Ale: Happy Birthday O. I got you a knife

Olala: YES!

Caroline AKA the only braincell of the group: Yes that seem like perfect gift for a 7 year old

Quanii: Caroline sweaty I know it seems normal to you but no. Take it away from her now

Them Having A Fallen Angel! S/O

Type of Writing: Random Idea Name: Them Having A Fallen Angel! S/O Characters: Lucifer Morningstar, Alastor, and Zestial Idea-Giver: Random Thoughts

A/N: I changed Vaggie to Alastor because all my brain's thoughts were going to was him while my thoughts of Vaggie having a Fallen Angel for an S/O kinda struck a blank, sorry for those wanting Vaggie, but I do know you Alastor fans are happy, huh? I also got no ideas for Angel Dust, I feel like crying right now... I want to write for him so badly!!! T-T

⚠️ Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Blood, and Mentions of Death ⚠️ Spoilers for: S1 ⚠️

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Fallen Angel! Reader ; Protected the Hotel and killed multiple Exorcists

🦆 Lucifer and you have gone way back even before he ever met Lilith and the creation of the human-race

🦆 You were the angel that represented the purity that all Adam, Lilith, and Eve used to have long before it all went downhill

🦆 You also were one of the only angels to even look at Lucifer during his trial, though you couldn't fully defend him due to being held back, he could tell just how much you wanted to jump down and shield him and Lilith from the cold gazes of his family

🦆 This action eventually came to fruition when you had flown through the portal and began to defend each member of the Hotel by using the sword of a fallen Exorcist

🦆 Lucifer was busy handling Adam when he saw you come down and throw a sword, slicing an Exorcist's head open, alarming the sinners around you, and he could swear he could hear Vox yelling swears from miles away

🦆 He watched as you jumped down and covered the members in your wings, providing them with a shield as the golden blood coated your form

🦆 And he'd be lying if he said it wasn't attractive, you protecting these strangers as if they were your own young

🦆 Though, Lucifer was kinda sad that you were stripped of your position in Heaven due to the death of Adam. The guy was a prick, and you were losing your role to him just because a small demon girl had a hint of a psycho spree?!

🦆 When you were finally announced as fallen, Lucifer and the Hotel welcomed you with open arms, and he loved watching you lift Niffty up and give her small roaches to tear apart. He also loved watching you grab Charlie and hug her like a mother would

🦆 You offered so much support for the members of the Hotel after the Extermination that it was enough to make his heart swoon far faster than it ever did for Lilith

🦆 While Lucifer did feel bad because he was still married to his estranged wife, he couldn't help what he was feeling. After all, who wouldn't fall for someone so amazing and caring like you?

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Fallen Angel! Reader ; Defied Heaven and nearly killed Lute

🔘 When Charlie and Vaggie came back with the message that there was not only one, but two angels, that seemingly were willing to defy Heaven for the Princess' dream, Alastor had to admit, he was slightly surprised

🔘 Gripping his cane tightly, he wondered who these angels were and if they were going to cause any possible issue. It wouldn't be to weird if they were just poking someone in to ruin the Hotel, now would it?

🔘 But, during the battle against the Exorcists, he watched as Adam was kicked down to the ground from behind after he knocked down the Radio Demon's shield

🔘 He watched as an angel wearing a long cloak flew down and began to mercilessly slaughter Exorcist after Exorcist with little to no effort

🔘 He also watched as you lifted Niffty up and handed her a knife before throwing her at another Exorcist, and laughing slightly as they died

🔘 You really were such a twisted little angel, weren't you?

🔘 Alastor eyed you lightly as he fought with Adam, dodging his attacks before going nearly full-demon mode to kill him; he didn't promise for nothing, now did he?

" What the hell are you looking at, you smiling-freak?! " " Oh nothing... just the little angel down there going against their own kind, is all~ " " WHAT?! Y-Y/N? What in the name of Heaven are you doing, you stupid bitch! "

🔘 So Y/N was your name, huh? He'll need to remember that...

🔘 While he eventually had to flea due to his injuries, he could hear the loud cries of pain coming from a certain female Exorcist, and he chuckled, how ironic... for someone who pledged about their strength through such cruel and dirty words, she really was pathetic when pinned, yeah?

🔘 There was only two things he thought of as the Hotel was being re-made and he healed; How could he get out of this deal? and Why did you throw your life away for some random sinners?

🔘 He's definitely going to ask you about the latter once he came back

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Fallen Angel! Reader ; Fell with Lucifer and Lilith

🕷️ Ever since he was young and alive, Zestial has heard many different stories of the fallen duo; Lucifer, the King of Hell, and Y/N, the adviser of Sin

🕷️ You were hailed as the creator of the Sins, since each tally you had before becoming fallen was because of those actions

🕷️ Now, as the oldest Overlord in Hell, Zestial is very much acquainted to many members of Nobility in the twisted land of death, but he has always wanted to meet a fallen angel, specifically you

🕷️ So, when Carmilla came to the latest meeting with her daughters as a special guest beside her, he recognized you, as your very large and long horns that faded with blue flames at the tips reminded him of your descriptions in books he'd read

" Well how int'resting, a fallen angel, hm? What a unique findeth, lief Carmilla " " I have not heard someone speak in that way for a long time. " " Not many has't, mine own lief. So, what doth we all oweth the blessing to seeth such a wond'rful being of sineth? "

🕷️ You smiled and began to speak with the same 'Shakespearean'-undertone in your words like Zestial, making him smile lightly at your words of purity, it was obvious you still had the personality of an angel inside

🕷️ Ever since that fateful day, you had begun to attend Overlord meeting after Overlord meeting, so much so that Velvette was commenting how much you seemingly fit in the group

🕷️ She also began to try offending you, only for you to smile and allow the small flames on your horns to burst into tiny fits of fires close to a forest's

🕷️ Zestial was not happy despite his smile. Nobody was going to offend you, though he'd have to admit, watching you sit there and quip back just as viciously with such an angelic smile made his dead heart skip a dead-beat

" Wow, for a fallen angel and the adviser of Sin, you really seem to like hanging around with us sinners, yeah? How disliked are you by your own children, Y/N? " " Oh Velvette, I have a question; do you hate me? " " Isn't it obvious, you bright-faced shit? " " Ah! Well, go ahead and grab a chair and wait for me to care. I hope you'll enjoy the rest of your afterlife sitting in here. "

🔪❄️

[ask meme]

Already answered Knife.

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

I know I've said this before, but I really would like someone who has actual experience being a parent and/or having a notably messy relationship with at least one parent to write a fic about Curufin returning to life in Fourth Age Aman and trying to reconcile with Celebrimbor, and then - before he's actually done doing that - Fëanor returns as well so Curufin also has to sort out how he feels and is reacting to that.

I'd like it to be written by someone with more real-life experience in this sort of emotional tangle than I have, because I just...don't have many strong opinions about parenting. Which this story would very much be about, though not exclusively. However, it WOULD need to follow exactly my headcanons for characterization, worldbuilding, and generally the moral dynamics of the cosmology, because god knows that will also come up.

Key characters and other components include:

Curufin has, over the millennia of being dead, resignedly come around to the "less evil would have been done in the breaking of it" position on the Oath. However, he's still very proud and fucking hates apologizing to anyone. He'll do it but he hates it.

He hates it much less when it's apologizing to Celebrimbor, almost not at all. Celebrimbor, however, is very reluctant to believe his father repents of anything except getting caught.

Yantalmandë, Celebrimbor's Vanyarin wife, who is ready to support him either by kicking any unwanted family firmly out the door or by sympathetically talking him through forgiving them, for his own sake if not theirs - whichever the situation requires. One of the most notable heretics in Aman for her theory that morality and ethics can and should exist entirely independently from the dictates of Eru and the Valar but rather be derived from the nature and experience of Arda. She's mildly embarrassed whenever people bring up her philosophical infamy.

(This is, in fact, somewhat the moral of the story: that when you make a living thing, you may raise and guide and advise them, but you fundamentally lose the right to dictate their choices. Children should be independent from their parents and both should be proud of this.)

Curufinwen, their daughter, at least 1,000 years old but vibes as mid-20s, who in family tradition holds her father to be probably the greatest and definitely her favorite person in the world, and who is distinctly more correct in this than the last 3 people in her eponymous lineage. Skeptical of her newly reincarnated family, but willing to give them a chance. Also, superb metallurgist/chemist/explosives expert.

Maltrinbor, Curufin's wife and Celebrimbor's mother, about as willing to forgive Curufin as Celebrimbor is but at a different angle. I still haven't decided whether I want her to be Noldorin (and died in the stormy sea-crossing, or in Dagor Bragollach after the slow eroding of her marriage?) or Teleri (and died at Alqualondë while trying to find her idiot husband and clearly-not-safe child, after walking away from them a decade ago?). Either way, she's a preeminent artist in glass and has been living near her parents near Aulë's mountain, focusing on craft all these millennia since her return, happy to be a mother but avoiding like spiders any royal politics (which Celebrimbor can never quite do.) SO disappointed in Curufin, for not being...better. In literally any way tbh. But especially for never stepping far enough out of his father's shadow to live up to his own potential.

Finrod in the role of frustratingly wise advice-giver, not least in the area of parenting because he's now had 7 children, and, when Curufin cracks and asks him for help, earnest confidant and supporter in this reconciliation. While also playing an extended game which he calls "social rehabilitation" and Curufin and Celegorm both call "publicly humiliating psychological torment." On top of everything else Curufin has to be grateful and/or apologetic to Finrod about, when Celebrimbor returned from Mandos, Finrod immediately took him under his wing and helped him fully recover from his trauma and comfortably re-settle into Valinorian society.

Veryawendë, Finrod's 4th daughter and Celebrimbor's best friend, artistic collaborator, and ally within the family. A superb jewel-smith and -sculptor who actually studied with Nerdanel in order to master form and sense of movement and life. Very ready to bodily kick unwanted parents or uncles out the door on his behalf.

Celegorm, Curufin's usual/former closest confidant, who is very sympathetic to Curufin's plight and of course he also wants to reconcile with his beloved nephew, but he's kind of focussed on reconciling with an entire Vala of the Hunt first so could you maybe stop ranting and help him, Curvo?

Nerdanel absolutely is involved in this, but I think she's trying - maybe by wrestling with herself - to stay out of it, and oblige her children and theirs to solve their own problems which they made.

And of course Fëanor, who comes out of Mandos regretting a great deal...but who is still too prideful to let himself be much diminished by this guilt, and so with all his vigor sets about trying to Fix What He Broke, which sometimes means the world's most undeniable earnest repentant apologies and sometimes means unthinkingly steamrolling everyone and everything in his path.

(Fëanor who never wanted his children to be consumed by his own fire - his own will, his own grief and rages - like kindling for the flame, but who probably didn't always communicate that in word or deed even before the Oath. Fëanor who, accustomed to Bonding Through Craft, tries to connect with his grandson by offering to teach him some techniques which have clearly been lost, and instead only sets off Celebrimbor's latent Annatar-related alarm bells. Fëanor who is overall struggling with many of the same things that Curufin is, and in most ways he's ahead [typical, natural, bitterly surprising] but in some ways he's behind [mind-boggling, earth-shaking, weirdly satisfying in an uncomfortably vengeful way.])

(Vs Curufin who is so angry at and so so so disappointed and betrayed by his father but who has never consciously, and rarely unconsciously, experienced those feelings in that direction before [while alive to remember it] and doesn't really know how to do so, much less how to express it [the answer is 'sobbing while shouting', at least at first]. He's pretty accustomed to feeling them toward himself, though, except he's also very accustomed to ignoring that and/or blaming other people for it and feeling like a victim instead. He never felt it toward his son, not truly; it was just easier for a few years toward the end to include Celebrimbor in the list of people he blamed - but only in his very darkest moments, and it always set off a vicious circle of feeling even worse.)

Oh yeah Finwë definitely needs to be involved in this whole tangle of generations of fatherhood as well. But I have no idea how he fits in, just that he's among the people who all need to be put into a giant hamster ball together and gently shaken until they're all a little healed.

Btw corrollary to the above "you have to be okay with your children doing things you neither plan nor approve of" is "you have to be okay with things you make being viewed and used in ways you neither planned nor approved of." It's not always your right (@Fëanor) and it's not always your responsibility (@Celebrimbor - he's mostly learned the lesson but it still hurts. The recent end of the Third Age brought back how it hurts).

Additional Supporting Cast:

Maedhros: running around playing catch-up on the 3D chess game of Noldorin and Eldarin politics and public perception. (Note: I'm ambivalent as to whether this fic has to take place in a Celechwes-inclusive timeline, but if it is, she gets pregnant shortly before Fëanor's return and that's very thematically relevant.)

Maglor: hasn't entirely recovered from 6,000 years of self-induced Song-filled isolation, has apparently sworn some sort of fealty to Earendil?? No help.

Caranthir: busy trailing after his wife like a repentant puppy until she decided to let him back into her heart. No help.

Ambarussa: one of them, probably Amrod, took up weaving while drifting between Mandos's Halls and Vairë's, and is continuing that apprenticeship while alive again, so they're spending a lot of time with the grandparents.

Mahtan, who is quite near the top of the list of people whom Curufin doesn't want to look in the eye.

The Silmaril which is right over there on the far edge of the continent, he can feel it sometimes...and that's okay. It's where it neds to be, it's in the care of a (distant) (barely counts) kinsman, and more important Maglor is keeping some sort of eye on it. So it's fine. There's nothing he can practically do anyway, not without restarting a war; and that's not an option anymore than charging Angband was.

Huan, best boy. Has also been looking after Celebrimbor since he returned to life, because he's the best uncle in this family.

A wide assortment of OCs, including people who died in Himlad, people who followed Curufin to Doriath and died there, people who followed him to Doriath and survived beyond that, people who stayed with Celebrimbor in Nargothrond, people who were in Eregion and died, people who were in Eregion and survived...

I really want the whole line of Curufinwës to make something together, like, the very first scene is Curufin approaching Celebrimbor not for the first time, but for like the third time and this time he's suggesting a long-term project of some sort, which would give them the opportunity to spend time together in an activity they both enjoy and (used to) both enjoy and are accustomed to doing together. Then that spans the whole story. Idk what it is, though - I do want them to make Maedhros a hand that shoots lasers like Iron Man's glove, but that's not what The Project should be.

CURUFIN HAS TO GET AN EPESSË IN THE END, ONE WHICH HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH FËANOR WHATSOEVER.

MAG 168 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: cutting the Kolkwitzia amabilis in my garden.

Ah yes, another ambiguous... thing. Roots, routes.

I feel like Martin dancing around at the beginning here, asking Jon if he‘ll gonna be okay on his own is already because he‘s jealous and he wants to bring this situation in a certain direction. It sounds like they have already talked about crossing Oliver‘s domain cause Martin knew it’s his.

MARTIN: "So, are you gonna smite him, then?" Hehe, Martin showing his petty side xD The topic is serious, but it's still funny to hear that conversation xD

MARTIN: "I know what I said, and I don’t – (sigh) I don’t know, Martin. I just – I don’t think he’s – (sigh) I don’t know; I don’t think he’s evil." Yeah, that’s also what I thought. He seems neutral? I mean he even tried to save people at first. It was a bit more unfortunate for that boat crew that they were caught up in his little breakdown… Actually how does Oliver feed the End? Is it just those little gestures like looking all sad at Jane or asking the statement giver of MAG 42 what she‘s listening?

MARTIN: (really?) "Oh, yeah, sure; he’s probably a really kind, benevolent ruler of a hellish fear prison." Martin still couldn't wrap his head around the concept of watcher and watched. He is just as much a watcher as Oliver is. Jon is a watcher, that at least he knows, I think, and he doesn't see him as evil.

Ahhh, this scene is so perfect! It's well written and funny and the acting is on point!

That little laugh when Martin is finally out of earshot xD Like „I can’t believe we actually had that conversation r.ight now”

"I have no power to stop it, and even if I did, I would not do so. For to rob a soul of death is as torturous as its inevitable coming." There’s a reason the trope of not being able to die/a fate worse than death is called And I Must Scream.

Is this statement a comment on the rise of self-diagnosing because of the Internet? There have been Hypochondriacs have been around pre-internet, so I'm not so sure about this.

"She may see Maria lying in her hospital bed, monitors crowding her as the doctors struggle to get an IV into her wildly convulsing arm. She might have a flash of Bobby, fingers tightening around the rungs of the ladder as the rusted nails give way. She often sees Dennis’s face as the knife slips eagerly between his ribs, even though he doesn’t die for hours afterwards." Jon‘s mum (surgery complication), Jon‘s dad (fell of a ladder) and Jon himself. This says that Dennis didn’t die for hours, so there’s still a chance for Jon to be saved when they‘ll arrive somewhere else!

"a) When Danika Gelsthorpe reaches the end of her Corpse Route, she will die. This new world of fear reviles death as a release, but the Coming End cannot exist without its reality. It is not a being of dangled promises and shifting torments. The certainty of death waits for all who travel the Corpse Routes, and that certainty will be delivered on, without hesitation or consideration of any other factors." That does very much make sense, otherwise it would lose the one thing the End is about.

"b) This place is a limit on the fear that can be generated from them, as their pool is necessarily finite and ultimately, however slowly, it will be exhausted. To be offset, this consideration will require the acquisition of victims from other domains as replacements, potentially inciting… bad feeling between those domains." When they run out of people, they will get them from somewhere else. Wonder what that "bad feeling between those domains" was meant to be telling us. That watchers would start wars against the End?

"c) A metaphysical quirk of this new reality’s divorce from the traditional concept of time, and – one for which I have no further explanation, means that I do not believe new humans are being created or born." This does make sense in the way of their bodies stopping metabolism. They don't need to eat, they don't need to drink, they don't need to sleep. They are frozen in time. Probably also won't age. And without aging no new life can come into being. (I also headcanon hair stopping to grow, fingernails etc.) But what about domains that feed on the fear of pregnancy or childbirth, bringing up a child? Well, we learn in MAG 178 that the Fears can create artificial people, decoys, NPCs for the sole purpose of making the real ones more afraid. I guess it would be like that.

"d) When this happens, the Great Powers themselves will also fade and die, withering away into nothingness and releasing this reality from their grip." If they need to feed on fear to survive, they will starve. Absolutely makes sense. That's also very similar to the stop-feeling-fear strategy because of which we heard a bunch of people escape their situation. There's just nothing that keeps them going.

"I… do not know how I feel about this." I love Oliver Banks. He's my favourite Avatar side-character!

"Perhaps once it might have horrified me, or given me some sense of pursuing the ultimate release of the world that you have damned." Okay, not cool, Oliver. It was Jonah Magnus who did this.

JON: "The Avatar of Death shall live. (heavy inhale) Martin’s going to be thrilled." It's so poetic, I can't imagine why Martin dislike this.

@a-mag-a-day

ocs as types of suffering + tragic love archetypes

tagged by @hibernationsuit to do a couple quizzes for some ocs, thank u red!!

tagging @narrayya @grimhygge @famewolf @abetterbeginning to do one or both of the quizzes if u want to, no pressure! suffering quiz here, tragic love quiz here <3

did the first quiz for my da girls:

ANDRALE MAHARIEL - yearning

"the pain in your chest bubbles knowing that what you want may never be yours. You're lost in a fantasy world, or consumed by what you wish you were or had as opposed to what you do. it's hard to appreciate what's around you when you're appreciating the hope of what could be instead."

yknow i often consider andrale my most well adjusted oc. she had a relatively stable childhood with friends and loving family. and despite developing a resentment of the world that hates her people as she grows older and desiring a world where things are different she's still mostly satisfied with her life? but this all changes after she becomes a warden. the first months are especially difficult as she's still in denial about her fate and the fact that she's never going back to her old life and indeed yearns for all that she has lost. she eventually learns to live again and enjoy her new life as best she can but she will always carry that sadness and regret and longing with her i think. you may see her happy and content one moment and the next she's staring blankly at nothing, lost in her memories of simpler days.

FRIDA HAWKE - self inadequacy

"you crack under the weight of your own perceived inability. how can you be enough for anyone else when you're just barely enough for yourself? insecurity causes you to have little backbone, and so you fail to reach your full potential when it comes to what you're best at. you sabotage opportunities with fear you'll fail before you've begun. it hurts to never feel like your best is enough, but setting your standards too high or too low ensures it."

i was fully expecting to get 'the giver' as a result for frida but this is accurate too! she never believes she is enough as a daughter or big sister or stand-in parent to the twins or champion or. anything. poor gal believes it's her job to carry the weight of the world and blames herself for not being or doing enough when she inevitably fails. oof

CELYN SURANA - loneliness

"your heart feels full of the connection you feel you lack. no matter how many people are around, strangers or not... someone is missing. you don't know who, what, or if you'll ever find them. you're unsure if there's a person out there who'll really satisfy your life, so really what's the point of continuing to look?"

hmm! celyn was indeed lonely at the circle save for jowan but i have to wonder if it was her own doing. though to be fair i doubt the circle fosters an environment supportive of making friends and forming genuine connections. and obviously the fact that it's partly her own doing doesn't make it any less painful. anyway. celyn put friendships aside in favor of studying and being The Very Best, hoping that advancement in the circle would bring her at least a tiny bit of autonomy and respect. this all leads to a hopeless loop of "i'm lonely and want friends" "don't know how to make friends so i won't even try". she slowly gets better after leaving the circle when andrale and friends coax/force her out of her shell because they need to work togetheeerrr. there's no team-building exercise quite like the blight and the impending end of the world am i right haha

anyway next up some tragic love:

ISABEAU MONET - caníbales; devourer

"love's a knife to skin to you, a vein to woven muscle, blood puddle before you. you listened to all the promises of a stranger's relief and feel the drain of a shower head running it all down again. you committed another murder; kissed and bruised skin with a clench to a quivering wrist and went home in the deafening quiet of a taxi. there's mold covered rage within you. if to take a heart home with you, you'd bite your way through muscle and ribcage first. pleasure comes, but there will be no devouring past it. there is fear in settling down and being seen. there is a glass screen between these bodies and you. relax your tight jaw and feel the real canine fear beneath that scabbed up cavity. the sacrifice of opening up is needed if to be loved as you deeply wish inside. desire doesn't discriminate between hands and spoken word. why should you?"

wowie!! i rarely get serious about isabeau because she's mostly a fun and sexy menace and has convinced even me that that's all there is to her but like. i shouldn't forget that she too is damaged underneath it all 😔 what twenty years of emotional neglect and lack of support from parents does to a gal...

translated from the original spanish and highlighted by Nora for what she believes in important

August 17, 1923 There is something calling me. Pa says that the curse can change its tune to pull you in, but it is not a whisper. It is a tug. It feels like a promise. Gabriel keeps warning me that nothing good will come of this, but it cannot be bad right? It feels warm. It feels strong. It pulls me away from the pueblo. I do not want to leave El Paso. It is my home. But perhaps this pull will finally put to rest this family curse. For once, our children and grandchildren may be able to live without a promise of death and destruction. I will have to warn Alicia before I leave. She knows Gabriel is prone to anger, and she will have to take over my responsibilities as Gabriel's leash holder until I return. I hope I will not be gone long. I do not want little Benito to forget I am his favorite aunt.

November 1, 1930 Gabriel found me. I am surprised it took him this long, but I put more credit to Alicia and Carmen for that. He is so old now, wearing the Kimi around his neck. I cannot believe I missed Pa's funeral, but his final wishes were that they find me. Even at the end he hoped I was still of mind. The Kimi seems to have gone to my brother's head in the time since his passing. I cannot imagine why else he would bring a full team for this. Pedro must have improved much since I last seen him to be chosen as Gabriel's second and little Benito is so tall now. I had hoped he would not have to walk down this path. I wanted to sooth the wound of my family before he had to choose to become one of the Givers of Peace. Hearing him talk about it now is even worse. Is Gabriel using his role as Kimi to convince the others that the peace is a privledge and not a burden? I had thought Alicia would keep him stable, but clearly I had too much faith in her.

Still, to see Gabriel's face once he realized I was not a corpse for him to kill was well worth the others. And for what it is worth, he seems interested in what I have discovered. It feels well to know that he still wishes to see an end to our suffering, even as he wears the Kimi.

November 4, 1930 I introduced Abraham to his cousin and it was nice to see Benito smile at him. Of course, gordito started crying as they were playing but it was still a joy to see. It will likely be the last time the two will ever meet.

Pedro wanted to do what they came here to do, but gratefully hermano still has some sense left in him. We agreed that this could be our family's best chance, even though the [Benefactor]* seems to be changing their mood lately. But that is not for my brother to know. Gabriel promised he would come back every year to check on my progress, but we both know it is to complete the family task.

I will not allow him to hold this knife to my throat. He may be Kimi, but I never turned away from our gift so he has no sway over my actions. As long as I live, the Givers of Peace will not know where I am. I hope he will someday understand that I did not do this out of malice but to protect what I am trying to build. Some day we will not need Kimi. I pray to the Cicerone that Benito's heart will not harden.

*this name as been aggressively crossed out

Regarding an Invisible Person- Jonathan Sims x OC

Jonathan Sims x Mavis Whitlock

Description: Mavis records a statement about an event that happened the previous night. 

Word Count: 1.8k

Mavis was late. Usually the others wouldn’t be too bothered about it, but she usually sent a text or called someone at the institute to let them know. It was nearing 9:00 a.m. (nearly two hours later than when she’s supposed to come in) and everyone was either starting to get worried or they were already worried. 

No one was worried more than Jon though, and it was beginning to show. That’s what clued the others into the severity of the situation, he never showed a lot of emotion at work. After checking his phone for what felt like the hundredth time that hour to see if she’d answered him yet, he was fully prepared to just leave and check on her. Just as he prepared to get up, the door to his office all but burst open. He flinched then looked up only to see Martin in the doorway looking very worried. 

“Martin, what in god’s name-” he stopped mid sentence when the man stepped to the side, revealing Mavis. She looked, for lack of a better term, awful. There were defined bags under her eyes and she looked very pale. Her outfit was haphazardly put together, it didn’t seem like she put a lot of effort in (which was unusual for her). It looked like she hadn’t slept last night. 

“Oh my god Mavis,” Jon exclaimed softly, standing up and rushing over to her. His right hand lifted to cup her cheek while the left moved some hair away from her face, revealing a small cut on her temple. 

“What happened to you?” He asked worriedly. Mavis took a shaky breath as she willed herself to answer him. And she did after a minute of just standing there. 

“I-I um…” she trailed off, licking her lips. “Jon, I think I need to record a statement.” Her voice sounded hoarse, either like she hadn’t talked in a while or she had just finished screaming her lungs out. It only made Jon more worried. 

“Are you sure?” He questioned softly. She nodded slowly, then allowed him to lead her over to his desk. SHe could faintly hear Martin leave and close the door behind him.

“If you get overwhelmed, just tell me and we can stop,” he explained as he took a seat on the other side of his desk. “Are you ready?” Mavis nodded once again and watched as he pressed play on his tape recorder. 

“Statement of Mavis Whitlock, regarding…” he trailed off, looking at Mavis to finish. 

“Oh, uh…” she leaned a bit closer to the tape recorder so her voice could be clearer. “It’s regarding an invisible person.” Jon stared at her for a moment and she worried that he would think she was crazy. She knew more than anyone about his limited belief of the statements and statement givers that filtered through the archives. Luckily he didn’t say anything before leaning back in his seat. 

“Right. Statement recorded directly from subject, April 12, 2017. Recorded by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Whenever you’re ready, Mavis.” It took the girl a moment to gather her thoughts, then a weak laugh left her lips. 

“It feels weird being on this side of the statement, you know?” She muttered, crossing her arms awkwardly. “I’m not really used to it. I always separate myself from the case just to be safe, so I could never take an emotional toll from it. I never thought I’d be the one having to give a statement. But here we are I guess,” she laughed quietly, shaking her head. She noticed Jon offering her an encouraging (albeit miniscule) smile. 

“Sorry, I’m rambling. I’ll get started. Um, so I usually take walks at night. It always gave me a chance to clear my mind and just be alone for a while. And I know what you’re thinking - don’t give me that look Jon - but my neighborhood has been recorded as being one of the safest in that area of London. Besides, even if something happens, I always have pepper spray and a pocket knife that my dad gave me on my person at all times. It worked out well, and nothing had happened to me. Until last night, that is. 

It was an empty night, not many people were out. In fact the streets were empty aside from the occasional car passing by. To be fair I started my walk a bit later than I usually would. It was completely dark out, and the only light sources were the street lamps and people’s porch lights. 

Everything seemed completely normal until I suddenly heard the rustling of leaves behind me while I was on my way home. Of course I didn’t think anything of it at first, I’m not the only one allowed on the street at night. Then I heard someone call out a hey, and I turned around. There was no one there. I tried to pass it off as my imagination and the fact that I’d been talking to people all day, though I did find myself clutching onto the pepper spray in my jacket pocket. 

Anyways, I continued walking and tried to take my mind off it. But then I heard the leaves rustling again. It sounded like someone was following me but upon looking back I realized that I was still alone. I stopped, and the footsteps behind me stopped. I continued walking and the footsteps behind me did as well. Obviously that was when I was actually getting scared, but there still wasn’t anyone. I started walking faster, and then I heard the same voice call out again. 

‘Don’t leave! I don’t want you to go!’ They said. My house was just a few kilometers away so I saw no harm in making a break for it. I didn’t think twice before breaking out in a sprint. My blood was pumping like never before. All I could think about was getting home. The voice was still yelling, much louder now, but I couldn’t figure out what it was saying. It just sounded like jumbled nonsense. The footsteps were still following me, and they were getting closer. 

Luckily whatever it was, it couldn’t catch me before I got to my house. I triple checked that all the doors and windows were locked, but I still didn’t feel safe. That thing saw where I lived, and I have no idea what it’s capable of. 

I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I just sat up in the corner of my room making sure that nothing came in. My knife didn’t leave my hand until I eventually passed out. That happened around 6:00 a.m., which is why I was late today. I uh, I don’t know what it is that chased me, but I do know that neither pepper spray nor my pocket knife would have affected it, and that I never want to see it again. Or, unsee it? Whatever the right word is, I don’t want it to happen again. I don’t think I’ll be taking walks at night anymore,” she finally concluded, a slightly far off look in her eyes. She re-focused on the room when she heard Jon say something. 

“Statement ends,” he said in his ‘Archivist’ tone before looking at her once again. “I’ll get Tim and Clara to do some research on ‘invisible people’ and see what comes of it.” Mavis nodded silently. 

“Alright, end recording.” After turning off the tape recorder, Jon watched her for a moment before leaning closer to her. “Are you okay?” His tone was much softer now, but that didn’t really surprise her. Jon had a knack for being much nicer to her compared to everyone else (probably because they were dating). That’s what made her tell the truth. 

“No,” she answered honestly, trying not to cry. “I am so tired, but I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight knowing that thing is still out there.” She sniffled, and her boyfriend stood up. He walked over and crouched beside her, resting his hand over hers. 

“How about you come back to my place and take a nap. That was you can get some sleep knowing that I’ll be on watch,” he suggested. Now that surprised her. Jon actually wanted to leave work early? She leaned forward a bit to get a better look at him, almost breaking when he leaned back with raised eyebrows. 

“Who are you?” She asked, attempting to sound serious. The smile that was trying to break free was a clear indicator that she was just joking though. Jon chuckled softly and shook his head as he stood up once more. 

“Just someone who cares deeply for their girlfriend and her well-being,” he answered simply, holding out a hand for her. She took it and stood up. 

“I’m sure the institute won’t collapse without the head archivist gone for a day or two,” he added as he led her out of his office and towards the front door. 

“Tell that to Elias.” She wasn’t joking that time, but they still laughed like it was. Elias’ favoritism had become a running joke amongst the archival assistants as well as Mavis and Arwen, and Jon had only just recently been privy to this. 

“Now that could make the institute collapse,” he retorted, making her laugh harder. They passed by Tim’s office where he, Clara, Sasha, Martin and Arwen were talking. They looked at the doorway as the couple passed and, unseen by Mavis, shared a relieved look with Jon upon hearing the girl's laughter. Jon hadn’t been the only one worried about her that morning, you know. 

They told Daphne the basics of what happened (not really going into detail of what Mavis said during her statement) and asked her to pass the message onto Elias before heading out. Jon called a cab and they arrived at his home in less than ten minutes. Usually they didn’t mind walking since it wasn’t far, but Jon didn’t know how good of an idea that would be given Mavis’ exhaustion. Upon arriving Jon gave her some more comfortable clothes to change into then climbed into bed, making himself comfortable on top of the covers while he waited. 

“Thank you for this Jon,” Mavis muttered softly as she walked out of the bathroom and over to bed. “I know how important work is to you.” Jon shook his head as he pulled back the covers beside him, allowing her to crawl in. 

“You’re more important,” he responded simply as he tucked her in. The girl couldn’t hide her blush nor her smile as she cuddled into his side. That reassurance had been both needed and appreciated to her.

“Get some sleep,” he muttered, rubbing her back gently. Mavis didn’t have to be told twice, and within minutes she had fallen into a peaceful slumber.

What do you think each member of the inner circle would be like in bed?

Rhys: very much a giver rather than taker. Will tie you to the bed and spend three hours eating you out until you pass out. Possessive dirty talk, wants to remind you how good he is, how only he can make you feel that way

Feyre: very VERY passionate. Lots of kissing and slow hands, she wants to be completely enamoured with you and doesn’t want any distractions. Maybe a spit kink but more of a completely consumed by everything about you kink

Cassian: I think he’s a low-key sub lol, probs wants to be degraded and defo a brat like will purposely annoy you so you punish him but he just wants a soft dom or maybe a switch because he’d like to get a bit rough feral occasionally

Azriel: defo a daddy dom. Wants control in everything in his life and especially you. I reckon he has countless kinks but bdsm, spit, knife/blood, cumplay etc etc. But when it’s needed he can be super soft too, it’s just rarer

Amren: say it with me now, BLOOD KINK, girl is into some freaky stuff - she wants to be in complete control of your entire body the entire time and that includes your bodily fluids so also spit kink. I also reckon she’s a dom but more of a mistress dom instead of a mommy dom 😌

Mor: hot sex, like red lights on, a lot of tongue and pretty lingerie - if it’s in a modern world she’s taking pictures maybe even a little sex tape. I also think she’s likes to play with and be played with in public, defo a switch and likes to have fun during sex

Elain: I think she’s into like light bondage, maybe some silk ties and stuff but she just wants a soft dom who is caring and kind. Possibly some age regression stuff, but very light - sometimes the little comes out though

Nesta: the mommy dom. Like she’s into pegging, begging, humiliation, degradation like the works. And she’s completely in control the whole time and kinda mean but you like it so it’s fine lol, but aftercare with her is so. Fucking. Good.

Characters of The Untamed rated on how nice I think it would be to get a hug from them (a non-exhaustive list in no particular order)

Lan Xichen: The Obvious Choice™. Strong Lan arms, perfect for hugging. The exact right height to rest his chin on my head. Enfold me in those five million layers of robes, er-ge, and tell me everything will be OK. Possible downsides: high likelihood of waking up dead if Jin Guangyao finds out about it. 10/10, worth it.

Jiang Yanli: another Obvious Choice. The kind of hugger who pays attention to the accompanying gestures, not just the squeezy arms. Definitely a hair-stroker. Probably would kiss the top of my head and I’d be OK with that. 10/10, but wouldn’t it be nice for her to be the huggee rather than the hugger for once?

Nie Mingjue: an excellent choice if what you like in a hug is the comforting weight of steel bands round your torso. And I Do. 9/10

Nie Huaisang: I feel like any time Nie Huaisang hugs you, it turns into you hugging Nie Huaisang, since he is Just Baby when he wants to be. 6/10, still a good time.

Mianmian: not much of a hugger, but would probably oblige if asked nicely. Feel yourself enveloped in the warmth of competence and a strong moral core. 7/10, over too soon.

Jiang Cheng: clearly, Canonically a giver of Great Hugs if you can get him to admit he feels one (1) positive emotion towards you. Excellent arm pressure, bonus points for his efforts to full-body meld with the huggee. 11/10 if you can get ‘em.

Wei Wuxian: this may be heresy, but I very much feel like unless you’re Lan Zhan or one of his siblings, it’s quantity over quality from Wei Wuxian. Good for regular, casual hugs, not so much l i ng e r i n g ones. 7/10, would rather hug him instead.

Jin Xixuan: probably an acceptable hugger after extensive coaching from Jiang Yanli, but it’ll never come naturally. He tries so hard though. 4/10.

Jin Guangyao: absolutely not, no way in hell. A hug would just leave his hands in the exact right position to slip a knife between my shoulderblades. I’ll pass, thanks. -3/10. However, I would hug younger!Meng Yao. It’d probably be a deeply uncomfortable experience for both of us, but I think he needs it.

Song Lan: does Not do hugs, but would give you a nod of acknowledgement that leaves you feeling fantastic about yourself. 5/10.

Xiao Xingchen: hell yes. He’s got the Strong Cultivator Arms™, the boundless love for humanity, the perfect height advantage (look, I am very much a connoisseur of hugs from the short person perspective). He is not, perhaps, a natural at it, but he’s Worked Hard and Put In The Effort and oh boy has it paid off. 10/10.

Lan Qiren: oh so very awkward. He would, if he thought it was necessary, but you’d end up kind of wishing he’d just left you there feeling sad on your own. 3/10.

Lan Wangji: very good hugs (look, he has the Lan Arms™ and also a lot of pent-up emotions better expressed through actions rather than words), but only available to three, maybe four, people in the world. 13/10 if you’re on the Hug List, 5/10 for wistful, daydreamed hugs if not.

Xue Yang: as with Jin Guangyao above, absolutely not. In many ways, a worse time than Jin Guangyao because of the high chance that your hug will be mysteriously Sticky™. Is it blood? Is it candy? Is it viscera? Probably! -10/10.

Wen Qing: very proficient at hugs - perfect pressure, perfect duration - but actually heartfelt ones are restricted to a very limited list of people. 6/10, is this hug a cover for some impromptu acupuncture?

Wen Ning: once he’s figured out the super-strength thing enough to not crack your ribs, an excellent and comfortingly solid hugger. You would absolutely feel loved in a Wen Ning hug. 9/10, one point deducted for lack of body heat.

Jin Ling: much like Jiang Cheng, difficult to persuade to hug you rather than fight you, but if you’re one of the lucky few, prepare to be hugged to within an inch of your life. In a good way. 8/10.

Lan Sizhui: has learnt from both his dads, not to mention Uncle Xichen, and combines quantity and quality of hug to perfection. 15/10.

Unrequited

azriel (acotar) x reader

Summary: takes place during acofas, you and Azriel are mates but he doesn’t know it yet, angst, fluff, and everything in between

*Also this is my first imagine ever so I'm sorry if it sucks lol! There will be a part 2 to this, but I am still working on it!!

word count: 3927

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

The winter solstice was in a few days and you weren’t sure what to get some of the inner circle. You walked briskly down the streets of the Rainbow, chilled to the bone due to the wind. You had made the dumb mistake of rushing out of the townhouse - to avoid any questions of where you were going - without taking your scarf. Your current outfit, which was a chunky knit blue sweater with leggings and boots, wasn’t enough to keep the chill away. But the cold wasn’t the most important thing on your mind. You had already bought presents for Rhys, Feyre, Amren, and Elain, but that left Cassian, Mor, and Azriel. Mor and Cass would be pretty easy to buy for, but you put it off knowing they would look through your room trying to find their solstice gift. But Azriel, that would be much harder.

Every waking hour, the shadowsinger haunted your thoughts. Something you had come to conclude was unrequited.

You had realized the mating bond between you two before he did.

It had clicked a few months ago while on a diplomatic mission. The aftermath of Hybern had left things chaotic, and if you were being honest, it still was. Rhys decided to send Cassian, Mor, Azriel, and you to travel to some of the other courts to bring back reports on the recovery after the war. However, traveling did have some dangers. While you were on your way back to Velaris from the Winter Court, your group was ambushed by a group of Hybern soldiers who had been hiding out in the mountains. Had it not been for Azriel’s wings shielding you from the initial arrows, you would’ve surely been dead, and that’s when it clicked for you. But like an idiot, you didn’t say anything.

You had thought if the bond had clicked for you, it would've clicked for Azriel too. You realized your mistake when Azriel hadn’t acknowledged any change between you two. You hoped that he would figure it out in the coming weeks, but he didn’t. You knew the same sort of situation happened with feyre and rhys so you still held out some hope. But as the months went by, and you realized the bond still hadn’t clicked for Azriel and it felt too late to tell him.

At least that was the excuse you made up. Truly, you were also afraid of the rejection that could have followed. You weren’t a fool, you knew him and Elain had some sort of connection, and that shattered your dreams even more. The possibility that he wouldn’t accept the mating bond to be with the fair skinned, doe eyed fae. Everytime Azriel was in the same room as Elain, she was the only thing he would pay attention to. During gatherings, you would plaster on a smile and act as if you were happy, but Cassian and Mor, your best friends, could sense your discomfort. They tried to ask you about it, but seeing as you would shut down anything they said, they decided not to pry too much. Amren ended up figuring out the source of your discomfort had to do with Azriel, but kept your secret until you would be ready to share it.

You came to the conclusion that distancing yourself from him would be the best option, so that's what you did.

You walked down the street till you got to one of the finest seamstresses is Velaris. Since you were an artist like Feyre, you decided to draw out a dress and have it made for Mor. The color was blood red, her signature. It was a silk slip dress that would come down to her mid-lower calf and it would be embroidered with a brilliant gold thread. You drew out a pattern of the sun, stars, and moon, which you hoped she would like. To go along with Mor’s dress, you got a jeweler to make a custom necklace and bracelet set to go with it. You designed more dainty jewelry that had gold stars with diamonds, since she was a dreamer.

You decided to design Cassian’s gift as well, creating a beautiful silver and black dagger with a moonstone on the hilt. It was a beautiful dagger, but you also made sure it was usable, because you would hate for it to go to waste. To add onto the combat theme, you also decided to buy him new fighting leathers with touches of red embroidery to match his siphons. Lastly, you bought Cassian a bottle of fae wine, which definitely wouldn't last long.

The last thing you got for all three of you was a friendship necklace. Although that sounds corny, the two of them had become such a positive force in your life and you couldn’t imagine life without them. Keeping with the celestial theme for the friendship necklaces, you bought a sun, a moon, and a star. The sun for Cassian, the moon for Mor, and the star for you. Although they are opposites in some ways, all three need each other, just like the three of you needed each other.

Now that you had gotten Mor’s and Cassian’s solstice gifts figured out, it was onto Azriel’s gift. You honestly had no clue what to get him. Due to distancing yourself, you weren’t sure if there was something that he wanted. You were positively stumped. Lucky for you though, you ended up spotting Mor in another shop a few stores down from where you were, most likely getting the rest of her solstice gifts. You decided to sneak up on her as a friendly prank. Grabbing her shoulders, you yelled in her ear, making her jump.

“Oh mother above, it’s just you, y/n! You scared the life out of me” Mor said.

“Doing some last minute shopping?” you asked. “I could ask you the same thing”. Giving her a playful smack on the arm, the corners of your mouth curled upward, even the simplest remark from her could make you smile.

The two of you were currently standing in front of a jewelry shop, looking at the collections of necklaces and earrings through the window. “Wow” you breathed out “These are all so beautiful”

“Indeed they are, although they’re quite pricey”

“How pricey is pricey?”

She whispered the amount in your ear and you stopped breathing for a second, “Holy Mother wow, that is quite the price tag. At least we can admire it from a far”, you laughed out. Even though you got a very generous salary from Rhys, you still felt guilty spending so much money on materialistic things.

After a moment you said, “Actually, since you’re here, I do need help finding a solstice gift for Azriel”, softening your voice at the end, “Any ideas?” you asked, drawing out the syllables.

“Well, I always get Azriel some cool towels, clothing, or a dagger!” Mor said. A small scoff came out of my mouth as I shook my head and raised my eyebrows. “Fine!” she exclaimed, “I may have overheard him needing a new leather sheath for Truth Teller.” grumbling towards the end. “Oh that sounds great, thank you for the help! Now let’s go off to the closest leather goods store and find a sheath!”.

“y/n! I still have shopping to do” a scowl appearing on her face. “Fine, I guess I’ll just call Cassian, cause his judgement might be better than yours, when it comes to knife related things of course” you said, baiting her.

“Ugh, I hate you y/n”

“I hate you too Mor”

“Fine, let's get going before I change my mind” she grumbled. Then we took off down the streets of the Rainbow to find a sheath.

The task was easier said than done, for you at least. Being indecisive and a major over thinker, you had looked through close to 100 sheaths, but none of them seemed good enough to hold the blade that Azriel never let anyone else touch. Except Elain.

While you were lost in your thoughts, you laid your y/c eyes on the perfect sheath. It had a bright cobalt blue stitching to match Az’s siphons. Along the tip and lining the top of the leather was a thin coat of silver plating with little sapphires embedded in the metal. You quickly snatched it up and paid a hefty price for it, but it was perfect.

“Thank god you finally picked one, it felt like we were in that store for centuries”. Mor sighed, probably a sigh of relief for getting out of the store, “But y/n, it’s perfect, I know Azriel will love it”

“Do you really think so? I just want it to be the perfect gift and I’m scared he won’t like it because what if it’s too simplistic and what if-”

“Hey! It's perfect! Don’t stress too much y/n. And for the record, I think that you’re an amazing gift giver - the amount of thought you put into gifts make it all the better.”

You could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and mumbled a small thank you.

“Anyway while we’re here do you need to get anything to go with your solstice outfit?”

“Oh Actually, I was so stressed about getting everyone’s solstice gift that I forgot to buy my dress” your voice falling off at the end. You felt yourself being yanked to a harsh stop and the saw Mor’s face staring at yours, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

“Are you crazy?? Solstice is in 3 days and you still don’t have anything??? Oh honey, our shopping isn’t done yet.” And with that statement you found yourself being pulled into the nearest dress shop. After trying on nearly 20 dresses you finally found the perfect one, which Mor approved. It was a light blue silk dress that was more fitted at the top but flared down at your waist. It had a cowl neckline, a slit going up the side to the mid upper thigh, and accentuates your curves beautifully and has a slight shimmer to it. You looked ethereal in it

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

After your exhausting day of shopping, you couldn’t wait to get out of the cold. You swiftly walked back to the townhouse. Once inside you made your way to your room to set down the gifts, change your clothes, and grab your book. Then you quietly headed down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea and sat on the couch to read. The house was quiet since all of the others decided to go to Rita’s tonight. You decided to stay home for some much needed relaxation. You opened your book and started reading. After a few hours, you felt your eyes drooping and eventually, sleep consumed you.

The loud noise of the front door caused you to stir and your eyes fluttered open. You were too exhausted to look so you just laid your head back down and tried to go to sleep. You could hear Mor whispering something and then felt yourself being lifted off the couch and being held close to a chest with your blanket still draped on you.

“Cass?” you whispered hoarsely along with a string of incoherent words

You heard a slight laugh “Not Cass but It’s ok, go back to sleep”. Then you felt yourself being gently placed on your bed and the sleep hit you before you could mutter a thank you.

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

The sun was setting towards the sea as you sat in the sitting room of the town house. You were in your blue silk dress with a glass of wine in your hand. Rhys and Feyre were by the mantel, quietly talking while Mor and Amren were across the room. Near the window I saw Elain, and from the corner of my eye I could see Azriel making his way towards her. My face fell but I quickly plastered on a smile, not wanting to concern anyone. Especially since today was also Feyre’s birthday and we had planned a surprise for her. Feyre thought she could slip her birthday past us, but we hadn’t forgotten. After a few minutes, Cassian made his way from the kitchen with the enormous cake.

You floated towards Feyre and gave her arm a light squeeze. “Happy Birthday, make a wish before the candles melt!”

She blew out the candles and then we ate cake before opening up the presents.

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

Rhys snapped his fingers and piles of brightly wrapped bags and boxes filled up the sitting room. Amren was the first to open her presents. Naturally, everyone got her something jewelry related. Amren opened mine and you saw a wide smile set across her face, she picked up the diamond necklace and nodded a ‘thank you’ your way. You returned the gesture back, a small smile forming on your face.

Next, Cassian handed Mor her present from him and she pulled out a-. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He bought her red lingerie. Your face turned slightly red, but the Mor said “Don’t let him fool you: he couldn’t think of a damn thing to get me, so he gave up and asked me outright. I gave him precise orders. For once in his life, he obeyed them.”

Then, you heard one sharp knock at the door.

Nesta.

You saw Cassian tense up a bit. Nesta walked in, linking arms with Elain. She got a glass of wine before heading to sit in a chair in the back of the room. The silence was deafening. Finally Varian started talking and the present opening resumed.

From Amren, you received a new calligraphy set. It was so beautiful and you loved it. From Rhys, you got some books. It was perfect since you loved to read, and they were ones that you had been wanting to read for a long time. From Feyre, you received a painting as well as a new paint brush kit.

Cassian made his way to you and set a gift down in your lap. You opened the dark blue box that Cassian had placed in your lap. He had gotten you a sky blue hardbound journal with a gold embossed star on it. You desperately needed a new one, and this was perfect. You walked over and gave him a hug, whispered “Thank you, I love it.”.

Next you opened Mor’s present. You nearly choked when you saw what she got you and your whole face heated up. She got you a matching navy blue lingerie set like the one Cassian bought her.

“Yeah, I wasn’t too sure what to get you so I thought we could twin”. You looked around the room and saw the others holding in their laughs. You could’ve sworn you saw a tinge of red on Azriel’s ears. You just smiled and mouthed a silent “I’m going to kill you, but thank you” at her.

There wasn’t anything from Azriel. Your heart twinged. Had you not been important enough? It was just a present you reminded yourself, fixing your composure before handing Cassian his present.

He ripped it open like an animal, squealing when he saw it. A promising reaction given the amount of thought you put into it.

“Did you design these? They look amazing!”

“Yeah, I’m glad you like it. It took a long time to figure out what to get for your dumb ass”

“You mean my cute ass”, you smacked his arm and then got up to give Mor her present.

You closely watched her reaction as she opened her dress and jewelry, a large smile spreading across her face.

“You really buy the perfect presents y/n, I love it”.

“Oh Cass, Mor. One more thing.” You pulled out the small boxes with the friendship necklaces and bracelets handing it to them. “This was just a little something extra I thought of, I hope you like it”. You knew you would have started stuttering and crying if you had said the meaning to them, so you just handed them notes instead. They read over them, eyes glossing over, and pulled you into a hug.

“This is the only time I’ll wear jewelry” Cass stated, causing you to chuckle

Then Mor said, “I am never taking this off” causing you to laugh again.

Finally, Azriel opened up his presents. He had opened up all the others. All that was left was yours and Elain’s gift to him. He found his way to your present first, opening it.

“A new sheath for Truth Teller. I heard you needed a new one” you quietly said.

He held your gaze and smiled, “Thank you, it's great”. Suddenly feeling exposed, you quickly gave him a nod.

Then he went to open Elain’s gift. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.” she said.

Silence.

Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

Silence again.

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.

You hadn’t heard him laugh before, and mother above it was gorgeous. You had never heard a sound so deep and joyous, a sound which made your heart clench. A part of you wished you were the reason he was laughing. You forced on a smile and spent the rest of the night drinking away the slight pain in your chest.

You were exhausted by the end of the night, sitting on the couch with Cassian and Mor, Azriel and Rhys seated on the opposite side of you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement towards the door, and craned your head to see what was going on. It was Nesta making her way to the door. You felt the couch lift next to you.

Cassian. He had swiftly pushed past Feyre and went after Nesta. This wouldn’t end well.

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

Cassian had come back quiet and brooding, walking straight to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of liquor. You got up off the couch and followed him straight into the kitchen.

“Cass, let’s take a walk, yeah?”

“I just took a walk”

“It wasn’t a question”. You grabbed a white shawl and his hand and led him outside. “What happened?”

“What’s there to talk about? It was like all the other times. Why did I have to fall in love with someone who doesn't even love me back. Who looks at me like the Illyrian born bastard I am. Who hates the idea of being in the same room as me.”

You grabbed Cass’ hand, lightly squeezing it. “Don’t say that. Nesta, she,” your voice stopping for a second “She’s different. The way she handles pain and copes is different. Give her time. She just needs time. I know how much that may pain you, but you can’t rush healing”

You pulled him into a hug

“And for the record, I know the feeling more than you know” you quietly said “unrequited love”, head pointed at the ground.

Cassian tilted his head down to look at you, his face painted with confusion. You could tell he wanted to know more, but didn’t want to pry too much.

You hesitated before continuing, not sure if you wanted to reveal your closely guarded secret. “I-“ your voice faltering, “I found my mate”. The words seemed to have rushed out of your mouth and tears pricked your eyes as you said that. After months of hiding it, you had finally gotten it off your chest.

Cassian stood shocked, staring at you. “You found your mate? And you didn’t think to tell any of us? How long ago was this”

“I-, I found out who he was around the same time Rhys sent us on that diplomatic mission. And I didn’t tell anyone because he doesn’t even know yet.”

“That was almost 6 months ago, and you didn’t say anything?”.

The tears had started flowing at this point, “I thought he would figure it out. But by the time I realized he wasn’t going to figure it out, it was too late. He had already set his eyes on someone else. And I know I could never compete with Elain, even if I am his mate.” the last part slipped out without you realizing.

“Elain? What does she-“ his eyes widening “Does that mean Az is-“

You slowly nodded, tears welled up, threatening to spill out.

“Oh, mother…”, he pulled you into a tighter hug and that’s when the gates broke. You couldn’t hold back your tears as you sobbed into Cassian's chest, his hand stroking your back.

you must have been there for 15 minutes before you realized the other might start getting suspicious. Regaining your composure, you dried your tears and tried, to the best of your ability, to hide that you had been crying.

Looking back at Cassian, you gave him a slight smile before muttering, “Thank you. I’m sorry for dumping that on you, but please promise me you won’t tell anyone. Please.”

“Of course y/n, and don’t apologize, if it makes you feel better, it helped to take my mind off of Nesta and my own problems, which I desperately needed” he chuckled out.

With the smile still on your face, you linked arms with Cassian before saying, “Oh mother above it’s freezing, let’s get back inside before we turn into popsicles!”

He let out another laugh before the two of you made your way back into the house.

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

You walked into the house and your sliver of happiness was crushed as you saw Az and Elain sitting at the table smiling and laughing quietly to themselves. Elain had her sketchbook out, showing Az her plans for the garden.

Your distraught had been clear to anyone who saw your face, and you were too tired to realize you weren’t able to hide it fast enough. Not being able to view the scene anymore, you quickly got up, muttered happy solstice, and grabbed your coat and purse before heading out the door to your apartment.

While walking home, you were consumed by your thoughts. You hated the pangs of jealousy that coursed through you. You often found yourself jealous of her soft spokenness and kindness. You also found yourself jealous of her effortless beauty. It was something that kept you up at night. She was so likeable and easily approachable, something you wished you were.

You were so drowned in your own thoughts that you hadn’t noticed a male following you till it was too late. One of his hands clamped on your mouth while the other grabbed your waist and pushed you into the nearest alleyway.

The male pulled out a knife and your tears started to fall. You were terrified about what he would do to you. This could be the last time you would have seen your family. You were struggling and kicking against him but it was no use. Your senses were groggy from the alcohol and drowsiness.

You had been so stupid to walk home alone at 2 in the morning. No matter how angry you were, you should’ve just stayed at the town house.

Before you could realize what was happening, you felt a sharp pain shoot through your side.

The sound of a clatter.

Receding footsteps.

A crimson stain blooming.

Your body crumpled to the ground and your vision started blacked out. This was it. Nobody could hear you and nobody could save you.

Lets talk about Azriel’s shadows...

I think that a lot of people seem to forget what Azriel’s shadows actually represent and what different reaction from them actually mean.

Lets start at the very beginning to his childhood... For the first 11 years of his life, Azriel lived in a cell with no windows or light. He was allowed to come out only for an hour a day, and to see his mother for one hour every week. There are many different ways that one can argue how Azriel came to acquire his shadowsinging abilities or whether it was something genetic (either way, its very rare). Rhysand did mention that he might’ve learned to speak to his shadows in the cell that he was kept in. Either way, his shadows are not something of his past that he necessarily wants to remember. Whether he’s appreciative of those shadows now does not reflect the fact that they were born out of fear and loneliness.

In terms of personality, it’s very important to note how he reacts to things and different people. The way that I see it, he uses his shadows as a defense mechanism. Whenever he’s in an uncomfortable situation, he tends to hide in a corner and his shadows surround him to block from sight. However, when he’s in a good situation or surrounded by certain people, they seem to go away. A lot of people see that as a bad thing, but his shadows are not only supposed to represent his powers, but also his very traumatic past. Soooo you might ask, what exactly do the shadowsinger’s shadows represent?

Well, here is my take. Those shadows in terms that are not power-based, represent that very same cell that he was locked in for the first 11 years of his life. I’m not talking about Nuala and Cerridwen here. I’m talking about his defense mechanism shadows. This wonderful male was trapped without social contact, friends, or anyone to rely on. So yeah, he will be introvert. He has a family, but that doesn't stop him from the fact that his social skills will not be the best in comparison. His shadows represent his loneliness that he feels he deserves and craves when he feels cornered. For the first 11 years of his life, that was ALL HE KNEW. When his shadows “brighten” or are nowhere to be seen, I can imagine that as being the hour he had out of his cell every day. That feeling of relief and freedom. Yes, he needs to learn to accept himself more and who he has become. However, that can be done in the sense that his shadows do not have to be around him ALL THE TIME.

Now, in terms of relationships: 

Mor: His first love. At the young age of around 19. Only 8 years after he’s been let out into society and learned his way through. Does he even know how to handle love?? Probably not. He was born a bastard and probably saw his mother being treated like shit by his father and stepmother. So I doubt love is something he believes in at this point. However, he does fall in love with her. His reaction to that? What he knows best. Avoidance. That dark cell still very present in his mind. That feeling of being very aware of how broken you are but don’t know how to fix it. He does not want to put that burden on Mor. Everything that happens between Cassian and Mor probably makes him feel even worse. Throughout the years though, he can’t help but feel happy just to be around her and in her presence (hence why his shadows disappear). It can be argued that he's known that she hasn't been interested for a while. Maybe what he truly craved wasn't the actual love that he wanted from Mor, but the feeling of love that came from her that made his shadows go away. He craved it and wanted to be around her for that feeling.

Elain: The first time that Azriel meets Elain is in the human lands. She asks him if he can truly fly. He blushes and gets flustered, and why? Do you think that maybe a lot of people haven't bothered to see him in a certain light to ask those type of questions? I mean sure he has his family, but this human girl that is supposedly terrified of him because he’s fae, asks him such a simple and light-hearted question... Slowly but surely, in ACOWAR he beings to get more comfortable with her. She’s broken but at the same time, holding on. He takes notice of a certain light that she radiates as well as her seer powers a little bit later. The first time they’re brought over to the House of Wind, she calls his scars beautiful. The importance of this scene is very overlooked. She called the thing that makes him the most insecure, induces the most amount of fear, and creates his hatred... beautiful. This woman that barely knows him has already accepted every part of him. He further loves to glance out at the garden (a place of happiness that reminds him of Elain) and loves to look at that hidden light in her eyes that makes his shadows either brighten or disappear. It’s very similar to the feeling with Morrigan, but more direct and has incentive. Now, lets talk about truth-teller (the knife that always strikes true). That is one part of himself that he has never shared with ANYONE. Why did he give her truth-teller? Because Elain has already accepted every part of him. Truth-teller is an extension to himself in a sense. Something that belongs wholly to him and makes him feel safe. He trusts Elain enough to give her a part of himself. A very vulnerable moment never seen before by Azriel. In ACOFAS, When Azriel asks about Lucien, he truly does not want to spy on him. It could be for privacy reasons because of Elain but also because he’s afraid of what he’ll see from him in terms of Elain. His siphons gutter and he stutters over his words. Now, winter solstice was a very light-hearted moment but very important as well. As we can tell, Elain is the perfect gift-giver. She gives Azriel a potion for his headaches which is perfect and very hilarious since he laughs (he’s never laughed before in Feyre’s presence). It’s very telling to Elain’s personality as being a very attentive person which amounts to her really caring about Azriel and what’s going on with him. He tends to be pretty hidden and keeps a poker face most of the time, so for her to notice the little things like that is very important. I rest my case..... for now.

Gwyn: I honestly cannot say much about this ship. What I can say are from pages I have been sent and trends I have been seeing through Azriel’s personality. It seems to me like Azriel is the least tense around people he considers his friends and brothers. Even though he's usually pretty serious anyways, the bat boys seem really comfortable with each other. When Mor was around (especially in ACOMAF), he would get worried. However, when she wasn't paying to him, his shadows would disappear (similar things happened with Elain). It seems to me like Gwyn has an outwardly fun personality and Azriel has no problem with that because he is not worried about anything happening. The most I’ve seen from the books between them is simple banter that included the rest of the friend group. When either of them talk, what I’ve seen from Azriel is amusement. That amusement results in Azriel’s shadows dancing around HIMSELF. Not anyone else. No, the shadows did not dance around Gwyn or any other person. I currently see this as a friendship and would need more build-up for me to even ship it. It seems like Azriel seems fine acting like this with people he is not worried about catching feelings with.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

here’s a story about changelings

reposted from my old blog, which got deleted:   Mary was a beautiful baby, sweet and affectionate, but by the time she’s three she’s turned difficult and strange, with fey moods and a stubborn mouth that screams and bites but never says mama. But her mother’s well-used to hard work with little thanks, and when the village gossips wag their tongues she just shrugs, and pulls her difficult child away from their precious, perfect blossoms, before the bites draw blood. Mary’s mother doesn’t drown her in a bucket of saltwater, and she doesn’t take up the silver knife the wife of the village priest leaves out for her one Sunday brunch. She gives her daughter yarn, instead, and instead of a rowan stake through her inhuman heart she gives her a child’s first loom, oak and ash. She lets her vicious, uncooperative fairy daughter entertain herself with games of her own devising, in as much peace and comfort as either of them can manage. Mary grows up strangely, as a strange child would, learning everything in all the wrong order, and biting a great deal more than she should. But she also learns to weave, and takes to it with a grand passion. Soon enough she knows more than her mother–which isn’t all that much–and is striking out into unknown territory, turning out odd new knots and weaves, patterns as complex as spiderwebs and spellrings. “Aren’t you clever,” her mother says, of her work, and leaves her to her wool and flax and whatnot. Mary’s not biting anymore, and she smiles more than she frowns, and that’s about as much, her mother figures, as anyone should hope for from their child. Mary still cries sometimes, when the other girls reject her for her strange graces, her odd slow way of talking, her restless reaching fluttering hands that have learned to spin but never to settle. The other girls call her freak, witchblood, hobgoblin. “I don’t remember girls being quite so stupid when I was that age,” her mother says, brushing Mary’s hair smooth and steady like they’ve both learned to enjoy, smooth as a skein of silk. “Time was, you knew not to insult anyone you might need to flatter later. ‘Specially when you don’t know if they’re going to grow wings or horns or whatnot. Serve ‘em all right if you ever figure out curses.” “I want to go back,” Mary says. “I want to go home, to where I came from, where there’s people like me. If I’m a fairy’s child I should be in fairyland, and no one would call me a freak.” “Aye, well, I’d miss you though,” her mother says. “And I expect there’s stupid folk everywhere, even in fairyland. Cruel folk, too. You just have to make the best of things where you are, being my child instead.” Mary learns to read well enough, in between the weaving, especially when her mother tracks down the traveling booktraders and comes home with slim, precious manuals on dyes and stains and mordants, on pigments and patterns, diagrams too arcane for her own eyes but which make her daughter’s eyes shine. “We need an herb garden,” her daughter says, hands busy, flipping from page to page, pulling on her hair, twisting in her skirt, itching for a project. “Yarrow, and madder, and woad and weld…” “Well, start digging,” her mother says. “Won’t do you a harm to get out of the house now’n then.” Mary doesn’t like dirt but she’s learned determination well enough from her mother. She digs and digs, and plants what she’s given, and the first year doesn’t turn out so well but the second’s better, and by the third a cauldron’s always simmering something over the fire, and Mary’s taking in orders from girls five years older or more, turning out vivid bolts and spools and skeins of red and gold and blue, restless fingers dancing like they’ve summoned down the rainbow. Her mother figures she probably has. “Just as well you never got the hang of curses,” she says, admiring her bright new skirts. “I like this sort of trick a lot better.” Mary smiles, rocking back and forth on her heels, fingers already fluttering to find the next project. She finally grows up tall and fair, if a bit stooped and squinty, and time and age seem to calm her unhappy mouth about as well as it does for human children. Word gets around she never lies or breaks a bargain, and if the first seems odd for a fairy’s child then the second one seems fit enough. The undyed stacks of taken orders grow taller, the dyed lots of filled orders grow brighter, the loom in the corner for Mary’s own creations grows stranger and more complex. Mary’s hands callus just like her mother’s, become as strong and tough and smooth as the oak and ash of her needles and frames, though they never fall still. “Do you ever wonder what your real daughter would be like?” the priest’s wife asks, once. Mary’s mother snorts. “She wouldn’t be worth a damn at weaving,” she says. “Lord knows I never was. No, I’ll keep what I’ve been given and thank the givers kindly. It was a fair enough trade for me. Good day, ma’am.” Mary brings her mother sweet chamomile tea, that night, and a warm shawl in all the colors of a garden, and a hairbrush. In the morning, the priest’s son comes round, with payment for his mother’s pretty new dress and a shy smile just for Mary. He thinks her hair is nice, and her hands are even nicer, vibrant in their strength and skill and endless motion.   They all live happily ever after. * Here’s another story: Gregor grew fast, even for a boy, grew tall and big and healthy and began shoving his older siblings around early. He was blunt and strange and flew into rages over odd things, over the taste of his porridge or the scratch of his shirt, over the sound of rain hammering on the roof, over being touched when he didn’t expect it and sometimes even when he did. He never wore shoes if he could help it and he could tell you the number of nails in the floorboards without looking, and his favorite thing was to sit in the pantry and run his hands through the bags of dry barley and corn and oat. Considering as how he had fists like a young ox by the time he was five, his family left him to it. “He’s a changeling,” his father said to his wife, expecting an argument, but men are often the last to know anything about their children, and his wife only shrugged and nodded, like the matter was already settled, and that was that. They didn’t bind Gregor in iron and leave him in the woods for his own kind to take back. They didn’t dig him a grave and load him into it early. They worked out what made Gregor angry, in much the same way they figured out the personal constellations of emotion for each of their other sons, and when spring came, Gregor’s father taught him about sprouts, and when autumn came, Gregor’s father taught him about sheaves. Meanwhile his mother didn’t mind his quiet company around the house, the way he always knew where she’d left the kettle, or the mending, because she was forgetful and he never missed a detail. “Pity you’re not a girl, you’d never drop a stitch of knitting,” she tells Gregor, in the winter, watching him shell peas. His brothers wrestle and yell before the hearth fire, but her fairy child just works quietly, turning peas by their threes and fours into the bowl. “You know exactly how many you’ve got there, don’t you?” she says. “Six hundred and thirteen,” he says, in his quiet, precise way. His mother says “Very good,” and never says Pity you’re not human. He smiles just like one, if not for quite the same reasons. The next autumn he’s seven, a lucky number that pleases him immensely, and his father takes him along to the mill with the grain. “What you got there?” The miller asks them. “Sixty measures of Prince barley, thirty two measures of Hare’s Ear corn, and eighteen of Abernathy Blue Slate oats,” Gregor says. “Total weight is three hundred fifty pounds, or near enough. Our horse is named Madam. The wagon doesn’t have a name. I’m Gregor.” “My son,” his father says. “The changeling one.” “Bit sharper’n your others, ain’t he?” the miller says, and his father laughs. Gregor feels proud and excited and shy, and it dries up all his words, sticks them in his throat. The mill is overwhelming, but the miller is kind, and tells him the name of each and every part when he points at it, and the names of all the grain in all the bags waiting for him to get to them. “Didn’t know the fair folk were much for machinery,” the miller says. Gregor shrugs. “I like seeds,” he says, each word shelled out with careful concentration. “And names. And numbers.” “Aye, well. Suppose that’d do it. Want t’help me load up the grist?” They leave the grain with the miller, who tells Gregor’s father to bring him back ‘round when he comes to pick up the cornflour and cracked barley and rolled oats. Gregor falls asleep in the nameless wagon on the way back, and when he wakes up he goes right back to the pantry, where the rest of the seeds are left, and he runs his hands through the shifting, soothing textures and thinks about turning wheels, about windspeed and counterweights. When he’s twelve–another lucky number–he goes to live in the mill with the miller, and he never leaves, and he lives happily ever after. * Here’s another: James is a small boy who likes animals much more than people, which doesn’t bother his parents overmuch, as someone needs to watch the sheep and make the sheepdogs mind. James learns the whistles and calls along with the lambs and puppies, and by the time he’s six he’s out all day, tending to the flock. His dad gives him a knife and his mom gives him a knapsack, and the sheepdogs give him doggy kisses and the sheep don’t give him too much trouble, considering. “It’s not right for a boy to have so few complaints,” his mother says, once, when he’s about eight. “Probably ain’t right for his parents to have so few complaints about their boy, neither,” his dad says. That’s about the end of it. James’ parents aren’t very talkative, either. They live the routines of a farm, up at dawn and down by dusk, clucking softly to the chickens and calling harshly to the goats, and James grows up slow but happy. When James is eleven, he’s sent to school, because he’s going to be a man and a man should know his numbers. He gets in fights for the first time in his life, unused to peers with two legs and loud mouths and quick fists. He doesn’t like the feel of slate and chalk against his fingers, or the harsh bite of a wooden bench against his legs. He doesn’t like the rules: rules for math, rules for meals, rules for sitting down and speaking when you’re spoken to and wearing shoes all day and sitting under a low ceiling in a crowded room with no sheep or sheepdogs. Not even a puppy. But his teacher is a good woman, patient and experienced, and James isn’t the first miserable, rocking, kicking, crying lost lamb ever handed into her care. She herds the other boys away from him, when she can, and lets him sit in the corner by the door, and have a soft rag to hold his slate and chalk with, so they don’t gnaw so dryly at his fingers. James learns his numbers well enough, eventually, but he also learns with the abruptness of any lamb taking their first few steps–tottering straight into a gallop–to read. Familiar with the sort of things a strange boy needs to know, his teacher gives him myths and legends and fairytales, and steps back. James reads about Arthur and Morgana, about Hercules and Odysseus, about djinni and banshee and brownies and bargains and quests and how sometimes, something that looks human is left to try and stumble along in the humans’ world, step by uncertain step, as best they can. James never comes to enjoy writing. He learns to talk, instead, full tilt, a leaping joyous gambol, and after a time no one wants to hit him anymore. The other boys sit next to him, instead, with their mouths closed, and their hands quiet on their knees.   “Let’s hear from James,” the men at the alehouse say, years later, when he’s become a man who still spends more time with sheep than anyone else, but who always comes back into town with something grand waiting for his friends on his tongue. “What’ve you got for us tonight, eh?” James finishes his pint, and stands up, and says, “Here’s a story about changelings.”

Euryale NSFW ABC maybe?

Written by @evoedbd​

A= Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Cuddles are a must.  Euryale is instantly all over her partner, albeit quite obliviously.  Mortals are such strange creatures sometimes, but no request is too outrageous for Euryale to follow without question when it comes to aftercare.

 B= Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s)

Hands.  Hands down. The way elegant fingers can curl so viciously around the hilt of a blade, but weave so softly between Euryale’s own.  The way those fingers can be so filling, but never bring undesired pain.  Nothing is better than hands Euryale knows she is safe to shatter into.

   C= Cum (Anything to do with cum basically …)

Euryale adores feeling the evidence of lovemaking.  Yet, nothing is as delicious to her as a kiss with her lover’s taste upon her lips, or her own taste upon her lover’s.  Trading flavours in an intimate kiss is the perfect ending to any night.

   D= Dirty Talk (Pretty self-explanatory)

Dirty talk is not Euryale’s strong suit, or particularly to her tastes.  Her lovers can rail her into the next century, but they’d better not dare degrade her like some backstreet prostitute.  If one is to speak dirty to Euryale, they’d best make it sound like they are addressing royalty.  Euryale will accept nothing less.

 E= Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

She’s over 200 years old.  Euryale has done most things at least once.  She knows what she likes, but she’s never done things with a mortal she genuinely cares about before.  For that, she relishes the experiences with her seemingly mortal girlfriend as if they are new.  This makes her seem less experienced than she truly is, at least under a certain woman’s touch.

 F= Favorite Position (This goes without saying.)

Euryale couldn’t answer that.  Some days, she simply wants to be held down into the mattress and taken violently, like an animal in heat.  Ironically, this desire seems to align with the seasons.  Otherwise she simply wants ride her girlfriend, trying to hold eye contact as long as possible, fists clenched around the knives stabbed into the headboard or wall.

 G= Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc?)

Euryale is as serious as a heart attack. She will not suffer a lover laughing at her.  That said, something about her mortal has her want to be a little playful.  Her knives always cameo, usually stabbed into the furniture as a handhold as the little mortal rocks her world.

 H= Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc?)

Waxed.  Kept completely bare.  Euryale likes her sensitive skin exposed and smooth.

   I= Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect …)

She tries.  Truly, Euryale tries to be romantic.  Sadly, many of her partners seem to find her intimidating, or are too distracted by her knives to notice.  Strangely, it is her little mortal who seems to find Euryale’s behaviours endearing, happy to kiss any knife brought to her face with a dreamy expression.

 J= Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

Euryale is very experienced with herself.  She enjoys teasing herself, stroking and enjoying the feeling of her smooth, sensitive skin beneath her palms until she can’t wait any longer.  This is perhaps one of the only times that Euryale will stay quiet, squeaking and moaning behind a hand clamped over her mouth.

   K= Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Knives.  Anytime Euryale can have her knives involved instantly revs her engines.  Seeing her partner kiss the length.  Freezing the blades so their chill will rile up her girl.  Creating handholds.

   L= Location (Favorite Place to do the deed)

Chairs are good.  The perfect place to ride her Girlfriend’s fingers, using her own back to shield anybody from laying eyes on her precious mortal.  Wherever that chair is sitting is completely irrelevant.  Though, she’s noticed her Girlfriend prefers her apartment.

   M= Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going?)

Her girlfriend. The woman is so unimaginably beautiful, carved by Hephaestus to show the world the true meaning of Lust.  But she is so gentle and sweet too.  She looks at Euryale’s quirks with this perfect quirk of her lips that has the Gorgon unable to focus on anything but the memories of the things that mouth can do.  The sweet kisses and kind words that fill Euryale’s heart. These romantic emotions are so new to the Gorgon. Sometimes, they overwhelm her until the heat burning in her body needs to be released.  Its then that Euryale pounces.

 N= NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Incest.  No mommy kinks. No stepsister plays.  Calling Euryale “babe” is the fastest way to have the Gorgon leaping off her girlfriend’s lap with an indignant shriek.

 O= Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Euryale is an excellent giver.  Oral with Euryale is an experience many mortal women would die for.  However, Euryale herself is nervous about receiving, not because of embarrassment, but for safety reasons.  Euryale loses her mind receiving, and often forgets how strong she is when she clamps her thighs.  A traumatic experience with crushing a mortal’s skull has let her hesitant to let someone she cares about go down.

 P= Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc)

The name of the game is passionate.  Euryale is fire, hungry and demanding from the first moment.  She’s borderline primal, all growls bites, hard movements.  Euryale is the most devoted worshipper of her lover’s body.  That animalistic intensity is tempered into a thorough claiming of every single inch of her girl’s body. Even with a husk to her voice, Euryale will snarl her praises, refusing to let her girlfriend think she is unappreciated for a single moment.  One might say that Euryale’s energy in bed is that of someone who has been edged to the point of fury. Euryale wants to feel worshipped, just as she wants to worship.  She has a goddess in her bed, and as twitchy as Euryale can be, there is no way she will disappoint.   Nothing but her lover’s requests will tame her.

Euryale’s girlfriend however is gentle, soft hands guiding Euryale instead of trapping her.  Letting Euryale wear herself out, all the while feeling that she is loved and valued.  When Euryale settles enough to surrender, it is slow and gentle, coaxing Euryale slowly into every crest of bliss.  The girlfriend is all too happy to use her body, to cover Euryale, blanketing her as the Gorgon sobs into her neck.

   Q= Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)

Euryale is happy to shove her girlfriend into a chair and demand hands beneath her dress.  She is happy to ride to a fast orgasm.  Or shove her hand down the girl’s pants and drag a climax out of her, and a second for good measure.

   R= Risks (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

Their very relationship feels like a risk.  Euryale’s body has the strength to crush and destroy her girl if she loses concentration for a moment.  Everything new they do is planned, often by her Girlfriend.  However, if her Girlfriend steals the marble cuffs, then Euryale is trusting enough to try anything.

S= Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last …)

Days.  Euryale can go for literal days when it is just sex with an equally ungodly partner.  Emotionally, she can go hours before she burns out mentally.  Her girlfriend stops when Euryale’s mind disconnects, not wanting just a body.

 T= Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Yes.  Euryale has access to the ungodly monster category of toys, along with her Aura.   Her girlfriend has a more chaste collection of electronic toys.  Combining them on Euryale is a fun weekend.  They help compensate for her girlfriend’s mortal stamina.

 U= Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Euryale doesn’t.  If she wants, she takes.  And takes, and takes and takes.  Not that her girlfriend complains, afterall, this is what they agreed to.  In fact, the unintentional tease is that her girlfriend is always expecting Euryale to pounce.

 V= Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

In private, loud.  Euryale has no qualms about growling into her girlfriend’s neck, drawing out scream after scream to the point neighbours have called the cops on them in the past.  Soundproofing the walls has helped a little. Not entirely.  Maybe because Euryale has stabbed the walls too many times.

   W= Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Euryale’s girlfriend adores Euryale’s nose.  She continuously presses kisses or attempts to nip at the tip to Gorgon’s nose, both in sexual situations and just everyday playfulness.

   X= X-rated thoughts (let’s see what’s going on in their head)

Half of Euryale’s day is spent remembering the feeling of her girlfriend’s fingers inside her, knocking those perfect spots, thumb pressing into her clit.   How she wants to take her girl, press her into the walls, palm at her perfect ass.  Squeeze.   Going any further leads to situations, and Euryale can’t afford those until her girlfriend is off the clock.

   Y= Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

24/7.  Euryale is one snap of her girlfriend’s fingers away from a turned-on mess.

   Z= Zzz (… How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Euryale holds on as long as she can, wanting to spend time snuggling into her girlfriend’s back and shoulders.  She will, without fail, stay awake until she is positive that her girlfriend understands how deeply loved she truly is.  Even if words don’t work, gentle kisses and nips, tender brushes of hands across her hips and body.  Once her girlfriend is asleep, Euryale will eventually drift off with a content smile across her lips.

The missing Tarlos scenes from 2x06

Word count: 4.8    Read on ao3

.......

“You know you need to tell him this, right?”

“No, no, I really don’t.” TK protests loudly, by banging the frozen bag of chickens into the counter, hoping they will shake loose with the excess force he is using. Carlos lifts an eyebrow from where he is standing in boxers and an old tank top, too much skin on display for it to be good for TK’s health, cutting onions into small, stupidly neat pieces on the chopping board. 

“TK….” Carlos begins, in that voice of his and TK turns around, eyes flashing.

“Carlos.” 

Carlos huffs.

“Babe, this is clearly bothering you, and taking it out on our poor dinner isn’t ideal.” He points out.

“Oh, sure Carlos, I’ll just tell my dad that him having another kid is a terrible idea because I’m a prime example of how they messed up with the first one.”

“TK…” 

“Oh and while I’m at it I might as well bring up how I am feeling about it and make it all about myself like I always do, that ought to go down really well.” He snaps and Carlos sighs. 

“You don’t make everything about yourself.” TK lifts an eyebrow and Carlos snorts. “Okay, sometimes you do, but often not without a legit reason and this is definitely a situation I feel you’re entitled to feel whatever it is that you’re really feeling and express that.” 

“Okay, well if we’re on the subject of telling parents what we really think then why don’t you take a page out of your own book and tell your parents that you have a boyfriend, oh, or better yet, the way you’ve been feeling for years about them refusing to acknowledge that you’re gay.” As soon as the words leave his mouth TK regrets them and he winces at the wounded look Carlos sends his way at his harsh words.

Fuck. 

“That’s not the same thing.” Carlos mutters, he sounds bitter about it and were it not for the deeply thoughtful look also making its way across his features TK would take the words back immediately.

“I could have gone about that differently, sorry…. But, but isn’t that exactly the same thing as this is though.” 

“We were talking about you.” Carlos points out in an attempt to deflect and TK just chooses to let it go because he doesn’t have the energy to have an argument about two different things at the moment. His head is enough of a mess as it is. 

“My point still stands, talking to your parents about all the ways they have hurt you is fucking hard, okay?”

“Yes, okay I will agree with you on that.”

“And if you really want to make this all about me this time then fine. Try telling my dad, Owen Strand, Captain of the 126, adored by his crew, envied by even more, hero, cancer survivor, the list could go on for a long time Carlos, yes try telling that person that oh yeah by the way dad you neglected me as a child and now I have both abandonment issues, self esteem issues and a constant fear that no one is ever going to love me because I am not worthy of it, that will go down real well.” 

He hits the bag three more times against the counter and lets out a triumphant sound as the frozen chickens finally rattle loose inside and he turns to hold it up to Carlos, a sly little smile at the corner of his lip, because his tactic did work even though Carlos had doubted it would. Carlos isn’t smiling though, he’s frowning, concern written all over his face, eyebrows pinched together and TK drops the bag in confusion.

“What?”

Carlos puts the knife down and takes the bag from TK, throwing it lazily, without looking in the direction of the kitchen sink before he steps up close, wrapping his arms around TK and pulling him close. TK lets out a huff of air, taken aback by the fierceness of the action. 

“I hate it when you do this to yourself…” Carlos starts and TK sighs, wraps his arms around him back and nods against Carlos’ neck, can’t help but breathe him in, feeling the calming effect of it already working through his system. 

“Sorry.”

“No, no don’t apologise.” Carlos leans back and TK looks up to meet his stormy eyes. He opens his mouth but he isn’t sure what to say. 

“I love you, okay? So much and I wish I could hit that into your thick skull sometimes but I can’t, so I’m just going to have to spend every day in this relationship proving that you are indeed worthy of love and no past damage or mistakes will change that, okay?” TK can only nod, his throat suddenly thick with emotions he doesn’t know how to express.

“With that said, you’re not very good at keeping things bottled up, especially not for a long time and especially not something this big, so you should probably really think about what you actually feel about this whole situation before you choose to do that.”

“Judd said I was jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Yeah, something about me wanting to push the baby down a well or something because I couldn’t handle not being the only child anymore.”

“He said what now?” TK chuckles at Carlos’ incredulous look and he shrugs.

“It was some biblical reference I don’t know. Prodigal son?” 

“Oh, like Cain and Abel, like a lesser known older brother and the jealousy that stems from it because it’s natural to resent the baby because you’re scared it’s going to take your place.” Realisation dawns on Carlos’ face and his eyes light up like they always do when he gets to talk about things he knows, which at times is a surprisingly big amount of random shit.

“Yeah, yeah, exactly that.” TK says sarcastically, gives Carlos a curious look.

“What? I read.” He shrugs and smirks proudly. TK hums. ”Well Judd is good at a lot of things, maybe giving advice isn’t his forte.”

“And yours is?” TK lifts a challenging eyebrow. 

“I am an excellent advice giver, I’ll have you know. The issue isn’t me, the issue is everyone else and no one listening to what I’m saying.”

“Oh, so you have a lot of experience then, giving advice?” TK bites down his smile as Carlos glares without heat.

“I chased Michelle around for years when she was getting in trouble searching for her sister. I definitely have a lot of experience.” TK chuckles and leans up to kiss his nose. It wrinkles adorably and TK’s heart tugs in his chest. He loves Carlos so much.

“I love you too, so much. And I’m sorry for bringing up your parents again, that wasn’t nice of me.” TK apologizes and Carlos nods and watches back with quiet brown intense eyes.

“It’s okay, you were right though.” He grudgingly admits. 

“Maybe, but there is no pressure, as I’ve said you can take all the time in the world that you need to figure it out and I’ll support you either way.” He promises and Carlos gives him a soft beautiful smile.

“Thanks.” Carlos whispers, grateful and TK nods, and gently starts scraping his knuckles against Carlos’ scalp, pulling at his curls in a way that makes his face soften immediately, eyes falling shut in contentment and his arms tighten around TK, breathing heavily. His reaction tells TK that Carlos feels really comforted by the way he is touching him and that he needed it more than he let on.

TK has always responded well to touch, Carlos picked up on that a lot quicker than most, but it’s also not uncommon for Carlos to like it as well. He just doesn’t always express it, so TK’s taken to doing it when he senses it’s something Carlos needs, while not always being aware of it himself. It’s these small gestures TK’s learnt, that you do for the other person and that they do for you that love really is. 

Carlos’ eyes are closed and he’s letting out soft sounds of pleasure, it’s distracting as hell, and it’s making it even more difficult being this close to him and not kissing him, so TK does because he feels he can’t not do it, and angles Carlos’ head down and captures his lips in a searing hot kiss. As always when they kiss like this, starting out soft, but then growing with intention and heat, the slowburn of arousal starts to make its way through his veins, electric energy flooding his system. Only Carlos has this effect on him. 

When Carlos reaches to grab at his hair and then bites at his lip it makes TK whine and chase after him when he moves back. 

“Dinner, remember?” Carlos reminds him, but with his curls standing up unruly and his pupils dark with want, it’s very hard for TK to remember the reason why he can’t skip dinner all together and eat Carlos out instead. Carlos huffs and his hands tighten around his sides like he can read TK’s mind.

“After dinner.”

“Is that a promise?” TK asks slyly. 

“Yes.” Carlos reassures and the slow self satisfied grin tugging at his lips is fucking obscene and TK cheekily grabs his ass in retaliation. Carlos knows the effect he has on him. 

“You know cooking in boxers can be a fire hazard.” He points out.

“Good thing I know an excellent firefighter then.” He says and kisses TK hard on the lips before he steps away, walking back to his mostly finished chopped up onions, giving TK a very nice view of his ass in the black tight boxers he’s wearing. God, his boyfriend is hot as fuck.

The rest of the evening is so nice in fact that for a moment he doesn’t think about his parents or the baby, or anything other than how much he loves Carlos and how lucky he is to really have him in his life.

…….

TK unlocks the door to Carlos’ place, throws the bag towards what he hopes is the direction of the shoes, and puts his keys down in the bowl by the door, where Carlo’s are already lying. He steps inside and almost jumps out of skin when he sees his boyfriend sitting on the stairs, frowning and very clearly waiting for him. Most of the lights are off and it casts his features into stunning relief, even when angry, Carlos is too good looking for his own good.

“So, you heard?” TK gulps and Carlos nods.

“Yes, yes I did hear, from the group chat, but not just that, every goddamn news station in the state is covering how two firefighters jumped through a minefield to save two boys that were hurt.”

“Well, only one of them was hurt.” TK shuts his mouth when Carlos levels him with a deeply unimpressed look and he takes a slow step forward and tries again.

“In my defense, I am certified and I was qualified to do it.” TK stops, draws in a sharp breath, backtracks. “Are you mad?” 

Carlos lets out a deep breath, and his features soften slightly before he shakes his head, scrubs a hand through his face and when he looks up his eyes are wide and sad.

“No, no, of course I’m not mad. Just extremely worried.”

“Oh?” TK asks, feels confused, scrambling to catch up with the change, having been expecting that Carlos would be upset with him. Carlos huffs and opens his arms and it’s all TK needs for him to take a few steps forward before he sits down between Carlos’ legs, wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling him close. Carlos plants a kiss in his hair, and tightens his grip around TK, almost unconsciously starts stroking his hands down his back and TK lets him, can’t push away the guilt that’s come on so strong, mixing badly with the elevation he’s also feeling after the day he’s had. But when his boyfriend reacts like this it can’t help but leave an acid taste in his mouth too.

“I’m not sure whether I want to never let you leave my arms ever again or brag to everyone that I am for sure dating a hero.” Carlos says and were it not for the slight tremor of his voice that he tries to conceal, TK would laugh. 

“I wouldn’t mind never leaving your arms.” He admits because it sounds appealing, especially now, when adrenaline is starting to make way to exhaustion instead. 

Carlos huffs. 

“You’d get bored after a day or two.” He points out and TK shakes his head.

“You underestimate the excellent sex we do have, I’m sure I could be convinced for three days or so.” Carlos laughs, but then one of his hands wrap around TK’s wrist, feeling out his pulse, comforted by the steady thumping of it. TK lets him, allowing himself after the hectic day he’s had to tuck his face into the crook of Carlos’ shoulder and neck to breathe him in. They both have different ways of calming themselves down when the other one is near and on certain days they need it a little more than on others. 

“Your pulse is beating insanely quick.” Carlos points out after a while and TK hums against Carlos’ neck, gives himself a moment before he detaches himself slightly so he can look at him. 

“Adrenaline.” He shows Carlos his hand that’s still trembling slightly and Carlos’ eyebrow pinch in concern.

“I’m sorry -” TK begins because he really does hate it when Carlos is sad but Carlos shakes his head and interrupts. 

“No, no, this is on me. I know you have a dangerous job that sometimes requires that you take risks, I just wish they didn't have to be this big, a minefield, that’s just insane.” TK nods, he understands.

“But also really cool.” He can’t help but let slip out, eyes alive in excitement and smirking. Carlos snorts and pokes his nose, a little hard maybe, but only a little.

“Yes and designed to give me a goddamn heart attack, you know I’m not even 30, by this rate I’ll be going grey before I hit 35.” He points out, gives TK a look that speaks volumes about how offended Carlos seems to be over that. He laughs and reaches for Carlos’ hair, tugging gently on it.

“I think you’d suit grey really well to be fair.” Carlos wrinkles his nose in distaste and it’s so adorable that he can’t help but laugh again and Carlos distaste slowly melts into something much softer and he sticks his tongue out instead like a mature 26 year old that he is. “And if we’re pointing fingers, remember that hostage situation a while back where an office was shot and I thought it was you because you wouldn’t answer your phone?” Carlos winces and he looks momentarily guilty about that because TK had been so fucking worried he could barely even do his job that day and when Carlos hadn’t answered by the time they were both off shift TK had lost it a little bit. 

“Not my finest moment.” Carlos admits.

“No, so don’t go pointing fingers.” But he’s mostly joking even though that day had been scary as fuck, he so very much understands Carlos’ worry today, he really does. Carlos hums.

“How was it then?” He asks and TK bites at his lip, trying to figure out how to word everything. He turns towards Carlos and sits up on his knees, bringing him eyelevel with him and wraps his arms around his neck. Immediately Carlos’ hands come to rest on his waist, his fingers slipping underneath TK’s jumper to trace skin. 

“It was incredible, well the minefield aside which was scary for sure, but after that I’ve been feeling like I’ve been on this incredibly long lasting high ever since.” Carlos lifts an eyebrow at the metaphor and TK shrugs sheepishly. 

“Yeah, but it’s an apt metaphor for the feeling. I guess I haven’t felt good like that in a while.”

“No?” Carlos asks and there is no trace of judgement or anything in his voice, just kind and curious eyes looking at him. TK nods.

“The only other times I’ve felt this kind of high is you know actually getting high and when I’m with you, I guess the job’s been missing that spark for a while.” Carlos smiles and leans forward to plant a kiss on his nose.

“I’m not totally sure about comparing this relationship to a high.” He points out and TK snorts.

“I’m not, I’m comparing the feeling. Being with you is like pure happiness you know? I feel, just, like I’ve never felt before and even when it’s tough it’s worth it because I love you so much and I know deep down that you love me too and I never don’t want to spend my time with you, so yeah, the feeling is addictive for sure. I really just love you.” He goes quiet and Carlos' eyes have softened and he’s met by a look of pure love and a breathtakingly beautiful smile breaks across Carlos’ face before he pulls TK close and kisses him softly and slowly, making TK’s toes curl inside of his shoes. 

“Fuck.” Carlos whispers against his lips. “I love you too, so much.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Carlos says with adoring eyes and voice full of love before he runs his hand through TK’s hair and gently pulls him close, kissing him hard on his lips again. It’s TK who pulls back though making Carlos lift an eyebrow in surprise because it’s unexpected for TK to be the one to do this, so before TK can chicken out he blurts out the words.

“But I might have done something stupid…”

“Oh?” Carlos asks, amusement dancing in his eyes like he’s totally expecting it. 

“Yeah, I might have handed in my resume to Vega for the position to become a paramedic.” He rushes the words out, hates the silence between them and can’t help but feel ridiculously nervous all of a sudden waiting for Carlos' reaction. Carlos opens and closes his mouth a few times then shakes his head.

“Okay, wait, I think you need to back up a few steps here so I can follow.” He says, confusion evident in his eyes. But he’s giving TK an encouraging look at TK takes in a deep breath.

“The minefield was not fun and the thought of what could have happened to me and my dad while out there was really scary. I’m not trying to take massive risks anymore, not when I have you to come home to.” Carlos smiles, lovingly, and gives him an encouraging look spurring TK on. “But I knew someone had to get to the kid and with the help of my dad and Vega that I could do something about it, so I volunteered. And the elevation afterwards, that all came from saving the kid. It just… it felt really good to save someone, to be the one to actually do it.” TK confesses loudly for the first time since his shift ended and he in the spur of the moment added his name to the pile in Vega’s office, and saying it makes him feel a little calmer than he has ever since walking off the field. 

“Oh, okay.” Carlos says, not fully understanding yet what TK is trying to say, and yet being so patient with him, waiting for TK to figure it out. 

“I don’t know, I sometimes feel like I’m not doing enough in the field, like I could do more... and while I also know that’s not the case because every day we all go out in the field doing our best together. But I think I’ve been carrying this with me for a while now, it’s just that this year has been a lot, and even when there is a pandemic going on people still forget to turn their stove off, and they get into car accidents or have their cats escape up in trees unable to come down. The world hasn’t stopped, it’s been moving and I’ve been moving with it without having the time to reflect a lot on myself and the job. But today, I don’t know, I felt like something just clicked while out there and when I could really help him...I guess, I really liked doing it.” TK blushes because he’s been ranting and he’s averted his eyes but they move back to Carlos by their own accord and Carlos’ eyes have cleared from all earlier confusion, instead understanding has taken over and he nods his head thoughtfully.

“And that’s why you handed in your resume? Because you want to continue doing it?” Carlos fills in and TK nods biting his lip.

“D-do you… Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“It’s not up to me to tell you what to do babe, but you know what?”

“What?” TK asks, hanging onto every word he’s saying. 

“I think you’d be good at it.”

“Yeah?” He asks, hopeful, and Carlos smiles.

“Of course, you’d be amazing at it, if it’s what you want.”

“It is yes, it’s what I want.” TK says with certainty. It’s just clicked, like all that has been shaking loose and upended recently inside of him finally settle a little more.

“Then yes, it’s an amazing idea. You’re going to be so good.” Carlos grins and TK melts because while he doesn’t depend on Carlos’ approval for this it’s so nice to see him be actually happy for him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Carlos promises and TK releases the breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding and his own face breaks into a relieved smile. 

“I think I could be good at it too.” He confesses a little shyly and Carlos beams and pulls TK slightly forward, his forehead resting on his and everything just settles for TK because nothing beats this, nothing beats Carlos. 

“I’m proud of you.” Carlos says and TK can’t bite down the smile. But it falls off his face after a moment and he moves back, looks a little unsure again.

“I might have done something else that wasn’t very smart.” Carlos huffs, lifts an eyebrow, so ever patient with him.

“What did you do now?”

“I didn’t tell my dad…” He trails off and Carlos grimaces but then a look of determination takes over and he shrugs before he gently grasps TK’s face between his hands, stroking a thumb lovingly along his cheek.

“Well, you know what I think?” TK shakes his head. “I think it’s not any of his business really.”  

That surprises TK to be honest and he lifts an eyebrow.

“W-what? I mean really?”

“Yeah, I mean maybe you should have told him before you just went and did it, but it’s your life and not his. And as long as you’re not doing it for someone else then it’s not really his choice to make.”

“I’m doing it for me, it’s what I want.” Carlos’ lip lifts in a proud smile and he nods.

“Good.”

“But, what if he’s not happy?”

“I don’t think he will be unhappy, maybe a little surprised and maybe give him a moment. But if he knows you like I do, then he will realise it’s a good thing.”

“Okay, I hope so.” TK musters up a wane smile, still can’t push away the spikes of anxiety about the conversation he’s going to have to have with his dad. But it can wait, for a little while at least. 

“You know Vega is going to bust your ass right?” Carlos jokes, eyes full of mirth, smirking and TK snorts.

“Yeah, yeah I know.”

“I remember when Michelle started training under her, the stories she would tell me, Vega is badass and she taught Michelle who is also a badass, I’m expecting she’s going to do the same to you.”

“I’m already a badass.” TK reminds him and Carlos chuckles. 

“True, I think she will do you some good though. Challenge you and allow you to really thrive under her, she has that effect on people.” TK nods.

“It’s a tough job…”

“Yeah, but as you said, you’re already a badass, you’re going to do great.”

“It will be nice to be the paramedic, rather than calling one.” TK says and it grows a little more serious between them. 

“I mean -” TK clears his throat at Carlos’ silence. “I have experience of being on the other end and I know what it’s like being helped. I guess a part of me is looking forward to doing the helping.”

“I see, well you care so much about people and if you get a chance to show that, to show them this.” Carlos' hands move to cover TK’s heart and it flutters in his chest, warmth spreading to every cell of his body and he smiles shyly. “Then, well, you’re going to be very good at it.” TK bites his lip and nods.

“It feels… I don’t know, just right.”

“Good, that’s amazing.” TK doesn’t know what to say but he’s grateful, more than how he knows to express at the moment but in the way Carlo’s face softens, maybe he can read between the lines.

“Have you talked to Owen about the baby yet?” TK groans, can’t help but glare, the moment between them broken suddenly, like a bucket of ice cold water has been thrown at him, and he moves his head away, hiding in the crook of Carlos’ shoulder and neck and nibbles at his skin making Carlos chuckle, twitching in his arms.

“No, not yet…” He says though, voice muffled by Carlos’ skin. 

“Well, do you want to talk about it?” TK sighs but takes his head away and meets Carlos’ eyes. 

“I feel… I mean I am happy for them of course but...” He bites at his lip, hard and Carlos reaches forward with his thumb to gently stroke it over the swollen redness making TK stop the action. He takes in a deep breath instead.

“But they always do this, and I don’t even think they are realising it, but they get so single-minded and focused on themselves that they forget everything else. The fighting isn’t fun, I’ve been in the middle of it and I know how lonely and unwanted you can feel when it happens. What they’re doing, it feels like they are just falling into the same patterns as before without even realising that they are, and it’s not going to last if they do it that way.” 

Carlos looks thoughtful and TK feels annoyed and frustrated because he can’t help but think it makes his parents feel so irresponsible and it’s hard to come to terms with that because his parents in their own right are extremely competent people, it’s just when together, they aren’t always. 

“I support you, I always will and your feelings here are valid and to be worried is honestly a sign of growth.” Carlos begins.

“Oh, you're calling me mature, that’s unusual.” TK jokes, changing the subject.

“I mean you’re definitely a hot mess, a terrible terrible driver for sure.” Carlos easily fires back.

“God, did Judd text you?”

“And filmed some of it. This is why I’m never letting you drive my baby.”

“Hold on, I thought I was your baby, and here I find out you have someone else on the side?” Carlos’ arms tighten around him, biting his lip, the smile threatening to take over. 

“What can I say, I really like that car and I paid a lot of money for it.”

“It’s a terrible car for making out in.” TK reminds him and Carlos smirks, reminded of the few times they’ve gotten frisky in it. 

“True, still not letting you drive it.” He teases and TK glares. 

“Rude.”

“Maybe, but I care too much about the possibility of my greying hairs to get here sooner than I’d like to, to get into a car where you are driving us.”

“Well I might be a paramedic soon, so at least you'd be with someone where your odds are fractionally better if you were to get in an accident.”

“Still not letting you drive it Strand.”

“Worth a shot.” TK laughs and Carlos smiles.

“So, do you want dinner or?”

TK shakes his head.

“No, I’m good, but I’m getting too old to sit on my knees like this.” He grumbles and shifts to get the blood running again. Carlos chuckles and makes it all the easier by just scooping him up in his arms. TK yelps and Carlos grins, delighted by the sound. TK wraps his legs around Carlos’ waist, tightens his arms around his neck.

“Please don’t drop me.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it baby.” Carlos reassures grinningly. “So, bed?”

“Bed.” TK agrees.

He lets Carlos carry him up the stairs and into the bedroom, feeling so safe in his arms, that whatever conversation that’s waiting for him tomorrow with his dad, doesn’t matter as much anymore.

Okay so I had a thought! Could you write headcanons for Twice, Spinner, Toga and Shigaraki (separately) with an s/o who randomly sends them heart memes? Like one day they’ll wake up and see that their s/o sent them a some meme to let them know how much they luuv them. 💕

This is cute!! I’m only doing three for now, so I’ll leave poor spinny out because I’m not entirely confident in how I write him ;;n;; I’m sorry, lovely!

Twice, Himiko, and Tomura with a s/o who randomly sends them heart memes!

Twice:

Loves it. If you send just one and that’s all, even that will make his entire day and put a spring in his step.

And if you send one for Twice to wake up to, no matter how he woke up, he’ll be a hundred times happier. It hits the hardest when he woke up not feeling well or didn’t sleep the night before, but he always appreciates it.

But sending them randomly throughout the day? Good heavens he’s swooning. He gets giddy and has major puppy energy every time he sees one, and depending on who’s around he’ll rave about how sweet you are for doing it.

You can bet on your life that he’ll send them back. In multitudes. He’ll subconsciously make who can send the most into a contest you honestly have no chance of winning. It’s not that he thinks of it as a competition.

He’s just never had someone do this for him before; it’s new, it’s exciting, and it makes him really happy. So naturally he’ll send some love back!

It doesn’t matter if you’re across town or sitting next to him on the couch, he’ll send them to you whenever and wherever he feels like it. And he loves to send some for you to wake up to, as well.

Twice doesn’t care how much the others make fun of him for being so mushy and geeky with you. He couldn’t care less what they think about it, so it’ll never slow him down or stop him from indulging with you.

Himiko:

At first, she’s confused. It’s not something she’s ever been exposed to, so at first she just looks at it and doesn’t text back or respond about it.

She’ll eventually get used to it after you explain the purpose of the memes, and after a while she’ll start replying with a plethora of hearts and lovey emojis. Lots of them. And a few knife emojis. A several “few.”

It takes Twice telling her she’s being selfish and unappreciative of how sweet you are for her to start sending them back. She’s ridiculously physically affectionate, so showing affection in the form of memes never really struck her as something to do.

But on the other hand, she can’t not show appreciation for the absolute cuteness that you are. It’s just not in her stitching.

Even though she’ll start sending the heart memes back, Himiko won’t usually send her own without you sending any first. Hell, she won’t even open the one you’ve sent her until she’s got another at the ready to respond with.

It’s not like she needs permission to send one, but she needs a little nudge (more like, a reminder that this is something the two of you do).

On nights Himiko can’t sleep, though, she’ll completely bombard you with heart memes while still hoping she doesn’t wake you. It’s because you’re on her mind and she can’t think of anything else to do that won’t wake you.

Tomura:

Tomura would never admit it, but it always puts a pep in his step when you send him a heart meme. He’ll be a little cranky (but not with you; he’s just pouty) if it wakes him up in the middle of the night, but he zonks back out and will wake up in a better mood later.

He’s not entirely sure why he enjoys it so much. He’s more of a physical affection-giver, but doesn’t mind receiving verbal affection from you - or visual, in this case. But responding is not something he’s adept at.

Absolutely will not let the others see what you send him, though. If the others saw this gushy side of him, he’d never live it down and Tomura just can’t afford that as the big baddy villain leader he is.

But, if the cat does somehow get out of the bag I’m sorry but where the hell does this phrase come from , he won’t deny it or shy from it. Yeah, he has a girlfriend who likes to send him heart memes and be cutesy and silly and sweet. So what! Dabi’s a pyromaniac and Spinner’s a Stain-wanna be - let him have this!

He’ll often send you a heart or two back if anyone is around, and if you try hard enough you can eventually get him to send some of his own heart memes with a lot of encouragement.

Tomura isn’t ridiculously verbal when it comes to affection; he’s more of a physical type. That’s one reason why he needs a bit of a push before he’ll send them on his own.

He still one send as many as you, but he still relishes in yours like it’s all he has of you. Send one while sitting next to him - or better yet, while you’re cuddling - and you’ll get a cute deadpan out of him.

Volume 1, Chapter 14-Matchmaker

Content warning: knife

After tonight’s first try of love making, if it were anyone else, they would be extremely tired and cover up with a blanket to sleep, dead to the world. However, Shen Qingxuan had never been a light hearted person, his thoughts had always been heavy. In the past, even if he drank a soothing concoction, his sleep would be troubled. Tonight, his body and mind were both exhausted, tired to the point that he could not even open his eyes, but he still slept shallowly. He only had weird dreams for the entire night—in his dreams, he was being chased and did not know what kinds of evil spirits were behind him, gripping their sharp and shiny knives, wanting to kill him. In his dreams, though, his movement was actually agile, madly running without pause. He was so crazy happy for his own lithe legs that he more or less did not care that there was someone who wanted to kill him. Just as he was feeling happy, the scene suddenly changed. He did not know how he returned to that ice cave from long before. All around him was bone chilling ice. Both of his hands were clinging to a piece of ice, his skin even stuck on it, relying only on that stuck layer of bloody flesh to support his entire body. He knew that as soon as he slipped into there, he would never be able to stand up again; he also dreamed about his mother who seemed to be in his bedroom, holding his newborn younger brother and calling him little darling. He wanted to go over there to pull her away, but the room was pitch black, nothing could be seen. There was only the faint smell of sandalwood coming from his mother and wrapping around them, not dispersing……The whole night was full of these kinds of bizarre and motley dreams. Shen Qingxuan had the night sweats, he could not tell if he was awake or sleeping until even the night sky outside the window had turned a faint white before he fell into a deep sleep as his mind drifted, finally free.

This slumber lasted late into the morning, the sun even moved to high noon, and he had not even woken.

He had never ever been one to overindulge in sleep. His personal maidservant had brought a water basin and toiletries bright and early outside his door. In the past, before the sound of her footsteps had a chance to near the door, the clear sound of the brass bell would ring out. Therefore, she could not help but feel suspicious and also worried about his health. It was really just that, as chronic invalid of many years, if he had anything happen to him, she would not be able to shoulder the responsibility. So she quietly pushed open the doors to his personal wing and entered.

-

The girl joined the Shen family when she was five years old, and originally attended to Mother Shen personally. At the time she joined, she was young and sweet-looking, and also possessed a clever but eloquent tongue. Mother Shen had never taken her for an average servant to order about. When she saw that her own son had become withdrawn after his incident, she sent her to Shen Qingxuan’s quarters, thinking that she could be a companion for him. If there was a child around him to keep him company, perhaps his temperament would improve somewhat. Gradually, the girl grew into her blooming maidenhood. Mother Shen concluded that she would understand the bigger picture, and as a person, she was humble and good-natured, so she got the idea to giver her as a concubine to Shen Qingxuan to have a son or half a daughter. Although they would be born by a slave girl, they would still have the Shen family blood.

This idea of Mother Shen’s was known by everyone in the manor, therefore, as a servant girl, being in this room was not the same as usual.

Shen Qingxuan was also quite aware of his mother’s ideas, however, he really had no impure thoughts towards this girl who had grown up with him. He had also thought of clearing this up before, but could not find a suitable time. Moreover, the girl had attended to him these dozens of years after all, and could be considered a person he was close with, so it would not be good to hurt her feelings. He knew that he was withdrawn, too. He only grew up together with her, as master and servant, and was a little bit more pleasant to her so it was even more impossible for him to hurt her feelings with a hardened heart. So he had always pretended to not know.

The servant girl had not realized Shen Qingxuan’s intention to decline, merely believing it to be Young Master Shen’s thin skin. Plus, as a girl, it was untoward for her to verbalize it, so this matter kept getting put off.

In recent years, Mother Shen would pull the girl for some secret chats, and during their conversations, this matter would be included in the agenda.

Although she would be a concubine, this would also be the first time that Shen Qingxuan’s room would have an additional person, which counted as a happy event. The date was then set for after the year, without any discussion with Shen Qingxuan. But the girl knew in her heart so her words and actions had some added shyness and reservation, which meant there was some more impropriety as well.

-

She pushed open the door. Inside the room, the air was serene, and in the ray of light, some dust floated. It was still, without the sound of people, there were only fragments that were ripped into snowflakes covering the floor, as if it was declaring that inside this room, there had once been a tempestuous ripple. Upon seeing the fragmented pages all over the floor, the servant girl’s heart skipped a beat. After all, Shen Qingxuan may be withdrawn, but he never showed his anger or joy. Something like ripping books would be even more out of the question, and had never happened before.

She gingerly stepped over the fragments towards the bedside. The bed curtains were down, the scene inside vague and not very distinct. One could faintly see that the shape on the bed had no abnormalities. The man on the bed breathed regularly, deep asleep. He was totally unaware of her arrival.

-

The serving girl steadied her mind, reached out her jade-like hands, and raised a corner of the bed curtain. She swept a look inside them out of the corner of her eye, and scarlet immediately surged onto her rosy, oval face like a delicate but dazzling peach blossom during the third month of the year.

That bed was a complete mess. Wrinkles spread out in all directions on the embroidered brocade quilt, marks which were quite obviously wrung up by hands. In the air within the bed curtains, there flowed a scent that was hard to express yet instinctively made one’s face red and heart pound. Even more, the light teal quilt cover had a white stain that was already dry. What happened here before was quite obvious.

The servant girl turned around, wanting to escape, yet she suddenly halted her feet, thinking about this bare and untamed mountain. Moreover, there was only Shen Qingxuan on the bed. How could something so debauched happen? Even if it was a secret affair, this villa did not have any serving girls with prettier appearances than her. After a moment's hesitation, she carefully uncovered the blankets on Shen Qingxuan to check.

Shen Qingxuan did not think that there would be someone who would run into this scene. However, he was careful by nature, and after finishing, he struggled to put on his clothes by himself before he laid back down. His energy was not sufficient and he rarely did this himself, so his clothes were disheveled, but still intact. The serving girl only thought that the young master’s inner robes were inappropriately messy, yet she did not discover any major flaws. Then, with a flushed face, she also pulled up the quilt a little bit around Shen Qingxuan’s legs and peaked out of the corner of her eye. She only saw that the clothing was all on before she immediately put it back down. She thought it was because Shen Qingxuan had become lonely during the night and it was a result of playing with himself. But at the bottom of it all, her heart still had some suspicions. After all, the marks on the bed could not be made easily by a paralytic like Shen Qingxuan.

She really had no way to guess, so she closed the door and withdrew.

-

Shen Qingxuan had no awareness of this. This was the first time in how many years that he had slept so deeply that he did not even feel someone nearing his bed. When he opened his eyes, it was already noon and he could only feel that his body was fatigued and sore. It was a weariness that he had not felt in a very long time. That was a weariness that only came after he went hunting in the wilderness for a whole day with his father when he was a child. It had already been many years since he had experienced this sluggishness in his body and he even felt two parts novelty, as if he had come alive again.

He lay for a moment before he raised his hand to ring the bell for the maidservant. He rested against the head of the bed, using the tea water to clean his eyes, and then dipped into some green salt to rinse his mouth with before he washed his face and ate something. He lay back down on the bed again and closed his eyes while he thoroughly combed through the previous events.

He thought that naughty snake was truly too naughty. He did not know if he was like that by nature or if he was only mischievous like that towards him. If it was his natural disposition then that was that, but if he was only mischievous toward him——Shen Qingxuan’s face flushed red, burrowing into the covers. He had not sent for someone to change the bedding from the previous night, so it was still covered in stains, as if the scent was still there, utterly tantalizing.

He worked himself into a frenzy until he remembered that pair of eyes he had last seen, as cold as an eternal iceberg, letting him simmer in anxiety while he stood lofty and motionless. Thus his mood became dejected and he lay down for a while longer, dazedly wanting to sleep again. May impetuousness be the only thing left in my dreams, and nothing else.

-

When he woke up again on the second day, he recovered most of his energy. He sat back on his wheelchair, bent over the table, reading and painting, his face a picture of calmness, not revealing a thing. The maidservant attentively waited upon him to the side, simply unable to find a trace of a clue.

She did not understand that the Shen family’s eldest son standing in front of her now was no longer the same master from before. Two consecutive days of his body feeling peculiar reminded him at every moment that there had once been a night of debauchery. So debauched it was like a pipe dream. In his dream, he was loose and without shame to the point that even Shen Qingxuan himself did not wish to remember.

However, after a night of restlessness, Shen Qingxuan’s mood clearly recovered. The anxiety and dejection from before disappeared altogether as if washed clean away by that night’s tide of passion like a furious storm. Of course, all his hopes and needs had once been satisfied to the greatest degree. Thus, there was nothing to weigh upon his heart, he could be free of any distracting thoughts again, and peacefully carry on with his mortal life.

When there was no one around him, Shen Qingxuan would also reflect on this earlier agitation and his current tranquility. He could not help but suspect, Could it be from being alone for too long, causing an imbalance of yin and yang that made me repressed to this point? How else could he explain why he received carnal satisfaction and that squirming wild beast in his heart went right back into hiding.

Shen Qingxuan was formally considering the matter of marriage.

-

There was not a man who enjoyed being pressed beneath another man. Shen Qingxuan knew that he was not born as a cut-sleeve. He thought about when he was a young boy and how he had even vaguely admired a distant elder paternal cousin. He did not remember her voice or appearance anymore, but he still remembered as a little six year old, when his papa had joked about setting up a childhood arranged marriage and his embarrassed yet eager feeling—an age of ignorance, young and tender, not knowing anything. Even if they were teased by the adults, it could not equal the immediate delight he felt when he saw her.

At that time, he thought a wife as beautiful as a flower, senior officialdom and nobility would be his life. No matter what happened, his feet would most definitely be on a correct and grand path.

But now the more he walked this path, the more strange it became. Shen Qingxuan could not help but scoff as he thought about how very odd it was. So he had dealings with a yaoguai, alright, and he even touched upon the delight of Longyang, moreover, it was extremely enjoyable.

He was truly happy. Although it was his first time, jarring and out of sorts, it could not compare against his willingness. Even seeing Yi Mo’s face could cause an unlimited happiness and joy.

But it was not like he was foolish, he could not even pretend to be dumb. He could see Yi Mo’s reluctance with just one look. He did not untie his belt. As soon as he sent him to his peak, he withdrew and left, his attitude high above and aloof. Rather than calling it love making, it was much closer to charity.

What’s more, one was human and one was yao, one had intentions and one had none. The distance between their worlds was large enough for him to willingly admit defeat. He was well aware that he did not have the power to bridge this immense chasm. There were some things that even yao were powerless to do, much less humans.

-

Ever since that night, it had been many days since Yi Mo visited again. Shen Qingxuan’s appearance contained a smile, looking with ease through the window at a bright and blooming thicket of flowers and plants in the courtyard while he counted the days in his heart. His birth date was nearly here, and he was about to leave the mountains within the next two days. Every year around this time he had to return to the manor to reunite with his family. Then he will simply return. In the days to come, he will marry a wife and have sons, be his Shen family Eldest Young Master, be a very ordinary, insignificant mortal. And not admire that snake yao he could only see, but never catch up to.

It was also odd that when he thought of this he did not really feel much sadness. There were only some feelings of loss, as if there was an empty place in his heart. Yet he was not sad and not happy, it was like he had resigned to his fate.

Five days later, Shen Qingxuan sat in the horse carriage while the servant boys followed behind, picking some wild foods. His personal maidservant accompanied him, sitting inside the carriage, and the carriage man drove the purplish red horse, shouting. The party of people mightily set off down the mountain. On the way, Shen Qingxuan lifted the door curtain and turned back to look. He only saw that mountain top that towered into the sky get further and further away, further and further away. At last, he only saw the verdant mountain peak, one half of it immersed in the heavens, one half was blocked by the nearby scenery. Shen Qingxuan looked for a very long time before he decisively and resolutely let go of the fabric curtain, sitting properly again, his body following the rolling of the wheels, lightly rocking. The depths of his eyes were as placid as water, still not wavering at all from beginning to end.

-

The Shen family residence had just been renovated last year. The curling eaves, new tiles, and eight zhang tall fire wall were still snow white, although a year had passed. There was not even enough time for the weeds to grow in between the walls, roof, mortar, tiles, and eaves. A picture of cleanliness and splendor. The horse carriage followed the road eastward along the firewall, and then advanced for a moment more before turning to the southern side door with a moon-shaped door arch. A newly painted pair of vermillion doors opened inwards. They were currently wide open, with two lines of neat and well-dressed servant boys and servant girl’s standing next to the doors. At the head, stood the old steward who had come to greet him dressed in a green shirt and robe.

The horse carriage stopped and the maidservant lifted the carriage curtain. Shen Qingxuan sat inside while he cracked a smile at the old steward. Then he extended his hand, resting it on the old man’s shoulder while also calling over two manservants to support him as he got out of the horse carriage and sat on the rattan sedan chair.

There was naturally someone to lead away the carriage horse to feed on fodder. Four servants carried the bamboo sedan with Shen Qingxuan on it, passing who knows how many courtyards, halls, verandas, and passages. They only lowered the bamboo sedan once they arrived at the courtyard entrance of the main hall, and switched to a wheelchair, which was pushed by another servant. The wood wheels rolled over the sleek and cleanly polished pebble-paved path and passed another two courtyards before they finally entered the main hall.

Master Shen as well as the madams and relatives were all waiting in the hall. Only when a corner of Shen Qingxuan’s crescent white robe peeked out from behind the trunk, did they put down their tea cups and go up to greet him.

-

Shen Qingxuan resided in the southern courtyard, and after eating dinner, he passed through the garden before reaching his little building. All the candles had already been lit inside the small, nan wood building and the interior furniture and decor had been completely changed, not dirtied by a speck of dust, twinkling with a clean shine. It was no longer the simple small room of the mountain villa. Instead, it was designed as a multilevel building, and even the bedroom had three doors. The innermost room was, of course, Shen Qingxuan’s, the middle room was where the personal maidservants slept, and the outermost room was for the nighttime maidservant when they needed to boil water to refill the tea.

Shen Qingxuan had become used to a simple lifestyle, and at first, returning home to over-elaborate etiquette was still a little hard to adjust to. He was annoyed internally, however, he did not express it externally. He called for someone to wait on him as he washed up as early as he could, and rested right after he finished.

He woke early the next morning and said his morning greetings to his father and mother. When Shen Qingxuan arrived at Mother Shen’s room, he stayed afterwards and discussed marriage matters with her.

Mother Shen knew early on that he had no desire to take a wife, so she had originally abandoned this idea, thinking that she would just find a maidservant for him and that would be it. Who knew that this time, Shen Qingxuan himself would mention it. In her happiness, she first went in front of the Buddha to burn three sticks of incense, and also kowtowed, saying “Buddha’s blessings” all the while. Then she summoned someone to call for Shen Qingxuan’s second mother, to discuss together the important matter of Shen Qingxuan’s marriage. Which family’s daughter was of a suitable age, which family’s daughter had a suitable temperament, and so on.

Shen Qingxuan only smiled and wrote on the paper, All these decisions are up to you, mother.

The pair of sisters discussed for a moment before Second Yiniang suddenly said, “Xuan’er, that maidservant in your room, have you thought about how you want to deal with her?”

Shen Qingxuan blanked then he immediately knew she was mentioning his own personal maidservant. After thinking for a brief moment, he agreed, writing,

That’s fine, too.

-

Three days later, the matter was finalized. The other party was the young lady of the Wang family in the same city. Her childhood nickname was called Hui Niang. She was just 16 years of age and their families were well-matched in social status.

The Wang family used to be a large and influential family, and although they were already in decline now, at the end of the day, a lean camel is larger than a horse. On top of that, the Wang family principles have always been proper. Young Lady Hui was also a respectable girl from a notable family and they had previously seen her appearance, although it was not one that could sink fish and fell geese, it was still gentle and amiable. Mother Shen then invited a matchmaker to act as an intermediate and immediately sent over betrothal gifts and money. The wedding day was set for next year after mid autumn. As for that maidservant, it would be better to marry her over and add her to the family sooner rather than later, after all, she had been by his side since childhood and long ago accompanied him by his pillow side. Just in case the young lady of the Wang family was someone who could not tolerate others, she could at least have some higher ground and not be bullied.

As for the day to take in the concubine, Mother Shen decided, “Since there will be the festivities of a birthdate, why not add to the happiness.”

The marriage date was then set for the day of Shen Qingxuan’s birth. Use a small sedan to carry that maidservant in through the side door and it would be counted as giving her a minor title.

These words were passed onto Shen Qingxuan, and he remained smiling, still replying with the same sentence, It is all up to mother to decide.

The matter of taking a wife and concubine was thus settled. From beginning to end, Shen Qingxuan did not at all let himself think about that elegant and unmatched person on the mountain again.

~~~~~

……don't look at me TAT, going to stop apologizing about lateness bc i don't want to associate more negative feelings with translation, but just know i feel sad and sorry when i miss deadlines……anyways, please enjoy this (rawdogged-unedited-by-another-pair-of-eyes) chapter. next chapter in three weeks on August 1 (fingers crossed) bc it's super long too………………………