#i do have a great (albeit chaotic and ever-changing) fashion sense

[constant-internal-screamin]

Hi friends! I made a quiz that tells you which wizard you are! (no H*rry P*tter)

[kurtty-drabbles]

Dragon au (edited version)

N/A: A sequel of the dragon au that Djinmer4 did. 

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling

In limbo, the new hell is a chaotic mess Shadowcat and Magik face one of their greatest challenges so far, Darkchylde in her most powerful form, as Belasco watches the scene unfold amused.

"Give up, little girl," Darkchylde said mocking Magik "you can´t win without the dark power, I´m stronger than you"

Magik summon her armour and with her soulsword merely smirk at the demon in front of her. As Kitty is dealing with one of the Darkchylde´s goon thanks to her cunning and phasing abilities.

"I´m Magik, I´m Illyana Rasputin, and you are nothing," Magik said and she uses her magic power and both dashes against each other, Magic didn't let her sword crash against Darkchylde´s sword, she aims for the head and cut in one move.

"We defeat the Darkchylde" Magik and Kitty look at Belasco who seem to just watch a great show "now, tell us, Belasco, where is Nightcrawler"

Belasco laughs and before giving his input, Magik speaks.

"Our Nightcrawler," she said making Kitty a bit curious with this phrase but now is not the time to ponder about Magik´s business.

"Oh, right, Darkchylde change him into a dragon and the boy is confused flying around" Belasco is focusing on Kitty with a malicious smile on his face "poor Nightcrawler, unrequited love was his downfall"

Kitty didn´t like his insinuation. For several reasons. And demands to know where is Nightcrawler and Belasco said amused as if he is the only one seeing the bigger picture.

________________________________________

A dragon is not something easier to miss. As soon both Magik and Kitty leave the new hell reports of a new dragon flying around hit Excalibur, X-men and any superhero. Someone said(albeit in a joking fashion) that maybe calling the Iron fist would be a good idea.

"Shut this whorish mouth, asshole, we won´t call for a bully and a killer," Kitty said as people can see she is no fan of a man that got his power by killing a dragon.

"What we do?" Magik said the new dragon is obviously Kurt, the colours are matching perfectly. "I have some spells, but, first, we need to make him stay in the ground and that is a bit hard to do"

Kitty flying right away as Lockheed stay with Illyana.

"No, is not, Yana, please, is there a spell to change him back?" Kitty asked pleading with the witch from hell.

"Yes, there is, but really need to stay in the ground or the spell won´t work" and adds "and you will try to talk some sense to a dragon nightcrawler, right?"

"You know me" she winks at Yana and goes flying to where Kurt is. Roaming in sorrow(the sadness is strong with him) and Kitty knows deep down he is still there. Kurt is still Kurt, is just instead of fur he has scales.

The dragon finally spot Kitty and is confused, Storm and Jean tried to make him calm down but it was impossible, however, he did feel at easy with Kitty´s presence.

"I know who you are," she said going to the dragon" and I was looking for you, Kurt Wagner, my sweet fuzzy elf, I know you are here" she is hugging his face "and I couldn´t ever forsake you, Kurt, I´m here, you are fine, you will be fine"

The dragon seems to believe in her word as is finally coming down to the ground as Yana recites a spell and the once the dragon is now a fuzzy elf that is hugging one Kitty Pryde as life depends on it. The hug is reciprocated.

Kurt Wagner looks at Kitty who kisses his forehead, saying that Belasco is wrong on many subjects. And now, Kurt Wagner is finally at home.

[andlikelions]

Quick- while a have a second...

What is free time and how do you spend it? Time is flipping by like the wrinkly pages of a full journal turning in the breeze. It feels ok. Actually it feels good sometimes. People have been incessantly complaining about the weather and the rain. I do look forward to the sunny days too, but I invite the rain. And the growth is just awesome; the green and buds and gardens..

I made it through the storm of winter. A Great triumph. The horizon is buttery and tired- in a desperate sigh of relief sort of way. The water between it and me is wavy and trustingly sure.

The herd of supports are not far, some further in distance albeit not far by sentiment.

I sense a foundation.

I was sure of this the day and moment that I subconsciously decided it was time to mend my relationship with my mom and dad. It looked like sending random messages to my dad to say, “hey I heard [such and such song] today, it made me think of when you used to play guitar for us as kids.” For my mom, I got her a forsythia and told her it was for her to plant on our property to have a sanctuary for the people she’s lost that she loves and wants to remember and visit.

It wasn’t deliberate or forced, which is how I always thought it would be.

I love my job. I love the relationships, I love the connections. I feel knowledgeable while at the same time I’m learning for the first time. I can give without giving everything.

The dynamic is interesting, I click really well with the providers, and I am working my way into the rest of the staff. They have been very accepting, given the territory. There is always the feeling of needing to play along with the hierarchy in order to reach the pack. The boundaries are strong and invisible. That’s most everywhere. I know I give off the kind soul vibe and the impression that I am capable without being condescending or pretentious of any kind.

On my wing I am the only nurse to work with a male provider, and many think he has a chauvinistic egotistical side when really I sense he is absolutely harmless and while a little cynical as a result of time spent in healthcare, he’s actually very reflective and I think has honest intentions- for the most part. I gather a little tension for that reason, but I am good at brushing that to the side. I know what my job is, I do it well, I can do it independent of him, and I can seek out my resources when I need them. Plus he has a smile that feels like a hug and a very endearing nerdy playful way about him. Not to be misunderstood for longing, that is not at all the case.

The hours and days are quite long. I do wish I could work one less day each week. I am so so happy to see Grace in the morning and at dinner time though. It’s worth it in ways.

I went off Prozac and felt the hypothetical life raft drift away. It felt a little shaky but my heart and senses assured my I’d be ok. And I am. I am very happy.

I have some kind of viral enteritis going on and so I feel pathetic and needy. Thankfully I know I can grant myself permission to be a whiney leech. I think it is in part due to the fact that I still produce even when feeling like hell. I did lots of laundry, was on the phone with vermonthealthconnect.org and the IRS for 3 hours settling a missing form to complete our tax return. I made a bangin’ dinner of wild salmon in coconut oil and toasted fresh thyme, and a cold quinoa salad with lemon, olive oil, spinach, parsley, tomatoes and sprouts. Washed two rounds of dishes. I told Grace two or three stories. I’m a pretty kickass wife/mother/woman. Although I’m sure Ashton would eagerly request a little more action between the sheets. Even in that case I consider myself judicious.

We are not on birth control anymore. Last month was a miss, although I’m pretty sure I ovulated earlier than I originally thought.

The geneticist got in touch with me about a week ago to say our final test- the karyotype testing Ashton and I both did came back with an answer. Ashton’s chromosome 1 and 6 are fine (these are the two affected chromosomes in Margot- one had a deletion error one had a duplication error). Mine however showed what is known as a translocation of nucleic acids, meaning my nucleic acids are arranged in an atypical fashion which is how/why Margot ended up with her condition. That said, atypical is not the worst case scenario. My genes were determined not defective, just arranged atypically. Usually we have a mechanism that picks up on this during meiosis and corrects it. Or usually this type of ‘problem’ would be without a doubt a miscarriage.

I’ve thought a great deal about it all. It never occurred to me that I’m faulty even though Margot’s demise can be traced back to me. Maybe it’s my new relationship with life and death. It has never felt like an accident or a scientific snafu. Never not once.

I’ll never forget the conversation with the genetic counselor that day. Yet again I was handed information that I wasn’t prepared for and didn’t know how to let it in. I had been on yet another fix thinking Lyme had something to do with it. This was not Lyme, and I could rest assured- at least by that count. Leanne told me to take a good look at myself in the mirror and to look Grace in the eyes and take in how miraculous and wondrous and healthy she is. And to just feel the health that I had for that very moment. She wanted to help me reign in and to anchor back to a functional state where I could continue to be. She offered herself for advice of any kind and reassured me she’d be available to talk during my next pregnancy. I will never ever forget how much that conversation changed me.

We have our final conference call with the genetics center in Burlington, the specialty geneticist in Boston, the head of the pathology department at UVMMC (who was in charge of Margot’s post morgen all-the-while pregnant herself), another lab scientist, and Margot’s last doctor while she was alive. I should think of some questions. At some point I will. Thankfully they want to help us so badly they come up with questions in anticipation.

So here we are, living after the death of our daughter. Living alongside the life of our other magical daughter, and preparing to continue down the path of more offspring. I have no fear. I really don’t. I know I will at times, I know waiting for test results from having CVS performed at 9 weeks gestation will cause anxiety. But I’m not powerless or defeated. I have a very special life and incredibly special and sacred connections. What else could I possibly hope for. That part of me is satiated in a way that leaves me able to enjoy what I should and deserve to enjoy. Besides, other people around me deserve for me to be the best me even if the best is sometimes treading, tired and broken.

I laid in the bathtub today while Grace was napping. I haven’t taken a bath in a really long time. I put on spa radio on Pandora. It struck a chord with me and reminded me of this morning when I was bringing Nina to the vet in Montpelier. Just as I was driving by Grace’s daycare, Writers Almanac came on. In the bathtub I sobbed so hard I shook. Tears are streaming as I write this. Writers Almanac reminds me of all the mornings we drove to daycare as a family, when I hadn’t made the shift back to work yet. There was so much anticipation of what around the corner would look like. It marked time in a way nothing has as of late. It brought a deep sense of grief, and it felt so good. Not the sadness but the recognition. To not be caught up and to let those powerful moments bring me to my knees. It made my think about my need to continuously reevaluate, to remember patience with Grace (she’s in a sharp phase of there is no love like the love for her daddy- and mommy is not really necessary), to enjoy the scene even if it’s through a lens that is blurry by the rain or sad by heartbreaking stories.

I catch glimpses of peace through my sometimes chaotic days. And my sense of duty has never felt so mysterious yet attainable.