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jollyinmadness · 2 months

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Of Canopies and Twines: Chapter 1, Solas | Azriel x OFC

Pairing: Azriel x Original Female Character

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: Minor Azriel x Elain. References to sexual thoughts. Very vague references to a genocide. Cursing.

Summary:

When an unknown curse starts spreading through the Night Court's lands, the Inner Circle is forced to seek help in the wisdom of Day's vast libraries. Among the dusty tomes, they are met with a mysterious female who wields magic that may yet be the key to their problem.

Kira, one of the few surviving Purifiers, will have to leave her reclusiveness on the shores of the Continent and learn what her ancestor's vow really means.

Azriel will be forced to reconcile his follies, step out from his shadows and push against his shortcoming with nothing but the scarred skin of his hands.

After years of lucky breaks, will the Inner Circle succeed one last time? Or will their fate rest in the hands of an outsider who has more to lose than gain in helping them?

Then again, the Cauldron is forever being stirred by the Mother and no one escapes the yarn on the embroidery of their lives.

Azriel’s hands were hidden under his armpits as he walked the empty streets of Velaris. The faelights in the Palace of Thread and Jewels still shone brightly, though many of the shops had their doors shut and signs turned to say ‘closed.’

He had just left a seamstress’s shop and regretted not accepting a jacket for the suit Rhysand ordered on his behalf. Despite having many in his closet, Rhysand noted that he only owned outdated ones and needed to, quote, freshen up. After a few adjustments, the seamstress had ushered him into the cold street with a smile, saying she was celebrating tonight and needed to get ready too.

During the longest night of the year, even this part of the town closed down, its habitants retiring to dining rooms with their families. As Azriel passed by houses that hadn’t closed their blinds, he dared to peek in if even for the smallest moment. More often than not, he saw children running around a table while the adults prepared utensils and plates, scolding the little ones for not being careful enough. It caused the corners of his mouth to lift, seeing these people so free of worry that they didn’t even care to draw their curtains.

His feet moved on their own accord, walking the familiar paths. Something unsettled and grew restless inside his bones as he thought of the estate he was heading to. This year, his own family was meeting in the River House to celebrate the Winter Solstice and the attendance was bound to be plentiful.

He had already helped Feyre decorate, while Rhysand looked after little Nyx. This year would mark his first Solstice and everyone was eager to make it the most memorable one. Nyx put up the first decoration on the tree but when he was handed a garland from paper, he had torn it in half which elicited a laugh from Azriel and a gentle scolding from both his parents.

Considering he was Rhysand’s son, he was surely going to be a handful once he learned how to talk back and run away.

During it all, Azriel had noted Cassian’s lack of presence, though his brother was most likely hunting down some last-minute gifts before the shops closed for the evening. And last he heard, his mate was up in the House of Wind, preparing with Emerie and Gwyn. Emerie had been spending the last few days with her and Azriel could tell the Illyrian female felt out of place here even after months of daily training. The priestess, on the other hand, had promised Nesta she would spend the dinner with her, before returning to the Library for the evening service.

Gwyn had shown so much growth since her arrival to Velaris and after the Rite, after she cut the ribbon, Azriel noted how she looked to the sky with a renowned longing. Some of the fear and reluctance had fallen off and in its place had grown courage and curiosity. Perhaps her trip to the River House was a stepping stone.

His mind shifted to the rest that were bound to be present and Azriel wondered what Elain was up to. Whether she was trying on dresses and picking out the ones Azriel would love to see on the ground of his private quarters.

He hadn’t seen her since a few days ago when he had walked past the kitchen in the River House and beared witness to her gentle chuckles. Her hands were covered in flour and his two trusted shadow wraiths talked in hushed voices to her. Not even his shadows were quick enough to catch onto what was being said because when the three had noticed him, their words died down just like their laughter.

Cerridwen and Nuala had sketched a quick bow to Azriel, much to his dismay but Elain only stared at him with those wide, doe-like eyes. It had made the air in the kitchen warmer and as she offered him a soft smile. He had disappeared into the shadows after nodding at her. Nodding.

What a fool he was, pining after a female who was mated to another male, let alone allowing himself such a visceral reaction to simple things like smiles. Foolish, indeed.

Feyre had mentioned in passing that Lucien was bound to make an appearance during the night. He didn’t let himself feel insulted. The voice inside his head was telling him that Feyre could see right through him and thought him fragile. He didn’t need to be notified of guests, especially Lucien.

Azriel sighed, blowing a white cloud into the biting air and hoped Rhysand had enough chairs for everyone.

A shiver ran through him when, at last, the front gate to the River House appeared at the far end of the street. He quickened his pace, hands pushing the gate open. His dress shoes clicked against the stone walkway leading to the front door and before he reached for the knob, he pulled at his suit. His scarred hand ran through his hair, fixing and making sure he looked presentable before tackling the entirety of the Inner Circle.

The shadows curled around his ear, telling him that everyone was already somewhere in the house except for Amren and Varian, who were Mother-knew where and doing Mother-knew what. Azriel didn’t care enough to know.

With one last inhale, he braced himself for an eventful evening and opened the door. He followed the sound of chatter and bottles clinging to the decorated family room where everyone was gathered.

The first person to notice his entrance was Cassian. “Az, brother, there you are!”

He came up to Azriel, stuffing a crystal glass full of aged rum into his hand and wrapping a shoulder around him. Cassian was already inebriated, Azriel could tell as their wings brushed on accident. Nesta sent subtle stares their way from the corner of the room while nursing a cup of grape juice and making sure he was still standing upright. She made some comment to the two Valkyries near her, making them giggle while watching.

Cassian and Nesta were still considered to be newly mated and Azriel avoided the House of Wind with fervor. Especially after Feyre and Rhysand had given it to them as a mating gift. He had been planning on vacating his room and moving to the Townhouse way before that but he dreaded packing all of the trinkets decorating his shelves. He would have missed the silence too hadn’t it been replaced by sounds of rabid fucking. Even the dining table wasn’t safe from their ministrations and a small part of Azriel grew jealous at it.

“You should stop with the drinks if you plan on participating tomorrow,” muttered Azriel, still cheering his glass with Cassian’s.

Cassian laughed, the sound joyous and open. “I will end your winning streak this year, spymaster.”

“No, I think it will mark my two hundredth win,” Azriel remarks absentmindedly, elbow shoving itself into Cassian’s ribs. Cassian didn’t take to that lightly and while balancing his almost empty glass, he put Azriel into a chokehold with a boom of laughter. He ruffled his hair while promising utter devastation come tomorrow morning.

Cassian’s technique wasn’t sloppy despite being drunk but it took one smooth move for Azriel to free himself and knock back the contents of his glass.

“I would save the energy, Cass,” he told him, unfastening the button on his jacket.

Cassian grinned. “Or I can beat you now and eliminate the competition.”

Before they could begin to play-wrestle, Feyre cleared her throat, staring them down. “No fighting in front of Nyx,” she reminded them. “Besides, Az just arrived and you’re already wrinkling his suit! Get off of him, Cassian.”

“A suit I paid good money for,” whispered Rhys from beside his mate, his ankle resting atop his knee. The tips of Azriel’s ears went red and once he pushed Cassian off, he heard a soft, female chuckle behind him.

Without a thought, he turned his head, his shadows scattering at the sight in the doorway. Words escaped him like they always did in Elain’s presence and instead, he stared down at her.

Her hair was done half-up half-down, decorated with little white flowers she was sure were grown by her own gentle hands. Baby breaths, he recalled her saying. As his face traveled from those brown eyes looking at him with mirth, his breath caught somewhere on its way from his lungs and to his mouth. A light pink dress made of the softest fabric adorned her curves, pooling and shimmering around her feet like a waterfall. The color and the design reminded him of that one time he stayed in the Day Court. Sun had just risen and painted the entire sky a brilliant pink and small puffy white clouds dusted the horizon.

At once, he willed his shadows to enshroud him again and stepped from the doorway, his eyes never leaving hers. His only thought was on that necklace in his breast pocket, still undecided on whether he should give it to her or not. Seeing her, he couldn’t help but notice that the little rose pendant would go perfectly with the dress. There and then, his mind was made. He would put the petite box on the pile later once everyone had gone to sleep.

Somebody behind her cleared their throat and it was the only reason Azriel noticed the fire-haired male.

Lucien’s stare softened considerably as the golden eye shifted from Azriel the moment their eyes met. The emissary chose to ignore him, instead put a gentle hand on Elain’s upper back that Azriel traced with his eyes. As they crossed over the threshold, it was all he could do once the scent of their unaccepted mating bond filled the room.

Sometimes, Azriel thought to himself, the Mother had a cruel sense of humor.

Azriel leaned against the wall, letting the murmur of his shadows take the attention from Elain and Lucien. He listened, ignoring questioning stares from Rhysand and focusing on the sauntering female making her way to the family room.

He turned his head just in time to be met with Mor’s profile appearing in the doorway. She was holding a bottle of wine and smiling, love filling her eyes as they went over everyone present. The familiar faces and the new. Azriel noticed how she took a while to look at the Illyrian female next to Nesta and he noticed Emerie staring right back. He bit back the small smirk fighting to be shown. Though once she had her fill, the last person whom she graced with her glance was Azriel.

They shared a knowing look and at last, it was void of any tension or anxiety. “Hey, Az,” she said, a gentle smile on her lips.

He dipped his chin. “Mor.”

He saw a flurry of brown hair before a muffled “Mor!” was exclaimed into the female’s chest. Mor recoiled due to the impact and suddenly, Feyre was hugging the Morrigan, not caring for propriety in front of guests.

Rhysand’s cousin had been spending more time in Vallahan than in the Night Court, forging alliances and still not succeeding in convincing the Queen to sign the peace treaty. She tried to visit as much as she could and sent many letters through Azriel’s spies concerning the foreign kingdom. He worried for her, hearing just how proud the people in Vallahan were and the schemes the court was prone to.

“Feyre, please, don’t crush me before I can make it through the doorway.”

“I’m so glad you could make it for the dinner,” she murmurs into her chest before pulling away and taking in the red gown Mor had put on. It earned a hum of approval from her High Lady and Mor wiggled her eyebrows, whispering something into Feyre’s ear and making her laugh.

Azriel stepped away, moving further inside the room though the wall was his preferred place. Feyre had handed off Nyx to Elain, who was rocking the baby on her hip while conversing with the Valkyries. Gwyn was wearing her usual priestess robes and cooed at the small Illyrian. The middle Archeron sister was smiling unabashedly, sending something warm trickling down Azriel’s chest.

“Brother,” Rhysand greeted, breaking him out of the reverie and lifting a bottle to fill his glass. With a cocked brow, Rhysand poured the liquor and walked away from Azriel without another word, leaving the shadowsinger hanging in the air.

Rhysand stopped in front of his mate, kissing her temple without sparing Azriel another second of his attention after filling his glass. It left an unsure feeling behind but he brushed it off, convincing himself to have misread the slippage of his brother’s mask.

— ✾ —

It was only after an hour filled with Mor’s complaining about being hungry and Cassian’s grunts of approval that Varian and Amren arrived. Azriel knew the moment Rhysand’s second had walked through the front door of the River House and his shadows notified him that Amren’s lipstick was smudged, and Varian was rubbing a handkerchief along his face.

It made Azriel swear up the Cauldron as he began rethinking his decision to come to this particular family dinner. It wasn’t often that he chose to, rather opting for eating by his lonesome in the House of Wind. The smell of people’s scents mixed in the aftermath of sex was something akin to strangulation and Azriel liked to enjoy his meals without the sensation.

Rhysand turned away from Amren and Varian, clasping his hands together and announcing, “It’s time we feast!”

Cassian whooped alongside of Mor, and they were the first ones on Rhysand’s heels. At the left-hand side of the family room were double doors, too, decorated with garlands and ribbons. Rhysand pushed down on each handle, leading the grand entrance to a refurbished dining room.

Azriel’s shadows skittered around him as they watched everyone enter. In hushed voices, they began counting those walking through the threshold and Azriel fought the urge to roll his eyes.

As much as everyone assumed he had complete control over his little shadows, they were sentient creatures fascinated by the simplest things. It wasn’t a coincidence that shadowsingers were oftentimes spies, because while the shadows liked talking, they adored observing and reporting everything to their master whose job was to pick out the important information.

And so, Azriel had to ignore his shadows gushing about a new table that could now fit not ten people but twelve! Once they were sure their master knew of the fact his shadows returned to counting.

There’s four, five, six. Seven. Eight, nine, ten and eleven, and twelve.

Amren had taken the head of the table, leading Varian to sit next to her with their intertwined hands.

Mor chose to be the mediator between Lucien and Elain and ignored all the sideways glances the emissary sent her way as she laid a hand on the back of the chair. The little smile she sent Elain did not escape Azriel either. While everyone had chosen their seats, Azriel entered last, closing the door behind him with his back to the group.

There’s the thirteenth. Such a lucky number.

In all his years spent in Velaris, Azriel failed to remember a time when a dining room was this full. The new table added two extra seats and dwarfed the room in comparison to how it used to be. Everyone made themselves comfortable, shucking off jackets and laying them across the backs of their chairs.

Azriel hadn’t had the chance to pick where he wanted to sit and as he turned to the room, he had come to realize with an odd mix of relief and disdain that his seat was between Nesta and Varian. Pick of the litter, then.

The seats have been specially altered to accommodate winged individuals and while Azriel settled into his chair, he was at least grateful that his closest companions lacked any membranous monstrosities protruding from their backs. Were he sat next to inebriated Cassian, he’d have to focus his attention there and leave his shadows with filling up the blanks.

As food started appearing one plate after another, Azriel took in where the rest of the people were sat. He was facing Feyre and Rhysand, Nyx placed into a tiny chair between theirs. Cassian was occupying the other head of the table and already spoke to Elain in hushed tones to the best of his abilities. To the General’s other side was Gwyn, then Emerie and Nesta. One of his newer shadows notified him that Emerie couldn’t take her eyes from Rhysand’s cousin and that she blushed when their eyes met.

A table of this size offered a lot of variety and where there was space between statement pieces, candelabras and flowers, there was food or drink. Once the sound of cutlery filled the room, the conversation fell off and comments about the food were exchanged. The feast, as Rhysand called it, was truly one for the books.

Oh, the beef. It’s delicious.

Could you hand me more of the potatoes, Lucien?

Is there any more wine on your end of the table?

We should do this more often.

The exchanges appeared awkward to Azriel and the small talk he had to endure from Varian made him want to retreat further into his shadows. All throughout the main course he felt Rhysand’s eyes on him but when he went to meet his High Lord’s stare, he had already turned away.

As the food dwindled and the fae lights dimmed down to a comfortable glow, many different conversations were going on. Feyre talked to Lucien while letting Rhysand feed their son and the Valkyries were explaining their training to Mor, who had been unaware of all the progress the priestesses had made.

Gwyn was in the middle of explaining the new technique that she discovered while helping Merill with her research when she offhandedly mentioned a thing that elicited a groan from Nesta and Emerie.

Cassian, dragged out from his conversation with Elain, drew back. “What? What happened?” he questioned, brows drawn together in confusion.

“It’s the long-lost kingdom again,” explained Nesta and Cassian ah’d with some recognition, nodding along.

Gwyn blushed a deep crimson. "I promised Nesta not to talk about it," she sent a glare to the mentioned female over Emerie's head. "So I won't."

Nesta rolled her eyes but it couldn't be taken seriously because as she looked down, one corner of her mouth was lifted up.

"To talk about what?" asked Feyre from the other end of the table, cutting her conversation with Lucien short. The male was already tilting his body towards the priestess, eyes straying to his mate before focusing wholeheartedly back on Gwyn.

Gwyn met Feyre's kind gaze. "I've finally started my own research and these three hear too much about it."

Something struck Azriel's chest on the left-hand side as he realized he was not included in the explanation. His shadows stilled and watched Gwyn.

"Oh?" mused Feyre back. She settled her chin on the heel of her palm, smiling gently at the priestess. “What is it about?"

Almost taken aback by the attention she was getting from her High Lady, it had taken her a moment to get the words out. "It's this extinct nation– or at least many think it's extinct. They just about fell off the face of this world five hundred years ago."

There were more blank faces around the table as even Amren drew her unsettling gaze to Gwyn. Now, everyone was listening to her and even Elain let her gentle and encouraging eyes rest on her small form.

What a kindness she thinks she’s offering, one shadow hissed and coiled around his ear.

Gwyn’s hand reached up to play with a strand of coppery hair, continuing, "Truly, there are barely any records on its fall, some books on its existence and even less on their emergence."

"You do love a challenge, Gwyn," muttered Nesta, earning a gleaming smile from Gwyn.

"That I do," she responded, almost sheepish. "The last scriptures go back to a few decades before the War. It's unheard of that a kingdom from the continent is not mentioned in writing."

Mor shuffled in her seat, holding the glass of wine in front of her with both hands and offering an inquisitive look to Gwyn. "Is it Severín, by any chance?"

"Yes," she breathed out, the realization that many of them are as old as five hundred dawning over her. "You fought in the War, didn't you?" she asked, this time with more gentleness. She looked to Cassian who was pushing his food around and nodding lightly, the tone of the conversation still easygoing, edging on clinical.

"We all did," stated Mor, her mood growing more serious with each sip she took. "I went there once but decades after it had fallen to aid an old friend."

"You were there for the liberation of Black Land?" she inquired, earning a nod and a small smile from Mor. She had connected the dots fast enough that it pleased her.

"I offered my help to Drakon and Myriam, yes. I would not be wrong to suggest you know who they were."

The use of past tense didn’t escape Azriel.

"Could I—" she started but faltered before she got too ahead of herself. But before she could find better words or consider a better timing, Mor lifted a gentle hand.

"You can ask any questions you want. I'll come to the library tomorrow for a few hours and I'll make sure to find you."

For a moment, Gwyn was left speechless before she stammered out a quick, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she uttered, before looking around the table. "We wouldn't want to bore these people with the recounting of ancient history."

"I, for one," said Feyre pointedly while fixing Nyx's clothes, "would love to hear more about this fallen kingdom. I don't get to read as much anymore."

Nesta bit back a grin, turning to her sister with a goodhearted smile. "Anymore? You were illiterate a few years ago."

A few reluctant giggles escaped the present and even Azriel had to hide his smile. Feyre gasped, resting her palms on the table and looking in feigned disbelief at her oldest sister. Rhysand looked to his wife, a smile splitting his face in half. "And whose fault is that?"

This broke the hesitance, light laughter echoing around the room and even Amren cracked a smirk.

Feyre hummed, letting her chin rest against her palm again. "But about the Black Land... Is it not the same as what Mor said? Severing, or something?"

"Severín, my lady," corrected gently Gwyn, letting Feyre copy the hard r's in her own time. She gave her an encouraging smile once she got it right. "But they're not the same, though they existed in the same place within Rask."

“I think I've seen it on one of the older maps, near where the Wall would be," wondered aloud Feyre and her mate gave her a nod, confirming her guess. "Is it close to that mountain range with a river? The northern one."

"Yes, the Vistula River,” she nodded at Feyre. “There’s a legend involving the Severínians and the river delta. Supposedly, before they ever settled in Rask’s territory, the region was surrounded by a desert and there was no vegetation unless you were close to the seashore. And even then it was only rocky ridges, not fit for cultivating crops.”

“But something changed,” muttered Feyre playfully, enchanted by the story Gwyn was gladly unraveling for her.

“Something did change. ‘When the Severínians finally decided to settle, rivers sprang from the mountains and created a cradle for a new kingdom to rise from.’ It’s a quote from a diary of a Raskan traveler. The name ‘Vistula’ actually means to flow slowly and its roots are in the Severínian language.”

Feyre smiled at the little tidbit of information. “Do we know what urged them to settle there? If there was no life there, it must have been a hard decision to make.”

“I asked myself the same thing! We do know that they were a nomadic people, that their archetypal features were feathered wings. Individuals with pale hair were denoted to have powers. That actually created a new branching in the classification of magic. I saw some scholars give them the title of ‘purifiers.’”

Mor nodded along with the explanation as if everything that came out of Gwyn’s mouth was just confirmation of something she had already known.

“They had a so-called affinity for ‘life’ and it was sought after by many rulers at that time. They could grow crops within a few hours which would otherwise take months under normal circumstances. They made for very good healers and menders and no one had ever described them as violent. Actually, they were quite a docile people. One of their saying was something along the lines of ‘to live is to be gifted and to serve is to protect.’”

“Do you think they had never settled before because someone would have come to take their freedom away—simply because of what they possessed?” asked Feyre again with a thoughtful expression.

“Perhaps,” agreed Gwyn calmly and judging by her change of expression, the silence around the table came to her with a force of a thousand bricks. Alarmed, she looked around at the present and realized that everyone, including Amren, was fully focused on what she was saying. Shadows notified Azriel that Varian on his right had sent Gwyn a smile before saying that he had never known anything about this kingdom.

“Rask had never taken lightly to someone encroaching on their territory. They might be the reason why this kingdom has been ‘wiped’ from the collective memory,” offered Rhysand.

Mor scoffed, agreeing with her cousin. “Especially if they offered refuge to humans who could have been a workforce in their salt mines instead.”

“Refuge?” Feyre turned her attention to Mor, brows furrowed. “What do you mean by refuge?”

The blonde female looked to her High Lady, skillfully avoiding Lucien’s whirring gold eye. “Before their fall and before Rask had turned it into Black Land, they allowed humans to live side by side with them and even earn their keep. It was unheard of at that time since most of the Courts even in Prythian considered humans slaves.”

“The talks of human rights were nothing but murmurs within chosen circles,” concluded Rhysand, swirling the wine in his cup. “Shame, Severín could have made for good allies during the War.”

“They would not have fought,” spoke up Amren all of a sudden, surprising even Rhysand into stumped silence.

He frowned, facing his second and declared, “You are right. They wouldn’t have but they were the only example of Fae and mortals living in peace together. That could have made a difference.”

“The fools were so in love with peace, they wouldn’t have sided with foreigners even if it cost them their lives. Which it did anyway.”

Azriel thought to himself that it was perhaps the biggest reaction Amren had given in the past year and since the day she crawled out of the Cauldron. It wasn’t often that this ancient female chose to speak her mind but something had grated against her at the mention of this long-lost kingdom.

“Rask is a nation of conquerors,” said Amren, her hand playing with a ruby necklace adorning her collarbone. It twinkled in the candlelight of the table and the danger of her eyes. “They wouldn’t have given in where they didn’t have to.”

Mor sucked on the inside of her cheek before responding, “So they chose to sack a peaceful people?”

“Their feud wasn’t just some baseless thing, dusted over by centuries of anger. Those Severínians,” she had spat out the name like spoiled food, “had settled in Raskan territory, knowing damn well where they were.”

“They were the ones who created life there, not Rask,” argued Mor.

Amren’s ageless gaze moved sideways. “So the legend goes.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

She sat up, leaning on her elbows and zeroing in on Mor with a poise of a predator. “What I mean, Morrigan, is that not everything written in those books and scriptures is fact. It takes one desperate generation to rewrite what has truly happened.”

“Are you insinuating that those people deserved getting slaughtered?”

Amren bared her teeth. “All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t let someone with that magic anywhere near me. It’s not of this world and trust my word, I would know.”

Azriel’s shadows had stilled with the exchange, murmurs of questions and curiosity filling his ears. He just watched on as Mor and Amren exchanged heated glances, bared their teeth. Between them, Feyre massaged the space between her brows and when Rhysand laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, she had shook it off.

“Please,” said Feyre, gaze still downturned. “Don’t argue. Not tonight and not over something meaningless.”

Within the plead was hiding something more. It wasn’t often that Feyre could just sit down and dine with all of her close friends. She had a child to take care of, she taught children in the city how to paint and see the beauty of the world through the medium of the brush and when she came home, she was still a mother and a High Lady with obligations. The last thing she wished for was an argument—on her birthday, nonetheless.

On her other side, even Lucien had sent worrying glances her way.

“I’m sorry, Feyre,” murmured Mor, though Amren remained silent. Azriel supposed that it was the biggest apology they would get from her, considering she had never once explained herself to anyone. All she deigned herself to do was meet Feyre’s eyes and nod as if she was heeding a command from her High Lady.

The Inner Circles and the rest had grown quiet, their eyes as if stuck to their plates. Only Azriel was still looking up and around, noticing how awkward it had gotten and wishing it was socially acceptable to winnow from this room.

From the other end of the table, Cassian cleared his throat and said, “Varian, do you think I could visit this summer? I swear not to shatter another building.”

The laugh from Varian was a little choked and aware of the diversion Cassian had tried to make. “I don’t know if my cousin has lifted your ban.”

“Not even after everything?”

“I’m afraid not,” he sighed. “But Cresseida and I will put in good word for you.”

With a wink from Varian, Cassian laughed, exclaiming, “Atta boy!”

Elain, from Cassian’s side, leaned in and asked with a small voice meant for him only, “How did you get banned from the Summer Court?”

Those who already knew laughed along as Cassian dived into a dramatized retelling of that fateful day in Adriata.

— ✾ —

The River House had finally fallen quiet after the eventful Winter Solstice dinner and the following party. The faelights had been dimmed to cast little pools of gold amid the deep shadows of the longest night of the year.

Amren, Mor and Varian had finally gone to bed but Azriel found himself still lingering downstairs.

He knew he should get some sleep. He would need it come dawn for the snowball battle at the cabin. After everyone had retired back to the family room, Cassian had mentioned no less than six times that he had a secret plan regarding his so-called impending victory. Azriel had let his brother boast, especially since he had been planning his own win for a year now.

Cassian wouldn’t know what was coming for him. And Azriel planned on capitalizing on the fact that Nesta likely wouldn’t let Cassian sleep much tonight.

Azriel snickered to himself and the ever-restless shadows around him stirred, gazing out to the family room.

Sleep, they had whispered in his ear and a sense of deep-set exhaustion crawled over his bones again.

I wish I could, he comforted them silently. But sleep rarely found him these days.

Too many razor-sharp thoughts sliced any time he grew still long enough for them to strike. Too many wants and needs left his skin overheated as it pulled taut over his muscles. And so he chose to sleep only when his body gave out, and even then only for a few hours.

Azriel surveyed the empty room from the hallway, the presents under the tree and the ribbons littering the furniture. There were two dirty glasses on the mantel of the fireplace, smeared lipstick on one and nothing on the other.

Nesta and Cassian hadn’t reappeared in the house, though that came as no surprise. They were among the first ones to leave and Azriel’s shadows had notified him of his brother carrying Nesta to the House of Wind mere minutes after Rhysand had winnowed her friends out.

He was elated for him and yet Azriel was never able to stop it—the green envy in his chest of Cassian, of Rhys. Cauldron, even of Amren. He knew he would be swallowed by that never-ending despair if he went to his bedroom, and so he chose to remain down here by the dying light in the fireplace.

The room lacked the bustle and laughter it had enshrined for the last couple of hours. Now the silence grew heavy and the stillness of his bedroom began crawling between the walls and into the family room. He clutched his fingers around the jacket on his forearm, letting it dissolve into shadows.

Azriel removed himself from the doorway, entering the hall and walking soundlessly to the foyer.

Soft steps padded from the stair archway and there she was.

The faelights gilded across Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. Again, the image from the Day Court had appeared before his eyes and as she halted, her breath caught in her throat.

“I…” He watched her swallow. She clutched her fingers around a small box. “I was coming to leave this on your pile of presents. I forgot to put it there earlier.”

A lie. At least the second part was a lie. He didn’t need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face. She had waited until everyone was asleep before venturing back down, where she would leave her gift among his other, unopened presents. Subtle and unnoticed, she wanted him to find it in the morning and after the snowball battle. Perhaps she had hoped he would pocket the little box, open it in the privacy of his room and away from the prying eyes of his family.

Elain closed the distance and her breathing quickened as she paused a scant foot away. “No trouble in giving it to you now, I guess. Here.” She extended the wrapped gift, her hand trembling.

Azriel fought hard not to look at his scarred fingers as they took the gift. She hadn’t bought her mate a present, he recalled. When his shadows went over the gifts, they had divulged this precious detail to him. He hadn’t gotten one this year nor last but she went through the trouble of buying something for him. She had given Azriel a headache powder a year ago which he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use but just to look at. Something he had done every night he had slept there��or rather attempted to sleep there.

Azriel unwrapped the box, glancing at the card that merely said, You might find these useful at the House these days. -Elain, and then opened the lid.

Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured, "You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you..."

He hadn’t had the heart to tell he was going to move from the House soon and so unable to suppress his impulse, he just chuckled. “You wouldn’t want me to open this in front of everyone.”

Elain’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Nesta wouldn’t appreciate the joke.”

As he closed the box and stuffed it into the pocket of his trousers, he returned her smile. “I wasn’t sure if I should give you your present…”

He had left the rest unspoken as he reached into his shadows. Her mate was here, sleeping only a level above them and he had been present all throughout the evening, not once leaving the room before Elain had retired for the night. The scent of their mating bond had filled Azriel’s lungs and even if he had positioned himself to a far corner, it would still reach his nostrils, tickling something wicked that called for unfairness.

Though tonight, here in the dark and silence, there was only the two of them and he supposed it was fair at last to give her this one thing. Despite wanting to give much more.

He pulled the velvet box out, letting his shadows open it for her. Once revealed, they scattered to the back of his neck in a moment’s time.

Elain sucked in a soft breath that whispered over his skin and his shadow retreated even further, almost completely disappearing. They and their murmurs had always been prone to vanish when she was around and so did his voice of reason.

The golden chain was unremarkable and the amulet tiny enough to be dismissed as an everyday charm. Weeks ago, he had escaped the House of Wind and found himself walking through the Palace of Thread and Jewel. A vendor had waved him over from the crowd, choosing Azriel to present his newest invention. When he told him to hold it up to the sun, Azriel was rendered speechless once the true depth of colors became visible and it reminded him of her. It was a thing of secret, lovely beauty, just like the female before him.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

Azriel watched her face tentatively as she lifted the necklace from the box. The fae lights shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm aglow with hues of red, pink, white and green.

Azriel let his shadow swallow the box as she said softly, “Put it on me?”

The everlasting murmurs in his head slowed to a still. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her neck.

He knew it was wrong but there he was, sliding the necklace around her. He let his scarred fingers touch her unmarred skin, letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture. Elain shivered, and he took his sweet time fastening the clasp.

Azriel's hand lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch, until his palm lay flat against her neck.

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

Wrong—it was so wrong. The murmurs returned with fervor but he didn’t care.

He needed to know what the skin of her neck felt like. What those lips tasted like, her breasts, her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue—

The fabric of Azriel’s pants began straining against his will. It ached so fiercely he could only pray she didn’t peer down. Pray she didn’t understand the shift in his scent.

He would only allow himself these thoughts in the dead of night, when everyone had fallen asleep and when no one, not even his shadows, could bear witness to his selfishness.

Elain bit her lower lip and it took every ounce of Azriel’s restraint not to free it with his own.

“I should go,” Elain said but made no move to leave. She was still peering up at him with those big eyes.

“Yes,” he said, his thumb sweeping long strokes along the side of her neck. The gentle brush sent a shiver down Elain’s spine and as her arousal drifted up to him, his eyes nearly fell shut. If he could, he would drop to his knees in front of her, asking her to let him worship her body. But Azriel settled for stroking her neck. For now.

She shuddered, drifting closer. So close, one deep breath would brush up her chest again his upper stomach. She was looking up at him, face so open and unafraid as if he could deliver her to the lands of milk and honey. Azriel wouldn’t put it past himself to try.

Still, her naivety hadn’t escaped those incessant murmurs of his own. They scratched their talons against his reserve, reminding him that the hand brushing her neck had done unspeakable things. Who was he to touch her like this?

It should be a sacrilege for his rough, scarred fingers to rest on her skin, to taint her with his presence.

He could have this, right?

Azriel wouldn’t admit it to anyone ever but he was a selfish bastard and he would allow himself to have this one moment of reverie. If only to drive away his curiosity. But afterward, he promised himself to keep a hold on himself, he would go back to restraint. This single occasion would be it for him. Something to keep, something to remember during those long, dark and lonesome hours.

“Yes," Elain breathed like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut.

Offer and permission. He nearly sighed in relief as he lowered his head toward hers.

Azriel.

Rhysand’s voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain’s sweet and awaiting mouth.

Azriel.

The unrelenting command was an undercurrent to his name and Azriel looked up. Atop the staircase, Rhysand stood with a clenched jaw and a glower pointed at him and only him.

My office. Now.

Rhysand vanished into thin air and Azriel was left standing there, the prickle of being watched and observed still skipping along his skin. Elain who stood before him was still awaiting his lips on hers. His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back so their breaths would mix no longer.

He forced himself to say, “This was a mistake.”

Something had his throat in a vice, whether it was a need or the shame at being called on like a dog, he didn’t know. He was only aware of the strained sentence coming out and Elain opening her eyes. They widened, filling with hurt and confusion before she whispered a single, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t– Don’t apologize,” he managed to say. “Never apologize, it’s I who should…” He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness in her face that he was the reason for. “Goodnight.”

Azriel winnowed himself into shadows before he could hear what she had to say if anything. He appeared only a heartbeat later in front of Rhysand’s study. His shadows whispered in his ear that Elain was already retreating upstairs. Shame washed over him and he ran a hand over his face.

He pushed the dark, heavy door to reveal Rhysand at his desk, fury a moonless night across his face.

He asked softly and only once, “Are you out of your mind?”

Azriel let the door shut behind him and didn’t even think of sitting down in the chair facing the monstrous desk littered with papers and memos. Azriel thinned his mouth at the question. He was always sparse with words and wasn’t going to stop the habit now.

His brother looked at him in exasperation, as if not believing what he was seeing. Upon closer inspection, the lines on Rhysand’s face were longer and shadows lingered in the space below his eyes. But even despite the tired appearance, his power rolled around him like a dark cloud in an ominous reminder.

“I asked you something, Azriel.”

Azriel joined his hands behind his back, saying, “What do you want me to say?”

Rhysand’s frown should have been an answer enough. “I want you to explain why I saw you about to kiss Elain in the middle of a hall where anyone could see you,” he snarled, pointing an accusing finger his way. “Including her mate.”

Azriel scoffed. Of course, he would mention Lucien. It wasn’t often that Azriel’s hackles rose and he allowed them to. But when he met his brother’s eyes with rage, he knew Rhysand could match him a thousand times over. His glare had crossed with its violet twin as the air grew heavier and heavier. The siphon on his chest that he kept glamoured vibrated in answer to the challenge.

Rhysand blinked. “What of Mor, Az?”

“Don’t talk to me about Mor,” he bit out.

“I’m going to talk to you about whatever I damn wish. Especially if you go about your delusions like that.”

Azriel chose to ignore that last bit if only to keep some of his sanity. This male before him had been his friend for over five centuries. They have bled, cried and laughed beside each other. He would never lie to him and never spare his feelings. And Rhysand was right, after all. The little voice in the back of his mind had always been right too and the way Rhysand was scowling at him was all the confirmation he needed.

He glared at his shadowsinger. “If Lucien finds out you’re pursuing her, he has every right to defend the bond as he sees fit. Including the Blood Duel.”

“That’s an Autumn Court tradition.”

The duel had historically been enacted in rare cases and ended only when the other person was dead. There was no yielding, no three taps and out. There were only two fighters and no titles could help once the Blood Duel had been invoked. Despite being an outsider, Azriel had wanted to invoke it when he had found Mor all those years ago. He had been ready to challenge both Beron and Eris, prepared to kill them or die with them. But it was Mor’s right to claim their heads that had stopped him and he would never do her the dishonor of taking that choice away.

“Lucien, as Beron’s son, has the right to demand it of you,” reminded him Rhysand.

“I would win,” he stated, pure conviction lacing every word.

“I know.” It was a bitter sense of acceptance that dawned on Rhysand’s face. “Your doing so would rip apart any fragile peace and alliances we have, not only with the Autumn Court but also the Spring Court. Jurian and Vassa, too.” Rhys looked up from where his hands were joined in front of his face. “You will leave Elain alone.”

Azriel neared one step closer to Rhysand’s desk. “You can’t order me to do that.”

The High Lord took in that step and thinned his lips. “I can and I will. If not to protect you three from a world of hurt, then to protect this Court. I watched you tonight and half the evening you had your eyes glued to Elain and the other half, you were lost in your thoughts. And if I caught onto it, then Lucien did too. You better mind yourself, brother. You’re losing focus.”

Azriel snarled softly against his best judgment.

“Snarl all you want.” Rhysand leaned back in his chair. “But if I see you panting after her again, I’ll make you regret it.”

Rhysand had rarely considered punishment, let alone threatened it. It stunned Azriel enough to knock him out of his rage and into incredulity. His brother avoided his gaze, grabbing a pen and focusing on the papers on his desk. Even as he looked down, his eyes weren’t scanning the words written there. His hand with the wedding ring shook slightly when he ran it through his hair.

“Get out, Az,” he said, more gently under his breath but Azriel heard it all right. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

With no further words from Rhysand or himself, Azriel walked out of the study, pushing himself to keep a calm pace, though he wanted to storm out. He tucked in his wings, walked down the stairs and past the spot where his and Elain’s mouth had almost met. His eyes were focused forward, shadows swirling around him and sensing the distress of their master. Once he pushed through the front door and into the frigid air, he let it consume him.

The white clouds escaping his mouth were the only sign he was alive because as he passed the gate, he stood still. Too still. The River House towered behind him and the light in Rhysand’s study went out.

How his brothers used to fear being chained down by the ankles. They had joked with Azriel, saying he would be the first to settle and that their fleeing nature would never allow them to stay still for one female.

But they had grown, changed over time while Azriel stayed behind, hoping that the relationship they shared would remain unchanged.

As Azriel kept standing in the cold, he let it permeate past his suit. Down through his skin and to the marrow of his bones. There was no jacket to ward off the chill—all by his choice. There was no one to run to and Azriel wondered if that was his choice too.

Taglist:

this is being crossposted to ao3 so make sure to show some love there too, if you feel so inclined!

omg hi to whomever is reading this work ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

thank you for taking the time out of your day to sit down with this, be it on your commute, after a long day at school or whatever other downtime you have!! i am very honored and i hope i can entertain.

i'm very pumped to get this out and into the world. this oc has been stuck in my head for like over a year, i swear. maybe even perhaps when the bonus chapter of acosf with azriel first dropped ! the ideas of the plot and scenes just kept coming to me in random moments throughout these last 12 or so months. it felt like i was being shaken by my shoulder and someone was screaming into my face to, "write this one, goddammit!!!!!"

so here i am, appeasing some azriel-obsessed part of me.

since his character is very… open to interpretation due to the utter lack of anything (looking at you, SJM), i'm going to take certain liberties with his personality and motivations. so this might be slightly OOC, but i'll make sure that this is tagged on my ao3.

enjoy, my lovelies. i'll be grateful for any comments, tips or questions. if you think something could have been done differently, don't ever be afraid to comment on it. i am very open to criticism as bettering my craft is one of my biggest goals with this. my inbox is open (i think).

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 1 month

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heart to heart

cw. selfship-coded, childhood friend au, pre-canon, pre-relationship, slight angst, fluff, one piece spoilers

pairing. portgas d. ace x reader

notes. apparently it isn't enough for me to brainrot in private about a character i've been obsessed with for a decade, you guys have to be subjected to it as well. whoops🤪

It is not hyperbole to say that early mornings are the only time of day when the Dadan Family base is peaceful.

The sun has barely risen, the morning birds have barely begun their song and most everyone is still snoring away in their cots. Early mornings and late evenings have become Dadan’s favorite time of day, citing them as the only times she is ever allowed a moment of peace.

That peace is stalled whenever Garp visits.

“You sure you don’t wanna come with us,” you ask Ace a final time before you leave for your hometown.

Ace shakes his head with a small smile, “they’re more your friends than mine.” A true sentiment, in your six years of knowing each other, there is still a distinction between your friends in Windmill Village and your friends living among bandits on Mt. Corvo. “Tell ‘em I said ‘congrats’ though. We might end up seeing them later down the road.”

“As marines!” Garp calls over his shoulder gruffly, not waiting for you to catch up. He has one more year to change his grandson’s mind about becoming a marine before the two of you left Dawn Island for saltier pastures. If he knew that fact, however, you’re sure the marine would grab you both by the back of your shirts and drag you to the port in Windmill Village this second. “You should take after those boys!”

The boys in question are Demarius and Stacey.

They’ve adored Garp since before you knew Ace was his grandchild, constantly pleading for him to take them to a naval base. He promised to do so once they turned 16. The least you could do was bid your friends farewell before they lived out their naval dreams.

Ace rolls his eyes, “Pirate!”

“It’s too early in the morning for you two to start that old fight again,” Dadan grumbles, turning around to head back inside. This was enough kissing Garp's butt for her, tucking away her handkerchief. “I get nothing but headaches when Garp comes around.”

You snicker at the grouchy woman’s exit, looking over her shoulder. The door to the room you share is shut close but you can easily picture Luffy stretched out and snoring, limbs all over the place wildly. He’ll be adding to Dadan’s headache soon enough. “Alright, well, I’ll be back later,” you tell Ace unnecessarily.

“You should spend the night in town,” Ace’s disgruntled expression shifts into something warm. You remember a time when he seldom smiled and could only offer you scowls. It’s hard to believe how much he smiles now, your lips quirking instinctively at the sight. “You haven’t been in town for a while. Everyone probably misses you.”

You lean forward, wiggling your eyebrows, “aww, trying to get rid of me now? You’re just trying to get more of a cut at dinner.”

“Maybe,” Ace’s grin widens and you share a laugh before Garp calls after you, further away than he was last.

Damn for an old man he moves fast. “See you,” you nudge your freckled friend before turning on your feet, nearly tripping as you stumble after his grandfather. “I’m okay,” you call over your shoulder.

Garp is grumbling to himself as you approach him. You don’t need to hear his words clearly to know he is thinking about his pirate obsessed grandsons. “Those dolts,” he mutters. “You used to play marines all the time with those kids in town. Now they’ve got you talking about being a pirate. You’ll all be marines, mark my words!”

“I really only ever wanted to just sail on the seas,” you tell Garp truthfully. Even as a child when Demarius demanded you play marines because he always wanted to play marines, you never played because you aspired to be one. It didn’t have to be the marines, it didn’t have to be pirates, you just wanted to set sail on the ocean blue. Pirate merely became the subsequent medium you vowed to pursue. “The marines kinda seem,” you mull over your next words carefully. “Strict. I just wanna see the world, not be told what to do.”

“Discipline is a good thing,” is his rebuttal. He certainly was very strict in the training you unwittingly got pulled into once he discovered your true intentions.

Silence falls between you both but it isn’t comfortable, not like the silences you’re used to.

Silence in Dadan’s home is accompanied by snores or the movement of someone heading to the bath. Luffy mumbling in his sleep about the many adventures he and his dream crew are on causing you and Ace to share a look and chuckle quietly under your breaths.

It’s when you tell yourself ‘Today’s the day I actually do it’ and you count away in your head the number of Ace’s freckles until you inevitably mess up the count and have to start all over again.

It’s when it’s raining and you, Ace and Luffy sleep in an empty hollow of a tree, the croak of the frogs singing to the drops.

Silence with Garp is suffocating and the jungle is too quiet and your brain too full of anxiety-ridden hypotheticals to even think about your childhood friends you’d be bidding farewell to. Instead, the ones you wouldn’t be saying goodbye to were at the forefront of your mind.

Another minute of silence follows before you’re unable to stop the words from falling from your lips, “Mr. Garp?”

Garp hums gruffly, bark worse than his bite, “what is it?”

“Let’s say that, hypothetically speaking of course, Ace and Luffy do become pirates,” you begin nervously, wincing at how the older man’s eyes sharpened at the word. “Hypothetically!” You’ve been a recipient of many of the marine’s Fists of Love, despite not belonging to his family, you don’t fancy receiving another. “They hypothetically become pirates and end up getting taken in,” you lick your lips as you try to imagine the scenario.

To your discomfort, it is terrifyingly easy to imagine Ace and Luffy in shackles.

The spectacle the World Government would make of it all. The grand executions of the sons of Gol D. Roger and Monkey D. Dragon.

The vitriol of the onlookers spewing words of hatred and damnation. No one would know who they are, not the onlookers in the crowds or the marines holding the weapons that would end their lives. Devils, they would be called.

There would be one marine who knew them, however. Who truly knew them and not what they represented. It only breaks your heart that in your many years of knowing the older man that you don’t know what end of the spectrum he falls on. No, that’s an incorrect assessment. What breaks your heart is that it has always been too easy suspecting precisely where Monkey D. Garp would fall.

In spite of your suspicions, you still part your lips and ask, “would you help them?” Uncharacteristically, you fiddle with your fingers, the index finger of your right hand being nestled by the thumb and index finger of your left. Clad in a tacky red button up with white roosters, the stocky man’s back seems broader than usual.

It’s the long pause between your question and his answer that sinks in your chest like a knife. “They,” Garp begins but you cut the man off with a laugh.

“Don’t be so serious,” you laugh so convincingly you almost believe you’re unbothered. “I was just messing around. I’m up in the air on the pirate thing but for all we know, Luffy’ll start talking about being the Marine King the next time you see him.”

The elderly marine laughs at the absurdity of your thought, “a king among marines, that’ll be the day.”

ー

“Your shadows not with you for once?” Stacey jokes lightheartedly as he leans his head over in mock surprise at the lack of people accompanying you.

“I’m pretty sure Mr. Garp would drag them onto that boat if they did,” anything to make those two follow in their grandfather’s footsteps. “Ace sends his congratulations anyways.”

“I’m still convinced that guy was replaced by aliens,” Demarius murmurs, squinting at the mountain’s peaks with narrowed eyes. You snort at the absurdity. You, along with your village-bound friends, had met Ace when he was more angry at the world and nearly all of the people inhabiting it. To say they’d been shocked when, the next time they met him, Ace was polite and all smiles is an understatement. Demarius’ suspicious glance lasts a beat longer before he turns his dark eyes to you, shoulders set back. “You can still come with us, you know.”

You remember being 10, running down these dirt roads playing marines with your friends as a rowdy quintet.

The battles you pretended to have against whatever made-up opponents Demarius decided you’d be fighting against. He’d always been the leader of the five of you ー him, Stacy, Pierre, Lisa Lisa and you ー would find yourselves on the tempestuous seas of the Grand Line, all odds against you.

“This is not a good day for battle but it is a glorious day to die,” you remember resolutely saying, words too heavy for someone who hadn’t been in a real fight her entire life until that point.

Real fights came after you met Ace and Sabo. When you began running amok in the capital and Gray Terminal. Real battle came when their angering the Bluejam pirates caught up with them. You couldn’t say you felt glorious fighting the Bluejam pirates in the flames of their hideout. Nor could you say Sabo’s horrifying end was glorious either. There is no glory in fighting but you will do what you have to to protect who you have left.

Pulling yourself from the memories, you shake your head, “you’ll see me at sea next year,” you vow with a grin. You lower your voice so the cantankerous marine behind you cannot hear what you say next. “It’ll just be in a way that pisses off the old man.”

There’s simply one more year to go.

You, alongside the other locals, wave the boys down until they become nothing but a speck on the horizon. Well, off their asses go. You sit on the porch step of what used to be the house that belonged to you and your grandfather. I think the last time I came here it was like, you purse your lips thoughtfully. Shiiieet, 3 months ago? You seldom spend time in the empty shack now. It is only good for your occasional visits and when you’re too lazy to head back up to Dadan’s. That is where home is now.

It’s wherever Ace and Luffy are.

Ace and Luffy who you know Garp loves but will always choose work first. He always has and he always will, so you will always choose them instead.

#look she's writing #one piece x reader #op x reader #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #one piece x you #ace x you #childhood friend au #look it's self shipping hours #sea otters #flaming pearls #this is probably going to be the start of a oneshot series for ace ngl jgndfkgjg very self indulgent but we can enjoy it together #i'll think of a series name eventually hopefully maybe #burst of sparks #putting up the spoilers tag just in case someone reading this is new to one piece

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benevolenterrancy · 2 months

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mark your words, wei wuxian

(I have modern sports aus on the brain and decided that if we're taking away their swords we should at least arm them with sticks, so it became a hockey4hockey au)

#mdzs #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lwj #wwx #modern au #sports au #wwx is very smug because his skates put him a couple inches taller than lwj #i have Opinions about wwx being the most annoying ice hockey players imaginable #he goes out of his way to find and use the weirdest tackiest stick tape possible - his current tape reads 'whatever'#and was a gift from jiang fengmian - to jiang cheng's general exasperation #wwx also definitely does that thing that's become popular in recent years where players mess with their mouth guards #again: drives jiang cheng crazy. drives lwj crazy in a different way #when wwx and lwj first met lwj was VERY studiously trying to ignore him and didn't give his name so wwx starts calling him er-gege #because his number is 2 #my art #hopefully someone else enjoys htis because i've been rotating this around in my head all morning

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rebornrosess · 4 months

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A WORLD OF NOISE: THE ZABAJABA JUNGLE

ZABA by Glass Animals is 10 YEARS OLD TODAY.

A poem/stream of consciousness I wrote about ZABA on a rainy September night in 2022, one month after seeing Glass Animals live. ZABA was the album by which I found Glass Animals in 2018, and its abstract yet visceral nature continues to fascinate me. The more I listened, the more I felt I could understand the imagery drawn across its 11 tracks.

Essentially, I believe ZABA can be understood as a Queer reading and apologue of Plato’s allegory of the cave. There are many lines that allude to a (Queer) awakening from perceived societal constraints such as in Walla Walla (“it’s a ruse, all these creatures are a lie” & “i clap my hand and they’re gone into the night”), likely referencing the shadows projected by the puppet showmen in Plato’s allegory. Thus, the anguish expressed in songs predating ZABA’s release such as in Golden Antlers and in Exxus are symptomatic of a speaker trapped in a cave, unable to escape a deeper feeling of unease because they are only seeing the reality projected to them by a cisheteronormative system. It is only when the speaker escapes this metaphorical cave in Flip, the opening track of ZABA, (“I’m gonna shake my fetters / I’m breaking loose”), that they finally enter the confusing, overwhelming, but beautiful and fluid “world of noise” mentioned in Pools (and sonically created in Intruxx). Over the course of ZABA, the speaker wrestles with their preconceived notions of reality (Walla Walla uses a ton of imagery from The Matrix), relationships, gender, and sexuality, while simultaneously feeling betrayed by their family and society (Hazey and Toes).

The B-Side of ZABA dips into existential dread, as the speaker mourns the time they lost to the incomplete reality they had accepted in the cave, and the effects it had on their mental health (Wyrd), climaxing in Cocoa Hooves, as the speaker (or someone else), confronts them(selves) and the changes they have undergone in the ZABAJABA jungle. The speaker must choose if they wish to stay in the confusing yet euphoric jungle, or self-destruct (“set [their] wings on fire”) and return to the cave after flying too close to the sun and after indulging too deeply in their primal instinct. However, just as the freed prisoner in Plato’s allegory, the speaker runs the risk of never being able to live in blissful ignorance again, as their eyes may never re-adjust to the incomplete, crafted reality of the cave.

The last track of the album, JDNT, presents a conclusion as ambiguous as the title Dave refuses to explain. It is possible the speaker is accepting their doomed fate as prophecized to them by the antagonist in Wyrd, or radically accepting their outcast status, enjoying the “life untamed.” And perhaps, in the end, they triumph over their internal turmoil by recognizing it only has power over them if they allow it to, as it cannot “breathe without [them].” And thus, they return to the Earth, unfettered and born anew.

#if you read all that thank you i would love to hear your thoughts #also some lines in the poem are straight up just lyrics but #i wonder if anyone can piece together which portions reference which specific song #i have literally been working on this since last year #i can’t believe the poem itself is finally seeing the light of day #hopefully someone enjoys these rambles because i have 50 more pages from where this is from LMAO #my masterdoc is crazy #anyways this is all just my interpretation mixed with projection but i am very proud regardless #i could ramble about this for hours #anyways i hope u guys enjoy :) i’m so happy i finally finished this #glass animals #zaba #collage #my art

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gautiersylvain · 11 months

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lamentable is the autumn picker content with plums ¤ a fanmix for romanced spawn astarion spanning the events of the entire game

also a special thanks to @astarien and everyone who contributed to #baldur's gate radio play as those posts were a huge inspiration

#bg3edit #bg3 playlist #astarion #mine*#baldur's gate #click the images for easier reading!#hopefully someone enjoys and sees my hashtag vision #literal 8tracks stuff going on here.....and i love it

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daily-keyboardsmasher · 2 months

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Day 2000

IT’S HERE

Happy 2000th day :)

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#and so we enter… the 21st century! a new millennium!#thanks to those who have joined recently and those who’ve been tagging along for longer #I say this every milestone I think but it’s true #I appreciate each and every one of you. y’all are lovely and deserve good things #1000 days is what. more than 2 years. that’s crazy to me #it’s a wonder to look back where I was all those days ago. what type of person I was #I’m sure someone reading this would feel the same way.#well to me at least #it has not felt that long… perhaps because I do this every day #or near every day at least #(we are flexible around here)#but genuinely though it is very fun to keep going with this account #to what ends I do not know #but that’s fine #it is simply a present thing to enjoy #by me #and hopefully you too #no matter if you stop and pass by or stick around #so let’s continue in the same manner into the next millenium! onwards into the two thousands!#dailykeyboardsmashes #meme #memes #shitpost #shitposts

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 10 months

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I'm very excited for more content of your lights out au, I'm so eager to see just how good you can get at writing/creating angst!

oh babey. thats where i Shine.

#i have gotten many a fic comment where people curse me out and/or say that they cried #sometimes i get someone saying i made them sob #its a compliment every time and i strive for it!#i dont fuck around with my fics i Do Not Hold Back and that is a Warning #this is the only aspect of my creations that im confident in #and hopefully soon you'll all See! you will see.#just a little taste its nothing too intense really.#id label it more hurt/comfort than straight up angst #but yeah if people arent crying im doing it wrong #i rarely do it wrong.#JESTING JESTING im not That good. now im just exaggerating for a Humorous Touch #rambles from the bog #i might. miiiiiight. might might might maybe mayhaps might #write a certain scene from lights out that everyone already knows will happen #so... might as well dust off my hurt / no comfort skills #could be fun. i want to hurt people again #in a good safe 'you Chose to read this' way #theres a certain feeling that comes with being someone who enjoys writing angst #the happiness i get from people telling me my writing hurt them. Yes <3 #so so validating. so fulfilling.#just read through some old fic comments on my better works and mmmmm talk about an ego boost....

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nekodere07 · 1 year

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Can someone recommend me Team ZIT fics? + technically fic recommendations also for those who want to read them

Preferably completed and platonic but if it's not, its ok as long as it's not obvious enough that I can still convince myself that it's /p

They can also be either Tango, Impulse, or Zedaph-centric as long as the 3 of them are there I'm ok with it

Team ZIT fics I already read so far to avoid repetition (and maybe people might also want to read them):

The Call of the Void (my most fav Zedaph centric fic so far)

Labs Were Not Made For Littles

Your Message: Come Get Me Please

cura te ipsum

The TIZ Team

What is a Tango?

When You Wake Up, You'll Be Forgotten.

Here is Home

My Behaviour’s Crazy, Can’t Phase Me!

Time Travel Zedaph

Repulse

Don't Go Pretending You're Okay When You're Not

Everything or Nothing

Furious Cocktail AU

Arctic Blaze

Lava is Thicker Than Water

Even in Death

Tapping on the Glass / Falling in a Forest

Home With Me / Home From You

Hunt the Haunt

When Everything Burns (I'm There To Calm The Blaze)

Camp ZIT

magic misfits au

Wax Covered Eyes and Void Filled Mouth

“I’m a blaze hybrid.” (my most fav Tango centric fic so far)

Magic (We All Need a Helping Hand)

Team ZIT Intro (Working Title) (DBH au is pretty interesting)

Maybe I've done enough

impulse you idiot please take a nap

Chicken and Man (No Alfalfa Here)

Tell Me I’m Frozen, But What Can I Do?

potholing

Bite Tongue, Deep Breaths

here was a man mourning tomorrow, who tried but finally drowned in his sorrow

Everything Moves (in which Team ZIT experiences the laws of motion)

Colors- aka nearly 3000 words of the author having no clue what she is doing

The Strange Being That Is Zedaph

Location Unknown

stomach bugs and self-care

Achievement hunter

Fulfilled

Omen of Death Tango

A Guide to Urban Exploration and Animatronic Repairs

Stressed Till Regressed

Losing Face (my most fav Impulse centric fic so far)

The Sun Could Go Out, We're Gonna Be Okay

i can't carry the weight

A Crack In The Egg (not a platonic fic but it's not obvious enough that I can still read it as /p, surprisingly I also loved it)

ZITS Oneshots

a little help from my friends

Lava goes "sloosh sloosh," people go "AHHHH"

I’ve Got You (ZITS angst)

Sliiping Lately

Crystals and Candy

Security Breach (my most fav non HC au fic so far)

Hocus Pocus, Zedaph’s the Focus

Broken Red Line

friends in odd places (my other most fav non HC au fic so far)

✨ UPDATE ✨

Trapped in Paradise

count your blessings, not your flaws

Cause We Are Whole (Robot Tango for the win!!!!!)

Out for slaughter

You’ll Dig a Grave With Me - 00FFFF - Hermitcraft [Archive of Our Own]

Another One Bites The Dust

Character Building with Tango Tek and co

Team ZIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT

Armour Makes the Man

Automaton Blokes

Chocolate and a Miracle or Two

You Called?

Toil and Trouble

And your just a burden.

Phasmozits au

Grade-A Pranksters

Parare Ad Convivium

It’s Just a Jump to the Left

These Hands Are All We Have

At Least You

Holes in Judgement

Swallow Your Fears

#nekodere07 #hermittober #hermitblr #hermitcraft #hc tango #tango #tangotek #hc impulse #impulsesv #hc zedaph #zedaph #zedaphplays #traffic smp #trafficblr #fanfic #ao3 #someone recommend me fics I'm desperate :(#I think I read too many Grian centric/Desert duo fics that the recent ones have been less entertaining #hopefully if I read Team ZIT I can enjoy Grian/Desert duo fics again

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theshadowrealmitself · 10 months

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You live in a crummy apartment, you don’t talk to your family anymore, you don’t have time for friends, you mostly just go to work then go back to the aforementioned shitty apartment.

The only people you really talk to these days is your rude coworker you’re pretty sure has been stealing your lunches, and a neighborhood kid that has “behavioral problems”, but it’s obvious that he just doesn’t have a good home life.

He’s actually a pretty sweet kid once you get to know him. He shares his snacks with you (seriously, you’re gonna kill your coworker one of these days) and tells you all the neighborhood gossip. He’s just a bit impulsive, honestly

He has this fluffy dog he lets you pet, and him and his dog go around searching for aliens. (Kid is obsessed with them.)

You share your food with him on the days you actually have it and keep an eye on the little guy, since it’s obvious no one else is.

It’s not long before he sees you as some kind of big sibling, and you’re proud of it, this is your little brother, you’ve decided, and you’re gonna keep him safe, no matter what.

—

One day he comes in and swears he’s seen the aliens, claims they’re hiding as humans who’ve just moved into the neighborhood.

Now, you haven’t actually talked to them, and they did seem…odd when you passed by, but they’re definitely not aliens, that much is obvious to you.

Still, you don’t wanna upset your little bro by not taking him seriously, so you just ask him why he thinks that and listen to his reasonings.

After a bit, he holds out a walkie talkie towards you, “just in case,” he says, so that he’d have a way of calling you in case something goes south.

You really don’t wanna take it, worried that if you do you’ll just be encouraging him to do something stupid, but this feels…significant. You can’t explain it, but something insists that you take it, so you do.

Eh, you figure that he’d probably get in trouble either way, and now he can get ahold of you.

Just in case.

—

Yelling wakes you up a few days later, it’s coming from the walkie talkie.

You jolt out of bed and grab it, your little brother’s panicked voice calling for help through it and feeling your body with ice cold horror.

You try to get him to calm down and get information out of him.

He’s at the new family’s house, in their basement, he’s injured and crying that they’re going to experiment on him, before his voice cuts out.

You cuss, slip on your shoes, and grab the bag that holds everything important to you, stuff like your mementos and your wallet (just in case this shitty place falls apart and you need to leave quickly), thinking that you might have a first aid kit somewhere in there since it is your emergency bag, and then you book it.

—

Soon, you’re outside that house, about to knock on their door and explain everything, but there’s that feeling again, that feeling that this moment is significant and you don’t wanna take that action, so you jog around back and find a window leading to a basement.

You’re still not sure if you actually wanna break into these random people’s house, but you can hear the kid quietly sniffling, and it drives you to force yourself through the tiny opening.

You land softly on your feet and when you look around you’re entire worldview shatters.

The room is filled with…test subjects.

It’s the only way to describe what you’re seeing. People, at least what you recognize as people, not that they look completely human, passed out in clear tubes, suspended in weird liquids.

Your eyes eventually land on your little brother and his pet dog, locked in a contraption of some kind, and it knocks you out of your stupor. You don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not going to happen to him, you promised to keep him safe and you’re damn well gonna do that.

You break them out of it, and shove the both of them through the tiny window. He begs you to climb out now, and you just demand that he runs off, to not wait for you, it’s gonna take you longer to pull your way through the window.

And besides, you can hear the door opening behind you, you already know it’s too late for you.

—

You wake up. Eventually. Apparently a thousand years later. The people who grabbed you are long dead.

And so is your brother.

Turns out, he was right, they were aliens, going around abducting people off of different planets.

Their fucked up research vessel eventually got discovered, and you were woken up.

It’s not so bad, the future. It’s…an adjustment, for sure. But not bad.

You have friends now, and a job you don’t hate. On a spaceship of all things. And you get to see the stars and have dreams now. It’s new and it’s wonderful and some days it’s so blindingly optimistic that it…hurts.

You eat 3 wonderful meals everyday and think about stale chips being offered to you by a scrappy young kid with a loving stray who looked up to you like you were their hero.

—

You see those eyes again one day.

“An alternate universe,” your captain breathes out with excitement. But all you feel is pure shock as you see your brother. He looks healthy and cleaned up, and so does his dog, still loyally by his side you note, as they throw themselves into your arms.

You’re both sobbing as you hold onto each other like the other one’s going to dissolve any second.

Meanwhile, his pup is giving doggy kisses and trying to knock the both of you into the ground.

An alternate universe.

One where you didn’t accept the walkie talkie and he couldn’t call anyone from the basement.

He sobs and apologizes for breaking his promise to you about not being reckless.

You sob and apologize for not being there for him when he needed you.

He has to go back, sooner than either of you wanted, but it’s better that way. It already feels like your heart’s breaking, it’ll just be worse if you get more attached.

You let him know you’re proud of him, and you love him, and to just focus on being happy, and you see something in his shoulders loosen, and know that this trip was cathartic for him.

Then the transporter fizzles and you’ve lost your brother again.

—

You come to find out that your brother being the one to end up in the future is the default.

You keep running into alternate versions of the ship you’re on and meeting him.

Sometimes, it’s that you don’t take the walkie talkie.

Sometimes, it’s that you do, but you don’t check the basement, just knocking on the door of the house and believing them when they say he ran off.

You’re the anomaly.

It makes sense, a young boy with a dog at his side having space adventures. That sounds natural. It sounds correct.

You don’t know if it’s better this way. If it’s better that you’re the one being abducted instead of him. You know his home life was shitty, but you don’t know if having universe hopping adventures after getting kidnapped is actually good for him.

You don’t know what you left behind, if he’s okay in the past after you’d been taken from him. But you can’t change it either way.

So you just hold all these new versions of him tightly for as long as you can, and let them know you’re sorry that you didn’t believe him, and that he’s loved.

#no fandom #little writing snippet #of a thought that has been refusing to leave me #gonna add a few more tags just in case cause I don’t wanna spoil it in the tags #second person pov #humans #okay hopefully this is enough tags #inspired by the thought of someone finding out that they’re usually the side character #aliens #not sure how to tag this #but hopefully y’all (whoever reads this) enjoys it!#there was a lot more to this #but it was one of those things where if I tried to add in everything it would've been too big of a writing project

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toaster-fire-art · 2 years

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whoa it’s march? Have a redraw of one of my favorite things, my Yin Yu design pose (i guess that kinda what it is?)

Close up and comparisons below too. Old is on the left (here), new is on the right.

There’s not a whole lot of change but I feel more comfortable in my and how i draw but I’m still stuck figuing out some things. Enough about my rambles mwah mwah thank you all for your love! I don’t have any idea how to put it into words but aasjodvbeivboevfb3 yk? makes me so happy lmao.

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girlscience · 8 months

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nothing has ever gotten me as fast as seeing something I read and only partially liked referred to as the coughing baby in a coughing baby vs hydrogen bomb dichotomy

#immediately went to the library and placed a hold on the hydrogen bomb #I saw someone say it discusses similar things to black sails YEAH BABY #(the locked tomb was the coughing baby. which I partially enjoyed but struggled with for many reasons)#(the traitor baru cormorant is the hydrogen bomb. i am very excited to read a gut wrenching story about imperialism)#there are two copies out right now and I am the first hold so hopefully I'll get it soon!!!! exciting #and it's hard fantasy apparently? which is my jam so I think I'm going to really like it

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waterfallofspace · 1 year

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Reminiscing On Rebuttals.

The one in which W/olfwood seems to have a cold, and V/ash dips into his memories in order to fight the urge to say something about it. Feat. A ‘not-so-surprise’ twist as to the cause of the ‘sickness’. Also featuring V/ashwood because this is absolutely a date even though neither of them can admit it.

Made ~this post~ and asked for suggestions, W/olfwood was picked to be the one suffering by @lycheeehehe and since I wholeheartedly agree, and deeply love this man, here’s the results of that suggestion! (sorry for ANOTHER tag <3)

To anyone who reads this, thank you! And I hope you enjoy it~~

(Contains references to swearing and mild violence, in case anyone doesn’t like those!)

Characters: V/ash, W/olfwood, + flashback/memories featuring M/eryl and R/oberto Word count: 3.6k

~~~~~~~ “Over here, Needle noggin.” Vash waves, giving Wolfwood a warm smile as he enters the dome. The sentiment is not returned, but he does get the signature smirk, cigarette hanging from his mouth, as usual. ‘Whoops- probably should have warned him ahead of time…’ “H- hey, you actually can’t smoke in here.” Wolfwood pauses, giving Vash a measured look, dropping and crushing it with a huff. Vash responds with a sheepish smile, before gasping, holding up a finger. “I actually have something you can have instead!” He digs frantically through his pockets, ‘Come on, where did I leave it… I know I put it somewhe- ah-hah! Got it!’ He stands tall, eyes closing as the smile takes over his cheeks, and holds out the lollipop. “You bought me candy?” “Well… yeah! I figured that you’d be unhappy with the no smoking rule, but I remember you sometimes like to suck on candies instead, so… w- was it not right..?” There’s a hesitation in Wolfwood’s posture that Vash can’t seem to read, but after a pause, he takes it. Vash lets the smile brush back over his face, turning on his heel to start giving Wolfwood a tour, before he pauses. “What was that?” Wolfwood’s stiff, and Vash notices the way his face has a bit more colour then it did a minute ago. “What was what, blondie?” “Hm… nothing, I guess. Just thought I heard something.” “We’re in a fucking bubble of plants. You probably heard some, I don’t know, plant noises.” A laugh shakes Vash’s body, even Wolfwood cracking a smile at the sound. Vash lightly grips his arm, letting the excitement flow through him again. “Can I give you a tour? There’s a lot that’s changed since the last time you’ve been here, and I wanna show you all of it! My favourite is probably the trees, they’re so huge, oh wait no, my favourite is actually th-” “knNNT’chh-!” “Oh, bless you Nicholas!” “N- not yehht- hH’GNxxt’chh-! dnGT’chh-!uhhh...” “Bless you again! Are you-” “I’m fine, focus on the tour.” It would be more convincing if he didn’t have to break away to let an itchy cough dance through his chest at the end. Vash lets his grip tighten on Wolfwood’s arm, the latter still not having pulled away. They stand like that for a moment, Vash feeling every shiver that runs down Wolfwood’s spine travel up his arm as the coughing breaks off into heady sniffles. Vash can feel the question simmering on his tongue, starting to burn his mouth. ‘Are you sick?’ But before he lets it out, his mind drags him back to travelling with Meryl and Roberto. ~~~ “Are ya sick, Wolfie?” “I t- told you… hH’ZSHHHEEW-! God almighty- I told you not to call me that.” Roberto raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence. ‘It doesn’t suit him’ Vash allows himself to think, throwing a blessing at Wolfwood before glancing back over at Meryl, who has pressed herself as far away from the coughing man as she can manage in such a small car. “You didn’t answer the question.” “I’m not sick. hEH’KESHHH’AA!” “Bless you!” “Real convincing.” “Wel- eh’kNTSSHHH’AA-! Fucking- hAH’IHHZZSHHEEW-! If you weren’t plannin’ on listening to my answer, why ask the damn question at all?” “Bless you!” Vash can’t help but chuckle, blushing slightly at the dirty look Roberto shoots him for the laughter. “I- I mean, he’s got a point, what his answer was gonna be was k- kinda obvious.” “See? Even spiky hair gets it.” “Vash isn’t exactly the blueprint for how to be honest ‘bout your health.” “I guess you’re right there, but that don’t mean I’m sick just because blondie agreed with me. His lack of self care ain’t relevant. heHhh-! Christ, not agai- eH’AAIYESHH’AA-!” “B- bless you…” The pint tint deepens as Vash sinks into his seat, shooting Roberto a sheepish grin, met with a shrug, before glancing back at Wolfwood. He manages to catch the hiss that scrapes through the tired man’s throat as he brings his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his defined nose. “Headache?” He’s careful to keep his voice down, Meryl and Roberto having started a conversation ‘More like argument’ about her driving style. Wolfwood gives a slight grimace in his direction, letting his eyes flutter shut as he roughly attempts to crush all of his nose in his wrist, unsuccessfully, as the tickle takes over again. “hAH’AIISHHH’AA-!” Meryl jumps once more, though Vash can’t tell if it’s from the noise or the fear of germs. Either way Wolfwood doesn’t miss it, neither does Vash miss the pale red starting to spread across his ears. In an effort to remedy the situation, Vash pulls out a pile of crumpled napkins, handing them over with a silent smile in lieu of a blessing. Wolfwood gives him a slight nod of thanks before burying his nose in a few rapidly pressed against his face. “hH’MMFFFSHHH’UHH-!” “Bless you.” It’s barely a whisper, but Vash knows it was heard. He lets his hand wander up from the seat to rest against Wolfwood’s shoulder, wincing at the tension that meets him. Wolfwood meets his eyes, a flicker of something burning in them that Vash can’t help but yearn for. “Sleep.” Wolfwood nods, letting his head fall to the side, the side that Vash’s hand just so happens to be placed on. Vash lets out a warm smile, eyes jumping to the front to make sure they’re not being observed. After confirming they’re not, he runs his hand against the tired man’s cheek, his blush spreading deeper at the slight congested sigh he’s met with, shortly replaced with stuffy snores. ~~~ “You’re not gonna faint on me, are ya?” Vash feels the world rush back into focus, Wolfwood’s expression teasing, but with a hint of genuine concern drifting in his eyes. ‘Oh, I totally just spaced out… how long was I not paying attention? It’s not like I can tell him what I was thinking about… come on Vash, think on your feet, you’re supposed to be good at this!’ “N- no of course not! Sorry I was uh… just thinking about p- plants…” Wolfwood raises an eyebrow at this and Vash mentally smacks himself. Thankfully, Wolfwood doesn’t fight it any further, most likely too focused on directing another wet sniffle at his shoulder, followed by an entirely too itchy throat clearing. “Alright then. eH’GNT’chh-! You gonna start showing me the plants instead of jus’ thinkin’ about them?” “Bless you! Right, of course, let’s go left first, that’s where the trees are, work our way back over to the far right, that’s where my favourite ones are!” “Lead the way, blondie.” A squeak escapes Vash’s mouth as he beams at Wolfwood, grabbing his arm again and dragging him off towards the trees. He can’t help but try to speed a bit through the explanations as Wolfwood’s sniffling seems to increase to a near constant level. Light, yet itchy sounding coughs keep spinning him away from Vash. ‘And then there’s the sneezing that he seems determined to stifle til it kills him, stubborn idiot.’ “hH’dnXGT-! haHHhh-! iH’ASH’nxxGT’choo-!” “Bless you…” Wolfwood responds with a deep sniff, letting his nose rub against his wrist with an urgency that seems almost too personal to watch. Vash turns away to give him a bit of space, feeling his chest clench at the way the last one nearly broke through. “R- ready to continue?” “Go ‘head, keep talking about your trees.” “Actually we’re onto the bushes now! I know, it seems a bit like trees but smaller, but there’s actually a load of differences. So firstly-” Vash lets himself start rambling out facts about bushes as easily as breathing. He’s spent days on end studying each plant in the dome, listening to people talk about them, reading about them anywhere he can find information. ‘There’s just something so soothing about them… a simplicity that humans don’t seem to share. It’s one of the things I love most about humanity, and yet… also something I adore about the plants.’ A slight hum pulls Vash out of his monologue, letting his eyes rest comfortably on Wolfwood’s gruff form. His hand is permanently pressed to his nose, a slight cough escaping on every second sentence, colour starting to spread through his cheeks. Despite all this, Vash can tell he’s listening to every fact, soaking in all the beauty of nature. And maybe, soaking in the beauty of something else too. “You said these things flower, and then grow berries from those flowers?” “Yeah! Which is really fascinating because the flowers themselves aren’t particularly tasty, or edible for that matter, but the berries are delicious!” “If you say so. hEH’enGNXT-! dtKNgxxt’-!” “Bless you. It’s actually surprising how many plants are edible, and which ones taste good! See, some look good, but don’t tast-” “hA’DANGTT-! S- shit… huHhh-! Guhh… ihhh… hiHH’AIIESHHH’AA-!” “Oh, bless you again!” “Don’t waste your breath, needle noggin. You were saying something about tasting good?” Vash tries to recall the point he was making, but his attention is preoccupied watching Wolfwood attempt to rub his nose clean off his face. He lets out another light cough, stumbling a bit with the effort taken to contain the sneezes that follow right on its heels. ‘Seems they’re not satisfied being crushed into oblivion anymore.’ Vash fights the instinct to offer a blessing, instead offering a distraction from the miserable sniffling. “EHHNGXT’choo-! hehh’SHHkngtt’choo-!” “Can’t remember what I was saying before, but that’s okay, you’ve probably had enough bush facts… Let’s move to the flowers instead, some of my favourites are over there! They just have such beautiful colours, it’s almost like a sunrise but in a physical form, plus-” Grabbing Wolfwood’s arm yet again, Vash practically skips over to the flowers, his excitement only dulled by the way Wolfwood flinches away from Vash into his shoulder to stifle another set. “iH’hNGtt-! eh’KngXT-!” “Bless you.” “Thanks, blondie… excuse me.” Standing in front of the flowers, gesturing to a field of poppies, Vash finds himself studying Wolfwood, trying to catalogue symptoms. ‘He doesn’t seem feverish, but there’s the sneezing, sniffling, he’s got a cough, and his voice seems to be getting hoarse. Though, I can’t tell if that’s from the stifling or a sore throat. And then he excused himself instead of brushing it off or making a joke… he’s gotta be feeling worse than he’s letting on… I should really say something… but…’ ~~~ “INKGT’shoo-!” “Bless you. You should really stop that, you’re gonna implode.” “Thanks for the concern shortie, but it’s misplaced. You should be more worried about the fucking mob waiting to skin us alive outside the door. Thanks for that, stampede.” Vash blushes, Roberto and Wolfwood shooting matching glares in his direction while Meryl offers a sympathetic smile. “I tried to warn you! I said they weren’t exactly fans of mine here…” Meryl suddenly joins in on the glares, Vash feeling his face run pale, a sheepish smile forming as she waves her hands around with an irritated retort. “That’s not the same thing as ‘oh hey guys, heads up, the whole town will actively try to hunt me down and kill me’.” “hH’AIIYYZZSHHEWW-! RRSHHH’AA-!” Roberto rolls his eyes as Vash and Meryl offer simultaneous blessings, Wolfwood brushing them off with a rough sigh, turning his attention back to the crack between the boards of the window they’re crouched around. “It looks to be about ten, maybe fifteen at most. I could take maybe six on a good day.” “Is this a good day, undertaker?” “heHhH-! hEPT’TNGGK’choo-! Christ- iHH’ZZSHHHEEW-!” Meryl and Vash echo the previous blessing, prompting a new round of eyerolls from Roberto, Wolfwood joining in this time, before Roberto casts his eyes back on the sickly man. “Gonna take that as a no.” “I’m fine. Now are we gonna do this or what, blondie?” “Y- yeah… I mean… or we could try to find a back way, run away before they can get in…?” “An- AYYZZSCHHH’OO-! And why exactly would we do that?” A nervous smile works its way across Vash’s face as he goes to answer, Meryl shooting him a pointed look he chooses to ignore. ‘Someone’s gotta say something… he’s gonna get himself killed if he tries to go out there in this state.’ “Bless you… and well… you seem a… a bit… sick- hey, ouch!” Vash yelps as Wolfwood’s hand meets the back of his head with a rough swat. Roberto lets out a light chuckle which Meryl glares at him for, giving Vash a soft smile as he rights himself. Wolfwood, however, is glowering at him. “I am not sick. I don’t get sick. heHhh…! Oh for fucks- hEH’KNNZSSHHHEW-!” “Deny as much as you’d like, Wolfie-” “Don’t call me that.” “-the fact remains, you’re in no state to take on this many people. Stampede is right, for once, we should try to find a back way out and sneak away.” “Fine, I ain’t gonna fight you. Rather save my energy for kicking this one’s ass for getting us into this mess.” Another blush spreads across Vash’s ears, dipping down into his cheeks as he rubs the back of his neck with his hand. Wolfwood smirks a little at the display, before dipping back into his chest with another harsh outburst. “knNGT’ZSHHH’oo-! IHHZZYYSHHHEW-!” “Bless you.” There’s silence in response, but as Meryl and Roberto head downstairs to start scoping out possible exits, Wolfwood lets his head rest against Vash’s shoulder, sniffling deepling as the position loosens the congestion. Vash lets a soft smile form, running his fingers through Wolfwood’s hair, giggling at the sigh it releases. “I’ve got you, Nicholas.” “I know, blondie.” ~~~ The scene finishes playing in Vash’s mind. As he regains conscious-thought he finds, much to his alarm, that he’s been talking the whole time. ‘So final verdict, mentioning the illness leads to physical retaliation, but if I just keep up what I’m doing he’ll seek comfort on his own terms. I can do that. Side point, it seems I can just rattle off facts about flowers without even being consciously aware of it…’ “-and that’s why I enjoy lavender. Do I talk in my sleep?” Wolfwood who’s been nodding along, offering light hums or growls between the outpouring of his symptoms suddenly stops, raising an eyebrow as he casts a smirk towards Vash. “Where did that come from?” “I just- uhh… was wondering..?” “hEH’INNGT’shoo-! Well-” “Bless you.” “-not much that I’ve heard, just a few words here and there.” “What?! And no one ever thought to tell me?” Vash gets a shrug in response, but a mischief dances through Wolfwood’s watery eyes, smirk deepening against his cheeks. ‘He’s obviously feeling well enough to make fun of me still, though given his mindset of denial, that just means he isn’t on death's door yet.’ “I guess it must’ve slipped my mind. hH’ESHNXXT’shoo-! Damn it.” “Bless you. D- do you maybe have a…” Wolfwood throws a dirty glare his way, eyes daring Vash to finish the sentence. In response, Vash feels his cheeks warm, ears starting to faintly burn. It’s quickly replaced by a pang of concern as the latest sneeze has left Wolfwood slightly trembling as he attempts to catch his breath. ‘I need a new plan, something to get him sitting down so he can rest, without being too obvious. I could say that I need to rest, but he wouldn’t buy that… Oh I got it!’ “Do you wanna come see my favourite flowers? They’re called sunflowers, they’re so tall and bright yellow with a black center, it’s just stunning, wanna see..?” “That’s what I’m here for, ain’t it?” The response sounds cold, but there’s a playful tone in Wolfwood’s voice that sends chills down Vash’s spine. His hand trembles at the thought of grabbing him again, ‘Maybe I shouldn’t keep pulling on him… I don’t know if he wants-’ but before he can spiral too far, Wolfwood lets his own hand grip Vash’s. Neither of them says a word, matching colours blooming over their cheeks as Vash leads him towards the flowers. “There’s a bench in the middle of the field, it’s practically surrounded by them, can we sit on it..? I really like how close you feel to them on it.” “hept’IZNNGT’choo-! Scuse me. If you insist, blondie. Your tour after all.” Despite the way he rolls his eyes, Vash can hear the sigh Wolfwood releases as he sits, elbows resting on his knees as he lets his head fall into his hands. Vash starts to ramble on about the sunflowers, but is cut off before he even finishes the first sentence. “I love how tall they are, they even reach up to our hea-” “hAH’AIIIYYSHH’OO-! KZZSHHH’AA-! hiHhH’IZZSHHH’AA-!” “Bless yo-” “KNG-ZZSHH’AA-! I can’t… hUH’EEYSHHHEWW-! AIIEESHHHEW-! RRSHHHH’AA-! I can’t stop… heHhH-! ahh…. iHH’KNGTT-DTGXT-huH’IZZSSHHH’OO-!” “Are you okay-?” Vash’s panicked tone comes with a frantic attempt to figure out why Wolfwood’s suddenly so much worse. He lets his worried gaze run across Wolfwood’s convulsing form, a stabbing pain in his heart as the sneezing man attempts to give him a wide eyed look. He only succeeds in prying open his eyes for a second before the onslaught crushes them shut once more. “hEH’KETSCHHH’AA-! eh’kNTSHhhew-! What the fuck is happening- haAhHH-! aiiyESHH-keschhh-rRRESHH’AA-!” “Come on Nico, just try to breathe. Bless you- I don’t understand why it got so much worse?!” “I- eh’EASCHHH’oo-! hH’RRSHHH’AA-! KESSHH’AA-! Every breath- ma- makesitworse- hEH’INGGTT’choo-!” “Bless you… Every brea- shit Nicholas- stand up, right now, here, grab my arm, just stand up! Why didn’t you say something?” Wolfwood does as he’s told, and Vash grimaces at the state of his nose as he leaves the safety of his arm to shoot Vash a confused look before ducking back in, smothering another desperate fit. “MMFFSHH’AA-! hEH’INNGT-RRSHHH’AA-! eH’MMFFSHH’OO-!” Vash pulls Wolfwood along at a pace that leaves both of them panting for air as they reach the doors of the dome. He practically throws Wolfwood through them, the panting man slumping down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor, Vash taking a seat next to him. “Christ Nico, why would you enter the dome if this was gonna happen? Bless you again…” The sudden realization that seems to dawn on Wolfwood’s face between desperate hitching nearly gets a laugh out of Vash. Without a word, Wolfwood ducks back into his shoulder, aiming away from Vash but entirely giving up on catching them. Vash takes a deep breath to calm himself, noticing how they’re already sounding slightly softer. “uhH’ZZSHHHEWW-! yyyiESSHH’aa-! hh’AIISHhh’oo-!” “Here, bless you by the way, take these, they’re not much, but it should help.” Wolfwood greedily accepts the napkins, attempting to crush his defined nose into the stack as another set pushes its way out of his battered sinuses. “heHh’knNGSHH’oo-! iZZSHHHEEW-! Fuckin- hAH’AIISHH’aa-!” “Bless you. Jeez, I thought you were just sick? Why didn’t you tell me?” “I als- heH’ESHHEEWW-! Also thought I w- hH’RRUSHH’AA-! was just si... sick- hAH’keTCHshh’oo-!” Another itchy cough leaves both wincing as Wolfwood attempts to suck air back into his lungs between spasms. Vash runs through the events in his head, too distracted to offer a blessing. ‘I should have noticed… when he’s sick it usually starts in his throat, he should have been hoarse before the sneezing started… I was just so distracted by the plants…’ “It’s my fault, I’m sorry. I should have noticed, or said something, I just…” Wolfwood lets out a rough laugh as the coughing fades out, sending the burning feeling back to Vash’s gut. Chills run down his spine as he realizes one of Wolfwood’s hands is still clinging to his. Wolfwood sniffles deep and wet before he responds. “Not your fault. I’m not the easiest person, am I, blondie?” “Heh… not exactly…” “Seems I’m not the easiest allergic person ei- heH’IZZSHH’AA-! either.” “Bless you… Again- I’m really sorry Nicholas, I shoul-” A light squeeze to his hand shuts Vash’s mouth mid word. His eyes trace up to Wolfwoods, shivering at the warmth that’s waiting for him. “Not your fault. I’ve had this sort of reaction to things before. Turns out I’m a pretty allergy prone guy I guess. Christ- eH’KETSHHEEW-! aiiYESHH’aa-! Might be one of the reasons I enjoy trudging the desert so much. Don’t normally run into much besides sand.” “Bless you. You have allergies?” “Yeah, and what of it? They’re actually a sign your immune system works too well. Plus I guess I needed something to combat the fact I basically never get sick. Wouldn’t be fair to all you folk if I just got to be immune to everything.” Vash allows the laugh bubbling up in his chest to reveal itself, mind flashing back to all the many, many times he’d seen Wolfwood sick. ‘Denial to the very end. Predictable as always, Nicholas.’ Wolfwood’s smile brightens at the sound, dark eyes feeling nothing but warm as Vash soaks them in. “hEh’aiiYEshh’oo-!” “You’re starting to sound a bit better, bless you. I guess not being in the dome helps. And it probably helps to not be sitting at nose-level with all that polle-” “hEH’RRUSHHH’AA-! IZZSHHHEEEW-! Oh god blondie, don’t even say the word.” “Bless you! Sorry! Why don’t we go see if home has some medication somewhere.” Wolfwood coughs again, lighter but still itchy, and lets out another deep sniff. “Sounds like a plan. hept’ktSHHAA-!” “Bless you, Nicholas.” “Thank you, Vash.” Shivers run down his spine at the use of his name. ‘People call me that all the time but… somehow it feels so… personal… when he does it.’ A bright smile slips across his face, Wolfwood echoing it with one of his own, whispering something under his breath that Vash just catches, before standing and starting to head toward home. “I’ve always loved your real smile.”

#waterfallwrites #welp i did it again and wrote another thing #i hope that someone enjoys it but if not i had fun writing~~#to anyone who bothers to read this thank you SO much!!#and anyone who leaves comments/tags please know #i read them ALL and they ALWAYS make my day #im so incredibly thankful for anyone who leaves them!!!#snz #snzkink #snzfic #t/rigun s/tampede #w/olfwood #v/ash #w/olfwood is my beloved and i love tormenting him #hopefully others enjoy it too hehehehehe #ok ok ok fine ill just post it HERE YA GO

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