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We thought it would be better to remove it (from spotify), because that song was honestly degrading, degrading to women. I wasn't behind those things in the first place, even when we made that song. It was a joke song.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Traduzione italiana di “Avialae”. Non possiedo nessuna di queste pagine, che appartengono all’autrice (@misslucid). Per leggere in lingua originale: www.avialaecomic.com
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“Avialae”’s italian translation. I don’t own any of the art, which belong to @misslucid. To read in english: www.avialaecomic.com
Heila blinked into the darkness. She’d thought Illarion had fallen asleep. She shifted to look back over her shoulder, Illarion’s arm adjusting over her to accomodate her shoulder. If it wasn’t for the lightness of his skin, his eyes, his hair, she was sure she would’ve lost him in the dark. “How can you tell?”
“Noticed it today. They got little dents in them.” He reached up and tugged lightly on her earlobe. “Why’d you let ‘em close?”
Heila snickered and pulled away from his hand. It tickled, almost. “I didn’t so much let them. I lost the only pair I had.”
“Oh. Well, you should go get ‘em re-done.” His eyebrows raised and that goofy, stupid, lovely smile of his spread over his lips. “Or, or, and here’s a thought: let me do ‘em.”
Heila’s immediate gut reaction was no, obviously not. She might trust Illarion to hold her, might trust him to have weapons and not use them against her, might trust him to let him have his fun picking out outfits for her (the stars and earth knew that she was never any good at picking them) but to trust him with a needle so close to her face? To her neck? But as she thought about it she hesitated.
Really, what damage could he do? The blueprint for it was already there. All she’d be trusting him to do was get a needle and shove it through to re-open what was already there.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay, sure.”
He faltered, then laughed. It was a rumble against her back. “Wait, really?”
She shrugged. “Yeah. Sure.” She couldn’t stop smiling. This was excting. “I think earrings would be fun.”
“You’d actually let me do this, yeah?”
“What, do you think you’d be bad at it?”
“No! Of course not!”
Heila covered her mouth as she found herself giggling. She shifted over so she was facing him. It was cute how easily he protected his pride, but she always got the feeling she had to be careful with it. No one with true confidence put on such a show about it, and it was fun to poke, not to bruise. “Relax,” she drawled. He did, but there was a distinct sulk to him. She rolled her eyes. “You’ll do fine.”
“Better than fine,” he grumbled and pressed his face into her hair. She smiled and let her eyes close, reached across him to bury her fingers in his hair. It was coarse, a fluffy kind of light. It never really smelled of anything. “You’ll have the best piercings money can buy.”
“I’m paying you, am I?”
“It’s free for you.” Heila’s smile grew softer as she combed through his hair. He was so still behind her. She sometimes wished that he was freer with his affection, that he was more than a stiff arm across her stomach or a face or chest behind her head, but there were little sentiments he expressed that showed sweetness anyway.
It’s free for you.
“Just for me, hm?”
“Anyone else has gotta pay up big. We’re talkin’ triple digits, and that’s not even with the jewelry.”
“That’s very generous of you, then, Mr. Piercer.”
“I know. You should say thank you.”
Heila chuckled. She leaned her head away from him and he peaked out from her curls. Heila shifted so she was not just on her back but facing him. She brushed some hair back from his forehead, tucked some behind his ear. She found a little braid she’d given him tucked away there, hidden beneath all the free hair, and her heart softened. He usually took them out. He either hadn’t found that one or kept it there.
His eyes drooped shut and a soft expression made a home on his face, and Heila wondered how many people knew that Illarin Gabrikov could look soft, gentle, sweet. How many people had he trusted with his gentler smiles, with his eyelids that flickered open now and then to stave off sleep?
But she knew what he looked like, tired but determined to stay awake. She knew that he liked a hand through his hair though he would never admit it. She knew that he stopped wearing rings on one of his hands because he worried that they made his hands too bulky for hers to hold. (It didn’t matter that she told him that it didn’t make a difference anyway; his hands were bulky for hers either way but she’d hold them regardless).
“I’ll tell you what,” she murmured. Illarion’s eyes opened and Heila almost felt bad. He looked like he’d been close to sleep. “I’ll do you one better than thank you.”
“Yeah? How’s that?”
She smiled and kissed his forehead. “I’ll pierce yours for you, too. It’d look good on you.” And Illarion laughed, nervous. Heila twirled some of his hair around her finger, let it flop back down to his head. “You don’t have to,” she continued. “And you don’t have to answer tonight.” She retucked his hair behind his ear. “But it’d be repayment.”
“We’d be even,” he mumbled.
Illarion yawned, and Heila withdrew her hand from his head. His eyebrow twitched and her heart expanded. He missed her hand there. She could have stayed up all night, his head in her lap, and done that for him, but the morning was approaching and the two of them had things they needed to do.
“Go to sleep,” she said.
“I’m, like, twelve steps ahead of you, babe.”
Heila breathed out a laugh. She turned back around so her back was to him, and his arm found a home over her middle again. His breathing even against her back, it wasn’t long until Heila joined him in sleep.
