#Uncle Gerd
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#Dinner Suggestions From the Cannibal Family#dinner#meals#meal planning#TW cannibals#TW cannibal#Uncle Gerd#unreality
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An alternative ending to the idea I posted earlier:
She cautiously got up and kept her eyes on the wolf, it was watching her too. But something about it was unnatural. Its eyes. Not brown, or amber like most wild wolves but they were green. The last time she saw a copper wolf with green eyes..memories she had locked away flooded forward. “..Gabriel?” she dared to ask the wolf. It stopped growling and tilted its head, as if it recognized the name. “Is.. is that you?”
In the blink of an eye, the wolf transformed into a man, he threw an arm around her. “Gracie! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
Gabriel was different. His jade green eyes now had hints of amber, his ears slightly pointer, his smile now showcasing canine teeth alongside his normal human ones. Everything about this Gabriel screamed “wild and feral”, his messy red hair had grown longer.
“You look good!”
“Can’t say the same for you, you look like you were picked up by a tornado, even worse than you did back during the voodoo murders.”
“Hah-Hah. Good to see you haven’t changed.”
This Gabriel was also leaner, more muscular. Grace noticed his entire torso was covered in scratches.
“What.. what happened?” Grace pointed to one of the many scars on his body. “Let’s just say we like it rough” He wiggled his eyebrows at her like she knew who he was talking about. “You know what. Forget I asked”
“What brings you to this side of the woods, Gracie?”
Grace instinctively reached towards the talisman Gabriel used to wear. “Oh. I see.”
“Your Gran misses you. How exactly are you going to explain -“
“Relax. Me and Friedrich got it figured out. We made an agreement that we visit my Gran as often as possible. Lucky he’s the resourceful type, he had a lot of money saved up.”
“Oh”
“You should be careful Gracie, not all the wolves in these woods are friendly.”
“I know what I’m getting myself into Gabriel. You literally haven’t seen me in years and you’re still trying to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do?”
He raised his hands in defense. “Okay. Okay. How’s everything at the castle?”
“Gerde has finally been able to date again, although she still misses your Uncle. Schloss Ritter is the same, seems to always need repair. I asked Mosely to shut down the bookstore.. ya know since neither of us will ever permanently return to New Orleans. He asked about you”
“Gracie..”
“Don’t worry. I haven’t spoiled your little secrets.. yet. He’s gonna get a kick out of you running around naked with another man” she smiles coyly.
“If you do I swear I’ll shred everything in the schattenjäger library”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Well don’t come crying to me if you one day find the library tore to pieces”
Grace would never admit it, but she missed the little bickering between them.
“It’s good to see you again.”
“You too.”
“Stay safe alright?”
“Yeah.” She smiled as she watched him shapeshift back into a wolf and disappear into the distance.
#the savior writes#gabriel knight the beast within#gabriel knight#this is what i write instead of working on my other wips 🙄#got the idea in the middle of the night too
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So apparently part 6 of the Strawhat Grand Fleet got eaten so it is here again
The Stories of the Self-Proclaimed Straw Hat Grand Fleet
Part 6: The New Giant Warrior Pirates
"To Buggy the Clown,
We quit.
-Signed Hajrudin, Captain of the New Giant Warrior Pirates."
Buggy: get those badtards back!! They're my top money makers!!
Mohji: and who are they exactly??
Buggy: the new giant warrior pirates. A small crew consisting of only 5 members
Buggy: The Captain, Hajdruin
Mohji: where are his pants??
Buggy: not important. Next we have Stansen, their Shipwright. Apparently Uncle Rayleigh broke him out of slavery when he met the strawhats.
Mohji: okay. Now who's this emo boy band looking wannabe?
Buggy: That's Road. The aptly named navigator of the crew
Mohji:I also expect that he's also a master swordsman
Buggy: Probably. Next is the Cook, Goldberg.
Mohji: the fuck is wrong with his shield?
Buggy: many things. And lastly is their Docotor, Gerd.
Mohji:Awoo-gah!!!
Buggy: Restrain yourself you filthy animal. She will destroy you.
Mohji: I know she's a giant.
Buggy: not like that you buffoon. She's a childhood friend of Big Mom.
Mohji: what?
Buggy: apparently she was their when Big Mom went on her rampage there when she was a kid. Goddammit I just lost ny best money makers.
Mohji: there's also a P.S.
Buggy: what is it?
Mohji: "we're taking 500 Million berries also"
Buggy: GODAMMIT.
Uncle Rayleigh
Also Buggy being like 'get a hold of yourself you pervert'. I cant wait for them to meet the straw hats again
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Uncle Frey what happened to auntie gerd? 😭
My beautiful Gerd is still at home in Jotunheim. She requested that I take a vacation, so I’ve been out and about giving her some space! We’ve had a few spats about things I’ve done in the past…
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title: time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it
rating: pg-13 for mentions of sexual situations and some light disturbing imagery.
pairing: grace nakimura/gabirel knight. also brief mentions of malia gedde/gabriel knight and fredrich von glower/gabriel knight.
trigger warning: pregnancy mention. slight sexual situations. disturbing imagery. threat of harm to a child (but thwarted). mental health issues. not beta'd bc it's against my gremlin religion, but can you guess how tswift inspired this? bc she totally did.
summary: gabriel's point of view from whoops, in which he buries ghosts, admits that he does have feelings (just no brain cells!), and somehow doesn't run from fatherhood kicking and screaming. (jane jensen i am looking at you GIVE US A BONE TELL ACTIVISION TO GIVE US SOMETHING!)
Time moved slowly. Not for anyone else, but for him it did.
Seasons came and went, but there he stood, the last Schattenjager, holding down Schloss Ritter like a soldier overrun in battle who didn’t know how to surrender.
It seemed everyone had a life. They were all making moves, growing, and changing while he still felt stagnant.
Gerde had gotten married. He didn’t attend the service, didn’t think he could stomach it, but he sent the bride and groom a generous gift of money and beer. Seeing as how Gerde, like most German’s, didn’t trust Gabriel, an American, when it came to beer, she sent it back with a thank you note.
Mosely was even seeing someone—he didn’t know if he should tell them a good job or that poor woman, so he decided on both when he got the news, only to be hung up on—too. A widower with two sons for the past five months or so. “Still too early to be thinkin’ ‘bout this an’ all, but” Moseley had said over the phone, relaxing at the station in New Orleans while Gabriel nursed his Tennessee Whiskey near his typewriter. “Hell, Knight. Can you imagine me being a dad? Hell, I’m hardly a good enough uncle to my sister’s kids.”
He could, actually; one of those picket fence type of fathers who wore a fanny-pack with snacks, always complaining about the thermostat, and grilled burgers and hot dogs on Sunday evenings. The sort that Gabriel used to dream about when he was a kid. Like hell he’d ever admit it, though, so instead he went with, “at least they won’t get your looks.”
“Ass.”
“Still got a better one than you, Mostly.”
And he stayed still, all alone in Schloss Ritter, surrounded by mountains and trees, more of a ghost most days than a person.
Gran was another one he worried about. Her mind was sharper than a whip, but her body began to fall behind, little by little. Pretty soon she wouldn’t be able to live by herself, something she took so much pride in, and when he had to tell her that the hitch in her breath broke his heart.
“We all grow old sometime, Gabriel,” she had told him over the phone, keeping good cheer and forcing a smile that never met her eyes. He knew that smile. That was his girl. His world. He hated ever being the reason for her to have that look.
“You ain’t ever getting' old, Gran,” he said, in an attempt of levity. “Besides, ain’t for a while, yet. It’s just something we gotta look after. I’ll be by to visit you soon. Got so many stories to tell you about Granddaddy’s family.”
He also missed her more than anything.
She had laughed and if he could imagine it, he would be able to see how her eyes would roll heavenward good-naturedly, but at least her eyes were smiling along with her mouth this time. “I’ll hold you to that, sweetheart.” And then, as always, “I love you, dear. Take care.”
When he wasn’t being a Schattenjager, or a writer with the largest bout of writer’s block known to man, he would lay on his back spread eagle and stare at the ceiling in his study. Sometimes he would think of Grace.
Depending on how sober he was, or how lonely, he mostly just thought of the things he wanted to tell her. Whenever he had a new idea for a book, or a breakthrough on a case, or just a thought in general, his first instinct always was, I’ve gotta tell Gracie. Only to remember, oh, she was on another continent. Unreachable. Gone.
When he was really, really drunk, he would think of that night. If it was only once, they would both brush it off as adrenaline, but they slept with each other more than once. No matter what he’d tell anyone in the light of day, once wasn’t enough that night, and considering his back was covered with the markings of her nails the next morning, it was the same for her.
Three whole times that night.
He was thirty-five. While there wasn’t much thinking involved, he had to admit that he was damn impressed with his stamina. Mostly with Grace, who was every bit of the firecracker he had imagined. She was all fire and consumed every inch of him that, if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought he was being possessed.
Morning had come, as it always would, and everything changed.
Now she was miles away with only a note. He didn’t remember what it said, didn’t bother keeping it when he crumbled it up, but he got the jest: she outgrew him, she needed more, and wished him the best.
He could focus on how angry, how hurt, he had been, but what really haunted him was how hurt she looked that morning.
“Ass,” he said to the ether, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.
“You do have a good one,” a silky voice spoke. When he turned around, Malia sat—or an apparition, or just his mind playing tricks on him, or both—on the sofa in his study, legs crossed, looking every bit the same she did when he first saw her. Ebony curls framed her face, and those deep brown that held flecks of gold made her eyes almost seem ethereal. “That was my first thought when I saw you with the Detective—damn, that man has a nice ass.”
A chuckle bubbled from Gabriel, his eyes growing misty, even if he didn’t want them to. Didn’t deserve to cry over her. He sat up but remained where he was. He didn’t dare stand. He also didn’t dare to walk over to her. He wanted to keep Malia Gedde, forever thirty-something, forever lovely, in his mind as she was.
“I wish I could’ve saved you,” he hated to make that bright smile falter, but he needed her to know that. She was the first woman he’d ever could imagine a future with. They had known each other for a handful of days, sure, but his parents were a whirlwind romance, too. That future went to ash just when she did. “I always save you when I dream.”
It was her who moved off the sofa, who sat by him, this phantom of Malia Gedde, the first woman he ever loved, and cupped his face with both of her hands so he could look at her. “You did, Gabriel,” a ghost of a kiss was pressed on his lips, “I didn’t have much of a life before you; I was Lazarus, and you gave me life. Now let me return the favor.” She rubbed her nose against his, and his eyes fell shut as did hers, willing time to continue to slow for this moment. “Live.”
“Ain’t that what I’m doin’?” He sounded petulant, which made her huff out a laugh, but he kept on. “Might have a great ass, but not exactly a great person to be around.”
She pressed her lips against his forehead, almost an atonement, almost a benediction. “Fight a little while longer, Mr. Knight,” her lips moved against his forehead, and he was brought back to the few nights in his room at the bookshop, entwined together as his hands roamed up and down her dark skin, entwining in those ebony curls of hers as she straddled his lap at a furious pace.
After, she always placed a kiss on his forehead, once the two came down from their heights and settled back on earth.
“I’ll always be with you, my love.”
He woke up, back acting up something awful for sleeping on the floor, still feeling the lips against his forehead.
***
Gran fell in her kitchen one Saturday afternoon. It took him no time at all to book the quickest flight to New Orleans, and within the handful of hours from Munich to the states, he onboarded the plane from Louis Armstrong International and took the first Taxi he saw to the hospital.
“It was just a little fall,” Gran had soothed him as he sat by her bed, holding her smaller, wrinkled hand in his. “Got a few bruises, is all. I’m fine.”
For all the times she’d narrow her eyes to his bold-faced lies, he returned the favor, placing a kiss on that hand of hers reverently. “This time it’s a few bruises, Gran. What about the next?”
His life was already full of shadows. The day Rebecca Knight would go gently into that good night, and he knew she would, all that was warm and bright would go with her. She had raised him. Loved him. Accepted him with open arms. He knew she had reservations on how he lived his life, mostly out of coming from a different time when most men his age were married, settled, with scours of little ones, but she never made a fuss. She always listened to him and encouraged him to follow his heart.
“We’ll pick out someone to come and see you regularly,” Gabriel began before she could say anything else, “someone that you like. Don’t worry ‘bout the cost; nothin’ but the best for my girl.”
She snorted, shaking her head as she lay on the hospital bed, smiling up at him as if he were nine and told her of his day, mostly about making mischief with Mosely. He had always left out the things that would get him in big trouble, though, but he figured she knew of them all the same. “And what about you, dear?”
“What about me?”
That smile turned sad, and the hand he had been holding snuck out of his grasp to run his hands through his unruly strawberry-blond hair. The red came from his mama, just like his eyes; the rest came from his daddy. Gran always said that his daddy lived on in his smile. “I know you’re a grown man, but sometimes I look at you, and I still see that little boy.” Gran looked wistful. “You’re lonely, aren’t you?”
He made a face, but she ignored him. She knew his tells more than anyone else. “It’s your life, you know, I just... I just know how long life can be, if you’re lucky, but also how lonely it could be with no one, if you’re unlucky.”
A thought came to him, “were you lonely, Gran?”
She shook her head, swallowing hard, “never, not when I had you, even miles away from you—not lonely. Never lonely. I only want you to feel like that someday. Whole.”
***
He stayed for a week, or maybe edging on for a week and a half, meeting client after client. She eventually decided on a redhead who was studying for her Nursing degree at Tulane. The girl looked younger than she probably was, proudly showing her engagement ring to Gran who cooed and tittered, and that was that. Her name was Rose. Cute kid, bit of an old soul, and out of the fifty candidates she was the only one to make his Gran laugh so hard her whole-body shook.
“Call me when you can, dear,” she had told him and given him one of those bone crushing hugs that he’d missed more than he’d like to admit. He even returned it, causing her to chuckle. “Also, tell that Grace to call, too. I’ve missed her stories.”
If she noticed how his body went frigid at the mention of Grace, she said nothing, but with leaving a kiss on her rouge covered cheek he got his things and left. Not after telling her, he loved her, and that he would call as soon as he could.
He even met with Mosely. Met his girlfriend, Daniella, and immediately gave her condolences. Her boys were with her late husband’s parents for the weekend, but he promised to return soon to meet them, too.
Her oldest, Antonio, was a fan of his books, even though he was only fourteen years old. Hadn’t he read Dracula at eleven? He couldn’t judge.
He left New Orleans feeling a little lighter, anyway.
It just made returning to Rittersberg bearable, knowing he did right by at least one person in his life.
Imagine his surprise when he saw Gerde’s car where it usually was. Imagine his surprise when he went into the ancestral castle to hear two voices, female, whispering over a roaring fire.
The blonde with the curls was Gerde. Bright eyed and happier than she had been in some time, making peace with his Uncle Wolfgang’s death, while moving on with her life with the sort of uncanny humility and grace many of those who had plenty of years on her would never be able to do. The sort of resilience many never write stories about, or wax poetic about, or even consider to be a strength, when it was the utmost example of true strength that a human being could possess.
“— if I were you, I would focus on telling Gabriel—,”
That caught his attention, and suddenly he made his presence known, “Tellin’ me what?”
It was then he noticed the woman Gerde was speaking to. Almost hard to, since it’s been months since he had seen her. Every time he thought about her, he thought of that face she made when he dismissed her, how it was the first time he ever made her face crumble like a house of cards that he knew of, and it was a lance to his heart every time he imagined it. She began to cough, Gerde patting her back encouragingly, and once she waved the blonde woman off Gabriel noticed how quickly she scurried out of the room, leaving a cup of cocoa behind.
“Grace?” This wasn’t an apparition, right? Gerde was talking to her, who wasn’t in his mind since she had bumped into me in her attempt to leave—quickly—and even avoiding eye contact while doing so. She stood up slowly, pushing herself as if she were a guilty child, being prepared for the scolding of a lifetime, and slowly turned around.
Her hair had gotten longer. He liked it. It fell in a loose brain that she wore on the side, her dark bangs wispy, always said she liked them because it covered her large forehead. She looked fuller, skin aglow from the firelight, and the first thought was, hell, why did I never notice how beautiful she was? Oh, she was attractive, but beautiful?
It almost took his breath away.
When he noticed how she absent-mindedly rubbed her stomach—her rather round stomach, and not a product of eating well but something else—his breath did leave him.
“Hi, Gabe.”
She sounded younger. Five years his junior, sure, but now she just sounded so...small. She, who always seemed like a giant by way of her personality, suddenly didn’t seem so big anymore.
It killed him.
He made his way in front of her and there they stood, illuminated by the flames in the fireplace, no more than five feet apart and looked everywhere but each other.
It sounded like the worst thing to ever ask, and he knew he had no right to ask, “is it mine?” It didn’t matter the answer. He’d offer her all he could no matter what. She nodded, and he felt his stomach drop. Shit. “Right. Well, damn, Gracie. You keepin’ it?”
Not his business. Right, but the question slipped out none the less.
“Her,” and despite himself, his breath catches. Her. A girl. A little girl that, if Grace never made her way back to Rittersberg, he’d never know about. “I wanted to tell you in person. I, um, I don’t want anything, or I don’t want to make you do anything...”
He nodded. He kept nodding with every word she said like an idiot. “No, no, I get it,” but there she was giving him that look, “I do.” And then, because this was so much—he's going to be a daddy to a little girl that has been living for, what, six months, without his knowledge. He and Grace had made a little girl that night. He, a fatherless child, was going to be a father! —he blurted out, “well, um, your room is still yours. Nice to see you, Grace.”
He stumbled as he ran up the winding stairs, doing his best to ignore the sound of Grace’s sobbing.
***
“If you had chosen me,” a heavily accented voice told him in his ear, a firm hand placed on his shoulder almost gently, “you would’ve never been in this predicament.”
“And more lives lost than saved,” he told the phantom, shrugging off Fredrich’s hand as if it burnt him. More ghosts in the night, always hovering near him, and his bare feet made their way toward his window. A full moon. Sometimes if he imagined it hard enough, he would hear wolves howling.
He never missed how his heart clenched at the memory.
“Do you hate me that much, Gabriel, that you can’t even look at me?”
It’s because I don’t hate you that I can’t, he thought with a grimace, swallowing. “I told you to go before.” He hated how his voice broke.
Ever so dominant, full of confidence that Gabriel only played pretend at, he moved to where Gabriel had to face him anyway. He looked just like he did on the night he spent at his estate, sitting across from him, drinking and laughing together, being pulled in with those rich brown eyes. Christ. He had a type. “We would have made such beautiful memories, my friend,” his thumb traced Gabriel’s bottom lip, causing the man to open his mouth without thinking.
He never thought about men before. After, he only ever thought of one. Then Fredrich spoke, and the spell ended. “I only wished that you chose me.”
And since this had to be all in his head, he had a chance to be honest, “if only you wanted me as I was,” Gabriel replied. “I wanted you as you were.”
Or, well, maybe somewhat honest. Did he want him as he really was, or who he was presented as?
All Gabriel knew was that he wanted him. All he knew was that much like Malia, if things had been different, there could’ve been a future.
The smile the baron made was rueful, catching the uncertainty of his last statement, but instead of when he haunted him before his brown eyes weren’t so hard. “Sad, isn’t it? You kill me so you can live,” Gabriel’s heart clenched painfully, “but you are hardly living. Not even for your little one, growing in the belly of your assistant in a room not too far from you—do you hear how she cries, Gabriel? How scared she is while you hide in your room?”
He said nothing.
Still, the man went on, “do you know how lucky you are to be given such a gift? If I had a chance to experience a family, a family of my own choosing without being chained to what is considered traditional, I would’ve taken it without thought.” Regardless of his words earlier, Gabriel heard nothing but raw honesty. “Fought and killed for it with all my power.”
“Kill me or kiss me,” because he was at the end of his rope. Fredrich von Glower was dead and gone and he didn’t need to think of some fantasy where he and Grace and the black fucking wolf played house. It hurt enough to have him here when it wasn’t really him. “Just shut the hell up.”
Funny how the first kiss, their first kiss, would be in his head. All teeth and aggression, mixed with a pining he had never known. Fredrich von Glower had seduced him, who usually was the one who seduced, flawlessly, and even in death he had him in his web. Never slept with the man, but God, if he were alive, if he were here right now—
Air. There was nothing but air when he came too, leaning against the cold window of his room, breathing harshly.
***
Talking with Grace was...something. He couldn’t avoid it, push it under the rug, because the evidence of what they both did grew and grew little by little. She waddled about, rubbing her lower back herself, sporting mostly maternity overalls over a sweater because, even if she was raised in New York, New Orleans spoiled me with its heat. It’s too damn cold here, Knight. He’d almost grown fond of hearing the shuffling of her house shoes because, well, only white people walk around in a home with their shoes on, ass.
“That baby in there is half-white, you know,” the cheek came so easy, like coming home in some ways.
Grace gave as good as she got, “oh, I know. It’s why the only spices I’ve been able to handle are salt and pepper.”
He laughed. Oh, how he laughed, and oh how he missed her. The best thing about it? She laughed, too, and he missed that even more.
She wasn’t a ghost. She was there, in front of him, her eyes darker than Fredrich’s and Malia’s combined, but they twinkled like tiny diamonds whenever she laughed. No glasses, still, only contacts. Too much maintenance, she had told him when he had asked about the change.
He went with her to Munich to on check-ups, peering at a blurry, black and white blob on the screen as the baby’s heartbeat filled the room; couldn’t really tell that there was a baby, besides the heartbeat and Grace’s expanded stomach, but something made his heart skip, nonetheless. “You guys sure it’s gonna be a girl?” Hell, its technology, after all. It wasn’t perfect.
“Ja, Herr Knight,” the assistant replied with a laugh, “see here?” She pointed with the hand that wasn’t controlling the wand on Grace’s stomach and he leaned over to take a closer look, “that is just an arm, and there is a leg, and—oh, it looks like she’s tired of us looking! She’s turning around.”
“I don’t blame her,” Grace said, and Gabriel didn’t miss the note of fondness in her voice.
Blood work was fine. The scans were fine. Everything was fine, but something began to claw at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.
After the appointment—to which she needed to pee as soon as she was dressed—they ate at McDonalds. It was cheap, near the clinic, and it had a restroom.
It seemed most of what Grace did was pee.
They ordered an extra pair of fries to go on the way back to Schloss Ritter, and when she wasn’t stuffing her face with fries—he was able to steal a few with only a glare that had no heat to it when caught—they made small talk. Safe topics. “I need to ask you something. Don’t be mad, okay?”
Well, mostly safe topics.
“Shoot,” he turned right, keeping his eyes on the road. He missed his bike, drove better on it, but when he suggested he could install a little seat beside him as he drove since she couldn’t exactly straddle a bike anymore, the groan she made sounded like she was being tortured.
“Are we having a Whoops, or just a black-and-white blob?”
He barked out a laugh. She laughed, too, and suddenly they both physically could not stop laughing. “I thought it was only me!” She shook her head and when she snorted, she quickly covered her mouth. “Maybe that can be another name for her? Gabrielle Whoops Heartburn Blob. Nobles always have more than one name.”
Settling just a bit, she shook her head, before suddenly her face fell. “I have to pee again.”
Of course.
Like always, as soon as they entered the castle, he went up to his study to check his messages while he heard Grace flush the toilet in the distance.
That itch came back tenfold when Scotland Yard contacted him.
***
It hit too fucking close to home.
A little girl had been kidnapped. Some occult group not unlike the old lady he met months ago, were said to have been kidnapping people in the Highlands for years. Scotland Yard was called when the child taken was the only daughter of Prime Minister hopeful.
The mother was beside herself, of course. Face gaunt with circles under her eyes. Devastated.
The father? The father appeared disinterested. Put out. As if this was all a waste of time. He was normally shit at reading people, but after all he’d been through, and maybe it was just paranoia, something at the back of his head sent out a warning. Could be something, could be nothing; he could be involved, or he could be a righteous prick that didn’t deserve to be a father, less a politician.
And you deserve to be one? a voice asked.
No, he said, but that doesn’t stop me from being one in a few months.
The mother, Wendy, was a frail thing, only a little older than he was, and said they had two older boys. James, Rory, and their little girl, Abigail. If things were different, he’d save the name as a possibility for Grace. He’d always liked that name, come to think about it. His first-grade teacher’s name was Abigial Lewis and she had great, big—
Maybe not Abigail, then.
He brought along a laptop. A compromise so when Grace was back in Germany, safe in Schloss Ritter with Gerde, he would contact her through SIDNEY, and she him.
That first time was quiet. He didn’t dawdle to get a feel of the scene like he usually did. Not even when Prince James’ son was missing did he ever feel this much anxiety. A little girl, only four, her survival depended all on him.
That could be my little girl, was what kept him going.
That night he was in a Cathedral. Everyone was dressed in black. His parents were there, just as he remembered them, staring ahead. Gran and Grandaddy were there, too, and so was Wolfgang beside them. In front of him at the end of the aisle was a closed casket.
Go, someone urged him, and he listened.
His boots were the only thing he would be able to hear as he made his way toward the closed casket. Something told him to open it. Something urged him to, so he listened, but instead of a corpse that rested inside the coffin was a very much alive, with bright eyes and a gummy grin, infant looking up at him.
He knew who she was.
A shy grin broke out on his face, and he stared, just stared at her, flailing her fists and making sounds just because she could. She wore a white dress, the sort people dressed their babies for baptisms, that bunched up when those tiny hands of hers fisted the fabric. “What’cha’ doin’ there, sweetheart?”
He bent down to pick her up, holding her where her chubby cheek was near his stubbled one, swaying from side to side. In this serenity, this sense of peace he hadn’t felt in so long, he had almost forgotten that he shouldn’t be so at ease holding a baby since he hadn’t held many. And yet, it didn’t matter; her tiny hands on his face, those eyes of hers staring at him like he’s the real wonder and not her, or that dimpled, gummy grin that made his heart flutter in his chest were the only thing in the universe he cared about.
“Hey,” he whispered, bouncing her like he had seen Mosely bounce his nieces when they were babies.
If something was too good to be true, it usually was.
The scene shifted. Instead of his arms, the infant lay on her back on slab, and a man in a dark rob was behind her, holding a knife in the air dramatically.
“Don’t you fucking—”
He lowered the knife and Gabriel plunged at the figure, only for Gabriel to jolt himself awake, drenched in sweat.
It was late, he knew that, but he had to know—had to! Grace picked up, voice hoarse with disuse, “this is Grace.”
“Hey, Gracie.”
“Gabe?” Her voice more alert, and by the rustling in the background he could imagine her sitting up in bed, “Are you alright?”
He said nothing. He was still trembling. She gave him a moment, only a moment, before, “What’s wrong?”
“Is Whoops okay?”
They really needed to call her something other than Whoops.
A soft exhale, before, “yes, she’s fine. My ribs and bladder aren’t, though.”
That made him laugh. It was weak, but still a laugh. “Good.” And then, “Are you?”
“Besides my bladder and ribs? I’m fine.” There was a pause, a comfortable pause of two people enjoying each other’s company, even if they were miles away. “Go to bed. You need your rest.”
He didn’t. Couldn’t.
No jokes were had, no flirtations, but an earnest need to find out what was happening. Besides Wendy’s kindness, the emails and calls he received from Grace either about the case or Whoops, he’d discovered allies in the very beings he was sent to investigate. White Witches, at that.
“Not every being you hunt deserves to be hunted, shadow hunter,” one had told him, not unkindly. “Men are different, so are we.”
And humans are usually the worst kinds of monsters alive, Grace had told him once.
Four days of nightmares. Four days of playing cat-and-mouse, toying with his psyche about his looming fatherhood as if it knew, whatever it was, only to find out the Witch they were looking for all along had been the girl’s father. Just like his dream, only besides his own little girl, the brown haired and blue eyed four-year-old lay bound on the stone alter, while her father, clad in a black coat, spoke an incantation—a summoning spell—but before he raised the blade to complete it, Gabriel had knocked him out cold.
He thought turning into a werewolf brought out his aggression; this was much worse. All he had seen was red.
He would’ve killed that man. That portly man who spent the four days on his black cell, checking his pager boredly, and looking down his nose at him whenever he tried to pick his brain in an effort to help. Hell, he’d even broach the comment about being a father himself, even if his own daughter wasn’t yet born, and all he got was a look of boredom.
Sobbing broke him from his trance.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he did his best to soothe the little girl, who still wore her clothes form when she was abducted, and untied her to draw her in his arms. She stank. Her clothes were soiled, too, but he didn’t mind. He picked up the small girl in his arms and began to leave the ruined and abandoned home. “You’re gonna be just fine, alright? Just close your eyes and hang on real tight.”
Wendy, who had been nothing but lovely and helpful, was found dead with her throat slit in her hotel room. Scotland Yard was called, arrests were made, and that little girl who clung to him so tightly when the ambulance rolled up was sent to her grandparents, along with her two older brothers. Nice kids. A hefty age gape since the eldest, James, looked to be around sixteen, while Rory couldn’t have been no more than twelve. After he spoke to Grace on the phone about what happened, all of it, he spent the rest of the time with little Abby.
If he didn’t already have one on the way, well, he would’ve entertained the brief thought of being a father. Regardless of the horrors she saw, she smiled, told jokes, and spoke to him about all the stuffed animals she had at home. In turn, he’d tell her about his bike, his Gran, and the doofus of a friend he had named Mosely. Apparently making fun of his lack of hair was a winner, because it sent her to a giggle frenzy.
“Is mummy alright, Misser Knight?”
He just smiled and said nothing, opting to turn her attention back to her stuffed animals. Not his place to tell her, anyway.
Turned out, little Abby was what the prick needed to ensure he’d become England’s next Prime Minister. A deal with a demon years ago; his firstborn daughter for all the power he could wield.
He should’ve killed him.
He didn’t.
He didn’t leave Abby or her brothers until she was discharged from the hospital. Her grandparents, Wendy’s parents, were just as lovely as their daughter had been. The English were said to be stand-off-ish with affection, but all he received were hugs of gratitude and pats on the back.
“We’ll never be able to repay you,” the grandfather, Phillip, which made his heart skip a beat, told him in earnest.
“Just make sure those kids are fine, and we’ll be square,” he had answered.
When he got back to the hotel, all the bravery he had vanished.
***
Schloss Ritter was subdued. He didn’t really eat, only when his stomach began to churn and ache and his blood sugar would drop low, and he certainly didn’t shower. When he slept, he would dream of nothing but gore.
He saved little Abby.
He didn’t save her mother.
Just like he didn’t save Fredrich, or Malia, or Wolfgang.
“My death isn’t your fault, Gabriel.”
In the corner of his eye, as he sat in the corner with his knees to his chest, he saw the kind face of his great-uncle. The same long, dark overcoat with his hair in a low ponytail.
“I lost a son,” he admitted, walking toward him languidly, before dropping to his knees. Considering it was his head and nothing more, he didn’t wince as he bent down. “A parent should never have to bury their child.”
Why are you telling me this?
He knew why, though.
He lost his parents when he was young. Left a hole in his heart so big that he tried to fill it with faceless conquests. There wasn’t a guarantee that he’d live long enough to see Whoops reach ten, or twenty, or thirty. There wasn’t even a guarantee that Grace wouldn’t come to her senses and leave him as soon as the baby was born, and he’d never get a chance to see if he would. He wouldn’t blame her. His life wasn’t exactly safe. Hell, even before, his life wasn’t exactly ideal, because he wasn’t exactly ideal.
The fear that gripped him, though, that made him crawl to the furthest corner of his study, was the possibility of having to outlive his child.
That...that made it hard to breathe. Hard to think. He thought the prospect of losing his Gran was terrifying, but Whoops? Unthinkable.
“You love her, don’t you?” Wolfgang asked.
“She ain’t even here and it hurts,” he responded.
“You love her mother, too, yes?”
He hitched a breath, his heart stammering, but it was with perfect clarity he answered, “yes.”
Grace wasn’t his first love. Grace wasn’t the love that awoke something inside him that he never knew existed. Grace was the sort of love that one might overlook, mostly because they weren’t ready to see it for what it really was, and for the few that would double back to take a closer look at what they missed, they would find something no words could name. The sort of love that pulled the rug from under you and screamed, got ya! For all the flirting, all the banter, all the tension he never expected Grace. Never expected the conservatively dressed college student who was overqualified for the position that waltzed into St. George’s to apply for a job to be the mother of his child.
And he didn’t love her because of Whoops, either; resting his head against the cool stone of the castle, he thought back—really thought back—to the small moments. It was after Fredrich and Malia, of course, the two living together at Schloss Ritter and going through the motions. How he would always want to talk to her about the first ridiculous thought he had, and this time out of genuine want and not a need to pester her, to just hear her opinions on anything and everything.
It crept up on him and, when it finally clicked that he might feel something, she left.
“She returned,” Wolfgang reminded him, as if he could read his thoughts.
“’Cause I knocked her up,” Gabriel groused petulantly. “Not for me.”
He made a tsking noise, shaking his head disapprovingly, “my boy, for one so smart, you see so little.”
***
It turned out he’d been blind for a bit. He normally hated to be wrong, because he did like to think he had some smarts under his belt, but this time? This time it was fine. More than fine. This time when Grace was in his bed, not a stitch on her body or his, he knew there would be no awkward deflections in the morning.
She loved him.
Not just because of the baby, but because of him.
And he had yet to tell her how he felt. Words were caught in his throat whenever he attempted, so he did his best to show her. Oh, there was still the cheeky banter; sarcasm was his first language and Grace wouldn’t be Grace without her sassing him to kingdom come. And so, with the cheek came back rubs, foot rubs, full body rubs that often led to something else. Oh, he received just as he gave; little conservative Grace may have appeared to be a librarian outside the bedroom, but inside? Well, his memories of that night were a pale imitation, because damn.
Mostly, it was good—damn good—because he loved her, too. Just like it was good with Malia because he loved her.
And if he had a chance with Fredrich? It would’ve been good, too.
He loved them, but they were gone. Grace was beside him, spent, her chest—which, not to be a total neanderthal, but damn did he appreciate what pregnancy did for her chest—heaving up and down just as his was. Both were worn out. Sex this late in pregnancy was tricky, but Grace was a diligent researcher, after all. Sometimes, like tonight, it ended with the two in euphoria and covered with sweat; sometimes it ended in a blunder, but laughter, nonetheless.
“Should take you out on a date,” he murmured, rolling on his side when he finally caught his breath to look at her. She was blissed out, dazed, with a small smile on her face. “Come to think ‘bout it, we never went on a date.”
She snorted, but he went on. “How ‘bout it, Gracie? Once that baby pops out,” she made a face at his choice of words, but he ignored it. “You and me, just the two of us, somewhere real fancy, too.”
“Let me guess, Burger King?”
“Stuff it, Grace.”
“You already did,” Grace parried slyly, turning her head over to face him with a smug grin, parroting what he had said earlier word-for-word. “Unless you’d like to try again? After all, you’re all—what? Thirty-six? You might need more rest for round three.”
Yes, the sass did not die out, but fondness only grew with every retort she’d make.
The night after, when he finally told her of how he felt, and then suggested a proper name for Whoops, their daughter decided to make her way into the world.
***
Rebecca Chiyo Knight. He thought they’d give her Grace’s last name, but she insisted. At first, she thought Rebecca—Bex, which was a lot better than Whoops—would be a Ritter. “I might have Ritter blood,” Gabriel had told her, “But I’m a Knight. If she’s gonna have my name, I want her to be a Knight, not a Ritter.”
He thought he knew love. He thought he had loved Bex when she was still growing in Grace’s stomach. He was dead wrong. Again, this was a time when he wasn’t so put out on being wrong. He only wished his Gran, Grace’s parents, or even Mosely could be there to see the first few days of Bex’s life.
They probably would’ve been there to begin with, if they, both Grace and Gabriel, hadn’t waited so long to tell them. Oh, when they did tell them, weeks before the birth, they both got an earful.
“My dad is going to want to know your intentions with me,” Grace had told him, looking pained. “If he pressures you into popping the question, just pretend all you can hear is white noise. It’s what I do.”
If it were possible, he’d fallen in love with her all over again.
When he had told Mosely he had laughed so hard, so damn hard, before going, “Wait, really? You’re shitting me, Knight. You? A daddy?”
But the love he felt for Bex? Still undefinable. Without limits. Oh, the fear was there; the sort of fear that gripped him by the neck and made it hard to breathe. The worry about his family being doomed to raise orphans after orphans, or even worse, outliving the little girl that seemed to illuminate his shadows with the brightest of lights. To even think of having that light snuffed out was unimaginable.
He wouldn’t be able to go on. How Wolfgang did it, he’d never know, and he hoped to God he’d never find out.
He wasn’t comfortable holding her as he walked up and down Schloss Ritter when Grace needed her rest. She squirmed and he would do his best to keep calm, tell himself he wouldn’t drop her, and did his best to soothe her. He learned earlier he shouldn’t sing if he wanted to keep her calm; that made her cry louder. After a month, though, he somewhat got the hand of it. Late night feedings came in shifts, but he grew to enjoy the times when it was his turn, because it was just him and Bex.
The nursery was finished, but she was too small to go into the crib, so the small cradle at the side of the bed in Grace’s room was where she slept. Not that she approved of sleeping there. She enjoyed it best sleeping on someone’s chest, her head tucked under the chin, drooling as she snored softly.
In the morning they would make their way to New Orleans to visit Gran. Grace’s parents would be there, too, which had Grace’s nerves shot. She needed the rest after wearing a hole in the ground going repeatedly on what not to say to her parents, how to greet them, and please, for the love of God, do not mention that she was Fuji in his story.
Apparently, her mom was a fan of his books.
He’ll never let Grace live that down, much to her annoyance.
And it was that night, where Bex was tucked under his chin, laying on his chest, as he rested on the couch in front of a dying fire in the lounge area, where, for once, no ghosts came to guilt him or give him benediction. The night was quiet, save the soft snores of his daughter, and when the sun rose, illuminating the world with light, he noticed his daughter’s gaze, and how if he squinted, he’d probably see galaxies dancing in those eyes of hers. All babies' eyes were pale at birth, but hers remained, if not slowly changing to another vibrant hue. “She’s gonna have your eyes,” Grace had promised on the drive home from the hospital.
He was going to have the time of his life fighting dragons alongside her. “I think you’re gonna be the best adventure I’ll ever get to have, kiddo,” and Bex smiled up at him, even if it was probably gas, he’d still swear up and down that it was a smile. “What about it? Ready to raise hell?”
As if considering his request, even if it was unlikely because she didn’t even know her own name just yet, she stared at him with those discerning eyes. Maybe his color of eyes, or will be, but her mother’s all the same. When she made her decision, whatever it was, she gave a loud yawn and closed her eyes, a thumb going back in her mouth to soothe into another long rest.
And the world still turned.
#myfic#gk#otp: if i loved you less; i might be able to talk about it more#otp: you said i killed you (haunt me then)#need an otp tag for malia/gabriel#but i really - while this is more gabriel/grace - wanted to honor all of his LI#especially malia#gabriel knight series#the gabriel knight series#gabriel knight#grace nakimura#malia gedde#rebecca knight#mosely#lmao#i stayedd up all night bc hyperfixation Be Like That
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The Norse Pantheon
Male
Balder – God of beauty, peace, innocence and rebirth, son of odin and frigg, husband of nanna, father of forseti
Borr – father of odin, vili and ve, consort of bestia
Bragi – God of poetry, eloquence, music and the harp, son of odin and frigg, husband of idunn
Buri – ruler of prehistory, the first god and father of borr
Dagur – god of the daytime, son of delling and nott
Delling – god of the dawn
Forseti – God of meditation, justice and reconciliation, son of balder and nanna
Freyr – God of fertility, peace, the sun and rain, originally from the Vanir, brother of freyja, son of njord and nerthus, consort of gerd
Heimdall – Guardian of the bridge between worlds, son of odin
Hermodur – son of odin, tried to rescue baldur, messenger of the gods
Hjuki & Bil – brother and sister who follow mani across the sky
Hod – The blind god, god of winter and darkness, brother and twin of balder, son of odin, murderer of balder, killed by vali
Hoenir – God of silence, passion, spirituality and poetry
Kvasir – God of inspiration and wisdom
Loki – God of trickery and mischief, husband of Sigyn, son of farbauti and laufey, later son to odin
Magni – God of strength and bravery, son of thor and jarnsaxe
Mani – God of the moon, pulled the moon across the sky
Meili – son of odin and jord, brother of thor
Mimir – uncle of odinn, decapitated by vanir
Modi – son of thor
Njord – God of the sea, wind, fish and wealth, father of freyja and freyr by nerthus, husband of skadi
Odin – The allfather, god of war, poetry, magic and wisdom, one of the three gods of creation
Thor – God of thunder and battle, protector of mankind, son of odin and jord
Tyr – God of war and justice, god of the skies, son of odin and hymir
Ullr – God of skis and bows, god of winter, son of sif and adopted son of thor, husband of skadi
Vale – son of odin, killer of hod
Vali – God of revenge and vengeance
Vili – Brother to Odin, one of the three gods of creation
Vidarr – god of the forest, revenge and silence, son of odin and grid
Ve – Brother to Odin, one of the three gods of creation
Vidar – son of odin and gridr
Female
Eir – Goddess of healing and medical skill
Eostre – Goddess of spring and the dawn
Elli – Goddess of old age
Freyja – Goddess of love, fertility, battle and witchcraft, daughter of njord and nerthus, wife of od, mother of hnoss and gersimi
Frigg – Goddess of marriage and motherhood, queen of the gods. Wife of Odin, mother of balder and hod
Fulla – frigg’s handmaiden
Gefjun – Goddess of fertility and plough, abundance and prosperity
Gersemi – daughter of freyja and odr, sister of hnoss
Hel – queen of helheim, the norse underworld, daughter of loki and angrboda
Hlin – Goddess of consolation and protection
Hnoss – goddess of lust and desire, daughter of freyja and odr, twin sister of gersemi
Idunn – Keeper of the apples of youth,goddess of spring and rejuvination, consort of bragi
Jord – Goddess of the earth, mother earth, mother of porr by odin
Lofn – goddess of forbidden loves
Nanna – Goddess of joy, peace and the moon, wife of balder and mother of forseti
Nerthus – goddess of fertility and peace, wife of njord, mother of freyr and freyja
Nott – Goddess of the night and darkness, daughter of narvi and mother of aud, jord and dagur by naglfari, annar and delling respectively
Ran – goddess of the sea, wife of aegir
Saga – goddess of wisdom, possibly another name fr frigg
Sif – Goddess of the harvest, grain and earth, wife of thor, mother of thrud and ull
Sigyn – Goddess of fidelity, mercy and mourning, wife of Loki
Sjofn – goddess of love
Skadi – Goddess of winter, mountains and skiing, wife of njord and daughter of thjazi
Snotra – goddess of prudence
Sol – Goddess of the sun and healing, swallowed by skoll
Syn – guard of frigg, considered a goddess of justice
Thruer – daughter of thor and sif, valkyrie, goddess of power, trees, flowers and grass
Var – goddess of contract
Vor – Goddess of wisdom, knowledge and awareness
Yggdrasil – goddess of life, tree of life, connects the nine worlds
Lesser figures
Ægir - Ruler of the sea. Consort: Rán.
Andhrímnir - Cook of the gods.
Aurvandil - A minor character in the Skáldskaparmál with cognates in other Germanic tales.
The norn – guardians of destiny
Urd – goddess of fate, one of the norns
Verdandi – goddess of the present, one of the norns
Skuld – goddess of the future, one of the norns
The valkyries
Brynhildr – armor/bright battle
Eir – peace, clemency, help, mercy
Geirahod – spear
Geiravor – spearvor
Geirdriful – spear finger
Geironul – the one charging forth with the spear
Geirskogul – spear skogul
Goll – noise
Gondul – wand weilder
Gunnr – war, battle
Herfjotur – fetter of the army
Herja – devestate
Hladgudr svanhvit – swan white
Hildr – battle
Hjalmprimul – female warrior
Hlokk – noise battle
Hrist – the quaking one
Hrund – pricker
Kara – the curly one
Mist – cloud, mist
Olrun – alerune
Rangrid – shield destroyer
Radgridr – the bossy
Reginleif – daughter of the gods
Rota – sleet and storm
Sanngridr – very violent
Sigrdrifa – inciter to victory
Sigrun – victory rune
Skalmold – sword time
Skeggold – axe age
Skogul – high towering
Skuld – future
Sveid – vibration, noise
Svipul – changeable
Pogn – silence
Prima – fight
Prudr – strength, power
Jotnar
Aegir – sea
Alfarinn
Alsvartr – all black
Alvaldi – the all powerful one
Ama – big barrel, harass
Amr – dark, auburn
Amgerdr
Andadr
Andudr
Angeyja – contested
Angrboda – the one who brings grief
Angurbjasi
Arinefja
Asvid
Atia – the argumentative
Audnir
Aurboda – gravel offerer
Aurekr
Aurgrimnir
Aurvandil – luminous wanderer
Bakrauf - back hole
Baraxli
Baug - ring
Beinskafi
Beinviðr - bone wood
Belgeygla
Beli - Roarer
Bergelmir- "Mountain Yeller" or "Bear Yeller"
Bestla - Contested
Billingr - twin, hermaphrodite
Bjalki
Björgólfr - shelter wolf
Blætanna
Blapþvari
Blóðughadda - "Bloody-hair"
Bölþorn - "Evil-thorn"
Brandingi
Brusi
Brýja
Brydja
Buppa
Búseyra - "Farm-starver"
Býleistr - storm rouser, storm lightning
Bylgja - "Billow"
Dettiklessa
Dofri
Drauttur
Dröfn - "Comber" or "foaming sea"
Drumba
Dúfa - "Wave"
Dumbr - mute, dumb, murky
Dúrnir - "Door" or "Door-warden"
Eggthér - blade servant, eagle
Elldridr
Eimgeitir - fire goat, smoke goat
Eistla - “the stormy one', 'the glowing one'
Eisurfála - fire troll, ember troll
Eldr - fire, old
Eyrgjafa
Fála - troll woman
Fárbauti - "Cruel Striker"
Fenja fenn - dweller, arrow
Fenrir
Fiskreki
Fjalarr - Hider
Fjölverkr - one who does much work, board worker
Fjölvör
Flangi
Flaska
Flæskjappa
Flauma
Flegda
Fleggr - Thrower, flayer
Flimbra
Flotsocka
Forað - demise, danger
Fornjótr - "Ancient giant" or "Original owner"
Frosti - frost
Frusk
Fyrnir - the old one
Galarr - singer, sorcerer
Galavi
Ganglati - "lazy walker"
Ganglöt - "lazy walker"
Gangr - "Gait"
Geirröðr - spear redder
Geitir - goat
Geitla - goat
Gerðr - "fenced-in"
Gestilja
Geysa - stormer, ousher, inciter
Gillingr
Gjálp - "seeress" or "roaring one"
Glámr - moon, pale gleam
Glæmur
Glaumr - noise, uproar
Glaumarr - noise, uproar
Glossa
Glumra - noise
Glyrna
Gneip - protruding rock
Gnepja - sea, overhanging
Gnissa - sea, grind
Gortanni
Grani
Greip - "Grasp"
Greppa
Gríðr
Gríma - mask, night
Grímnir - mask, night
Grimólfr - masked wolf
Gripandi
Gripnir - grip
Grottintanna - milling teeth
Grubbi
Grýla - witch, monster, fox
Gullkjapta
Guma
Gunnlöð - "Battle-invitation"
Gusir - cold wind, smoke
Gyllir - golden, yelling
Gymir - sea, devourer
Hæra
Hafli - have, grasp
Haki
Hála - smooth, slippery, conceal, large, tall
Haltangi
Harðgreipr - "Hard-grip"
Harðverkr - "Hard worker" Nafnaþulur
Hati Hróðvitnisson - "He Who Hates" or "Enemy"
Hausver
Hefring - "Lifting"
Heidrek
Hel
Helblindi - "Hel-blinder" or "All-blind"
Heiðr
Helreginn - "Ruler over Hel"
Hengikefta - "Hanging jaw"
Hergunnr
Herkir - fire, desolator
Herkja - noise
Himinglæva - "Transparent-on-top"
Hljóð - silence, hearing, yell
Hlói
Hlóra
Hnikar
Hnydja
Hölgabrúðr - Hölgi's wife
Holuskroppa
Hörn
Hracktanni
Hræsvelgr - "Corpse Swallower"
Hrauðnir - destroyer, fur coat
Hrauðungr - boat shack
Hremsa
Hrímgerðr - "Frost-Gerðr", Soot-Gerðr
Hrímgrímnir - "Frost-masked", sooty mask
Hrímnir - "the one covered with hoarfrost" or "the sooty one" Hyndluljóð
Hrímþurs - frost giant, soot giant
Hringvölnir - ring rounder, ring paler
Hripstoðr
Hróarr - famous spear
Hroðr - "Famed"
Hroðingr - unrest, storm, slime, fame
Hrökkvir
Hrönn - "Wave"
Hrossþjófr - "Horse-thief"
Hrotti
Hrúga - pile, heap
Hrungerdr
Hrungnir - "Brawler"
Hryggða - sadness, pain
Hrymr - "Decrepit"
Hundálfr - brave noble wolf
Hundvis
Hvalr - whale
Hveðra - wind, stone
Hveðrungr
Hymir
Hyndla - bitch
Hyrrokkin - "Fire-Smoked"
Iði - "The moveable", "The hard-working one"
Íma - the grey one, battle
Imðr - the grey one, battle
Ímgerðr
Ímr - the dark looking
Irpa - the dark coloured
Íviðja - forest dweller, the evil, enveloper
Járnglumra - iron din
Járnsaxa - "Iron dagger"
Járnviðja - "Ironwoodite"
Jörð - "Earth"
Jötunn - giant, eater
Jormungandr – huge monster
Kaldgrani - cold horse, cold mustache
Kampa
Kári - wind gust, curly
Keila - "A narrow strait of water", rock chasm
Kjallandi
Kjaptlangur
Klumba
Kolfrosti
Kólga - "Cool-wave"
Költr
Köttr - cat
Krabbi
Kráka - crow
Kyrmir - yeller
Laufey
Leiði - good wind, reluctance, journey
Leifi - leave, smear
Leikn - witch
Leirvör
Litr - colour. looks, shape, oar
Ljóta - ugly, terrible
Ljotur
Loðinfingra - hairy finger
Loðinn
Logi - "Fire"
Loki
Margerðr
Menja
Miði - center, fishing ground
Miðjungr - the middle, man
Miðvitnir - "Mead wolf", "Mid wolf" or "Sea wolf"
Mímir
Miskorblindi
Mjǫll - "Powdered Snow"
Móðguðr - "Furious Battler"
Moði
Mögþrasir - "The one who is striving for sons"
Mokkurkalfi - fog calf
Mörn
Mundilfari - ""the one moving according to particular times"
Munnharpa - ’Mouth Harp’, mouth witch, hole harp/witch
Myrkriða - ’Dark Rider’
Naglfari - nail farer
Narfi
Nari - corpse
Nati - spear
Nefja
Nótt - "Night"
Öflugbarða - strong axe
Ǫflugbarði - strong axe
Ófóti - without feet
Óglaðnir - not glad, not gleaming
Önduðr
Opingeil
Ösgrúi
Öskruðr - "Yeller"
Rangbeinn -"Bent bone" or "Bowlegged"
Raun
Rifingöflu - sword strong
Rindr
Rýgi - wooly, wool plucker, roarer
Sækarlsmúli - "Seaman's mouth" or "Seaman's nose"
Salfangr - "Bargain grasper" or "Hall robber"
Sámendill - "Familiar foe"
Saurkver
Sidhauttur
Sigyn - "Victorious girl-friend"
Sinmara
Simul
Sívör
Skaði
Skærir
Skerkir
Skinnbrok
Skitinkjapta
Sköll - "Treachery" or "Mockery"
Skolli
Skotti
Skrati
Skrikja - ’’Screaming’’
Skrucka
Skrýmir
Slammi
Slangi
Slauttur
Slinni
Smortur
Snarinefja
Snær
Snodvis
Sökkmímir
Sómr
Sprettingr
Stalhaus
Starkad
Stigandi
Stórverkr
Stritramur
Stúmi
Sulki
Surtr - "Black" or "The swarthy one"
Suttungr
Svárangr
Svartbrun
Svartr - ’’Black’’
Svásuðr - "Mild-One"
Sveipinfalda
Svelnir
Svivor - "Shame-lips" or "Shame Goddess"
Þistilbarði - "Thistle-beard"
Þjazi
Þökk - "Thanks"
Thorn - thorn, needle
Þorgerðr Hölgabrúðr
Trana
Thrasir - assault, storm
Þrígeitir - three goat
Þrívaldi - "Thrice mighty"
Þrúðgelmir - "Strength Yeller"
Þrymr - "Uproar"
Þurbörð
Tuska
Tyrnir
Ulfrún - "Wolf rune" or "wolf-woman"
Uðr - "Wave"
Útgarða-Loki - "Loki of the Outyards"
Vafþrúðnir - "Mighty Weaver" or "Mighty in riddles"
Vagnhöfði - "Swordfish-Head"
Vandill
Varðrún
Vaulsi
Vásuðr - "Wet and Sleety"
Verr
Víðblindi - "Very blind"
Viddi
Víðgrípr
Vidgymnir
Vígglöð
Vindr - ’’Wind’’
Vindloni
Vindsvalr - "Wind-cool"
Vingnir
Vingrip
Víparr
Vörnir
Ymir - "seething clay"
Ymsi
Ysia
Ysporta
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I was wondering, if it’s not too much trouble, how old were you when you got diagnosed with EDS? Was it obvious or what tipped you off that you might have it? (Asking for me lol)
hiiii! so long story but i was technically diagnosed at 21 by a rheumatologist (which was pure luck), but i had a diagnosis of “ligament laxity” at 13ish.
it wasn’t super obvious at first glance because it was just something i’d dealt with my entire life. i had constant injuries growing up- i was a basketball player and cross country runner and there was never a day i didn’t have an injury. i had party tricks, like subluxing my hips and shoulders on command and stuff like that and i was weirdly flexible, but not my muscles, it was my joints (which is all stuff i realized much much later lol)
when i was 19ish, the symptoms of my autoimmune disease started, so i went to a doctor and they started all the testing.
my autoimmune disease is seronegative- so it doesn’t show up on antibody tests or anything. the only markers in my blood that showed up positive (until recently lol) was high as fuck inflammatory markers (C reactive protein and sedimentation rate). my doctor was incredible, she was primary care at the student health center at my college but she did so much testing before sending me to rheumatology. she immediately thought autoimmune because of my symptoms, the inflammatory markers, and i’m the 4th generation of my family with an autoimmune disease (my dad, my grandpa, my great grandpa, and multiple aunts/uncles of mine). so they did blood tests and X rays and a colonoscopy (my calprotectin was literally 1.3 units into the “abnormal” range so they MADE me do it) until 2020.
the findings weren’t at all conclusive or definitive. i have a hiatal hernia (common with EDS), slow digestion, really bad GERD. my X rays were negative besides by SI joint, which showed a little bit of sclerosis on one joint, but my MRI was negative. then the pandemic reared its ugly ass head and everything kinda stalled because no more doctor’s appointments and i had absolutely no answers for the pain or the inflammatory markers.
at this point, my friend with EDS was like “bestie are you flexible?” and i was like haha fuck no and then she looked at my joints and she was like “..bro they all hyperextend” and then i fell down the rabbit hole and was like oh fuck lol
so i realized a lot of my symptoms aligned with EDS, and i realized a lot of the “weird shifting feelings” in my joints were subluxations and i remembered… so much shit from my childhood. and all the party tricks people in my family can do, and i asked my dad if he ever experienced subluxations and he has and says “yeah that’s like normal though i just work through it” and i’m like ???? bro WHAT that’s not normal!!!
i almost like,, “gaslit” myself and kept saying “no i don’t have that i’m just dramatic” but i meet criteria and it’s pretty obvious now that i know more about it lol
so i moved permanently to my college town so i got a new rheum and he told me i have EDS visit #1, put it in my file visit #2, and i got a referral to an amazing physical therapist who does amazing work with hypermobility and pain neuroscience education.
unfortunately, no one found the reason for my raised inflammatory marker until the end of 2021, when my rheum left the practice and i saw another rheum.
by that point, i’d had an undetected and unmedicated autoimmune disease wreaking havoc on my poor SI joint and that shit sucked lol
then i went to a geneticist SIMPLY because i wanted to fucking get a connective tissue disorder genetic testing and she said “you have an autoimmune disease so you don’t meet criteria” and didn’t run a single genetic test even though i had tons of symptoms and the autoimmune disease was the only thing that “disqualified” me. even though autoimmune diseases literally are comorbid with EDS sooo often. i hate geneticists.
i did the connective tissue disorder genetic panel with invitae to make sure i didn’t have one of the types that have a genetic marker, and i didn’t have any of those genes, but i do have a mutation on a collagen gene which is a mutation “of uncertain clinical significance”
loooong story but yeah lol feel free to ask more questions if you have any!!
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100 year old film
Bell Boy 13 Jan 19, 1923
Bell Boy 13 is a 1923 American silent comedy film directed by William A. Seiter, and starring Douglas MacLean, John Steppling, Margaret Loomis, William Courtright, Emily Gerdes, and Eugene Burr. The film was released by First National Pictures on January 19, 1923.
Douglas MacLean was an American stage and silent film actor who later worked as a producer and screenwriter in the sound era . Born in Philadelphia, MacLean was educated at Northwestern University and Lewis Institute of Technology in Chicago. He went on to appear with Dorothy Gish in The Hun Within, and he co-starred with Doris May in the romantic comedy 23 1/2 Hours' Leave, which was a big hit.
From 1922 to 1929 he starred in 14 other features for Paramount and First National, all maintaining the standard light romantic comedy formula that proved successful for him.
MacLean was a popular actor of his time. His films were well-received by audiences and critics alike. Bell Boy 13 was one of his most successful films. It was praised for its humor. MacLean's performance as Harry Elrod was also highly appreciated by the audience.
The film follows the story of college graduate Harry Elrod (MacLean) who wishes to marry actress Kitty Clyde (Loomis), but his Uncle Ellrey Elrod (Steppling) has picked out Angela Fish (Gerdes) as a wife for his nephew. Harry arranges an elopement with Kitty. His uncle's suspicions are aroused and he trails Harry continuously. Harry receives a telegram from his uncle, disowning him. Broke, Harry takes a job as a hotel bell boy.
Although almost completely forgotten today, Douglas MacLean was a talented actor who made significant contributions to the film industry. Bell Boy 13 is a testament to his acting prowess and remains a classic silent comedy film to this day.
Douglas MacLean - Wikipedia
Bell Boy 13 - Wikipedia.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bell_Boy_13.
Bell Boy 13 (Short 1923) - IMDb.
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0013866/.
#silent comedy#silent film#silent cinema#silent era#Douglas McLean#Bell Boy 13#100 years ago#100 years old#silent movies
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AU where Gerd and Jerlind didn't leave home and Gerd was that cool uncle.
#my art#sketch#digital painting#painting#digital art#artists on tumblr#my ocs#au glee rpg#we use only the best dtg printers available to produce the finest quality images possible that won’t wash out of the shirts.#lol wtf
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Common Digestive Disorders in Kids
Celiac Disease
What it's Celiac complaint is an dogmatism to gluten, a protein set up in wheat, rye and barley. When people with celiac complaint eat gluten- containing foods, their vulnerable system attacks and damages the filling of the small intestine.
Number of children affected roughly 1 in 133 Americans has celiac complaint. Children whose parents, siblings, aunts or uncles have celiac complaint are most likely to have the condition.
seditious Bowel Disease( IBD)
What it's seditious bowel complaint is an inflammation of the digestive tract. Ulcerative colitis and Crohn’s complaint are both types of seditious bowel complaint. Symptoms include diarrhea, blood in the droppings, and abdominal pain.
Number of children affected further than1.6 million Americans have IBD. About 10 of those diagnosed are under the age of 18.
Gastroesophageal Influx Disease( GERD)
What it's It’s impeccably normal for babies to spear up numerous times per day in the first many months of life. But if your baby is also perverse and has difficulty eating, your child might have GERD, a condition in which stomach acid backs up and irritates the esophagus, the tube leading from the mouth to the stomach.
Number of children affected Two- thirds of four- month-old babies have symptoms of GERD. By age one, about 10 of babies have GERD.
Lactose Intolerance
What it's Lactose is a naturally being sugar in milk. People who are lactose-intolerant lack the enzyme demanded to break down this sugar, so they ca n’t digest it. Symptoms include diarrhea, stomach cramps, and gas or bloating after eating dairy products.
Number of children affected It’s delicate to say. nearly all mortal babies can digest lactose at birth. By age 20, about 30 million Americans have some degree of lactose dogmatism.
Shens Clinic is the best speciality hospital for paediatric doctor in Chennai. For any Queries Contact us: +91-9750269815 Visit us: https://shens.in/
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#Three Things You Can Do With a Typewriter#helpful hints#advice#life hacks#tips#tricks#thomas edison#Uncle Gerd#Aunt Francine
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Norse Deities
Baldur - God of beauty, innocence, peace, and rebirth. Consort: Nanna.Dead, Killed by Loki, who tricked his blind brother Hodr into killing him with a spear of mistletoe.
Borr - Father of Odinn, Vili and Ve. Consort: Bestla
Bragi - God of poetry, music and the harp. Consort: Idunn
Buri - Ruler of Prehistory, the first god and father of Borr
Dagur - God of the daytime, son of Delling and Nott
Delling - God of the dawn.
Eir - Goddess of healing.
Eostre - Goddess of spring.
Elli - Goddess of old age.
Forseti - God of justice, peace and truth. Son of Baldr and Nanna.
Freyja- Goddess of love, fertility, and battle. Consort: Odur
Freyr- God of fertility. Consort: Gerd
Frigg- Goddess of marriage and motherhood. Consort: Odinn. Can also be pronounced "Frigga".
Fulla– Frigg’s handmaid.
Gefjun- Goddess of fertility and plough.
Hel- Queen of Helheim, the Norse underworld. Daughter of Loki
Heimdallur- One of the Æsir and guardian of Asgard, their realm.
Hermóður-The heroic son of Odin. Tried to rescue Baldur.
Hlín- Goddess of consolation and protection.
Höðr- God of winter. Killed by Vali.
Hœnir- The silent god.
Iðunn- Goddess of youth. Consort: Bragi
Jörð- Goddess of the Earth. Mother of Porr by Odinn
Kvasir- God of inspiration. Killed by Dwarves.
Lofn- Goddess of forbidden loves.
Loki- Trickster and god of mischief . Consort: Sigyn(also called Saeter).
Magni- god of strength. Son of Thor.
Máni- God of Moon.
Mímir- Óðinn´s uncle. Decapitated by Vanir.
Nanna- Goddess of joy and peace, an Asynja,married with Baldr and mother to Forseti. Died because of Baldur's death.
Nerþus- A goddess mentioned by Tacitus . Her name is connected to that of Njordr
Njörður- God of sea, wind, fish, and wealth. Killed in Ragnarok.
Nótt- Goddess of night, daughter of Narvi and mother of Aud, Jord and Dagur by Naglfari, Annar and Delling, respectively.
Óðinn- The "All Father" God of war, associated to wisdom, poetry, and magic (The Ruler of the gods).
Sága- Goddess of wisdom. Possibly another name for Frigg.
Rán- Goddess of the sea. Wife of Ægir.
Sif- Goddess of harvest.Wife of Thor
Sigyn- Goddess of fidelity. Wife of Loki.
Sjöfn- Goddess of love.
Skaði- Goddess of winter; Njörðr's wife.
Snotra- Goddess of prudence.
Sol (Sunna) - Goddess of Sun. Swallowed by Skoll.
Thor- son of Óðinn. God of thunder and battle. Consort: Sif
Thruer- daughter of Thor and Sif.
Týr- God of war. Also the god of the skies.
Ullr- God of ski/winter, hunt, and duel. Son of Sif
Váli- God of revenge.
Vár- Goddess of contract.
Vé- One of the three gods of creation. Brother of Odinn and Vili
Víðarr- God of the forest, revenge and silence.
Vör- Goddess of wisdom.
Yggdrasil- Goddess of life. Tree of life. Connects the 9 worlds.
Lesser figures
Ægir- uler of the sea. Consort: Ran
Andhrímnir- Cook of the gods.
Aurvandil- A minor character in the skaldskaparmal with cognates in other Germanic tales.
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- ̗̀ Welcome to Min Yoongi's Coffee ˎˊ-
Basic Info~
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Former URL: Lil Fluffy Yoongles
Name~ Maddie
Age~ 16
Gender & Pronouns~ Female; she/her
MBTI & Ennegram~ INTJ; 5w6
Religion~ c h r i s t i a n i t y
BTS Bias~ Yoongi
Biaswrecker(s)~ the other 6 members lmao
Timezone~ Eastern Standard Time
Sideblogs: @little-siskin-feathers
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Other Contacts~
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Discord~ maddie#3394
Snapchat~ maysay139
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Q&A
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What do you usually post?
- I usually reblog a bunch of posts that I like, but sometimes I post stuff myself. Here you'll find a bunch of yoongi posts with the other members too, and occasionally mbti-related stuff.
When do you usually post?
- I do not have a set "active schedule". Like, at all. It's so sporadic lol So I might wake up at ungodly hours of the night and start reblogging literally everything on tumblr and/or start sleepily thirsting over yoongi's hands and forget what I posted the next morning- i have already done this before so don't be surprised if i do it again lmao
Are your DMs open?
- No. After a certain incident, I've decided to switch the settings so only people I follow can DM me. I might open them again completely again at some point; I'll think about it.
Are your asks open?
- YES! Please go ahead and ask me anything you want. Or you can start unhealthily obsessing over the members and I will respond with the same fangirling energy as you lmao You can say anything; I really love getting asks! i don't know what to do when i get compliments or when someone is just being nice but please compliment me lmao
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Random Stuff You Probably Don't Care About~
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- i've been told many times that im a cold and highly quiet person but i swear im not like that :')
- my grandpa's sister was married to a member of the mafia (he died tho lol),,, according to my dad, his name is nick and he was a very cold and intimidating man. when my brother was like "wait your uncle was in the mafia??" my dad said, "nick WAS the mafia"
- there was this one time i unintentionally murdered probably over 200 honey bees (ask me if you want to know the full story)
- my mom was friends (and still sorta is friends..??) with jordan liberty and went to school with him
-when i was in 2nd grade i was attacked by a huge mob of ants and im low-key scared of ants because of it lmao (ask me if you want to know the full story)
- i've had ibs and gerd since the beginning of time so i hope i can find some people to relate to lmfao
- im directly related to zelda sayre (fitzgerald) and my dad says i look and act almost exactly like she did
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oka okay in your story from gabriel's POV gerde is there, kinda, but in the temptation he makes it seem like she peaced out?
I read Temptation as very much that Gabriel is at his lowest. At the end, he makes the decision to continue on regardless, but as someone who is at the age he is portrayed, who knows what it feels like to feel stagnant when the world turns? Or how sometimes your own head gets the better of you? Yeah. He thinks she's left him to have her own life.
And she does, but unbeknownst to him, just because she isn't an active caretaker or is there 24/7, doesn't mean she left him completely. At least, that is how I translated it, because again, a lot of that comic is from a Gabriel who could use hugs but all he's given - for things out of his control and the consequences of his own actions - is strugs.
I did originally write a segment where Gabriel is petulant and is like, "so you talk to Grace but not me?" and she just replies with, "I've called you, you idiot, but you don't pick up your phone."
tl;dr : Gabriel be like, "wow even my great uncle's ex is leaving forever :(" and Gerde be like, "jfc I'm still here if you need me I just want my own life," and Gabriel is like, "Sometimes I can still hear her voice yelling at me not to drag dirt into the castle -"
#answered#ofc just bc he ends on a slightly happier note in whoops does not mean his issues are gone with fatherhood#they will pile up more and more and more and with von glower's ghost THIS time around#i really wanted it to drive home that someone who is LIKE him telling him that he can't do that anymore
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So I have this headcanon that the bear witchers kind of watch over/protect the Tuirseach clan since Gerd gave his life to try to save his own beloved Jarl. Can you imagine old grouchy Arnaghad being a Grandpa figure to a young King Bran and little Eist? Junod & Ivo being the fun uncles who sometimes give poor Mousesack a break from Royal babysitting duty? The Tuirseach’s sigil is a Bear after all. I love the idea that Arnaghad and his boys are close to Skellige’s crown ❤️
YESS I LOVE THAT!! Also in Skellige, they seem to respect witchers a lot more than the Continent in general, so I think it's a good headcanon!!
In the Witcher 3, there was a ceremony/feast that the An Craites threw, and I just imagine the Royal family inviting the Bear Witchers to feasts and stuff, and they can really party and have fun!! (They would really kill in those scuffles and fighting matches lol) They would be great teachers to a little Eist and young King Bran awww, just the image of kids climbing all over those giant strong witchers is so cute!
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Bee’s Masterpost
Last updated: 18/06/2022
Writing Nonsense (Find me on AO3 as Megeara)
carry on, try to bear the agony [AO3] - Keldar &/ Ivar ficlet
sightless but steady [AO3] - Warritt & Letho feels, with lil’ Auckes
the kids rage (they hurt) [AO3] - young Erland & Arnaghad fic
needle and the thread (ain’t gonna wind up dead) [AO3] - pre-geraskier tattoo au
bear with me here [AO3] - Ryfar/Erim short
comfort in metal and copper [AO3] - Serrit/Jerome h/c
you could be the morning snow [AO3] - Ivar/Gerd zombie AU
turn the hourglass [AO3] - Encanto, Camilo-centric, timetravel fix-it
> Chaptered fic: 5/? (updated: 22/03)
Erland & Gezras ficlet
(new) inked lion [AO3] - Judgment, Higashi character analysis
“Overlooked Witchers” slide series
Bear edition
Cat and the Lone Wolf edition
Griffin edition
Viper edition
In the works: Tournament Trio (Rennes, Guxart, Treyse); Dragonfly, Kiyan; Merten; Jerome Moreau; George of Kagen; Stefan the Crane
Other Lore Bits
Witcher sources and where to find them
Brehen back and forth w/ cocomoke
Way of the Witcher - gwent expansion lore bits
Flower lore - Dandelion, Jaskier, Ranunculus
The Man from Uncle - smol meta
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Last Seen Blogs
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