trillionaires that he forgot about the whole original purpose of his project

I feel like this is actually the opposite of John's problem. I think every bad decision point of this story happened because someone made John super mad about something so he did something stupid and it's been 10,000 years and he's still like really fucking mad about this

God, I can see this happening, all the Gen Z kids grow up, and they all learned from tumblr that all the people in power are evil people and they're in power because they're evil and they just extrapolate this to "if I just become evil I'll get put into a position of power and then people will listen to me"

I'm not sure what John was expecting here. Yes, they should have investigated, but honestly, he could also have just waited until the trillionaires ran off, and then brought this stuff up (again), at which point the trillionaires are no longer around to defend themselves or protect their property from being investigated, and since they're not planning to come back they have no vested interest in keeping up appearances on Earth after they leave, and probably they would leave behind plenty of this evidence the truth would come out then. If the trillionaires leaving wasn't the end of the world for him I think it would have gone his way after they left

Apparently the root is phthisis:

and it Latin it just meant "tuberculosis".

Interesting, I thought it was going to be that some unhinged fundie accused him of necromancy and he was going to be like, oh, yeah, you got it, but obviously John is not nearly that suave, so it turns out that he just started using the word himself during his Dr. Evil phase

[dandelion-blues]

#1 What if...

Percy Jackson and Adrien Agreste were related?

Eyes the color of water, from the deepest depths of the ocean, to the crystalline lakes, to the frothy seafoam; eyes the color of life, from the rich greens of leaves, to the emerald gems beneath the ground, to the rich browns of woods; eyes that shift to every imaginable color on Earth like a kaleidoscope - everchanging and enchanting; these eyes that look down upon the Earth, upon her.

She remembered those eyes on her, the most beautiful sight she's ever seen. More beautiful than those curves, those lips, those legs, that face. Those eyes were the siren call that dragged her down, down, down into their grasp. Falling for those eyes. It was a forbidden thing: the tantalizing fruit always tempting her to taste.

Oh, and taste divine they did, dripping down her chin as she gave into those eyes’ seductions. She was Eve, and the eyes were the Devil, but even the Devil was once an angel - beautiful and divine. Those eyes could never have belonged to Hell, but still, they brought her to her own personal Hell, just as they ascended her to Heaven.

She fell harder than she thought possible. Forgetting about him. Forgetting about everything except Her. But like all good things, they must end. Céline knew this. She knew just as God left Jesus to His own path, helping in the indirect ways only He could, that the divine and mortal world were meant to stay separate, but still her heart longed for what it could not have.

Thus, Céline, the lover of the Goddess Venus, went back to only being known as ‘wife’ to Athanase Agreste and ‘mother’ to her two year old son Donatien. Still, she was left a reminder of Her love in her unborn child, the child of a Goddess and a mortal.

The Agreste patriarch never did suspect her of infidelity, and when her daughter was born, she was named Estelle Agreste, the daughter of Athanase and Céline Agreste.

Notes:

Yep! This is a Percy Jackson and Miraculous Ladybug crossover idea that I've started where Estelle is not only the daughter of Venus but part of the Agreste family (even if not by blood). Estelle also happens to be Percy's maternal grandmother. Well, I'm sure Percy will never find out, and definitely won't have an unforeseen trip to France to visit his maternal side of the family in the future *wink* *wink*.

Also, I purposely capitalized "Her" for Venus since it is from Céline's perspective, and she not only loves Venus but she worships her.

Hope you guys enjoyed it, and I'll hopefully continue to update this story and eventually post it on ao3. ❤️

Also, interestingly enough, Céline comes from the Roman name Celelius, which means “heaven” in latin.

BTW, I got Donatien and Ananase’s names from Adrien's full name (on fandom): Adrien Émile Gabriel Donatien Athanase Agreste. Which has very Greek/Roman names in it.

And here's a drawing and description of Percy Jackson's Miraculous

Next "What if...?"

[one-coming-is-enough]

I wanna hear about your beef with Mr. Claus, if you don't mind.

I've been sleeping on this ask for a minute, and it's time, honestly. I've had such a busy holiday season already, it's crazy! I mean, this year in addition to all the zombies, I'm trying to get through the training videos for taking over Hell, and they're meandering, awkward, and full of incoherent jargon. It's just a lot!

But the 6th was St. Nicholas's Day, and tonight it's Hanukkah, so I should definitely answer this one.

St. Nicholas is a decent guy, if a little stiff-necked. His thing is giving dowries to poor women so they don't have to go into sex work. And also bringing poor children back to life after they're sold for stew meat.

(Also, he was the one who proposed at the Council of Nicea that Easter be celebrated on the first full moon after the spring equinox, which tied it to the solar calendar instead of the lunar calendar. Granted, this was to reduce the Jewish influence on the religion, but it also made it easier for Me to celebrate Passover, and I really like Passover.)

So St. Nicholas Day ends up being a day where, instead of finding the nearest whore and offering to fund her marriage (sex work is work), you give money and presents to children. You can see the connection, yeah? Make sure kids have what they need growing up and they won't go hoing to make ends meet. Or have to be made into stew.

Meanwhile, we have this spirit over in the East called Ded Moroz, or Grandpa Frost. He's just, like, an old guy who freezes stuff. He'll take your kids if they wander out in the cold like you told the little bastards not to do.

And because of cultural drift, the duties of Ded Moroz get shifted over to Odin, another dude from the East. Originated somewhere between the steppes of Mongolia and Turkey, as far as anyone knows, finally made his way to Sweden and even the British Isles. Odin is now the Yulefather, the freezer of water and collector of the dead in the dying part of the year. Makes sense, because He's a wind god, since air is the element connected with Spirit at this time. (This is true for Hebrew and Latin, too! Pneuma and ru'ach.)

Well, the church doesn't like that Ded Moroz is a spooky guy who takes souls, decides he's a demon. But people like their Ded Moroz a lot. So now, instead of being a demon who takes souls, he's... Well, who do we have that's also from the East, Turkey specifically, and who is associated with giving or taking something, especially regarding children?

We have St. Nicholas! Who gives children presents instead of taking their souls, and coincidentally can calm the storm (of wind) that so often takes the souls of those lost outside in the cold. And his holiday is just under 20 days before Yule Xmas it's Christmas now. (Or, Yuletide. You know, whatever. Sheol is Hades now, who gives a shit.)

So it all gets kinda muddled up. Odin, St. Nick, Ded Moroz. Father Frost, Father Solstice, Father Christmas.

Well, I'm hanging out in the Holy Roman Empire, and I hear about this guy known as Sinterklaas. I think it's my old buddy and trusted employee Nicholas of Myra, who as far as I know has been buying, freeing, and funding the education and/or startups of slaves for as long as that's been possible. (He has six to eight African guys he ended up hiring on as assistants.) And I hear he's giving out not just coins and oranges, which prevent scurvy, but also toys and candy. And Nicholas of Myra is a good man, but he had zero sense of humor or fun and would never give a kid candy ("it rots your teeth, at least have an orange").

So I track down this Klaus, whom the kids also call Kris Kringle. I hear the kids have been doing all sorts of weird rituals to him, like the Spanish Yule log that shits candy, or the little pooping guy they hide in the Nativity scene (also Spanish, now that I think about it. What the fuck did the Inquisition do to people's brains over there?). And that he has a creepy BDSM goat called the Krampus for an assistant, who's in charge of dealing out the punishment to bad kids (that one's German and I thought it was just, like, the nation's id or something).

And he's smol. I mean, this guy is fucking Thumbelina sized. Roughly round, jolly as fuck, red fur trimmed in white, pointy toque beanie to match, and a miniature sleigh with eight tiny reindeer. Telltale pointed ears. Sparkling all over like they do.

Eight transmuted beings. Sleipnir (Dasher), Shiva and Baal Marquad (Dancer, Prancer), a kitsune (Vixen), a fallen star (Comet), Eros Himself (Cupid), and Thunder and Lightning -- Thor and Loki. Donner and Blitzen.

It's an entire Neil Gaiman novella of folks who've, I dunno, lost some kind of bet to him.

Okay. So he's one of The Neighbors. Gotta be careful.

I greet him like he's my old buddy Nicholas. I ask him how the soul collection is going and ask to see his inventory. He demurs, but I remind him that I'm his boss and they'll all come to Me eventually anyway. I just want to see if I think he ought to put any back. Oh, and can I just scan your company badge so I can establish that you made your check-in?

Well, I'm bluffing really hard, but he doesn't know that. He says he lost it. I tell him I'll wait with the souls until he gets back -- actually, whoa, looks like he's got a full load there. I'll take them in Myself.

That's when he laughs and says, "Well, Jesus, looks like You caught Me fair and square tonight. But how's about you and I make a deal? I'll spread Your Word and tell children to be good. And I will tell them to give to others all year round, because that's the spirit of Christmas. If they are good all year round, doing what their parents say, I will give them presents. If they are not good all year round -- which is to say, they don't do what their parents tell them to earn Christmas presents -- I will not give them presents. Fair?"

Note the wording carefully. Note where there's an and, and where there's not an and.

This works for a while. And then this song comes out.

Something seems wrong if kids are getting Santa presents according to the wealth of their parents, not their goodness over the year.

Then I find out that the primary metric by which Santa distributes presents is no longer behavior, but belief.

Not in Me.

In SANTA CLAUS.

I storm into his North Pole office yelling idolatry and he's got a fucking elven lawyer underlining shit. He didn't convert. He only promised to encourage charity. He didn't promise presents for charity, it's just for kids doing what their parents say they need to in order to get gifts, and right now that's belief in him.

I'm fucking steamed and he points out that I do exactly the same thing. Instead of doing good works or seeing the Divine in others regardless of social status or even fighting for equality here on Earth, Heaven has gotten twisted around to the point where believing in Me alone -- not what I stand for, which at this point can be nearly anything, but just the idea that I existed and did the Thing -- is considered sufficient acceptance criteria.

And I can't argue with that but I hate it. I hate that it's come to that. I hate what My section of Heaven looks like these days. I personally have been pleading for them to enact stringent, clearer, and above all objective metrics of entry, but I'm outnumbered in My own 5D connected consciousness in that opinion!!!

So. Fuck that guy. I'd literally rather you just worship Odin for Yule flat-out than fuck with Santa Claus, because at least He has solid advice for living and a comprehensive afterlife system.

I don't know what Santa Claus is doing with all that belief except get bigger, and it really scares Me.

[alintheshitposter]

It is currently 4am in the morning, I can't sleep, so let's do this now. (Pretty sure I've done it before but this is simply going be the updated version🤪)

15 questions + 15 friends; I was tagged by @spezialgelagerte-rokokokokotte thanking youuu <3

It got quite long, so I'll put a cut here😅

1. Are you named after anyone?

No😊 (and I say this confidently because I named myself)

2. When was the last time you cried?

Two days ago, on my birthday (I was just a little emotional), but @maxwellshimbo was there to comfort me💚

3. Do you have kids?

Not of my own, no. And it's unlikely that is ever going to happen.

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

I did ballet as a kid but quickly got tired of it and started playing football, which I technically STILL play (it's been 84 14 years💀) but I am falling out of love with it. I used to do archery for like a year which I absolutely loved and hope to do again sometime! I'm in a club for lifeguarding (German peeps will probably have heard of DLRG👀) so I spent quite some time at the swimming pool as well. Though I am not as active in actual training anymore. And I did ballroom dancing for a while. Like standard and latin dances. My favourite was probably Cha Cha Cha and my least favourite was definitely Quickstep😵‍💫 it was fun tho! I danced with one of my best friends and I did the leading parts which made me feel kind of gender euphoric. I also like to go for a run every now and then but overall I'd consider myself a not so sporty person. I like to relax a lot🥴

5. Do you use sarcasm?

I cannot live without. It just comes naturally.

6. What is the first thing you notice about people?

Just the overall vibe I guess. And whether I like them or not.

7. What is your eye colour?

It says blue-grey on my ID but I've been told they're actually more green-ish and I kind of agree.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings. I don't like scary movies, I think they're ridiculous.

9. Any talents?

Hm. Well...my dad jokes are pretty good🤪 but apart from that...I guess I'm quite creative?🤷🏻 I speak 3 languages fluently? I can touch my tongue to my nose? Idk xD

10. Where were you born?

In some small town in northern Germany. Fellow Germans will probably know it for one (1) big tourist attraction but I'm not going to specify it here.

11. What are your hobbies?

I play theater. I play several musical instruments (bass, flute, ukulele, kalimba and some more but I'm not as good). I like taking pictures and editing them. Sometimes I write fanfic and/or poetry. And I like to relax in my bean bag🥴

12. Do you have any pets?

I have a cat but I haven't lived with her in 3 years. (Due to an allergy🤧 and me moving out of my parents' house.) I visit her from time to time tho!

13. How tall are you?

It used to be 1,68m on my ID but I recently had to renew it and now it says I'm 1,71m...I think I might actually be smaller than that though🥴

14. Favourite subject in school?

Always all the languages. Never any of the sciences. I loved music class as well. And all the school bands I played in. I miss that.

15. Dream job?

Please, that is the WORST question you could ask me right now😩 I feel a little lost. I'm currently studying to be a translator but is it what I really want? I don't know ;-; I miss working at the kindergarten lately. But I don't know if I'd wanna do that full time either. I'm so insecure and I hope I'll figure it out soon.

Phew. This took me almost an hour. Well. Let's see if I can fall asleep now. 1½ hours left until my alarm goes off. Good night😴

No pressure tags: @daughterofhecata @miaisreadytorun @bistdueinbaum

[madelinelovesick]

Introducing the Saraverse

As you might have noticed, I did not resume posting daily Madelineverse pages on July 1, and, indeed, never posted a single Madelineverse page since that date. While many of the causes are largely personal, at least some, I believe, are inherently structural.

Namely, I believe that certain key aspects of the Madelineverse are beyond my current skill as a worldbuilder/conlanger.

For this post, I would like to highlight just two of them:

The map

The mapping method I've chosen for the Madelineverse's primary habitable world (the *Earth) is the plate tectonics method posited by Worldbuilding Pasta and popularised by Artifexian, requiring one to go ca. 1 billion years back and simulate plate movements from that date, making sure that everything behaves correctly. Needless to say, this is a highly involved process, and many newcomers to the process find themselves constantly doubting themselves and having to redo large portions of their work, almost constantly.

Early Creole

Early Creole starts out with less phonemes than Proto-Indo-European had stops, and very simplistic phonotactics to match. While this is not completely unreasonable for a proto-language (Proto-Japonic, for example, is of a comparable complexity), it is still more difficult to work with than something like PIE's phonology. The process is made more difficult by the fact that the speakers of different ancestral languages would end up speaking different varieties of Early Creole, which need to be taken into account before a phonological evolution can even begin.

Taking a step backwards

My conclusion at this point is simple: if the Madelineverse is to simultaneously be my "perfect escape" and constructed according to the most advanced methods available to worldbuilders, then I have to pick it up when I'm more experienced. Note that the current progress does not need to be thrown away, but simply archived for future me.

Instead, to continue the output of this blog in any capacity, I've decided to create the Saraverse, a world that lets itself play "fast and loose" and acts as a test bed for some of the more outlandish Madelineverse ideas, as well as a way to "git gud", so to say.

So far, I've started with a single conlang, very creatively named Saraverse Language I, with a phonology/romanisation that makes it look like Latin, but intended to diverge from the Proto-Indo-European mould in grammar. There is not much work done on it so far, but I can show the ideas for the phoneme list for the original and modern forms:

From now on, updates should be coming every Monday at 17:00 UTC+2.

Thank you for your patience.

[oh-hush-its-perfect]

how the hoo characters would react upon being asked about taylor swift

PERCY: She's pretty good. Yeah, I listened to the new version of Speak Now and it kinda went harder than I thought it would. I'm not, like, a "worship the ground she walks on" kinda guy, but I guess I like enough of her songs to consider myself a Swiftie. Guilty pleasure, I guess.

ANNABETH: Oh, gosh. People always ask me this. Uh, long story short— oh, right, that's one of her songs. That's kinda funny— I liked her music a lot when I was younger. Like, "Better than Revenge" was my thing when I was fifteen. And, yeah, I've listened to most of her albums. I liked Midnights and folklore and evermore. But I was never in love with her as a person. I just relate to some of her songs. Oh, gods, I couldn't count how many times I've cried to "Would've, Could've, Should've." But I heard someone call her the "greatest songwriter of our generation," and that's just... That's a bit bizarre for me. I think she's good as an artist, though. So... I guess I like her music, but I'm definitely not a Swiftie.

PIPER: Uhhh, I don't know. Like, her music is terrible or anything, but it's not really my taste. But as a person? I don't know, the whole Matty Healy thing just rubbed me the wrong way, and... I mean, she's a rich white lady doing rich white lady things. My dad asked me if I wanted her at my birthday party once. I said no, but I also said no to the Regrettes, and I'm literally in love with Lydia Knight. I'm happy for her with the tour and all, but not really my scene, no. But Jason likes her so I try to be supportive.

JASON: Oh, my gods. She's like... I don't know if she's my favorite artist, but she's up there. I mean, like, she's just so classy and her music is just so good. The way she uses synths is like... it's like magic. And her lyrics— I mean, you can't get much more relatable than that. My favorite album is probably... Lover? Or maybe Red. Then again, maybe it's 1989. It's so hard to pick. I guess I'm kind of a hopeless romantic at the end of the day.

LEO: Taylor Swift? Well, like, she's hot.

THALIA: Not really my style. But if she did a punk-pop or metal album, I'd be down for that. Like, I heard a metal cover of "Look What You Made Me Do" once, and it went so hard. She's really got a good voice for punk, too. Saw a video of her doing a vocal growl on that one song— uh, what's it called? "We are Never Getting Back Together" or something like that? Anyway, that sounded really good. But I don't really like her environmental impact. You could ask Rachel about that. I bet she'd have a lot to say.

RACHEL: Taylor— Listen. Don't get me started on Taylor Swift. Her music is mediocre at best, and her carbon footprint? Holy Hades! I saw somewhere that that one study that said 8,000 tonnes was wrong and it's actually more like 1,000 tonnes, but that was taken from half of a year during a global pandemic. She wasn't even touring or anything. The woman's a multimillionaire. With that kind of money, you would think that she'd be more environmentally conscious, but no. Not at all. And I guess it's cool or whatever that she pays her people well, but, like, that's the bare minimum. Taylor Swift. I didn't like her before all that about her environmental impact and stuff came out, and I definitely don't like how she dates racist guys, and I hate the way people worship her and follow her like lemmings, y'know?

HAZEL: Who?

FRANK: Oh, she's good, I suppose. Never got super invested in her or her music or anything. I don't really know anything about her except that people love her, and her singles are fine, I guess. I liked that one song "cardigan."

NICO: Uh, I feel like people shouldn't really ask me about music. My music taste kinda sucks. But sure, Taylor Swift makes some good music. Annabeth played me a few songs once. I really liked "Haunted," I think it's called.

REYNA: I don't follow her life and I haven't listened to any of her albums or anything. I mostly listen to Latin music, to be honest. But she's a woman and she's extremely successful, so I suppose I'm happy for her.

[Coach Hedge immediately starts singing "Shake It Off" when asked and did not provide any further comment.]

OCTAVIAN: I can't believe some people call that trash "music." It's so low-brow and vapid. Only eleven year old girls actually like that kind of thing. Me, I listen to real music— the classics, like Mozart. My favorite song by him is definitely "Canon in D."

[aelaer]

for the whumpy prompt list: 🎧

I don't even know if you remember submitting this babywarg, and I *know* it took 3 years, but in my defense, 2020 was a shitshow after I asked for whump icon prompts. If you don't remember, this one stood for sensory deprivation. And here's a 6k fic to fill it!

This originally started very differently, then Wong took the reins and never let go. The first two parts were deleted/moved around entirely, and Stephen's POV disappeared as Wong decided this story was going to be from his POV. I would apologise that I am using the kidnapping trope *yet again*, but I'm not that sorry, either.

So canon Endgame doesn't exist in this fic world though I don't get too much into it beyond some hints with character endings and the timeline. It's probably mid-2019 in terms of timing (no 5 year jump). I'm not sure who, if anyone, is Sorcerer Supreme because of this. I also accidentally did the "insert plot into the prompt" thing that I have a bad habit of doing and made this way long. And finally, I don't know Latin; I just used a dictionary and a conjunction table to try and make something cool.

Grem's a character from a side-issue comic that I've appropriated and who has appeared in some of my earlier works. He's "played" by Rupert Graves. With a beard. 

Thanks to @coolnemmythings for betaing the majority of this and helping me brainstorm an ending because it finally pushed me into completion (more on that below).

———

Finding the Way Back Home

The Avengers found out Stephen was missing by happenstance. Peter, once he had discovered where Stephen lived, made it a habit to visit the Sanctum on what he called "slow days" when he was in the area. Wong had gotten used to him over time. 

Naturally, one of his visits corresponded with when a team of sorcerers uncovered Stephen's ambush site. Normally this would be fine as official Kamar-Taj matters were discussed nowhere near Peter. Wong couldn't hear the passing conversations of the distant apprentices and acolytes in the hallway adjourning the foyer of the Sanctum, so it should have been fine. He would entertain the young man for a few minutes, tell him Stephen was busy, and then lead him out. 

Just as Wong was about to give his excuses, he learned that the kid had super-hearing and that the conversation Wong couldn't hear was very, very audible to Spider-Man. It was a rather unfortunate time to discover such a fact.

And once Peter learned the news, it was just a matter of a few texts before every Avenger knew.

"We'd like to help out," Tony said, being the first to call Wong. Wong had given his number to a couple Avengers on the off-chance Stephen was wounded while working with them. He hadn't expected his number to be used in this fashion.

"Us sorcerers handle our own affairs," was Wong's gruff reply. "Besides, aren't you supposed to be retired?"

"Special occasion."

Wong said, "We're fine," hung up before Tony could retort, then sighed. Stephen would be displeased if Iron Man ended up dying after all the work he did to save him in the multiple future fiasco. He was just happy Stephen managed to get to 16 million—from what he understood, a couple other "winning" timelines were absolutely dismal on a global scale—but that was another topic altogether.

Then Tony gave out Wong's number to the others.

"It really would be no trouble," Steve said. "We consider all of you our allies after Thanos."

"You're supposed to be retired, too," was Wong's exasperated retort.

A pause. "Well, I did pass on the mantle of Captain America to Sam, sure, but that doesn't mean I don't go out in the field here and there. Just less public."

Wong hung up on him, too.

"We really would like to see him safe," was Bruce's call.

Bruce was a little harder to hang up on; he had been visiting the New York Sanctum frequently for meditation purposes, to better understand and work with the other side of his personality and come to some sort of balance with it. According to Stephen, Bruce had achieved something like this on his own in other futures, but he was certain the resources at Kamar-Taj could help him achieve this faster and with potentially better results.

Still, Bruce Banner was not a sorcerer. "I appreciate the offer, Doctor Banner, but this is a matter for our order," he told him, then hung up before the other could retort.

"It's pretty slow right now; you'd be doing everyone a favor in letting us help," Natasha admitted when she called.

Wong pulled the phone away from his face to sigh; if it weren't for the very slim chance of Stephen potentially calling him, he would have turned off the damn thing. "Weren't you supposed to retire from field work, too?"

"People like me never retire," she answered. "Think on it, Wong."

He grimaced and hung up.

"You have to let us help!" was Peter's plea. Peter had been barred from the Sanctum until the issue was settled—Wong knew that Stephen wouldn't want the kid involved—but apparently Tony Stark was more than happy to give Peter Parker his phone number, as well.

"Stephen would want you to stay out of this," he told the kid without ceremony, and hung up on him, too, though he felt a little bad doing it.

This was getting ridiculous. The other Masters had decided the Avengers shouldn't be involved, but if they had to endure what Wong was enduring, maybe they'd change their minds. Besides, the extra eyes wouldn't be a bad thing to have, at least in Wong's opinion. 

By the time a sixth call from an Avenger in under an hour occurred, Wong was ready. He surrounded himself with sorcerers in the Masters' strategy room as they discussed leads and next steps, then let the phone ring.

The Masters caved in less than two hours. Part of it may have been due to the Avengers' resilience, but Wong liked to think that setting his ringtone to Beyoncé's "All The Single Ladies" helped encourage the use of outside help. They agreed that the Avengers could assist them, though they were taking absolutely no responsibility if anything untoward or deadly happened to them. The Avengers didn't seem to care about the warning, which didn't particularly surprise Wong.

The dead security cameras near the site of the ambush suggested magical tampering, which meant that every two to three Avengers was paired with one or two Masters. The tracking was long and it took everything within their power to narrow down the search to the three most likely locations out of the many that Mordo had passed through over the last year.

(They were 99% certain Mordo was behind Stephen's disappearance. For the past several months Mordo had been stealing former students' abilities to do magic—and on three occasions, ended up killing the former student instead. The Masters of Kamar-Taj had been actively hunting him down for some time, doubling down when they learned Mordo was gathering followers. That Stephen's body wasn't found instead is a miracle, but it made Wong worry as to what Mordo could possibly want with him.)

They decided to infiltrate the three chosen locations as soon as they narrowed down the list. All the Avengers that had been allowed in (eight of them sans Peter because no, Wong wasn't going to be responsible for a minor no matter how close he was to 18) were on standby and allowed themselves to be split into groups by the Masters without contest.

Wong ended up with Master Grem of the London Sanctum and Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, and Natasha Romanov—all the supposedly-retired-but-not-quite-yet Avengers. Exasperating.

Still, he couldn't say that he minded having them at his back in such an unknown situation. With a lesser sorcerer, the Order could have set monitoring wards on all the rogue sorcerers’ known locations to go off whenever another made a gateway into the area. But Mordo was one of the best and such magic would immediately alert him and his followers to the order's knowledge of their current bases and send them into hiding, and all that work of the last few months in tracking them would be lost.

The original plan, before all this, had been to track Mordo's movements for a pattern until they could ambush him and his followers. With Stephen taken, though? The time for waiting was over. Still, it was largely unknown what they would find at their assigned location—a dilapidated, Soviet-era warehouse in Eastern Europe—so having experienced company was no bad thing.

He was especially grateful for the Avengers' presence when it turned out that the warehouse was not devoid of life. Ten of Mordo's recruits (only four of whom were former students of Kamar-Taj) were present and quite willing to kill him if necessary. He and Grem alone would have been very hard-pressed. With the three Avengers helping them, the fight took only a couple minutes, the most difficult of the group being two of the rogue sorcerers that proved more creative than their counterparts.

Those that survived the fight were quickly disarmed and restrained for later questioning, and it was easy enough for Wong to push a portal around each person to the rarely-used cells of Kamar-Taj. He frowned as he considered their number; that was a significant number of recruits in what seemed to be an unimportant building. 

"That's convenient," Tony said as he watched the portals take the surviving combatants.

As Wong opened and closed the portals, Grem scanned the building for any remnants of magical use, carefully scanning above and below as he slowly circled around a single point. He stilled, then squinted. "There's something in that corner office." He pointed.

Wong saw Grem, Steve, and Natasha take off to the office, then turned back to his own task. Tony Stark stayed with him to guard his back as Wong finished securing their prisoners and had the bodies of those who did not make it portalled to the morgue within Kamar-Taj.

As the last body was flown through the portal, a streak of red burst out of the corner office and onto the larger warehouse floor. Wong would recognize the Cloak of Levitation anywhere, and it currently darted to and fro about the space as if searching.

"As you can see, the Cloak's fine," Grem called as he left the office, the other two Avengers in tow. When he got closer, Wong could see the scowl on Grem's face. "But I don't think that's the only thing this building's hiding. There's something else here, Wong, but I can't see what."

"How did they manage to separate it from Stephen in the first place?" Natasha asked. "From what I've seen, that thing is quite protective of him."

"It is," Wong agreed. "But there are some complicated spells in existence that may temporarily incapacitate a relic, even one as unique as the Cloak. Mordo is a skilled enough sorcerer to perform such a spell."

Grem hissed between his teeth. He was performing another pivot on the spot as he searched the area with his third eye yet again. As he ended, he shook his head. "Nothing. We're going to need to do a more manual search, and we may need to split up to better cover ground."

Wong, though, remembered something that happened after one of the fights during the War of the Infinity Stones. "That may not be necessary," he said, and looked over to the man beside him. "Tony, you are able to scan for heat signatures with your suit, correct?"

"Sure can, Wong." Tony paused and began to scan the interior, slowly pivoting on the spot, then froze halfway through. "Basement, northeast corner. One person lying down. Looks like it's empty otherwise."

"Useful," Grem remarked as he immediately headed towards the stairs. As one they followed him, hurrying their way to the stairwell, descending to the basement, and then making a sharp left to head in the indicated direction. They encountered no one else along the way, as expected. Despite this, when Tony said, "That door up ahead," both Wong and Grem paused before they could reach it. Wong held up a hand to halt the others. The Avengers wouldn't see it, but the magic upon the door was very evident to them.

"Wards are more your thing, Wong," said Grem as he eyed the door up and down. "But even I know this is quite a piece of work. I didn't realize Mordo knew all these warding spells."

Grem was right; the warding was very intricate. It was no wonder they could not find Stephen through his magical signature alone; the spells set about the room were put in to prevent such magic from having any use. A closer study of the details within the intricacies of the design showed that any attempt to remove the wards or force one's self into the room by magic would have dire consequences for not only the caster, but the person held inside. 

Wong pursed his lips together unhappily, then glanced over at the Avengers. "The wards set on this room mean I will not be able to enter, not in the usual way. Not easily."

"Do we even know if it's locked?" Natasha asked, eyeing the door up and down.

"It doesn't matter if it is or isn't. The warding includes spells against non-approved visitors touching the doorknob, and the side effects of doing so are not pleasant."

Tony's repulsor flared. "I can blast it open."

Wong shook his head. "No; too much kinetic energy. The wards might see it as spells and react negatively to you."

"Yeah, but if it's Stephen inside, I'll take my chances," Tony shot back.

"The same consequences that fall upon you also happen to the individual contained within," Wong said, and he heard the man hiss in frustration.

"I hear you," Grem muttered in sympathy. "Wong, your dispelling is faster; how long do you think it would take you to remove all these wards?"

Wong shook his head. "Hours, likely. Too long of a time for my comfort." Behind him, he heard Grem mutter a curse under his breath.

Steve stared at the door thoughtfully. "So we don't want to touch the doorknob, but we can't blast it with firepower. What about just—knocking the door off its hinges?"

Again Wong shook his head. "I can't use magic against the door to do so."

"No, I mean, I can do it," Steve clarified. "Just brute force, no firepower. It would be a lot less kinetic energy than a repulsor blast and I won't touch the doorknob."

Grem looked sidelong at Wong. "I don't see anything in the wards that would react negatively to that scenario. I don't think the average person could knock this down, but they weren't expecting us to bring anyone else."

Wong studied over the wards once more himself, and brute force that didn't have enough energy to be mistaken as magic was not warded against. "I think that may be our best shot," he agreed.

"Then step back," Steve said, and the team gave him some room. 

The Cloak, on the other hand, continued to hover closely beside Steve with an urgency that Wong wouldn't have known was possible on a piece of fabric before seeing the Cloak with Stephen.

"Cloak," Wong said. As it turned to him, he told it, "You can't enter the room. That warding could do you serious harm." The Cloak stiffened, as if offended by the suggestion. Wong resisted the urge to roll his eyes and gestured to it. "Come on. Stephen would be very upset if you got hurt."

That Cloak remained stiff and unmoving for another three seconds, but Wong gestured again and its shoulders slumped in resignation and it moved itself beside Wong. 

Steve then put himself in a braced position. He had a shield—not the iconic Captain America shield, but a smaller black one that was more rectangular in form—and used that in his lead up run towards the door to force it open with his shoulder.

The door flew open and Wong watched Steve—and Tony, who immediately followed—carefully for any side effects. When none happened, he spared a quick glance at Grem.

"I'll keep a watch out here," Grem said quickly. Natasha nodded in agreement and moved her gaze down the hall.

Wong inclined his head, again told the Cloak, "Stay out here," then followed the other two men in. He immediately felt when he was cut off from his magic by the wards and grimaced at the foreign wrongness of the feeling. But he could still sense the wards, so at least Stephen would have hopefully realized that he was in a warded cell rather than drained of magic.

Speaking of.

The room was mostly bare except for a cot, a chair, and an IV pole in the corner. Laying on his back on the cot was Stephen, stripped of his outer clothing and left with only his tunic and pants. His upper left arm's sleeve was cut off and the arm itself was bandaged, while further down an IV tube was connected to his forearm. A neat line of stitches crossed over his left temple, and some sort of feeding tube was inserted into one of his nostrils and taped down to his face. Both lines led to the IV pole, which held what looked like saline and a bag that Wong guessed was used for tube feeding.

Steve slowly approached the bed. "That noise should have woken him up. Is one of these lines drugging him?"

"Possibly," said Tony, "But this doesn't look drugged. I'm getting really weird readings on his vitals."

Feeling unusually bare without the connection to his magic, Wong approached the bed with the same caution as he asked Tony, "What are you seeing?"

"Elevated heart rate just under 120 bpm, and—" He paused as if listening to something, then said, "Right, the suit can't quite scan brainwaves of other people to the detail of an EEG—yet—but I can get a good picture. FRIDAY's saying that it looks like the brain of someone awake, not someone drugged or asleep."

"Does that mean he can hear us?" Steve asked.

"That means he'll be pissed we're talking about brain stuff without his contributions," was Tony's remark, but his tone fell flat. Suddenly his helmet disintegrated away as the nanites retreated from his face, and he turned his attention from Stephen to Wong. "What're we doing here, Wong? Is this magic or something else?"

A good question. "I won't be able to find out here," Wong answered, then strode forward and carefully removed the cannulas from both Stephen's nose and arm. "Grem, do you see anything on Stephen that prevents him being removed from here?" he called as he worked.

Beyond the warding of the room at the open doorway, Grem performed a gesture before tapping his own forehead. He squinted. "Nothing I can see, Wong. They weren't expecting anyone to get through the door or enter the room through a portal. You can carry him out."

Wong nodded once, then frowned down at Stephen's tall, lanky body. He looked at Steve and Tony. "I don't suppose one of you could—"

"Got it," Tony volunteered, and Wong stepped aside as the other man bent down and carefully picked Stephen up. The way Stephen's body remained utterly limp made something clench in Wong's stomach.

He's alive. Stop it.

They left the room soon after that. The second they were out the Cloak was fretting about Tony back and forth from side to side, and in the hall Grem already had a portal set up and ready. But it led to the infirmary at Kamar-Taj.

"No, his room at the Sanctum," Wong said.

Grem frowned, but closed the portal. "Why?" he asked as he started up another.

"You know he's not fond of being in the infirmary. He complains that it's 'too open.'"

"That was before shit hit the fan and everything changed," Grem answered and, well, Wong knew that Stephen had changed significantly in ways he still hadn't come to full terms with. It hadn't been that long since he had Returned, not really. What was eight months, after all? But he hadn't gotten Stephen's opinion since, so, his bedroom.

The portal opened in the hall now led to Stephen's chambers in the Sanctum, which was a sizable bedroom with an ensuite bathroom. The Sanctum had sensed Stephen's love of the dramatic when it had formed this room for its Master when he was first instated there: the building had installed a bedroom with dark mahogany furniture with intricate carvings and delicate curves around the edges, with even the computer desk and bookshelves not being spared the finery. The star of the bedroom was the ostentatious four post king-sized bed with a top canopy and a cream-colored comforter that had red accents with a design that resembled the embroidery on the Cloak of Levitation.

Now that he thought of it, the motifs on the furniture looked similar to the faded design in the checkered lining of the Cloak, too. Interesting. He spared them no further thought as he walked in and flicked on the light switch from across the room, bathing the dim room in a golden light.

Tony lowered Stephen into his bed as Grem and Natasha entered last, and the portal closed in behind them. The Cloak immediately lowered itself over Stephen once he was laying down. Wong, in turn, started casting what Stephen liked to call 'diagnostic spells' and ever since he said it, the term had stuck in Wong's mind. That was largely what they were: spells that identified what was wrong with the body and spirit, and so could aid a sorcerer in narrowing down the possibilities in what was happening to the person and if it was magical, multidimensional, or mundane in nature.

"I'm not quite sure what I was imagining for a sorcerer's bedroom, but I don't think I was expecting the computer," Natasha said.

"Why not? He has a phone," Steve asked.

"That Tony gave him," she answered.

"You should have seen the brick he was carrying around before," Tony complained. "And if that hadn't drowned in the Hudson, I'm not sure if he would've taken mine. I had to nearly threaten him."

"We find email quite handy, actually," Grem said. "And I really love the Google suite. Calendar, Docs, Sheets."

Tony cracked a smile. "So wizards do their business over Google's servers, huh?"

Grem winked in reply. "Wouldn't you like to know." He cast a look at Wong. "I'll let the others know that we've found him. I warrant they've seen the cells and morgue by now, but I'll double check on that. I'll send an apprentice to wait in the hall in case you need a runner." Wong only grunted in reply. With a quick, "Thanks for your help, mates," Grem made a portal and left the room.

It took a few minutes of various spells and analysis, but eventually Wong came upon an answer as to what was keeping Stephen unconscious—and he felt his heart drop into his stomach as the realization came. His poker face fell and he murmured, "Oh, Stephen." But he banished the sorrow quickly; such an emotion wouldn't help Stephen. Instead, his face became stone as he began to bark orders. "One of you needs to get the lights; make it as dark in here as possible. When I remove this spell from him, I need you all to be as quiet as possible, and if you must speak, do so in a whisper."

Natasha's loose stance immediately stiffened and she took a step closer to the bed to look again at Stephen. She pursed her lips as the rest of her face hardened. "Sensory deprivation?"

"Unlike anything you can imagine," Wong answered grimly.

Steve was now frowning. "Do you think he was like this the entire time? How long was he missing?"

"Between thirty to thirty-six hours," answered Wong, already starting the preparations for the removal spells. They would take a couple minutes to fully set up. "I don't know how long they have kept him under this spell. If it has been for that full length of time, just note that he might not—be fully in his right mind."

"Then we should give him some room," Tony said, with a note of sympathy that admittedly startled Wong. Before he could make anything further of it, however, Tony was already ushering the other two away. "We'll wait in the hall, Wong."

Steve's expression was clearly one of worry as he walked away, Tony's prodding quickly understood. "We'll be here if you need anything." He flicked off the light switch as they left, and the door softly closed behind them.

Wong slowly exhaled and looked at the Cloak. "Up," he ordered. The Cloak raised its collar, but like the stubborn, fickle thing it was, didn't obey immediately. Wong didn't have time for this. "If you don't want to hurt Stephen, you'll get off immediately and wait until you're given permission to touch him again," he snapped, his anxiety for his friend making him shorter than usual.

That did the trick. The Cloak lifted itself, albeit reluctantly, and set itself hovering on the other side of the bed instead. That was fine.

Everything would be fine. Stephen would be fine. Wong forced himself to take a deep breath once again.

As he performed the last of the preparations for the spell's removal, Wong could not help but remember the last time the spell had come into conversation. Unsurprisingly, the conversation had been with Stephen, perhaps two to three months after he had become Master of the New York Sanctum.

"Why does this spell even exist?" Stephen asked Wong as he gestured to the open book on his desk. Wong had made the mistake of entering the New York Sanctum library to find something while Stephen was reading through one of the Ancient One's old tomes, and thus the first fellow master available to hear his complaints.

"You're going to have to be more specific," was Wong's dry answer.

Stephen grimaced and clarified, "Excidit Sensus. It's utterly inhumane."

Wong went to the bookshelf where he suspected his quarry lay. "Compared to contemporary methods of interrogation when the spell was created, it was likely considered a more humane option."

"Incorrectly so!" Stephen shot back, fuming. "This spell removes everything: sight, hearing, touch, all sensations. If you keep a person like that for, say, forty-eight hours, there is a significant chance of hallucinations, anxiety, and depression. The ability to do the simplest tasks deteriorates upon freedom, and if this goes on longer than that, the results can be catastrophic!"

The librarian paused to look over at his colleague, who was slowly (perhaps inevitably) becoming a friend. "I am simply explaining the likely rationale behind its creation," Wong said. "That doesn't mean I endorse its use."

Stephen exhaled. "Sorry. Right. I just wasn't expecting to see something like that."

"For what it's worth," Wong said as he found the book he wanted, "that spell hasn't been used in over a century. Very few sorcerers would have the power and skill to successfully apply it, and there are none in Kamar-Taj who would consider using it now."

"Good," was Stephen's answer, and the conversation ended.

How could Mordo fall to such lows?

Wong finished the prep work and stalled no longer; Stephen had been suffering for more than long enough. He moved his spell work that he performed on the side to hover over the prone man, then in one gesture, settled it upon his body to release the spell. He steeled himself for the fallout.

It came all at once: at first Stephen was utterly still, and then he inhaled sharply and audibly as his eyes flew open. He immediately squeezed them shut and then cradled his hands near his chest, every breath shuddering. To Wong's alarm, the little light remaining in the room glinted on the wetness of his cheeks. He was crying very, very silently.

Still, he did not say anything; the sound of breathing may be too much for Stephen at that moment, never mind conversation. Instead he waited for some sort of cue from the other sorcerer. Opposite him, the Cloak fretted as it swung back and forth in silent worry through the air; it clearly wanted to envelop its Master and it was only Wong's strict word that kept it from doing otherwise.

When Stephen did speak, several minutes later, it was barely above the volume of breathing. "I forgot—how much they hurt."

Wong could not help but exhale in dismay. Stephen made it easy for others to forget that he experienced what would be categorized as chronic pain. One eventually learned to cope and live with such a thing until it became a background ache on normal days, or so he understood it, and his friend had perfected that act a long time ago. However, Wong had not considered how the reintroduction of feeling to his hands would affect Stephen. That was his folly—he was only glad that Tony had the sense of presence to get all others out of the room. 

The sigh caused Stephen to freeze. "Who's there?" he whispered.

He tried to keep his voice just as low. "Wong." He paused to gauge his reaction to his voice; Stephen did not flinch, and so he added, "And the Cloak." That was the most relevant, for now. The Avengers were out of sight in the hall and could wait a little longer.

Stephen's breath shuddered. "Give—give me a minute. Just—give me a minute."

He kept his response limited. "Take your time."

The silence sat for longer, the only sound being of the soft breathing from the both of them. All other sound from the rest of the Sanctum was completely muted. Eventually Stephen carefully moved an arm down from his chest to his side on the bed, and the Cloak took that as permission to reach out and lightly touch him. Stephen stiffened before relaxing and breathed, "Cloak. Right." He swallowed. "How long?"

Wong exhaled. "Thirty to thirty-six hours, if you were under the whole time."

"I was." He kept his voice at a whisper. "You need a report."

"It can wait." He kept his voice at the same volume. "The Avengers helped in your recovery. Stark, Rogers, and Romanoff are outside."

A pained look crossed over Stephen's face. "They can't—they can't see me like this."

"There is no shame in your condition," said Wong, "but I will not press it."

Stephen clenched his eyes shut. He swallowed. "Please."

Wong inclined his head and concealed his alarm; Stephen never begged. "I'll be right back." He rose and cast a silencing spell around the room to filter out all noise from outside, then left the bedroom.

Three pairs of eyes met Wong as he closed the door behind him. "How is he?" Steve asked.

"He'll recover, with time," said Wong. "At the moment he does not wish to have any visitors. You may call in a few days." That should be enough time, hopefully.

"Understandable," Natasha said.

"Ring us if there's anything else you need," Tony added. "And let Merlin know that if I don't hear from him soon, I'll be making a house call."

Wong didn't doubt it. "Noted. You know the way out."

After they turned the corner of the hallway, Wong turned his attention to the apprentice hiding in the shadows; the runner Grem sent. "Bring up a bowl of chicken soup and a cup of herbal tea. Soup should be largely broth." He had no idea what a stomach living off a liquid diet for two days did to solid food, so he'd have Stephen start small. "Keep others away unless it's urgent." The apprentice bowed and took their leave.

Wong sighed, letting his emotions flow away from him now that he was alone in the hall. He only allowed himself a brief moment before he solidified his serene expression and entered Stephen's bedroom once again.

"It's me," he whispered. "Food's on its way."

Stephen hadn't moved in the short time he was gone and his eyes remained closed. He was conscious enough to make a face at Wong's words, however. "Not hungry."

"It'll be waiting for you when you are." The joy of everlasting heat spells on dinnerware. He then considered his next words carefully; Stephen had been unusually emotionally vulnerable the last few minutes, but it did not mean he wouldn't start to close up if he was too brazen. "Would you prefer solitude or company?" Straightforward, yet not coddling—a statement that could be said in any normal situation. Stephen was often allergic to sentimental emotions, especially if they were because of his condition. He'd rather tend to his own wounds than for anyone to see him less than capable. It was only if Wong acted unaffected and casual that he could slip past that shield in times like this.

Stephen was silent for a moment. "Company's not unwelcome," he muttered. "Quiet company, at least."

"That is expected," said Wong. And once Stephen's meal was here, he was ready to sit in silent meditation and companionship as his friend recovered his senses throughout the rest of the evening.

—————

I was stuck on this damn ending (after Stephen was brought back to New York) for over two years. The issue was I wanted to have something with Stephen and the Avengers, as well as a scene from Stephen's POV that Wong could access. I could never make either scene fit, so I just went with my gut and tossed them. The deleted scene from Stephen's POV will be posted on tumblr once I get this fic up on AO3.

The majority of this was written pre-MoM so I just kept the bedroom description as I had imagined Stephen's room back in 2020.

[tuulikannel]

I was thinking about my mother today, for reasons that… well, it doesn’t really matter. For those who don’t know, she died when I was 22. It wasn’t really any big surprise when it happened. We didn’t expect it quite yet, but everyone knew it was probably a matter of a few years.

Mom was, for as long as I can remember, quite sickly. It all started in her youth with rheumatoid arthritis. That led to a disease whose name I’ve totally forgotten (something in Latin). It destroyed her kidneys and possibly was also partially behind many of the other issues she had. She had breast cancer, a minor heart condition, quite severe osteoporosis, and… some other minor stuff I’m forgetting. It’s been a while.

Anyway, the point is: her body was quite a wreck. I remember one time when we took the bus to somewhere and sat on places reserved to disabled. I think she noticed how I glanced at the sign a bit hesitantly, as she said lightly, "Oh, don't worry, if you count together all my disability percentages, it goes way past hundred. There's some for you too." And that is what I truly respected in her. She never let her troubles to put her down, or stop her from living her life. I remember this photo of her sitting on the ground, tending the vegetable patch while wearing a neck brace after an operation. Some of her friends told me after her death how they admired her for never complaining. That's not quite true, of course she did complain, but it was very rare. I do remember how, a day before her death when we visited her at the hospital, she was quite irritable, complaining about feeling so bad… I got scared then, cause I knew that it had to be bad for her to show it so clearly. But as long as she lived, she never gave up. Here’s one more example. She had that neck operation when I was a child. Then, a decade later, something in her neck moved and a nerve got jammed, so to say. That caused her to have pain in her arms if she was up longer than 5 minutes. But even so, she didn't just stay in the bed. She'd dust the shelves for a few minutes, lie down when it started hurting, get up when the pain ended, dust some more and so on.

Yeah… I'm not sure why I started writing this. I guess I just wanted to talk about her. Remember her. I think I'll always miss her… but I'm so grateful that I've had a Mom like her, for as long as I did. She could have very well died when I was still a child.

As it's spring now, and everything's beginning to bloom... here's us in an apple tree at my grandparents', once upon a time.

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And now this pic brought a poem to my mind. This post will never end. ^^; But. I just need to share this. (English translation after the original.)

Jossakin kimaltelee lapsuutesi virta omenankukat varisevat nuoruutesi vuorilla ja sinä lepäät virran tytär omenankukkien sisar maan nainen äiti ystävä nyt niin hiljainen.

Somewhere glistens the river of your childhood apple blossoms fall on the mountains of your youth and you rest daughter of the river sister of the apple blossoms woman of earth mother friend now so quiet.

Lassi Nummi (my translation)