#Gemstone imperfections

[neha24nav]

Understanding Gemstone Clarity: What Does It Mean and Why It Matters?

This clearly defines the actual quality of a gemstone and explains the clarity level of a gemstone by the absence of imperfections. Given that they are formed through heat and pressure under the earth, imperfections in gemstones are common as they develop under fantastic conditions.

Inclusions are internal imperfections in the stone: fractures, patterns, or mineral depositions. Most of the time, they are visible without the aid of a loupe. However, these inclusions require the use of a loupe to see them in some cases.

Blemish is an external surface imperfection such as scratches, indentations, or irregularities. These will affect the overall clarity of the gemstone.

[srlgemstone]

Imperfect beauty - Quartz & Moss Agate Pair

[grinchwrapsupreme]

it's weirdly important to me that for the briefest of moments during the massage scene they didn't cover up the scars on adam devine's legs

[beyondthisdarkhouse]

We really did something when we invented prism deck lights...

"Oh hi don't notice me, just your friendly neighborhood FUNCTIONAL SEMIPRECIOUS GEMSTONE"

This is a seriously underexploited aesthetic. Like yes crystals are all the rage and we've seen salt rock lamps, and there's a French designer doing some cool stuff with lighting forced through prisms of imperfect stone

but I feel like there is SO MUCH MORE OUT THERE to do!

I like all the crystal suncatchers out there, except that the crystals are SO SHINY that every so often a concentrated beam of light meanders directly into your retina. They need to learn to chill out a bit.

[anything-that-makes-my-brain-rot]

i feel like jayvik couldn’t have gotten a more perfect ending

to be honest, their whole final scene with them showing the multiple timelines in which viktor handed jayce the gemstone, where we can see them floating, where we can SEE viktor’s face through jayce’s pov when he was about to jump. it sums up their relationship: whether it’s romantic or platonic (and now fucking ASTRAL), they’re meant to be reunited and together in every single one of their timelines (“only you can show me this”).

analysis aside, jayvik nation WON with act iii!!! like wdym you only want your partner back?????? wdym his imperfections make him beautiful and a part of something you’ve always admired about him???? and you’re showing me you’d rather die together than living without one another?????

like i didn’t even need the kiss, this showed me everything i needed to see

[catcze]

I feel like Wrio would be a little nervous for his first Christmas with you because he’d be nervous if you’d like the present he got for you or not 🥺

He would !! The way he would have spent so long toiling over what to get you, too? He probably spent days upon days deciding what to get you <3

In hindsight, Wriothesley knows that it's a dumb thing to worry about. He knows that he's probably overthinking it, probably making a mountain out of a molehill.

It's just buying a gift, how hard could it be?

Turns out, when it's for you, buying a gift is very hard.

He doesn't even get why he's making this so difficult for himself. He knows what you like. He knows the things that make you smile, that make you laugh, that make you run up and embrace him from sheer glee. He knows all of these things, but the thing is, for this holiday season, he wants his gift to you to be special— he doesn't want it to be something that he would get you any other day of the year just because he could. This is your first time celebrating the holidays with you, and he wants it to be special.

And, when the day comes that you're excitedly staring at the gift he got you, he can feel the nerves crawling up his throat and his heart doing nervous backflips in his chest.

The gift he got you is a small thing— a palm sized box that he had wrapped all on his own. The wrapping is a little shoddy, a little imperfect and the paper a little crinkled and not as taut as it would have been if he had gotten it done professionally, but he wanted to do it himself. it only felt right.

You shake the box at first, gently and just a little, and Wriothesley can't help the small smile that forms on his face when you pout in disappointment, unable to hear anything from inside.

"You have to open it to find out what it is, sweetheart," he teases you good-naturedly, leaning forward to watch your reaction keenly, resting his chin on his palm as he tries his best to quell the growing worry bubbling in his stomach.

You roll your eyes in response, but you're smiling still, clearly excited for whatever it is he had gotten you. "It better not be some gag gift," you grumble to him, even though you know that Wriothesley wouldn't do that to you— he's too sincere for that. Too sweet.

You carefully unwrap the gift, only to be presented with a pretty white box with a logo emblazoned on the top. It's simple, yet elegant, and you recognize the name written on the box to be one of the most famous jewelers in the whole nation. One that's expensive and notoriously difficult to buy from.

In your chest, your heart rate picks up and there's a shock of disbelief in your system, followed by anticipation. Your jaw drops in surprise, eyes widening as you all but snap your neck to Wriothesley, who continues to watch you with rapt attention. "Well? You haven't opened it up yet," he prompts, eyes flicking down to the gift, the smirk on his face not betraying the way his heart is pounding and the way his mouth is dry from anxiety.

With utmost gentleness, you lift the lid of the box, and are presented with two rings, both fitted snugly in a velvet cushion, and your jaw snaps shut as you admire them with wide eyes.

Both bands are simple in nature, devoid of any extravagant gemstones or gaudy designs, made to look instead like vines weaving together on the finger. Made of white gold that's been polished to perfection, practically shining like a mirror in the lighting, there are small, understated diamonds inlaid between the vines, making the rings glitter.

"They're not engagement rings, so you don't have to worry just yet," comes Wriothesley's teasing— you hadn't even noticed his approach, too stunned by the simple and subtle beauty of the rings in your palm. With utmost gentleness, Wriothesley carefully plucks one of the rings out of the velvet cushion and takes your left hand, carefully slipping it onto your ring finger with near-reverence, and all you can do is watch, mouth agape as you still try to process the whole thing. The ring is a perfect fit, down to the centimeter. Crafted, you think, just for you.

"They're promise rings," he says, voice soft and near-fragile with his sincerity. Slowly, he grasps your hand with his own, and the ring twinkles prettily as he does so. Its pair continues to glimmer on the cushion in your hand. "Do you like it?" Wriothesley asks, soft, his eyes intently searching your face for any sort of reaction.

And honestly, you have to will yourself not to let tears gather in your lashes. Not to sob right then and there at the sincerity, at the sheer sweetness of this man with his hand in yours. Part of you wants to bury yourself in his chest and hold him and cry, because you genuinely don't think that you can take how caring he is. How thoughtful. How utterly devoted he is.

But you will yourself to keep your composure, though it takes every ounce of your will. With a hitching breath you carefully take the remaining ring out and take Wriothesley's own left hand. You're almost clumsy in your haste as you slip the ring onto his finger now, blinking back tears as you do so and trying your best not to make it obvious that you want to cry. Wriothesley mercifully doesn't say anything about your state, but instead you hear his breath hitch too as the ring slips onto his finger, as perfect in fit as yours had been.

You swallow heavily as you weave your hand with his, then, both your rings glinting in unison under the light. When you face Wriothesley, he's already watching you, something soft and sweet on his face, and you realize that you're not the only one who's about to cry.

"They're perfect," you murmur between the two of you, hand tightening around his, heart flipping and racing and practically imploding in your chest. When you speak, you're not only talking about the rings. "I really love them."

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Gemology Vocabulary

for your next poem/story (pt. 3)

Gemology—the scientific study of gemstones

Colored Stones - This refers to all gemstones other than diamonds, regardless of their color. This term replaces the traditional distinction between "precious and semi-precious" stones.

Color Zoning - A phenomenon that occurs in many types of gem rough, where the color isn't evenly dispersed throughout the body of the stone but occurs in pockets or layers instead. The stone can have zones of lighter, darker, or different colors.

Diamond - One of two classifications of gemstones. Diamonds come in all colors, including black and white, but regardless of color they are still classified as diamonds, not as colored stones.

Fashioning - The process of cutting and polishing facets on diamonds.

Flaws - Any imperfections in gems, like visible cleavage planes or inclusions such as veils, fractures, gas or liquid bubbles, etc. If the flaw breaks the surface of the stone, it's called a surface flaw.

Half-Light - The edge of an incandescent bulb's reflection on a polished facet. Direct reflection can obscure defects on the surface of a polished facet. Only when the edge of the light reflection appears to pass the surface of the stone do some defects finally become visible.

Haloes - Disc shaped fractures, sometimes showing two or four lobes, due to strain generated at crystal inclusions e.g. zircon haloes in sapphire.

Healed fractures - Fractures occurring either during or after crystal growth which have filled with liquid and later partially healed, leaving liquid remnants or negative crystals. Healed fractures take characteristic forms in various gemstones e.g. rippled fractures in amethyst, fingerprints or feathers in sapphire and ruby.

Lapidary - The cutting of stones other than diamond.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Word Lists ⚜ Gemology

[drama-glob]

Ozzie Headcanon:

Ozzie for sure doesn't like Mammon's clown pageant, but I'm betting he doesn't like competitions in general. Ozzie's someone who's about pleasure, fun and passion, and in truth, competition can take all those aspects away when it becomes about winning and needing to prove that one is better than all the rest. (I mean just look at Fizz's poor face here on the second one ;_;). Plus, by having someone win and claim that they are "the best" and is what everyone should aspire to, it diminishes the value and uniqueness each individual person has because of their flaws and imperfections as well as can make them feel like they're less when they don't meet that standard. We already know how Ozzie feels when Fizz says he needs to be perfect. ;_;

*A prime example of this would be gemstones and how the impurities in the crystalline structures gives them a variety of different colors, but that doesn't make them any less beautiful or desirable because of it. ^_^<3<3<3

[libraryofgage]

PJO Steddie Four

One | Two | Three

I am once again posting hfjkds

Anyway! Here's the next PJO AU! We get to see some interactions between Steve and some goddesses, some more hints at El's parent, and some Steddie at the end

Stick around to the very end for a meme!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

----

Five Weeks Before Meeting Eddie

Steve and the kids are spread out across a department store in Pennsylvania when he, Lucas, and Erica run into the most aesthetically pleasing woman any of them have ever seen. Her face is almost otherworldly, and Steve can't find any blemishes or imperfections in her dark skin. Her hair is a perfect afro, bouncy and decorated with little heart-shaped clips made of real gemstones, the kind of style Erica keeps trying for but always falls short of. She's wearing a short dress; it's orange, flows nicely around her knees, and is paired with white wedges.

The sight of her strikes all of them a little dumb, too distracted by appreciating her beauty to wonder why she seemed to show up out of nowhere. To their credit, Erica and Steve manage to avert their gazes when the woman's eyes glance over them. Lucas, however, continues to stare, his head tilted and his brows furrowed in thought before he lights up with recognition.

"Mom!" he exclaims, dropping the windbreaker in his hands. He smiles brightly as he rushes over, stopping just short of running into the woman. "What are you doing here?"

The woman, who Steve now realizes is Aphrodite, smiles at Lucas with a genuine warmth that relaxes him a little. "Hello, dear," she says, her voice clear and soothing as she cups Lucas's cheek and tilts his head up. "You're looking lively."

"I've been having a lot of fun," he tells her. Lucas then looks over his shoulder and waves Erica and Steve over. "This is Steve. He's been protecting us."

Erica rushes over ahead of Steve, not bothering to hold herself back from hugging Aphrodite's waist like Lucas. She buries her face in her mother's dress as the hug is returned. "I haven't seen you in years," Aphrodite says, pulling back enough to crouch in front of Erica and study her. "You've been growing so well."

"Do you like my hair?" Erica asks, showing a rare childish side as she gestures to her afro-puffs. "Steve helped!"

And this seems to be Steve's cue to introduce himself. When Aphrodite looks up and stands, he smiles politely and nods to her. "Hi, nice to meet you," he says, wondering if he's being too informal. The other goddesses he's met didn't seem to mind, though, and Aphrodite's smile reassures him.

"And you as well, Steve. Thank you for looking after my children all this time," she says, placing one hand on Erica's head and the other on Lucas's shoulder. "I've heard about you from the other goddesses and just had to see what the fuss was about."

"There's a fuss?" Steve asks. He's not sure it's such a good thing for the gods on Olympus to be talking about him. "All good, I hope."

"Good enough," Aphrodite says, her smile dimming slightly as she takes a deep breath. She looks down at Erica and Lucas. "Why don't you two go find something nice? It'll be a gift from me."

Lucas doesn't immediately understand what she means, but Erica does. She nods once and grabs Lucas's hand. "C'mon, I wanna look at the video games," she says, dragging him along.

Once they're out of earshot, Aphrodite looks at Steve. Her smile has become polite. "I truly am grateful that you've been taking care of them," she says, and Steve starts to get a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, "but I must ask that you take them back to their father."

"What? Why?" Steve asks, frowning slightly.

Aphrodite sighs and crosses her arms loosely. "Several reasons, really," she says. "You attract monsters, Steve. I mean, you are his child. Lucas and Erica were safe at home, surrounded by human children and their human father. Not to mention, your...sister."

Steve tenses, his nerves on edge with just one word. "What about my sister?" he asks, narrowing his eyes slightly. There isn't much he can do against a goddess, but he isn't scared to fight one for any of the kids, especially his sister.

"Well, I'm sure she's a very nice girl," Aphrodite starts, her voice soft and placating, but it doesn't change the anger her words incite. "But that doesn't change the danger my children are in because of her."

Knowing where this was going does nothing to quell the anger that simmers in Steve at her words. "My sister is not a danger to anybody," he says. Then he considers the words and adds, "Well, she's only a danger to the people who threaten her and her loved ones, which includes your children."

Aphrodite sighs once more, her bottom lip jutting out just slightly in what Steve knows should be a sympathetic pout, but it just comes across as patronizing. "She cannot control her powers. One slip-up, and my children ar--"

"She doesn't slip up," Steve says, interrupting Aphrodite, "El, of all people, is the most aware of herself." He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself when he feels the anger crackling under his skin. Too much more and the sky will start to cloud over with thunder and lightning. "I get your concerns, but El isn't a danger."

He looks up at Aphrodite in time to see her frown, and even that expression is beautiful on her. "It doesn't matter how self-aware she is. Slipping is inevitable, and she will face my wrath if my children are hurt. That is a promise, Steve."

If Steve has learned anything from reading myths, it's that he shouldn't anger the gods, and he especially shouldn't anger the goddesses. But now El has been threatened. His sister, one of his kids, has been threatened. So, you know, he can probably be forgiven for what he says next.

"If you touch El or any of the other kids, I swear to the gods, I will make your fit over the golden apple look like a tadpole's temper tantrum," he says, his voice low as he glares at Aphrodite.

He watches as her shoulders rise, leaning back slightly, and her expression morphs into something mixed between angry and dumbfounded. "Did you just threaten me?" she asks.

Steve sees the question for what it is: a chance to take back his words and pretend they never happened. All things considered, it's generous and unexpected from a goddess. Steve doesn't actually care, though. "Yeah, I did. Those kids are under my care, even if they are little shits most of the time. I've fought for them and almost died for them multiple times. Anything that wants to hurt one of them has to go through me, whether that's monsters or gods. So, don't threaten them, because I'd hate to fight you in front of Lucas or Erica."

In the silence that follows, bland pop music plays over the department store's speakers, reminding Steve of where they are. He really just threatened Aphrodite in the middle of Macy's. Well, at least this will be a fun story to tell later.

"Well," Aphrodite finally says, sniffing once and looking down at Steve, "your arrogance is familiar." She lets that dig about Steve's godly parent rest between them for a few seconds. "Fine. I hope neither of us will ever have to act on our threats."

"Yeah. Me, too," Steve says, that anger starting to calm to a subtle buzz.

Aphrodite nods once. "The others were right about you. You are entertaining, and I can...respect your protectiveness regarding the children. I don't like you, though."

"I'll be honest, the feeling is mutual right now."

Their gazes hold for a few more seconds before Aphrodite nods once more in acknowledgment. Steve's anger fully settles then, disappearing until the next time his emotions start to stir. "I'm going to accompany Lucas and Erica for a while and get them some new clothes. I'll send them to you when we're done," she says, turning on her heel and walking in the direction that Erica pulled Lucas before Steve can respond.

He watches her leave, a frown tugging at his lips before he sighs. That meeting didn't go great, but it definitely could have been worse. Steve turns and goes to find El, needing to reassure himself that she's safe before he can completely relax.

----

Eddie gets to see Steve's favor with the goddesses in action on the second day of driving. The kids are starting to argue more than talk, and Eddie will admit that he needs to stretch his legs, so Steve agrees that it's time to stop and find a hotel.

"Can we get one with a pool?" Max asks, having to shout from the back row of seats to make sure Steve hears her.

Steve glances at her in the rearview mirror before sighing. "Yeah, I guess we can try," he says, quickly returning his gaze to the road before clearing his throat. The kids all quiet down, and the van is silent for the first time in hours. "Uh, Hestia, if you've got the time, I'd appreciate some guidance to a place we can stay for the night. The kids would like one with a pool, but just a place where we can sleep safely would be great."

Eddie has heard plenty of demigods pray before, but he thinks this is the most casually genuine one he's ever heard. When they drive past a few exit signs without any change, Eddie starts to suggest Steve try again with a more, well, reverential tone. But then the van's blinker suddenly switches on, and the kids cheer. Steve snorts at their reaction as he follows the blinker's direction and takes the next exit ramp off the highway.

"What the fuck," Eddie mutters, staring as the blinker continues to signal the turns Steve should take until they're pulling into a hotel parking lot.

The sign in front of the building announces it as "Hearth and Home" in cursive letters. The hotel itself is four stories tall and looks like a giant cottage. A few cars are in the parking lot, and Eddie can somehow tell this place is some kind of passion project for someone who doesn't have to worry about money.

After Steve pulls into a spot outside the hotel and shuts the car off, he turns in his seat and looks at the kids. "What are the rules?" he asks, his tone firm and leaving no room for jokes.

"Don't talk to strangers," El says.

"Don't talk at all while you're checking us in and out," Will adds.

"Stick together and stay in sight," Lucas says.

"Cough twice if we sense a monster nearby," Erica says.

"No fighting," Max says, already starting to shift closer to the doors.

"And if anyone asks," Dustin starts.

"We're traveling to meet family one state over," Mike finishes.

Steve nods once and opens his door. That seems to be the signal the kids were waiting for because they immediately scramble out of their seats. Eddie hops out and walks over to Steve, watching the kids climb out as he asks, "What's up with the rules?"

"Well, I'm a young guy traveling with seven kids. Most hotels are hesitant to give me rooms, and they'll straight up lie about being full if the kids are rowdy. We also need a system in place if one of them realizes a monster is around. And saying we're meeting family tells people that we're expected to appear somewhere by a certain time, which deters anybody from trying to, you know, kidnap one of the kids," Steve explains, glancing at Eddie as he shrugs.

Eddie has to stop himself from asking what led to Steve making some of these rules. Instead, he bites his tongue and follows the group inside, sticking to Steve's side as he walks up to the front desk and the kids huddle within sight a few feet away.

"Hi, do you have any vacancies for the night?" Steve asks, flashing a charming smile at the older woman working the desk.

She looks at Steve, then Eddie, and then the kids behind them. "How many rooms would you need?" she asks.

"If you happen to have any connected rooms, we'll take them. But if not, just two is fine."

The woman nods and checks her computer, hesitating for a few seconds before saying, "We don't have any connected rooms, but one of our Executive Suites is open. It has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a large lounge area. It's made for large groups, so two of the bedrooms have bunkbeds in them. The price, however...."

Steve smiles at her reassuringly and pulls out his wallet. He plucks a black card from one of the pockets and presents it. "Don't worry about the cost," he says, "We'll take it."

At the sight of the sleek credit card, the woman lights up and smiles brightly at Steve. Eddie finds himself thinking that money really does talk. "Of course, sir," the woman says, a suddenly respectful tone coloring her words as she takes the card. "Could I see an ID as well, please?"

As Steve pulls out his license, he looks at Eddie and asks, "Could you take the kids to get the bags from the car? I should have the key cards by the time you get back." He places his license on the desk and hands his keys to Eddie.

Eddie finds himself nodding before he can really think about it, but how can he say no to Steve's brown eyes and the tiny dimples that appear when he smiles? So, he takes the keys and starts herding kids outside.

----

As it turns out, the hotel does, in fact, have a pool, and Steve can't help his grin when the kids cheer after they get to their rooms and he tells them. What follows is a flurry of kids changing into bathing suits, Steve lending Eddie a pair of swim trunks, and making sure everyone has towels and plenty of sunscreen slathered all over them.

The pool is surprisingly large, and there's plenty of space for the kids to swim around and expend some energy. Steve drops into one of the pool chairs and closes his eyes, the plastic warm on his back without burning his skin. He hears another chair get dragged closer before someone sits on it. When Steve opens an eye to look over, Eddie has settled next to him, watching the kids with a slight frown.

Steve follows his gaze, but he doesn't see anything out of the ordinary. The only thing that might catch someone's attention is El wearing her beanie in the pool, but even that could be explained as her forgetting to take it off.

"They don't have any scars," Eddie says after a moment.

Steve blinks and pushes himself up some, sitting straighter in the chair and looking at Eddie. His hair is pulled back into a messy bun, a few pieces escaping to frame his face. He's not obviously muscular like Steve, and he doesn't have an 8-pack, but Steve can still see the subtle muscles in his arms and legs. And the scars. Steve can see plenty of scars littered across Eddie's chest and stomach, his arms, and one particularly nasty one just above his knee.

In that way, Steve supposes, they are similar. "I wouldn't let them get hurt," Steve says quietly, shrugging when Eddie looks at him. He scoots forward some so Eddie can get a better look at his own scars. Despite the warm weather, he still can't help goosebumps traveling up his arms as Eddie stares at him.

"What's that one from?" Eddie asks, gesturing to a large slash that reaches from Steve's shoulder to his elbow.

Steve glances down and hums softly. "Stymphalian bird feather. They're made of steel. It attacked us after we picked up Mike and Dustin. Thankfully, there was only one bird, and I managed to dodge most of the time, but I got this one when I closed in to kill it," he explains.

Eddie stares at the scar, and Steve wonders what he's imagining. Does he want to know how vicious the fight must have been? It was one of Steve's messier fights. He didn't have any training, and he barely had experience. Really, Steve had nothing but his instincts and a desperation to keep the kids safe. "What about those?" Eddie asks, pulling Steve from his thoughts as he leans closer to point at what's clearly a bite mark on Steve's right side.

"The lion head of a Chimera," Steve says, glancing at Eddie before pointing at a scar wrapping around his throat. He shifts until he's sitting on the edge of his chair and tilts his head to give Eddie a better view. "The snake tail was choking me at the same time. I had to use lightning on that one since it had me trapped. We ran into it almost two months ago."

Eddie scoots to the edge of his chair, and their knees are almost close enough to touch. Something starts to buzz under Steve's skin. It's not anger. He knows what that feels like. It's something else this time, something that sizzles and lingers and tries to push against his skin to break free. Steve tries not to think about it.

"And this one?" Eddie asks, pointing to a scar that's splashed across Steve's left knee like a starburst.

"That one," Steve says, getting a grin despite himself, "happened because Dustin tried to help me fight a minotaur. He made this mini-bomb without me knowing and threw it into the fight. I managed to tuck and roll, but the explosion still brushed against me. This scar is from it, too." He turns his right leg out so Eddie can see a similar scar on the inside of his calf.

Steve looks up in time to see Eddie swallow, his throat rolling, and that electric feeling gets stronger. It centers on Steve's knees, the spot where they're closest to touching. But it travels like those toys with magnetic sand when Eddie leans closer and points to the scar in the middle of his chest. It grows the longer Eddie's hand hovers there, and Steve glances down just to make sure there aren't actually sparks buzzing across his skin.

"This one?" Eddie whispers, holding Steve's gaze.

Mouth suddenly dry, Steve clears his throat. "My first fight. The, uh, snake thing that took Will," he says. "Some of the scars on my back and stomach are from that one, too."

Eddie nods, and Steve can't place his expression for a few seconds. When he finally does, he realizes it's something like adoration. He's seen it before from all the kids at some point, usually after he's fought a monster to keep them safe. But Eddie is different. Eddie's adoration is just the surface emotion. Under it, Steve can glimpse something even more intense. He almost wants to drown in whatever it is, let it surround him until he can figure out how to describe it.

"You really are metal, Stevie," Eddie says, his voice soft as he smiles at Steve.

Steve has already acknowledged that Eddie is his type, and he definitely isn't imagining the tension between them right now. Without thinking, he leans forward, a similarly soft grin tugging at his lips. But whatever he wanted to say is literally shocked out of him.

The moment he's close enough for Eddie's hand to actually touch Steve's chest, that fizzing energy bursts through. It's not strong by any means, but it's demanding attention as it zaps across Steve's chest and Eddie's fingertip. Steve jerks back, rubbing at his chest and taking a deep breath to control the crackling over his ribs.

Eddie is frozen, staring at his still outstretched hand in shock. His eyes are wide, and Steve grimaces, wanting to take his hand and check for burns but scared of shocking Eddie more.

"Sorry," he mutters, looking away and coincidentally meeting El's gaze. She's sitting on the steps leading into the pool, legs pulled up to her chest with an amused smile on her face. When she realizes that Steve is slightly panicked, though, she blinks and tilts her head. Steve subtly shrugs one shoulder, and, thankfully, she gets the message.

"Steve!" she calls, waving her hand as though she doesn't already have his attention.

It's the save Steve is desperate for, and he practically jumps up from his chair. "I'm gonna go see what El needs," he says, glancing at Eddie only to find he's already looking up at Steve.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Eddie mumbles. Steve waits until Eddie nods to speed-walk (it's still a pool, after all, and he won't set a bad example by running) over to El, urging his heart and the crackling beneath his skin to calm down.

----

Tag List!

@mugloversonly, @mentallyundone, @hairdryerducks-blog, @carriethesaint, @lunabyrd, @weekend-dreamer7, @farfaras, @littlelady03, @my-tears-are-becoming-a-sea20, @mogami13, @a-little-unsteddie, @itsall-taken, @queenie-ofthe-void, @tinyplanet95, @littlebluejane, @hangoversandhandgrenades, @rabbitwhoeatsstars, @bisexualdisastersworld, @steddieinthesun,

@paintgonewrong, @sadcanadianwinter, @deehellcat, @blanketlicker, @angrydonutdestiny, @booksareportal, @fallingchemicaldiscos, @am-i-obssed-probably, @anne-bennett-cosplayer

@estrellami-1, @fandomcartographer, @steddie-as-they-go, @cris-wants-a-word, @potato-of-the-lord, @plasticcrotches, @enigmahaze

For those who stuck around, a meme:

[shukraastro]

Thank you for replying my ask earlier and yes you are right about more round face I just wrote the description based on 1st house and it's ruler alone. But even if we see the second house which rules face eyes nose it is in cancer so definitely round face with a blend of sharpness in her features.

Now, what I really want to confirm with you is that traditional astrologers keep saying that she will have large breasts because of cancer in 7th house in JK'S traditional chart but what I can see from 4th house using derivative method it falls in virgo with chitra venus, 4th house rules diaphragm, lungs and chest. So with virgo here it gives slender, proportionate chest with moderate fullness (because 4th house lord mercury is conjunct moon so fullness will be there or smoothness but I don't think they will be large) I think she will have pear shaped body, her hips will be larger than her breasts like you said with saggitarous influence in 7th. Or even hour glass due to prominence of shoulders with sun stellium in 3rd house that rules shoulders, collar bones, arms. But I just can't see the big chest.

Also chitra rules forehead and neck she could have a small forehead or a three head due to virgo or a shorter neck. Overall her face could be small, round with small forehead, chubby cheeks, ageless appearance and shape prominent features like eyebrows or eyes. Also chitra is ruled by Mars and also Venus according to Dr. Arjun Pai they are both opposite planets, together they promotes sexuality making Chitra one of the most sexually alluring and active amongst Nakshatras, so she will be very pretty too. (venus influence is more here even if chitra is ruled by mars, Venus is present in this Nakshatra and as for nakshatra ruler mars it is in 5th house libra which is again a venus ruled sign)

And I have noticed allot with chitra Nakshatra venus they love to wear allot of jewels or gemstones and very fashionable clothes. (I could think of Audrey hepburn style)

Especially venus, describing female spouse so she could be business savvy (saturn in 10th) she's here to serve so she could definitely have a business with something related to serving, or creating as well as technology related themes are prominent due to mercury and Rahu also chitra could be related to fashion industry, fashion designer even. But very creative mind nonetheless.

Also she has allot of sun energy so I can definitely see the reddish bright skin (bright due to moon also his DK is moon so fair skin but reddish) and mane like or very noticeable and as you said reddish brown hairs are possible.

Lastly, for her eyes I didn't see the dark circles at first but now it makes so much sense, she could have dead eyes too, lol, I think her eyes and hair will be the most captivating.

Please do give insights on this analysis too. It's all I can see as of now with this method.

Yes, I couldn't agree more with all these descriptions. This is a very good application of the aspects.

Despite her soft and round features she will still have some slightly sharp features, maybe still a noticeable jawline or a pointy or squarish chin. As for the face it makes me think of the instagram model Sofia Jamora, she has a very youthful pouty and small face which also looks very Purva Phalguni like. Please don't come at me, I'm just mentioning her as a description.

About the large bust area I see that too but as a result of Moon being his Darakaraka. A Moon Darakaraka can give a larger bust and fertile signs or Nakshatras can enhance that like Cancer/Taurus or Magha/Purva Phalguni. But with the chest there can be an imperfection again because of Venuses debilitation, Venus usually gives symmetricy and in its debilitation in Virgo it can give asymmetricy or other imperfections like the Chitra tiger stripes (stretch marks) - but this can happen with age also. I kind of get like a picture of Selena Gomez in my head as a comparison of her body type. Again, this is just for a description.

Btw, for the jewelry you are so on point! Chitra individuals really wear a lot of accessories with gemstones/crystals. Since Chitra is symbolized by a jewel or a pearl, they also wear lots of sea pearls and sea shells as well, so definitely this will be a theme in her. Also anything sparkling they enjoy to wear, because Chitra is the shining jewel, so anything that shines and sparkles will be their preferance. They also wear lots of colorful clothes, very eye-catching statement pieces, they have a good taste. And the blend of Venus and Mars makes them very appealing. They also for some reason always put an emphasis on their upper body/waist in their choice of clothing, most probably from the Venusian/Martian influence giving that hourglass look. Another thing for Venus being in his 10th house I also see that she could have a bossy style as well with a hint of edginess from Chitra's ruler Mars in Swati (Rahuvian). She could have a very good eye for fashion. Besides, Chitra also means a picture, so photography or drawing (designs) could also be a thing regarding her career.

[nikethestatue]

Happy birthday to my bestie, my mate, my Elriel sister @tswaney17

I wouldn't have joined this fandom without her. So if anything, blame her! Jokes aside, I hope you have a marvelous year and meet your own stranger in the night. Please enjoy!

One shot

Summary: Elain Archeron is celebrating her birthday and happens to meet an enigmatic and mysterious stranger who upends her world

She smoothed her black bodysuit over her hips, though it wasn’t wrinkled and then tousled her hair, in what she hoped, was sexy, beachy curls.  

Anyone else would’ve told her that she looked great—well put together, elegant, and not trying too hard. But to her self-critical eye, she saw a slew of imperfections. Hips too wide, breasts too large, stumpy fingers...She could stand here all night and critique herself, but what would be the point? It was what it was, right? Some part of her though, liked what stared back. The black bodysuit hugged her in all the right places, and paired with strappy golden heels and some delicate gold jewelry, she looked...nice. Not quite her 31 years old. Her friends always said that she was a ‘young 30’. She looked about 24. But inside, there were days when she felt 78.  

Oh well. Time to go. That’s not to say that she didn’t want to back out of her solo restaurant trip about 25 times today. Internally, she’s been telling herself that she is too busy, too tired, too poor, and that staying in with a bottle of wine and pizza would be just fine. Another part of her wanted to get out. Even if she looked like a loser, dining alone. At least it was a Wednesday night—not the weekend—so she could theoretically make up a story of being on a business trip. Not that anyone’s going to ask. But she needed that security blanket for herself: “I am eating alone, because I am here on business’. Yeah, that sounded legit. She was a successful, professional woman, determined and confident, and she was on business in Chicago.  

She grabbed her clutch and headed out.  

It was a warm evening by Chicago standards. The middle of April could be blustery or it could be blistering. You never knew. Tonight was lovely, actually. Trees were in full bloom—white, pink, yellow, assertive red, purple, even blue—bursting in flowers of every shape and size along the streets of her neighbourhood.  

Beatrice was a quint restaurant in Fulton Market. Or as ‘quaint’ as a restaurant could be in the bustling, hipster corner of the city. She only knew it because she’d come here before with her stylish, popular co-worker, Morrigan. She recalled how Mor wore a pristine baby blue bodysuit, sky-high heels, and a sparkling silver belt studded with glittery gemstones. Mor’s hair was a waterfall of golden blonde, which cascaded sensually down her back. Her skin was flawless. Her makeup was perfection, and her nails the right shade of pearl. When they were seated, all the girls in the party immediately rattled off a list of things they didn’t eat, were allergic to, and ‘avoided’. Mor announced that she was ‘celiac’ in a tone that implied that obviously she was celiac! And then proceeded to order bread. When the waiter told her that bread has gluten, Mor said that ‘she was allowed to today’.  

Back then, she’d ordered something called the Straight ‘A’ Salad, not wanting to tuck into something juicy and fatty in front of everyone. It ended up being empty and unsatisfying. But she still wanted to go back there, because the other items on the menu looked good, the vibe was nice and not overwhelming, and the drinks were inventive. If nothing else, she’d get her full in alcohol. 

“Follow me, Miss,” the hostess beckoned her and she scurried quickly between tables, wanting to be seated as soon as possible. 

It was nice. The table was by the wall, and she could see inside the restaurant and out the window. She laid her clutch on the table and exhaled. She was here. She was in her place, in her chair.  

She made it. 

“Are we celebrating anything tonight, Miss?” the waiter asked, when he approached with the menu. 

“Oh no,” she laughed, “I am on a business trip.” 

“And do you have any allergies?” 

“No!” she stated decisively. No. She is going to eat what she wanted. No faux allergies for her. 

The drinks menu looked a bit intimidating. Lots of things with Mezcal and Elderflower and words like ‘smoked’ and ‘hibiscus ginger kombucha’. After discreetly googling what kombucha was, she gagged and decided on a Lemond Drop. Safe and sound. 

The waiter wasn’t exactly impressed by her choice, but she didn’t care. Instead, she ordered Cheddar Popovers with bacon butter, and green chili queso for appetizers. It harkened back to her California upbringing, where things were less formal, the food less complicated, and the loneliness less acute. She suddenly and desperately missed her sisters, who lived back home. She missed the sun, tacos, trips to Sacramento and the simpler life she had back home.  

Sighing, she sipped her cocktail and looked around. It was fairly bustling, couples and friends chatting animatedly, drinking their complicated drinks and laughing. But...she felt okay. Not amazing, but okay. It was peaceful.  

It felt peaceful until her eyes fell on a singular, solitaire figure of a man, who sat at the bar, with a drink in front of him. The reason she even paid attention to him was because he was literally breathtakingly beautiful. So handsome, her breath stalled in her chest. Big. So goddamn big, it felt like he was sucking the air into the vortex of a black hole that he’d created just by simply...being. He sat, unmoving, in a sharply cut suit and a white shirt, unbuttoned at his neck. The other reason why she looked at him was because he was staring back at her. Big, bold, unflinching stare. Those incredible, luminescent eyes almost glared at her, and she wished she’d know what colour they were. The man’s face remained impassive, but he continued staring, even once she’s averted her eyes and squirmed in her seat. And now, all she could feel was his stare, following her every move. It was suddenly hot, and she felt her nipples pop like tiny Whack-A-Moles beneath her bodysuit. Served her right for not wearing a bra! Jesus Mary and Joseph. Well, her evening was ruined just like that. Instead of being at peace with her lemon drop and her popovers, she was not being scorched by the gaze of this absurdly handsome man, and all she wanted to do was look his way and see if he was still looking at her. While she didn’t want him to be looking at her. But she wanted to make sure that he was. Oh, god. What. The. Hell. 

She was on the verge of fanning herself, before realising that she’d be looking like she was having hot flashes, and it was too early for that. Her nipples were hard as bullets and she was forced to cover her breasts with her folded arms, just to maintain some sense of decorum. As she ‘busied’ herself with her drink, she snuck a momentary glance at the man. He was still there, but no longer looking at her. Instead, he was on his phone, and a deep sense of regret and longing washed over her at once. 

He was interested in her for 23 seconds.  

That was it. 

But she supposed that for the most handsome man in the world to take notice of her for 23 seconds was sufficient enough. 

“Miss, your popovers,” the waiter stepped up to the table, placing one plate down in front of her, and then the other, “and queso. Please be careful, it’s hot.” 

The food looked fine, but somehow, she no longer felt particularly hungry. She wasn’t sure if it was because the man was no longer looking at her, or because he was looking at her before. Did she want him to look at her? No. No, she didn’t. He was entirely outside her comfort zone, with his piercing gaze and his unnaturally good looks and he was definitely a player, so there was no need for all of this.  

On her birthday, all she wanted was peace and quiet. She didn’t need smouldering men giving her the death stare. Instead, she forced herself to concentrate on her food. The popovers were light and fluffy and crispy on the outside, and the bacon butter was to die for. Sinful, but so, so good. 

She sunk into her seat, enjoying her cocktail and alternating between the popovers and then the rich, spicy queso. She was still deciding on the main course—penne with spicy vodka sauce? Slow cooked short rib?  

“Miss,” 

Her contemplation was interrupted by the waiter, who was holding a drink. 

“From the gentleman at the bar,” he said and placed the drink in front of her. 

Her mouth fell open. Whaaat... 

Timidly, she allowed her eyes to travel to the bar and sure enough, there he was. Staring. A small, secret smile touched his beautiful mouth and he inclined his head just a bit. She didn’t exactly know how to act in these situations. Was she supposed to drink the drink that he sent? Invite him over? Go over there herself? Ignore him like a total douche? 

Okay, first things first. She raised the pretty coupe glass to her lips and tentatively sipped the drink. Sour and smokey, with a touch of sweetness and heavy on lemon flavour, this was definitely a whiskey drink. And she didn’t like whiskey. But for some reason, she really liked this. She took another sip, a bolder one, and then glanced at the man. He was smiling, as he watched her drink, and when she swallowed, he winked at her. Approving? Enjoying watching her? Smug? Pleased? She wasn’t sure. But she... 

“Ready to order, Miss?” the waiter was back, and she absently said ‘fish tacos’ which isn’t what she even wanted, but she was too scrambled to come up with a better idea. “Very good,” the waiter chirped, and before he disappeared, she said, “can you ask the gentleman who bought the drink to join me?” 

Her throat was dry. Her underarms were sweaty. 

WHAT was she doing?? 

She never did anything like this before? Inviting strange men to eat with her? Never! 

“If he wants to,” she added quickly and the waiter nodded.  

God, please say no. Please. Please god, let him say no. I don’t want it. I don’t. 

There he was. Moving through the restaurant like the Angel of Death. Dark and tall and slim and muscular. Jesus. He was actually coming over! Oh. No. Nononononono. 

And then he was standing at her table, how own drink in hand. 

“I wasn’t sure if Whiskey Sour was the way to go,” he said—his deep, dark, raspy voice matching his appearance to a tee. "But it looks like I did well.” 

She swallowed hard and then muttered, “Is that what it is?” 

Yep, it sounded lame even to her own ears. 

“Indeed,” he confirmed. “First time?” 

Somehow, this made her blush. A simple question, and a correct assumption, but for some reason, it was laced with innuendo. 

Their eyes finally locked.  

Hazel. His eyes are a gorgeous greenish amber colour, spectacular like the rest of him. 

He took a sip of his drink and slowly dragged the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, swiping the droplet and that made her even sweatier than she was before. Soon she was going to be sweating like a sumo wrestler—which of course is the most enticing look a woman could sport.  

“No, I’ve had it before,” she finally managed to answer. 

He smirked a knowing smile. 

“Have you?”  

As he was looming over her and attracting way too much attention from the females of the species, and even some males, she all but ordered him, “you can sit down!” 

He smiled again, that smooth, secret smile, saying, “I thought you’d never ask”. 

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she just watched him in silence as he slid onto a chair across from her.  

“Thanks for the drink,” feeling awfully uncomfortable, knowing she was not great at small talk, and completely out of depth with this man, she thought that this was all a pretty bad idea. What was supposed to have been a quiet and nice evening alone, was turning into...well, she wasn’t sure what it was turning into, but it was something.  

“You aren’t waiting for anyone, are you?” he asked, sounding curious. “I wouldn’t need to fight a boyfriend or something...I mean, I’ll win, but,” 

She huffed, and snorted a laugh. 

“So confident?” 

He shrugged, “pretty confident”. After a pause, he pressed, “so?” 

“No,” she blushed despite her best efforts to appear cool. “I am here alone. On a business trip,” she lied smoothly, grateful for having this little nugget in her pocket.  

He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, lounging comfortably. Suddenly, he said,  

“Nope. Try again.” 

Startled, she glowered at him, not knowing what he meant. All the while, as she squirmed in confusion, he casually drank his whiskey, watching her closely. 

“What,” she brought her glass to her lips and took a generous swig of the drink, “what do you mean?” 

“Only that you are not being exactly truthful,” he shrugged, and then grabbed a popover and swallowed the whole thing easily. “You aren’t here on any business trip.” 

“What?!” she exclaimed with indignation. “Excuse me! How do you know? What do you mean?” 

His eyes slowly slid over her bare arms, her chest, her neck, and again, she blushed like a fool, but there was no stopping her body’s reaction to this strange man. 

He was...enigmatic.  

“A beautiful woman like you, wearing something so elegant and understated,” 

Understated? Did he mean boring? 

“is not in Chicago on any business trip. So, that makes me think—if you aren’t waiting for anyone, and you are dressed up, then you must be,” he cocked his head, considering, “celebrating something? A new job? A birthday?” 

Most of his words rolled right over her head, because all she heard was ‘a beautiful woman like you’. He thought that she was beautiful? He? HE thought that?  

“What?” she asked dumbly. 

He chuckled, amused. “You are a little naughty liar, is what I am saying,” 

“You can’t call me that!” 

“Then don’t lie to me.” 

She bubbled her lips and finished her drink. Finished already? Shit. 

He noticed it too and motioned for the waiter.  

“Another drink for the lady,” he ordered. “And I’ll take another whiskey. And,” he thought for a moment and added, “bring us a bottle of champagne.” He looked at her and asked, “what are you eating?” 

“I think I ordered fish tacos,” she recalled, watching him in confusion.  

“Want to eat them?” 

“I dunno.” 

“Mind if I cancel them and order us steaks?” 

“Uhh...okay?” 

He did just that, telling the waiter that he’d pay for the tacos as well.  

Who the hell was this guy? He flicked his fingers and just got whatever he wanted. The waiter didn’t even question him! ‘Of course, sir’ ‘Whatever you want, sit’ ‘Right away, sir’.  

“So, is it your birthday?” he asked once the waiter ran to fetch the drinks. Literally, ran.  

“No.” 

His brows knitted together and he pursed his lips. 

Something about him and his look made goose bumps rise on her skin and she shifted under the table, crossing her legs. This guy and his unbelievable dominating bossiness were both scary, but also highly sexual. She knew that she was a bit of a submissive at heart, but that was mostly because she read way too many omegaverse books. But now, she was faced with a true Alpha. When they spoke of an Alpha Male, she suddenly became aware that she was in the presence of one. He wasn’t just tall, dark and handsome—even if he was a walking cliche with all of these attributes. But it was his undeniable, almost God-given natural dominance and superiority that she found so fascinating. And yes, so appealing as well.  

“It’s not your birthday?” he repeated. 

“N-no,” she bleated pathetically. 

He didn’t respond immediately, but only drummed his fingers on the table, and she noticed that his hands were scarred. Rather extensively. Burns, from what she could tell. Jesus. How did he get these? And both hands, too.  

“Lie to me again, and I will take you over my knees and spank that perfect bottom until you beg for mercy,” he warned, his voice impassive, his face unchanged.  

Her mouth dropped open and she thought that she was going to slide under the table and dissolve into a puddle. 

Was she supposed to cause a scene and slap him? Was she supposed to storm out of the restaurant? How does one reacted to being threatened by a spanking by a complete stranger? 

Also, he thought that her ass was ‘perfect’? 

“Let’s start anew, beautiful girl,” he proposed then, while she made silent gasping noises like a dying fish. 

The waiter arrived just then, and only that prevented her from fainting or screaming out loud. He popped the champagne bottle with flourish and poured both of them a measure, while also setting their cocktails down before them. 

“Don’t come back until the food is ready,” the stranger warned the waiter and the man nodded and left without saying a word. 

“What is your name?” 

She swallowed, but remembering his warning, she decided to go with the truth this time. 

“Elain.” 

“Gorgeous name,” he approved. “It suits you. I am Azriel.” 

“Azriel,” an exotic name for an exotic man. “Nice to meet you. I think?” she ventured and extended her hand to him. 

“Pleasure is certainly all mine,” he said, squeezing her hand in his huge, warm, powerful palm, watching her with strange, almost palatable hunger. “Whether you’ll receive pleasure from me or not remains to be seen,” he decided vaguely and she bit her lip, sensing that innuendo again and not knowing how to deal with it. 

The one time a guy was instantly interested in her, and he is a dangerous weirdo. Figures. Just her luck. 

He raised his glass and said, “Happy birthday, Elain! I hope it’s wonderful to you.” 

“Thank you. That remains to be seen, I think,” she said softly and they touched their glasses. She sucked the champagne quickly, and with a sense of foreboding and some kind of desperation. She had no idea where this was going, or what he wanted from her. But she wanted it to continue. At least for the duration of this dinner. 

“What do you do?” he inquired, dipping a chip into the queso, but instead of eating it, he held it out to her. She looked around, in some kind of futile hope that someone would save her from this, but there was no one. Only this stunning, somewhat insane man, who was feeding her chips and dip. 

“Come on, beautiful Elain. Open up,” he urged soft, his voice smooth and husky and so tempting.  

Numb, and only driven by the sound of that sensual voice, she opened her mouth and he gently pushed the chip inside. As she pulled it between her teeth, he brushed his finger over her lower lip and then brought it to his mouth and sucked. 

“More?” he whispered and then concluded, “more.” 

He dipped another chip and fed it to her again. 

“So?” 

“I am in marketing,” she answered, knowing in advance that hers was the most uninspiring answer in history. But she was more preoccupied by the fact that she was being fed chips by a strange man in the middle of a restaurant. 

“And you live in the city?” he asked further. “Please don’t even start with the whole ‘I am here on business’.” 

She sighed and admitted, “Fine, I am from the suburbs. But I work in the city. What do you do?” 

He didn’t seem too thrilled about her question and took his time eating the last of the popovers. 

“Do you really want to know?” he asked finally. 

“Yes, of course. Why not?” 

“You might not like it.” 

“Why wouldn’t I? What do you do? Kill people?” she joked. 

He smiled at her, but the smile was less of a smile, and more just a stretch of his lips. The smile didn’t reach his eyes 

“And if I am?” he wondered at last. 

She frowned and then it dawned on her and she laughed, “what? You kill people?” 

“Maybe.” 

A shiver ran down her spine and she gawked at him in shock. Until she dissolved in a flurry of laughs. 

“You had me there for a sec!” she wiggled her finger at him. “A+ for a perfect deadpan delivery! I am impressed.” 

He didn’t seem to be laughing, but he added, “but they were all bad”. 

She stopped laughing and nervously shifted in her seat. 

“Wait. What?” 

“You wanted to know what I did for a living,” he reminded her. 

As she processed his words, he just sat there, watching her intently. 

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed at last, realisation dawning on her, “it’s a scam, right?! You are one of those guys who pretends to be an assassin, or a millionaire, or in the CIA and then I fall for it, and in two months you’ll start asking me for money and I blow all my savings on you and then never hear from you again.” 

Shaking her head in disbelief she grabbed her napkin and then said, “thank you for the drink, Mr. Azriel. But I am not stupid. I appreciate the gesture—the razzle dazzle—but let’s part ways right here so that no one leaves here too traumatised.” 

He listened to her impassively and in the next moment, the waiter arrived with their steaks.  

She was hungry and upset, but she knew that she couldn’t stay here any longer and remain in his company. The whole thing was too bizarre and she didn’t want to get in trouble. And this man was clearly trouble. Or maybe troubled. Or both. 

“Azriel, I am,” 

“Sit,” he ordered, though his tone was soft. “You are safe with me. Don’t worry. But you did ask me what I did for a living,” he insisted again. 

“Well, when I did ask you, I didn’t expect for you to tell me that you are some kind of a killer!” she snapped, her voice rising. 

“I’d rather you didn’t yell,” he requested. “However, I wanted to tell you,” 

“Why?!” she exclaimed. “Don’t killers usually try and keep their profession,” she made a quotation mark sign with her fingers, “a secret?” 

“Normally, yes,” he agreed. “But, I want you to trust me and I felt that being honest is the best way to earn that trust.” 

“Trust me? Why? And,” 

“Because I want you,” he interrupted her and his tone was blunt, but calm. 

“Wha,” 

“I want you,” he repeated. “I saw you and you...well, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And now, I am obsessed with the idea of learning what you’d look like when I enter you. What sounds you’d make when you come on my tongue.” 

At that, the big steak knife fell out of her trembling fingers and she wondered if she was having some kind of out of body experience. An ‘episode’? She wasn’t prone to episodes, but hell, there was a first time for everything, right? 

He shrugged, and continued like this was a perfectly sane conversation they were having, “Sorry if this is a bit unorthodox,” 

An understatement of the century! 

“However, I am not one to mince words,” 

Another understatement of the century. 

“And when I want something, I go after it. And right now, I want you.” 

She made a gurgling sound, but he ignored it, then cut into his steak, and chewed slowly.  

“However, you don’t strike me as someone who sleeps around or who is used to the type of man I am,” 

Was any woman? 

“Therefore, I wanted to build a baseline of trust between us. Like I said, you have nothing to fear from me. I am simply a man, interested in a woman.” 

He was anything but, but okay. 

“So,” she finally found her voice which was lost somewhere in the bottom of her stomach, “telling me you are an assassin is your way of establishing a baseline of trust?” 

He looked at her hand, which was clutching a butter knife, her knuckles white, and smiled faintly. 

“I suppose so.” 

She reached for the bottle of champagne, but her hands were shaking so badly, she could barely grasp it. Smoothly, he took the bottle and topped off her glass. This was probably the worst idea—to continue drinking—but she couldn't think of anything else. 

“Why don’t you relax and eat,” he suggested. “The steak is cooked perfectly.” 

“I don’t think I am hungry.” 

“Nonsense. Lay down your weapon of choice, dig into your dish and relax a bit. Have fun. It's your birthday!” 

He then raised his glass and mused, ‘what should we toast to?” 

“Me remaining sane after this dinner,” she muttered under her breath. 

He laughed.  

“How about ‘to the future’? Because tomorrow with you is worth every yesterday I spent without you,” he said and she almost choked.  

He couldn’t be for real.  

No man talked like that. Ever. 

“Listen, I know I could a little blunt, but in my line of work, I have to move quickly and I typically don’t get many second chances. And I don’t want to miss my chance with you,” he drank his champagne and watched her attempt to concentrate on her steak. “And when I said that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, I am being honest. I saw you across the restaurant and you kind of blew my mind. It happens, you know,” 

“No, it doesn’t,” she argued. “Only in romance novels.” 

“Okay,” he shrugged, “so we have a romance novel beginning, so what?” 

“It’s not real,” she insisted.  

“Well, while you think on that, tell me when I can kiss you, because I’d really, really would like to kiss you right now,” 

“Never!” she shrieked. “Stop talking like that!” 

She desperately needed him to stop talking. Stop using that sensual, deep baritone to say deliciously sinful things to her. Because if he continued, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. She kept trying to shield her breasts from him, since her nipples were achingly sharp, threatening to poke through the top of her body suit. And between her legs—disaster. She was flooded. Every glance at his strong, powerful hands made her wonder what they’d feel like between her thighs. What his soft lips would taste like if he did get that kiss from her. And every word he said just made her wetter and wetter. She feared she’d have a stain on her clothes once she got up from her seat, and the thought alone was mortifying.  

“I think you should let me kiss you,” he insisted, watching her intently. 

“No, I am not kissing you!” 

God, this steak was good!  

“How about this then,” he proposed slowly, “I scoot closer to you, and you let me play with your clit, while you eat, and then you come all over my hand. I pay the bill and we go to my place and I’ll continue making you come. Because all I want to do right now is kiss every inch of your porcelain skin, and fuck your soft, lovely mouth and watch my dick disappear between those rosy lips. And then you’ll come on my dick in your perfect pussy and ask for more, while screaming my name. And if you let me, I’ll fuck that gorgeous ass as well and will make you come from that as well. And then you’ll sleep in my arms and in the morning, we’ll go get breakfast.” 

She watched him in dull astonishment, her brain failing to work properly as she attempted to process his words.  

This really couldn’t be real. At all. No man, in the history of mankind, ever said words like these to a woman.  

Yes, he just sat there, with her perfect face and his perfect body, and waited. 

“And then you’ll go and kill some people at work?” was all she managed to say to his explicit monologue.  

She’s never been fucked anywhere, let alone her ass. So yeah. 

“Well, not at work. For work,” he corrected. 

“Uh uh,” she sighed. “And you are okay with me knowing about that then?” 

“Like I told you, I want you to trust me.” 

“Uh uh,” she sighed again. Then she set her napkin aside and told him calmly, 

“Azriel, it certainly has been an interesting evening. I thank you. I am not sure I’ll ever forget it, or you, but...I don’t think that I am the girl you need,” 

“All me to decide that,” he argued sharply. 

She chewed the inside of her cheek, before clarifying, “I suppose I choose not to be that girl for you.” 

“Why?” 

“I like my boring little life. It suits me. And you...you don’t suit me or my life.” 

She couldn’t even believe her own assertiveness. She was rarely like this.  

“It’s unfortunate,” he said sadly. “Forgive me if I offended you,” 

“Astonished, more like,” 

“Better than offended.” 

She got up from her chair and her knees felt soft and shaky, and for the first time she understood what ‘jelly legs’ were. She had jelly legs because of him.  

“Thank you for dinner. I better be going.” 

“I’d like to walk you to your car,” he offered. 

“I think it’s a bad idea. Besides, I am getting an Uber. I drank too much. Goodbye, Azriel.” 

She rushed out of the restaurant and onto the bustling Fulton Market, where there were hundreds of people milling around. Her fingers trembling, she got her phone out of her clutch and pressed the Uber button on the verge of hysteria now. She didn’t know where she was going even, so she pressed ‘home’ even though she knew this Uber would host like $60 at least. But she needed to get away. Away from here, away from him, away from making a bad decision. Very bad, terrible decision that she was yearning to make right now. 

3 minutes. 

3 minutes. 

Okay, she just needed to make it for 3 minutes out here, until the car came. 

She glanced at the phone frantically, over and over again, watching the little car move along the street diagram. 

Suddenly, a familiar scarred hand reached over her shoulder and grabbed her phone.  

“Wait! Give it back!” she demanded desperately. 

Azriel smiled at her and then typed something in her phone.  

“Now you have my number.” 

A text chimed, and he added, “and I have yours”. 

“We’ll never see each other again,” she promised. 

“We’ll see,” he said simply. 

Finally, Honda Civic! Blue! There she was!  

She bounced on her heels impatiently, hoping he wouldn’t do anything, and yet hoping that he would at the same time. 

Ugh. 

“Goodbye, Azriel,” she said again. 

He opened the door for her politely and before she folded herself into the car, he pressed his lips to the top of her head. 

“Happy birthday, beautiful. I’ll see you later.” 

-

Azriel ‘The Shadow’ Night had two problems on his hands. 

As he watched the Honda weave in and out of busy traffic, he lit a cigarette—an occasional bad habit of his—and inhaled deeply. 

Nothing that he told her was a lie. 

He did find her to be incredibly beautiful. And his attraction to her was instant and hit him like an avalanche. He’d never felt anything remotely like this before. He wanted her with every fiber of his being and know, innately, that their paths were crossed forever and for a reason. 

The only omission in his tale was that their meeting was not accidental. And that she was the target, who was his current assignment.  

Now, he needed to figure out how to murder her, while keeping her alive. 

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

cry tears of puddles on ground here some incoherent snippets of what text partner about silco jinx father daughter dynamic that am going insane over rn hands n knees on ground begging sobbing n too busy do that to clean up or be coherent - n idk how much actual media analysis support by show evidence n how much it just me imagine things self insert wishful thinking - n there also may be from a few to many undescribed screenshots of season 1 because god have 100+ in camera roll

.

weak for father child esp found father child trope imperfect father but i will love you unconditionally i will try to be the best father can be for you even if i am irreparably messed up and so are you & imperfect child traumatized act out slowly losing grip with reality n will lash out will be rebellious ruin us all but you’ll be the best father i’ve ever had

(no diss on vanco tho)

him clumsily lift arm n hesitate n not know what to do not know if he should do not know how to do

subtle facial expression from “what’s going on what do i do” -> sadness (for powder n for his younger self) -> anger n determined n vengeful (for power n for his younger self) in span of seconds

“you’re my daughter. i’ll never forsake you.”

“don’t cry. you’re perfect.” AS HIS LAST WORDS

“show them. we’ll show them all” his voice echo after his death as she shoot missile. n she did. she did!!!!! to have so many people growing up not believe in her think her useless say that to her face - n her figure out how to use gemstone BY SELF with no previous guide!!! with no upside tech with only what she can get there!! build bombs now even viktor n jace n those people say near impossible disassemble without explode in face. n entire time silco believe in her BELIEVE IN HER SUPPORT HER. WE’ll show them. WE. n THEY DID!!!! they did!!! together!!!! he’s dead by time she fire missile but they really did. the fact his voice echo with her as she do it, fact that animation flash to his body as she do it— also fact that. every step of way they did. she top most demanded by name person, most threatening person.

doctor scene “are you ready to lose her” “she can take it.” FATHER

believing in her bc she can because she HIS daughter n HIS daughter can take it n also believing in her because he needs to he needs her so she will take it she make it she HAS TO because he can’t lose her he can’t be without her

a father who did objectively HORRIBLE things. with SHITTY morals but also REALLY HOPEFUL (word choice) ones in twisted way.

be complicated character who is shitty for flooding undercity with drugs be drug lord but in same time doing that because he truly want zaun freedom - like think it important emphasize its. not HIM be ruler of zaun at least not directly phrased that way but fact that zaun freedom. like he very much could just directly say “one day zaun be free n am rule over” but he didn’t say second part. he not altruistic by any means but also!!!! he is???

all that complicated cruel will-do-anything-to-achieve-his-goal-beyond-himself villain-ness in direct contract with having the ONE SOFT SPOT of his daughter who FUCKS SHIT UP who is DIFFICULT who UNCONTROLLABLE UNPREDICTABLE n he loves her UNCONDITIONALLY he spoils her gives her so many lee way

the fact that someone so fucked up someone so actively make things difficult for him. can be loved

no am don’t have issues at all

also calling jinx difficult n fucked up n ruin things with all love in world not in derogatory way. because. it’s like. am fucked up. am difficult. am severely traumatized. am want burn whole world down for leaving me behind for betray me. in many people eye am more trouble me than am worth. n idea of. a father who love me just the way that am call me perfect. even if. [ ].

n to call someone like that. perfect

n to. mean it.

to genuinely see n treat her as perfect

even after she mistakenly shoot you killing you - to be constantly put in jeopardy by her fucked up ness to be harmed n killed by her fucked up ness. to see mistake as just that - mistake. n to forgive you for that no questions asked to love you unconditionally despite that or even because of that. for her mistake cost you your life n for your last word be tell her don’t cry, that she perfect.

down to willing give up his whole dream whole goal whole purpose he fought for all these fucking years - thing he gave his entire life towards.

because he refuse give her up he refuse leave her abandon her use her as pawn

“you’re my daughter. i’ll never forsake you.” like genuinely truly believe he mean this he truly won’t take the deal with upside even if that mean zaun freedom because he refuse abandon jinx. he not just saying it to be manipulative or just saying be lying because he’s tied up with her have gun beside her he know she very much may fire

his “everyone betrayed you/us but i’ll never. am gave you everything” may be see as “you have no one but me” manipulative n maybe is but more importantly think that like. he genuinely believe that. like that his entire character origin. his entire motive.

the fact that she killed him n he don’t blame her one bit.

the fact the villain character clumsily learning how to take care of a child

he truly see her n treat her like her daughter not a pawn not a subject. more times than not instead of have her on leash as his subject he is leashed by her

to be so utterly broken n love someone

to be so utterly broken n be loved unconditionally by someone

two character who betrayed by entire world by people who once closest to them

n him swearing that he will never ever fucking do that to her. that they may not have other people they may have entire world against them but they have each other

n him FOLLOWING THAT down to his last breath

him not following that would have make his life n make more than his life so much easier

BUT HE REFUSE TO

also he didn’t betray her by lying to her that her sister is dead he genuinely believed her sister dead. leading to the funniest frame n line ever

“FROM THE DEAD???????”

[veilantares]

Unpolished Gemstone Even robots get boring portraits taken just to break out of the routine...

A robot I didn't even finish drawing, imperfect, like an uncut gemstone. Let the gleam shine vividly through all the fractals yet to come. I think if I had spent more time on this I'd probably have worked on dividing the hair and main shoulder areas better. Finishing any drawing is an exercise in compromise I suppose.

The original intent was going to be to brainstorm what the Emperor could look like, probably with lime green colourings. Maybe jade would be like, the mark of royalty for this one. I don't know if the marks of royalty (like, the things that tell you this character is a big deal) would be similar for each Emperor, its actually a lot more interesting if its something completely different between each - I want to imagine the transition in imagery and regalia between two emperors with completely different insignia would be a tough one.

Of course these robots's features are all meant to have some sort of barely hidden purpose too. Those "honeycomb eyes" perhaps could be used in insignia to convey vigilance, but as a tactical tool maybe this character is able tocast a different spell effect from each "eye" looking at a target.

Lorewise "the next Emperor can come from anywhere". At this point of planning the robots don't have families but they can still mentor and guide each other, so maybe whenever the next candidate for the role is selected, they're inducted into the palace where they learn to be charismatic - it's not totally ceremonial but the role is all about keeping robots of the Singular Empire united and confident in the Empire's objectives.

There is meant to be a secret reason only specific types of robots can be the next Emperor, so you won't see a spider tank wearing a crown and giving motivational speeches.

The orange and purple came from an unexpected layer effect combination that was too striking not to keep.

[sinfiltrate]

Act 3 spoilers. (pt 2)

JAYCE TIME!!! I love that man and I NEED to talk about him.

Again, I'm gonna start with what I'm happy about.

I enjoy how they demonstrated his ingenuity and perseverance in episode 7. Making a leg brace out of his hammer? Eating whatever animals came through that cave? Being able to tolerate those beings that watched his every move without going completely insane? It was amazing to see someone who was previously suicidal fight so hard to live.

I was pleasantly surprised with how he could still be considerate after everything that happened to him. He hadn't let that experience erase his former self entirely, his kindness was still able to pull through, which is just another example of his tenacity.

The development of his relationship with Viktor. It was beautiful seeing Jayce admit that he admired Viktor all along, and his imperfections even more so. All of you who ever thought the opposite of him BE ASHAMED. He loved Viktor so much, and after everything, finally realized that Viktor should've been his top priority because he's what he cared about this whole time.

Jayce looked absolutely gorgeous in this act, as expected, THANK YOU.

Now, what I'm mostly just disappointed by.

The lack of attention paid to his hallucinations. There was one more in episode 8 and that was it. I guess I was just expecting more of that, considering how frequent it was in episode 5 and 6. I really wanted them to explore his trauma. Surviving for what seems to be months in an abandoned part of the world that you took part in destroying, unintentionally or not, can do A LOT to someone's head, especially someone like Jayce, who had once been so naive to and inexperienced with suffering. He was NOT privileged, mind you, but he was raised in Piltover, a city built on peace and wealth.

The ending Jayce received was, to me at least, underwhelming. It's a win for JayVik fans, but it is NOT a win for Jayce Talis fans (or just me idk man IM UNSATISFIED). I feel like it really undermines Jayce as a character, revealing that his entire life begins and ends with Viktor since he is the mage he met as a kid. It makes it seem that Jayce was simply a pawn in Viktor's story, like nothing he did ever actually meant anything because no matter what, he was going to drop it all for Viktor. Endearing in a romantic aspect, yes, but disappointing in every other. I really wanted more for him. I would've honestly preferred it if the mage wasn't Viktor, rather some other league character that could become a bigger part of the next series they're making. Having it be Viktor makes the world seem so small.

The build-up of him during episode 9 was ultimately unnecessary. He didn't even fight in the war, let alone fight Viktor while in his Machine Herald form. He just ended up talking to him with a "this isn't you" type beat and then proceeded to warp out of existence with Viktor. NOT DEAD... btw.. he's alive and well just on another astral plane don't get it twisted. I understand that they're soulmates destined to meet each other in every universe, but I didn't expect such a happy ending for them. I WANTED A BOSS FIGHT WITH SPIT BLOOD AND TEARS

Also, I feel like there was no true explanation as to why the gemstone had to be imbedded in Jayce's wrist? Was it simply so he could carry it into wherever Viktor was? For me, I genuinely thought it would give Jayce some type of control over magic, unlock his inner arcane or SOMETHING. The way Viktor said Jayce had too touched the arcane made me think that's exactly what was going to happen, like Jayce was going to unlock his connection to magic through the stone literally being inside him. It could've been an explanation as to why magic fascinates him so much, he just needed a link to it, straight from the source to realize his full potential. I'm honestly sad that they didn't delve deeper into that. Him and Mel would've been so powerful together. SOMEONE MAKE A FIC OF JAYCE BEING A MAGE PLEEEASE IT WOULD BE SOOOO COOL CMON GUYS

Back to episode 7, I also expected Jayce to fight those things he saw while in the other dimension. It would've been fascinating to see how severely they affected his mental state, considering they were literally breathing down his neck the entire time he was there. I would've liked to see him one day just snap and dismantle one of those things. Seeing how they weren't violent upon his arrival, I doubt they'd fight back, and he'd just take out all his rage and sadness and guilt on them. It would explain why he was so unfazed when he killed salo; both because he knows it isn't truly him and he's already killed so many, it no longer has an effect. And it might've given him more battle IQ, using them as test dummies and learning how to defend himself. That would've been a cool segment of his time spent there. There just wasn't enough time to go that deep.

In conclusion, they could've made him so much cooler, just saying. But seriously, I think I expected too much out of this act, and the second season in general. And I love Jayce, the end.

[sonicexelle-junkary]

Did you ever specify where the Master Emerald came from in Chaos Fever? Like, how did Sonic find it? Where was it before then? Did it always have the shape of an emerald? If not, what was it before?

Unrelated question, you said the people were the chaos Emeralds in this AU, does that mean it's theoretically possible to go Super with the right collection of them?

So many mysteries...

Honestly, I never gave it too much thought. It was those kinds of things where you know little about it and don’t really think about it, or draw it up to your own conclusion.

To make it clear, in general, Sonic found it while on a hike at a mountain nearby the town, more or less imbedded in a little “cave” system (basically like a naturally formed tunnel in the side of the mountain). He brought it back, it actually being lighter than expected— like it was hollow on the inside. It’s much heavier now, Sonic probably got a burst of adrenaline seeing the shiny rock.

Despite any future illustrations of it, the Master Emerald in the AU isn’t a perfect Diamond cut like it is in cannon. It has various imperfections, only just vaguely looking like that specific cut in general shape. It is oddly polished for being a “naturally occurring” gemstone.

The affected people being used as chaos emeralds CAN happen, you CAN use them as such… in a way. It would just be VERY unhealthy. I always chocked up Chaos energy to be something akin to Nuclear radiation in a way (but more or less not life threatening to someone), so if you tried going Super with them, that’s A LOT of poison in your system— and that’s not even getting to when, or if, crystals would start to stick out of you.

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024, #23 and 24 apology and imperfect

Two prompts today because I could not write anything yesterday.

White Pony Tattoo - Part Four (apology and imperfect)

One and a half day later, John once again found himself in front of White Pony Tattoo. He was brimmig with anticipation.

John had been able to swap today’s shift at the clinic to follow Sherlock’s order to be here at 2 PM sharp. John had been extra careful to arrive in time, taking an early bus and then loitering the spare seventeen minutes in the vicinity, looking at shop windows that did not really interest him.

Somehow, John did not want to come across as eager as he actually was to attend his appointment with Sherlock and would not like to be seen oscillating on the pavement before the front door. Although - thinking about this - it would likely be futile anyway trying to hide something from Sherlock’s uncanny habit of x-raying people with his colour changing eyes, of seeing right into John’s brain.

John had been wondering how Sherlock had known (deduced as the mesmerizing tattooist had called it) about the cover-up he had been about to request. John also was still a bit annoyed about Sherlock calling the desired design of an army soldier in full combat gear boring. When John had served in the army, nothing had been boring and he fondly remembered his time in the RAMC whenever he looked at photographs taken at this time.

++++

“I knew you’d come back.” Sherlock stood behind the counter, waiting in a relaxed posture.

Sherlock said it in a cool voice, matter-of-factly, not in a know-it-all or haughty diction. Yet, it rankled John. Feeling transparent.

“I actually think you owe me an apology.” John blurted.

“Do you now. Interesting. What for?” Sherlock stepped around the counter.

“An army soldier in combat is not boring.” There, I’ve said it, John thought. It felt good.

Sherlock raised a quizzical eye brow that reminded John of a parent chiding their child for uttering an unreasonable wish and it irked him even more.

“I don’t deal in apologies, John. Even if there had been something I should have apologized for, I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t like unapologetic people.” Mary was anapologetic, too.

Sherlock shrugged, totally uncaring about John’s confrontational stance. “Well, it was you who returned here, apparently about to accept my offer of tattooing a rising phoenix on your arm.” Sherlock pointed his index finger at the shop’s sign where the demands no arguing and no boring designs had been written.

“You have to accept the whole package which includes me, obviously. If you can’t deal with it, you may leave any time. It’s your decision.”

Sherlock leant his back casually against the counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest which showed off today’s bespoke dress shirt he wore. Its classy dove grey colour made Sherlock’s eyes gleam like multifaceted gemstones.

Of course, John did not want to leave which Sherlock must already know and since there was no other way, John swallowed the wave of recalcitrant pride that washed over him.

“Yes, okay, I accept.” John couldn’t avoid a tiny bit of teeth-gnashing, havinf to give in like this. Fuck you he mouthed under his breath.

“No, maybe later.” Sherlock deadpanned.

John’s face turned beet-red. As so often when felt cornered and embarrassed about something avoidable he had done, John attacked.

“I didn’t say that out loud now, did I?” But I feel tempted right now, dammit, John thought, hoping that his face would not give this away, as well. If it did, Sherlock mercifully did not mention it.

“No,” Sherlock said instead, chuckling, “but I can lip-read fuck you easily enough.”

Oh great, mind-reader and lip-reader. “Is there nothing I can hide from you?”

“Little. But don’t mind, practically everybody can’t.”

“That’s not a solace at all.”

“Come on, take a seat,” Sherlock motioned to a small coffee table with two armchairs, “let’s talk about your tattoo. Can I offer you some tea?”

Sitting down with a huff, John nodded. “With pleasure.”

Sherlock vanished behind the purple curtain and returned with a tea tray, laden with an expensive-looking porcelain tea set and a small plate with fresh scones. John’s mood immediately brightened upon the delicacies.

“Oh, this looks delicious. Thank you.” John took one scone.

“You have to thank Mrs Hudson, the landlady. She prepared all of this.”

Sherlock started to pour the tea and John was struck by the realization that Sherlock had to be of upper-class origin given the way he dressed, spoke and handled the tea. Transfixed, John watched Sherlock’s hands moving, like performing a dance of their own. There was a silver ring on every finger of Sherlock’s right hand. John identified a tattoo gun, a violin and one ring was made of tiny human skulls, like beads on a string.

Odd, how such a posh boy became a tattoo artist. Even a very famous one.

Taking a bite, John stated. “You’re doing great as an artist. I saw some of your works on the internet, lots of famous people that you have inked.”

“Yes, well, I don’t care about their fame. I’m interested in creating the perfect tattoo for my clients, ones that express what they feel or care about. Who they are. An image of their inner self, captured in ink on their outer skin, forever.”

John hummed. “This is very poetic!”

“Yes, yes! Excatly, John!” Sherlock jumped up and paced the room, gesticulating wildly.

“This is what I do! My ink is art, the poetry of lines, the flowing rhymes of colour, a whole story in shades of black. Everybody who is half-way talented can learn the perfect tattooing technique. But without the right design, without the firm connection to my client’s history and personality, or if you believe in the concept of a soul, then any tattoo will always be imperfect. Do you understand?”

“Yes, indeed, I do!” John exclaimed excitedly. “When I was performing surgery, of course, it was about saving lives and limbs.  But I always strived for more. I wanted them to heal perfectly. Like you said, everyone can learn to do sutures that hold the skin together. But sutures that don’t leave scars are very difficult. The desire to achieve perfection is not alien to me.”

Sherlock had calmed down enough to sit down.

“And this is why I rejected the soldier design your wanted. I never said that a soldier in army gear is boring per se, but it would be boring on your skin because you are so much more than this. You’ve fought in the army, saved lives, you’ve survived being shot and nearly dying from the infection. Therefore, the perfect design for you is the phoenix rising from the flames. You have been reborn in the blazing heat of Ahghanistan. Or was it Iraq?”

The sudden question startled John. “Aghanistan.” He answered automatically. “But please, Sherlock, allow me one thing, one question.”

“Which is?”

“How the everlasting fuck have you know, erm, deduced all of this about me?”

Sherlock laughed, full of delight.

tagging some people @totallysilvergirl @peageetibbs @lisbeth-kk  @raina-at

tagging some more @ghostofnuggetspast @friday411 @bs2sjh @weeesi @br-nz

tagging some more again @keirgreeneyes @jrow @thegildedbee @thalialunacy @gaylilsherlock