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Part 2 of Shadows and Starlight (A Stolas and Blitzø Saga)
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Published:
2024-04-10
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2024-04-10
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4,744
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2/2
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Fragmented Trust

Summary:

"It’s only at night, as he’s lying down, that Stolas feels his depression slipping back into his bones, weighing heavily on him. So, he’s taken to reading the night away, tracking stars, and even meal prepping. To get sleep in, Stolas is taking naps in front of the TV with the sounds of his daughter’s little bursts of laughter comforting him."
OR
The aftermath of Blitzø finding Stolas depressed

(Recommend reading "Celestial Sorrows" as this is a direct continuation)

Notes:

*thrusts this into your hands*
Y'all asked for it, I delivered :)

TW: Canon-typical sexual implications, lots of mental health issues, etc. Not intended for younger audiences

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

This week has been great for Stolas. He has Octavia again and he’s been teaching her more intense spells in between their binge-watching of Hellanovella episodes. He’s laughed with her over the stupid plot points and smiled in pride at Via naming the stars and planets without needing assistance. She’s learned so much and, despite her angsty nature, looks like she’s genuinely enjoying her time with her father. 

It’s only at night, as he’s lying down, that Stolas feels his depression slipping back into his bones, weighing heavily on him. So, he’s taken to reading the night away, tracking stars, and even meal prepping. To get sleep in, Stolas is taking naps in front of the TV with the sounds of his daughter’s little bursts of laughter comforting him. 

Octavia definitely notices Stolas’ lack of real sleep, maybe that’s why she’s so willing to spend time with him, but Stolas can’t complain. He and Via are bonding, closing the rift that Stella caused between them. It’s been helping. 

And, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, the little texts from Blitzø are also helping. They come in every other day or so. Stolas doesn’t quite understand why Blitzø cares so much, but he can’t complain. It almost feels like a genuine connection. Like Blitzø could maybe reciprocate the feelings Stolas has for him; the feelings Stolas refuses to name, because if Blitzø doesn’t return them, it’ll hurt less if his emotions remain nameless. 

u gud brdbrane? the text pops up on Stolas’ phone. He bites down a trill of excitement and closes his phone, instead focusing on his dearest Starfire. They are upping the skill level, and thus, the danger of the spells. In fact, Stolas needs so badly to focus on his daughter and not the imp he’s enamored with, that he turns off his phone completely. He doesn’t need the distraction. 

By the time Octavia and Stolas are done with their lesson and celebratory dessert, they’re both ecstatic from the successes, but exhausted nonetheless. Spells take energy and focus, so it only makes sense for Stolas to want to collapse into bed afterward. 

However, as soon as his head hits the pillows, the numbness sinks back in. And so, Stolas gets up, throws his robe on, and sits at his desk, skimming over some book on some Earthly animal he doesn't care all that much about. And then he gets interrupted. By a little red imp climbing onto Stolas’ balcony in some form of panic. Stolas doesn’t understand Blitzø’s hectic nature but rushes to open the doors for him regardless. 

“Blitzy, is everything okay?” Stolas asks as he ushers his lover inside. 

“You tell me!” Blitzø yells, throwing his arms up. “How can you act like everything is fine? How can you expect me not to freak the fuck out after leaving me on read for hours on end? How can you just pretend everything is fucking fine when it’s not, Stolas?”

Stolas just tilts his head. Yes, he didn’t answer Blitzø’s text, but he didn’t think it was all that big of a deal. Blitzø doesn’t respond to most of his messages, after all. “Everything is fine. Is it not for you?” he tries to ask softly. He tries to push everything from that night away. Blitzø doesn’t need to worry, they should be able to go back to how they were easily. So why was Blitzø struggling so much with forgetting?

“No, things aren’t fine with you !” Blitzø is still fuming. 

Stolas honestly doesn’t know what’s wrong. Or what Blitzø thinks is wrong.

“No, I had a wonderful day with Via. We practiced some spells and ate some ice cream afterward. She's been improving greatly.” Stolas tries to gently steer Blitzø back into his normal self. His selfish self. Stolas doesn’t like how vulnerable Blitzø saw him. He wants to forget about it. He wishes Blitzø would want to forget about it too. 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” It’s almost a warning. A hint that Blitzø genuinely wants to talk about this. 

Stolas doesn’t want to continue this conversation though. So, he darkens his eyes and positions himself in the most provocative way his obnoxiously long legs allow him to. “You’re right, the day could be much better if you ravish me, my darling Blitzy,” he purrs. He acts like his life depends on it. He wants to push this version of Blitzø away, it’s not something Stolas is used to. 

Blitzø ignores him and marches to Stolas’ nightstand. He pulls on the top left drawer, the same one Stolas sent him to that night . The drawer doesn’t budge. It’s locked again. Hiding the little white pills. Blitzø tugs on it again, putting his whole body weight into it. 

“The handcuffs are in the right drawer, sweetheart,” Stolas murmurs, sauntering behind Blitzø. Stolas gets no response, instead, Blitzø is still pulling aggressively on the handle. So, Stolas takes things one step further and gets down on his knees. He’s still slightly taller than the imp like this, but it’s better. It evens the playing field slightly. Stolas runs his hands up the back of Blitzø’s legs, finally catching his attention.

Blitzø whips around and glares at the prince, one leg twitchy like it’s about to kick Stolas. “Fuck. No,” is his response. Stolas just tilts his head, trying his best to look confused. He’s willing to play stupid. He wants Blitzø to let this whole thing go. “Either open this damn drawer or I’m gonna smash it.”

Stolas doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to open the 'damn drawer' but he also isn’t a fan of dealing with buying a new one. Stolas gives up. He slouches, still on his knees, and looks straight at Blitzø. “There’s nothing in there you need to worry yourself over,” he says honestly. 

A huff. “Then open the fucking thing,” Blitzø gestures to the dresser. 

Stolas rubs one of his hands on the side of his head to fend off an oncoming headache. He knows he should be honest, but he also doesn’t understand why this matters so much to the assassin. And then, something clicks in his head. “If you want another angelic weapon for your employees or yourself I can get one to you within the next two days,” he straightens up, proud that he’s figured out what has been going through Blitzø’s head. Blitzø just gapes at Stolas, who incorrectly assumes it’s a sign of satisfied shock. “Now that that’s figured out, and you’re here regardless,” Stolas’ hands go back to Blitzø, ready to get intimate. 

Almost as soon as the first caress begins, Blitzø stumbles back and aggressively hits the dresser. Stolas hides a flinch, that cannot be good for his back. Or his dresser if the dents left behind by Blitzo's spikes are any indication. “ Fuck no, Stolas! Do you think I’m that selfish that I’m just going to forget that you’re fucking suicidal? ”

Stolas blinks his primary eyes. Then his secondary eyes. Then both at the same time. Is he dreaming? Stolas smiles softly. “I don’t think you’re selfish, darling.” Stolas clambers up to his feet, holding out a hand for Blitzø. It’s not an unusual offer. What is unusual is the cold hand actually gripping Stolas’. 

Stolas leads them onto the little chaise lounge. They both get situated in silence. Stolas really doesn’t want to talk about this, but he knows he has to. He doesn’t understand Blitzø’s interference in this part of his life, but he doesn’t like how it’s causing the smaller demon emotional turmoil. So, he sucks it up and prepares himself for a conversation. A real one. One that doesn’t happen when he’s so depressed all Stolas can do is blink. Don’t get Stolas wrong, he still has to hide the worst of it, but he doesn’t like what he’s doing to his dear Blitzy. 

“I’m not suicidal, Blitzø.” It’s said with honesty. With conviction. Only the truth. Yes, Stolas has maybe thought about ending it once or twice, but he has to continue to live. For Octavia. For Blitzø. To stick it to Stella. And maybe, he has to continue to live for himself. He doesn't know for certain if that last one is truthful or not, though.

Blitzø mumbles something under his breath. Stolas can’t understand it. “You take antidepressants,” Blitzø finally says clearly. It’s a statement, but it’s also a question. 

“I do. However, just because I have them,” he doesn’t like calling them what they are, doesn’t like admitting how damaged he is, “doesn’t mean I’m going to off myself.” 

“You had a dagger made of angelic steel.” It’s another question disguised as a statement. 

Stolas doesn’t want to admit to anything more. So, he nods. “And it was never used.”

“But how can I trust that?”

And suddenly, Blitzø’s trust issues come into play. Stolas can’t comfort him. He can’t make Blitzø trust him. So, he does something else, something possibly stupid. “You have that weapon now. Even if it was used, I cannot use it anymore.” Stolas shrugs. 

Blitzø goes quiet again. Stolas isn’t sure he likes this quiet Blitzø. “ That weapon?” he asks. He’s looking at Stolas now, eyes large, daring Stolas to say something in response. 

Stolas awkwardly clears his throat. “Yes.”

“Is there another one I need to pry off of you?” Blitzø asks it slowly, like talking to a toddler to teach them a lesson. It’s a question Blitzø already knows the answer to. It’s an answer he doesn’t like. But why be a Goetian prince if Stolas can’t use the power to his advantage? So what, he bought another deadly dagger? It’s a failsafe. It makes Stolas feel better, knowing he has an out if it’s needed. 

And so, Stolas stays quiet. 

“Unlock the fucking drawer, Stols.” It’s harsh but whispered. 

“Why must you invade my privacy?” Stolas tries to distract him. Tries to keep his mind focused on an argument rather than stealing a stupidly expensive piece of steel. 

“Satan help me, unlock the drawer Stolas or I will destroy the damn thing.”

“Blitzy,” Stolas coos, “there’s no need for violence. Not now.” His attempt at placating the smaller demon doesn’t succeed. Not that Stolas thought it would. Blitzø is headstrong and stubborn. And apparently caring for Stolas. Even though Stolas isn’t a part of I.M.P. or his lifelong best friend or his adopted daughter, Blitzø still cares for Stolas more than just an easy and kinky fuckbuddy. It’s confusing and it hurts his brain, so Stolas does his best to ignore that thought. 

“There is if you don’t open the fucking drawer.” Blitzø is getting fed up, twitching and reaching toward something near his waist. Probably a weapon of his own to threaten Stolas with. Or threaten his nightstand. 

With a sigh and an overdramatic flick of the wrist, Stolas unlocks the drawer and floats his recently acquired dagger to Blitzø. Then, he collapses back on the chaise. Fully lying down, legs dangling over Blitzø’s. He does this to hide his own feelings of disappointment at losing the weapon again as well as so he doesn’t have to see Blitzø’s disappointment. If Stolas is overdramatic about this, it means he feels the real things less. 

Everything is still for a moment. Or a minute. Or an hour. Or a day. There is no time in this silence. Just Blitzø’s quiet shock and Stolas’ overdramatic stretched body. 

Until Blitzø aggressively pushes Stolas’ long limbs off his own and stomps out the way he came. No parting goodbye, no disgruntled glare, nothing. 

At least this way, Stolas finally gets what he’s been expecting: Blitzø giving up on him.

Chapter 2

Notes:

Okay so... I hope I did Blitzø's perspective justice and I REALLY hope he isn't too OOC. He's so complex but I wanted to push myself a little bit with this addition :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Blitzø doesn’t know what he’s doing. Fizz was never this angsty, just overly anxious at times. He is supposed to be the mentally unstable one. Not Stolas . Not the self-centered prissy prince. Blitzø only knows how to deal with his own bouts of depression. Which usually includes violence or drinking. Sometimes both at the same time. And then the next day, everything is normal again. Or as normal as it can be for a low-life citizen of Hell. As normal as it can be for an assassin with no emotional availability. 

Fuck that bird for getting into Blitzø’s emotions. He’s not supposed to have those. He’s supposed to be the shitty one. The one that everyone leaves because he purposefully pushes them away. It happened with Fizz. Not that either imp understands what happened during the aftermath of the--well, Blitzø doesn’t want to bring up those memories right now. Right now, he needs to focus on the problem at hand. The problem in his hand. Particularly the one that shines with a golden hue with each twirl of his fingers. And the same problem is locked in the safe the Grimoire is usually kept in. Two problems, but hopefully Blitzø only needs one solution. 

The one solution Blitzø tried failed miserably. And that in itself would normally make him give up. Say fuck it and move on with his life. Blitzø isn’t one to care about his fuck-ups, so why does this one hurt so much?  

Some part of Blitzø thinks this was all a part of Stolas’ plan. Make sure Blitzø sees how he’s not perfect so Blitzø will stay. Not that he needs the incentive. The fucks aren’t bad. And he needs the stupid heavy fucking book so he can make money. And provide for his daughter. And himself, but that doesn’t matter nearly as much as making sure Loonie is comfortable, well-fed, happy, and healthy. Happy is debatable, but Blitzø understands. She was in prison basically her whole life and she probably thinks Blitzø adopting her was a pity thing. And in part, it was. Blitzø saw a broken demon, damaged and so similar to himself and he didn’t want her to end up like he did. Like he is. 

Blitzø may have been delusional at some points in his life, but he’s not stupid. He knows what he does and why he does it most of the time. So why can’t he figure this thing with Stolas out? 

It was stupid for him to leave Stolas after taking the angelic dagger, but what was he supposed to do? Spiral in front of some powerful demon who likes the novelty of getting fucked by someone lesser than him? Like he’d ever do that. So, Blitzø did what he does best: he ran. 

Not that Stolas tried to stop him. He didn’t even look up from his sprawl on that stupid fancy-ass couch. Maybe Blitzø should be offended by Stolas’ lack of response, but if anything, it terrifies him. He still remembers clambering into Stolas’ bedroom on the full moon. The room was dark and moody and when Blitzø turned the lights on, he was expecting Stolas perfectly preened and spread out seductively on the bed. Instead, he saw the Goetian looking dead. Where plucked feathers showed pale skin and eyes so dull Blitzø didn’t even recognize them as Stolas’. 

Fuck that stupid bird for making Blitzø feel things that aren’t anger. Anger he can deal with. Violence deals with anger exceptionally well. And in his place of work, violence is expected. 

Blitzø wants to be angry at Stolas for getting another stupid angelic weapon. He wants to be pissed off because that’s something he can handle. But all he feels is dread. And fear. He doesn’t understand it. Stolas and Blitzø have an agreement, a verbal contract. They use each other. Blitzø for access to the living realm and Stolas for the power play and experimenting with his sexuality now that his abusive ex is of his is out of the picture. This agreement was meant to be emotionless. Just another thing to go through the motions. Blitzø does what he has to in order to survive and this thing with Stolas was just supposed to be another one of those things. So why did it turn into something different?

Blitzø, annoyed and angry at himself for getting too attached, chucks the dagger at the wall of his office. Not anywhere near the door, fuck no. He doesn’t want to even risk harming and most likely killing anyone in the company workplace. He cares for these fuckers too much. So when did Stolas worm his way into Blitzø’s small list of people he cares about? 

Moxxie knocks on the door. Blitzø knows it’s Moxxie based on the knock. It’s ever so slightly softer than Millie’s knock and he actually waits to come in until Blitzø tells him to.

“Please tell me we have a client,” Blitzø calls out. He wants to shoot a bitch. Or two. Or five. Or however many he has to until he can ignore these feelings. But he also needs to message Stolas. Needs to make sure he’s still… as okay as someone with depression can be. 

Blitzø doesn’t know how he hadn’t recognized the signs sooner. For Hell’s sake, he had to go through his own depressive episode after the circus. After his family. After Fizz. He still doesn’t want to think about that too much.

Moxxie creeks the door open, Millie peaking around his shoulder. The couple stares at Blitzø, trying to figure something out. They’re studying Blitzø like he’s some kind of experiment. They’re studying Blitzø like Stolas studies his Grimoire during those early mornings, when Blitzø actually stays the night and he thinks Blitzø is still asleep. 

“No, Sir,” Moxxie bumbles around. His tail is twitching in a nervous manner. Meanwhile, Millie looks stoic, only a slight sheen in her eyes is betraying an emotion. Blitzø is too selfish to figure out what emotion that is. 

“His Highness is here to see ya’!” Millie bursts out, bouncing slightly on her toes. 

Blitzø almost falls out of his chair. Yes, it’s been two days since either has seen one another. Or texted. Or called. Basically, it’s been two days since Blitzø ran away from Stolas like the coward he is. That’s all Blitzø ever does: run. It’s what he wants to do now. But he doesn’t. Instead, he waves his hand in front of his face. “Let ‘im in. And make sure the door is closed.” If Stolas is this desperate to talk-- weird how the tables have turned-- then Blitzø is going to make sure it is as private and comfortable as it can be for the royal. 

“What’s up?” Blitzø asks as Stolas sits awkwardly on the other side of the desk. Like any client would do. Like Blitzø is a boss and Stolas is his employee. It’s kind of fucked up, how their power dynamic always seems to lead back to this: the opposite of what society expects from the two of them. Blitzø shifts himself so his boots are on his desk, leaning back in his chair. 

Stolas doesn’t look bad. If anything, he looks exactly as Blitzø expects a royal Goetian to look. He’s well dressed with feathers shining and shimmering. His eyes don’t display any sort of emotion and his beak is put into that of a deliberate stoic expression. Nothing about Stolas gives away why he’s here. It’s infuriating. 

Stolas looks directly into Blitzø’s eyes. It’s so easy for him. Nothing like their last two exchanges. It makes Blitzø’s anger, or whatever he's feeling, burn a little more. “I am here to let you know, that if it is what you desire, we can discontinue our verbal contract,” Stolas says it so straightforwardly. Like he knows that is what Blitzø wants. Like that’s what he wholeheartedly believes. 

“Why the fuck would I want that? I need the stupid fucking book for my job, birdbrain.”

Stolas’ mouth curls up into a self-deprecating smile. That’s not supposed to be there. Stolas is supposed to be confident and all-knowing. “You can continue to use my Grimoire. I’ll just stop by here once every moon cycle to take it back. After I am done, I’ll return it. No favors necessary, I will warn you when I am coming beforehand, we don’t even have to talk if you do not wish to.”

Blitzø’s jaw drops. Literally. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so shocked. Well, no, seeing Fizz burnt to a crisp-- nope, still not thinking about it. “The fuck?”

Stolas clears his throat. Something Blitzø realizes is a nervous tick. It makes something inside him squeeze uncomfortably. “I know I am a lot, Blitzø. It was never my intention to let you into the parts you have, unfortunately, uncovered. I doubt any part of you is willing to continue our agreement, and therefore, I am letting you out. Letting you free.” He’s speaking so formally. Nothing like the squirmy little brat he’s like when tied up. It’s a tone Blitzø hates. Especially coming from Stolas. 

And, Blitzø does what he does best. He lashes out. He stops leaning back, too stiff to continue to do so. He sits in his desk chair as normally as a strung-up, confused, and anxious imp can. He picks up a horse figuring balancing on his desk and chucks it at Stolas. It hits the imaginary target on his chest and bounces onto Stolas’ lap. It doesn’t hurt him, of course not, that was never Blitzø’s intention. 

“I can understand your anger that I did not offer this exchange sooner. I wish I could tell you that it has just recently come to mind, however, in reality, I was selfish. I wanted intimacy and company and you seemed more than willing to comply so long as you got something in return. And so, I am truly sorry for my selfishness.”

Another horse flies Stolas’ way. This time, it hits his left shoulder. It bounces onto the floor. Stolas and Blitzø both look at their feet, to the horse. Stolas uses his magic to float both figurines to the desk, gently placing them where Blitzø had them previously. 

“You’re a stupid asshole,” Blitzø glares at Stolas. In response, the owl nods. He nods like he knows it’s the truth. It pisses Blitzø off even more. “You think I’ve been checking in on you for what? My own gain? You think I drove, panicked and stressed and speeding and climbed up to your fucking bedroom just because? Yeah, I’m a fucking selfish prick but some stupid part of me fucking cares about your feathered ass more than just another fuck buddy and that pisses me off!” Blitzø wants to throw something real. He wants to pull the stupid dagger from where it’s caught in the wall and chuck it right back into the wall, but he doesn’t. “It also pisses me off that I don’t know what to do with you!” he slams his hands down on the desk. He’s standing on his chair now. His eyes are burning but there’s no way he’s going to cry over a spoiled prince. So, he pushes down that feeling and instead glares at Stolas. 

It’s Stolas’ turn to drop his jaw. He keeps opening and closing his beak. He wasn’t expecting this from Blitzø, Blitzø can tell. Stolas is trying his best to figure out where to go from here, he’s trying to push Blitzø away. But that’s what Blitzø does best. And he’ll be dead before he lets someone else push him away before he can do it first. 

“I,” Stolas starts and then pauses. Maybe to think. Maybe to blink away whatever emotion is clouding his ruby-like eyes. “Blitzy,” another clearing of his throat, “Blitzø, are you saying all this because of your recent discoveries?” A wall has been built up again. “Because I can assure you, nothing will happen to me of my own accord. You do not need to worry about guilt or blaming yourself. You don’t have to continue to pretend for my sake.” 

Blitzø fumes even more. Not just the fact that Stolas doesn’t believe him, but also the fact that he corrected himself from using that stupid fucking nickname that Blitzø doesn’t want to admit he has taken a liking to. But only from Stolas. Blitzø’s fists clench along with his teeth. “I don’t do shit I don’t want to do, Stolas,” he seethes. He needs to get it into this stupid bird’s head that he’s not going to abandon him. “Could I have just turned around on the full moon, leaving you alone and depressed? Yes! And a couple of months ago, I would have! But not now.” Blitzø takes a deep breath, sitting back in his seat. He’s still tense. But he needs to say this as honestly as possible. “I’m a shit person, Stolas. I don’t care for much besides myself. Me taking your stupid fucking daggers? Yeah, that’s not me wanting something incredibly dangerous in my weapon collection. That’s because I don’t even want you to be able to think about using them.”

Silence wraps around the two hellborns. It’s uncomfortable. Stolas keeps shifting on his chair, the cheap thing squeaking with every move. “And yet,” he pauses again. He’s letting down his walls instead of putting them up, though. A little dot of a pure white pupil is showing in the vast redness of Stolas’ eyes. “You ran.”

Blitzø buries his face in his hands. He doesn’t regret leaving Stolas. But he regrets not saying anything before he did leave. Blitzø hates feelings. “I ran ‘cause I was feeling a lot. Seeing that you got another one of those, ” he motions to the knife sticking out of the wall. Stolas looks over at it, looking slightly shocked at seeing it. “It made me feel a lot and I needed to get out of there to deal with the stupid emotions alone.” 

Stolas nods. He’s fidgeting with something on his lap. Blitzø, for the first time, notices that there’s a small crossbody bag on Stolas. Stolas opens the bag and fiddles with something inside it. “If you… really wish to continue this,” his head moves a little to figure out the wording he wants to use, “arrangement, then I would not object. I would prefer, however, if we don’t talk about,” Stolas gups. He’s nervous. “This, again,” he finally says, pulling out something wrapped in brown paper. 

Blitzø knows what it is. He wants to slam his head on his desk over and over and over again. He’s really shit at this ‘making sure his loved ones are cared about and safe’ thing. Wait, no. ‘Making sure the people he cares about are safe and know they are a valued part of Blitzø;s life.’ Better. No big feelings Blitzø doesn’t have the time or energy or brainpower to unpack right now. 

Stolas sets the thing on the desk and slides it toward Blitzø. “If it truly disturbs you that much, then I will do my best to not acquire another.”

Blitzø grabs it quickly. He doesn’t want Stolas to take it back, doesn’t know how he’ll react if he does. It’s a start. Stolas giving him his weapons, it’s a start. It is trust. It is… is it? It could be. But probably, it’s just Stolas needing so bad, to feel like someone cares about him. 

“If you feel the need to get another, let me know. Please, Stolas,” Blitzø feels broken. It’s selfish, knowing that it should be Stolas feeling like this and he’s taking over the emotions Stolas should have. Be he feels it anyway. 

“I’ll do my best, Blitzy,” Stolas gives him a small smile and stands. “I shall see you in a few weeks?” he asks. 

“Probably sooner now that I have come to terms that you’re kinda important to me,” Blitzø grumbles slightly. 

Stolas’ smile grows slightly. “Well, I look forward to it. Have a good rest of your day,” he bows ever so slightly and slips out the door. 

Blitzø can feel his face warm up. 

Stolas is willing to try to give up his… obsession with these weapons. Blitzø unwraps the new one. It may not be a permanent solution, Blitzø can’t even know for sure that Stolas won’t get another and hide it elsewhere in his giant ass palace, but it’s a start. And that helps the twisted pain of emotions in Blitzø’s chest as they loosen ever so slightly. 

It’s a start, and maybe things will get better.

Notes:

I'm not... planning... on adding anything more, however, I am willing to hear out any ideas. This is not a permanent goodbye to this short li'l series, more like a see you later.

As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts if you're feeling up for it! And, of course, have a great day <3

Notes:

If you feel up to it, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Have a great day <3