LollyGag

Hello all! Happy winter holidays. ❤️ It seems the two fanfics I entered into the Amby’s have qualified for the 3rd round. Happy days. 

Hey, I went through your work and you seem to be a amazing writer. I was wondering whether you would like to be interviewed by a community I'm in? It will help the fellow writers in getting the guidance they need!

Hello, lovely. Just came to check in. Hope things are well and that you're alright!

@MissLollyGag 
          Hey there! I came on to try re-reading The Unholy Trickster, and after skimming I saw you took it down to edit it in March of this year. I was curious if a republish was coming on this one? 
          Also, I hope you're doing well!!! :)

Chapter 42 brings the end to Loki and Isla’s story. I hope you’ve enjoyed the story as much as I have. 
          
          Than you to all who read along, voted and commented. I appreciate you all, truly.  
          
          In this last chapter, the birthday celebrations continue. I wonder what Atlas wished for?
          
          Isla:
          
          The door swings open, and as everyone gasps at the sight of a magnificent three-tier birthday cake, I arrange my face into what I hope resembles joy. Inside, the familiar darkness creeps in, the burden of missing these precious moments, of being present but unable to fully experience it.
          
          Curse the gods who took my eyes. 
          
          "It's amazing!" Atlas squeals. "Good job, Mother."
          
          A genuine smile breaks across my face as Atlas's little arms fold around me, pressing his face into my body. My fingers run through his soft hair, his scent carrying upwards. 
          
          "Your father helped... a little."
          
          His small arms release me, his footsteps pattering to Loki. "Thank you, Father."
          
          Ny heart swells. My boy is polite, the sweetest child, and I'm so proud to call him mine. But the pride is tinged with sorrow. I can hear his politeness, his sweetness, yet I cannot see the adorable expressions he makes. 
          
          "Right, shall we sing?" Loki claps his hands together. "On the count of three... one, two—"
          
          Thor jumps in too early, and before Loki can express his annoyance, I start singing as well. Soon, every voice joins in, the melody echoing through the open doors so beautifully that even the palace staff can't resist joining, making this moment extra special for Atlas.
          
          I can just imagine his face, beaming, radiant, his brown eyes shining with pure happiness. But when I try to piece together his seven year old face, it keeps reverting back to the baby I left behind, the small, crying little blueberry who wouldn't let go of my finger. Seven years. Seven years of birthdays, of growth, of precious moments.... lost.
          

I’m finally reading Ruby Dixons, Bull moon rising. I’ve had the beautiful pink, special hardback edition since launch day, but it’s been carefully stored away. Went to the beach today and left the kindle behind on purpose, so I’d be forced to read the book, and not be distracted by other stories on my tbr. 
          
          Ended up getting burnt in the sun, because I got totally lost in the pages. Why did I not read this sooner? Halfway through, and loving it so far. 
          
          Anyone else a Ruby Dixon fan? I love all her ice planet barbarian books. 

One more Chapter to go, and Loki and Isla’s story will be marked complete. 
          
          I will be taking a break from writing on Wattpad to work on my other half complete novel. But I will be on here to read any updated chapters from my the current stories I’m reading. 
          
          

Chapter 41
          
          Baking a cake is a challenge. Just ask Loki and Isla…
          
          Isla:
          
          I've never baked a cake before, and admittedly, it would be considerably easier had the gods not left me with empty spaces where eyes should be. 
          
          Still, I need to do this. It's Atlas's seventh birthday, and I want his cake made by me. I want him to take that first bite and know his mother made it, even if it's too sweet, too burnt, or too anything. It's not just the cake I want to give him, it's the memory.
          
          I thought having Loki as my helper would make this easier. That was my first mistake.
          
          "Loki, are you absolutely certain this is sugar and not salt?"
          
          There's a pause, and that's already a bad sign.
          
          "Well... it's white," he says thoughtfully. "And granular."
          
          "Not helpful," I mutter, reaching out and feeling for the bowl. "Did you read the label?"
          
          "What label? Hilda, never labels anything."
          
          "Then did you taste it?"
          
          Another pause. Then the unmistakable sound of aggressive spitting.
          
          "Definitely salt. Very... salty salt."
          
          Resisting the urge to scream into the nearest bag of flour, I slump onto the counter, my elbows landing in something tacky, despite no syrup being involved. 
          
          Grimacing, I slowly peel my arm free with a revolting squelch. A second later, I hear the unmistakable crunch of eggshells beneath my boot, confirming that Loki, in all his chaotic glory, has missed the waste bin entirely. At this point, I'm pretty sure he's missing it on purpose as a form of culinary rebellion.
          
          "Loki."
          
          "Yes, my beautiful wife?"
          
          "You're just as blind as I am in this kitchen. Possibly blinder."

I estimate one or two chapter left until my current Loki fanfic is done. 

Chapter 40-
          
          Sessah finally returns to find Isla is home. 
          
          Isla:
          
          Two excited heartbeats catch my attention, and I smirk, following their rhythm easily, confident I'm only moments away from catching them. But then I hear it—footsteps, two sets, scurrying away from their hiding spot like guilty thieves.
          
          "No cheating!" I call after them, laughter in my voice.
          
          Their only reply is giggles. Mischievous, triumphant, rule-breaking giggles. I tune in again, narrowing my focus, searching for those familiar beats, but something crashes into my senses instead.
          
          A third pulse.
          
          Faster. Frenzied. So loud it drowns out everything else. It pounds like it's seconds from a fatal heart attack.
          
          "Isla?"
          
          The voice stops me still.
          
          "Is it really you?"
          
          I know that voice, and it's been too long since I heard it. 
          
          "Sessah?" I spin around. 
          
          Heavy footsteps crash through the snow, and suddenly I'm airborne, caught in arms that shake with emotion as he twirls me around.
          
          "I saw the skies clear," he chokes out. "I came as fast as I could. I prayed it meant you were home!"
          
          "Sessie, I'm getting dizzy," I laugh, clutching his shoulders.