ofduskanddreams
ofduskanddreams
she/they. i'm a mood writer. 24 . kindness is sexy—be sexy.
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@futurehunt thank you for "forcing" me as you say because you caught me at the perfect time <3
I think I'll have to post two examples because my WiPs are few and (shockingly) aren't that angsty? Weird ik. I'll save the WiP for last because it's for a CC fic that contains HOFAS spoilers. I'm not going to post a single line because I feel like things can only be heartbreaking with some context lol.
“What’s wrong, Azriel?” The Lady of Night asks softly.
The shadows drape themselves over my wings, trying to offer me comfort.
“Is the sky on fire, lady?” I manage to ask, my voice shaking as the memory of burning flesh fills my nose and my hands feel like a thousand of his wife’s needle pricks all at once.
Concern flashes through her eyes as she turns to face me.
“The sky is not on fire, dear. The sun is setting. You—you’ve never seen the sunset before?”
—from "Is The Sky On Fire," a short 1st person exploration of Azriel's initial journey to Windhaven.
~don't read beyond this point if you care about HOFAS spoilers~
tagging: @ anyone who wants to share their devastation with the world :)
Tharion doesn’t let himself miss the water on his skin as he towels off the clinging droplets. Ever since taking the antidote, he doesn’t need to submerge and shift every day. He hasn’t tested the limits of this new development much. He makes due with the saltwater pool in the Aux facilities every few days. A year and a half ago Tharion would have wanted nothing more than the ability to live Above with no restrictions.
The grass is always greener, wanting the things you can’t have, etc.
Tharion heard from his parents once after the battle, a short note when the dust was still settling on the Eternal City. They’d apologized for their previous letters, thanked him for being a war hero, and wanted him to come home.
He still hasn’t replied. They know he’s alive, he’s been in the news often enough. But Tharion’s home hasn’t been his home in years. Not since he lost Lesia.
Tharion Ketos, Lesia’s older brother—a name he would sell his soul to regain, an impossibility.
“Captain Whatever,” Holstrom had called him all those months ago.
Captain Worthless, Tharion thinks, leaving the Aux complex. What kind of officer had he been that he couldn't protect his sister in his city? What kind of male was he to take the title of Captain as a reward for solving the case, to profit from her death?
— from an untitled Tharion/Ithan fic I started writing this winter and hope to finish by the next 🙃
I'm sure (or hope at least) that there are more heartbreaking lines I've written but life hasn't let me write much this year and this is all I can come up with rn.
Most Heartbreaking Line
@sarawritestories tagged me in a challenge to share the most heartbreaking line I've ever written for any of my WIP's and I was like babe...how would I choose??? This is me we're talking about.
Literally live footage of me piling angst onto all of you, 24/7:
Anywho, then she said, and I quote, to think of "which one will hurt me the best and pick that one" so, you can have an as of yet unpublished two lines that won't make much sense out of context, but when you read chapter fourteen of Truth & Talon, you'll know what she's apologising for (and then you'll cry).
“I’m sorry.” I choke out, trembling slightly against him. “I feel like I let you down.”
“No, angel.” He says quietly, cradling me close. “You didn’t let me down.” His arms tighten around me.
I shall no-pressure-tag: @justallihere, @revelationinthelightofday-writes, @void-my-warranty, @yanny-77, @callmeblaire, @velvetlilacsdaisies, @sarahydeart 🖤
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Azris Week 2024 Prompts & Rules
We are delighted to announce the prompts for Azris Week 2024! Each prompt is accompanied by a few suggestions to help spark creativity. Don't feel obligated to follow the suggestions. We intentionally kept the prompts very open to interpretation this year and can't wait to see where the inspiration leads.
Day 1: Contrasts
The chilled darkness of the night, the warming glow of a fire's light. One spends his life pulling strings behind the curtain, and the other is center stage dancing to several tunes beyond his own. Born to privilege, born to poverty. One's family found, the other's fractured. "Contrasts" is a broad theme, how will you explore it?
Day 2: Familiars
Take it to mean the noun—hounds, shadows, horses, other pets, maybe sentient little flames, companions, friends, family, etc—or expand your interpretation to the adjective and see where it takes you.
Day 3: Contact
How do the heir of Autumn and the Shadowsinger communicate? Through letters or texts, maybe, or through heavy gazes and the brush of fingers on exposed skin. Have they always spoken with each other this way?
Day 4: Free Day
This is self-explanatory.
Day 5: Slice of Life
So much of this enemies-to-lovers ship is full of strife, pain, and betrayal. But what about the quiet moments? Whether in the midst of chaos or with lower stakes, how have they learned to love each other?
Day 6: Changes
What changes? What remains the same? Change for the individual, change for the pair. Think of shifting opinions, a changing world, personal growth, and developing relationships. One of the reasons we ship Azris is our love for their dynamic. How dynamic can they be?
Day 7: Solstice & Equinox
Autumn Equinox, the shift in seasons from light to darkness, a time of harvest and plenty. Winter Solstice, the longest night, the turning point. One can predict that the Autumn Equinox in the Autumn Court is as grand of a celebration as the Winter Solstice in Night. We're closing out the week with a hearty dose of holiday spirit.
1) Be respectful. We're here to celebrate Azris and appreciate the creations made in their honor. This is a positive, inclusive space which won't stand for bashing of any kind.
2) Please direct any event-related questions to this account, not to the mods individually.
3) Tag us and use #azrisweek2024 when posting here or on Instagram so that we can reblog/repost. If you are posting a work to AO3 add it to the event collection here.
4) Creations of all kinds are welcome and encouraged! Fics, fanart, mood boards, headcanons, incorrect quotes, edits, playlists, etc. We will not be promoting AI generated/altered images or fanworks.
5) A caveat to the previous rule. This event values maintaining the integrity of characters as they are canonically portrayed and won't tolerate characters being warped to fit heteronormative roles. We reserve the right to use our discretion and not engage with content, regardless of how it is tagged, if said content perpetuates harmful stereotypes.
#azrisweek2024#I’m so excited you guys!#last year blew me away#and I have a feeling we will be even more amazed this time around#surprises are being cooked
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After 2 whole months having to go without it, I finally was able to get my adhd meds again y’all!!
(just in time for me to see FOB this weekend)
#I finally catch a break in this shit show that has been my life in 2024#my mom has recovered enough from her knee replacement that she doesn’t need me#to be her AND my youngest sister’s caretakers anymore#I can stop struggling with my mental health now that I’ll have the right meds again#the last hurdle is my physical health but my surgery is in less than a month#I know I’ve been MIA and I’ve hated it#I just haven’t had the energy and I’m excited to be bouncing back soon
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little life update below :)
(TL;DR finally some good news)
After idk how many months, I FINALLY have a date for my sinus surgery 🥳
I cannot even describe just how ready I am to be healthy again y’all. It’s been a time.
My sinuses are getting remodeled on April 25th and after a few weeks recovery I should be getting back to my old self—perfect timing for Azris Week 2024 (the first full week in June, follow us @azrisweek)
I’m so excited to get some energy back along with my health. This fandom means so much to me and I hate that I haven’t had the capacity to be active here. I miss writing so much and I am so hyped to have the mental space to create again!
Thank you to everyone who has reached out and wished me well, your kind words and the reminder that I have a community here have been a bright spot during a very overcast period of my life. Now there is a sliver of sunlight on my horizon as I eagerly await the dawn <3
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Mark your calendars: Azris Week returns, June 2-8, 2024!
Run again by @ofduskanddreams, @darkphilosophies, and @iftheshoef1tz, we have some exciting things in store for you all this year. Stay tuned for prompts, some special Azris Week activities, and more!
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Hi tumblr 💕 long time no post.
I turned 24 today and still don’t have a set date for my sinus surgery but I’ll know soon (hopefully.) I really miss being active in the fandom and regularly putting out fic and I cannot fucking wait to have the energy to come back.
I’m also sad because my Xiao is too tall 🙃
#kinda#personal post#just want to say that I’m still alive#yeah I play Genshin#sad I lost the 50/50#but now my Kazuha is guaranteed so I cannot complain tbh
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What’s up tumblr today I finished HOFAS (read below for my opinion) and I also wrote 1200 words of fic :D
S P O I L E R S B E L O W
ngl it was very mid to me
it was fine™️
I got very frustrated with Bryce and her character felt ~different~ in this one for some reason, more Aelin-like if I’m being honest.
There were also a few points where the conflict between characters felt manufactured and I don’t vibe with that.
I also think my underwhelming reaction is just due to the nature of the book. Y’all know me and have read my fics—I love a deep dive into a character’s mind and seeing how they tick. I’ve read every SJM series and ACOTAR remains my favorite because the books are from the perspective of one or two characters (acofas excluded.) Part of the reason I really enjoyed the first two CC books was because of the big cast of characters and their potential.
I would personally have been happier if hofas was split into two books because the number of things that were happening and the rate at which they happened didn’t leave a lot of room for character exploration. Everything felt rather surface level, let’s get X from point A to point B etc.
It was (to me) a lot of telling and not a lot of showing, so it didn’t hit very hard. It was perfectly fine and I’ll be giggling about Hunt pulling an Iron Man going into space for a while to come though.
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~another little update~
tl;dr it’s going to take me longer to get surgery than I’d hoped 😔
The American health insurance system sucks. I was all set to schedule my sinus surgery (see this post for context) only to learn that my insurance no longer considers the clinic system I was using in-network.
I essentially have to start over if I don’t want to pay lots of money that I do not have. I scheduled a consultation with a new, in-network ENT but the earliest opening was February 7th. Until then I’m in sinus infection purgatory and it’s likely that the surgery won’t happen until March.
I really appreciate everyone’s kind and supportive replies to my last update, I wish I had better news to share <3
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Hii! i absolutely love your fics and i was just reading "like falling stars, we're destined to burn" and i was wondering if any new chapters were coming out soon?
Ofcourse no pressure or anything, i was just thinking if i need to add new dates to future anticipated chapters lol
Hello, I’m so happy to hear that you’re enjoying my fics 💕 lfswdtb is currently on hiatus as I’m dealing with some health issues. It’s not abandoned, I have the rest of it plotted and everything, but I cannot give you an estimation of when I’ll be continuing it.
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I hope y’all all had a lovely new years! It’s time for another little personal update below the cut :)
I know many of you won’t care to read and that’s fine, I’m just putting this here because it’s the easiest way for me to communicate with everyone who might want to know. Here is the previous personal update for context.
With the holidays happening, things have been moving slowly on the medical front.
The bad news: I have another sinus infection, but what’s new 🙃 it feels like I’ve had one for half a year.
The good news: the ENT got back to me about my CT results and I’m just waiting on a call from their scheduler to book the surgery! Unfortunately, my CT results also indicate the need for the more intense of the two surgical options we were considering.
(I have to have a hard cast on my nose? For like a week? And can’t get it wet? RIP to my religious skincare routine ig 🥲)
Fortunately, once I have the operation the recovery is fairly quick. The first week I’ll feel like an out of commission, sad and blob-like imitation of a human. Then I get the cast off my face and 2-3 weeks later should be starting to notice an improvement in my quality of life compared to how things were before the surgery.
I’m hoping I’ll be able to have the procedure as soon as possible, realistically meaning I’ll be happy if I can get it before the end of February because that’s how things tend to go in my experience. I’ll update you guys once I know.
I can’t adequately describe just how much I’m looking forward to having energy for fandom again. I miss you all so much and I miss writing as frequently as I used to.
I miss being able to get through every day without basic things (sleep, cooking, working, existing) feeling like an uphill battle. Which, honestly, is really saying something because I’ve lived with Ehlers-Danlos my whole life—I am no stranger to battling through hard days (and sometimes waving the white flag because I can’t win them all.) When every day is a “hard” day though it’s not a very good time.
TL;DR I’m excited to have my sinuses surgically altered and get back to you all. I hope you all are well and that this new year brings you joy and peace 💕
#personal post#life update#kate’s sinuses suck#but they are going to be professionally remodeled#and made livable again
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Silver Lining
azris | T | undercover, canonverse, no magic, one bed | 3.4k
A very happy @acotargiftexchange to @bubybubsters! Although we aren't your original secret santas, @octobers-veryown has created this dashing moodboard to accompany the gift fic below I have written. We hope these tick a few of your likes from your list: secretly good/High Lord Eris, a hint of Feysand and Elucien, and of course - The One Bed Trope.
Many thanks to the darlings @queercontrarian and @popjunkie42-blog for the quick and efficient beta reads!! <3
ao3
~*~
“So we’ve reached our decision?”
“All in favor say ‘aye’.”
The chorus of resounding confirmations come from around the table. Each one is like another hot coal added to fuel Azriel’s ire where he stands back, leaning against one of the House of Winds’ red walls.
Elain and Lucien, acting as the representatives of Day Court, are the last vote. Elain’s eyes flicker to Azriel, apologetic, before she nods towards Lucien.
“Aye,” Lucien enunciates, threading his fingers through his mate’s above the tabletop. There was a time it would have eaten Azriel alive to see such a display, but now he only cares about the fate all those gathered today have sealed for him.
Feyre clears her throat where she and Rhys stand tall at the head of the table of the gathered High Lords, High Ladies, and their representatives. “Then it’s decided. High Lord Eris will travel to his contact in the south of the mortal realms under cover … aided by the Night Court’s Shadowsinger. Both of you hold the fate of Prythian in the success of your mission, travel swiftly and with the grace of Mother on your side. We’ll prepare whatever you may need for your journey.”
Shadows writhe around him as Azriel fights to control the swell of conflicting emotions. Of all the fae to be forced to safeguard —
“Give us time to discuss details and we can present an itemized list to the Council?”
The Autumn lilt in Eris’s speech grates Az’s nerves for no reason other than the male’s tongue has no right to sound so pleasant.
“The Council grants two hours. Speed and secrecy are our only allies in this mission.”
“Understood.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
A muscle twitches in Azriel’s jaw. “What other choice was presented to me?”
Eris’s muscles bound together under the collar of his finely embroidered tunic as he shifts through paperwork, dips his quill in ink, and begins jotting down a list. He doesn’t look up as he answers, “I can find another spy’s service. You were readily available, that’s why your High Lady volunteered you. But considering …”
Azriel waits impatiently for Eris to collect or finish his thought — or to stop pausing for dramatic effect, whatever it is he’s trying to accomplish with this oddly cordial conversation.
Russet eyes flicker up to him. “Considering our history, I would understand if you wish to decline. The nature of this mission requires a complete trust in each other and if you still harbor ill will towards me because of a centuries old feud, I must insist you back out. I’m the High Lord now, my people require I return. They require this mission is a success.”
Reasonable.
So gods-damned reasonable.
Where is the arrogant prick he’d lunged across a table over a century ago to choke?
Azriel’s wings ruffle with annoyance. He’d heard Eris has changed with the relief of Beron’s death, has grown into himself as High Lord and no longer has the time to spend stirring up trouble for the sake of it.
He’s heard he’s a changed male. Living up to the words another had said to him about “being a good male under it all.”
But he hadn’t believed it.
Until now.
The shadows whisper of the sincerity the High Lord speaks with. They also whisper that no spy readily available in the Prythian network will be as good, as reliable, as seasoned, as Azriel.
Certain death, they whisper, unless it’s you, Master.
Something twists in his gut as he watches the proud male, his sharp jaw and freckle smattered cheek bones, assessing the documents in front of him once more. Writing down his list of supplies to request from the Council: cloaks of invisibility, lamas bread, a network of mounts prepared for them at predetermined way points.
It will be hard riding, hard living without the use of their own magic. Only their common sense, weapons knowledge, and a few enchanted items will be between them and death on foreign soil.
It’s for Prythian, he tells himself as Azriel moves close enough to feel the body heat pouring off of the High Lord of flames.
“I have contacts with a new enchanted shroud that has improved upon the cloak of invisibility's flaws. They’re expensive as hell … But let the Council dip into their coffers.”
Eris peers over his shoulder, cunning mouth twisting into a smirk as he watches Azriel’s flowing script as he adds to the request list.
“Let bygones be bygones?”
“A temporary amnesty, lets say.”
“Alright, Shadowsinger.”
“Some day, I would like to not be embroiled directly in life or death plots,” Eris mutters, stretching his legs as they dismount their exhausted mounts.
They’ve been riding hard for nearly twenty-four hours straight and have swapped horses thrice.
Azriel has never known such pain as the ache in his seat, in his knees, even in his shoulders from holding himself balanced on his horse while they have trotted most of those hours, sometimes breaking into full canters in stretches of path Eris deems too dangerous to linger on.
They’re now at their first rest spot since entering the southernmost duchy of the mortal realms. It’s a desolate mountain town, but Eris recollects from travels past that it's the safest.
Azriel dismounts and tries not to lose his balance, the glamor that has hidden his wings and other more fae features does nothing to assist with the odd balance he’s needing to learn quickly without their weight.
“That will be the day Eris Vanserra is found dead.”
“Touche.”
Azriel nearly smiles at the omission. He has to catch himself to remember despite the truce he doesn’t fully trust this male. It goes against what they agreed upon, but since it wasn’t an official bargain … Azriel watches the swagger Eris approaches the inn with, the soldier of his youth replacing the mighty High Lord as the glamor has rounded out his ears, dimmed the luster of his fiery locks so its merely enchanting rather than breathtaking to watch the curls of his longer pieces of hair along his neck —
Enchanting?
Azriel pinches the bridge of his nose.
Too long in the saddle. Too many days on lamas bread alone.
“I need a hot meal and bed,” Eris says to Azriel as he holds the door open, “If memory serves, this place serves a hearty stew and non-moldy bread.”
The tavern on the bottom floor of the inn is crowded with all types — mostly sellswords, likely half moonlighting as the bandits that haunt these routes, but there’s a few distinguishable merchants as well. The number of people overflowing from the bar, the tables, and even the dance floor where the band is playing a lively jig, makes Azriel’s skin crawl.
Without his shadows, he feels naked. Exposed. Vulnerable.
The only blessing is the Illyrian broadsword strapped to his back and Truth-Teller on his thigh.
“Get us food while I get our rooms?” Eris asks, surveying the crowd. Although he doesn’t appear outwardly nervous, there’s an obvious calculating edge to that russet gaze.
If there are no rooms left, it will be a hell of a night sleeping in the stable with the horses for their already aching bodies.
Azriel nods wordlessly and heads for the barmaid.
She smiles prettily at him as he approaches — flashing her gaping smile, several teeth missing. Azriel keeps his features carefully controlled. It isn’t his first time interacting with humans, but for his purposes milling about average folk hasn’t been as necessary …
“What’ll it be, sir?” she begins pouring a stein of ale before he can ask. “For you and your partner, yes?”
Azriel straightens. “He’s not my —”
“ — business partner? But you rode in together. You two are nicer dressed than most of the business types that stop through. Fancy those swords are more expensive than this whole shitty inn, eh?”
“Likely not,” Azriel says with a frown. “Two hot meals, please.”
“Alright, alright, the strong, silent type. Got it. Don’t you worry, Greta will take care of you. Here’s your ale, I’ll get you a meal that will fill both of your bellies to bursting and maybe you’ll share some of those pretty coppers I know you have with Greta.”
Azriel takes the steins and tries to avoid eye contact with anyone else in the tavern. Even with the glamors, they stand out.
When Eris drops into the booth beside him — one Azriel acquired by swooping in before another raggedy band of humans could beat him to it, cowed only by his size to move on — he’s grimacing into the pale brown reflection in his drink. There’s a fly floating on the surface he’s been debating removing.
“We should have had Lucien give us less teeth in the glamor,” Eris grumbles.
Azriel looks up and notes the flush on the male’s face, the obvious aggravation in the tense draw of his shoulders.
“Tried to swindle you, too?”
“The astronomical rate the innkeep charged me and for one bloody room, Mother above.”
Azriel freezes.
There’s only one key on the table between them.
Eris exhales into his drink before taking a strong pull of the weak alcohol. Azriel watches the bobbing of his throat as Eris swallows, the press of his lips as he removes the cup and the quick dart of his tongue to swipe any foam from his upper lip. It’s nearly distracting enough to pull his thoughts from the critical detail Eris seems to be brushing over.
“How many rooms?”
The High Lord looks at Azriel’s still full stein. “Why haven’t you — Cauldron, that’s disgusting. Go get a new one, why are you brooding over it instead?”
“Because Greta will shout to the tavern again that we are sizable targets to steal from and when I have to kick all of their asses, it’ll risk blowing our cover,” Azriel says through his teeth. “Eris. How. Many. Rooms.”
Eris clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth and shrugs, averting his gaze. “One. It’s all they had left.”
“How many beds?”
“Stop asking stupid questions.”
And just like that, the truce broken.
“It’s not stupid,” Azriel growls, and every overwrought nerve ending is screaming at him to reach across the table and strangle this good-for-nothing, spoiled High Lord with his nose in the air and complete disregard for —
“Grow up, Azriel. Haven’t you shared a bed before? You have brothers.”
“Not in centuries. I like my privacy.”
Eris shrugs. “You’re welcome to your privacy out with the horses then.”
“Prick.”
Their meals are set on the table in front of them. Eris smiles up at Greta and her lack of teeth and attempts to push her assets together in an enticing manner.
“My companion here needs a fresh ale, could you be a darling and get him one minus the fly?”
“Oh my! Oh no! Let me fix that right up!”
“No, it’s fine —”
Azriel and Eris lock stares across the table, all three of them grasping at the stein.
Greta fumbles, “Sir …Surely you don’t want to drink a fly?”
Eris’s russet eyes burn with repressed flames. “You’re not so uncivilized, right, Azriel?”
Damn him, of course Azriel doesn’t want a drink with a fly, but Eris has no right to make decisions for him. Anger burns through him, indignation at having his own problem solved for him, like Eris has any right with his handsome face and swaggering charm to just —
Greta laughs awkwardly. “I’ll just bring you a fresh one, let you two sort this out.”
At least he won’t have to worry about the barmaid flirting with either of them again. The stein falls to the table in a clatter and ale and the fly leaps over the sides … Right onto Eris’s slice of buttered bread.
The fly’s wings twitch as the ale soaks into the bread.
Eris bares his teeth at Azriel. “Do you feel satisfied now, you Illyrian —”
“ — here we go, I knew you were full of —”
“ — I’ve been nothing but decent, you’re the child that can’t —”
“Here’s that fresh ale! Oh … I’ll get you another slice of bread, sir … but it’ll cost you.”
Eris grimaces through a smile at the barmaid. “That will be amenable, Greta. Thank you.”
They brood over their dinners, silenced by the woman’s uncomfortable gaze. At least the food is as hearty as Eris claimed it would be, even if they’re searching for more surprise seasonings of bugs.
Lively music and the din of the crowd fills the space between them.
Exhaustion tugs at Azriel.
All he wants is to stretch out on a semi-decent mattress and rest his eyes and body for a few hours. But the best he’ll get is a sliver of that. If not for the logistical nightmare of the sheer size of both of them trying to fit in one bed without touching, the unpleasant —alright, occasionally pleasant— surge of feelings that close proximity to Eris causes in Azriel…
Sleep will be difficult, even as exhaustion settles into the very marrow of his bones.
It’s just like sleeping with his brothers, he tells himself. Not that his cheeks flush with heat or his skin feels too tight just at the thought of sleeping beside Cass or Rhys.
Gods, he’s screwed.
And now he’s been a complete idiot about the ale.
Azriel scoops the last of the meal into his mouth and dabs at his mouth politely. When Greta had promised their bellies would be bursting, she likely didn’t realize she was feeding an Illyrian sized appetite.
There’s still food on Eris’s plate.
He’s barely eaten the meat, sticking to the greens and potatoes. Azriel furrows his brow. Is Autumn Court largely vegetarian? Or is the High Lord just too snobby?
“What?” Eris asks, setting his fork down and sitting back.
Azriel looks between his plate and the male. “Are you … going to eat that?”
“I can’t stop thinking about that fly.”
“Haven’t you had worse out in the field?”
Eris looks around the tavern as he admits, “I haven’t been in the field in a while. My palette has become more refined.”
“Spoiled, you mean.”
“Fine. Spoiled.” Eris shoves the plate towards Azriel. “Have at it.”
Setting aside the flare of anger between them, Azriel accepts the plate with a polite dip of his chin. He needs to get control of himself before they’re in one bed, trying to navigate the small space.
Admittedly, the more food he inhales, the less slighted he feels over Eris trading out the ale anyway.
Eris’s eyelids are drooping by the time Azriel scrapes off the last bite of meat and gravy.
“I’ve ridden hard before, but it must be the lack of magic,” Eris says through a yawn. “I feel drained. Almost like —”
“ — faebane?”
“Exactly.”
At least there’s none of the stomach churning nausea to go along with this form of magicless exhaustion.
They pay Greta and Azriel slides a few extra coppers into her hand out of guilt for his display of emotion she had to bear witness to.
“Well. It’s a bed.”
Azriel sighs despondently.
A small bed compared to the one he has at home, that he’s used to winnowing to whenever he does rest. So, maybe Eris isn’t the only one spoiled by the passage of time and changes in positions and the luxuries those positions afford.
“At least I don’t have my wings,” Azriel says with a sigh. It would have been impossible with them.
Eris unbuckles his sword belt and sets it on the narrow table. He begins unfastening the buttons on his jacket, his boots next, until he’s standing in only an undershirt and his trousers. Freckles dot the pale skin exposed from his loose collar that bares his clavicles, the strong muscles of his neck and shoulders that are lined by the thin fabric the rest of the way down.
Strong. It’s not easy to forget this High Lord has earned his place.
“Don’t bring road dust into the bed,” Eris says absently, otherwise not commenting on Azriel’s hesitation to undress when they’re both standing so close in the small square footage of the room.
He climbs into the bed and shoves himself against the wall. There’s just enough space remaining for Azriel.
Suddenly self conscious, he blows the candle out before shucking his sword and jacket. At home, he sleeps in the buff, but of course on a mission, with Eris in his bed —
Why is he even thinking about that implausible scenario?
Azriel toes off his boots and slips under the covers.
Their shoulders touch if they both lay on their backs. The quick touch sparks a quick movement in both of them to readjust, surprising Azriel. Eris is just as jumpy, and this close he can pick up the High Lord’s elevated heart rate.
So, this isn’t straightforward for either of them.
Eris clears his throat once they’ve finished shifting and the bed no longer creaks beneath their substantial bulk.
“I don’t believe I properly thanked you yet for agreeing to accompany me on this mission. I know you understand how important it is to keep Prythian safe, but without you …”
“You’d be going into a suicide mission?”
The click of Eris swallowing is like a bell ringing. In the dark, neither of them can see the other’s face, read the vulnerability that opening up to a lifelong enemy entails, but there’s other tells.
“Why did you offer to do it then? If you knew I’d be justified to say no?”
“The truth is maudlin… and a little bit pathetic. But we’re getting close to seven hundred and I’ve heard that’s when the sentimentality starts to creep in for anyone other than my prick of a father.”
“Sentimentality or senility?” Azriel quips out of instinct, then corrects quickly, “Sorry. Go ahead.”
Eris chuckles low and warm.
It sends a shiver down Azriel’s spine, and the soft huff of air as the other male must have angled towards Azriel draws across the exposed skin of his arm in his short sleeve shirt. The fine hairs there prickle in response, drawing to attention in the same way every nerve ending seems to with the shift in their discussion.
“Everything Lucien has overcome, his spirit to impact change. It inspired me. And my mother is so proud of the male he’s grown into.”
Azriel thinks of his own mother. The worry creases along her lines when she asks after his well being, if he’s been taking care of himself … Does he make his mother proud? She says he does, but is that simply because he hasn’t remained as the little boy locked away? Has he actually accomplished anything to make her truly proud?
“It’s pathetic, I know.”
“It’s not,” Azriel says quickly. Too quickly. Heat rises from his chest, up his neck, and creeps across his cheeks.
Eris sighs. “It’s naive to assume I can accomplish anything through a grand gesture, but I know how everyone questions if I’ve really changed. They don’t understand what it took to survive Beron’s iron rule … But I would like to be an honorable male who can act in the light, like Lucien.”
Silence blankets them until Azriel wonders if Eris has drifted into sleep.
He knows his entire being is screaming for rest and he’s fighting the urge tooth and nail because … because those words mean something. Eris is sharing something significant and Azriel had agreed to join him because of the need to protect his own loved ones, but now.
Now he’s glad he’s here with Eris.
Eris shifts on the mattress and their arms brush. Azriel doesn’t jerk away this time. Eris has paused, but when Azriel doesn’t move, he relaxes his body into the position.
“Since I’m tied to your grand gesture, I guess maybe it will drag both of us into the light,” Azriel says, the words quiet like a secret.
“We can both look like fools together.”
“As long as we’re successful fools.”
Eris laughs through his nose and Az doesn’t stop the small smile from parting his lips as his eyelids slide shut.
“Lets focus on getting out of this alive and we’ll see about the rest.”
Azriel doesn’t respond. His stomach is alight with too many feelings, anticipation and excitement. Thankfully it's all drenched in his heavy meal and half of Eris’s and so his mind can’t race for too long.
Maybe he’s been fighting this undeniable draw between them for too long, holding on to an old feud solely to keep this distance wedged between them.
As Eris’s breath even out beside him, Azriel shifts ever so slightly to increase the span of their bodies that touch in the bed.
Maybe it’s time to remove the distance.
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Thank you for the gift!! I’m excited to see what happens next ❤️
SANTA TELL ME [pt. 1]
@ofduskanddreams I was so excited when I knew that I was gonna write for you, like really excited. I'm sorry I got a bit late but I hope you really, really like it.
This is the first part of a multi chapter fanfic and I hope that you really enjoyed it.
Warnings: English is not my native language so I'm sorry for any possible spelling mistakes.
Azriel didn't expected his life to be like this when he was a child.
Well, maybe it did, but definitely did not expect to be a courtier in his work just to make alliances. He, as a matter of fact, was a better courtier than his brother was, he loved Cassian, but he was an asshole and sucked in all the aspects of the work it has to be done.
He was okay with being a spy, with interrogating and murdering people, well, not okay with it, but he learned that it was for the better for the Court and did know his job was relevant and it had to be done. Sometimes he thinks of it and doesn't know what to do with his life if it wasn't for the job he has been doing for the past five hundred years.
But having to work even in the holidays. He was maybe not a big fan of the rumbling and the stupidity of all the things he had to endure during solstice, but was one of the only holidays he had, and maybe was a little angry with Rhys for accepting in his name to go a week into the Winter Court to see the holidays there and make a treaty between the Winter and Night Court, but it did pissed him off.
He was expected to accept it since Mor was back from the fucking Continent and Amren wouldn't go, and his brothers and his mates were obviously out of question being the first solstice as a pair for Cassian and Nesta and being the first solstice of Nyx, so he was the better option. Well, the only option available, cause Elain was out of question again.
Between the three of the brothers he was the most patient one, since his life consisted in waiting and waiting for his job to be done, but he was done waiting and wanted to scream to Rhys for the fuck he happened to be the solstice.
That he could join them for the night after solstice for the annual snowball fight, and definitely he would make them pay for this, cause Cassian agreed it was a good idea to make it happen.
But tonight he did not have any patient, so when he throws the glass he has on his hand to the wall it shatters in many pieces, oh how he wanted it to be one of his brothers, he was fuming.
And nobody could do anything about it, not now that the answer had been sent to the Winter Court.
He needed something to calm down, or it will be a very long week. Seven days, he had to survive in the Winter Court for seven days before he could wipe that attitude off Rhys's and Cassian's face with the floor.
Oh how he hated them in this fucking moment.
He hated not being in control, he was a fucking control freak, how could he not when all his choices where out of his hands for all his childhood and early adulthood, even now he hand not all the control in his fucking life. He adored his family, he really did, but not now, not when they make decisions for him without even noticing until the night before he had to go.
Oh he would not go unnoticed. He had a clear idea of what to do hen he arrived, but definitely he would destroy Cassian and Rhys in the annual snowball fight, he had won many before and would won many after this one. He outnumbered the other two of them, not even adding up his victories did they compare to Azriel's.
He didn't tried to sleep, it was useless, he knew he couldn't sleep in this fucking situation. So he started thinking of anything he could've forgotten, even though he knew he hadn't forgot anything.
When he had calmed down he picked a book of the library he had in his plain room, he had read it at least a dozen times, but he hadn't get any knew book that caught up his attention a simple bare minimum, so he kept re-reading the books he already read.
He spent all the night reading till the sun was up, then he had put down the book and took his bag full of clothes, plans, and information he had not memorised. If he was being honest, he remembered quiet well, but being an asshole knowing almost everything normally made people feel uncomfortable, so he pretended most of the times he didn't knew, other times he was extremely cocky about it, reaching the top level of being an asshole.
Cassian was already up when he came out of his room, but choose to ignore him, he really did not wanted to talk to someone so early, he would shout at him if pushed far enough, and he would push, even though he knew it was not good for any of them.
He was gonna go out for several days and eve though it was all bullshit it was better than having to see all happiness around him revolve while he was unsure about everything.
The bag on his shoulder didn't felt like any weigh was there. A remember of all the little things he needed to be set up in another place. A feeling of discomfort waved from his chest. His life was a scattering mess again and again and again, and he couldn't pull from the waves that were pushing and pushing him far below from the surface.
He loved Nesta and Feyre like her sisters, he really did, but before them he was taken care by Rhysand and Cassian even though he did in fact not tell anyone he was hurting, and here they were, far apart from each other, maybe it was unintentional but he did not wanted to go to the Winter Court. It was freezing there, and when it was really winter in all the other courts it was almost unspeakable how his hands really hurt with all the extra freezing.
Not any gloves could fix that shit.
So he started flying, snowflakes in Velaris were merely starting to fall, and when he was out of reach of the city he had called home for centuries now, he winnowed far away. Just when he reached the border of Nearon, the capital of the Winter Court, he started to feel his hands begin to frozen up.
How he hated winter and how he loved it at the same time.
He hated how it make him shiver every time he saw something like a cave or a hole on the ground full of snow, he remembered very well how it was back in his fathers house, the cell full of worms and snow in winter. He hated how his hands ache all this time after the incident with his step brothers, he hated the memories of all of that. He mostly hated winter.
But he loved it when it was not freezing but chill outside, late winter reaching spring, with the chill and the sun bathing all his body without being feeling hot. The snowball fight was the only time he loved snow.
He looked his surroundings, while his shadows explored all the zone. In less than ten seconds there were two white heads that caught his attention. Kallias and Viviane, High Lord and the Lady of the Winter Court.
"Shadowsinger, a pleasure to see you" said Viviane with a wide smile.
"Pleasure is mine" he said with a nod.
It didn't take him long to have it his own way while both of them started speaking of something about the holidays. Azriel was unsure why but his shadows were starting to wander far, far away from him.
"This week we wanted that our visitors meet our traditions so that they could maybe catch some for their Courts, and maybe start a new trade way." Kallias didn't say anything else.
He didn't comment, but was in fact curious of who else would be visiting in this holiday another Court for work and allies purposes.
It wasn't till he saw the palace from far far away that he smelled a smoky scent. Burnt wood, cinnamon and leather, that what it smelled like, and he knew quite well who that scent belonged to. If the holidays weren't terrible enough they might just get worse.
Eris Vanserra was grinning in their direction. Azriel couldn't be more pissed of.
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Magic to Make the Sanest Go Mad [pt. I]
@acourtofladydeath I was so excited when I learned that you were my giftee this year, and also worried how I was going to keep this a secret from you (fingers crossed I succeeded?) I'm so grateful to have gained your friendship this year, and I hope you enjoy part one of your gift!
This could stand alone as a prologue-esque one shot, but I have more things planned so part two will be coming early in the new year. This part lays the groundwork, I swear there will be more actual Azris content in the second half <3
Summary:
The end (chapters 63+) of A Court of Silver Flames and beyond from Azriel's and Eris's points of view.
Rated M ✦ 8.3k words ✦ read it on ao3
start reading below the cut :)
Azriel is reviewing reports when Cassian returns to the House of Wind. He expects his brother to head to the dining room where the house is keeping a plate warm for him, and then come fill him in on what they learned from Eris that afternoon. That is not what happens.
From the sound of it, Cassian is trying to crack the stone floors with every step he takes. Azriel listens while those furious footfalls pass the dining room without pause. He’s steeling himself for whatever storm Cass is about to unleash upon him… it’s all for nothing. Cassian never reaches the spymaster’s rooms, but he slams the door to his own with enough force to make the water in Azriel’s glass ripple.
In his experience, there are only a few things that can rile his brother to this degree, two of them being Eris Vanserra and Nesta Archeron. Given that Cassian came back to the house alone, Azriel suspects the latter but that the former isn’t wholly blameless—Eris Vanserra never is.
Cassian loves fiercely and proudly. Azriel’s always admired this about him. It also means that Cass’s other emotions regarding those he cares for are equally fierce. Nesta, Azriel thinks, is very much the same even if she pretends otherwise. Sparks often fly when two evenly matched blades clash. This isn’t the first time for Nesta and Cassian. It won’t be the last either, so Azriel returns to his reports and tries not to worry. Cassian needs to cool down; he’ll talk when he’s ready to.
— ✦ —
That night, sleep comes in fits and starts. Dreams and nightmares wake him; overly persistent thoughts drag against the tide of his exhaustion. When he manages to fall asleep, the cycle repeats. Azriel gives up about an hour before dawn, pulling on his leathers in the darkness. He throws himself off of his balcony, letting the chilly dew-damp air drag him downward for a few seconds before he spreads his wings and glides.
Velaris at this hour is his favorite. A fair portion of the city’s inhabitants choose to sleep during the day and rise with the setting sun. Now those folks are back in their homes before their fires and winding down for sleep. It’s early enough that those who rise with the sun haven’t yet emerged. When Rhys was trapped Under the Mountain and Azriel couldn’t leave the city limits, this sliver of not-day-not-night was his salvation. It’s the only time the streets fall truly quiet.
Now, he flies above those empty streets until they give way to gently rolling hills of swaying grasses and, finally, a pale expanse of sand. Azriel lands, startling a small crab who scuttles toward the frothy waves as quickly as its little legs can take it. He sits on his usual driftwood log and wills the briny air filling his lungs to center him.
Time passes differently with his eyes tracking the ebb and flow of the waves. Before he knows it, the rising sun is warming his back and outstretched wings. Azriel closes his eyes, soaking in the gentle heat. He’s very accustomed to an ever present chill in his wings—every Illyrian is. For all the hurt-fueled-hatred he holds for Illyrian culture, even Azriel can agree that birchins are a delightful creation for this very reason. But, where the hot steam forces warmth into his blood and bones, the soft radiance of a rising sun coaxes that warmth to flow from within him.
It’s bliss. Between the dawn, the hypnotic susurration of the waves, and the salty air cleansing his lungs with every breath, Azriel feels a sense of peace come over him for the first time in weeks. But, as it always happens when anything feels too good to be true, the moment shatters too soon.
There’s urgent news from Darach, a shadow informs him.
His eyes fly open, and he has to blink against the light before they adjust.
A scrap of paper falls into his lap that reads: Briallyn has Eris. His own soldiers attacked him last night while he was hunting. My informant says they all winnowed to her palace.
“Fuck,” Azriel breathes, crumpling the note in his fist.
There were other Crown-controlled soldiers out there?
The shame of a simple oversight and its disastrous consequences burns.
Did Cassian mention it and he forgot? Phrases in Eris’s voice echo between his ears, making such terrible sense in the stomach-sinking way only hindsight can elicit.
Azriel’s fingers thread through inky locks, gripping and pulling until the sting anchors him. Now is not the time to fixate on his mistake. Cauldron boil him; he just should have followed up, made sure, done something—No. Not the time.
He needs to focus.
Okay. What does he know so far?
That Eris, their ally who knows too much about the Night Court, has been taken by their enemy. An enemy that would love to unearth their secrets; one who now has possession of a valuable hostage.
But how did Briallyn get Eris to the continent when he’d been hunting in Autumn?
Eris’s soldiers were fae, yes, but he had told Cassian that no one in this unit could winnow.
The queens could only winnow when they were all together.
Only a high lord would have enough power to winnow an entire group from Prythian to the Continent.
A high lord or, Azriel realizes with a sickening certainty, Koschei.
He’s still processing these conclusions as he bids the shadows to take him to the river house.
— — — continue reading on ao3.
tagging: @iftheshoef1tz @ablogofsapphicpanic @damedechance @moonpatroclus @panicatthenightcourt @wilde-knight @areyoudreaminof @born-to-riot @queercontrarian @octobers-veryown @foundress0fnothing @krem-does-stuff @melonsfantasyworld @lady-riel @asnowfern @catboyjamesbond @secret-third-thing @valkyrieassassin @brokeneveningstars @xtaketwox @itsthedoodle @fieldofdaisiies @bubybubsters @nestas-workwife @thelovelymadone @aktrain
if you want to be added to or removed from my Azris taglist just let me know :)
#acotar gift exchange#azris#azris fanfiction#azriel x eris#eris x azriel#acosf#a court of silver flames#azriel#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#eris vanserra#eris acotar#eris acosf#acotar#acotar fanfiction
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A rather rambling, personal update post below the cut:
TL;DR — I’m still kicking, and on the longish road to getting healthy. I miss and appreciate all of you <3
I’m slowly (finally) making some progress on getting healthy! At last I was able to see a specialist who could diagnose the problem, and once I get a CT (after Christmas because nothing can happen too quickly, of course) then we’ll know which surgery I’ll need to fix my sinuses :)
There will be more waiting after the decision before I can actually have the surgery and then more waiting as I recover from it. But the point is that in a few months, if everything goes well, I’ll be able to breathe & sleep like a typical person again and I’m really looking forward to that.
Having every single day feel like a slog to get through got old months ago. I miss you all very much and I miss writing more frequently, I miss chatting with y’all and the typical shenanigans.
Even though I haven’t been around much besides occasionally lurking, I want you all to know that you’ve made this time easier for me by being something I can look forward to. Your kindness and checking in and overall support is something I cherish and am endlessly grateful for 💕
I hope you are all able to enjoy your time with friends and family and take some rest for yourself in the next few weeks!
#personal post#life update#you will be getting a fic for Christmas dw#and I hope you’ll all enjoy it#it’s an idea I’ve had for a long time and I’m glad to see it realized :)
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Elain x Lucien ✨
The sun was setting and the amber light cast into her room, igniting Lucien’s skin with a glowing, golden incandescence. His hair, curling loosely around his shoulders, shone like liquid flame.
The heavens opened and shone down on me the day the radiant, uniquely talented @witch-and-her-witcher came into my life. For reasons unbeknownst to me, she generously gifted me this beautiful commission.
Artwork by b_astora
#I’m obsessed with everything about this!!!!!#we have all been blessed today 💕#Elain in green is one of my favorite things#elucien fanart
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Hellooo!!! First of all I'm a huge fan of literally your entire blog, like all your fics are perfection (I've read What Lies Inside from start to finish almost ten times, no exaggeration)
That said, I have just started a blog of my own here and I am confused about one thing. If you get requests for your fic that you aren't comfortable writing or if you just don't like the idea, how do you go about saying no to the Anon or request? Cuz on one hand I'm glad I'm getting requests even tho I just started my blog, but if I actually don't like an idea, I don't think I should force myself to write it... How should one go about that in a way that isn't rude?
Hi anon! It makes my heart happy to hear that you enjoy the manifestation of my delusions <3 (and welcome to Tumblr btw!)
You are completely right that you shouldn't force yourself to write anything. Saying no to an anon or a request is not rude. I've been in that situation several times myself and know that it might feel that way, but it isn't, not at all. Even if you were to straight up say "no"--you have no obligation to write anything for anyone. Your blog is your space to express your creativity.
Now, if you're like me, and you have trouble saying "no" point blank there are a lot of ways to go about it. If it's more comfortable for you, you can always say something along the lines of "thanks for the request, but it's not sparking any ideas for me." You could also add a line to your bio/pinned post saying that you're very happy to take requests, but you won't write anything you don't vibe with just to have that boundary set preemptively.
#my asks#I hope these suggestions help#you should always write whatever the vibes are telling you to#that's my rule of thumb#If someone gets upset that you won't write their request#that's on them and their misplaced entitlement#fanfiction is free#your writing is a gift
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Thank you for the incredibly kind anons yesterday <3 I will be selfishly holding on to them to look back on when I need a little extra encouragement :)
#I take my serotonin wherever I can find it#it’s been so refreshing the recent few times I’ve come tumblr#and see such kindness and positivity in this fandom 💕
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