lav

posting my little daydreams she/hers aquarius sun, piscis moon, leo rising (side blog) c. 2000

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so tonight that i might see [clark kent’s north star]

a smallville (mostly) canon-compliant Clois fic (ao3)

season four: fade into you

season five: five string serenade

season six: into dust

season seven: bells ring

[smallvilleandclois]

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the fact that he makes it a point to toss that cookie in the trash as disrespectfully as his smallvillian kent manners will let him lol

[3ch0locator]

clark should be the biggest wifeguy to ever wifeguy

lois this. lois that. lois is investigating this story. did you read lois’s piece on that conflict? it’s really articulate. lois was actually talking with me about that yesterday. well lois does have a pulziter prize.

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i just realized this is literally how i write him even when he’s trying to convince himself he isn’t in love with her lol.

his smallvillian stream of consciousness is just:

oh i can’t stand lois, she always has to be right about everything, and yeah i know she usually is, but does she have to rub it in my face every single time? not that i don’t like it when she does it, but sometimes im not wrong, and does she notice? wait she did? is she looking right now? does she… would she like it if i kissed her?

[anoukfreesoul]

Ragebaited so hard now i have to marry you

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so tonight that i might see [clark kent’s north star]

a smallville (mostly) canon-compliant Clois fic (ao3)

season four: fade into you

season five: five string serenade

season six: into dust

season seven: bells ring

[slayerbuffy]

GILMORE GIRLS 5.03 | Written in the Stars

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someone said lorelai and lois are the same person ver similar font, and i can’t unsee it now

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O.G. Lois and Clark banter <3

I'm obsessed with every version of them

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

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not pastelpinkflowers commenting on the smallville fanfic that i’m writing now omg

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playing Interpol’s Pioneer To The Falls at the end of the episode when it’s clear Clark and Lana are past the point of no return is truly one of the best things i’ve ever witnessed

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the reality is that Clark couldn’t let go of Lana until he was entirely sure they weren’t meant to be.

he held her so high in that damn pedestal, that when he came to face her bad side, it just didn’t align with what he thought he knew about her, so it all came crashing down (well that, and the fact that they couldn’t trust each other).

compare that to Lois, who bulldozes her way in: the good, the bad, and the even badder (bc Lois Lane is never ugly) first into every room. he came to love her flaws, before her good qualities even had time to punch him in the arm

[smallcloisville]

@wallofville I tried executing your idea...hope you like it 🫣

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been working on Smallville 6x13 "Crimson" episode from Clark's pov and most of my chapters are like 1.8k, maybe 2k words, but holy shit this baby is 10k words?? and I'm not done?? I've been working on it all week, it's like the gift that keeps on giving or whatever

if anyone's interested, I've completed s4 from Clark's pov and am editing/posting s5 on ao3.

Clark Kent's North Star

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I'm so so sorry

hello there! I know I know, I fucked up. I got a little too ambitious in my story telling, I had a whole idea and feel for what I wanted for this story, but the truth is I lost my drive to continue it. I'm not sure why, i just got whammed over the head by writer's block and the harder I seemed to try to push myself to finish it, the less I was capable of it.

I refuse to give up on it entirely, bc I'm not a quitter, but I have my heart set somewhere else at the moment...

Which leads me here! I fell in love with the Superman (2025) film, which led me to watching the entirety of the Smallville tv show , which led me down a clois rabbit whole where I kinda wrote a smallville!clois fic from clark's pov? and I posted it on ao3?

TLDR official hiatus on There'd Better Be a Mirrorball, babes, I'm sorry. but I wrote a smallville fic?

(in case you're interested)

Fade Into You (13485 words) by naboowitch Chapters: 10/10 Fandom: Smallville Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Clark Kent & Lois Lane Characters: Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Martha Kent, Lex Luthor, Lana Lang, Chloe Sullivan, Jonathan Kent, Shelby | Clark Kent's Dog, Alicia Baker Additional Tags: clark pov, clark reminiscing, thinking about lois, First Time, Meeting for the first time, kal-el thinks she's cute, My First Fanfic, scared of the curse ngl, but I wrote the whole thing already, loophole if I just post the whole thing?, anyway, Not Beta Read, wrote seasons 4 and 5 already, he swears he won't miss her, wants her gone but is also like wait what if she never comes back, Virgin Clark Kent, Bottom Clark Kent, Slow Burn, Canon Compliant, mostly - Freeform, Overthinking!Clark, Canon Clana, Complete Summary: After he had completed his fill at the sight of her, needing only seconds to memorize every feature and molecule on her face and commit the frequency of her voice to his memory– but staying rooted in place to stare at her a bit longer as she paddled on about her long drive from the last big city she was at– he reluctantly announced his departure, standing up to leave the room only to have her push him back by the shoulders. Logically, Kal-El knew that she could never move him from his place if he really didn’t want her to, yet there was something instinctively natural and amusing about allowing her to manhandle him and push him back wherever she led him. While Clark would’ve scoffed at her attempt to boss him around, Kal-El couldn’t help but find the beautiful human endearing. — Moments in which Clark finds himself thinking more and more about the loud-mouthed army brat with a disdain for authority. (Season 4)

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There'd Better Be a Mirrorball | Azriel x OFC [part fourteen]

Summary: Eowyn finally opens up and apologizes, although not to he, who cannot bear the sight of her without the license to speak to her as he wishes to

Word Count: 7.3k+

Warnings: yearning, heavy angst, cursing, verbal attack, talk of MC death, brief talk of suicide, cis-heteronormative talk of reproduction,

Minors, do not interact

a/n: buckle up babies, this is a chunky one. also i apologize for the lack of az content, its was necessary for the plot. also apologize for the archaic female=baby producer talk, it was painful but i got through it. also there's probably a ton of mistakes, ill fix them tmr!

part thirteen

Masterlist

"If I was where I would be

Then I'd be where I am not

Here I am where I must be

Where I would be, I cannot"

Karen Dalton, Katie Cruel

NESTA POV

“Quicker! C’mon ladies, pick up the pace!”  

Nesta’s mate wasn’t one to be quick to anger.

That was a fact known to any who crossed his path, even those that were technically his people—the Illyrian generals and soldiers that hated him and reduced him to nothing but a bastard—knew that the Commander’s humor was just as dominating as his skin was thick, and if she was completely honest with herself, the few and far between instances where the priestesses managed to piss him off were incredibly amusing to her.  

And while most of the time Nesta would be quick to side with the priestesses to further annoy her mate and see that glint of promising darkness flicker in his eye when they caught hers, she found herself agreeing with his growing frustration as the murmuring among the priestesses continued throughout their morning session. 

It wasn’t uncommon for there to be light chatter as they worked out, in fact, it was an essential part of their training, but to whisper among themselves as they practiced their Valkyrie breathing techniques? Talk about disrespect. 

A growing sense of unease filled Nesta as she considered what they could be talking about. It had only been a few days since the Dinner of Nightmares, as she’d begun to mentally call it, and although the drama that unfolded had completely overtaken Nesta’s night, she didn’t think it had been quite as loud as to be whispered about so openly during their session, considering all the parties involved were currently keeping to themselves, attempting not to talk to or make eye contact with one another. 

Nesta had rushed to console Gwyn That Night, not before sending Cassian off to retrieve Emerie from Windhaven, only to find Gwyn completely shrunken within herself. It had taken Nesta a long while to convince Gwyn to let her into her room, and twice that amount to be able to break the silence Gwyn resolutely demanded— a long silence filled with the occasional sniffle that was only broken when Emerie stepped into the room to find Gwyn lying on her side, head resting on Nesta’s lap as the latter ran her fingers through her hair and Gwyn tossed tissue after tissue on the floor. 

With Gwyn’s permission (and occasional addition to Nesta’s story), Nesta told Emerie everything she had missed in the last few days she’d spent away at “Windhaven,” though they all knew she was spending time with Mor. 

Although no one but Gwyn knew the extent of Eowyn’s episode, Nesta and Emerie were overall aware that Eowyn had fallen ill, and that Gwyn had taken days off from her training to look after her.  

Nesta filled Emerie in in broad strokes, on how Eowyn told them she’d told Azriel about dinner and about his willingness to join. She admitted she herself hadn’t been aware it was a double date until right before dinner, having not been privy to the conversation between Eowyn and Gwyn, and how it all came to head when it was revealed that Azriel had attended dinner under the impression that he would be having dinner with Eowyn. 

Nesta didn’t reveal to Emerie how suspicious she herself had been of the entire situation. How try as she might to find even the subtlest slip from Eowyn’s countenance of any sort of displeasure or jealousy, she had been entirely and resolutely calm and peaceful. 

Now she wondered if she had mistaken cold detachment for that neutral tranquility. 

As was expected, Emerie was confused and dismayed by Eowyn’s actions but inquired no further when Gwyn began to sink further into herself at the mention of her deceit.  

Not long after Nesta’s brief update about the drama that had unfolded did She, The Unmentionable Herself, appear at the doorframe, slinking in just enough to linger in a fashion much too alike one of Azriel’s shadows that for a brief second, Nesta wondered how she’d never noticed that about her. How she seemed to almost slink from one place to another as if merely floating soundlessly above the floor, her long robes trailing after her like a chain of smoke. 

On any other circumstance, Nesta would’ve allowed herself to linger on the thought that perhaps the morose little provocateur was just perfect for the equally mysterious Spymaster. 

“Gwyn,” if there was something Nesta admired her, it was that she could be quite direct when she set her mind to it, even if she had severely fumbled their entire evening, “may I speak with you?” 

“No.”  

Gwyn left no room for argument and to her credit, Eowyn didn’t push. Other than a brief lingering moment, Eowyn nodded and stepped out, but not before stopping right past their door, turning her head only slightly to call over her shoulder, “whenever you’re ready, I’ll be waiting for you with an apology and if perhaps not a justification for what I did... then perhaps only just an explanation.” 

Emerie and Gwyn said nothing as Eowyn walked away but Nesta being Nesta—having once been human (despite having reached only perhaps a fourth of the species’ average life), she was still young and perhaps not as learned in the practice of respectful space for meditation and self-collection— immediately, in a manner that only the blinding volatility of youth could provoke, chased after Eowyn, incensed and offended at her shit attempt for an apology, expecting Gwyn to come to her, when she was “ready”? As if she even deserved to be listened to?  

And with that purpose in mind, she stepped out and she let Eowyn know exactly what she thought about her. 

“And that’s all you have to say?” she demanded, pulling at her shoulder to make Eowyn face her before crossing her arms over her chest to stop herself from throttling her. 

“Gwyn doesn’t want to see me right now. I must respect that,” she spoke evenly and the way her voice was devoid of any emotion pissed Nesta off beyond anything else. 

“And what about me?” she directed her attention, “involving me in whatever the fuck that was?! Maybe Gwyn isn’t ready to see you, but I need to know why the fuck you would play with Gwyn and Azriel’s feelings like that?” 

Although most of her face was covered, the slit across her eyes allowed Nesta to see Eowyn's eyebrows furrow but her dark eyes fix directly into Nesta’s own, and something about the look of confusion in her eye irritated Nesta even more. 

Suddenly conscious of the fact that Gwyn was in the other room, she lowered her voice if only to hiss through her teeth, “you’re no idiot, Eowyn, you knew exactly what you were doing, you fucking snake. You knew damn well how Gwyn felt about him and you went behind her back and took him for yourself, didn’t you? And when it all came to a head, you what? You leave them both there to figure it out while you slink away like a coward? You lead Azriel on with your fucking dates in the greenhouse, and then turn around and encourage your friend—who welcomed you with wide open arms, might I fucking remind you—and convince her she has a shot with the male you’ve been fucking this entire time?” 

Eowyn, however, only stood in place and just... took it. Without even the slightest attempt at defending herself, or even correcting Nesta when she began to spiral off to clearly outrageous accusations, she simply stood and waiting for Nesta to stop. 

Outraged at her silence when she took a second to breathe, Nesta opened her mouth to continue her barrage of accusations and abuse only to be interrupted by Eowyn, who calmly said, “I’m not fucking him.” 

Nesta raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth once again to interrogate her about the rest of her crimes, when Eowyn spoke once again, “and no, I wasn’t leading either of them on. Not intentionally. My relationship with Azriel has always been intimate, but strictly platonic,” she looked away from her eyes then as she looked out into nothing for a moment, a strange look coming to her eye, one that was akin to confusion but settled somewhere close to doubt, before she continued, “I also didn’t mean to lie to Gwyn, I- I admit I didn’t have the courage to ask Azriel directly how he felt about her, but I didn’t consider the possibility of him not liking her enough to give them a chance, I-” the expression on her face shifted for a brief moment and Nesta saw, for the first time, a flash of pain flicker across her eyes, “I hadn’t realized Azriel still had feelings for Elain.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Nesta asked, her tone still indignant, but containing a hint of confusion, “Elain is with Lucien... Az used to have a thing for her but she never gave him the time of day.” 

“They were together,” she looked at Nesta with so much firm certainty in her eye that it gave Nesta pause, “the only reason Elain refused her bond with Lucien for so long was because of Azriel... I’ve seen them, they were in love, but now she’s with him and I thought that perhaps someone like Gwyn would be good for Azriel. I thought... I think they would be good together.” 

And the way her voice slipped from a doubtless surety into an airy sort of whimsical yet fickle manner shocked Nesta to her core, filling her with so much confusion and lingering ire that she fell into lasting silence as she searched for the words to say. 

Taking her silence as... well she didn’t know what exactly, Eowyn simply nodded her head briefly and murmured something under her breath before turning and walking away to her own chamber. If Nesta noticed that Eowyn’s usually sable eyes were slightly glossier, slightly lighter, she didn’t linger on the thought. 

“Alright, that’s it.” 

Pulling herself back from her reverie, Nesta turned discreetly to look at the subject of her ruminations only to see Eowyn seamlessly blending into the group of priestesses stretching and breathing upon instruction, before turning her gaze to her mate who sighed in irritation. 

“I’m getting sick of this—what's with the chatter today, ladies?” 

He arranged some of them around, grumbling under his breath at having to do so as if they were children that needed to be separated from his friends, but when he discovered that doing so only fed the flames of their burning hot gossip, he called them out by name, “Seriously Roslin? And what about you Ilana—alright, someone fess up, what’s gotten you all so wired huh?” 

“Hasn’t the High Lord told you?” Gwyn’s voice called out by her place next to Nesta and Emerie, and despite the rough past couple of days she’d been going through, she sounded remarkably composed and perhaps a smidge excited. “The Mother’s Alignment is approaching.” 

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” Cassian asked, although not unkindly. 

“Well, we only ever get to see the planets align every seven hundred and forty-five years, you know. Obviously, I haven’t had the privilege myself-” she started in her typical Gwyn-like way, and it was such a relief to see her come back to herself that no one bothered to interrupt her, “-but Priestess Sonya says its beautiful. The position of the planets allows for our moon to shine almost violet for a short amount of time. I read an article in Merril’s books that-” 

“We get the point Gwyn,” Nesta attempted to tease her, but her grin was so great and genuine that Gwyn could only grin back and laugh good naturedly. 

“Sorry!” she shrugged her shoulders, “my point is that each Temple performs a sacred ritual. An ordination type of thing, where we elect a priestess that becomes.... Mother blessed,” she sighed dreamily. 

“And that’s what gotten you all so worked up?” Cassian scanned their faces with a curiously upturned eyebrow, “what is it? A competition for the spot or...?” 

“Of course not,” Gwyn replied immediately, “the position clearly belongs to Clotho. We’re only excited because it’s such a grand event. Not luxurious, but-” she struggled to find the words, “celebratory. It’s.... important to us.” 

“Can I come?” Nesta asked without thinking, finding herself charmed by Gwyn’s description and wanting nothing more but to see them offer Clotho a place of honor which she undoubtedly deserved. 

“Of course!” Gwyn looked at her as if in surprise that she had to ask, “you’re all welcome. I know we’re expecting the High Lord and Lady to make an appearance,” and if Nesta hadn’t been watching her so closely she would’ve missed the quick glance she shot in Eowyn’s direction. 

“I’m sure it slipped his mind to tell us,” Cassian pacified, pulling himself away from the conversation, “alright, everyone find yo-” 

“But you will be there, right?” Gwyn insisted, and Nesta didn’t miss the way her eyes turned to Eowyn once more. She also didn’t miss the fact that the Shadowsinger himself was raptly observing the same thing she did. 

And then he spoke up. 

“We prefer not to enter the library unless invited in by Clotho herself,” Azriel spoke up and while Nesta scowled at his insistence to defend Eowyn although no one had even mentioned her, something deep down within her found it sweet, even if she drowned the feeling with righteous anger.  

“Clotho only just sent word of the arrangements to the High Lord this morning,” Eowyn spoke evenly, unperturbed by Gwyn’s intensity and Azriel’s words. “I’m sure you’ll find yourselves notified soon enough. And you two,” she turned to Nesta and Emerie, “are always welcome to join us.” 

While Cassian tried to control the flood of excited conversations that Gwyn sparked, as Emerie peppered her with questions and the priestesses all took turns describing their attire for the ceremony, Nesta kept an eye out for the two sulking storm clouds—she watched Azriel’s attention close in on Eowyn, who took that moment to take a sip from her flask of water. Azriel looked enraptured, seeming unable to look away, as Eowyn lifted her veil slightly, expertly unlatching it from the bottom with a soft click from the magnetic trim that held it in place when she made brisk movements.  

From her occasional gossiping with her mate, she’d discovered that Azriel had never seen Eowyn’s face, and being the nosy person that she was, she had no shame in admitting, if only to herself, that she often watched him whenever Eowyn unveiled her face to take a sip of water, wondering if that day would be the day he dared to look at her. 

Not once had he dared to do so, always offering her privacy but now, as if frozen in place, it seemed he simply could not tear his eyes away. 

Nesta watched him stare at Eowyn, who’s head wasn’t entirely revealed other than the skin of her neck and jaw, yet that seemed to be enough for the Shadowsinger, considering he hadn’t looked at her for more than half a second before he quickly looked away with a sharp breath. And just like that, with low murmur of something undecipherable under his breath to Cassian, he took off into the skies and flew away from them. 

Nesta turned back to look at Eowyn to find her looking after the Spymaster, a rare and brief look of regret crossing her eyes before she turned her attention back to her flask and continued on with her workout. 

A realization came to Nesta then. One that followed her through the rest of training and paved the way for a course of action. 

- 

The curious scene that had been privy only to Nesta’s eyes replayed in her mind for the remainder of their morning training, and no sooner had Cassian called out for them to finish their sets and head on out, than had she rushed to his side to say (or demand, Cassian would argue, though they both knew she merely had to say the words for him to follow at her beck and call) that he was allowed back into their bed that night. 

The news brought so much glee to Cassian that he didn’t even think about resisting her the complete and honest truth when she asked, “have you talked to Azriel recently?” 

He gave her a look that caused her to roll her eyes, already knowing what he would say. “You think Azriel’s gonna talk to anyone about his feelings?” 

“I had to ask,” she huffed, “can you take me to the River House?” 

“Is that the only reason why you want to make up?” 

Nesta and Cassian had gotten into a rather heated spat that led to her banishing him out of their room for a few nights. Cassian had argued that she should’ve known better than to trick Azriel into a double date the way they had, when they all knew damn well that he was in love with Eowyn, while she argued that she had no part to play in their damn date until she’d been roped in at the last minute. 

Although by that time she had already given Eowyn a piece of her mind, she couldn’t help but defend her as she argued with her mate, assuming that there was some reason, a significant reason for why Eowyn would throw away something that was so clear and obvious for them all to see.  

She didn’t blame Gwyn for her blind infatuation with Azriel. She had put him on an unattainable pedestal after he had essentially saved her all those years ago and had then killed everyone that had wronged her. And then her interactions with him since the beginning of training—her having discovered that he gifted her a beautiful necklace (that was supposed to be anonymous)—and him having accepted her gift with such a gallant smile and genuine thanks, was fuel enough for her first ever infatuation.  

But Eowyn.. 

Eowyn had been a true friend. At no point did she ever seem or sound jealous of the way Gwyn spoke about Azriel, leaving Nesta to wonder if she was simply a terrible judge of character or Eowyn was much too good at deceiving them all. Which begged the question: what else had the priestess lied about? 

“Of course not,” she smirked at her mate, but being too pleased that he could hold her again, Cassian only chuckled at her and swept her off her feet, not even bothering to ask why she wanted to visit her sister all of a sudden, when she typically hated to go there, and she didn’t bother telling him what wasn’t his business to know. Unless... 

“Did you know Az and Elain were together?” she asked in his ear as he flew over the streets, still high above the trees. 

He took a double take and the look on his face told her all she needed to know. “Cassian,” she reprimanded him, “what the fuck? You knew and didn’t tell me?” 

“Well! I mean- your sister didn’t tell you!” 

“But you’re my mate,” she pinched him. 

He only grinned at her, glancing at her quickly before looking before him as he began to descend, “say that again.” 

“Not the time,” she pinched him again, “I can’t believe you.” 

“Look,” he tried to appease her, “he didn’t want anyone to know. And Rhys didn’t either, I mean he was the one who told Az to back off in the first place.” 

“What!” she gasped. Jumping away from him as soon as they landed half a mile away from the house. 

“Mhm, right after Helion recognized Lucien as his son and heir, Rhys threatened Az to back off or he’d exile him from the Court. Az was...” he trailed off and at the encouraging look she gave him, he could only sigh and look at her apprehensively, glancing at the great house behind her. 

“Tell me,” she crossed her arms. 

Cassian rubbed the back of his neck, “I don’t want you to see him differently.” 

“I wouldn’t,” she promised, “not unless he hurt Elain.” 

He shook his head, “Az was... he says he was in love with her, and I think part of him really did love her, but—and I’ve never said this to him, so this stays between you and me—I think Az was in love with the idea of them being together more than Elain herself,” and when Nesta remained silent, if perhaps thoughtful, he concluded, “you know... three sisters for three brothers.” 

She remained silent for a moment, reminiscing every interaction she’d seen her sister have with the Shadowsinger. She knew of his feelings for her, and from her limited perception, it seemed like a crush that didn’t seem to grow and simply fizzled out into the back of their minds. 

“That’s stupid,” she shook her head. 

“Is it?” he prodded gently, “if you were him wouldn’t you feel... I don’t know, left out?” 

“Azriel isn’t entitled to my sister,” she defended, glaring at him. 

“Never said he was,” he raised his arms in surrender, “I’m just telling you what I know.” 

She remained silently thoughtful as they walked towards the house, but she didn’t push him away when he slipped his hand into hers and covered her from the cold with his wing as they stepped past the gates. 

After The Dinner of Nightmares, ever since that night she yelled at Eowyn, she had spent the following days observing her with a newfound perspective. Despite considering Eowyn’s faults and crimes to fall within the Epic kind of category, she had not forgotten the way she had seemed particularly exhausted lately, the dark circles under her eyes, the way she often drifted off to something or another, or the way she’s spoken so bizarrely when she had confronted her that night. 

Her impromptu visit to the River House cost her a few hours spent around a luncheon she hadn’t meant to stay for, accompanied as she was by her two sisters, their mates, and her brother-in-law's brother who was as charming as he was beautiful, but whose particular wiles didn’t work on her. 

Nesta watched her sister intently, watching as she basked in the attention afforded to her by her lively mate, who took every opportunity to praise her aloud and look at her with so much devoted attention that it took everything in her not to roll her eyes at their cheesy display of affection. 

Noting her clear aversion to their display, Eris smirked at her as he teased his brother and sister-in-law, bringing the attention back to himself as he asked Nesta about her “cute little hobby” Elain had gushed so much about. 

When Nesta shrugged and said she was doing better than him, he merely laughed and wondered aloud when he would be invited to join in their morning training, that is, unless the Commander of Rhysand’s great army felt in any way threatened? 

Holding her mate back from hurling himself across the table at Eris’s throat, Nesta managed to pacify her mate and brush Eris’s taunts away without so much as a blink of an eye. 

After lunch and as they all mingled lightly in the resting room, Nesta finally managed to single out Elain and derive from her own mouth everything she wanted to know. 

- 

Walking down the library doors had never felt as ominous or forbidding as it did at that moment, and Nesta had dealt with quite a lot when it came to the inner workings of the library. 

Pushing the eerie feeling that tickled at her neck, she gathered herself and knocked once, twice in rapid succession at Eowyn’s dark office door. She was still inside, she could see, as the flickering flame inside her frosted glass window revealed her silhouette pacing back and forth. 

The dark mass stilted briefly before she spoke out, “come in.” 

Twisting the knob, Nesta pushed her way into Eowyn’s office and immediately, the scent of Eowyn hit her: slightly floral mixed with the specific scent of something she could only describe as woodsy, almost like... the pages of an old book that had been left out on a porch in a rainy day. She didn’t smell like a garden the way Elain did, as she smelled distinctively like jasmine and honey—no, Eowyn smelled like the sweetest notes of wet soil. 

As strange as that sounded. 

Pushing her thoughts away before she started waxing poetry, Nesta looked at Eowyn head on, as she stood in the miniscule space in her office, her face completely uncovered within the privacy of her room. 

“Hello,” Eowyn broke the silence, and the way she spoke almost in question would’ve made Nesta snicker in any other occassion if she wasn’t in a hurry to get to the point. 

“I didn’t know Elain and Azriel were together,” she replied immediately, “she never told me. And he never tells anyone anything, so..” 

Eowyn grimaced, “I’m sorry if I caused you any problems by telling you... I can’t quite keep track of what I am and am not supposed to know.” 

“Yeah, about that, what the fuck are you talking about?” Nesta wasn’t going to hold back anymore... not that she had before.  

“I-” Eowyn’s shoulders suddenly slagged as she ran her hands down her face, “I’m so fucking tired of all of this.” 

Nesta raised an eyebrow and tried not to gape, not used to seeing Eowyn this way. 

“Okay,” she nodded once, “alright, well I probably didn’t start this the right way. Let’s take a seat and talk this through, alright?” 

“Alright,” Eowyn grumbled, and Nesta found herself sitting down, rather flabbergasted at the sudden reversal of roles, as she had intended on striding into Eowyn’s office with all the righteousness that the newly acquired information gave her. She had expected Eowyn to fall into step with her in her usual calm manner but this Eowyn... she was different. 

And for once, Nesta felt inclined to let her take charge and see her for who she really was. 

“Do you want coffee?” 

“What’s coffee?” 

“It’s like a type of black tea,” Eowyn explained immediately, the words almost rehearsed as if she’s said them thousands of times, “they’re grounded beans that brew in hot water. You can add milk and sugar to your liking,” she poured a dark liquid into a teacup before her before serving herself her own. 

“It was often called the drink of the Gods in older times. It’s quite hard to obtain today, and the demand for it isn’t very high. We’ve all grown quite fond of our teas.” 

“I’m not here for a history lesson,” Nesta reminded her, although she voice lacked its edge, the aroma filling her senses warmed her beyond what she expected. Tentatively, she took a sip from the dark liquid, before grimacing at its bitter taste. 

“Adjust,” Eowyn beckoned to the milk and sugar, making her own coffee by adding a dash of milk and half a spoonful of sugar. She sighed and took a seat behind her desk, “you’ll have to excuse my erratic behavior... I haven’t been myself lately.” 

“Does this have to do with you being sick all those days ago?”  

“Yes,” she admitted, casting her eyes to her desk for a moment of consideration before bringing them back to hers, “I have a secret, you see. Until now, I’ve only told Clotho and Azriel... but I expect he told the High Lord by now. I’d rather you hear it directly from me than in some kind of council meeting.” 

“What is it?” Nesta’s eyebrows furrowed. 

Eowyn pursed her lips. Looking at Nesta straight on, she took a sharp inhale before speaking, “I’m a witch. Not a very... good one, if I’m being honest, but unfortunately for me, I’m a particularly powerful one-” 

“Wait wait wait,” Nesta interrupted her immediately, “a witch? Aren’t witches extinct? Or old wretched creatures lurking in the forest to curse men and suck virgins blood?” 

“Surely you’re not afraid of witches?” 

Nesta gaped at her, and her lack of response made Eowyn raise an eyebrow. “If witches kill men and suck virgin’s blood, then you’re far from being in danger, aren’t you?” 

Nesta glared.  

“To answer your question, yes, we exist... although there’s not many of us left. Those that remain have to learn to be blend in.” 

“But you-” Nesta interrupted herself, raising a hand in the air to process everything told to her so far, and it was only the tip of the iceberg, “you said you’re a powerful one? Yeah okay, someone seems full of themselves-” 

“Trust me, I wish it wasn’t the case,” Eowyn rolled her eyes and the action seemed to pain her, as she reclined in her chair, her propped arm allowing her to rub her temples between her middle finger and thumb. “As I was saying, I come from a long line that is thought to descend directly from the Mother, who, if you didn’t know, was the creator and original wielder of the Cauldron, yes, that Cauldron—they always leave that detail out of the stories—but I digress. According to my family history, which has been made up of only male descendents for thousands of years, the... prophecy spoke of a female born to that cursed line, for the Mother’s power was so great, it was only meant to stay with her. 

“She created all life within our world— but to create something with her own power or with the assistance of a cauldron, was all together too different from actually bearing life herself—for the Mother had made a mistake, you see. She fell in love. 

“There were other forms of life, of magic, already engrained in the soil of the earth. Some call them entities, some call them nature gods, but if the legends are to be believed, the Mother found companionship with one of these gods and soon bore a different species, not unlike the fae she had created, but also not entirely different from the beldam creatures that lurk in the depths of the forests. The Mother was punished by her own magic for dishonoring her duty to create life, so as she birthed her child, the line was cursed to produce only male heirs to diminish the potency of its seed, lest a female be born to carry the power to birth and thus create life—or magic—as she pleased.” 

Nesta only listened as Eowyn spoke, the lilt of her voice soothing and calm as if she was caught in a reverie, lost in the description of her lore. Nesta was enraptured by the story, yet she was not so lost that she didn’t feel the growing sense of alarm at her revelation. 

But then Eowyn’s eyes caught hers and she didn’t look away as she revealed more—about her father’s quest to have a female child because some Seer told him his seed would bring forward The Mother’s female descendent—and how he disregarded his dozen children in favor of the power he believed Eowyn to bring him. 

Nesta learned that she had been named Oracle at birth—the name an intangible ball and chain, a designation and a reminder of her lack of will—yet Eowyn had always been headstrong and intelligent, even as a child, and before she was a mere decade old, she had renounced the name and bade everyone to call her Eowyn. 

Her brothers—those that tolerated her presence—called her Wynnie, while the rest (and her father) called her by a name she did not want and could not embrace, for she wanted nothing more than a life of her own. She didn’t want to be subjected to a role, to be considered an idol, a mere symbol for followers to project their wishes and pleas, and consequently, their hatred and blame when she could not oblige them. 

She wanted to be a person. One with opinions, both right and wrong, she wanted to have friends she could laugh with, to make memories with, wanted to have people to talk to, to cry with and fight with. She wanted to flirt and make love; she wanted to fuck everyone she wanted and be desired in return, not for her power... but for herself. 

Hence, the desire for this life resulted in the utter rejection of the one forced upon her and anything involving it.  

She admitted she didn’t know the extent of her powers, always considering them a burden rather than a gift, and as soon as she learned the way to get rid of them, she hadn’t hesitated to do so in favor of what she believed would bring her freedom. 

One of her brothers, the second-born, only a few decades older than her, helped her with this. 

After finding a way to transmit her power into something tangible, something natural and significant—something made of the natural strength of the earth with the capacity to be both strong and brittle, both dark and sharp—she relinquished her magic and left that life behind to seek her own.  

“You can’t blame me for wanting that. Or for trying.” 

“Of course not,” Nesta shook her head, “you deserved a chance at a life of your choosing.” 

Eowyn nodded slowly, “then I hope it provides you a bit of context to the rest of it. Before that, though, I just want to say sorry... I didn’t mean to throw you into the wolves the way I did, and I didn’t mean to hurt anyone by my actions—especially Gwyn. 

“I didn’t tell you my story as any sort of justification for what I did. I just hope it... provides a bit of perspective as to where my mind has been. For the past year, I’ve been plagued with a heightened storm of visions and voices. You see, although I- well, essentially locked away my powers —I couldn’t rid myself of them entirely, as some remnants of it lingers. 

“For years now I’ve been almost void of anything—of my power, yes, but also of any connection with life. In the past year, my visions of past, present, and future have increased, my need for horticulture has intensified, and I often feel as if I am not within my own body. I joined the morning training thinking it could help me form a routine for my excess stress and energy, I thought I just needed to do something to get myself out of the growing madness, but all I’ve done is get involved with- with- these feelings that I don’t even know how to recognize anymore.” 

By now her tone had shifted from a sincere yet collected plea for understanding to a desperate woe. Her dark eyes fixed on Nesta and despite Nesta’s fortitude, despite the iron will that allowed her to look at the King of Hybern in the eye and spit in the face of death, she was caught like an animal in a trap as Eowyn’s eyes met hers. 

“Can you imagine feeling nothing for decades and then being hit all at once with all of these overwhelming emotions? At first, it was simple. The feeling of fondness for you, for Gwyn and Emerie, and even Cassian, was easy. It came as second nature. But then Azriel slinked his way in, and- and for a long time I tried to convince myself that he was no more special to me than any of you were. There was nothing in particular that set him apart from you all, except that everything set him apart. 

“From his way of knowing me. And his manner of trying to understand everything he didn’t already know as if I was the greatest unresolved riddle,” she chuckled at that, but as her eyes dropped to the wooden floorboard, Nesta noticed her eyes filled with unshed tears. “as if he hasn’t seen more of me than anyone else without even seeing my face once... as if I was still worth knowing at all...” 

“Eowyn,” Nesta began, for although she didn’t approve of the way she’d gone about the whole ordeal, she didn’t consider her undeserving of love. Quite the opposite, in fact. Although she’d always secretly thought her and Azriel made a good looking couple, she now knew there was no one else for her than the surly dark male that could understand her darkness better than anyone else. “Eowyn, you are worth-” 

“Not that way,” she shook her head, “I’ve been hurt beyond what you can imagine,” Eowyn stood up, and the way she clasped at her hands in front of her, anxiously scratching at her palms told Nesta that she spoke about that which she always left unspoken. 

“Nesta, I can—I can barely breathe around all these feelings,” she continued after a moment, still trying to gather herself as she clutched at her chest at the phantom feeling, “you have to understand, there was nothing left of me for decades. I was a shell of a person. Here, but never really present, like I had- had this helmet over my head, muffling everything around me and even when I wanted to care, I simply couldn’t, and then...” she took a deep breathe, “... and then he offered me an exchange- a transaction. Something simple and equal, and something that required no socializing to fit in, no pretending, it was just a simple truth. Just to take as much of myself as I would give him, even if it was just my age and my place of birth, and he gave me so much in return and I-” 

She swallowed thickly and Nesta had to look away to offer her a moment of privacy, the emotions on her face too intimate, too raw for her to gawk at. 

“Nesta, I-” she trailed off and when she didn’t continue, Nesta could only nod in understanding. How could it be that this person, this being that not only exuded power and knowing, but truly was a force to be reckoned with, could suffer through the same trouble she, a mere formerly human girl, had dealt with just a few months ago? 

Although, of course, Eowyn’s troubles were complex in a different way and had lasted decades and even centuries compared to Nesta’s few months of drinking and fucking in attempt to forget her change in life—alas, this bit was the same.  

She was an emotionally stunted creature that couldn’t admit to herself to being in love with, much less could detect reciprocal love, in an Illyrian warrior that would burn the world and everyone in it for just a mere moment of her time. 

So as her friend couldn’t bring herself to say it, Nesta said it for her. “You love him.” 

Eowyn evaded her gaze for the first time since Nesta walked into her office. 

“These voices I hear, those I can deal with... but the visions I got when, when the herbalist drugged me,” she began to speak so fast that Nesta couldn’t stop and ask what herbalist and what drugging she was talking about, “they kept showing me images of- of everything. Things that have happened, things that could happen, and through them I saw two possible fates for him,” she pressed her lips together and the line that formed in the skin between her eyes told her it pained her to recollect her memories, “I saw a vision of the future... of him and Elain never fully letting go of one another, despite her bond with her mate. I saw... years of yearning, of suffering, and desire shared between them until they both finally gave in,” she spoke as if it had already happened, “I saw them begin an affair behind Lucien’s back that lasted years before he ever noticed, which only happened to be after taking Helion’s place as High Lord of the Day Court, but-” she stopped briefly, inhaling sharply, “by then Lucien’s power was too great, even for the Spymaster of the Night Court, and he-and he died. I saw him die,” the way she looks at Nesta is with such an ancient primal fear and pain that all Nesta has to do is look at her to realize that the visions were not just mere images and impartal knowledge—Eowyn lived through those visions. She saw and felt everything. 

But Eowyn is not yet done. Looking away from Nesta, she continued, “for your sister... the guilt and loss was so great that she took her own life within the year.” 

Nesta swallowed around a thick ball of emotion lodged in her throat, wanting to say that those visions were only that, visions that hadn’t happened and were unlikely to happen, yet she finds herself voiceless. 

“You’ll understand why I preferred the other fate I saw. Much simpler and peaceful...” she trailed off, and somehow Nesta knows in her bones that the vision was indescribably painful for her, if perhaps only slightly less than the alternative, “his life with Gwyn... both kind and loyal individuals... perhaps different from each other, but no less understanding and loving. Azriel would be Gwyn’s greatest love, like the one she reads in her novels, and she would be his anchor, his wife and lifelong companion. She would be the star guiding him through the dark and their children-” her voice hitched, but she merely stopped herself for a second to collect herself, jaw working as she forced herself to continue, “their lives will be plentiful and beautiful and everything they both deserve.” 

And what about you? Nesta finds herself wanting to yell at her, what about what you deserve? 

But Nesta didn’t push and didn’t say all the things she wanted to say in fear of driving Eowyn back into her shell. Instead she clasped tightly onto the edge of her seat and said the only sensible thing that came to mind. “I think it’s time you spoke to Gwyn,” and then reconsidered. “That is, whenever you feel ready” 

Despite looking exhausted, Eowyn agreed, noting that she never would be ready for that conversation, so there was no difference doing it now. 

- 

In a span of half an hour, Cassian had retrieved Emerie from her home in Windhaven and delivered her safely at the library’s doors. Soon, all four females found themselves in their favorite gossip nook, each taking their place in different spots.  

Nesta stood, leading against the brick wall closest to the magically eternal fireplace, while Emerie sat on the floor, one leg extended and the other bent to rest her chin on as she leaned back against the couch where Gwyn primly sat, hands folded on her lap as she watched Eowyn intently and didn’t say a single word. 

Sitting on her own armchair facing them, Eowyn shared her full life story for the second time in her entire life. Although she omitted her jumbled and confusing feelings for the Shadowsinger towards the end, and the visions that had spurred her to push Azriel and Gwyn together without their explicit understanding of the situation, she found herself opening up about her abuse. 

At that, Nesta had walked around the tea table to sit closer, listening just as intently as Emerie and Gwyn as Eowyn spoke, never once interrupting her. 

The end of her story garnered her not only sympathy and understanding from her friends, but provided them with a different lens through which they now saw her. Accepting that change in exchange of their forgiveness, however, Eowyn took it in stride. 

It was only at the end, when Gwyn’s glassy yet still hurt eyes locked on hers. “I just have one question.... it’s been eating at me these last few days, making me feel like an absolute fool for not noticing sooner.” 

Eowyn swallowed but nodded, encouraging her to continue. 

“Are you and—were you and Azriel together?” 

Looking at each other in pain, although for different reasons, Eowyn’s eyes didn’t falter as she spoke, “no. Azriel and I weren’t together, and we never will be.”

taglist: @lilah-asteria , @a-courtof-azriel , @honk4emoboyz , @feyretopia , @mrsjna , @buttermilktea11 , @bravo-delta-eccho , @kylieinwonderland , @adventure-awaits13 , @he6rtshaker , @naturakaashi ,

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There'd Better Be a Mirrorball | Azriel x OFC [part thirteen]

Summary: Azriel attends dinner. The skies provide a bit of comfort, if perhaps not clarity.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: angst, yearning, betrayal, lying, slight deceit, Elain attempting to court Azriel, miscommunication, intentional miscommunication, conflicting emotions, Eowyn in a bad place and Azriel doesn't know what to do

a/n: its been a long minute and I sincerely apologize for that! i got busy around halloween and then with the election results I was just... too upset and disappointed to do anything. but fear not, i haven't completely lost my mojo! sorry for the delay and the slight heartbreak, i promise its gonna get better, it just needs to get a little worse (oops!), also a special shoutout to those that reached out to me to make sure I'm still alive and doing well, thank you guys so much it really means a lot to me <3

Minors, do not interact.

part twelve

masterlist

"She's been loop-the-looping around my mind

Her motorcycle boots give me this kind of

Acrobatic blood, concertina

Cheating heartbeat, rapid fire"

- Arctic Monkeys, She's Thunderstorms

He notes, if perhaps a bit absentmindedly— as he tries his very best to focus on anything but the growing nervousness in the pit of his stomach— that he’s never quite looked at himself in a mirror for this long.

His clothes weren’t too much to cry about, a simple buttoned up black shirt tailor made to accommodate not only his size but his wings as well, and his black pants were casual if perhaps a little more formal than his usual clothes. He couldn’t well go to dinner with Eowyn in his leathers.

He huffed as he adjusted the simple silver cufflinks on his sleeve, reminding himself once again that it was a casual dinner with friends in a group setting, it wasn’t a date, but the thought of sitting with her, sharing a meal with her— he wouldn’t allow himself to linger on the thought of fixing her plate for her unless he wanted his pants to tighten uncomfortably for the rest of the evening (considering he had no time to take care of the issue before dinner)— and what’s more, to possibly have the opportunity to see what she hides behind her veil made the tingles of nervousness to bite at him once again.

Fixing his hair, although he only pushed it from one side to the other and then pushed it back in frustration when it didn’t fall the way he wanted it, he pulled himself away from his reflection, figuring there was nothing more he could do and finally slipped out into the hall towards the dining area.

Before he could hear the people in the room, his shadows rushed back to him, reporting on Cassian, Nesta, and Gwyn’s attendance but not yet Eowyn’s. Figuring it was best if he came in before she did, lest she think he was late, he calmly strode in and nodded in greeting at his friends who cheered upon seeing him, already seeming a few glasses into the wine.

“Am I late?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, finding himself in a rather pleasant mood, if not to say excited.

“Just in time,” Cassian assured him good-naturedly but Azriel needed to only spare him a glance to notice there was something only slightly off about his brother. Unlike Nesta and Gwyn who seemed in rather bright spirits as they both went into the kitchen to bring more wine, Cassian didn’t seem to be drinking at all, his face a little more serene than usual.

“Surprised you agreed to this,” Cassian admitted to him when the girls were out of earshot.

“Why?” Azriel shook his head, as he took a seat, directly in front of his brother to leave them both room for their wings.

“I just.. didn’t think you were interested in her,” Cassian admitted, much to Azriel’s confusion. Hadn’t Cassian been the one pushing Eowyn and Azriel to train together, hadn’t he been the one to gossip to Rhys about his feelings, feelings he could barely even admit to himself, having been so hurt so often by his choices— and he was surprised?

But before Azriel could answer him, Gwyn and Nesta came back in, not yet tipsy but seeming just a little lighter than usual. Their light idle chatter filled the space as they set the items down, followed by the feast the house thoughtfully spawned out for them.

Nesta immediately took her seat at the head of the table to Cassian’s right, leaving her between Cassian and himself, while Gwyn sat on the one directly next to Azriel. He tried to not be bothered by it and the fact that it would leave Eowyn in the seat diagonal to him.

Gwyn grinned widely, if perhaps a bit abashedly at him as she placed the bottle down on the table.

With that action came the realization that the table only had four sets of silverware.

“Here, try this,” he looked up to find a blushing Gwyn gently stacking a small cracker with a creamy spread and thin cold cut of meat for him to try. He felt himself go pale at the forward act.

Food sharing was sacred among fae. No female shared food, especially directly feeding anyone that wasn’t already part of their families. This was solely an act of courtship, something he truly didn’t want to entertain, despite the way he’d seen Gwyn’s eyes following him wherever he went.

Azriel felt at a loss, not knowing how to proceed. What if in an attempt to spare Gwyn’s feelings, he accepted the food and gave her the wrong idea? What if Eowyn walked in and thought the same thing? But what if he disrespected Gwyn’s kind act by rejecting her and ruining the entire dinner?

Since when did he overthink things so much?

“I— thank you,” he tried to smile graciously, but both the words and his facial expression gave away his awkwardness.

His shadows flurried around him in offense at her forwardness.

He took the offered food from her, careful not to touch her as he did and took a small bite.

She watched him with wide expectant eyes. “What do you think?”

“It’s… good,” he cleared his throat to fill the silence.

“Thank you,” she blushed harder, either from his response or out of embarrassment, he wasn’t sure.

“You ladies cook all of this yourselves?” Cassian saved him, the mood lifting with his playful incredulity as he raised a suspicious eyebrow at his mate.

“We had help,” Nesta rolled her eyes.

“We?” He continued to tease, causing Gwyn to laugh lightly, eyes sparkling in glee despite the lingering awkwardness from her interaction with Azriel.

“Nesta made a beautiful layout,” Gwyn defended, waving a hand over the board containing a variety of cheeses, cold meats, and spreads. “Wynnie helped us with a few side dishes and I roasted the chicken and vegetables,” she grinned proudly.

Azriel felt his heart leap at the sound of her name. It offered him the perfect segue to ask about her.

“When is she coming? Is she alright?”

They all turned to look at him and several things happened all at once.

Azriel wondered for a brief second how anyone thought he could make a living out of noticing those kinds of things. He was supposed to be a Spymaster, for Cauldron’s sake! He was supposed to be aware of everything in every room all at once, and yet he hadn’t noticed— or perhaps, he’d  willingly chosen to ignore— that which was so glaringly obvious the second he stepped into the dining room: Eowyn wasn’t here.

Still, all he could do was gather all at once every intake of breath, the barely noticeable gasp leaving Nesta’s lips, the twitch to Gwyn’s jaw and the way her gaze dropped— every minuscule movement everyone in the room made at any given point to give away something they were hiding. Seeking what they knew.

All at once he noticed the way Cassian’s head snapped up to look at his mate, his eyebrows furrowed in a way that spoke of both accusation and betrayal. Gwyn, who was filling a plate either for him or herself froze in place and focused on the plate for a second before looking up at him with something akin to betrayal in her gaze, while Nesta merely stopped chewing on her own bite of cheese and cracker for a second before continuing her slow mastication, gray eyes set firmly on the food she was piling on her plate.

“Eowyn isn’t joining us tonight,” she said simply, all wine playfulness gone.

“Why not?” he couldn’t help but snarl under his breath and this felt much too familiar, much like when he’d snapped at Gwyn the night before as she told him Eowyn’s decision to stop training with him.

“Well, she… said she didn’t want to intrude,” this time Gwyn spoke up, seeming recovered enough to speak although her tone was more questioning than telling. He turned to her and noticed the pink tinge to her cheeks and the glow in her eye was gone, replaced by a paleness to her skin and a distant countenance. “She helped with dinner, but said she didn’t want to be a fifth wheel on our double date.”

He remained silent at that, head blank despite his boiling blood.

“I see,” he spoke stiltedly after a minute of silence.

The tension in the room could be cut with even the dullest of blades and yet there was nothing anyone could do to bring back the lightness. Gwyn, seeming recovered enough, straightened her back and jutted out her chin.  “You came because you thought she would be here?” She confirmed, although they all knew at that point it wasn’t necessary.

Azriel had made it clear to all at this point without needing to say a single word that he cared about Eowyn. Everyone knew. It wasn’t a secret he was trying to keep, he cared about her, that much they all knew. Just how much he cared, he was only starting to figure out himself.

“Yes,” he replied simply yet honestly, wanting nothing more than to get up and leave the room and possibly hunt Eowyn down and demand an explanation.

He thought back to the conversation they’d had that day, attempting to recall her wording.

She’d told him the girls were making dinner and asked if he wanted to join. He wanted to both kick himself for not confirming her presence and scold her for not correcting him when he said he’d see her at dinner. Wanted to rip his own heart out to justify the unrelenting pressure on his chest.

“You love her,” again, she stated rather than asked. 

Azriel remained silent however, and that was all anyone needed to know.

—

He considered going straight to the library and storming into her office to demand an apology, but most importantly, an explanation for her clear deception. 

After the disastrous dinner he’d been blindsided into joining (a rather brief encounter) he found himself taking to the skies instead, needing to clear his head.

He considered everything that had happened in the last few days, or rather, the last few months of his life.

He flew for hours, relishing in the exertion on his back, the soreness of his cold wings, but all he could think about, every possible thought he had, always led back to her and how she’d crept her way into his life

He’d found her…interesting at first, that he couldn’t deny. 

He’d always noticed a quiet spark under those captivating black eyes, a certain knowing look that was both thrilling and challenging in a way few dared to look at him with. She was a breath of fresh air and she was a mystery to him, and the more time they spent together and the more he uncovered the layers that made her her, the more he grew immeasurable fond of her.

He’d sworn, after his brief disappointing fling with Elain, that he would not allow himself to fall in yet another pit of unrequited love.

He’d sworn off females for the sake of his growing desperation for belonging, for a mate, and he’d given up on seeking it and trying to force it to happen with females that were either uninterested in him entirely but were too kind to tell him straight off, or were barely interested in something short while and empty.

That had not been the same with Eowyn. Mostly because his interest in her wasn’t based off of his attraction to her (at least at first) but derived from a curiosity that might’ve remained friendly if not slightly distant had they not spent almost every day together, training in the morning and as of more recently, spending a few hours together in the few and far between occasions he wasn’t needed elsewhere. 

He had subconsciously sought her out every instance he could, and while the itch to see her hadn’t come to him all at once, it was undeniable and ever present now.

While he was self-aware enough to admit that his attraction to her hadn’t spawned in a day, but through the small intimacies shared, the trust and friendship they’d built, as there wasn’t anything licentious rooted in their relationship. He hadn’t salivated after her like some kind of beast, hadn’t even considered crossing any lines with her that went beyond their respective roles as trainer and trainee, for despite the fact that priestesses in Prythian weren’t generally considered pious and virginal maidens, these priestesses were special.

This group of females resided there to stay away from males lusting after them.

Eowyn was never outwardly flirtatious and outspoken, but she was also not meek and docile. 

She was like an impending storm, she was the anticipation between a bolt of lighting and its following thunder. And like a raging rainstorm that had begun in the furthest distance, raging closer with a speed that bade it impossible to escape yet took it’s righteous time to flank him entirely, the tempest was upon him now and despite his careful precautions, he was now caught amidst its chaos and found he never wanted to leave after witnessing its splendor.

He cared not about mates, not anymore. 

He didn’t even care if she didn’t want him the way he wanted her, he simply found he couldn’t be without her. It was beyond the fact that no one truly understood him like she did, no, it wasn’t about him. It was about the privilege of knowing someone like her. 

He’d had a taste of divinity every time he was near her, and he didn’t know how he would go on if he could no longer be by her side, in whatever way she wanted him.

He couldn’t be selfish, not when it came to her. He didn’t know what had been done to her, didn’t know if she was interested in males, interested in him, but he would never expect anything of her. Not when it came to that.

In his roiling thoughts, he wondered if he’d come off too intensely in their last few meetings. He wondered if he’d scared her off by hovering over as close as he could to hear about her well-being. He wondered if… wondered if his pathetic attempt to kiss her had made her think he was an animal of a male who sought nothing more than sex.

He wondered if she cared about him even half as much as he cared about her.

With his jumbled hurt and angry thoughts that merely circled and intertwined in his mind, he found no answers to his growing list of questions and doubts. He was, however, exhausted after flying for five hours straight, and found he couldn’t feel properly surprised when the shadows he’d left behind to guard the library entrance rushed to tell him Eowyn was waiting in the greenhouse.

She sat with her legs crossed on top of a sturdy windowsill at the furthest wall, looking outside with her back to the entrance.

He bit his tongue to hold back from scolding her for it, for her lack of precaution and safety.

“You’re angry,” she stated, rather than asked. 

Not wanting to risk snapping at her and driving her further away, he remained silent.

She sighed at his lack of response and twisted around to face him, although it accomplished nothing as he noted that despite her loose hair, her face was still covered entirely so that he couldn’t even see her eyes.

“I would be too,” she continued.

“Would you,” he snarled through his teeth.

“Yes,” she replied immediately, latching onto his response, “I would. Because what I did was idiotic and insensitive—“ 

“Don’t do that,” he cut her off, “don’t try to empathize with me by putting yourself down.”

She stilled and her back straightened, suddenly looking away and he noticed for the first time that she sat next to Thelxie, and that the once bright and proud flora now dropped sadly at her side, wilting.

She turned to him fully then, legs hanging over the side, back straight and if he could see her eyes, he knew he would see them looking straight at him.

She only gave him a brief nod before speaking. “Ask your questions then.”

Again, he was faced with the closed off and cold Eowyn. He narrowed his eyes at her in disbelief, a pang of guilt and self-deprecation eating at him as he watched her put her true mask on and push him away. For a second, she’d acted like herself, if perhaps layering it on rather thick to get on his good side, but could he not even express justified anger at her clear betrayal without her slinking back into a shell of who she was?

The anger that had been directed at her suddenly turned inward and he chastised himself for it, for he knew better than to allow a blinding and useless emotion such as anger get in the way. He breathed deeply and tried to let the rise of emotions ease into a steady stream.

“Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t,” she replied, her voice cool and tempered and he realized that in the few seconds it had taken him to calm himself down, she had used that time to do the same and strengthen the walls she erected around herself. Dammit. “Everything I told you about my father— about myself, is true-“

“Not that,” the wave of anger tacked him yet he relented against it, for he’d had much time to think and he now came to realize that although she’d clearly made rather important omissions to her story, she had been truthful in everything she’d shared. Intimacy like that could not be fabricated. “You think you’re so clever, inviting me to dinner with Nesta and Gwyn and not correcting me when I said I’d see you there?”

She remained silent for a beat and he knew, without seeing her face, that she was gaping at him. “I- technically, that’s not a lie—“

“Eowyn,” he snapped.

She sighed, “I’ve no excuse for that,” she spoke quickly and sharply, “that was just me being a coward and not wanting to explain everything after training, and, well-“ she turned her head to look at her plant, gathered herself and spoke with the same speed, if perhaps a bit stiltedly, “Gwyn likes you. That’s all I would hear, every time I came back to myself from those horrible visions. She was by my side and she would tell me you were waiting outside the library walls, always so attentive and caring, and always so kind to her and anyone that would share a bit of news of your dear friend, and she asked me if I— if it would bother me if she asked you to dinner, and why would it? She’s the kindest fae I’ve ever met, she’s brilliant, she’s funny and sweet and beautiful and you deserve nothing less—“

“Eowyn—”

“-and I know I should’ve asked you first,” she nodded quickly, hands fidgeting in her lap, “I know I should’ve, but I was so weary… so tired, and I didn’t want to talk about what the herbalist said, and I just wanted you to give you both… an opportunity.”

If he thought his emotions were jumbled before, they were nothing but a mere puddle in the raging ocean within him now. “Eowyn, that wasn’t your decision to make,” he stated simply, unable to hold his words back, even as she nodded again and hung her head, “do you think I don’t know how she looks at me? You think my shadows don’t keep me aware of her reactions— of anyone’s reactions to me? I’ve been the target of people’s lust just as often as I’ve been the object of their hatred, their fear and disgust. I don’t mean to sound arrogant,” he frowned, feeling uncomfortable speaking in such a haughty way, “but if I wanted Gwyn, I would be with her. She is not the one I want.”

Eowyn gripped the windowsill tightly, her back ramrod straight. “You’re right,” she spoke after a moment of silence, “I’m sorry for deceiving you and for just— going about this all wrong. I should’ve asked you. She should’ve asked you without me being in the middle, but she thought she could trust me and I went and fucked it all up.”

“She should have asked me herself,” he found himself agreeing, listening to her breath as it halted for a beat longer, her only tell in an otherwise unmoved reaction. “That way, I would’ve been clear that I have no interest in her.”

“Right,” she murmured, sufficiently agreeably if perhaps dismissively, “are we not going to talk about the pegasus in the room?”

And while he wanted to push and prod at her to understand why she was actively trying to push him onto her friend after their own day together in the obsidian cave, he knew the subject could not be ignored for much longer. 

“Are you a witch?”

She sighed. “It’s complicated,” she pushed herself off her seat and paced in front of him, one hand resting on her hip while they other pinched the bridge of her nose, “everything I told you about myself is true, I haven’t lied about that, but—“

“Are you a witch?” He repeated.

“Yes,” she snapped, and stopped pacing for a second before she continued, “or I was. I don’t have access to my power anymore.”

His eyebrows furrowed at that, “why not?” And while he was at it, “and why didn’t you tell me?”

“Out of safety,” she turned to him and he couldn’t see her face but he knew that if he could she would be looking at him with incredulity. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t have told your High Lord I’m a witch the second you knew? As a matter of fact, why haven’t I received a visit from the High Lord?” She crossed her arms and looked around as if Rhys would spawn out of thin air.

He frowned at her. “I haven’t told him, and I find it quite offensive you’d suggest otherwise.”

“Is it?” She tilted her head, “don’t you ‘live to serve’?”

His frown deepened, not liking her tone, “don’t use my own words against me.”

“Oh that’s right,” she continued, “you needed to confirm with me first, right? Well go ahead and tell him what you want, it’s not like I’d be of any use to him anyway. I have no way to access my powers even if I wanted to.”

“Stop that,” he scolded, “stop trying to antagonize me.”

“I’m not,” she snapped, suddenly standing before him with her arms crossed over her chest, chin tilted up and he knew that her obsidian eyes were looking straight at him, “I’m simply stating the truth, and if I’m being entirely honest, I don’t blame you: having a witch at your disposal would’ve been helpful during the fight with Hybern but unfortunately for you, there was nothing I could’ve done to help you.”

“I haven’t told Rhys,” he repeated, needing her to understand that. “I wouldn’t.”

“But you thought about it,” it wasn’t a reproach, it was a statement of fact. She knew him well enough to know his duty always came first to him. He was a soldier, he was a warrior and not only was he loyal to his High Lord based on his unfaltering belief in him, but he also held an innate sense of pride in his Court that was as deep-rooted as it was repressed, having been an outcast to his own homeland. Eowyn knew him well enough to know he would have at least briefly considered going to Rhysand.

“It’s fine,” she repeated, almost to herself as if it were a mantra, “Not many… know about that. Only Clotho and now you, but I’m-” she sighed and shook her head, “I’m not who you think I am.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” He took a step forward but stopped when she took a step back.

“I just told you,” she snapped again, but it no longer sounded as firm and decisive as before. “No one knows. No one is supposed to know, and if you knew even half of what I used to be… of what they all expect me to be, you wouldn’t be having this pleasant little conversation with me.”

“Then tell me,” and although his tone was firm, it was out of desperation and need more than anger and frustration. “Nothing you can tell me will change what I know-”

“You-”

“—because I know you and don’t you dare say I don’t. I know you, Eowyn-”

“No, you-“

“I do,” he insisted, refusing to let her cut him off, “I may not know all the details of what you’ve done or what you’ve been through,” and when he stepped towards her that time she didn’t pull away, so he gently took one of her hands and held it between them, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles in a soothing caress, “but I know who you are.”

She remained silent and said nothing more for a long moment before pulling her hand away from his.

“I’m sorry… for what happened today,” she began and the way she collected herself and shifted slightly, looking over his shoulder and towards the door told him she had not and would not budge on the subject, “it was a mistake.”

taglist: @lilah-asteria , @a-courtof-azriel , @honk4emoboyz , @feyretopia , @mrsjna , @buttermilktea11 , @bravo-delta-eccho , @kylieinwonderland , @adventure-awaits13 ,

[peacefulbagofbones]

if this is about my soul, TAKE IT. i don’t want it without you.

[blurbfics]

There'd Better Be a Mirrorball | Azriel x OFC [part twelve]

Summary: Azriel frets over Eowyn's wellbeing. Gwyn delivers an unpleasant message.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: angst, yearning, self-deprecating talk, anger, worry, self-doubts

a/n: can't be a proper slow-burn without some yearning, right? sorry lovelies, we gotta go through Angst Road to get to Smut and Fluff Blvd. all i have to say is please go vote! and of course, rest in peace liam payne (rip my eternal hope that we'd see the boys together again at some point)

Minors, do not interact.

part eleven

masterlist

"But she once fell through the street

Down a manhole in that bad way

The underground drip

Was just like her scuba days

Days

Daze"

Interpol, Stella was a diver and she was always down

He goes four nights without seeing her.

Three days and four nights of prowling the entrance to the library, of having his shadows slither down to investigate and report on her progress. Three days of not seeing her, and although Cassian tried to console him with the reminder that he’s gone longer without seeing her when he goes on long missions, his brother is well aware that it isn’t the same and with a single look from Azriel, pointed and unfaltering, he doesn’t try to bring it up to him again.

All the waiting and the worrying and the asking, the begging for the smallest crumbs of information from any priestess that came into his path (that of which was usually Gwyn, who blessedly went directly to him to report on Eowyn’s wellbeing), was torture for him.

And Azriel knew torture. Knew it quite literally like the back of his marred grotesque hands.

He doesn’t sleep that night, the first night. Didn’t sleep much the other three but that first night, after the priestesses kicked him out and he was ‘persuaded’ to leave the library altogether with Rhys’s logical reasoning and Cassian’s… physical cajoling, he allowed them to move him only as far as the entrance to the library leading up to the House of Wind and then he stayed there, alone and in silence, awake the entire night. 

His shadows, finding it easier to sneak through, didn't even confirm with him before going down to look after her at their own accord before he could even think about sending them out to do it, and they stayed by her side to relate to him everything that happened to her.

That is, until he considered that what he was doing was an invasion of her privacy, so he retracted them much to their (and admittedly his) chagrin and he remained there, fretting and pacing, murmuring to his shadows and to himself. He found he could not sit longer than two and a half minutes without feeling frantic energy build within him, and sleep came to no avail. Throughout that time, he finally took Cassian’s invitation to stay at the House of Wind, if only to wash and get his meals, in the rare occasion he remembered to eat.

The second day went by much the same but he had the entirety of the day to consider not only the turn of events in the apothecary and what the herbalist revealed, but particularly her words as she was having her episodes. While still herself, she told him not to pay any heed to her words yet how was he supposed to forget her pained cries?

Her voice echoed through his mind.

“B-but I did! I swear it ada*, I did! I mended every single one of your— no no, ada, please!”

The things the shadows managed to capture while still inside only got worse in nature. The first words she had spoken in his ear, however, those words spoken in another language echoed through his mind day and night. The frustration at not knowing what they meant was driving him half insane. On the third day, after hearing from Gwyn that she was doing much better, now seeming much more lucid— he had admittedly sniffed derisively at that but made no further comment— he took to the skies and paid a quick visit to his brother.

Without any hemming and hawing he went straight to the point. “I need you to translate something.”

Rhys was quick with it, immediately breaching past Azriel’s lowered mental walls to dig his talons to peer inside. Azriel freely offered him the memory, not lingering on the details he wanted to keep only to himself, like the feel of her soft supple body in his arms, and the way she’d dug her face in his neck and inhaled, consequently bringing her so close to his face that he could do nothing but freely bask in her scent himself.

Clearly guessing where Azriel’s train of thought inevitably trailed off to, Rhys didn’t linger long inside Azriel’s head but didn’t offer the answer with the immediacy Azriel was seeking.

“Well?” He pressed in a manner that was more natural to Cassian.

“It’s a very ancient tongue. One I thought to be extinct long ago,” Rhys answered at last. “I’ll need to ask Amren.”

“There’s no time,” Azriel hissed, running a hand through his hair, “she won’t be here until next week.”

“Amren arrives today,” Rhys raised an eyebrow, his own violet eyes scanning Azriel in concern. “Have you slept at all, brother?”

Azriel dismissed him. “There’s no time,” he repeated under his breath. With shadows furling faster around him, he turned to leave.

“I’ll let you know what I learn,” is the last thing he heard from the High Lord before he stepped into his shadows back to the House of Wind’s entrance to the library.

By the fourth day, his shadows— disobedient things that they were— reported back that Eowyn’s seizing visions were becoming few and far between and she was now resting, reading and conversing with Clotho and Gwyn. After he’d made sure that Eowyn was faring better, he accepted Nesta's insistence for him to have dinner with her and Cassian, only to have Gwyn herself step into the kitchen as they ate.

He startled when the young priestess stepped in, however, heart in his throat at the thought of something happening to Eowyn in the ten minutes he’d been away. “Is everything-“

“Oh I’m sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she blushed shyly and the way she carried herself spoke of curious trepidation, not the concerned urgency he feared. She did, however, seem rather tired and he found he was endlessly grateful to her for caring for Eowyn in a way he couldn’t do. In a way Clotho hadn’t allowed him to.

(It sent a sharp shooting pain through his chest to consider that it was Eowyn herself who hadn't wanted him there; that she didn’t trust him to stay at her side after the long months of spending almost every day together, of having gotten to know each other so intimately. It was easier to blame Clotho for not allowing him to stay. The alternative left him with a feeling that was too raw and ugly to consider at the moment.)

“You’re not,” Nesta said mildly, if a touch concerned herself. “Everything okay with Eowyn?”

“Oh yes, she’s doing much better,” Gwyn assured them quickly, “she’s been reading dreadfully boring old texts all day about minerals or rocks or something, so you know that means she’s pretty much back to normal.”

Cassian and Nesta immediately invited her to sit and eat with them, which she did after a brief moment of hesitation. “I mostly just came up to let you guys know the good news and deliver a message from Eowyn saying that she’ll join us tomorrow morning, but she won’t be able to stay for training with Azriel,” she gave Azriel a quick pout as if to emphasize her point. He chuckled lightly at the sight, feeling a heavy weight lift off his shoulders at the certainty of seeing Eowyn the following morning. The pang of disappointment that shot through him at not being able to see her during their session together was immediately quelled by the reminder that she still had to take it easy and recuperate after such a dreadful episode– which inevitably led to the reassuring thought of spending that time with her anywhere else for the day, taking care of her if she allowed him to. “For some time.”

It took him a second to understand.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Gwyn swallowed nervously, “we were talking about training and how she’s doing much better now. Remember Cassian? When you mentioned last session how she can start training with Em and Nesta and I? And well, she-“ she continued to ramble, speaking quickly, “well she thinks that since she’s pretty much caught up now, she doesn’t have to stay after and train with you anymore.”

“She doesn’t get to decide when she’s caught up,” he hissed through his teeth, incredulously, still trying to wrap his mind around her words. He narrowed his eyes, unbelieving, “and why doesn’t she tell me this herself?”

“Well she said she would, but thought it would be a good idea if I just… told you, while you're here,” she blushed again, looking up at him through her lashes. “She… well, she insisted she doesn’t need to train as much anymore.”

He pursed his lips in annoyance, but tried not to let it show as he considered Gwyn’s words, still reeling. He zoned out for the remainder of his quick dinner, too lost in his head as he considered Gwyn’s announcement, spoken with such nonchalance that he couldn’t bring himself to accept it.

Still, the more he considered that, the more he considered the way Eowyn had so viciously attacked the herbalist and the more he thought about that, the more he thought about the herbalist’s revelation. 

She said that Eowyn was a witch, and had Eowyn tried to deny it at all? Now that he thought about it, he realized she hadn’t, but she hadn’t confirmed it either. Had she lied right to his face when she talked about her abilities?

He felt his mind begin to clear now that the concern for her wellbeing was wearing off. He considered everything that had happened since he came back from his mission to find her stomping through the streets of Velaris, seeming angry and unlike herself. He hated himself for not having considered telling Rhysand about the herbalist’s accusation.

Witches were extinct. Those that were rumored to survive the Great Witch Purge, lived in the far reaches of the Middle, where they practiced all sorts of dark magic and were rumored to hate all faeries, but were known to consume their blood to be able to access their magic.

Witches were typically considered evil beings by all species, but most importantly, they were known to be extremely powerful. 

Rhysand, however, was never the type to believe the stereotypes applied to different creatures, an Illyrian and Shadowsinger like himself included, and knew better than to believe the necessary facade of dark infamy and notoriety in order to survive in this world as a powerful creature, lest they be hunted down to be enslaved and used for barbaric acts.

To have a witch under one’s control would be just as dangerous, if not more, as having access to the Cauldron itself.

Rhys had never expelled nor hunted a witch himself, but it wasn’t in his nature to outright mistreat or deny a being that could be a possible ally, as well as an equal.

For only the briefest of instances– born out of centuries worth of friendship, of fraternal familiarity, acceptance, and love for his brother– he considered telling Rhysand about the accusation made against her.

But he wouldn’t tell his brother about Eowyn, he realized grimly. Both ashamed at himself for withholding possibly valuable and integral information that could strengthen their Court and the general citizens of all of Prythian; and ashamed by even considering betraying Eowyn’s trust before he could even have the opportunity to speak to her about it first.

If he slept at all that night, it was sparse and filled with dark and tortuous nightmares of his family hating him. The thought of Eowyn hating him left a sinking empty void in the center of his being that stole all sleep and breath away from him altogether.

When he woke up hours before the break of dawn, having dreamt of her briefly, an entire audience of hers, laughing at him as he opened up and shared with her a part of himself that he didn’t think worthy of sharing with anyone else, his guilt and grief turned into simmering anger.

So when he saw her the next morning, wearing a covering that revealed only her eyes, he approached her and asked, “how are you feeling?”

“Much better,” her voice was calm and neutral, lacking both the usual teasing lilt and the anger and desperation of the last time they’d spoken. “Thank you for bringing me back to the library. And for asking for me while I was indisposed.”

The way her voice came out emotionless, formal, and cold while her eyes looked just as dark and beautiful as ever— even rested, for once— pissed him off even more.

“Good,” he snapped and turned away from her, refusing to watch as she walked over to her usual spot and decided, at that moment, to not look at her at all for the rest of the session. Still, he was always aware of her presence and as his shadows reminded him, they had not promised to look away from her, so he knew, even without looking at her, that she trained in unfaltering unison with the rest of the priestesses. 

Two things happened during that session. First was the feel of Rhys talons in his head as his research finally paid off; then came Eowyn’s impressive but entirely unsurprising achievement, for she was a natural warrior and she had made great success in the months they had trained together. 

Failing to remember his resolution to not look at her, he watched her in complete open awe– as expressive and adoringly as a stoic and unemotional male like him could show.

In an effortless and perfect stance, she stood before the pole with a familiar light-consuming obsidian dagger held in an offensive hold above her head, hips and feet positioned perfectly, knees bent at just the right angle.

At the end of that morning session, the morning after she’d had someone else tell him she didn’t need him any more, Eowyn cut the ribbon. 

While he was indescribably proud of her achievement, the act was like a slap in the face. 

As if the Cauldron or Fate or the Mother herself were sharing a laugh at his expense, her action only reinforced the words Rhys had translated in his mind earlier in the day: I will never cede.

—

After training, as all the Valkyries filed out of the training ring and back into the library– Eowyn among the last few who happily celebrated her successful cut– he called out her name.

She pretended she didn’t hear him. 

His irritation was only fuelled by Cassian’s knowing look and understanding pat to the shoulder before taking off into the skies to offer Azriel some privacy.

As soon as his brother took off, he tried to call Eowyn’s name again but despite it catching the attention of a few priestesses, Gwyn among them, who quickly turned to Eowyn and nudged her, Eowyn did not stop.

He hadn’t taken her for a coward. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Beyond annoyed at that point, Azriel sent off a few shadows to cinch around her waist and stop her from going further, even pulling her back a little.

The surprise in her eyes was brief before her face fell back into cool neutrality. The sight of it pissed him off so much, he finally understood his family’s frustration at him when he schooled his features back into place.

She waved at the others to continue without her and then turned to him, her gaze blazé and unlike her.

“Didn’t Gwyn tell you?”

“Tell me what exactly,” he bit, wanting to hear it from her.

“I won’t be able to stay and train with you after our group sessions anymore.”

It was a simple statement of fact, and the way in which she said it, so nonchalantly and unbothered, had his cool anger boiling in his veins, fueled by the hurt in his chest.

“Why?”

She looked away then, but not for long. She observed him quietly for a moment, seeming to be thinking of how to form her words. “I just… don’t think I need it anymore,” he saw it coming yet it still struck him- this time in the pit of his stomach, “the main reason why I accepted the extra training was to wear off some of the excess energy I felt, but I’m doing better now, now that it’s all over,” she waved her hand casually, as if her being so ill and delirious for days was a normal occurrence.

“You’ll have questions, I imagine,” she tilted her head and he felt how she watched him, taking him in. He wondered if she smelt or felt the anger rolling off of him, if she knew of the growing desire and necessity for her. She didn’t let him reply to her, merely shook her head, “it’s not a good time right now-“

“Don’t you dare-“

“I have a lot of work to catch up on,” she interrupted him. She looked to the stairs and sighed before turning back to him. “Are you free tonight? For dinner?”

His heart leaped to his throat, “yes.”

She nodded, “Nesta and Gwyn, they… they have a dinner planned tonight. You’re welcome to join.”

He deflated slightly at that, disappointed it wouldn’t be just them. Another thought struck him, however, for how would she eat if her face was covered? 

With a kindled excitement he managed to control, he nodded to her, releasing his shadows from her waist to let her go. “I’ll see you tonight.”

*ada is elvish for father in tolkien’s lotr’s lore. all credit goes to him. he is, of course, a great inspiration of mine

taglist: @lilah-asteria , @a-courtof-azriel , @honk4emoboyz , @feyretopia , @mrsjna , @buttermilktea11 , @bravo-delta-eccho , @kylieinwonderland , @adventure-awaits13 ,