#obpbl

[iftheshoef1tz]

Hello! I’m reading “our bodies, possessed by light” for I think the fourth time all the way through. This is the first time I’ve caught that when Azriel told Eris to not not call him shadowsinger he doesn’t for the rest of the fic🥹

Anyway, one thing I love about your piece is trying to parse out what Eris is thinking, given the perspective is fully from Azriel and he often has trouble figuring that out himself. I think almost all your writings since have either been from Eris’s perspective or flipped between the two. When you were writing Our Bodies, were you also imagining Eris’s perspective? Or considered writing from both perspectives?

Thanks for sharing your writing. Have a great rest of your week!

i'm so honored you'd reread it once, nevermind four times!! thank you so much.

when i was writing obpbl, i knew mostly what eris was thinking or at the very least his motivations behind certain actions. some good advice i got when i started writing howl, which is dual POV, was that each POV had to contribute something and couldn't solely be a rehashing of events but from the other character's perspective, and i think that's why i ultimately decided not to write anything from eris's POV in obpbl. while sometimes eris's emotions weren't clear to azriel, they're usually pretty clear to the audience espeically towards the end, and i think stating them so plainly would have taken away from azriel's journey/emotional landscape.

the closest i've come to writing something in eris's POV in the obpbl-universe was becasue of the song "this bitter earth/on the nature of daylight," which just screamed eris to me. (it will also make me cry almost every time i listen to it.) if i had written it, it would have been the aftermath of the first gay sex cabin chapters, just after azriel leaves.

thank you for reading and asking such a great question!!

[diamonata]

Azriel and Eris. Inspired by our bodies, possessed by light by iftheshoef1tz on AO3

Read obpbl here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37959277

[queercontrarian]

@iftheshoef1tz eris with his curse

it is what it is *throws up blood*

[queercontrarian]

obpbl memes II: obpbl out of context

@iftheshoef1tz

[temperedink]

☁️🍰

☁️ wip you want to write but haven't started yet

SO many. I'm dying to write one where Feyre and the Valkyries reform Illyria, but I am soooo not capable at the moment to write a long fic like that would have to be and to, y'know, completely restructure a society. (@iftheshoef1tz did it so beautifully with the Hewn City in OBPBL, and I can only aspire to that kind of greatness.)

I also have one about Elain in the Hewn City, and a couple about Tamlin (who I do not love, but I think fanon Tamlin has gotten a bad rap).

🍰 where you like to write

I write almost exclusively from my bed. I fucked up my tailbone earlier this year (skating fall) and it's still not healed, so sitting for long period of time is not great for me--but I liked working from bed anyway.

[iftheshoef1tz]

our bodies, possessed by light

chapter forty: have you passed through this night?

The disconcerting wind of the Hewn City drags across Azriel’s skin as he passes houses and carved stalagmite trees. The stones beneath his feet slant this way and that in a familiar pattern; his feet remember the cadences of his steps despite how long it’s been since he set foot here.

People occasionally stop and stare, and though their expressions aren’t kind, they’re not quite the fearful ones he remembers. He wonders how many of them know—about the beasts in the dungeon, about him, about the way he is a foreigner in a familiar land now.

It’s not long before the ruby-eyed snake knocker on Helena’s door is glaring down at him, the purple light making the jewels look like they’re moving. His fingers have just touched the ring when he pauses. He knows the sound will be eaten up by the heavy silence soon enough, but he can’t bear to hear it thudding like a phantom heartbeat, and so he knocks.

[iftheshoef1tz]

this is so beautiful and tender and I love it so much I could weep (well, could continue weeping, anyway) 🥹 I am so touched that Rachel commissioned this, and Steph did such a wonderful job bringing these two to life!!

Commission for the amazing and sweet @house.of.hurricane from @iftheshoef1tz AzRis fic “Our Bodies, Possessed by Light”!

I’m only two chapters in but wow I love it, Fitz does such an amazing job already!!! Go check it out here!

[queercontrarian]

i'm gonna make obpbl memes to get over the fact that it's finished. i need to cope somehow.

@iftheshoef1tz

[iftheshoef1tz]

our bodies, possessed by light

chapter thirty-nine: this world is only gonna break your heart

Another flurry of letters accompanies the next two weeks. The meeting will still be held in Dawn, though the impending summer solstice has thrown the timing into disarray. Summer and Day, of course, have days-long celebrations on either side of the longest day of the year, ones that cannot be rearranged for something as trivial as a meeting about trade.

Eris lounges on the chair in his study as he tells Azriel all this, one finger tapping on the back of his other hand. Azriel perches on the corner of Eris’s desk, reading slowly through the collections of letters that had arrived today. “No one has called this meeting trivial.”

“Not in so many words,” Eris grouses. “But I know they’re thinking it.”

[stellahibernis]

Sunday Snippets, Mar 19th, 2017

Well, the terrifying amount of unfinished things went down by one this week, since I posted Our Bodies Possessed by Light yesterday. Last week I mentioned I wasn’t really excited about the prospect of editing stuff, but I had a bit of a hectic week, and editing is kind of a low energy drain, so I ended up doing it over the work week.

I wrote about 3.5k this week, all of it yesterday and today. It took a bit to get going, because I was breaking new ground writing Sam and Nat’s POV, and I had to find my voice for them. There are bits from both their sections at the end of this post.

This was for the story in which I’ll be doing my version of the scenario where Bucky hangs out with everyone but Steve, and Steve predictably takes it well. Also, yesterday in OBPbL notes I said I seem to be in a place where my brain keeps inventing new complications for their relationship. Well, this fic is where most of those have tended to go. I think of something and just go, yep, let’s add it to that. It’s a bit of a miracle it’s not looking like an unholy mess, but somehow at least the outline is pretty coherent. 

Oh and it’s a post CATWS canon divergent AU, it’s the point in canon where this kind of a story makes sense for me. I’m still borrowing things from AoU and CACW, like the twins and the trigger words.

It’s also looking to be long, not as long as These Are My Hands but I’ll be surprised if it doesn’t pass 50k. I’ve got 7.5k so far and the first chapter and half of the second written, out of (probably) nine chapters all together, I need to figure out how the last third works out still. I know in broad strokes what I want to do but I ran out of energy while outlining after six chapters.

***

This is Sam, on the road with Steve post-Insight:

When Sam was little, he used to play he was on a mission with Captain America. It’s funny how life sometimes happens, the unlikeliest boyhood dreams become reality. Only the reality is nothing like the dream. The only part that’s the same is the broadest concept, he’s indeed accompanying Captain America on a mission, the fact that does, on odd moments, despite everything else piled on top of it, still give him an almost childish thrill.

Back when he used to fight the imaginary battles he knew nothing about the war, couldn’t understand how horrible it had been. Now he’s much wiser, and he understands enough that even if he was in a special unit, one that got sent into the most dangerous places to pull people out, he still knows from what Steve has told him that the reality of Steve’s war was much worse. Much more horrifying and desperate than he can imagine. It was nothing like he used to imagine, nothing like the colorful pages of the comic books, or the somewhat sterile take of the history books he used to read while a bit older.

Steve isn’t exactly what Sam expected based on the histories either, not like the image that had grown inside his head ever since his childhood. What is exactly as Sam had expected is his ability to inspire people to take a stand, to fight for their cause. Sam enlisted not in small part due to Steve, much to the distress of his mother, even if she had understood his calling especially when he’d made it to the pararescue. She understood then and still does the drive to save lives, and Sam remembers he’d pointed out that the first mission Captain America had been on had been a rescue mission. 

An unsanctioned rescue mission, as he now knows, and driven by a need to save one very important person instead of the abstract idea of doing the right thing and saving many. Sam knows that for a lot of people knowing this would tarnish the image of Captain America, but for Sam it’s all the more reassuring to have seen there’s a human being behind the legend, someone that’s flesh and blood, anger and sorrow and hope, distress and love.

It was worth it to step up again, getting back into action with someone that had been the reason in the first place. Back then, back when he first set out to get his wings back with Steve and Natasha Sam had though that was it, duty calling him back. Instead he’d ended up making a friend.

Now he’s driving a nondescript car on a back road in Romania, and he’s here for his friend, not the national icon. He’s here for his friend who’s fraying at the edges, desperate to find the most important person in his life back from dead. It all sounds so ludicrous it all might as well be from one of Sam’s comic books, except those stories always ended up with captain America saving the day and everyone going back happy. This time there are no guarantees.

***

And here’s Nat, on a mission with Bucky:

It takes them three weeks, getting information through both their resources, pooling it and comparing the details, but they figure out that Karpov is in fact alive, and living in Cleveland of all places.

“That’s practical,” James notes. “No need to figure out travel documents.”

They’re at Natasha’s apartment again, eating Indian take-out on the floor. James is marginally more relaxed than he was the first time, marginally more of a person. Natasha mostly doesn’t push him to talk, she knows well enough that at this point just being with another person is a lot. They can talk later. 

She drives them to Cleveland, and they break into Karpov’s place at night. The amount of traps and alarms that aren’t connected to any kind of official security company is rather a giveaway that they are indeed in presence of someone that needs to be paranoid. And for all that Karpov has been paranoid, it’s not enough, because they make it inside without making a sound and Karpov wakes up with a metal hand covering his mouth. 

Natasha needs only to glance at James to know they indeed have the right man, the way his face has settled into a emotionless mask enough of a giveaway. Karpov is exactly as paranoid as the traps indicate, since he’s got a cyanide capsule among his teeth, and in a true believer fashion kills himself. Natasha can’t find regret in herself, since she knows he wouldn’t have given information away, the level of commitment clearly indicating that.

“Saves me from having to do it,” James says, and Natasha realizes he’d walked in with the intention that Karpov would never walk out. It makes sense, she figures, after all even if they took the documents, Karpov still probably remembered the words, and it would have been too much of a risk to let him live.

“Do you remember everyone who potentially knows the words?” she asks out of curiosity.

“Yes. They always kept the group small, HYDRA didn’t even trust themselves.”

“And?” she prods.

“You know already. He was the last.”

[poisonivy206]

your honor i am crying on public transport thinking about @iftheshoef1tz's azris again ����😭

our bodies, possessed by light

by: @iftheshoef1tz on ao3

He presses his lips first to the pad of Azriel’s thumb. “You are here with me, Azriel.” His lips drag along his other fingers. “And you are mine.”

It’s so awful, this tenderness, because it feels too revealing, but, he supposes, if he has revealed himself, Eris is no less vulnerable.

“I am,” Azriel croaks.

from chapter 38: "i can feel your body calling me."

This it the first of two edits I made because I couldn't not choose a favorite and this fic deserves the world. Find the second edit and a slightly mushy review here.

[if you haven't had the pleasure of reading this incredible fic yet... what are you still doing here? click the link]

[ofduskanddreams]

The Twelve Hounds of Eris Vanserra

from left to right:

Cinder, Blaze, Hyperion, Maple, Granite, Spark, Fern, Vulcan, Willow, Cheddar, Erebus, and Acorn.

my second offering for @erisweek2023 day 4: Hounds, another little doodle of mine with names for all twelve of them ♡

Cheddar is from @iftheshoef1tz’s fic obpbl, @ablogofsapphicpanic named Willow, and many of you will probably recognize Cinder and Erebus from my own fics :)

[iftheshoef1tz]

our bodies, possessed by light

chapter thirty-eight: i can feel your body calling me

The world moves on, and Azriel drifts.

Every day is mostly the same. He wakes up, stares at the ceiling until either his stomach hurts from hunger or he needs to pee too strongly to stay in bed any longer. He tries not to think about Cassian, or Nesta, or his mother.

Sometimes, when he can convince himself, he stands by the bedroom windows, looking out at the beautiful Autumn foliage but not really seeing anything. Other times, he crawls back into bed, the weight of reality crushing him into the soft blankets.

[poisonivy206]

in spite of international postal services (my mortal nemesis) 💖 a bit of christmas love in march for my main squeeze 

Once again, @poisonivy206 is too good to me. Hawthlain art by @diamonata

[iftheshoef1tz]

our bodies, possessed by light

chapter thirty-seven: like wildfire, it starts in my chest

Content warning for Pain™️ which includes panic attacks, a character breaking into someone’s apartment because he fears the other has committed suicide, and just generally bad mental health.

He lands in his apartment, an enormous lump lodged in the back of his throat. He presses his hands into his eyes as the shadows swirl slowly around him. Their touches linger, the way they used to in his father’s dungeon. The box in his chest, the one that holds all the anger and fear and desperation, is slowly opening.

Outside, the sun is shining, people are laughing at the Bluebird, and someone is whistling as they walk by. Blackness is eating its way through him, and he wonders if this is what Eris felt like, that curse clutching at his heart. He can’t stop seeing Eris’s face, that awful look burning and burning him -

“Stop it, stop it, stop it,” he hisses into the stillness of his apartment. Only when his eyes begin to really hurt does he rip his hands from his face. The world wobbles as sparks flit across his vision, and he glares hatefully around him.

[iftheshoef1tz]

told my therapist about almost being done with obpbl and she told me she was proud of me 🥹