#they got their addiction of candy from their sugar rush siblings

[sockiepuppetry]

So apparently in the Ralph breaks the internet concept art, Calhoun and Felix were going to have biological children

I love that they went with adoption instead but this would've been interesting, so I decided to make some designs for slightly older versions of them.

[taste-in-music]

My Favorite Albums of 2019

It’s that time of the year again folks! 2019 was year filled with exciting new releases by some of my all-time favorite artists being dropped left and right at an overwhelming rate. Not only that, there were so many debut full-length projects from artists that had been simmering in the EP zone for years, or had otherwise gotten onto my radar from their shorter efforts in years prior. Needless to say, I found this year to be even more enjoyable and enthralling than last year, and last year was pretty great. I’m going to stop rambling. Like last year’s list, this is in no particular order with the exception of the final album, which is my favorite album of the year. 

Dedicated by Carly Rae Jepsen: Part of me was nervous for this album’s release. How could Queen Carly Rae possibly follow up the modern pop masterpiece that is E•MO•TION? However, my nervousness was sated when I heard the single “Now That I Found You,” which, I’m going to say it, is the best pop song of the year. Hands down, no competition even came close. It slams every single time I put it on. The whole album is a lot of fun to listen to, from the glimmering sugar-rush synths on the opening track “Julian” to the playful Popeye sample on “Everything He Needs.” If for any reason you’re still a Jepsen skeptic stuck on her being the “Call Me Maybe Girl,” give this album and E•MO•TION a try and you will realize just how much she has to offer.

My Top Tracks: Now That I Found You, Party For One, Happy Not Knowing

Heard It In A Past Life by Maggie Rogers: This album dropped in January and it’s safe to say it was my first favorite album of the year. I’d been counting down the days to this since falling in love with Now That The Light Is Fading early last year. I made an entire post reacting to this album, and while some of my thoughts have changed since then, I can still say that this project has an array of great folk-pop songs with excellent vocals and lush production. Classics like “Alaska” are always fun to return to, but the deeper cuts are what really shine on this project. The bounciness of “The Knife” cements it as an essential Summer bop, “Say It” is an achingly relatable and sensually delivered unrequited love song, the fluttering opening chorus of angels on “Retrograde” gives me chills every time, and “Back In My Body” reduces me to an emotional wreck.

My Top Tracks: The Knife, Retrograde, Back In My Body

Sucker Punch by Sigrid: Sometimes you just need to listen to something that will make you happy, and this album offers joy in spades. Sigrid’s vocals range from fleeting and emotional to raspy, but are always charming. The production is vibrant and colorful, from the flurry of strings that open “Sight of You” to the splashy sound effects that pepper “Business Dinners” or that giant, stomping chorus on “Mine Right Now.” The hooks on this album are catchy as ever, crawling their way right into your brain and making a home there in the best kind of way. Sigrid is such a reinvigorating presence in the pop world, and while I do wish that she could have made more of a splash stateside, seeing her European success gives me hope for the future.

My Top Tracks: Sight Of You, In Vain, Don’t Feel Like Crying

Keepsake by Hatchie: If I had heard Hatchie’s debut EP Sugar & Spice last year, I’m sure that it would’ve made it onto my year end list. Thankfully, this year we’ve got an album, so I can continue to gush about Hatchie and give her the notoriety she deserves. Her vocals are filled with genuine, love stricken euphoria as they drift over fluorescent, guitar driven soundscapes. Listening to this album feels like floating away on cotton candy clouds, it’s a sugar rush of dreamy indie rock that will sweep you clean off your feet.

My Top Tracks: Stay With Me, Without A Blush, Her Own Heart

WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO? by Billie Eilish: Listen to this thing with a pair of really good headphones and you’ll be in for a whole experience and half, the production is amazing. Not only that, it’s creative. Take the vocal warping on “xanny” and “bad guy,” or the knives scraping along “you should see me in a crown,” or the sample of a dental drill used on “bury a friend.” (The only exception to this is that first track where she takes out her Invisalign. Those slurpy sounds make me cringe every time.) The rest of the albums is pretty great though. Billie Eilish and Finneas O’Connell went and crafted one of the most lyrically tight and sonically textured pop albums this year had to offer, and for that I have nothing but respect.

My Top Tracks: when the party’s over, all the good girls go to hell, bury a friend

Jade Bird by Jade Bird: Jade Bird has been one of my favorite up-and-coming artists of the past year or so, dropping not only the wonderful Something American EP but also a slew of firecracker singles in anticipation for this album. This project contains not only rock bangers that showcase the firepower and grit in Bird’s voice, (“Uh Huh,” “I Get No Joy,” “Love Has All Been Done Before,”) but also softer, somber ballads that allow her lyricism to shine, (“17,” “If I Die.”) This album is a strong debut that showcases not only promise, but prowess as well.

My Top Tracks: Uh Huh, Love Has All Been Done Before, I Get No Joy

Pang by Caroline Polachek: This album transports me to another plane of reality, melding frosty art-pop soundscapes with glistening synths and captivating melodies. Polachek’s vocals are some of the most expressive and impressive of the year, gliding through runs and jumps with ease. Each song feels like its own little world, whether it be the wistful seas of “Ocean of Tears,” the flitting pianos on “Go As a Dream,” or the funky groove of “So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings,” the most instantly addictive song of the year.

My Top Tracks: So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings, Hit Me Where It Hurts, Look At Me Now

Cheap Queen by King Princess: Everything about King Princess’s music and aesthetic is so self-assured and cool that I feel slightly unworthy of being in her presence. That doesn’t mean that this album is devoid of relatability, however, as the lyrics still touch on themes of self consciousness, (like on the opening track, “Tough On Myself,”) and the trials and tribulations of relationships, (”Prophet,” “Ain’t Together.”) The production on this album meshes King Princess’s modern feel with vintage flourishes, such as old vocal samples or record crackles, that come together to give the record a sense of timelessness. 

My Top Tracks: Tough On Myself, Cheap Queen, Hit the Back

Cuz I Love You by Lizzo: From the very first note of the very first song of this album, you know that Lizzo is putting in 1000%. Can we just sit back and thank the powers of good for allowing us to be in her presence? We truly don’t deserve her. This album has everything, from empowerment anthems, (”Like A Girl,” “Tempo,”) to heartbroken ballads, (the title track, “Jerome,”) to roof-raising bops, (”Juice,” “Exactly How I Feel.”) Every element of this project, from the vibrant production to the powerful vocals to the lyrics, emulates such a sense of confidence and love that by the end of each listen I have no choice but to stan both Lizzo and myself. 

My Top Tracks: Cuz I Love You, Juice, Jerome

Atlanta Millionaires Club by Faye Webster: This album is one of the most charming listens of the year, I heard the very first line of the very first song and fell head over heels in love. Faye Webster’s tear-stained R&B-infused folk pop walks the line between catchy and melancholic, joyful and melodic, just perfectly. “Kingston” gets my award for dreamiest song of the year, I can’t think of any other song that is able to put me at ease faster. Whether she’s lamenting about her best friend being her dog or letting Father jump on a track to deliver the chillest rap verse ever, she’s got something you’ll love up her sleeve.

My Top Tracks: Kingston, Jonny, Room Temperature

Norman Fucking Rockwell! by Lana Del Rey: As soon as I heard “Mariner’s Apartment Complex” last year, my expectations for this album skyrocketed through the roof. Needless to say, this album didn’t disappoint, and is in my opinion Lana’s strongest work to date. Norman Fucking Rockwell! features some of the most mature and sharp songwriting, beautiful performances, and sweet melodies of her whole career. The title track works like a diss track, as Lana roasts the subject in question with beautiful eloquence. The lilting syllables on the chorus of “Bartender” allow the song to nestle deep in your brain and stay for a while. The atmosphere of the album reminds me of a cool day in early September, driving down the coastline of rural California, and I adore it.

My Top Tracks: Norman fucking Rockwell, Cinnamon Girl, Mariners Apartment Complex

Don’t Feed The Pop Monster by Broods: What a fun and refreshing listen this turned out to be! Whether it’s with a Summery synthpop jam on “Peach,” the 90s-eque grunge of “Old Dog,” or the heartbroken pleading on “Why Do You Believe Me?” Broods always deliver. While the sound of this project is a bit all over the place, that doesn’t mean that it isn’t cohesive, as it is grounded by the creative force that is the Nott siblings. If you’re on the hunt for some pop that’ll keep you on your toes, then this should be right up your alley. (Also, get some good headphones, wrap yourself up in a fuzzy blanket, and really take in “Life After.” You won’t regret it. That song continuously brings me to tears. Just beautiful.)

My Top Tracks: Peach, Sucker, Life After

Practice Magic and Seek Professional Help When Necessary by Tōth: I think I’ve finally found an album that can finally help define as “warlock music.” I stumbled across Tōth due to his involvement in the band Rubblebucket, (whose song “Fruity” made my favorite songs of the year list last year,) and what a hidden gem his music turned out to be. There’s a kind of sweet peacefulness that inhibits this album that always keeps me coming back for another listen. The lyrics follow a painful breakup and the healing process after, and the tone of the music wonderfully matches the fragility of that state of mind. The instrumentals are soft and somber, but also have some unique elements sprinkled in, (take the trumpet solo on “No Reason” or the clip-clopping groove on “Copilot.) If you need an album to put on to just unwind, give this one a try, I really love it.  

My Top Tracks: Copilot, No Reason, Picture Of You

Good At Falling by The Japanese House: Let’s contextualize my love for this project. When I heard the single “Follow My Girl” last year, it literally made my jaw drop with its beauty. Now, it’s not even my favorite song from this album. The plucky guitars on “You Seemed so Happy” gets me smiling from the very first chord, and the rhythmic rush that follows each chorus in “Wild” makes my heart skitter. Amber Bain’s vocals are coated in their signature layer of slick vocoding, allowing them to drift over the icy soundscapes with ease. Just lovely.  

My Top Tracks: Follow My Girl, We Talk All The Time, You Seemed so Happy

LÉON by LÉON: And here we have it folks, my favorite album of the year. After years of only releasing EPs, LÉON finally delivered her first full-length project, and it did not disappoint in the slightest. This album’s got it all, both the ever-bouncy bops and the heartbroken ballads that make me miss a relationship that isn’t even mine. LÉON's vocals are as warm and smoky as ever, the melodies are instantly catchy, and the lyrics are to-the-point yet endlessly effective. “Hope Is A Heartache” discusses working through possessive feelings following a breakup, and hits like a gut punch every time. Her voice shines on the “Cruel To Care” voice memo, where she sings in one take over a simple plucked guitar. Other favorite moments include the airy, vocoded “Pink,” (an excellent unrequited love song that tunes into my clownery,) and the doo-wop “ooh-woo”-ing add-libs on “Baby Don’t Talk.” 

My Top Tracks: Baby Don’t Talk, Falling, Pink

Also, if Saved by Now, Now had come out this year it would be #1 on this list. 

What were your favorite albums of 2019? Did you listen to any of these albums? Leave your recommendations and thoughts down below.

[saintaugustinerp]

Congratulations Holly! You have been accepted for the role of The Golden Heir with the faceclaim Émile Woon. Please be sure to check out the accepted applicants checklist! Also be sure send us a link to your blog within the next twenty-four hours. Welcome to St. Augustine!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/alias: holly

Age (18+) : 21

Gender/Preferred pronouns: female, she/her

Timezone: pst

IN CHARACTER

Desired Skeleton: The Golden Heir Character Name: Julien Moreau

Age (18+): Twenty-one

Gender/Pronouns: Cismale, he/him

Hometown: Ottawa, Canada

Major: Political Science

Desired Faceclaim: Émile Woon

Character blurb:

He gingerly steps onto the platform, toting rosy cheeks and a practiced grace. This is understandable considering the lineage he stems from — a background that everyone who surrounds him is intimately aware of, including you. He is well-dressed, well-fed, well-loved, and all of these factors exude from every pore of his being. There is a faint glow that radiates from him; the aura of untouched naivety, of someone who lives blissfully free of worldly worries. He offers you a warm grin as he walks past, though it does not seem to reach his eyes. Still, you cannot help but smile back.

Developed Headcanons:

HISTORY: Julien’s father is the highly respected speaker for the Canadian parliament, and his mother runs a slew of non-profit foundations, and deems herself a socialite in her off hours (read: stay-at-home mom, without much of the mom part, and more of the thinly veiled alcoholism and marital problems). He has one sibling — a bratty younger sister, Anais — who he deeply cherishes. His family name is delicately braided into the foundations of the French and Canadian governments; information that is well-known to familial outsiders. All of them have established connections in high places, as their reputation and lineage overshadow any and all other personal details.

His childhood is etiquette classes, private tutors, lavish events, and the echoes of empty rooms in a house that is far too large. The essential fares of a lonely rich boy, though he doesn’t consider himself to be particularly lonesome. He is well-off and pampered, with parents who pay heaps of attention to him, despite being caught up in their own affairs. He is showered with near endless accolades throughout his youth, grooming a belief that the world is giving and kind, and the people who inhabit it are inherently good, keeping him trapped in a bubble of opulent warmth.

Though every moment is quietly controlled, and every action laced with the constant fear of mistake or failure, he is still — generally — quite contented with his life.

(Or at least, he can fake it enough to make everyone believe that, including himself.)

PERSONALITY: ( alignment — lawful neutral / mbti — esfj / zodiac — taurus )

His image is clean-cut and untarnished, making it easy for others to project whatever they desire onto him. Everyone who surrounds him views him differently — the golden child, the loving friend, the gifted student, the talented athlete. None of the interpretations ever seem to skew on the negative side, at least the ones he is aware of.

He was bred to hold a fear of negative emotions, and shown that the only viable option to stay above the heap is to project a very particular image. Those kinds of feelings are to be expressed only in private, only out of the public eye, if expressed at all. Interactions between his family unit are either unbearably positive in that ‘a very special episode’ sort of way, or heavily weighted periods of uncomfortable silence.This has contributed to a complete suppression of negative feelings, to the point that for a long while, it appeared they were going to exist in a permanent lock-down.

The events of the past year have proven to be an excellent lock-pick, as gradual cracks in the canvas have begun to form. Within, he is a deeply troubled kid. Worrying lack of sleep, poorly handled stress, a penchant for watching depressing foreign films alone at 4 AM — these are all signs of deeper problems that he tries to brush off as simple character quirks when questioned. This neuroticism has begun to peek through the holes in occasional blowout fits of rage and depression — the aftermath of which are always desperate apologies and sheer embarrassment. The last thing he desires is pity, or for any word of these growing issues to get out into the world. His feelings are for him to repress all by himself, thank you very much.

THE PARASITE: The beginnings of Julien’s relationship with The Parasite were primarily rooted in the image obsession he has been bred with, though it certainly has bloomed into true and deep affections. He has always been somewhat of a romantic; compelled toward soppy love stories and the concept of soulmates. That four letter word does hang unspoken on his lips, and was a mere fraction away from spilling until Frederick’s death. His head has been significantly more cloudy since — though he still considers The Parasite to be one of the few presences that can truly ground him. (Oh, poor naive soul.)

THE FALLEN ANGEL: There are not many freedoms offered to Julien in the way of natural youthful rebellion, as he had been directed onto a very particular path without much room for deviation. This factor led to the development of a deep jealousy toward his peers who were permitted to run freely, feel the wind in their hair and all that cliche ‘coming-of-age’ nonsense. This jealousy presents itself in his adult life as a sense of superiority over those who live recklessly, and of those who experience the consequences. If he is able to keep his head on straight, exist carefully between the lines, why should he be expected to sympathize with those who throw that all away?

The Fallen Angel’s fall from grace is tragic, yes, but in his mind, they are simply facing the heat for their actions. Julien harbors regret for how he has treated them, but he cannot be expected to throw his work, his reputation, his name into the flames to keep one person warm.

THE GOOD SAMARITAN: They were rugby teammates and friends, and though it’d be a stretch to say they were close, there was never any bad blood or tension between them — as two kindhearted and popular year twos, they got along quite well.

Frederick’s death has proven to be quite the blow to Julien’s mental state. He grew up incredibly sheltered from the pains of the world, outside of the charity balls his mother would throw for starving children or dying animals or whatever tragedy she chose to care about that month, so being personally involved in one has resulted in feelings he is unaccustomed to. He carries the thought that he could’ve done something, if only he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own business. If he would’ve just been paying attention, he would’ve seen him wander off into the woods alone… he has been plagued by recurring nightmares about the bonfire in light of this guilt.

MAJOR: Political Science was not quite the major he would’ve chosen for himself, but it was essentially a base level expectation that he would follow in the footsteps of his family and pursue a career in the political world. He receives high marks, but has approximately zero passion for the work he is doing. He is still about a second away from switching to Philosophy or Literature or anything that would be more engaging.

INTERESTS: He has a frankly astounding addiction to caffeine. Seeing as he very rarely gets enough sleep — both due to his schedule being packed to the brim, and his own propensity for staying up for no reason — he relies on about five cups of coffee a day. (Or a noxious mix of random energy drinks and an assortment of painfully sugary candy, though that is a potion for only the most dire of occasions.)

As a pretentious child of wealth, offered private schools and personalized tutoring, it is only natural Julien adore reading as an adult. He was raised on the pompous classics, though his all time favorite book will forever be The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.

Though he grew up in a house with maids, his mother always made certain that baked goods were personally prepared with her family recipes. And as a boy with a sweet tooth that will not quit, a blend of Malay and French desserts comprise the most nostalgic flavors of his childhood. In times of immense stress, he would sneak to their expansive kitchen in the middle of the night, hastily (and poorly) prepare a galette or a red bean kuih or whatever else his tongue was vying for, and scarf it down like a seasoned champ. Nowadays, he’s replaced this stress relief with a (decidedly worse) smoking habit. The lack of filling pastries with the addition of endless packs of cigs has contributed to bad breath and a stomach that is perpetually craving a sugar rush.

AESTHETIC: Decorative lattes, thick hardcover books, untouched piles of snow, cozy turtlenecks, rose bushes, the click of shoes on tiled floors, kiss-swollen lips, acoustics with loads of reverb, leather oxfords, a lightly floured cutting board, whiskey glasses, ugly babies from historical paintings, ashtrays, Baz Luhrman films, an icy rugby field, the drone of coffee-shop chatter, the moment of stillness before sunrise.

Writing Sample:

The gentle glow of soft orange light. The burn that builds in the pit of his belly, flooding his veins and tingling down into his toes. A warm and inviting hand, curled into his own. Eyes crinkling with a joke being told; a genuine smile that makes his cheeks hurt.

Snow falls from the heavens. The flakes that drift before his vision, that pile softly around his feet, are blood red. He looks up — the sky is a dark crimson. When his eyes drop, everyone around the fire has vanished, leaving Frederick alone, slumped unnaturally. He tries to call to him, but no sound comes out.

Frederick turns, and his eyes are pitch black.

Julien jolts up. His breathing is labored, erratic, and his hair lays flush against his forehead, glistened with a cold sweat. His heart is making it well known that it desires a very promptexit from his chest, banging wildly against the walls of his ribcage. He spares an errant glance at the clock at his bedside — 5:32 AM — an offers a heaving sigh. A half-hour of sleep feels hardly worth it, moreso considering his mind will need far longer to quiet down.

Thin legs swing from a cozy cocoon of three thick woven quilts, and goosebumps immediately take residence. He snatches a cigarette and a well-worn lighter from his side-table, delicately plodding toward the dorm window. Oh, if only his mother could see him now: up before sunrise, eyes weighed by bags so large they could declare themselves a sovereign nation, with the final cigarette from his pack held between deft fingers. Not to mention the sheer illegality of it all, what, with him lighting up in his room. A room that was the previous lodging of monks, no less. He figures recurring horrific nightmares about your dead friend are a sound enough excuse.

(He is, however, unsure if the monks would accept that.)

He props himself beside the window, eyes grazing the skyline. The view is less than engaging at this time of the morning — snow-capped roofs, flurried flakes, and an almost uncomfortable stillness. There are a few quiet flicks, before the flames spring to life in the darkness. The smoke comes soon after, wafting in a delicate stream up to the ceiling.

How long would it take to get over this? Another puff toward the ceiling. Months? Years? He was a friend, but their closeness was nothing to write home about, so how does it figure that he is still so hung up? He has always vied to befriend everyone in their year. He’s not sure how he’d react if this happened to anyone else. Would his brain plague him with countless dreams then?

Just my year, now, he thinks, after a moment. Another puff.

Maybe he would never be over it, cursed to exist obliviously warmed and content by the bonfire, Frederick’s blackened eyes forever on him.

Other: i created a mockblog right here that is available for perusal! also thank you for reading this gigantic wall!!!!!!! :^)

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [159]

“How do I do this?” Ellana asks frustration and tiredness soaking through her voice, “How do I be good at this?”

“At what?” Bull asks as he scans through items on the receipt Grim gave him. It’s not that he thinks Grim would try and cheat and buy extra shit that Bull didn’t give him money for or anything. He just wants to make sure his kid didn’t get cheated. Grim had solemnly handed him the piece of paper along with the change left over, waited until Bull told him to scram and play with his siblings, and then rushed off to join in the frenzy of the rest of everyone plus Mahanon.

If his kid got cheated he’d probably have to stop sending them to the dollar store two blocks over. He’ll find a new place for them to practice independence and stuff. It’d be a little more out of the way and slightly less convenient, and he’d probably end up just following from afar to make sure they’re safe. But it’d work out.

“This,” Ellana says, jerking her hand between them and then Bull’s back yard where he hears the sounds of their kids running around and yelling and laughing like the little tyrannical mayhem monsters they are. “Parenting. Being a good parent. Don’t tell me it’s something that comes with age or - or something that you’re just born with.”

Bull doesn’t need to look at her to know the expression he’ll find on her face.

Ellana doesn’t want this to be something that comes with age - by then it would be too late and Mahanon would have long left the protection of her house and of childhood.

If it’s something she’s born with - well, she’d be fuck out of luck.

“It’s a combination of all of that and just - thinking,” Bull says. Because there are parts that are from age and there are parts of this that are from something innate.

Bull wasn’t always this patient. And he wasn’t always this cool tempered. These are things he’s gained over time, like callouses and habits and creases and fine lines.

And parts of Bull have always been this calm at thinking outside of the box and handling multiple trains of thought at once. It’s part of what makes him him.

“Everyone parents a little differently,” Bull says, “Don’t look at me and think you have to parent Mahanon exactly the way I parent Dalish or Grim or Stitches or any of them. He’s a different kid in a different situation. And you’re a different parent.”

The look Ellana gives him - part disbelief, part desperation, and a majority of disappointment - tells him she doesn’t believe it at all.

“You just have to talk to them, listen to them,” Bull says, “I don’t know half of what they think or feel about something unless they tell me. And by now they mostly get that.”

“But shouldn’t I just know?” Ellana asks, “I should know what he wants. What if he hates me for not knowing what he wants?”

“What are you, psychic? How would you know what your kid wants if he doesn’t tell you? And if he hates you - then tough, that sucks, but you can’t help not being able to read his mind. You talk to him. And if he talks to you, you listen. And if you aren’t sure you ask him,” Bull says. “There’s no secret. There’s just that.”

And then, for good measure, Bull holds up the list and says, “Look. See here? I sent Grim over to the corner store about an hour ago to get some things. Little things. Napkins, some straws, a couple bags of hard candy. And I gave him twenty bucks. Grim looked nervous. He’d done this before plenty of times, so I didn’t know what was wrong this time. But he didn’t look like he wanted to go. I asked him what was wrong because I could tell he wasn’t happy or cool with something I’d asked him to do and I’m not sending my kid off like that.”

“And?”

“And he signed that he’d never gone by himself with that much money before and he was nervous he’d mess it up somehow,” Bull replies. “So I had Rocky go with him and wait outside the store where Grim could see him and signal for help if he needed it. And it was fine.”

“Just like that?” Ellana asks, skeptical, picking at her nails as she glances at Mahanon.

“It’s not always that smooth,” Bull admits, “But generally, that’s what works. They’re not puzzles. You can ask them questions. I mean, mine ask me about two dozen questions per day. I don’t always have answers. But they can ask and I do my best.”

Ellana’s teeth dig into her bottom lip. “What if he asks for something I can’t give him?”

“Can’t or won’t?” Bull asks, “Because if it’s something you literally can’t give him then there’s nothing you can do and you have to try and get him to understand that. But if it’s something you won’t give him? That’s a different story. That depends on the reason why.”

Ellana presses the heels of her palms against her eyes.

“You’re the adult,” Bull continues, “Just remember that. Listening to what your kid is saying doesn’t equate to automatically giving them exactly what they want whenever. Dalish asks for cotton candy flavored toothpaste. Not in my house, we don’t. And she throws a fit every time I tell her to put it back when we’re at the grocery store, but again - not in my house we don’t.”

Ellana almost smiles at that, and she says, “Mahanon insists on the most colorful sugary cereal. It’s practically candy. It turns the milk pink. I got it for him once by mistake and now he’s eternally craving it. Like some sort of sugar goblin with a deep addiction.”

Bull grimaces, “I think I know the one. Krem and Rocky swear by that shit. I didn’t even get it for them. Dalish got it with her allowance once and she hated it, but those two boys fell in love with that crap. I’m terrified of them getting cavities or early diabetes. I’ve removed cereal from our house to avoid that issue. It’s either a full on bacon-eggs-toast kind of day or instant oatmeal day.”

Ellana is now, definitely, smiling. “How terrible. No cereal at all? How do you even get them out the door in time?”

“Manually,” Bull says, “Most days I don’t even need to hit the gym. Getting them int he car is a thirty minute cardio-weights work out on its own.”

Ellana’s eyes flash a mischievous glint at him, “Getting Mahanon inside the house for a bath and bed is definitely leg day every day. There’s a steep hill in our back yard. He likes to run up and down it in a very large circle to avoid me. I’m already waiting for the day when his knees start to tell him no.”