#It still amuses me so much on how he remembers magical things all because Matilda showed herself and gave him god powers and things rolled

[alchemistdetective]

The Idol

#muse: eri #Or rather Modern Eri #Have one more commentary because Rirune and Modern Eri are the '''same person''' (different AUs) #As some might have guessed or already told before #I really enjoy playing him because I'm a sucker for Modern stuff #And IMO he's the easiest to throw people and start with because he has that extrovert energy about him even if he's the ordinary boy #It still amuses me so much on how he remembers magical things all because Matilda showed herself and gave him god powers and things rolled #And then there's Weaver Masako Gensokyo Goddess Reimu Celestia and all that #But the biggest struggle I have is that now he has shapeshifting-lite #I have to keep in mind not to make him just like OG Eri aka shapeshifting power abuse due to lack of self confidence #Because Modern Eri's so much more mature than he is and I have to remember that despite all his exposure to the supernatural #He is still a human living in our reality

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Louis

Rating: SFW Length: 1412 Pairing: Male Vampire Lover x Male Vampire Reader

For my sweet anon, who wanted domestic vampires.

xxx

“They’ll be gathering the pitchforks soon,” I say, chuckling as I peek through behind the curtains to the town at the bottom of our hill.

“Hm?” hums my lover, Louis—a statuesque man with hair and eyes as gold as a king’s crown. “Who, my love?”

“The townsfolk,” I impishly reply, coming away from the window to cross the room to where Louis sits, reading. I flounce my way onto his lap and he huffs his amusement, tossing his book onto the small table beside his winged chair and gathering me into his muscular arms.

“Do they whisper about us still?” he asks, smiling with his fangs on display.

“Always,” I say, tucking his hair away from his face and leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

Louis hums his content, squeezing me gently. “Let them talk,” he whispers, nuzzling his nose down against mine in a bunny kiss. “What fault is it of mine that I didn’t know the old baker had died years ago?”

“It’s my fault for craving his fruit tarts after so many years,” I grumble, pouting; I was an excellent chef and baker in my own right, but some cooks kept their secrets guarded jealously, and I could never recreate that particular baker’s tarts to my satisfaction. “Do you think they’ll let me copy his recipe book now that he’s gone?”

“I’d gladly steal it for you,” says Louis, smiling softly and slowly in that way that lets me know he’s all about mischief.

“Louis! I’d never want to leave them without their tarts.”

My lover makes an irritable noise in the back of his throat. “Much more charitable than I,” he mutters, pressing kiss after sweet kiss to my lips. “I would deny them everything if it gave you what you wanted.”

“I know,” I giggle, squirming happily under his onslaught. “Because you love me.”

“Because I adore you,” he corrects, standing up and setting me daintily on my feet. “Because I worship you, the only man I consider my equal, my minx, my muse, my inspiration.”

“Flatterer,” I laugh, feeling myself flush with pleasure; he always knew how to make my heart flutter as gaily as a boy’s after all these years.

Louis takes my hands and kisses them, nipping at my knuckles with his sharp incisors. “It is all true,” he says, drawing me close just to spin me away from himself, but never too far away to reel me back in so that we dance chest to chest. “You are my recovery.”

This stirs my heart more than I can express. I remember a time when Louis was a tormented soul, feeding upon humans and starving himself in the times between, weak and trembling and pale. Now, we feed upon our healthy cattle and never to excess, and my lover is graceful and flushed beneath his golden skin. He moves with confidence instead of shame, and his magic comes to him quietly and steadily instead of being a wild and intemperate thing.

“Come downstairs and brush the girls with me,” I wheedle, trying to distract him from his amorous thoughts.

“In a moment,” he says, humming an old and beautiful tune as he takes me around the room. He’s watching me intently, and at my questioning look, he says, “Your eyes are the most beautiful colour I have ever seen, my sylph.”

I flush all the way down to my neck, biting my lower lip with my own fang. “They’re only brown,” I mumble, dismissive.

“They are like the finest red wine in the sunlight,” he insists, voice quiet and tone earnest. “Like burnt sugar and rich clay and all of what our flowers grow in.”

“Louis!” I say around my laughter, spluttering and shying away from him. “How silly you sound, you gilded god!”

Louis grins and kisses the inside of my wrist, up along my arm. “And you are my caramel dryad, whose very touch brings life.”

“Stop it, you goose egg!” I’m all a-titter, laughing like a vapid coquette. “Come downstairs and spend time with me outside of this stuffy library.”

“You decorated this library,” he reminds me, taking my arm and sweeping me out of the offending room.

“And I think it looks appropriately stuffy, like a library should,” I reasonably reply, feeling mischief making my old bones light and my steps airy. “Shall we tend to the garden together? The magnolias are in full bloom.”

“I know it,” he says, leading me down the stairs and through the old kitchens to the back yard. “I saw Matilda dozing beneath one earlier, with flowers on her horns.”

“Oh, I hope she births soon,” I murmur, anxiety fluttering in my chest.

Louis brings my hand up to kiss, nipping my knuckles sharply this time, to get my attention and turn my thoughts away from my fretting. “She’ll be fine. She’s done this once before.”

“Oh, I know,” I tut, mostly at myself, “but you know she’s my favourite.”

“Is she?”

“Don’t give me that look. Second to you, as always.”

“Hm.”

“Pouty baby.”

“I’m not pouting.”

“You’re pouting on the inside.”

“You can see inside of me? How exposing.”

“Only sometimes,” I say, linking my fingers between his as we walk down to where our cows are still grazing on pasture as the sun goes down. “Sometimes you’re like a wall, but the wall still has writing on it.”

“I should hope that you can read it, after 250 years.”

“Two-hundred fifty-three,” I smugly rectify, smiling up at my lover even as he rolls his eyes.

“Precisely,” says Louis, flashing a fang and squeezing my hand. He takes me to the shed where we pick up our tools, from brushes to hedge trimmers. Usually his magic would keep the grounds manicured, but I still love getting dirt under my nails and tending to my flowers. I’m lucky to have found a vampire so accommodating to my whims.

We share dinner together and I tell him about my day running around the estate, finding things that need doing and getting them done. There are still parts of the castle that are filled with dust and cobwebs after we moved in a decade ago, and I’m determined to bring them to light. Louis listens to me with interest and tells me of his business dealings with far-off merchants, which he’s been trying to include me in for a few generations. I’m finally coming around to the idea, despite being spiritually averse to mathematics and the thought of dealing with finances making me break out in hives.

“You’ll do marvellously,” Louis tells me, smiling at me from across our meal; it’s a human meal and it won’t sustain us, but the mushrooms are divine, if I do say so, myself.

I scoff, picking at the food in front of me. “You say that…”

“I mean it.”

“You need a head for finances if you’re to be a businessman.”

“Only if you deal with finances. I’ve long thought you would be a good businessman by charm and guile alone, regardless of your skill with maths.”

I cough around my wine, snorting softly. “That’s a very lovely way to say that I’d get by on looks alone.”

“You would not,” Louis snaps, tiring of my self-deprecation. “You are beautiful, yes, but clever besides, with an eye for business and a resourcefulness that kept you alive around me when I was at my worst. I will tolerate many things, my love, but down talk of yourself is something I will not.”

I avert my gaze, shamed and humbled all at once. “Even after all this time, I wonder why you—”

“Do not,” Louis firmly replies, pushing aside his plate and rising, “doubt my love for you. I would destroy this world and everything in it if it meant a better place for you to thrive.”

“Louis,” I sigh, allowing him to pull me up against his chest and nuzzling in at his broad chest. “I know it. I know it, my love. I’m sorry.”

“No,” murmurs Louis, kissing the top of my head and tucking me closer still. “Don’t apologise to me. Do better by yourself. That’s all that I ask.”

“I will,” I promise, looking up into his golden eyes and his fine, enigmatic features.

Louis smiles in the way that he only smiles for me, stroking along my back. “That is all that I ask,” he says again, and kisses me soundly.

#exophilia #gay exophilia #mlm exophilia #exophilia fic #monster romance #monster boyfriend #vampire boyfriend #vampires #Louis #I love Louis so much and he loves his darling with all his aching heart #My work

[isidar-mithrim]

Letters from Hogwarts – Hermione

For more than a thousand years, every summer, in the United Kingdom, the lives of a lucky cluster of eleven years old are radically changed.

These are the stories of four of them.

The fourth is that of a girl rational enough to know she was special, but too rational to admit it.

{Fourth installment of the ‘Letters from Hogwarts’ series, but it stands alone}

{‘Letters from Hogwarts’ on tumblr: Neville, Gus and Remus; on Ao3: Neville, Gus, Remus and Hermione}

________________________________

Thanks so much to @siderumincaelo for betaing this story!! ^^

And happy birthday, Hermione! :D

This is a companion piece of  Night in Transylvania (on Ao3), but the stories can be read independently and in whichever order you prefer.

_________________________________

Of Matilda, War and Peace

°1985°

“Excuse me, are you the librarian?”

The man with the white beard behind the counter raised his head, offering Hermione a radiant smile.

“I am,” he said with a little bow. “At your service, milady.”

“I’m looking for a book, sir.”

He winked. “You’re in the right place, then. Do you remember how it’s called?”

“Well, I’m not looking for a specific one, just for one with a real story. I can’t keep reading books for little kids with pictures and nursery rhymes anymore.”

The librarian chuckled with amusement. “You are a bright kid, aren’t you?”

“And a very particular one,” said her mum with a smile, caressing her hair. “It turns out that Elmer the Patchwork Elephant is too simple for her.”

“I finished it in thirteen minutes!” It was obvious that she would have found it simple.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll manage to find a real book that suits you.” The librarian walked around his desk with a delighted expression and gestured for them to follow. “Come, I’ll show you the junior section.”

Hermione nodded, pleased, and she followed him over the stairs, making an effort to keep up with his steps.

“So, young lady, may I ask you how old are you?”

“I’m five years and a half old,” she answered promptly, her chin held high.

The librarian turned toward her, his eyes wide in surprise. “Five years and a half? Then you’re even smarter than I thought!”

“I’m the only one in my classroom that can read proper books,” said Hermione, happy to clear things out. “The other girls still play with their Barbies.”

“Once in a while you could play with them too, Hermione.” Her mum gave her a gentle smile. “There’s nothing wrong in it, and books don’t run away.”

“Oh, well, sometimes our books do!” said the librarian with mirth. “One day they vanish, and they never come back.”

Hermione’s heart missed a beat, and she swallowed hard. “ Vanish? You mean… into thin air?”

Her mum squeezed her shoulder, but the librarian chuckled again. “More like at somebody’s place. I’m afraid not everyone remembers to bring back the books on loan, but I’m sure this won’t be your case.”

Hermione’s heart calmed down. There was nothing to worry about: books couldn’t just vanish in thin air. Nothing could: her teacher had said it very clearly when Julia had made up that her Barbie had suddenly disappeared while she was playing.

“And here we are! This is our junior section.”

Only the label at the entrance distinguished it from the rest of the library: there were shelves upon shelves filled with books, real books, and Hermione nodded in approval.

“Give me a minute to pick something that might intrigue you, then you’ll tell me which story appeals to you the most, okay?”

Hermione stared in awe while the librarian checked rack after rack, grazing the covers with his fingers in search of the right title. Once in a while he stopped to pull out a book: sometimes he nodded satisfied and held it under his left arm, other times he put it back, shaking his head.

He seemed quite pleased when he finally came back to her, laying four books on a little table.

“Et voilà!”

The old man took the first book and showed her the front cover, a picture of a beautiful girl with an aquamarine dress.

“Swan Princess. It’s about a princess cursed by an evil sorcerer and –”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve already seen the animated movie,” cut in Hermione. “And I don’t want a princess story, anyway.”

The librarian raised his eyebrows, taken aback. “No princesses?”

Hermione shook her head, making her bushy hair dance in front of her eyes, and he chuckled with amusement.

“I reckon I should have seen it coming,” he said good-naturedly, winking at her mum. “Now I understand why you said you have a particular daughter.”

Mum smiled. “I knew you’d agree, eventually. I should have warned you that at the moment princesses aren’t her cup of tea.”

Hermione huffed, annoyed. How many times did she have to explain to her mum that she didn’t like that kind of stuff anymore? “It’s not my fault if princess stories are all the same.”

“I can see your point,” agreed the librarian. “I won’t waste your time suggesting this novel, then.” He moved the second book at the bottom of the pile and picked the third one. “This is The Secret Garden. It’s about a girl that finds out how to sneak into a garden and starts exploring it with her friend Colin. What do you say, think this might suit you?”

Hermione studied carefully the drawing on the cover. In the middle of the page, a girl with curly blonde hair and a red coat was peering through a hedge.

“Maybe,” she conceded with a hint of curiosity. She wanted to see the last book as well, before making a decision.

The librarian clapped his hands cheerfully. “Particular, and prudent! In all frankness, I think you’re right to be cautious, because it’s time to see my fourth – well, third – recommendation.” He leant closer and spoke in a whisper, his hand around his mouth as he was confiding her a secret. “And I assure you it’s no coincidence that I kept it for last.”

He held the book in front of her with a certain reverence. A girl with straight brown hair and fair skin sat on a wooden box with a big volume opened on her legs, and piles and piles of coloured books rose from the ground around her.

And just like that, Hermione knew.

“It’s the story of –”

“I’ll take this one.”

The librarian gave her a bright smile. “I knew you’d pick Matilda. Or maybe I should say the book picked you…”

°1991°

June

“It’s about a witch that falls in love with a vampire, and there are werewolves too! It’s amazing.”

“Thanks, Fardly,” said Mrs Stendeer, writing down the title on the blackboard. “Granger?”

“Well, I believe spending the summer reading about children’s fantasies such as sorcerers, unicorns and vampires would be a real waste of time, since these things don’t exist,” stated Hermione. “I’d rather suggest trying out War and Peace. A light reading, I finished it in eight days.”

The teacher gave her a strained smile before writing the title below Night in Transylvania, then she turned again toward the class.

“Mitchell, what do you propose?”

“So, how many votes for Night in Transylvania? Five… ten… Castark, is that a raised hand? Then thirteen… fifteen… twenty-one!” Mrs Stendeer wrote down the number beside the title. “It seems you were very convincing, Fardly.”

Hermione huffed loudly, trying at the same time to convey all her disapproval and to ignore the excited giggles of her classmates.

“Now, how many votes for War and Peace?”

It was definitely harder to remain indifferent to the scornful laughs that broke out when she raised her hand, but Hermione held her arm up until the teacher had written ‘one’ beside War and Peace.

When the last bell of the year rang in the halls, her classmates screamed like little kids and rushed to the door, shoving each other in their haste to leave.

Hermione looked away and her eyes caught the line she had just written down.

Homework for the summer: read ‘Night in Transylvania’ by Stacey Moore.

She slammed her homework planner shut and shoved it in her packed schoolbag. After standing up, she slung the heavy backpack on her shoulders, adjusting the straps to balance the weight better.

“Have a good summer, Mrs Stendeer,” she said with cold courtesy.

“Thank you, Hermione.” The teacher took a deep breath, and for a moment Hermione thought she was about to add something meaningful.

She was clearly wrong, though, because “Good summer to you too,” was everything Mrs Steender deigned to add.

Hermione gave her with a curt nod, and walked out of the door.

Jayne was twelve years old and she had long black hair, intense blue eyes and a petite figure. In short, on the surface she was a girl like every other, if it wasn’t for a tiny detail.

Jayne was a witch.

While the other mothers taught her friends how to cook, her mum made her brew magic potions; while her classmates learned to dance, she studied spells to move objects. While normal girls’ only worry was not to get their clothes dirty, she trained to hunt vampires.

Hermione closed the book with an abrupt thump.

She hadn’t finished the first page yet, and she already hated it.

How silly, she thought with deep annoyance. Nobody can move objects without touching them. Nobody, not with their thoughts, not with magic.

“Magic doesn’t exist,” she said through gritted teeth. Of that she was sure: magic only existed in books – books for stupid kids.

Six days had gone by since the last time Hermione had opened Night in Transylvania, but now that she had finished Les Misérables she had run out of excuses to procrastinate her assigned reading.

She took the book from her bedside table and sat down at her desk. She usually read on her bed, but she wasn’t going to qualify something this insipid as ‘reading’.

It’s homework, Hermione told herself. And homework shouldn’t be done in bed.

After finding where she had left off, she heaved a long, resigned sigh and began reading.

Because that was her family’s specialty. Hunting vampires was an art they passed on from mother to daughter for generations, and it would continue until all the vampires in Transylvania were eradicated.

Her mother had very similar features: she had the same bushy brown hair, the same hazelnut eyes and even the same protruding front teeth.

Hermione froze, her heart beating loudly inside her chest. Her eyes feverishly skimmed over the last sentence and then went back to gaze at the first lines.

Hermione was eleven years old and she had bushy brown hair, intense hazelnut eyes and protruding front teeth. In short, on the surface she was a girl like every other, if it wasn’t for a tiny detail.

Hermione was a witch.

She dropped the book like it was burning hot, and jumped from her chair in shock when it actually caught fire.

“Please, go out, go out!” she squealed, horrified. “Please, please, stop!”

A moment later, there was only a pile of ashes on the unmarked desk.

Hermione looked at it in bewilderment, her breath still ragged.

As if by magic, the little fire had died out, even faster than it had flared up.

No, not by magic, rectified Hermione, taking a deep breath. The fire extinguished itself only after consuming the whole book, or maybe the wind put it out.

And yet, the window was closed. Hermione opened it to let in fresh air, even if she couldn’t sense any burning smell, then she lifted her bin near the edge of the desk and swept the ashes inside with trembling hands, fighting the urge to wipe her silent tears.

This time it was going to be much harder to persuade herself that it was all a dream.

°1985°

By the age of one and a half her speech was perfect and she knew as many words as most grown-ups. The parents, instead of applauding her, called her a noisy chatterbox and told her sharply that small girls should be seen and not heard.

By the time she was three, Matilda had taught herself to read by studying newspapers and magazines that lay around the house. At the age of four, she could read fast and well and she naturally began hankering after books. The only book in the whole of this enlightened household was something called Easy Cooking belonging to her mother.

Hermione was immediately won over by Matilda’s incredible abilities.

I wish I was that clever, she thought with a hint of envy.

An instant later, though, she felt terribly guilty. It must have been horrible for Matilda to have parents like that.

One and half pages later, Hermione had understood two things.

One, that her next book had to be The Secret Garden, since Matilda herself had read it.

Two, that she didn’t want to be Matilda anymore.

She would have much, much preferred having her as a friend.

That afternoon Hermione devoured page after page without ever stopping, except to write down the books Mrs Phelps recommended.

As she read, she was indignant over the dishonesty of Matilda’s father, warmed by Miss Honey’s kindness, enraged by Trunchbull’s hammer throw, impressed by Bruce Bogtrotter’s resilience, and when dinner time came, she hadn't even realised she was hungry.

Hermione ate in a hurry and then crawled under the covers.

She was laying on her stomach with the book on the pillow when the story took an unexpected turn.

Slowly Matilda sat down. Oh, the rottenness of it all! The unfairness! How dare they expel her for something she hadn’t done!

Matilda felt herself getting angrier . . . and angrier . . . and angrier . . . so unbearably angry that something was bound to explode inside her very soon.

The newt was still squirming in the tall glass of water. It looked horribly uncomfortable. The glass was not big enough for it. Matilda glared at the Trunchbull. How she hated her. She glared at the glass with the newt in it. She longed to march up and grab the glass and tip the contents, newt and all, over the Trunchbull’s head. She trembled to think what the Trunchbull would do to her if she did that.

The Trunchbull was sitting behind the teacher’s table staring with a mixture of horror and fascination at the newt wriggling in the glass. Matilda’s eyes were also riveted on the glass. And now, quite slowly, there began to creep over Matilda a most extraordinary and peculiar feeling. The feeling was mostly in the eyes. A kind of electricity seemed to be gathering inside them. A sense of power was brewing in those eyes of hers, a feeling of great strength was settling itself deep inside her eyes. But there was also another feeling which was something else altogether, and which she could not understand. It was like flashes of lightning. Little waves of lightning seemed to be flashing out of her eyes. Her eyeballs were beginning to get hot, as though vast energy was building up somewhere inside them. It was an amazing sensation.

The description was written so well that even Hermione could feel that warm, electric sensation in her own eyes. She went right back to reading, filled with curiosity.

She kept her eyes steadily on the glass, and now the power was concentrating itself in one small part of each eye and growing stronger and stronger and it felt as though millions of tiny little invisible arms with hands on them were shooting out of her eyes towards the glass she was staring at.

“Tip it!” Matilda whispered. “Tip it over!”

She saw the glass wobble. It actually tilted backwards a fraction of an inch, then righted itself again.

She kept pushing at it with all those millions of invisible little arms and hands that were reaching out from her eyes, feeling the power that was flashing straight from the two little black dots in the very centres of her eyeballs.

“Tip it!” she whispered again. “Tip it over!”

Once more the glass wobbled. She pushed harder still, willing her eyes to shoot out more power. And then, very very slowly, so slowly she could hardly see it happening, the glass began to lean backwards, farther and farther and farther backwards until it was balancing on just one edge of its base. And there it teetered for a few seconds before finally toppling over and falling with a sharp tinkle on to the desk-top. The water in it and the squirming newt splashed out all over Miss

When Hermione moved her gaze to the next word, a patch of water started expanding on the page, blurring all the letters.

Hermione looked at it with horror. The book from the library! she thought in despair, blowing on the paper in the faint hope to make things better.

Dry up, dry up, please dry up!

That’s when the book caught fire.

Hermione squealed and threw it on the ground, grabbing a slipper and hitting the book with it. Go out, go out!

With a last hit, the fire went out.

Hermione leant against her bed to catch her breath, but any chance to calm down vanished as soon as she saw the state the book was in. How am I going to explain it to the librarian? she wondered with anguish.

A moment later, she heard the door opening, and with a quick push she sent the book beneath the bed before her mum could see it.

“Hermione!” she exclaimed with worry, rushing at her side to help her get up and gently rubbing her back. “What happened, darling?”

“Just… just a dream.” Hermione’s voice was trembling, in part because of what happened, in part because of the lie and the ruined book hidden beneath her.

“Did you fall from the bed?”

“I… I think so...”

“Don’t worry, honey. Everything is fine now.” She gently kissed her forehead, and Hermione felt a bit relieved. “Now get under the covers, so I can tuck you in.”

Hermione lay on her side and hugged the pillow, letting Mum fuss over her. Her heart was still pounding, so she made a conscious effort to breathe slower. Even if her mind kept running to the ruined book beneath the bed, Mum’s soothing caresses helped her calm down.

She was finally drifting off when Mum kissed her forehead and stood up.

“What is this?” she asked a moment later, reaching down to grab something at her feet.

Hermione jerked awake and watched in horror while her mother picked up the book.

When Hermione saw it, though, her horror turned into astonishment.

Mum smiled knowingly, glancing at her bedside lamp. “You fell asleep while reading, didn’t you?” She held the undamaged copy of Matilda in front of her. “Would you like me to read it to you until you fall asleep?”

Hermione shook her head, unable to speak.

“Good night, then,” wished Mum, before turning down the lamp and leaving the room, closing the door behind her with a low click.

As soon as the sound of her steps faded away, Hermione turned on the light, eager to understand how the book could look as new.

She grabbed it and turned it over in her hands, flippin through the pages: not a patch of water, not a single word washed-out, not a corner blackened by the fire.

The book looked as if nothing had happened.

She focused on the cover, and froze when she recognised herself as the girl of the picture. She shut her eyes, and a moment later Matilda was back, lost in thought.

Clearly, it had really been just a dream… After all, only in fairytales little girls were smart enough to make things happen with their mind.

In that instant, Hermione decided that the next time she would give the librarian even more specific instructions: no princesses and, most importantly, no magic.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #harry potter #hermione granger #young hermione granger #mrs granger #mr granger #granger family #minor original characters #letters from hogwarts #pre-hogwarts #missing scene #matilda #the secret garden #library #long post #two-chapters story #happy birthday hermione!

[felicismagic18873]

Beyond the Blaze (8)

Summary: 4 Years old, Alyssa Potter finds her life taking a magical turn as she steps into a world of cute green giants, talking robots and misunderstood aliens. All of it is almost enough to make her forget the probable destruction of her own world.

Mister Robot didn't come down for lunch or dinner.

Not even to say goodnight when Mister Bruce tucked her in and went to bed himself.  She did ask after him but Mister Bruce just said, "He's down in the lab, working probably. Don't worry, he'll come up when he feels tired. You just go to sleep okay?"

But it didn't feel okay, even if she had nodded. Mister Robot was down there all alone and he-he hadn't even eaten and he must be so hungry. How could she sleep knowing that? Well, she didn't have to. She pushed off the covers and stood up striding out of her room with determination. She climbed down the stairs carefully, not wanting to fall.

Mister Bruce had made it clear that it was okay for her to do whatever she wanted in the kitchen as long as she stayed away from the stove and the knives, so she didn't feel any hesitation in taking an apple and a small bag of blueberries. She gathered them in her arms and stood near the elevator. It was time to go down.

She bit her lip looking at the ceiling hesitantly, the last time she'd gone anywhere without having permission didn't end up very well.

"Em, Mr.Jarvis?"

"Yes, Little Miss?"

"Can I go visit Mr.Robot? He's been down there for-everr", She swayed back and forth a little before remembering her aunt telling to stand straight.

"I do believe that's quite incorrect Miss. He has only been down there for approximately 9 hours. It's quite normal for sir."

"That doesn't mean its okay." She tried not to make it sound like a question, she stood up a bit straighter. "He should eat. It's not good."

"Sir could use some food.", he sounded thoughtful.

Alyssa grinned, "Yes! And I am bringing him food. To eat." She widened her eyes and stared hopefully at the ceiling.

"Only if there are no detours this time."

"Detour?" She tilted her head.

"A diversion from the given path."

Alyssa laughed, "Promise."

The elevator door opened, she hopped in.

-----------------------

The music went down suddenly, Tony looked up from the program he was working. He made a face at the ceiling, JARVIS knew not to cut off the music unless someone was visiting. Maybe it was Pepper? The elevator opened,

"Hello Mista'." And in walked little Matilda.

Tony stared at the door for a second. He squinted his eyes before blinking a few times. Still there. It wasn't a hallucination after all, huh.

"Kid, What on earth are you doing here? It's like what..1 in the morning. No, wait-erase that how are you in here?" He put down the tablet.

"Because I wanted to," she skipped towards Tony and threw an apple towards him which he caught easily. She put the bag of blueberries on the desktop.

"Because you wanted to." He repeated slowly, " What do you mean because you wanted to? That's not how this works, JARVIS why is she down here." His voice showed his skepticism.

"Exactly what she said 'Mista Tony', because she wanted to."

Alyssa burst into peals of laughter and Tony couldn't help his own lips tilting up into a smirk.

"This is a conspiracy against me! I'm telling you. My own AI." He mock glared at the kid, though he knew his tilted lips probably gave away his amusement. He wasn't really angry he knew JARVIS wouldn't have let her in if he was doing something dangerous, "Why would you do that?"

Alyssa giggled, "W-Why not"

He squinted his eyes staring at her. Tony then fake gasped, putting a hand on his chest. "Are you sassing me kid?

"I'd never sass you Mista robot!" Alyssa looked mischevious.

"Yesh right," he rolled his eyes letting his hand fall down from his chest, "All you do is sass, not that I hate it. It pretty good, for a kid" He clarified throwing the apple from one hand to the other.

Alyssa pouted not liking the critic of her 'sassiness'. Tony sighed, Alyssa was looking at him expectantly. He stared around to find a place for her to sit since she had apparently decided to stay, who knows why. There was the couch at the end of the workshop. he stared at it for a while then decided it would take too much effort to pull it closer.

He cleared the desktop he was working on throwing some of the things on the ground, just some tools nothing important then signed her to jump on. Alyssa bit her lip looking at the desk that didn't have any ridges to help her climb.

Tony rolled his eyes, "Kids" he muttered before picking her up and plopping her on the table.

Alyssa wiggled a little, settling in.

Tony picked his tablet again putting the apple on the table, " So, what do you do with kids anyway? Do you  need a bottle or something?" He looked at her beneath his lashes and had to hold back a laugh at the offended look on her face. "I'm four, not one!" She huffed.

"And I am an inventor, not a babysitter."

"I am not a baby!" She crossed her arms over her chest looking away.  

Tony wondered for a second whether he should say something but it wasn't like he said something wrong.  He wasn't good with kids (Unlike Thor, the stupidly friendly alien)  and maybe it was better if she didn't stay. He looked at the apple for a second his stomach rumbled a little but he decided not to eat it in the end.

The last thing he needed was the kid to come down here every day with food, even if it did make him feel all happy. Ugh, mushy stuff! Bad Tony! He shook his head to chase away the thoughts.

"Is that your mommy?" Came a soft question.

Tony's head snapped towards her, she had a frame in her hands and Tony knew if she turned it he'd see him sitting next to his mother as she played the piano. He curbed the first instinct to wave away-deflect-ignore the question. He chose to hmm instead.

"She's really pretty,"

Tony could hear the smile in her voice, "Was." He hated to correct, he didn't look at her while saying it. He didn't need to see her face fall. "She was very pretty."

"Oh."

There was a moment of silence.  Tony finally looked up, she was staring intently at the picture.

"My mom was very pretty too, " she finally muttered, ''What-What happened to your mom?"

"Car accident."

Alyssa looked up at him with sad eyes, Tony suddenly felt the need to say something funny. Anything but-but he didn't. But this felt too important, too important to mess up.

"A-are you sure?"

Tony stared at her for a while, "Yes. I'm sure. Hundred percent sure."

She caressed the frame, " I thought my mommy and dad died in a car crash too."  She put down the frame back on the desktop near the picture of him and his father. She rubbed a hand over her eyes.

"But they didn't?" He asked in a soft manner not wanting the kid to be any more upset.

"No," She whispered, " A man killed them, with a spell. A green spell."

A man with a green spell? Loki?

Tony saw red.

He tried to control his voice, "Loki killed your parents?"

Alyssa's head snapped up, she looked shocked. "No! Not Loki. Voldemort. Voldemort attacked us."

"Voldemort?" Tony tested the name on his lips. Wasn't that french for the flight from death or something?

"A bad wizard, I don't like him."

"Another mutant then? Is he gone?"

"Yeah. He's gone."  

Tony felt a wave of relief, at least the man was gone now. Alyssa was staring down at her shoes.

She was upset, that was clear to see.

"Oh, I have no idea how to handle emotional situations. This is so not something I do." Tony finally blurted out.

Alyssa sniffed, smiling slightly. "Usually, Mel just gives me a hug."

"A hug, " Tony's face twisted.

"Yes," Alyssa replied, her eyes getting back some of their usual happiness after the morse topic.

"I don't do 'hugs', short stack" Tony took a step back raising his hands in the universal sign of peace.

Alyssa jumped down from the desk. She walked a bit closer staring at him and- oh no the puppy eyes. It wasn't fair!

Tony rolled his eyes for show, "Agh fine."

He finally mumbled stepping forwards and bending down a little bit to encircle his arms around the kid barely touching her. He wasn't going to be all mushy like Thor. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Not like that silly!" She pulled his shirt to make him crouch down properly. She then hugged him properly, putting her head on his chest and letting out a sigh of content.

Tony stiffened a little before slowly relaxing and hugging her back, resting his hand on her back.

"It's not that bad, " He grudgingly agreed after a while. It did make him feel better as well. "But if you tell anyone I'll deny everything." He pulled back and playfully scowled at her.

"Yes, Mister Robot!"  Alyssa declared with a huge grin.

"For the last time, I-Am-not-a -robot" He emphasized each word. Alyssa shrugged.

"You know what, you wanna see an actual robot?", He leaned against the desk, he could hear the sound of a blender in the background.

Alyssa frowned," Actual robot?"

"Dum-E front an center!" The sound of the blender died out and Dum-E wheeled in beeping in a curious manner.

"W-What-Who's this?" Alyssa looked at him with wide eyes and stepped a little closer.

"This little lilo is Dum-E. Say Hi Dum-E"

Dum-E beeped a little them raised his arm and clenched and unclenched his claw. Alyssa squeal a little, "He's so cute!" She went a little closer, Tony could almost see the hearts in her eyes but it didn't bother him that much this time (Not that it did before).

"I don't see it." He shrugged pulling up a projection for the clean-up project Stark industry had started. He absently grabbed the apple and bit into it.

Dum-E and the kid were both busy staring at each other. Then Dum-e turned around and wheeled away. He came back after a minute with a rubber ball clutched in his claw. He dropped it in front of Alyssa.

Alyssa stared at the ball as if she had no idea what to do with it. What a weird kid.

"He wants to play catch, " Tony helpfully supplied, see he could be nice. Suck on that Thor. "You don't have to though, its one of his quirks."

"I wanna, can I please?" Alyssa pleaded.

"You wanna play with him?" Tony asked to confirm.

"Yep,"

"Only if you call me Tony instead now that you know what a real robot looks like."

Alyssa gasped, "I can't do that! " She then thought for a while, "But I can call you Mista Tony?"

Tony thought to mention how she didn't mind calling Thor by his name but ultimately just nodded.

Tony pointed a finger at Dum-E, "Dum-e Behave yourself or I'll send you down to R&D. " He then made a 'go' motion at Alyssa, "Go ahead, I'm just gonna-yeah." And he finally went back to work though he could hear the two mischief makers in the background. He just hoped Dum- didn't take out the fire extinguisher, it would be kinda funny though.

He looked up half an hour later when Dum-e insistently waved a blanket in front of his face. He was about to roll his eyes and put it off as one of his antics when Dum-e threw it in front of him and wheeled toward the other side of the lab.

The other side where on a very batty couch the kid was fast asleep,  cuddling the ball to her chest. Dum-e beeped at him.

"Fine. Just this one, the next time we're waking her up" he told Dum-e strictly and picked up the blanket. He made his way to the couch and promptly got back to his workspace. A few seconds later he glanced at the kid again sleeping on his couch like it was the most comfortable place in the world.

His face softened a little, "Silly kid." He chuckled quietly, grabbed the pack of blueberries before throwing a last look at the sofa and getting back to work.

#marvel #Harry Potter #female!harrypotter #irondad #tonystark #tony stark has a heart #Fanfiction #Beyond the blaze

[mmmatchasay]

Mama knows best

this one only had like very little Spencer and he only appeared towards the end but I kinda liked this so here it is! I probably got a little carried away but I do hope you will still enjoy this regardless.

word count: 1614 words

pairing: established! spencer reid x reader

summary: word of advice: mother always knows what’s best.

You place the plate of pancakes on the table and set aside a plate for your daughter, Matilda. Just as you are about to pour some coffee for yourself, Matilda walks in the room and you raise an eyebrow at her – being the wife of a profiler, you are bound to pick up a skill or two. “Good morning, dear.” You bring your cup of coffee over to the table and sit across of Matilda.

She glances at you and gives you a strained smile. “Sorry, Mum. Good morning.” Matilda runs her hand through her hair and sighs, pulling her plate closer to her.

Your eyes narrow at her. “Matilda, what happened to your ring?” There is this nagging feeling at the back of your mind and you have lived long enough to know that if your gut feeling tells you something is wrong, then something is most definitely wrong. As a matter of fact, Matilda had been happy to show off her ring to you yesterday.

Matilda shakes her head, her expression changing drastically. “It’s nothing, Mum.” She tries to shake you off, but you place your hand on your daughter’s arm. Matilda glances at you with the saddest expression you have ever seen on her and it almost breaks your heart to see your daughter like this. “It’s just that… none of this is real – Jeffrey and I were only pretending to date to take the heat off of his secret relationship. He’s currently dating his make-up artist and I’m just the dumb girl who is too nice to say no.” She confesses, furrowing her eyebrows.

You blanch slightly upon hearing your daughter’s words. “But honey, you lied to your dad and I?” You held back the sigh that threatened to leave your mouth. “You obviously adore Jeffrey, Matilda and he seemed like he adored you too. Are you sure?”

Matilda grunts in response. “Mum, I just want to sit here, eat my pancakes and die and not necessarily in that order!” She huffs in annoyance. As much as she hated hearing those words from you, deep down inside, Matilda actually thought the same thing too: Jeffrey had seemed genuinely interested in her and honestly, it hurt her deeply when Jeffrey called off their deal last night, without even giving her the chance to confess. “It just sucks, Ma. I can’t believe I actually thought I’d have something like Dad and you.”

You chuckle quietly, and Matilda narrows her eyes at you. “Did I ever tell you about how I met your dad?”

Matilda relaxes slightly but then shakes her head. She actually never bothered thinking about how her parents had gotten together – all she knows is that the two of them are still hopelessly in love with each other and that’s what she is craving for in a relationship. “No but let me guess? You met at a Halloween party because Dad doesn’t seem like the type to go to the bar a lot?” She tries to take a stab and you had to smile at her answer.

“Actually, yes, you are correct: I met your Dad at a Halloween party, specifically your Aunt Penny’s Halloween party but,” You raise your hand to stop your daughter from cutting you off and continue, “At that time, I actually had a boyfriend already – one that I had been with for almost a year.”

Matilda’s jaw drops. “Ugh, no? Really, mum?” She is flabbergasted and suddenly, her brain just feels like it had stopped working. You nod your head. “Then, how did you end up with Dad? Was it like love at first sight or something? I mean I have seen Dad’s photos before when the two of you were younger and even my friends agree that Dad aged like fine wine which is slightly gross because I think Dad’s just dad.” She shudders, remembering her friends fawning over her Dad and Matilda rolls her eyes.

You had to laugh at that and shake your head. Spencer always had that effect on people and even up until now, he always catches people’s attention no matter where he goes and whatever he does. It used to make you feel insecure and jealous but now, after so many years of being together, it just becomes funny to you. “My ex worked as a doctor – if I’m not mistaken, he was a trauma surgeon – so he was busy quite a lot of times and he couldn’t make it for Penny’s Halloween party, so I just turned up, thinking I was going to be spending my night, getting plastered only to be introduced to your Dad.”

Matilda turns to face you. “So, if it wasn’t love at first sight, what was it then? What did Dad have that your ex didn’t?”

“We actually stayed friends for a hundred and fifty-five days, seventeen hours and thirty minutes.” Spencer’s voice catches the both of you by surprise and he walks in, carrying a brief case that he leaves by the counter. Walking towards the two of you, he gives Matilda a smile before pressing his lips on your temple. “Morning, wife of mine.”

Matilda can’t help but smile, seeing the two of you together. Even after twenty-seven years of marriage, the two of you still act as if you had only just gotten married. “You guys are too sweet.”

Spencer chuckles and makes a move to sit beside you. “I actually didn’t have anything to me at all other than my name but somehow, your mum,” Spencer grabs your hand and you intertwine your fingers with his, “managed to look past all of that and she accepted me for who I had been at that particular time.”

“On his own, Spencer really only had his name to himself but when the two of us were together, we had something; something special, magical even and honey, that’s what I see when I saw you with Jeffrey last night.”

Spencer leans over to whisper in your ear. “What happened with Jeffrey?” His warm breath fans your ear causing you to shiver and you turn to look at Spencer. His eyebrows are furrowed, and you can see the concern starting to boil in him, so you place a hand to his cheek, caressing it softly.

“Nothing that Matilda won’t be fixing, am I right?” You turn to look at Matilda who is now contemplating your words seriously. Spencer takes that chance to press a kiss to your palm and you smile warmly at your husband. He pulls your hand away from his face and simply holds it.

“But… how do you work it out? The two of you have been together for a while now and I rarely ever you fight and I just – I want what you and Dad have.” Matilda murmurs, almost sulkily because deep down inside, she knows she is just being absolutely stubborn but at the same time, ever since she was young, all she could think was finding someone who loved her as much as her dad loves her mum and vice versa.

“Statistically speaking, the chances of finding something that is very similar to what your mum and I have would be very slim, but I am not saying that it’s not possible. About 45% of the human population found someone who, I suppose for the lack of a better word, are their true soulmates. Your mum and I, we definitely went through a lot but the key to having something like we have is understanding. Patience and compassion come in handy too.” Spencer explains, and you nod your head in agreement. “We have fought many a times too but like I mentioned previously, we understood each other quite a lot because we communicate.”

Matilda suddenly stands up, causing the two of you to startle slightly. She turns to hug the both of you, pressing a very wet kiss on your cheek as well as Spencer’s – leaving a faint lipstick mark on his cheek! – and she pulls back to look at you. “Thank you, mum and dad but I think I might have to take a raincheck on the pancakes! I need to go talk to Jeffrey.” She excuses herself without waiting for any of your replies.

“So, is there any reason why she just left without finishing breakfast?” Spencer asks as he drops your hand to pull Matilda’s plate towards him. “Does this have anything to do with Jeffrey because if Jeffrey did anything to hurt Matilda, Penelope is a speed dial away.” He furrows his eyebrows and looks at you.

You bring your hand to smooth his forehead and shake your head. “Still as protective as ever, Dr. Reid.” You curl his hair behind his ear and Spencer chuckles, staring at you with so much love.

“That’s because she’s our only daughter, Dr. Reid.” Spencer shoots back and you nod your head, giggling at his answer. “But tell me this, do I need to inform Penelope?” He raises one of his eyebrows and you chuckle, shaking your head.

“No need for that, husband of mine.” You nuzzle your nose against his. “Hurry up and eat the pancake. You have the Dean’s meeting to attend and we have lunch with Henry later.” You whisper at his lips and Spencer kisses you softly on the cheek.

“You should eat too, wife of mine and thank you for the reminder.” Spencer’s eyes are faintly amused and when you smile at him, he can feel the love he has for you growing even more. Thinking back about what you had said earlier with Matilda, Spencer whole-heartedly agrees that together, the two of you definitely have something special and magical.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #dr. spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #reader insert #criminal minds fanfiction #reid #reid x reader #reid imagines #spencer reid x you #mmmatchasay #spencer reid fluff #matilda reid

[allykat4416]

Meme Trip 2k19, Pt. 5

Date: May 23

Park: Cedar Point in Sandusky, Ohio

Oh boy, this is a park I’ve been looking forward to talking about. By which I mean, Jesus Christ, I really don’t want to talk about this park, but here we are. If you want to see me go from bordering on weepy to ready to rip a man’ s jugular out with my teeth in 0.06 seconds, hit that jump!

Once upon a time, back when undergrad made me want to chug bleach and I had heavy rose-tinted goggles on, there was no park in the world I loved more than Cedar Point. Every summer, I would gripe and complain that I didn’t get to go. And now, I’m at the point (hah, get it?) that this park makes me wanna go full White Boy and punch holes in the drywall. 

I have never felt more conflicted over a place in my life. Cedar Point meant a lot to me for a really long time, and that soft spot can’t go entirely away overnight. I hate what Cedar Point represents in the community, and I hate the attitude that a solid 95% of Cedar Point Fanboys hold (and there’s a difference between them and regular people who like Cedar Point, and my heart bleeds for you if you too know that distinction.) I love Dragster, when it’s open. I still really like Raptor, and I have a newfound appreciation for Gatekeeper after the atrocity that was X-Flight. Magnum is amazing, Maverick is amazing, and I’ll even go to bat for Wicked Twister. Millennium Force is still my favorite fucking roller coaster of all time, because it’s 2003 and I am really REALLY cool. Steel Vengeance is my absolute least favorite coaster of all fucking time, and there’s not a day that passes that I don’t wish they’d just kept Mean Streak and ya’ll died mad over it.

Cedar Point made me want to become an enthusiast. Cedar Point makes me want to stop being an enthusiast. Millennium sparked a love in me that sent me to so many amazing places, namely to Agawam. Steel Vengeance sparked a hatred in me that’s made me seriously consider never touching another amusement park again. My most loved and my most hated rides of all time are in this park, no more than half a mile from each other.

But I’ll get to that later. Onto the rides.

I feel like I talked about Cedar Creek Mine Ride last year, and it’s not a ride I care enough about to go make sure if I did or not. I rode with Casie and Jenn because the only way to have fun on a mine train is to go with your friends and act like an idiot the entire ride. I think the Matilda Watkins tombstone out front is interesting, and I wonder if they’re going to do anything more to this ride since they’re trying to make Frontiertown have a story (which, though I detest the centerpiece ride, I still applaud a good tale.) The sign with the other mine trains and how far away they were was a cute touch too.

Thanks to my foot deciding to be a real jerk, we actually had a chance to go look in the museum. I’m kind of glad we did, and not just because the air conditioning was a treat. Sometimes when you have an injury like this, it forces you to slow down and look at stuff you may have missed otherwise in a mad dash to riderideriderideride. We should have done the Gemini photo op, looking back on it now. 

Speaking of, Gemini is a fun and inoffensive ride. I’d probably be a little sad if they got rid of it, but I don’t think Gemini will be around much longer. I do think we’ll lose the other mine train and probably Wicked Twister before it, but I don’t see them being here in 20 years. But until then, I’m going to appreciate Gemini while we’ve still got it and the queue isn’t over a 15 minute wait. I do think I would probably like it more if it would actually duel, but alas, such is life.

A lot of stuff we usually like to ride was down. I didn’t get to see Wicked or my Beemer girls. I can live without Valravn and Rougarou, even if Furry Macklemore was running. TTD was eating Takis and laughing at us, I’m sure.

We got two rounds on Magnum, and I’m happy to say the tunnel effects are back! I’d never experienced those, but I’m happy I had the chance to this time. It’s really nice to get some actual ejector, and the last half of Magnum delivers in spades. I was missing that since Kentucky Kingdom. This ride doesn’t deserve the hate it gets, and I can’t speak for everyone, but I have nothing but respect for our OG Queen of Coasters. You’re always going to be the better hyper in this park. 

I did 15 rounds on Millennium because of course I did. I’m up to 84 rides now. I could come to this park, ride only this, and be perfectly happy. I saw Spencer, the huge fanboy from last year, again. I don’t want to say it was fate that I met back up with him, but I’m really glad I did. We’ve got that “Force is the best damn thing in this place” solidarity, and that’s so rare to have. My foot was in excruciating pain and the ride operators asked me if I was alright, but I told them there was no way I was going to miss this. So I hobbled back through the queue as many times as I could.

I know logically, my foot felt better on the ride because I was sitting down. The bottom of the train may have had something to do with it too because of foot positioning. But the very childish part of me who still wants to believe there’s magic in the world thinks that maybe that was the ride’s way of saying thanks. For sticking by her through Fury (even though I do have mad love for my bee.) For sticking by her through Steve. And for sticking by her through whatever monstrosities are coming down the pipeline.

I rode once with my eyes closed, and I knew that no matter what happens, this is something I can’t give up. It was like Shivering Timbers again. I promise I’m not nutso. But there was just that small, still voice that said you cannot walk away from this. Not after everything.

He cannot fucking have this. Neither can she. But especially not him.

I’m pretty sure one of my multiple tags for this ride have said I would throw hands for Millennium. I would. Like I say on here, she’s my sun and my stars. And the sky seems awfully dark and lonely without that, don’t you think? I know there are people out there with deeper connections to rides, connections that mean so much more than this little tiny baby one I have ever could. Millennium Force isn’t the reason I didn’t fling myself off a bridge like I’d planned to on August 20, 2017. I was ready to go (TTD pun unintended), and Millennium didn’t stop me, but it was a damn nice consolation prize for staying alive.

I always try to make my final ride on yellow train, so I lost the official last ride of the night because of that. Still worth it, though. I always have to ride that one last, so goodbye doesn’t feel so permanent. If I can wait 5 years, I can wait however long I need. Yellow train was my first train I ever rode Force in back in 2013. I remember because I was so happy, that was always the train in the photos. That’s why I made Milan’s eyes that really weird color, because of the yellow train. I know I probably sound nutso. I really, really promise I’m not.

I’m probably going to leave Instagram--- I like, like, maybe 10 people on there anyway, and it’s clearly making this overall hobby very un-fun for me. I don’t know where I’ll go. I don’t know if going anywhere is the right move. I had a good thing going when I was just shouting into the void about coasters here; that was fun and there were negative levels of pressure. I’ll take having no one to talk to over having to be around…Those People. But god damn it, I cannot cannot cannot lose this ride.

This park is always going to have a negative association to me now to some degree because of Steel Vengeance. But I’ll be damned if I let that pathetic excuse of a coaster diminish the love I feel for Millennium Force for a fucking second.

We only got one ride on Maverick because the lines for that always suck, and I was elsewhere for most of the day and in no shape to hobble back to my favorite filly. I’m not even certain which train we got on since we were sent to the back. You can make the “horses in the back” joke at any time, really. As always, Maverick kicks all sorts of ass. Bow down to the true queen of Frontiertown, you cowards. I do prefer Maverick in the front, but there was no way they’d honor our request. Oh well. This ride doesn’t deserve an ounce of the hate it gets. You guys suck.

And now that we’re talking about Frontiertown, I don’t have to hold back on how much I despise Steve! So let me nail my grievances to Tony Clark’s door.

First of all, I’ll blame myself for setting my expectations too high. That’s on me. I didn’t know that literally nothing could ever compare to Lightning Rod, but I still shouldn’t have expected it to be LRod. Any park is going to market a coaster to be the best of its class, regardless of if that’s true. See: Yukon Striker. Yawn. Canada’s Wonderland wants you to be excited, but it’s really hard to. The point is they’re trying to hype it up. I don’t fault CePo’s marketing for the hype before it opened because that’s just their job. My expectations being high was on me and me alone. I take responsibility for that. And I don’t doubt that if my first RMC had been, say, Wicked Cyclone or Twisted Timbers, I’d still dislike Steve. But I don’t think it would be as strong of a disappointment. The ride is average at best. Steel Vengeance, as a RIDE EXPERIENCE, is so inoffensively boring that it’s offensive. I blame the MCBR.  

No, no, my real beef with Steve is the way everyone treats it. It’s like a Children’s Crusade against anyone who dares to speak ill of this ride, and I absolutely do not like that. It’s not like any other coaster’s bootlickers, because 9 times out of 10, they’re still civil. I have met exactly 3 people who love Steve that are decent fucking humans. Three. Let that sink in.

Otherwise, you’re dogpiled for “daring” to like another RMC more. People WILL fight you in the name of SV. Any ride you say something nice about, you’ll have people crowing that “Vengie better!” in the comments. People have lost friends because of their opinions on this ride. Because did you know if it isn’t your #1, you’re lying to yourself? Did you know that opinions were allowed before Stevie?

This is what you’re missing if you’re not in the coaster community. This is why I want out. You can’t think anything is better than Steve now. That’s a thought crime, and you’ll be properly ostracized in this fandom because you’re not being a good enthusiast. These people have turned a fun community into a dystopian police state. And that’s fucked up. Big Brother Blackjack is watching you.

Because it’s RMC, and they do no wrong. [except everything that isn’t Stevie now, that’s “on a whole different level and it’s disrespectful to our father to say them in the same breath”] Because it’s Cedar Point, they definitely do no wrong. [except everything there that isn’t Steve uwu maverick bad millennium bad steve bestest evar] There’s objectively nothing wrong with this ride, flawless and perfect and immaculate in design, we are not worthy.

Except if you rode another RMC, you would realize it kind of sucks. You want so badly to crusade for it because it’s an RMC at Cedar Point, a cocktail of toxicity. I don’t know when the next thing to finally kill Steve will be, but I will take immense pleasure in watching every single one of them squirm and try to find a reason why RMC’s i232 is “better” that isn’t because “it’s an RMC at Cedar Point.”

And that’s why I hate Steel Vengeance. It’s taken so much fun out of something that used to be a pleasure for me and turned it into Cowboy Panem. Call me Katniss. 

{Edited because I had this typed up Friday and didn’t bother to post Saturday since I was wallowing in my sadness, but I just deleted Instagram largely because of this ride around 5 hours ago. Whoo!}

But now that that’s out of my system, I guess we should also take this fun tidbit into consideration: The Bane of My Existence was down for most of the day. Not like I ever wanted to waste my time with that snoozer of a ride again anyway, but even having SV not be operational changes the atmosphere of the park.

It almost, for a brief moment, felt like the Cedar Point I remembered from 2013.

I’m not going to say it reduced me to tears because I’m only allowed to cry once a year and I had already used up my annual quota during finals week. But for these small flashes, it’s like Mean Streak was there. Like Phil never left. And everything felt so, so much better. I’d told Casie that the park was like a big blend of pretty pastels, all these gorgeous colors together: sugar pink, baby blue, lavender, soft orange, sea-foam green. And those were the rides there like Maggie and the Intamins and the Beemers. Steve is the big, ugly brown smudge from having mud on your shoe. It throws the whole painting off, but if you cover it up… it’s kind of beautiful.

If MIA makes me miss what I never had, CePo with downtime Steve makes me miss what I know I had and can’t ever get back.

There’s no malice to these rides. They’re just kind of goofy and definitely sleepy. They’ve been through a lot, but they’re friendly. They get it. They know my problem isn’t with them at all.

Someone I dislike told Casie regarding Steve that, “that ride must hate you two.” I don’t think rides actually have souls, despite how I’ve talked through these reports. (Personification is just a fun pastime.) Even if they did, Steve certainly wouldn’t have one. It would explain why the park personified it from the get-go. But it’s good to know the feeling is mutual! Hey Steve, hate ya more! :D Just know someday fire will catch, and just like President Snow, Vengie and his little empire will burn.  

#trip reports #i'm in JUST enough of a shitty mood to let it all hang out so here we mcfuckin go

[cover2covermom]

Hello bookworms!

Today I thought I would share a batch of mini book reviews of the audiobooks I’ve been reading with my children over the past few months.  Listening to audiobooks together with my children has been a delight!  BUT more on that in a later post 🙂

*Books included in this batch of mini book reviews: Frog and Toad (Frog and Toad #1 – 4) by Arnold Lobel, Winnie-the-Pooh (Winnie-the-Pooh #1) by A.A. Milne, Matilda by Roald Dahl, My Father’s Dragon by Ruth Stiles Gannett, and Amelia Bedelia (Audio Collection) by Peggy Parish

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» Frog and Toad (Frog and Toad #1 – 4) by Arnold Lobel

Recommend to: younger children aged 4-7 years old; fans of animal stories

Themes: friendship

This collection of Frog and Toad stories was the perfect little book to dip our toes into listening to audiobooks together as a family.  Since my youngest is 5, I wanted to start with an audiobook that was short & very easy to follow.   I wanted to gauge how well she was able to listen to an audiobook & follow along with the story.

This book is the perfect audiobook to listen to with younger children!  If you are thinking about crossing the bridge from picture books to short chapter books with your child, this is a great place to start.  I had my doubts about my 5 year-old’s ability to listen to an audiobook, but she kept up just fine.  I made sure to stop frequently to check her comprehension.

Frog and Toad is a feel-good book that the whole family can enjoy.  The stories are simple enough for younger children to understand, but still entertaining for every age.  We really enjoyed the dry humor of Frog and Toad, and found ourselves laughing at Frog & Toads antics.  It was a delight to read and amused us all, even the 12-year-old.

» Winnie-the-Pooh (Winnie-the-Pooh #1) by A.A. Milne

Recommended to: children aged 7-9 years old; fans of classic children stories

Themes: friendship & silliness

This one was not as big of a hit as our first read together book.   I think this has to do with it being published in the 1920s & the writing style.  The dialogue could be very long-winded at times, which caused both my kids to lose interest.

This book was a bit more challenging for my 5-year-old to follow because of the narrative structure.   The portions with Pooh & friends in the Hundred Acre Wood that are of told in 3rd person were easier for her to understand, but the portions where the narrator is telling the story to Christopher Robin were confusing for her.

Let’s talk about the audiobook format.  I really think audiobook, or at least the version we listened to narrated by Peter Dennis, is NOT the way to go with this book.  For one, the music in between chapters was WAY too long.  I’m all for a little music to break up chapters & enhance the story, but it did not work here.   I also found Dennis’ narration a a bit overdone at times.  The way Dennis snorts after every word Piglet says was WAY too much.  We found it very disruptive to the story, and frankly it was annoying.  I’m wondering if I would have acquired the physical copy with illustrations and read the book aloud myself if we would have enjoyed this book more.

Since I fondly remember watching the Disney adaptation as a kid, I can say that it was very true to the story.  Aside from the story where Rabbit comes up with the idea to kidnap Rue (I can see why that one didn’t make the adaptation lol) I recognized most of the stories.

Overall, this was a nostalgic read for me, but not a big hit with my kids.

» Matilda by Roald Dahl

Recommended to: children aged 7 – 11 years old; book lovers; underdog story lovers

Themes: justice, importance of education, loyalty, cleverness, and unconventional family

This was my first time reading Matilda, and I was so glad I got to experience it with my kids.  I was familiar with the story since I’ve seen the wonderful film adaptation that came out in the 90s, so there was definitely some nostalgia feels.  We listened to the audiobook, which is narrated by Kate Winslet, and we highly recommend it!  Kate does a wonderful narration, which wasn’t surprising at all.

I feel like one of the best parts about Matilda, is that at its core it is an “underdog story.”   From the very beginning, Matilda is basically on her own since her parents are not interested in caring for her.  Matilda learns to care for herself and even teaches herself to read.  Once she starts school, she must go up against her principal, the formidable Ms. Trunchbull.  Since Matilda is just a small child, she must use her intelligence to out-wit Ms. Trunchbull.

How could I write a review for Matilda and not mention Miss Honey?  Miss Honey is such a lovely character.  She is basically the perfect elementary school teacher:  she’s kindhearted, warm, and cares deeply about her students.  Miss Honey is the first adult that takes notice of Matilda and her special abilities.  The friendship that develops between Matilda and Miss Honey is charming.

Matilda is what I like to call a “bookworm’s delight.”  Matilda discovers a magical place: the library.  She sets off devouring one book after another until she’s made her way through all the children’s book and moves on to adult books.  I adored Matilda’s thirst for books & knowledge.   Books become Matilda’s escape from her dreadful family life.  Dahl perfectly captures the essence of what it means to love books.

The books transported her into new worlds and introduced her to amazing people who lived exciting lives. She went on olden-day sailing ships with Joseph Conrad. She went to Africa with Ernest Hemingway and to India with Rudyard Kipling. She traveled all over the world while sitting in her little room in an English village.

Matilda is one of those books where child and adult readers of this book will have very different take-aways.  My kids thought it was awesome that Matilda was so independent & even able to walk to the library alone as a 5-year-old child.  They also liked the idea of Matilda getting even with the adults in her life that had done her wrong – her father & Ms. Trunchbull.  As an adult, my heart broke for Matilda and the neglect she suffers from her parents and principal.

The ending to this book is heartwarming and will give you all the feels.

Matlida was a bit over my 5-year-old’s listening level.  I think one thing that hindered her in particular was the fact that Roald Dahl was a British author, thus she was unfamiliar with the slang.  To offset this, I paused the audiobook often to help go over what was happening in the story.  After we finished listening to the book, I rented the film adaptation from the library and we enjoyed watching the movie together as well 🙂

» My Father’s Dragon by Ruth Stiles Gannett

Recommended to: younger children aged 4-7 years old; fans of animal stories; fans of the picture book The Gruffalo

Themes: courage, cleverness, and adventure

This book was listed in The Read-Aloud Handbook as a good book to read-aloud with younger children, so I gave it a go via audiobook with my 5-year-old.

If you have a 5 or 6-year-old that is ready to cross over from picture books to short/simple chapter books, this is an excellent book to start with.  Like I mentioned, we read this via audiobook, however after reading some of the reviews, print form may be the way to go with this one as many of the reviews mentioned the lovely illustrations.

My Father’s Dragon is the story of a boy named Elmer who travels to Wild Island to save a baby dragon that has been enslaved by the animals that inhibit the island.  In order to save the baby dragon, Elmer must go up against the animals that are keeping the dragon captive.  With each animal that Elmer encounters, he must use his quick wit, and a little ingenuity, to distract the animals in order to continue on with his quest.

If your children enjoy picture books like The Gruffalo, where the main character gets themselves out of trouble by using their cleverness to trick others, then they will really enjoy this book.  My daughter highly enjoyed this one, even without the illustrations, and asked to read the other books in the series.

» Amelia Bedelia (Audio Collection) by Peggy Parish

Recommended to: children aged 6 – 9 years old; fans of off-the-wall characters like Anne from Anne of Green Gables or Pippi from Pippi Longstocking

Themes:  language/communication, forgiveness, and humor

I listened to this audiobook collection with my 5-year-old daughter.  We really enjoyed listening to this collection of stories about Amelia Bedelia.

Amelia Bedelia is the story of a young girl that starts working as a maid for Mr. & Mrs. Rogers.  Amelia takes speech very literally, which causes all kinds of problems for the Rogers, for example when Mrs. Rogers asks Amelia to “run an iron over the tablecloth” Amelia takes the iron and walks all over the tablecloth.  They quickly get over any of Amelia’s blunders however because as it turns out, she is an excellent baker.

Amelia is such an endearing character that you can’t help but love.  Actually, Amelia reminded me a bit of Anne from Anne of Green Gables. mashed up with Pippi from Pippi Longstocking.

Since these stories were first published in the 60’s and 70’s, the language was a bit dated, which made it a bit more challenging for my daughter to totally understand all of Amelia’s misunderstandings, but it was a great opportunity to talk to her about words & phrases with multiple meanings.

  Have you read any of these books?  If so, what did you think?

Comment below & let me know 🙂

      Mini Book Reviews: Audiobooks I Read With My Kids (April - June 2019) #BookReview #ChildrensBooks #Reading #Books #BookBlog #BookBlogger Hello bookworms! Today I thought I would share a batch of mini book reviews of the audiobooks I've been reading with my children over the past few months. 

#Am Reading #Bibliophile #book blog #book blogger #Book Review #Book Talk #Book Worm #Bookish #Books #Bookworm #Children&039;s Books #Middle Grade #Reading #Review

[ecotone99]

[SF] Matilda and the Augean Stables

[ XVIII ]

Matilda had wore herself out on the process of capturing and hanging up the Siren to a bridge. She now sat at home ruffled and fuzzy hair unbrushed and out of sorts. She walked home and handed her weapons to her oldest sister Desmona, who was crippled by violence: opposite to the fighting ethos of Matilda. This issue had been a long-standing problem, as Desmona was often left committing sins with her apathy and inability to concern herself with orders outside of her own at the expense of others. This fault had lead Matilda to sharpen her weapons twice over, as she was expected to fight Desmona’s battle whenever she needed assistance. As Matilda entered her home she was informed that by Desmona that her magic pet named as chandler had wandered off and had yet to return before Matilda had returned from battle. When Matilda asked where the swift beast had ran: she was informed that the animal had ran in the direction of where Matilda worked: cleaning the stables of the Augean horses. Desmona had said that she were able to escape after Matilda had left for the battle, and that she were worried the cat had gotten lost, and too cast to capture once more. They joked about how the fluffy animal were as large as a hind, and that it was best to go search and retrieve the sassy animal before another night fell. Matilda left home once more, as she knew Desmona would be distraught had she lost the fluffy beast forever, and so they formed a party in which to search for the beast.

As Matilda walked, she noted how much she hated working at the stables, and wondered why the fluffy beast had followed her in the first place. She reflected on her awful occupation: smiling at dead-eyed savages as they demanded corn, wine, and sweets all day long. Matilda was in charge of cleaning the stalls of the now de-crowned King Augeas: an awful boar who treated women like the shit Matilda was contractually obligated to shovel each day. Matilda smiled as she watched the dead-eyed savages fill their oversized cups with sugar and find any reasons to complain aboot their mini-vacation at the stables. Matilda swept corn from off the floor, and forced herself to make light of the situation, as she declared herself the “Queen of the Corn” and admired her own ability to haul waste and make stairs her bitch. She didn’t mind all her guests at her work, but it were definitely an unwelcoming position to be in: since Matilda was not allowed to be herself by the orders of the managers who ran the stables. The managers made fun of Matilda and her limp and crooked spine, as they were unaware she were Indigenous Warrior royalty, as they never cared enough to learn learn the names of their employees. To this discrimination she had been forced to call for aid by those who actually owned and ran the Augean Stables over the Centuries, as she finally realized they had actually been breaking the law with their discrimination: hiding their true selves behind smiles, proudly boasting to of their own abilities to dehumanize their workers to one another. Matilda waited for her aid by the owners of the stables: sad as she walked back to the stables hoping to find the quick beast before she arrived at the Augean stables.

Matilda had started working at the stables as she had spent her youth attending the shows of mustangs and show-horses with her papa as a youth. She had no complaints of the lack of payment, or the guest who demanded to know “what are you?”: whenever Matilda and her ambiguous looks offended a guests on the patterned occasion. These dead-eyed savages often looked for reason to try and displace Matilda upon seeing her, asking of her to speak in Spanish, or her own language as though she were a monkey in a zoo. The dead-eyed savages and managers didn’t find it funny whenever she pointed out to them that she were a Homo Sapiens. Annoyed by their own privileged need to know her ethnicity, and amused as she informed them she were an Indigenous American Warrior: as their eyes grew huge in their own cultural shame. Matilda knew that the guest only came to watch pony shows of men riding around dressed at bats, and spiders: constantly spilling butter down their obese consumer faces. Matilda had never met the man known as King Augeas, besides the fact he were wealthy a prominent for his sexual depravity. He had became so used to his wealth that he finally slipped up, as a hostage had got away during one of his many times that he had tried to force himself on one of his own prized horses. Matilda had survived her own rape, and so she admired all the tall men and women who stood opposite to the King Augeas and his many chins and personalities. Matilda knew she had the honor of met these brave people on purpose, as she handed them back their papers, and telling the women who cried endless tears “Me Too” hoping someday these heroic women would be strong enough talk about whatever had made their hearts heavy. This lead to a ripple on the land, as Matilda now used her dreams to sooth the countless women who had once fell victim to King Augeas, absorbing and surviving their nightmares until her new friends no longer feared the beast.

Matilda had once loved the stables, as her father and her used to bond over the fancy stables and sites provided by the horses that bought at insane prices while stable workers received almost nothing. It was here that her papa had once gifted her with hints, as he showed her the race in which Truman finally walked up the stairs and out the door and expected her to understand as a child. He would point out all the horses with a definitive beauty mark, blonde hair, or curly hair and say "that's you", as though she were always the star of every horse race. It would be years before she found the races labeled "Get Out, and Us" on the stable boards that light up, and remembered her conversation with her papa, as he attempted to explain to her that she needed to jog her memories as fast as she could for some random reason. It wouldn't be until she saw a story within her golden fleece that she recalled the whole incident with with her papa, as she now remembered that she once actually knew a woman her dad called Hera whenever she left the room, a dead-eyed savage that had married into Matilda's family: luckily of no relation. This was vindictive and violent woman, as she waited until Matilda's papa had died until she began to feel safe enough as to abuse Matilda. She would deter her from finding her culture, as Hera bragged she were from a land across the sea. A place where Matilda and her siblings had once had their faces carved into a parthenon, a standing monument to their familial might. The woman ripped and clawed at Matilda and her face any chance she could as she scared her lips and chin with her talons. The woman loved hyping and preparing Matilda for her future life of incarceration: the expectations set. When this didn't work: Matilda had been forced by the woman known as Hera: referred to today as her reincarnated name: Carmen. The woman being paid to foster Matilda: would now force her to eat a large bag of ants for a week: punishment for Matilda having pointed out that her breakfast had been infested with ants in the first place. The abuse would only continue to escalate until the woman finally decided to pounce on Matilda as she wept uncontrollably, sad because she could no longer remember the sound of her papas mumbling voice. To this inconvenience Matilda was punished to permanent grounding, as Carmen stole and forbid Matilda from having books, music and food whenever she deemed fit. It were her goal to keep Matilda ignorant and submissive to her abuse as she was seclusion to all things that weren't child labor: Matilda and Desmona had once ran a childcare operation as pre-teens ruling over ten random kids while Hera often sat and did nothing. Carmen dismissed the teens exhausted pleas of grieving kindness and simply said "I don't know why you're crying...he wasn't even your dad", and with that one statement of displacement Matilda finally left her childhood home..never to return. Matilda would later regret leaving her sister Desmona with a woman who had been famous for her cunning demeanor and sustaining a Diet from Santa Clarita. Matilda never knew why her papa had married the woman in the first place, but she looked forward to the day when she'd get to tell her dad of his dead-eyed savage of a wife and her evils. He wondered what he'd say since he'd also been tortured as child by the Hydra: unsure if he knew that his Hydra-crest wearing wife Carmen had the audacity as to torture Matilda as child the second he had left unprotected. Matilda knew in the meantime she was to avoid the Redwood forest where Hera now hid, and now Matilda knew that child abuse was human rights violation. A law the Carmen had broken for over four years as she attempted to force Matilda to bow at every expense, stating she believed it were her "duty to break her", a religious terrorists who hid behind a cross and abused children in the comfort of her own home. Matilda had only told the Kindhearted Hunters a few of the things the hag Carmen had forced her to say, feel or do in the past. To these safe understandings of family, healing and time passed: Matilda was left only with the option as to continue her journey, and in the meantime she'd savage for clues in the building with still but moving horses that reside in the place Matilda occasionally called a shit stable.

Matilda arrived at crescent drive and crescent plaza, and stared up at the lit up stable that she often avoided at all costs. She began to scavenge the road, as she walked into the dim stables. Matilda had began to be annoyed by the beast, as she looked for the bushy tail that often purposely wagged sassily in front of Matilda. She continued to search the stables as she wandered in the darkened building that was filled with monsters and demons alike. As Matilda walked down the never-ending hallways and popped her head into each of the sixteen stables she noted someone following her slowly. Matilda turned to see one of her managers with long hair holding the black fur of the green eyed animal: stiff by the scruff of her neck as though setting a warning as she approached cautiously to save her beloved moody pet. The manager stated that they knew that the wild beast belonged to Matilda, and that they’d been waiting for her to slip up: if only to finally find reason to rid her from their employee list. To this Matilda laughed and told the so called leader to "fuck off" and that she’d give the manager until the count of three to gently release her beast.

The manager had never been spoken to like that by those who were openly called inferior, and so they took wise and let go of the animal who had opal colored eyes and teeth of a dragon. Chandler was a good girl, and Matilda could tell there were no fight to the death to be held today, as Chandler looked over her should past her own butt back at the manager who had the audacity to hold her without permission by: Desmona, her husband Kenny or Matilda. The small animal had enough shit to say for the both of them so Matilda let her do her thing, as she casually returned and rubbed along the shins of a human she actually knew. The small hind was now bored of the dead-eyed savages and missed her home as she slow blinked, and with that they both turned to leave the shit filled stables.

Matilda walked to the lobby of the stables where others often stood in cattle lines to retrieve their overpriced corn. It was here that Matilda heard the manager whisper to another manager: once more they felt powerful enough to feel the need to talk about Matilda and her inability to walk without pain, discomfort or occasional limp. This made Matilda cry, as she felt embarrassed by the fact she needed a chair or the aid of brace to stand and walk as her spine was curved and was progressively worsening. Matilda felt her warm tears trickle down her face, barely seeing her furry pet transform into a massive beast the size of a stallion. To this bad-assery Matilda instantly stopped crying and said “whoa...holy-balls”: as she wasn't aware the cute animal could do that. The oversized beast lunged at the managers and instinctively began to maul the many smug faces of all those Chandler had seen laugh or talk aboot her auntie Matilda when she were absent to defend herself. Matilda: unaware of how often the managers had degraded and threatened her in the past: stood busy staring in shock as the battle inferred between the fluffy animal and all those now stuck in the middle of frazzled the chaos that had now erupted in the stables.

Matilda was unsure of what to do in the case: as the animal was technically defending one of its owners, and the manager had brought it on themselves as Matilda wasn’t sure what the treatment was like between the manager and the small hind. It would seem that Chandler had gotten the same treatment from the managers that Matilda had been privy to: at least from what she could tell by the reaction of the now bloody managers who now begged for their lives. The supersonic speed of the animal was no match for any human, and Matilda was no different, as she finally instructed the beast that it were finally enough. To this the beast glared at Matilda, for she was not one of her true owners: Desmona and her husband Kenny. It was unsettling to see such large green eyes and black fur growl and hiss as she refused the orders and continued to rip at the throats of the managers who the small hind had heard threatening her old friend and who had even dared to degrade her auntie Matilda by calling her a beast.

Matilda was not equipped to fight this massive fluff-ball and used the time of the mauling to run down the endless hallway as she ran to closest restroom. The stalls of these stables were plenty and too few all at once, but endlessly trying to overflow if Matilda didn’t clean them. Evidently Matilda was the only one who was forced to clean shit, as the managers had enjoyed watching her on her hands and knees with her face stuck next to a stall of shit as she scrubbed the bowls. Matilda had never been deterred by hard-work, and so she put on her favorite hoops and put her Princess bun high atop her head as she scrubbed for almost no earnings. The stables paid poor, and Matilda already owed the Boar her tax returns, and all future earnings, as she had managed to rake up 45,000 in debt by forcing herself to attend University, and now they had hunted her down as they cut her earnings wherever she went. This was how she ended up shoveling shit in the first place. As Matilda paced up and down the restroom trying to develop plan she remembered that there had been a leaking faucet and a toilet that refused to stay fixed. Well...Matilda had told the managers of these two problems in multiple ways to no avail, and so she assumed they had been fixed since then. As she observed the leaks, she giggled to herself and said "never-mind" and shrugged. She had made jokes to herself of the managers by giving them the benefit of a doubt, assuming that they would have ever done anything other than sitting locked away in an office as they degraded their workers that they had hand selected to work in their stables.

To this already broken property: Matilda said fuck it. She began to rip off the silver boxes that were tacked on the walls to hold paper, and began to break as many porcelain toilets as she could. As she took finally blow to the last stall: she saw that there was now shit plastered from wall to wall as the toilets had now become fountains spewing shit. Matilda began to gag, as the smell began to fill the restroom with warm air filled with feces. Evidently she had forgotten to hydrate and felt her eyes tunnel into blackness, as she finally collapsed from lack of oxygen and clean water in a growing lake of shit that now began to flood the restroom of the busy stables.

Matilda woke up to her friend and fellow stable worker Cathrine as she slapped her hard across the face in the hopes to make her friend gain consciousness. It worked as Matilda stared at her old pal and made light of the situation by only saying “o no...we brown”. Both the woman kindly smiled to one another as they enjoyed making fun of their pigmentation so others couldn’t. Catherine was covered in shit, having walked into the stalls looking for help as there was evidently a large black fluffy beast mauling managers for reasons Catherine didn’t know. Matilda told mumbled as she managed to break suction that the moist waste held her to the floor upon fainting. She updated her friend that it were her loving animal Chandler: a surprise to Cathrine who had often unknowingly petted the now oversized fluffy beast.

The two knew the animal had a right to charge the gaggle of managers, but it didn’t mean it were acceptable to avoid from stopping the small hind that continued to claw and bite at the necks of the managers who had threatened her family. Catherine and Matilda continued to rush about the bathroom as they now began to break the already broken line of water faucets frantically running out of time. Matilda asked for her help as the last sink was still intact and hard to knock off the counter. The two women took their silver boxes and stood on the faucet as they braced against the mirrors that covered the wall as they delivered the last stomps and the line of sinks burst open spewing clean water everywhere as it overflowed from the sinks and weaved itself over the layer of shit that now covered the restroom stalls of the stable.

The sink began to back up as the pressure built up under the counter until the two women were finally swept up in the shit and water, as they were slickly whipped from their feet from the restroom into the hallway on a tsunami wave of beast repealing shit and water. As they helped one another up they looked around the lobby of the stables, as they were the cleanest the two had ever seen them. They admired their work and began to look for the small hind known as Chandler as they saw no living thing in sight of the immaculate and now empty building. Catherine pointed out the beast as they followed a fluffy black tail as it turned a corner, and as they reached the hallway: the beast had returned to her petite size once more and sat judging the pair as though they were late for attending a ball. The animal began to lick her small paws, and the two collected her as Matilda said by to her friend Catrine and thanked her for the help as she took her family and left the dead-eyed savages with their addictions to escapism and consumerism. Knowing now that the labor had been done for free, as the managers paid her with endless mocking and degrading Matilda and spreading rumors of vitriol disdain for her limp and crooked spine without caring that she were a person. Matilda took her Chandler and bounced, never to return to the stables where they made fun of her for looking like her furry friend that she now held with one hand. A mighty wee package were the two: wielding and delivering the power and justice of a thousand beast.

Matilda walked the animal home, and as she opened the door once more she was greeted by the sight of her sister Desmona. The girl was sitting in the middle of the empty apartment in the middle of the room crying. The woman had been crying endlessly as her Kenny had left to also go look for Chandler, and she was upset that she were alone. Matilda gave her sister her magnificent animal back as she tired to console her elder sister. Desmona had said that her and Kenny had argued about the way she had treated the animal in the past, and that it were no wonder the animal had ran away: he too was upset he had lost his family member as she had wandered to the stables. Matilda tried to boost her mood by distracting her with her own pet, and watched as the woman began to cry harder. She stated she worried her Kenny would leave her forever if she lost their pet, as they had parented her together. To this Matilda informed her sister that she could be nicer to their small hind, as she had noted that Desmona had an occasional temper with the domesticated animal. As the woman began to cry harder: Matilda talked over the sobbing as she attempted to resolve the wailing girl and unburdening her own heart at the same time. Matilda confessed that she had once harmed her own beast as an angry and violent youth, and spent every waking day regretting it as her heart was weighed down by her own sins. For Matilda had lost her beloved animal known as Emilio as he had wandered off when she were forced to move residencies last minute. Matilda said that she wished herself harm and even death each day because she now knew the innocent animal had done anything wrong other than love her unconditionally. To this honesty the sister stopped crying, as she hadn’t known that Matilda harboured such hatred and anger in the way she had expressed in detail, as she never allowed anyone to see it outside of her stories and drawn pictures. Matilda began to cry as she realized that every awful thing in her life that had happened since then had felt like pure karma for how Matilda had once treated her best friend: a loyal companion who just happened to be a small beast.

As Matilda cried she told her sister how she were ashamed of her actions and that she knew she didn’t deserve to parent a magnificent animal. She lamented that she had dreams and nightmares where she were running around the city at night running away from a dark figure who wished to harm her as she searched for her beloved animal, Buckles, or even the Viking on occasion. Desmona said she had recently had a dream that Matilda were locked in a room screaming as she were beaten and raped and her sister helpless to break down the door in the hallway. To this Matilda glared at nobody, as she had never told anyone about the locked room with only a bare hardened mattress and light buzzing and flickering ominously above. This was the exact room that Matilda would often be kidnapped to in her nightmares, as she were forced to relive the day of her rape as an infant. She lived in horror of sleep, as her dreams always began with the unbuttoning of her one piece that opened at the crotch. This rape she remembered vividly throughout the day, being paralyzed and in pain as she laid on her back staring up at the light on the ceiling wishing the excruciating pain would cease for only one night even if it meant her death. Matilda would spent her entire day avoiding all those around her: assured that the dead-eyed savages wish she were raped again if only to watch and jump at the chance to mock her crushed spine. A spine that received its first physical trauma at the age of one and a half, when a full grown man decided it were his privilege to force his erect penis into a baby until she screamed and howled the screams of a full grown woman as she’s tortured, as her drunken birth mother was nowhere to be found while her baby was raped repeatedly. Desmona was not ready to hear this story: and she may never be ready, and so Matilda holds it in as a secret out of concern for her sisters comfort. As they hugged one another crying: Kenny walked in the front door nonchalantly asking if anyone had found Chandler. The two giggled at Desmona and her melodrama, but left the moment at that: for they now had all their family together once more. Matilda would allow the world to know the details of her life as whore, as she continued to write down her adventures in a story wrote for no one, and shared by few, as Matilda and the readers were now left looking at a manuscript asking themselves "what is this?": Matilda now afraid to stop writing as her readers were finally asking her is she were real, as though she hadn't given the world enough clues with the leaves and flowers as she had once planted herself in all art crafted from cement, or ink until her name was known the world as she had once had the name Tila after the Yurok God of Destruction. Her presence only know by those who believed in a battle angel or holy ghost. The first name ever written on caves in the past, as even she had heard Yurok stories that she had personally taught the mute ancestors how to count and speak in the language of the original ancestors. Following the understanding of the skies and numbers, Matilda gifted them with written language, as they mistakenly thought her name was "You" as she were always pointing and directing at others. Legend says that the name Matilda was shortened to Tila when the Goddess were in battle as her name was forever honored by calling all men "Sir" despite the fact that it were only her true name. Matilda had been told by her dad in the forest that her name was hidden: as it was written for all of history as the pictograph "I" or as the number "1". Matilda knew it were silly and asinine enjoying the idea that world evolved around only her, and admired her own name occasionally when writing in the ancient Yurok languages made of 1's and 0's . These types of experiences: Matilda often avoided talking about with the dead-eyed savages that still roamed her land, as they had made sport of her ability to daydream growing up. She did not wish her readers the curses she held for seeking patterns obsessively: the way Matilda had since learning of her existence in a past life as a winged Deity. She wished to ward the madness from the minds of her readers but knew she'd written enough to help the world remember, and it the rest were solely up to her readers to make with it whatever they choose. Matilda now sat safely with her Golden Fleece :watching avidly as she hoped all those who read her work would admire her strength as she had mightily joined two rivers into one: a task previously only successfully done by Hercules, fulfilling his labours. Matilda wrote for no crowd, and held attention with only those wise enough to dare finish learning of their ancestors sins. Matilda knew she'd continue on her quest with or without her readers, but thanked them as each vote of approval gave Matilda the pride of a thousand horses, and each completed read allowed her to finally breath with ease knowing she'd done her best to explain her life and culture in a language she'd just learned. She now held no shame in her body and her actions as Matilda watched as her music sounded and felt different, and her heart seemed lighter than it ever had in her entire life for she had finally told someone, anyone about the empty room in odd fear of the chance of Matilda being inception-ed in the future. The two sisters and Kenny grew closer because of all the furry babies they all cared for, but it would be only Matilda who still cried for endless shame of having lost her temper and forever losing her favorite beast.

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