#khina carstairs
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The overwhelming urge to publish the fluffy christmasy fic I’m writing about one of my ships that still hates each other where I left off in HoS-
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Jdjsjeoensosn okay that makes more sense. I can't picture khina being shy at all, but grumpy? Yep, that is my girl khina Carstairs
Please send me any videos you find funny!!!
Gerzson vs Khina as kids
That boy was me when I first learned of crema catalana la madre que me parió it's so good
Wait but I don't really understand? Was gerzson super foodie as a boy and khina super picky? Gerzson super bubbly and amazing (I mean obviously) and Khina really shy??????
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A Carstower Christmas
@hahahax30
Watching Papa try to get her youngest brother to eat was one of Vienna’s favorite sources of entertainment. Listening to the radio with Erik and Kilian was fun and all but she had to imagine everything. The way she pictured Trudy the News Reporter could be vastly different from her brothers.
But the way sixteen-week-old Ahmad Carstairs defiantly spewed his mush of peas and sweet potatoes across Papa’s freshly ironed shirt left no room for imagination. Vienna could even smell it from the other side of the room.
Mama laughed from the other end of the dining table. Kilian sat on her lap, watching as she wrote out the patrol schedule for the following week. “I told you to wear one of the stained ones.”
From his bundle of blankets in his father’s arms, Ahmed tried to turn his tiny head towards the sound of Mama’s voice. He waved a fist in the general direction of Papa’s ruined shirt as if to say look, Mama, I did that!
Papa huffed and grabbed a rag to wipe at his front. “We have a meeting with the head of the Montevideo Institute in an hour,” he said, transferring his son to the bassinet beside him, ignoring his soft cries of protest. “Excuse me if I wanted to look half decent.”
Mama laughed again. “I didn’t look a quarter decent again till Kilian was a year old.” She looked down to inspect her outfit as proof of this statement only to find Kilian had taken a spare pen to the white puffy sleeves and collar of her maroon dress. “Never mind,” she said, prying the writing utensil from his grasp.
“Anyhow, Geovanni has two children of his own. I’m sure he would underst- Erik what are you doing?” Erik froze from halfway up the Christmas tree.
He clutched at the branches like his life depended on it. And if he wasn’t born with naturally good reflexes, it probably would have. This year, when they’d gone hunting for a Christmas tree, Kilian had run off to chase after an owl and stumbled upon the most perfect tree. No animal inhabitants, no missing branches and, best of all, it was a little over twenty feet tall. Mama had cut it down with an axe while Papa had watched with the same expression she’d seen on Erik’s face every time he ate chocolate.
“Vienna,” he hissed, “you were supposed to keep watch.” Vienna shrugged and shoved a piece of caramel popcorn in her mouth. Her parents had taken them to the fair yesterday. Mama won a tug-a-war contest against five men and got all four of them brand new teddy bears by knocking over milk cartons, five if you counted the one she gifted to Papa.
“You did it right in front of them, Er. What was I supposed to keep watch for?” Erik glowered down at her from where she sat at the base of the tree.
He humphed. “At least give me one.”
Vienna shoved every last piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Sowwy, uhing eft ta ive.” His scowl deepened.
“Viennaaaaaaaa,” he whined. She smiled as wide as she could manage with her mouth so full.
“What are you doing,” Mama asked.
“Khina, darling, schätzchen,” Papa said, “he’s your child. Isn’t that reason enough?” He cocked one eyebrow at her, as if daring her to disagree.
Mama looked ready to defend herself. But then Kilian brandished the pen like a sword in her direction, twisting around to face her, with a euphoric expression and she took a moment to consider her husband’s words. “Fair. Erik, why did you climb up the tree?”
“Because Vienna told me if I grab the star from the top it will grant me a wish! A warlock told her so!” Vienna tried to laugh but promptly choked on all the popcorn she had just consumed.
Papa ran over to her, dropping his rag on the floor in his haste. Ahmad cried out in his absence. After Papa had made sure she was okay, Vienna looked up to see Ahmad in Mama’s musculat arms and Kilian hanging to her back like a money.
She made her way over to where the rest of her family resided. Placing Ahmad in a second bassinet they kept next to the coffee table, she reached by and pried Erik off the tree.
Mama sat down beside Papa. She transferred Kilian off her back and put him on Papa’s lap, a pine needle covered Erik on her’s.
Vienna pouted. “Why don’t I get to sit on anyone’s lap?”
“You can hold Ahmad,” Papa offered. Vienna nodded excitedly. He put Kilian on his hip and, gently as he could, handed his youngest son to his daughter.
“I’m bored,” Kilian stated, once they were back in the circle. Mama tried to offer him her pocket knife in consoration. Papa snatched it out of her hand. They both huraphed in disappointment.
“Anyhow,” Mama said, making a quick recovery, “Erik, what would you have wished for if Vienna wasn’t messing with you.”
Erik’s jaw dropped in shock. “Vienna was messing with me?” he exclaimed. “Does that mean I don’t get a wish?”
Mama held him tighter to her chest. She rested her chin on the top of his brown locks. “Well, while it certainly won’t come from a star, why don’t you tell Papa and I what you were planning on wishing on for? We’ll see what we can do.” Papa nodded in agreement.
Erik sighed. “I don’t want to go to Tehran for Christmas this year.”
Papa frowned. “Why not?”
Erik shrugged, shifting from side to side. “It’s fun and all but we’ve done it every year since I can remember. I just want to do something new.”
Papa and Mama exchanged the type of look only Papas and Mamas could. It said I know what you’re thinking and you know what I’m thinking but we don’t need to say it out loud because we’re so in love and it’s super gross.
“What if we went to Vienna?” Papa suggested, turning his attention to Erik, having already gotten Mama to wordlessly agree. Maybe it was even her who first silently introduced the idea.
Vienna reminded herself to ask Aunt Rumi for more tips about interpreting this sort of thing. Vienna had seen her work firsthand. She imagined watching the Italian man (she couldn’t remember which one, there were so many) paint the Pretty Lady With No Eyebrows Smiling would be less satisfactory than watching her favorite aunt at work.
“But Vienna’s right there!” Kilian said, pointing a cubby finger in his sister’s direction. Ahmad reached up, wrapping his tiny fingers around Kilian’s pointer one.
Papa chuckled. “Vienna is also the name of the city where I grew up.” He turned to address her.
“Vienna was my home before London. But now you and your brothers and your Mama,” he paused to take Mama’s hand in his, “you’re my home.”
Mama smiled at him. “You sap.”
He smiled back at her, looking equally pleased. “Take that back.”
“Never.”
“So, Vienna?”
Mama squeezed his hand. “Vienna,” she confirmed.
“How did I get my name,” Erik wondered aloud.
Both of them immediately looked incredibly guilty. “That’s a story for another day,” Mama said hastily.
~~~~~~~~~
Khina groaned, slamming the Austrian baby naming book onto their newly purchased dining room table. The smooth oak rattled on its legs when the impact hit.
“Gerzson,” she whined, tipping her head back in order to get a better view of her husband, “why are all these names so boring?”
Gerzson paused. He was busy at work preparing dinner. “Like a good little housewife,” Matilda often joked. Teasing aside, he was most likely going to take on more and more ‘feminine’ roles once their baby was born, such as taking care of a child and cleaning up after it. Khina’s position kept her very busy.
His nose scrunched up. “Give me a few examples.”
Khina picked up the book, flipped to a random page and began reading out loud, her voice echoing throughout the house. “Louis, Theo, Mattias, Oliver, Peter. Must I go on?”
She closed the book once more, having made her point. She gave Gerzson a pointed look.
“The Carstairs surname is an elegant one. I will not see it diminished by a name as ordinary as Peter or Louis. Remind me to remind you to come down from heaven and slap me silly if we ever have any descendants named John or, I don’t know, Emma or something. Names of that variety.”
While Khina had been caught up in her speech, Gerzson had silently made his way over to the dining room and sat beside her, dipping his head down to kiss her bulging stomach.
“Are you implying,” he said slowly, “that I would have to go down to slap you because you believe, if we thought of the afterlife in a Mundane Christian sense…”
“I would be going to hell, yes” Khina finished, without the slightest bit of hesitation. “I’ve done a quite a few things in my prime, Mr. Carstairs.”
Gerzson hummed in agreement. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re still in your prime, Mrs. Carstairs.”
Before Khina could respond, the child growing inside her kicked as hard as his little body could. There was no outside confirmation but Khina knew it was a boy in her heart.
Mother’s intuition, she guessed. Her aunts had told her about it but she’d never really believed it was an actual thing until now.
Khina stood, only to sit back down again. This time in her husband’s lap. “Why are we doing this again?” she muttered, burying her face in the nock of his neck. Khina was met with the sensation of how soft Gerzson’s skin was, as she was everytime their skin made contact.
“The miracle of birth,” he said, but it sounded more like a question.
Khina huffed. “The only miracle is that you were good enough ontop to put this baby on me in the first place.”
“By the way,” she added, leaning in closer to whisper it in his ear, “I told you you’d be a natural at it.” Khina relished the way he blushed scarlet.
Gerzson leaned over and grabbed the book. “Okay, close your eyes.” Khina obliged. “Alright. I have it opened to a random page. Point anywhere on it and that’s what our first born child’s name will be.”
“Sounds like a flawless plan to me,” Khina replied sarcastically. She could practically feel Gerzson rolling his eyes.
“Just trust me.” Khina sighed heavily than nooded, swirling her finger in the air before placing it down on the paper at random.
“What’s it say?” she asked, too afraid to open her eyes.
“Constantin,” he replied.
Khina’s eyes flew open. How had she missed that one? “Constantine? Like the Roman emperor? Wasn’t he the one who burned thousands of Christians alive in that big fire?”
Wow, Khina really needed to get her mundane history lessons from anyone besides Catia and Alvaro. Now she knew too much about the incestous royals of Spain and tyrannical Roman emperors.
Gerzson shook his head. “No, Constantin. Besides, that’s Nero you’re thinking of. Constantine actually was a huge supporter of Christianity. He was the one to convert the Roman Empire from a largely pagan one to a Christian one.”
“So Constantine didn’t murder anyone?”
Gerzson eyes her suspiciously. “No but in Austrian, it says here the name means constant and steadfast.”
“That’s even more boring than a Roman emperor that didn’t kill anyone.” She closed her eyes again as Gerzson flipped to another page.
“Okay, go.” The moment her finger landed, he burst out laughing. Khina opened her eyes and went to ask what was so funny when she saw it for herself.
She had picked the exact same name, spelled with a K this time.
Gerzson, gaining his composure, gently held her finger and guided it a few names down. “Erik,” he read aloud.
“Erik,” Khina echoed. “Erik Carstairs. I like it.”
He kissed her nose. “I do too.”
Khina made a show of recoiling from him, still seated in his lap. “What is this? Where’s the cranky eighteen-year-old elder I fought to be engaged to?”
Gerzson laughed. “He grew up.”
Khina crossed her arms over her chest, a feat made very difficult by the fact that a child was living inside her. “Complain about something.”
“Khina, you can’t just-“
“The newest American president.”
Gerzson looked betrayed. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh,” she replied, “but I would.”
And as Gerzson launched into an explanation about the newest occupant of the White House was going to doom us all, Khina felt her baby—Erik—rest for the first time in hours.
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Can I ask you about the fairytales for your ships, too? Especially Khina and Gerzson whose shipname I don't have because I'm horrible at names
These are less fairytale-ish and more generally iconic couples
Carstower (Khina x Gerzson) So I actually got inspired for the enemies part of their relationship from reading Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, so George and Martha in the beginning. But overall, I think Beauty and the Beast suits them best
Datillie (Dara x Matilda x Nellie) Like Khina and Gerzson’s initial relationship, their relationship was inspired by me watching Aladdin and randomly thinking “what if Aladdin and Prince Ali were two different people and Jasmine and the two of them become a poly couple“ Thus, Datillie was born. So much of Matilda’s personality comes from Prince Ali istg
Catidore (Catia x Isidore) Without a doubt, Morticia and Gomez Addams. Isidore might not be as nuts as Gomez but they support their batshit crazy wives/girlfriends the same 😌
Rumizella (Rumi x Gizella) Snow White. One thousand and ten percent Snow White. Let me tell you, I could honest to God write a fully fledged Rumizella Snow White AU. Not that Gizella can clean for shit. Out of the two of them, Gerzson cooks and cleans WAY more (though he won’t admit he actually likes doing it)
Owevesh (Owen x Devesh) Hades and Persephone. I don’t think I even have to explain this one.
Joshil (Nyra x Alvaro) The little mermaid!! The disney version not the original version lol. Two lovely folks falling in love despite the barrier of muteness? What the fuck is more Joshil than that!
#ck💙#heart of stone#hos#khina carstairs#gerzson dewtower#dara carstairs#matilda fairchild#nellie webber#catia monteverde#isidore lightwood#rumi herondale#gizella dewtower#owen herondale#devesh heartsworn#nyra joshi#alvaro gil#ck’s ask
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So, I just woke up and saw the OC reblog... Can these questions apply to Khina, Dara, Matilda, Rumi, Gerzson, Gizella, Catia, and Isidore as well as my ~compatriotas españoles~ Alvaro and Angel?
What would it take for them to break up with someone? What would be the last straw?
What do they like that nobody else does?
Do they like children?
What recurring dreams do they have?
Also, something I just came up with: if they were mundanes, what career/life would they like to pursue?
(they're a lot so don't feel pressured please :) )
(Sorry this took so long lol)
What would it take for them to break up with someone? What would be the last straw?
Khina- Insulting her family
Dara- Being ignorant about something he tried to explain to them
Matilda- Not liking Oscar Wilde/j
Rumi- Lying to her about something important
Gerzson- Insulting his intelligence
Gizella- Defending harmful actions/people
Catia- Complaining over and over about something only to never do anything about it
Isidore- Panphobia (is panphobia a word?)
Alvaro- Not respect someone’s identity (he actually has broken up with someone for deadnaming Vicenta
Angel- Making him feel like their not equals in the relationship
What do they like that nobody else does?
Khina- Partol
Dara- Gardening
Matilda- ✨Milkmen✨
Rumi- Yoga (At least, no one in her family likes it. They can’t stay still for long enough)
Gerzson- Paperwork
Gizella- Mundane movies
Catia- Where do I start? Animal corpses, hoards of bugs so think the sky looks black, freezing weather when you’re wet
Isidore- Coffee
Alvaro- Mundane history
Angel- Waking up early
Do they like children?
Khina- She puts up with them
Dara- He loves kids but he’s very awkward around them
Matilda- She likes kids but they don’t like her
Rumi- She doesn’t love them, doesn’t hate them, they’re just kinda there
Gerzson- He actually really likes them
Gizella- She likes the idea of them but is so worried she’ll screw them up like her parents screwed her up
Catia- Kids love her but she’s wary of them
Isidore- When Grace first announced her pregnancy with Marie, Isidore thought he was gonna hate her. But now Isidore adores both his sisters and is very overprotective of them
Alvaro- He’s dreamed of having kids since he was littl. He loves them!
Angel- He likes other peoples kids. Doesn’t want the responsibility of his own children tho
What recurring dreams do they have?
I’m not going to answer this one because I’m planning on writing a short story about their dreams soon :)
If they were mundanes, what career/life would they like to pursue?
Khina- Join the army/become a politician
Dara- Librarian
Matilda- Flapper
Rumi- Party planner
Gerzson- Banker
Gizella- Actress
Catia- Live amongst the sheep
Isidore- Nanny, like I said, he likes kids!
Alvaro- Professional Nyra Joshi simp Trade ambassador
Angel- Idk why but I picture him running a general store in a small village
#heart of stone#hos#khina carstairs#dara carstairs#matilda fairchild#rumi herondale#gerzson dewtower#gizella dewtower#catia monteverde#nomintsetseg monteverde#isidore lightwood#alvaro gil#angel gil#ck’s ask#ck💙
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*breathes in* I was on the street when I saw your rb and I nearly tripped over an unsuspecting tourist, but anyways. Now is a good time to talk about our lord and saviour Gerzson Carstairs
■ - Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon [as I understood this, this is domestic]
♡ - romantic headcanon
▼ - childhood headcanon
ൠ - random headcanon
Also anything you can tell me about Catia is worth more than gold!!!!!
I’m not very good at photoshop but I couldn’t help myself-
Also dgjjgffuknvfgjnvsdvbb
Ima give you a few for some because I can’t decide which ones to tell you-
1.
Gerzson enjoys doing domestic work, like cooking, cleaning, etc. Just like Gerzson likes to watch her train, Khina loves to just sit there and watch Gerzson clean
Whenever Khina is away on business, Gerzson and the kids (yk, Erik, Vienna, Killian and Ahmad) squeeze into his and Khina’s bed. This tradition continues even when all four of them are teens.
Since their kids are very light-skinned, a lot of people assume Khina is their nanny instead of their mother so whenever they go out as a family, Gerzson starts to bring an absurd amount of photos of Khina with the kids in his pockets just to prove the racists wrong
2.
After he gets his Arch TM, him and Alastair became besties (obviously). One time Alastair tells him the story of how for his birthday one year Thomas got him a bouquet of daggers for his birthday. Gerzson gets ✨inspired✨
His first kiss was with Leonie. When he told his father his first kiss was with a warlock, that was the first time his father hit him
After a long day, him and Khina take baths together. Not in sexual way. In a “I have your back, I’ve got you, you can be vulnerable with me” way
3.
When Gizella first got her period at 9, Gerzson was the only one home and had to help her through it. Tho Gerzson had no idea what was happening to his sister either-
4.
He can speak 7 languages!!!
✨Catia✨
She’s the only one in her family that can speak English. She taught herself it by reading about fires and murders in British newspapers, yk, the interesting stuff
Idk if I’ve already mentioned this but Catia got the name Catia from a romance novel Oyuun’s fiancée’s parabatai wrote. It ends with the main character, Catia, getting killed and her boy being torn apart to create the fae queen’s wedding dress.
If Catia was alive today, her favorite book would be We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson. I read that book when I was 10 and it gave me nightmares for a year and a half. So naturally Catia would love it.
Her favorite author is Henry James
:)
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Yrah and Catia
@hahahax30 Hope you like it!!!! Make sure to tell me if anything is ooc :)
Christopher Lightwood surveyed his latest creation with a sense of pride he hadn’t experienced so strongly since he set his eyes on his son for the first time. Not that he would go as for as saying he considered the metallic oval standing before him anything akin to his child (why, by two years old Isidore could already race with his older cousins, while his device needed hours of proportion each day to even stand upright) but he certainly was extremely proud of his part in bringing both of them to life.
Thomas sat on his worktable a few paces behind, his long legs folded beside him. The scar he had gotten when a five year old Khina had stabbed him in the ankle on full display. He kept his distance from his cousin’s invention ever since it burnt off the beard he had been working so hard to grow. Alastair had teased him relentlessly for weeks.
“Do you think it is going to blow up today?” Thomas asked sincerely. “My apologies, Kit, but if it does I’m afraid I cannot assist you in rebuilding in the following fortnite. Alastair is traveling to Idris to assist Aunt Charlotte in private Clave matters, per her request, and Khina has just taught Dara to climb the bookshelves so now I have two children falling tumbling from the ceiling every chance they get.”
As if on cue, a loud crash came from upstairs, immediately followed by a panicked yelp from Grace. Christopher couldn’t blame her. When compared to Isidore, who might as well have been a mouse for all the noise he made, or rather, all the noise he didn’t make, the Carstairs twins seemed like a pack of rabid dogs, instead of the pair of painfully adorable children they were.
“I hope not,” Christopher replied cheerfully. He absentmindedly scratched at the beard beginning to form on his own chin. “Though we can never be to sure!” Thomas took that as his cue to slide off the table and step backwards until he could do so no further.
If he could actually get it to work, this device would finally earn him some respect in the shadow world. A portal that would let you travel up to 150 years in the future. Imagine that. They could bring back vaccines for deadly diseases, meet their great-grandchildren or simply just take in a new era.
“Are you ready, Tom?” Christopher asked. His fingertips hovered over the lever that would turn it on. It hummed with magic, and potential.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Thomas said, attempting to make himself as small as possible. Which, with his height and all, wasn’t very small at all.
Christopher yanked the lever down with all his force, jumping backwards and tugging on his goggles overtop his glasses. The machine whirled and spluttered, shaking so hard Christopher was afraid it would topple over. It didn’t. Instead, gentle, blue light began pouring into the empty space in the oval from all sides. It met in the center growing stronger and stronger until it looked solid. He could barely contain his excitement. It was working! The months and months that lead up to this moment were finally paying off.
Christopher was so thrilled he almost didn’t notice the blue oval shoot straight back, disappearing from view and leaving the machine empty once more. It fell to the floor with a grand thump.
Hearing it fail once more, Leonie Werger emerged from her hiding place in the stairwell. She had, somewhat reluctantly, been assisting Christopher in the magical side of tampering with the natural order of things. He may or may not have ambushed the ward of the head warlock of Amsterdam when she was in London. Either way, she was an enormous help.
“I just don’t get why I didn’t work this time,” she mused to herself, swatching away any dust floating around in her vicinity and eyeing the fallen machine critically. “You thought about your goal in going to the future this time, correct?”
“Yes! I thought about seeing Isidore’s future spouse and that sort of thing!”
Leonie’s violet iris bore into him. “‘And that sort of thing’?” she asked incredulously. She spun to face Thomas. “What exactly happened?”
Thomas stood taller, straightening his back against the wall of Christopher’s basement. There was just something about Leonie that made you want to earn her respect. Christopher couldn’t think of a single person he had ever seen slacking off in her presence. “Well, it was running smoothly, better than it had so far, but then the portal went backwards and just disappeared. It was all rather queer, it wasn’t anything like our other failed attempts.”
Leonie closed her eyes slowly, shoulders slumping. “I thought that might be what happened.” She turned her attention back to Christopher. “I’m afraid your invention did work, just not in the way you intended it to.”
“What do you mean, Miss Werger?”
“I think you may have forcefully brought Isidore’s future partner far into the future.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Catia had no idea where she was. However, she wasn’t exactly mad about that fact. She was surrounded by the most exquisite dolls, all beautifully grotesque in their own ways. Some had missing arms, others were adorably bald, the entirety of their plastic hair torn out.
In the center of the circle of dolls from Catia’s wildest sat a young child. They looked to be about her own age, if long forgotten gods of decay, reborn again to spread the mighty gospel of Death, did age.
Their head was tilted upwards slightly, presumably to ensure the black buttons resting over their eyes stayed put. They didn’t seem to have noticed her yet. Which Catia enjoyed thoroughly. Her happiest moments in recent memory were when Eej was so absorbed in a task she forgot her daughter’s presence, allowing Catia to catch a glimpse of what her next life, bound to ghost hood, would look like.
The unspoken trance the two children found themselves in was broken when the foreign child sneezed. Their head shot down to tuck their mouth into their elbow and the buttons previously resting on their eyes fell softly to the floor. When the child looked up, they looked at Catia, not with shock, but with annoyance. They asked a question in an unfamiliar language, crossing their small arms over their chest.
In lieu of answering in her own tongue, or in one of the thousands of tongues from her previous lives she had forgotten due to the traumatizing experience of being made to walk the earth again, Catia sat beside them and picked up the doll closest to her. It looked relatively normal at first glance. Its greasy black hair was parted down the middle and put into identical twin braids, its face and clothing blemish free. But when Catia turned it over, she was greeted with the most wondrous sight. The doll’s back had been neatly sliced off, a mouse’s skin sewn on in place. She would tear out all her teeth in order to keep it.
The child said a series of unfamiliar words. Catia stared at them blankly. Realization dawned on the child’s face, the annoyance disappearing as quickly as the monstrous sun banishes the glorious darkness each morning. They reached over and placed a single pale finger on the doll. “Merricat,” they said slowly, carefully pronouncing each syllable. Then they pointed at themself. “Yrah.”
Yrah. That was the child’s name. Taking the hint, Catia pointed at herself and said queen of the deformed sheep in Mongol. It was Yrah’s turn to stare at her with a blank expression. Catia’s sigh was as heavy as the shovel that would one day come to bury her in the earth. “Nomintsetseg.”
Yrah reached behind them to grab another doll. Catia took this as a sign she would be allowed to keep her teeth. She hid her disappointment as Yrah bumped their doll against hers. They said another string of words in their strange language but by the way they laid their doll on the floor and made the miniature knife sewn into the doll’s hand stab its own eyes repeatedly, Catia thought she got their meaning.
She moved her own dolls hands so they picked up one of the buttons that lay on the floor near Yrah and placed it on the doll's face.
Yrah took the button off the dolls face. Catia felt a frown appear on her face until they put it on her own right eyes. They put the other one, still on the floor, over their left eye.
They grinned at her, and she couldn’t help but grin back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Catia spent four and a half eternities (or one afternoon in mortal terms) sitting by Yrah’s side, allowing her legs to go oh so wonderfully numb.
Yrah set the surplus supplies in between the two. There were needles and multicoloured thread, a glass bowl full of blood she dearly was real, small blades to slash the dolls disgustingly standard, symmetrical faces and an extraordinary amount of buttons.
Catia was just finishing sewing an dull green button, dipped thrice in the blood (mixed in with a bit of her own, this was her first experience using needles), onto the foot of a doll called Cabbage Patch Kid when a woman opened the door to Yrah’s bedchamber. She shared the same ghostly white hair as them. With her violet eyes and regal stature, she was the splitting image of what Catia thought the queen of the underworld would look like.
Though her cool exterior melted away the second she laid her eyes upon the young Mongol girl. The woman knelt by Yrah’s side, attempting to nudge them behind her back. She asked Catia a question in that unfamiliar language Yrah seemed so fond of.
The two of them could have been speaking the holy language of the demons belonging to the deepest levels of hell for all she could understand. Catia shook her head at the woman, her long twin braids swinging by her ears. Eej had tricked her into sitting down so she could do them that morning, telling her the only way to attract tongue devouring wolves was to have unknotted hair.
Despite the woman doing her best to hide Yrah from her view, they reached out and pointed at her. “Nomintsetseg,” they said. “Mum, her name is Nomintsetseg. She doesn’t speak any English, or Salza for that matter! It’s all rather queer. But she does have a fondness for my dolls and that’s enough for me. She doesn’t treat me like the other children, Mum. Can she stay with us?”
While Catia didn’t comprehend a single syllable that came from their mouth, she did get the impression Yrah was speaking of her fondly. Catia made a mental note to bring her beloved collection of takhi teeth next time she saw them. Yrah was the only person she had met who was worthy of seeing them. Perhaps she would even let them keep one.
While it was true her interactions with others of the wretched, fleshy species she belonged to had been limited, Yrah was the first person she had ever met whose interests were so keenly aligned with hers. Catia and her mother only ventured outside their small village on occasion on account of some unspeakable horror her mother had committed before she was born. It was rare that she met other children, even rarer that she met other children who didn’t run away from her within minutes.
Yrah didn’t run away, they embraced her.
The woman appeared to be deep in thought. She gently spoke to Catia in various languages, none of which made a lick of sense to her. Though she looked quite calm, a certain panic in her eyes betrayed her.
Seemingly having exhausted all languages known to her, the woman stood. She offered one of her pale hands in Catia’s direction, her smile silently urging her to take it. Catia got to her feet and took it.
She knew it sounded silly, but something about this woman reminded her of Eej. It might have been the way they carried themselves, as if they had carried the weight of the world on their shoulders and survived. Or perhaps it was the determined look in her eyes that reminded the young girl so much of her mother, like not finding a solution to the problem at hand wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities. Catia decided she trusted the strange woman.
The woman led Catia to the dining room, Yrah following in toe. She gestured for her to sit on one of the lavish chairs. She did so, still clutching Merricat and the doll she had been constructing in Yrah’s room to her chest. Yrah climbed into the chair beside her. Apparently having noticed how famished Catia looked, she had disappeared right before breakfast, the woman placed a plate of pastries on the table. Catia glared at them conspiratorially.
The woman took a rectangular device from some unnoticeable pocket in the folds of her revoltingly elegant gown and started typing on it madly.
Yrah picked up a jam tart from the plate and started munching on it. Well if Yrah trusted the peculiar desserts…
She picked up the pastry closest to her. It was crescent shaped and repulsively soft to the touch. Catia put the entire thing in her mouth, not wanting to hold it any longer.
Yrah laughed lightly. Catia didn’t quite get the joke but she laughed as well. Laughing with what she guessed some would call a friend made her feel so light she might have floated into the sun.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Many years later, after Catia had returned to her home country, after she ventured to England for her travel year, after she married, after she gave birth to her eldest son, Andrew, she thought of the first friend she ever made as she gifted him Merricat. And she thought even more of them as she gifted the doll she made, tucked away in their room, to her son Franklin.
The doll’s name was Yrah.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Merricat is the main character in what would be Catia’s favorite book had she lived in modern times, We Have Always Lived in the Castle
Also I know the logic of how this happened didn’t make any sense but, as we say in America, “it’s Tuesday, don’t worry about it” which basically means don’t think about it too hard lmao
#i know i mentioned before that leonie was a shadowhunter but than i realized she’d be better as a warlock#the kinship chronicles#tkc#heart of stone#hos#yrah everitt-melton#catia monteverde#atalanta everitt-melton#khulgana nyambayar
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21, 25, 27, 34, 44 for the oc asks!!
21. Your most artistic OC
Pluto (Heart of Stone)!!! They’re very talented at embroidery
25. The OC that resembles you the most (same hobby, height, shared like/dislike for something etc?)
Definitely Nora (A Forest of Lavender Trees). I didn‘t give any of the characters in Heart of Stone OCD because when I started writing it, OCD wasn’t taking over my life in the way it is now. But you better believe Nora is one nudge away from a complete mental breakdown at any given moment, jUsT LiKe mE.
I‘m gonna put a snippet here if that’s okay 😅:
“You don’t understand! I am not hanging on by a thread, but by the fibres of a thread, my teeth desperately clamped onto it as I fight not to fall into the abyss below. But I cannot keep fighting much longer. There is an illness, a disease, eating away at my brain and causing my flesh to rot yet no one can see it so I am force to watch myself deteriorate before your very eyes, helpless to stop it.”
27. Any OCs that were inspired by a certain song?
No but I can’t write a scene from Catia (Heart of Stone) without Children of God by AJJ playing in the background
34. Do you have any twin characters?
Yes!!! Khina and Dara Carstairs (Khina is Heart of Stone’s MC) are twins!!!! And Finley and Jonathan in A Forest of Lavender Trees are twins
44. Something you like about your OCs in general
They’re overall acceptance!
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Okay, so I have a couple headcanons I hope aren't too ooc.
Firstly, don't ask me why, but I feel like Dara would appreciate sheep butts, I mean
That was weird, sorry
Now, when my lovely, gorgeous Gerzson Carstairs has his character development and dumps the toxicity of his family, and begins to understand how Khina has a fucking great family, he and Alastair become best friends or something. Idk, I just have the impression that they are similar characters, and that they like to have chess matches/exchange books/just hang out so often Khina sometimes feels like her husband Gerzson Carstairs loves her father more than his wife. I can imagine Gerzson talking about Alastair to Khina and Khina, who's definitely not jealous that her father is making her have less time with her husband, is basically like this: >: (
(all this while Matilda is just laughing her ass off ofc)
Btw, speaking of Matilda I think she'd love American speakeasies and would routinely visit Magnus's if she didn't live in the UK
Okay *cracks knuckles* I have three headcanons for Catia.
I can't remember if this came up in Heart of Tin, our joint fic, or if I just made it up on my own, but Catia loves *really* cold and unusual weather, right? So, hc that she takes Isidore on romantic trips to fucking Oymyakon (aka the coldest liveable place on earth) and Iceland (which ofc is cold, but also has the peculiarity of spending around two months of the year in utter darkness, and she'd ofc ask Isidore to go to Iceland during such months).
Once Isidore and her marry, she arranges to live in a house like Winchester Manor --doors leading to nothing included-- + when they have a child (I may be wrong on this one, but they had a gnc child?), Catia nails dolls's heads to the nursery's walls so that her baby will feel like they're always looked after.
And finally, ik Catia is as in touch with her Spanish side as I am to the Asian side according to my mother I have (meaning that I could have no Asian relatives at all), *but* I feel like Vicenta and Alvaro would try to show her parts of Spanish culture that she'd like. Mainly, I'm talking about the Fallas de Valencia, because Wagner look:
I'm not from Valencia, but I'm pretty sure Catia would appreciate a festival where wooden statues are burned in the middle of the night. Anyways, I feel like in the scenario Catia is willing to be a bit in touch with Spanish culture, she wouldn't miss the Fallas and would even try to make her own wooden statue.
I hope these were half-decent lol
:)
Dygruxkndy I feel like Khina would send that to him and he would be aGaSt but unable to stop watching it over and over again
AHHHHHH YES YES YES that is officially canon Except for the fact that by the end of HoS, Gerzson won’t have much of a family left to dump :)
Ohhh yeah she 100% would lol. Matilda’s favorite sport of all time is breaking the law!
I‘m pretty sure that came up in the crossover fic, yeah lol. FHHGEYJDTJFFUT I LOVE THAT CK YESSSSS. Catia has also given birth to all three of her children in Oymyakon. With her third chilld (Chimeg), her water broke in Idris but she refused to give birth until she was in Oymyakon
Sgvfgjbfgkvdgh ✨yes✨. Canon. However they don have a gnc. I think you might be thinking of Rumi’s intersex child Icarus (?). They have three kids, Andrew, Franklin (who’s Mongolian name, Olgoi-Khorkhoi, literally translates to Mongolian Death Worm) and Chimeg. But Chimeg is a trans girl is maybe that’s what you were thinking lol. But yeah I love this hc so much
I can’t reveal too much about Catia’s relationship with her Spanish half because ~spoilers~ but what I can say is YES YES YES YES YES-
CATIA WOULD LOVE THAT SO MUCH OH MY GOD
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WAGNEEEEEER
CONGRATS ON 75 YOU DESERVE EACH AND EVERY ONE <3
Could i mayhaps get a 👀, 🥳 and a 🎲
C o N Gra Ts A gA In <3
AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH ZIA!!! YOU’RE TOO KIND 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕
👀- I’ll give you a snippet from one of my TSC fics
The first time Alastair saw the Bent-Neck Man it was his first night in Cirenworth. He’d been sleeping soundly in the room their father had designated for Cordelia, however they had wordlessly switched the moment he left them to their own devices so that Alastair’s bedroom would be adjacent to the library and Cordelia would have to cross less ground in order to ogle at Cortana in her glass case, when he heard heavy, laboured breathing coming from the foot of his bed.
🥳- I’ll tell you which one of my OCs you are the most like
Like a mix of Khina Carstairs and Vicenta Sanguesa from Heart of Stone!!
🎲- I’ll give you your place on the DnD allinment chart in my ~professional~ opinion
100% Chaotic Neutral
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Moodboards for my girl characters in Heart of Stone, my fic on ao3 about Baby Carstairs all grown up and getting into TSC level chaos on their own :)
Khina Carstairs
Matilda Fairchild
Rumi Herondale
Jane Blackthorn
Gizella Dewtower
Nyra Joshi
Vicenta Sanguesa
Nellie Webber
Nomintsetseg “Catia” Monteverde
I was gonna do an actual moodboard for her but then I realized Catia wouldn’t want that bc she’s so fucking weird and I love her. But in case you’re curious, this is what I picture her looking like
@hahahax30
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Wagner I swear this was the best way to start a Monday-but-not-really. Let me just:
Ncidsjkansoamzksmsosn
BCISNSOSMAISNZISNSISNDIDJSOSKSNSISNS
Okay I fucking love this family and my favourite ship is the absolute best
A Carstower Christmas
@hahahax30
Watching Papa try to get her youngest brother to eat was one of Vienna’s favorite sources of entertainment. Listening to the radio with Erik and Kilian was fun and all but she had to imagine everything. The way she pictured Trudy the News Reporter could be vastly different from her brothers.
But the way sixteen-week-old Ahmad Carstairs defiantly spewed his mush of peas and sweet potatoes across Papa’s freshly ironed shirt left no room for imagination. Vienna could even smell it from the other side of the room.
Mama laughed from the other end of the dining table. Kilian sat on her lap, watching as she wrote out the patrol schedule for the following week. “I told you to wear one of the stained ones.”
From his bundle of blankets in his father’s arms, Ahmed tried to turn his tiny head towards the sound of Mama’s voice. He waved a fist in the general direction of Papa’s ruined shirt as if to say look, Mama, I did that!
Papa huffed and grabbed a rag to wipe at his front. “We have a meeting with the head of the Montevideo Institute in an hour,” he said, transferring his son to the bassinet beside him, ignoring his soft cries of protest. “Excuse me if I wanted to look half decent.”
Mama laughed again. “I didn’t look a quarter decent again till Kilian was a year old.” She looked down to inspect her outfit as proof of this statement only to find Kilian had taken a spare pen to the white puffy sleeves and collar of her maroon dress. “Never mind,” she said, prying the writing utensil from his grasp.
“Anyhow, Geovanni has two children of his own. I’m sure he would underst- Erik what are you doing?” Erik froze from halfway up the Christmas tree.
He clutched at the branches like his life depended on it. And if he wasn’t born with naturally good reflexes, it probably would have. This year, when they’d gone hunting for a Christmas tree, Kilian had run off to chase after an owl and stumbled upon the most perfect tree. No animal inhabitants, no missing branches and, best of all, it was a little over twenty feet tall. Mama had cut it down with an axe while Papa had watched with the same expression she’d seen on Erik’s face every time he ate chocolate.
“Vienna,” he hissed, “you were supposed to keep watch.” Vienna shrugged and shoved a piece of caramel popcorn in her mouth. Her parents had taken them to the fair yesterday. Mama won a tug-a-war contest against five men and got all four of them brand new teddy bears by knocking over milk cartons, five if you counted the one she gifted to Papa.
“You did it right in front of them, Er. What was I supposed to keep watch for?” Erik glowered down at her from where she sat at the base of the tree.
He humphed. “At least give me one.”
Vienna shoved every last piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Sowwy, uhing eft ta ive.” His scowl deepened.
“Viennaaaaaaaa,” he whined. She smiled as wide as she could manage with her mouth so full.
“What are you doing,” Mama asked.
“Khina, darling, schätzchen,” Papa said, “he’s your child. Isn’t that reason enough?” He cocked one eyebrow at her, as if daring her to disagree.
Mama looked ready to defend herself. But then Kilian brandished the pen like a sword in her direction, twisting around to face her, with a euphoric expression and she took a moment to consider her husband’s words. “Fair. Erik, why did you climb up the tree?”
“Because Vienna told me if I grab the star from the top it will grant me a wish! A warlock told her so!” Vienna tried to laugh but promptly choked on all the popcorn she had just consumed.
Papa ran over to her, dropping his rag on the floor in his haste. Ahmad cried out in his absence. After Papa had made sure she was okay, Vienna looked up to see Ahmad in Mama’s musculat arms and Kilian hanging to her back like a money.
She made her way over to where the rest of her family resided. Placing Ahmad in a second bassinet they kept next to the coffee table, she reached by and pried Erik off the tree.
Mama sat down beside Papa. She transferred Kilian off her back and put him on Papa’s lap, a pine needle covered Erik on her’s.
Vienna pouted. “Why don’t I get to sit on anyone’s lap?”
“You can hold Ahmad,” Papa offered. Vienna nodded excitedly. He put Kilian on his hip and, gently as he could, handed his youngest son to his daughter.
“I’m bored,” Kilian stated, once they were back in the circle. Mama tried to offer him her pocket knife in consoration. Papa snatched it out of her hand. They both huraphed in disappointment.
“Anyhow,” Mama said, making a quick recovery, “Erik, what would you have wished for if Vienna wasn’t messing with you.”
Erik’s jaw dropped in shock. “Vienna was messing with me?” he exclaimed. “Does that mean I don’t get a wish?”
Mama held him tighter to her chest. She rested her chin on the top of his brown locks. “Well, while it certainly won’t come from a star, why don’t you tell Papa and I what you were planning on wishing on for? We’ll see what we can do.” Papa nodded in agreement.
Erik sighed. “I don’t want to go to Tehran for Christmas this year.”
Papa frowned. “Why not?”
Erik shrugged, shifting from side to side. “It’s fun and all but we’ve done it every year since I can remember. I just want to do something new.”
Papa and Mama exchanged the type of look only Papas and Mamas could. It said I know what you’re thinking and you know what I’m thinking but we don’t need to say it out loud because we’re so in love and it’s super gross.
“What if we went to Vienna?” Papa suggested, turning his attention to Erik, having already gotten Mama to wordlessly agree. Maybe it was even her who first silently introduced the idea.
Vienna reminded herself to ask Aunt Rumi for more tips about interpreting this sort of thing. Vienna had seen her work firsthand. She imagined watching the Italian man (she couldn’t remember which one, there were so many) paint the Pretty Lady With No Eyebrows Smiling would be less satisfactory than watching her favorite aunt at work.
“But Vienna’s right there!” Kilian said, pointing a cubby finger in his sister’s direction. Ahmad reached up, wrapping his tiny fingers around Kilian’s pointer one.
Papa chuckled. “Vienna is also the name of the city where I grew up.” He turned to address her.
“Vienna was my home before London. But now you and your brothers and your Mama,” he paused to take Mama’s hand in his, “you’re my home.”
Mama smiled at him. “You sap.”
He smiled back at her, looking equally pleased. “Take that back.”
“Never.”
“So, Vienna?”
Mama squeezed his hand. “Vienna,” she confirmed.
“How did I get my name,” Erik wondered aloud.
Both of them immediately looked incredibly guilty. “That’s a story for another day,” Mama said hastily.
~~~~~~~~~
Khina groaned, slamming the Austrian baby naming book onto their newly purchased dining room table. The smooth oak rattled on its legs when the impact hit.
“Gerzson,” she whined, tipping her head back in order to get a better view of her husband, “why are all these names so boring?”
Gerzson paused. He was busy at work preparing dinner. “Like a good little housewife,” Matilda often joked. Teasing aside, he was most likely going to take on more and more ‘feminine’ roles once their baby was born, such as taking care of a child and cleaning up after it. Khina’s position kept her very busy.
His nose scrunched up. “Give me a few examples.”
Khina picked up the book, flipped to a random page and began reading out loud, her voice echoing throughout the house. “Louis, Theo, Mattias, Oliver, Peter. Must I go on?”
She closed the book once more, having made her point. She gave Gerzson a pointed look.
“The Carstairs surname is an elegant one. I will not see it diminished by a name as ordinary as Peter or Louis. Remind me to remind you to come down from heaven and slap me silly if we ever have any descendants named John or, I don’t know, Emma or something. Names of that variety.”
While Khina had been caught up in her speech, Gerzson had silently made his way over to the dining room and sat beside her, dipping his head down to kiss her bulging stomach.
“Are you implying,” he said slowly, “that I would have to go down to slap you because you believe, if we thought of the afterlife in a Mundane Christian sense…”
“I would be going to hell, yes” Khina finished, without the slightest bit of hesitation. “I’ve done a quite a few things in my prime, Mr. Carstairs.”
Gerzson hummed in agreement. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re still in your prime, Mrs. Carstairs.”
Before Khina could respond, the child growing inside her kicked as hard as his little body could. There was no outside confirmation but Khina knew it was a boy in her heart.
Mother’s intuition, she guessed. Her aunts had told her about it but she’d never really believed it was an actual thing until now.
Khina stood, only to sit back down again. This time in her husband’s lap. “Why are we doing this again?” she muttered, burying her face in the nock of his neck. Khina was met with the sensation of how soft Gerzson’s skin was, as she was everytime their skin made contact.
“The miracle of birth,” he said, but it sounded more like a question.
Khina huffed. “The only miracle is that you were good enough ontop to put this baby on me in the first place.”
“By the way,” she added, leaning in closer to whisper it in his ear, “I told you you’d be a natural at it.” Khina relished the way he blushed scarlet.
Gerzson leaned over and grabbed the book. “Okay, close your eyes.” Khina obliged. “Alright. I have it opened to a random page. Point anywhere on it and that’s what our first born child’s name will be.”
“Sounds like a flawless plan to me,” Khina replied sarcastically. She could practically feel Gerzson rolling his eyes.
“Just trust me.” Khina sighed heavily than nooded, swirling her finger in the air before placing it down on the paper at random.
“What’s it say?” she asked, too afraid to open her eyes.
“Constantin,” he replied.
Khina’s eyes flew open. How had she missed that one? “Constantine? Like the Roman emperor? Wasn’t he the one who burned thousands of Christians alive in that big fire?”
Wow, Khina really needed to get her mundane history lessons from anyone besides Catia and Alvaro. Now she knew too much about the incestous royals of Spain and tyrannical Roman emperors.
Gerzson shook his head. “No, Constantin. Besides, that’s Nero you’re thinking of. Constantine actually was a huge supporter of Christianity. He was the one to convert the Roman Empire from a largely pagan one to a Christian one.”
“So Constantine didn’t murder anyone?”
Gerzson eyes her suspiciously. “No but in Austrian, it says here the name means constant and steadfast.”
“That’s even more boring than a Roman emperor that didn’t kill anyone.” She closed her eyes again as Gerzson flipped to another page.
“Okay, go.” The moment her finger landed, he burst out laughing. Khina opened her eyes and went to ask what was so funny when she saw it for herself.
She had picked the exact same name, spelled with a K this time.
Gerzson, gaining his composure, gently held her finger and guided it a few names down. “Erik,” he read aloud.
“Erik,” Khina echoed. “Erik Carstairs. I like it.”
He kissed her nose. “I do too.”
Khina made a show of recoiling from him, still seated in his lap. “What is this? Where’s the cranky eighteen-year-old elder I fought to be engaged to?”
Gerzson laughed. “He grew up.”
Khina crossed her arms over her chest, a feat made very difficult by the fact that a child was living inside her. “Complain about something.”
“Khina, you can’t just-“
“The newest American president.”
Gerzson looked betrayed. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh,” she replied, “but I would.”
And as Gerzson launched into an explanation about the newest occupant of the White House was going to doom us all, Khina felt her baby—Erik—rest for the first time in hours.
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Okay, but I love how Dara and Gerzson hold their intelligence in such a high esteem.
Milkmen, lol. And I might be a little bit of a mix between Gerzson and Catia. AND ÁLVARO SPAIN'S HISTORY IS A FUCKING SHITSHOW ME LIKES IT TOO AND ANGEL ME TOO
I love Gerzson and Alvaro
Interesting~
I KNEW MATILDA WOULD BE A FLAPPER GIRL SHE JUST HAS THE VIBE
So, I just woke up and saw the OC reblog... Can these questions apply to Khina, Dara, Matilda, Rumi, Gerzson, Gizella, Catia, and Isidore as well as my ~compatriotas españoles~ Alvaro and Angel?
What would it take for them to break up with someone? What would be the last straw?
What do they like that nobody else does?
Do they like children?
What recurring dreams do they have?
Also, something I just came up with: if they were mundanes, what career/life would they like to pursue?
(they're a lot so don't feel pressured please :) )
(Sorry this took so long lol)
What would it take for them to break up with someone? What would be the last straw?
Khina- Insulting her family
Dara- Being ignorant about something he tried to explain to them
Matilda- Not liking Oscar Wilde/j
Rumi- Lying to her about something important
Gerzson- Insulting his intelligence
Gizella- Defending harmful actions/people
Catia- Complaining over and over about something only to never do anything about it
Isidore- Panphobia (is panphobia a word?)
Alvaro- Not respect someone’s identity (he actually has broken up with someone for deadnaming Vicenta
Angel- Making him feel like their not equals in the relationship
What do they like that nobody else does?
Khina- Partol
Dara- Gardening
Matilda- ✨Milkmen✨
Rumi- Yoga (At least, no one in her family likes it. They can’t stay still for long enough)
Gerzson- Paperwork
Gizella- Mundane movies
Catia- Where do I start? Animal corpses, hoards of bugs so think the sky looks black, freezing weather when you’re wet
Isidore- Coffee
Alvaro- Mundane history
Angel- Waking up early
Do they like children?
Khina- She puts up with them
Dara- He loves kids but he’s very awkward around them
Matilda- She likes kids but they don’t like her
Rumi- She doesn’t love them, doesn’t hate them, they’re just kinda there
Gerzson- He actually really likes them
Gizella- She likes the idea of them but is so worried she’ll screw them up like her parents screwed her up
Catia- Kids love her but she’s wary of them
Isidore- When Grace first announced her pregnancy with Marie, Isidore thought he was gonna hate her. But now Isidore adores both his sisters and is very overprotective of them
Alvaro- He’s dreamed of having kids since he was littl. He loves them!
Angel- He likes other peoples kids. Doesn’t want the responsibility of his own children tho
What recurring dreams do they have?
I’m not going to answer this one because I’m planning on writing a short story about their dreams soon :)
If they were mundanes, what career/life would they like to pursue?
Khina- Join the army/become a politician
Dara- Librarian
Matilda- Flapper
Rumi- Party planner
Gerzson- Banker
Gizella- Actress
Catia- Live amongst the sheep
Isidore- Nanny, like I said, he likes kids!
Alvaro- Professional Nyra Joshi simp Trade ambassador
Angel- Idk why but I picture him running a general store in a small village
#heart of stone#hos#khina carstairs#dara carstairs#matilda fairchild#rumi herondale#gerzson dewtower#gizella dewtower#catia monteverde#nomintsetseg monteverde#isidore lightwood#alvaro gil#angel gil
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