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writingsbychlo · 1 year

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UNDER THE MISTLETOE (day two)

summary; you and azriel spend the day shopping at the christmas markets. word count; 10,376 notes; vague mentions of childhood trauma/abuse, so be ready for that. other than that, it’s just adorable.

As soon as you stepped out of the carriage, your senses were assaulted on every front. Even Azriel let out a slow breath as he stepped down beside you at the sudden overwhelm of it all, and you could only imagine the flurry of information his shadows must be telling him right now, trying to piece together frantic whispers. There was the screaming of happy children, the chatter of couples and groups wandering by, the yells of vendors trying to bring attention to their stalls, and everything else in between. The smell of sweet spices and fried foods and baked goods wafted across the air, and there was a flurry of every possible colour imaginable and people rushed around, bustling with arms full of bags and gifts.

The Christmas markets.

Or, at least, that's what you had been told they were on the way over. Viv had been all but bouncing in her seat, the second she’d been able to usher the two of you out of the breakfast hall, into your coats and scarves, and towards the carriages, she had done. You weren’t actually sure you’d ever seen the Lady so excited. Kallias seemed utterly at ease with it, but you supposed he must’ve watched his wife get this excited every year, if the adoring smile on his face as he watched her was anything to judge by.

Beside you, one of the reindeer huffed, dragging a foot through the snow beside itself, and it provided a welcome break in the trance the busy markets seemed to have put you under. Kallias stood on the other side, talking to the carriage rider and arranging the day, while Vivianne had already been swept up by the public, talking to every vendor she could see before your group had even moved beyond the gates into the throng.

You raised a hand, slowly lowering it, cautious not to startle the animal, and rested your gloved hand upon its fur very gently. It did not cower or startle, its eye moving to look at you for a moment, assess you, before blinking slowly and allowing you to proceed with petting it. You’d heard of these animals in this court, of course, even seen them from afar, but never had you had such a chance to admire one up close before. It was beautiful, soft brown fur that tapered away into white around its neck, large antlers that stood tall above its head, a single royal blue ribbon tied loosely to one to promote its rank within the court. Tall and strong and proud, and as you reached up to scratch loosely behind its ear, it let out a soft grunt, flexing its ears happily to stretch the space.

Pulling back only long enough to loosen your other glove, you reached back, continuing to scratch happily along its head. “You like that, huh?”

“Are you talking to the reindeer?” You’d almost forgotten Azriel was lingering just behind you, stepping up to fill your peripherals as he faced you, brows raised, and you shrugged, continuing your petting and scratching of the animal before you.

“I am. I can’t help it. She’s such a good girl, aren’t you?” Your voice cooed toward the end, you weren’t sure where that instinct had come from, but it just felt natural. Azriel’s brows almost reached his hairline, before he bent at the waist, dipping down to peer underneath the shaggy belly of the creature, and he was smirking when he stood back to full height.

“That’s definitely a male.” Your hand paused, looking into the eyes of the creature, before sighing.

“I am so sorry he just violated you like that.”

“I did no such thing! If it’s going to be naked, people are going to look!” His jaw dropped at your accusation, and you grinned, hiding the expression from him as you faced the animal fully.

“It has a fur coat on.”

“It has fur. That’s like body hair for us. If I walked around completely naked, you wouldn't call my chest hair a jumper, would you?” His hands were in his pockets to keep warm, but that didn’t stop him from gesturing animatedly with his elbows instead. The image of Azriel completely nude flashed through your mind, the same hairy chest you knew well from all the distracting training sessions in the summer when he’d strip down to now upper layers, and it took a minute to clear your head enough to form a response.

“That depends, how hairy are you?” You bit back, and he sneered emptily freeing one hand to pat at his plaid-covered chest.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Not if it’s jumper levels of hair, I wouldn't.” You shuddered for emphasis, and he rolled his eyes, the spite completely ruined by the grin he wore at the ribbing. You took the opportunity to move away from the topic of his naked body, snatching at straws, and grabbing his free wrist before he hid it in his pocket again. “Here, pet it.”

“I don’t want t-” He stopped as his hands touched the beast, warmth seeping out of it and into his palm, and as he stared at it, he swallowed thickly. After a second of rigid tension, he smoothed his hand slowly along its coat until it fell away, before lifting his hand and repeating the action awkwardly, slowly loosening up with every touch. “I kind of expected it to pull away.”

“Take your glove off and feel it.” He hesitated at that, before doing as told, tugging one leather glove off of his hand, flexing scarred fingers in the cold air, and placing them back on the animal. This time, he scratched lightly in its fur, something akin to awe taking over his face as the animal chuffed with pleasure, leaning a little further into Azriel’s touch.

As he continued, slowly expanding out from the small patch of fur he was working on, his mask melted away more and more. A breathy laugh left his lips, and it brought a smile to your face to see him enjoying himself so much. While he worked, his shadows darted out, playing in the jingle bells that lined the reins, and creating soft tinkling music to accompany the moment.

“Here,” Placing your free hand over the top of his, you guided it up, showing him just where to scratch behind the animal's ears. The heat of his hand soaked into your palm as you felt it more underneath yours, rubbing lightly in just the right spots until the animal's eyes closed happily, its head tilting up more into your hands. Pulling back, you let Az take over, and he gave a breathy laugh at the sight before him.

“They’re remarkable, aren’t they?” Kallias stepped around the edge of the carriage and into view, and Azriel stiffened almost comically, hand going still atop the animal's head, and Kallias merely pat the animal's hind firmly as he stepped closer. Reaching into his pockets, he produced a bag of chopped-up carrot pieces in large chunks. Opening it up, he pulled two out, placing one in the palm of your hand, and holding the other out for Azriel. He was hesitant, hand slipping down from the reindeer’s head in a fist, and opening slowly to accept the piece of carrot. “Just hold your hand out, with the carrot in the centre of your palm, under its nose.”

You rounded to the second reindeer, the one you had unfortunately neglected, giving it some good rubs and pats before doing as Kal advised. Holding out your hand, palm up, Azriel watched carefully as the paler of the two dipped to sniff your hand, before its mouth opened and it was sucking up the treat from your hold. The sound you made was out of your control, something between a giggle and a squeal, shock and astonishment spurring it on as it took the treat, crunching happily as you stared in shock.

“Az, you have to do that!”

He looked back to the treat in his hand, and then at the animal before himself. Holding it out, he copied your movements, as the reindeer dipped its head, sniffling for a second, and Azriel gasped as it ate the food straight from his hand. As soon as it was gone, he was rubbing its nose, a smile on his face as he stared at it. “Good boy.”

“Are you talking to the reindeer?” You mocked, sidling up on his left and he shook his head.

“Actually, I was talking to you.”

“You’re so rude.” You scoffed, elbowing him in the ribs as you pulled your glove back on, and his laughter was mixed with a grunt. “So, Kal, what’s the plan for today?”

“The plan is to have fun!” Viv seemed to appear out of thin air, startling all three of you, and she looped her arm through her mate’s as she stared, flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. “We have so much planned for you both for this trip. We want you to get the absolute most out of this vacation, so we chose all the plans that we think make up the full ‘Christmas’ experience here. You’re going to be fully immersed in it, so-”

“We also know that this is your vacation, and may want to relax some days, so we planned you plenty of downtime and alone time too.” With the gentle prompting, Vivianne shot a look to her partner, who only rose his brows, and she sighed. “Didn’t we, love?”

“Yes, yes, that too.” She waved her hand, excitement only dulled for a split second. “Today is the Christmas markets and festival. It’s one of my favourite things every year, I just know you’ll both love it too. Then tomorrow, we can-”

Kallias patted Vivianne’s hand where it sat on his arm, and she cut herself off, chuckling softly. “You’ll both have full access to the carriages, anytime you’d like to go out, feel free to do so. Just make sure to let someone know, we can get surprise storms and blizzards around here at this time of year, we don’t want you to get trapped out in one.”

“Got it.” You mumbled, recounting the information in your head, and reaching out to place a hand on Azriel’s arm comfortingly.

“We’ll let you two wander alone, and we can meet up afterwards. Vivianne and I have some last-minute gift shopping to do.” He glanced up at the tall clock tower not far from where the carriage currently lay. “We’ll meet back here at the clock tower in five hours, or if you get bored before then, just take the carriage back to the palace, and we’ll meet you there for dinner.”

“Clock tower, five hours, back here.” You nodded, and Kal merely dipped his head in agreement, before Vivianne’s restless excitement won out, and he was letting his wife tug him away towards the gates as she began to list off everyone they still needed to buy gifts for. Letting out a slow sigh, you turned to Azriel, “So, you ready to do this?”

“We have a mission.” His face was very serious, and for a second, you wondered if Rhysand had broken his pledge not to contact either of you, if there had been an emergency and you needed to go home. He reached out, one hand clutching yours tightly, and your heart jumped into your throat. “It’s very, very important. We cannot fail.”

“Oh, Gods, what happened? Is it Cass, is-”

“We have to find the ugliest, itchiest jumper we can find, and have Rhysand’s name sewn into it.” You stared at him, gaping for a second, before using your free hand to swat angrily at his chest until he was backing away and laughing.

“Don’t do that! I thought somebody died, you scared the hell out of me!”

“You should have seen your face!” He squeezed at your other hand, holding it tightly and using it to spin your body around, stopping the attack as he held your back to his front, connected hands resting around your body, and you lifted a foot, stopping down on his toes. He cried out, still laughing as he shook his foot at the ankle, and as the panic wore off, you found yourself laughing too.

“You’re such a jerk!”

“A funny jerk.”

“That’s subjective.” You scoffed, letting him unwind you now that he thought he wouldn't be hit again, and your eyes narrowed on him. After a moment, the soft smile he was giving you own you over, your shoulders slouching back down. “Okay, fine. I agree, Rhys deserved payback. It’s only fair.”

“We have five hours to complete our mission, do you accept?” He brought back the serious face, a twinkle in his eye you’d missed the first time clueing you in on the joke now, and you nodded sternly.

“I do, sir.”

“Then onwards we go!” With his hand still holding yours, he tugged you forward, and through the busy gates of the Christmas markets.

In every single direction there was life, there was action and movement, and you were utterly lost on where to go first. Some stalls had food, some had drinks, some were selling homemade trinkets while others were wrapping presents or pedalling gift baskets. Individual vendors walked around with popcorn carts or selling cotton candy, and it was nothing short of chaos.

“Your mission, where to first?” He scowled at you for putting the responsibility on him, glancing around between the rushing bodies for anything he could see.

“Let’s start on the left and work our way around, we can come back and go the other way if we run out of stalls.” It was the best idea yet, and so you followed alongside him, weaving between the masses until you were presented with your first stall. A smalls hack with an awning, and laid out in rows and rows upon the tables were various kinds of jewellery, all clearly handmade, engraved metals and some with stones; rings and bracelets and necklaces, and they were beautiful. As though he could sense your excitement, Azriel’s thumb rubbed gently along your own where your hands were clasped, before picking up one of the small wooden baskets on the side and holding it out.

The first item you picked up was a necklace, a pretty red gem that looked hand-carved swinging on a silver chain, bracketed carefully in by metal clamps on either side. “You think Amren would like this?”

“Well, it’s shiny, red, and expensive-looking. I think she’d love it.”

You snorted. There was no denying that. You placed it into the basket Azriel held carefully. “There’s a matching earring and bracelet, if you’d like?” The vendor was obviously thrilled at the potential to upsell, directing your gaze over to the matching items. Dark red stones fell in groups of three to dangle from each ear, as well as a set of two cuffs, each tight silver with a gem sitting in the centre, surrounded by delicately twisting brackets to decorate it. “I can give you the earrings at half-price if you want the full set.”

“Well, how could I refuse that offer?” The vendor beamed, dashing away to the back of the hut quickly to collect gift boxes and wrapping to set them up in, and Azriel scoffed into your ear.

“You just got tricked into buying all of them. You wouldn't even have bought the other two pieces if she hadn't said that.”

“I don’t care, I’m feeling festive.” He only grinned at your chastising, shaking his head and handing the basket over to the woman when she returned. Moments later, she was packing three boxes neatly into a paper bag and you pulled back to retrieve your wallet from your pocket. Handing over a note, she thanked you and wished you good things, before she passed the bag back in return. Azriel took it, his hand lacing back into your own as soon as you’d put your wallet away, tugging you away to the next stall. “You really didn’t like anything she was selling?”

“We have about a thousand more stalls to look at, I’m sure I’ll find something at one of those, that was just the first one.”

“Well, can I have my bag?” You reached for it, fingers wiggling, and he pulled it further away.

“No. What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you carry your own bags, m’lady?” Your cheeks warmed at the cheeky look he cast your way.

“Oh, so you’re a gentleman now? I thought you were a hairy man-beast and a warrior who likes to hand me my ass and throw me around the training ring any chance he gets?”

“I can be a lot of things for you, which would you like me to be?” His gaze was utterly piercing as he looked at you, and you swallowed thickly before giving a response.

“Gentleman is good for today. It’s too cold for you to strip down to your natural sweater, I’d worry for your health.” He laughed, deep and rumbling, and it settled your racing heart, his calmness bringing you some peace, too. “Plus, if you threw me around here, I think we might break some stuff.”

“Promises, promises.” He tutted, and something sparked in his eyes, unfamiliar and dark and tempting, your breath hitching at it. He held your eye, only for a second longer, before clearing his throat. “How about that one?”

He pointed over your shoulder, and you twisted, looking at it. Behind the counter was an elderly man, many jumpers of fine fabrics laid out across it, all with beautiful designs, and you knew you’d found your target. Azriel was wearing the same thoroughly wicked grin as you were as you approached the vendor. He greeted the pair of you with a warm smile, waving his hands to the ones laid out to tempt-in customers.

“What is the itchiest fabric you have?” Azriel burst, and the man's brows furrowed a little. “Do you have anything that is so supremely uncomfortable, so itchy, you feel like every nerve on your body is screaming?”

“And anything that catches lint. Or just bobbles, instantly.” Azriel beamed at the addition, nodding his head, before turning back to look at the older man expectantly.

He stared at you both for a second, before an even wider smile broke out. “You know, in my almost 2000 years, I have seen the rise and fall of a lot of things, but practical jokes, they never go out of style.” He wobbled his way to the back, leaving the both of you to stare in awe after him as he went, before returning with a box. Opening it up, he began unloading several of arguably the worst, most unattractive sweaters you had ever seen. They made your and Azriel’s matching ones look designer, like something Mor herself would wear. “These are my testers. I use bad, cheap fabrics to simply work out patterns and designs. They’re horribly itchy, there are a few loose threads, and they’re all made up of different colours and patterns.”

Shaking one out, your jaw dropped, Azriel matched, and you knew you’d found the perfect one. It was a kaleidoscope of colours, mostly reds and greens, with a few specks of purple and blue in random stitches and lines to hold it together. The neckline was too wide, one sleeve seemed to puff out at the arms and then cuff at the wrists tightly, while the other was loose and flappy and wider towards the bottom than the top. It had several mismatching snowflakes in varying colours, a glittery snowman outline on the back, and a random tassel attached near the right shoulder.

“It’s hideous. And terribly itchy.”

“It’s… the most perfect gift we will ever have given him.” Az breathed, and you muffled your laughter by pressing your face into his arm, his whole body practically trembling with anticipation. “How much to have a name sewn into the back? Can you do that?”

“For you both?” His gaze washed over the two of you, as you twisted your head, cheek resting on Azriel’s arm. “Consider it on the house.”

“Not at all, we’ll pay. Whatever the price of the sweater is, we’ll double it. Matter of fact, we’ll take more.” His gaze scanned over the booth, at all the nice sweaters, and he peeled off one glove to run over the smooth cashmere of the others. “I’m thinking one of these for everyone else.”

“You’re an evil genius.” You muttered, stepping away from Azriel to begin observing the rest. The man behind the counter only chuckled.

“You two remind me of me and my wife in our younger days. She was quite the jokester herself.” It seemed he was talking more to himself, a twinge of sadness in his voice that made your heart clench painfully for him despite the flush his words gave you, but he seemed to perk right back up. “Our kids remind me of her every day, she would have loved our grandkids. Now, what name am I stitching into the back?”

“Rhysand.”

The man froze at your word, his eyes widening a little as he took you in, then Azriel, gaze moving over the wings behind him in shock, as though he’d only just noticed them. “Rhysand, the-”

“Yes, that one.” He swallowed, and nodded, and you wondered if perhaps he would back out now, knowing that the reputation Rhysand had built for so long still occasionally followed him around, especially in older fae such as the man before you. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “I expect to see him in this the next High Lord’s festival.”

“Oh, you bet.” The tension snapped, and he gave you both a time to return, promising it would be done by then. You wandered along, skipping between stalls and sellers, picking up gifts for your friends and family along the way. Azriel even found a matching scarf and glove set for his mother, tucking them away delicately into a bag, pleased to have found something she could actually make use of.

You split, giving him time to fuss over which one to get her privately, while you inspected the other stalls of the area. Many things were similar to that of the markets in Velaris, although these were infinitely bigger. Where your home city had three or four roads filled with markets for Solstice or Starfall, these seemed to go on endlessly, forever, and you weren’t sure you’d ever reached the end of them. There were some thighs, though, that were exclusive to the Winter Court, and you knew you’d found the gift for your best friend as soon as your sights lay on them.

Sets of fur-lines gloves laid out, as well as coats and boot liners, hats and scarves, everything you could need in the cold. As soon as you picked one up to inspect, the slight jolt of magic in the fabric tickled your fingertips. The female perched on a stool, book in hand, chuckled at you. Clearly, she could tell you weren’t from around here. “They’re all enchanted, to create the optimal warmth as soon as you put them on.”

“They’re exactly what he needs.” You mumbled, scanning over them until you found a leather pair. With only a thin layer of wool inside, he’d still have all the movement he needed, but now, his hands would be warm while he worked. You selected two, a black pair and a brown pair, as well as several pairs of boot liners.

She’d only just finished bagging them up when you felt a shadow tugging on your wrist urgently, and you accepted, paying her and letting it guide you back to where Azriel waited.

“You were gone a while.”

“I was just checking out some stalls.” You rattled the other bags in your hands, and he held his hand out expectantly for them, to add to the growing collection in his hands. You gave them up, albeit reluctantly and he balanced all the purchases between two hands, before pointedly offering his arm for you to loop your own through. “You buy anything interesting?”

“Just a few little things. Did you?” His answer was vague, and you gave him an equally vague response, to which he only hummed. “How do you feel about freshly fried doughnuts?”

“You know that I love them.” He did know that, and the look on his face suggested he was messing with you. Tipping his head just off to the side, your eyes closed in on a stall making them from scratch for every order. “How did I miss that?”

“You were busy racing off to look at the fresh flowers, but I saw it when getting something else. You want some?”

“Always.”

And he let you pull him along, careful not to trip on the mushy snow beneath your boots, until you were joining the queue. A few minutes later, and a very small sum of money, you were holding a hot paper bag of freshly cooked sugar doughnuts in one hand, tugging a piece off with the other and popping it into your mouth.

“Holy hell, that is amazing.” The words were a groan, and you tugged off another piece, popping it between your lips and licking the sugar away, as Azriel simply smiled.

“Let me try some.” You held the bag out in his direction, and he shrugged, lifting up the bags in his hands to show you. “Oh, right..”

Trying not to let the colour on your cheeks show, you ripped off a piece, holding it up to his mouth. It was hard, though, when his eyes held yours the whole time, lips brushing your skin as he took the pastry from your fingertips, pulling back barely a few inches, before letting out a deep and breathy moan. “Damn, that is good.”

“I told you.”

“Give me some more.” You did as instructed, if only because it was getting harder not to let your voice crack with the way he looked at you as you fed him another piece, and another. Luckily for your sanity, distraction came in the form of a loud wail, a small child nearby screaming at the top of his lungs as his mother put back a toy on a stand, tugging him along and away from the stall as he already held an almost identical one in the other arm. “To think, that’ll be Rhys and Feyre very soon.”

“No way, Nyx is so good, he would never be like that!”

“Nyx is barely a year old. Haven’t you heard the phrase ‘terrible twos’?” He teased, and you began your slow walk back toward the stand to collect your gift for Rhys, the final one you’d need.

“I’ve heard the ‘terrible two hundreds’, and you and the other bats certainly lived up to that.” You smirked, and Azriel took on a far-off look in his eyes as he remembered it, all the nonsense that they’d gotten up to. As you walked along peacefully, your gaze locked in on another food stall, this one with savoury goods instead of sweet, and the smells coming out of it made your stomach rumble. “Want to get some food there, too?”

“Oh, I was so hoping you’d ask.” There was a relieved note to Azriel’s voice that made you giggle, cut off with a squeal as he twisted your body jerkily where you held onto his arm to redirect you both to it.

It had fries and balls of dough stuffed with garlic and cheese, and you got a portion of each one, watching it all be served up until it was handed over to you in cardboard trays. Luckily for you, it also came with a fork.

You shared it between you both as you walked, lifting food up to Azriel’s mouth between your own bites, sharing it all out until you were satisfied and full, disposing of the wrapping in the nearest bin as he sighed happily. “I think we may just have to move here permanently. The food here is incredible.”

“You’d give up everything at home for some dough balls?”

“Would you come with me?”

“For those doughnuts, I would.” The memory of them would forever stick with you, giving you every reason to come back. By the time you reached the stall again, there was a box sitting out on top, wrapped up to look beautiful with ribbons and a label, entirely misleading for the assault that lay inside. You purchased it, as well as one for every other member of the circle, and the man thanked you both profusely as he begged them all up.

By the time he was finished, even with the size of Azriel’s hands, he was running out of room to hold anything.

“You want to go back to the carriage and drop off all these bags?” He glanced up to the clock on the tower not too far from you both, noting that there was still just over an hour until you were due to meet back up. He conceded, head dipping in a nod, and the two of you set off back to it.

The reindeer were now sitting happily in the snow, as though it were blankets and cushions, unbothered by the chill. Unloading the bags into the back compartment, Azriel flexed his arms happily and shook them out as soon as the last one was put down. “That’s so much better.”

“You could have just let me carry some.”

“I could also just let Cassian actually stab me one day during training, but I’m not going to.”

“You’re so dramatic.” The insult was brushed off by his smile as he took your hand in his once again, flexing his fingers out from where they’d been clutching bag handles.

“You love my drama.” He looked around, shadows floating lazily in swirls in the snow, a few darting back out to play with the jingle bells on the reins, a couple dancing around your connected hands. It felt preternaturally right, and comfortable, as they always had. “Want to go check out the festival?”

“Do you?”

He shrugged, glancing around. “I’ve definitely had enough of shopping, but I think we should at least go spend a few minutes at the festival, just to say we did. Who knows when or if we’ll get a chance to come back? It would suck if we missed out on something good.”

A certain warmth jolted right through you at his words, and you turned, wrapping your free arm around his waist, pressing your face into his jumper as you squeezed him. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around your shoulders just as tightly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head, as he always did when he hugged you.

“Not that I don’t love your hugs, but what’s this for?”

“Just for.. being here, I guess. Thank you.” He hummed, chin sitting atop your head as you let yourself remain in the embrace for a few more minutes, before pulling back. That smile, your smile, was on his face when you looked up at him. “So, festival?”

“Yes. Festival.” He squeezed your hand once, twice, before the two of you were immersing yourselves back in the chaos. Instead of wandering aimlessly, though, you followed the neatly carved wooden signs that were guiding the way, between help stalls and toilets until finally, you were clearing the bustling crowds and stepping into the ‘festival’. Really, it was just a quieter gathering, with activities rather than stalls, though food places sat open around, tables to sit at, a play area for kids and donation stands, all centred in a circle around a large tree. It was huge, one of the biggest you’d ever see, towering so high you had to tilt your neck to look up to the top. It was far more organised than your and Azriel’s, a colour scheme of ornaments circling around it in perfect distribution, with a star sitting right on the top. “Woah, that’s a lot bigger than ours.”

“That might be the biggest pine tree I have ever seen.” You confessed.

“How did they get it here?”

“Where did they get it from? There was none like that in the forest we went to.”

“If I had to chop that down, I think I would need a whole day.” He muttered, eyes moving to the base, but you couldn't see how it was assembled or standing for the tables around it, but it seemed sturdy enough. “Let’s get some drinks.”

“You think they have mulled wine? The mulled wine here is like nothing I have ever tasted.”

He only looked around, head tipping a little when one shadow coiled around his ear for a split second, before nodding. “On the other side, there’s a bar with mulled cider. We just can’t see past the behemoth that is the tree.”

“I’ll get drinks if you find a table?”

“I’ll get the drinks, you go sit down somewhere.” As soon as the pair of you had rounded the tree, you beelined for an empty table. A small picnic bench near the back, hidden a little more from the noise and activity, and one shadow remained looping around your arm as you got comfy, signalling to Azriel exactly where you were.

He arrived a few moments after it disappeared, guiding him to you, and in his hands was a tray. Two tall glasses, the dark red liquid inside steaming, as a cinnamon stick bobbed on the surface of each one. Once he had placed it down, you could see what else was on the tray, your brows rising.

“Pizza?”

“I’m a big boy, I need to eat.” He passed one plate to you, and the other to himself, tearing off a slice instantly and tugging until the cheese snapped, before lifting it to his mouth to take a bite. “I also got ‘pretzels’, because they sounded interesting.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. It looks kind of soft, like a cake maybe?” You poked at one, humming quietly, before taking a sip of your mulled wine.

You settled in to simply observe, watching the kids run around between the tables, watching volunteers working to take donations and advice, watching families on days out wander along. There was even a petting zoo, for reindeer just like the ones on the carriage, eating carrots and leafy greens out of hands and barrels as they lunged in the snow.

“I saw a table making tree ornaments on my way.” Azriel had finished it pizza already, and was waiting patiently for you to finish yours before trying the ‘pretzel’. He was bursting with anticipation, you could feel it rolling off of him in waves. You turned, offering a slice of your food to him, which he happily accepted, as you considered his words. “We could make one.”

“That sounds fun. What do we put on it?”

“I don’t know, we can decide when we get there.”

As soon as your pizza was gone, Azriel was eagerly pushing your pretzel toward you, picking up his own and wobbling it a little to watch it flop. You took the first bite, chewing for a moment as he copied, face scrunching up a little a the salty flavour that filled his mouth. Clearly, with its cake-like appearance, he’d been expecting something sweet.

“It’s not cake.” He put it down, throwing the rest of it onto the pile with the used pizza trays and empty glasses, and you chuckled at his disappointment.

“It’s more like a chewy bread.”

“It’s disappointing.” He scowled at it as it lay discarded.

“I don’t think it’s so bad.”

He didn’t respond, grabbing all the used things and stepping away from the bench to clear it all away. By the time he returned, you’d finished, feeling so full of food and treats that you weren’t sure you ever wanted to move again, but Azriel offered you his hand, yours slipping into it without thought, and he was pulling you up to your feet.

Just as promised, only a few steps away from where he’d gone to get the drinks and food was a long table laid out near the base of the tree, covered in art projects and supplies, and you circled around towards the only empty end of it to find two seats.

Sitting down, you plucked a spherical one out of the box, while Az rooted through a box of ribbons and strings, settling on a thick twine and cutting a measure off. Settling on the bench beside you, he threaded it through carefully, tying it at the top to create a loop. There was glitter, sequins, coloured pens and paints all over the table, everything being passed between children and adults alike,

“What should we put on it?”

“You should draw Santa’s hat!” A little girl on Azriel’s side burst. She was clutching a red pen in her little hand, the other holding tightly onto a teddy, and Azriel raised his brows a little.

“Who is Santa?” The little girl gasped so dramatically, her eyes went so wide, you’d think Azriel had just stolen the teddy right from her. Then, she giggled, almost hysterically, and she burst into a very very enthusiastic recounting of a ‘Santa Claus. He looked at you helplessly when ten minutes had passed and she had barely paused for breath, only stopping when her mother pulled her away with an apology to wipe her hands free of coloured marker and take her back to their table. “I don’t trust him.” Was the first thing Azriel said.

“Who?”

“This Santa character. He’s suspicious. You mean to tell me that in Winter Court tradition children are taught that once a year a strange man will break into their home, steal their food, and then disappear for a whole year?” He was shaking his head, brows furrowed deeply, and you reached a hand out to smooth it, trying to contain your amusement as your thumb rubbed his face gently. “I want to know where he goes.”

“He’s not real.”

“I don’t care. I want to know!” He reached out, ignoring your laughter as he picked up a tray of glitter-filled bottles.

“Of course you do, Spymaster.”

He placed the tray down before you, and you picked up a blue one as he picked up a gold one. Tipping the glue in was the easy part, twisting it to coat the inside, but as soon as you tried to tip in the glitter, it went everywhere, blue sparkles coating your hands and falling into your lap.

When it was finally complete, somewhat patchy inside but the best it was going to get, he took the glass ball from your hands, picking up a golden pen and turning away from you to write on it.

“You know, he’s almost as bad as ‘Hans Trapp’.”

“Who?”

“Santa.” He said like it was obvious, and you covered your mouth with your hand to hide the smile. He was really stuck on this whole Santa thing.

“We’re still on that?” He only dipped his head, finally deciding what he wanted to write, and bringing the pen to the glass. “Who was ‘Hans Trapp’?”

“He’s an Illyrian mythological being. He would scare children around Solstice time, he dressed as a scarecrow and would beat badly behaved children. I endured many a winter chore or punishment to avoid a visit from ‘Hans Trapp’ before eventually, an older boy told me he wasn’t real.” Azriel never looked up, not until you let out a soft sound, all amusement gone as pure agony for him twisted cold in your gut, gripping at your heart so painfully you rubbed your chest. His eyes softened as he took you in.

“Oh, Azriel..”

“What? No, no I’m not sad. Don’t worry.” He put the glass down, capping the pen and cupping your face lightly in his hands. “Please don’t frown for me on your vacation.”

“It’s our vacation,” He gave a soft smile which you couldn't return, “And I can’t help it if I feel sad every time I hear about your childhood. My heart hurts for little baby Az.”

He let out a weak laugh, shuffling a little closer and running his thumbs over your cheeks. He stared, a look so full of love and gratitude that it made you feel breathless, lungs straining and heart bursting, throat stinging a little as you tried not to tear up. “Yeah, well, little baby Az would have loved little baby you, just like I do now.”

Then he leaned in, his warm lips meeting your cold skin as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, once that felt like it was still burning its imprint there as he pulled back.

“Now, enough of that sadness, we’re on our vacation. What do you say we go hang this on the tree?”

He turned it to face you, and you sniffled a little as you looked at it. ‘(Y/n) and Az, first Winter Court Christmas’. “I love it.”

You both stood, wandering over to the lower branches of the tree, searching for the perfect branch. You found it, sitting just over his head, beyond your reach, but you pointed to it. He hooked it on, checking it was secure, before pulling back so you could both watch it spin and reflect the lights.

The clock chimed as it hit another hour, marking the hour you were supposed to meet back at the tower, and yet as you turned to leave, a crowd was beginning to gather around you both at the base of the tree. You were penned in, facing the tree as the chiming stopped.

As the final ring sounded out, lights at the bottom of the tree began to flicker on, one by one circling up and around in various pretty colours, until it was lit all the way to the top. Just like the one back in your room, all the ornaments because twice as pretty, colourful glitter and glass reflecting designs and sprays of light in every direction, and on an even larger tree, it was all the more breathtaking. Azriel gasped behind you, his astonishment matching your own. As the trail of lights reached the top, the star at the summit illuminated, sparkling with gold and shining out across all of it.

Mumbled chatter and cheers and whispers of awe took up around you at the tree lighting, and you felt like you were in a trance as you stared at it, unable to take your eyes away. Minutes passed as people moved around you, going back to finding their seats, until eventually, it was just you and Azriel remaining to stare.

“C’mon, we gotta’ go back now.” He nudged quietly, a hand on your arm pulling you away slowly, until you could bring yourself to drag your eyes from it, only to talk about it instead. You were still telling him about it when you reached the carriage, Kallias and Vivianne waiting patiently, and your mouth finally closed about the wonder of it all as you approached them both.

“Good day? I see you bought lots of things!” She pointed to the back, where all her bags now lay too, and Kallias looked exhausted as he leaned on the wall.

“Can we go back for dinner now? I’m starving.” He mumbled, and Viv only scoffed at him.

“You ate an hour ago!”

“And now I need to eat again!” He opened the door, waving at the two of you to get inside first, and you patted your stomach, following Viv.

“I truly don’t think I could eat another meal, I’m full. We snacked all the way around.” Azriel looked rather disgruntled at your refusal of food, but only made a vague sound of agreement as he got in, followed by Kal, who was quick to close the door and signal departure. Vivianne must have caught his dissatisfaction, because she snickered.

“We’ll send some food up to your room in a little while if you want to rest when we get back. It can be a very tiring trip out.”

“You can say that again.” Her husband complained, hand over his face as he slouched in the chair in a very undignified way. “I feel like you just made me march from those damn Steppes to the mortal realm.”

He froze then, shifting up in his seat stiffly as he glanced at Azriel, Vivianne’s only lips pressed tightly in a line as she glared at her mate for his discrepancy. Azriel laughed lowly. “In the Illyrian camps, Solstice traditions consist of the males peer-pressuring one another into hiking the three peaks to earn Solstice dinner.”

There was only a second more quiet, before Kallias says; “Why don’t you just fly it?”

“That’s cheating. If you don’t complete the hike, on foot, you carry that shame all the way until the next year. You’d be the last to eat, last to get picked for teams, and you always got the worst chores.” Azriel relaxed back, wings flaring a little, and Viv let loose the breath she’d been holding onto.

“Your camps sound like they suck.”

“Kallias!” She burst, and Azriel only laughed, shocking all three of you at his openness.

“They do.” He confirmed, and a grin signalling the first steps of friendship was shared between the two males, Vivianne staring at you imploringly. “However, I have a question about something I learned about today.’

“Okay?”

“Oh, Gods, please don’t be what I think it is..” You mumbled, both of your hosts glancing at you as Azriel smirked, one hand landing on your knee to squeeze as he prepared his question.

“What is up with this ‘Santa Claus’?”

You stretched your arms above your head as you stood at the palace door, watching all of the bags being carried up the pathway, Kallias and Azriel standing on duty to divide up which bags belonged to whom. As they did, Vivianne was rifling through them, peeking into the tops of each one, before finally letting out a satisfied sound and grabbing a blue paper bag by the handles.

As the job finally came to a close, Azriel began to pick them up, scooping several up into his hands at once as Kallias did the same. The white-haired man disappeared, half of his bags gone with him as he winnowed them to wherever he’d gone, appearing a second later to gather the rest.

“I’m going to take these up, then I’ll come back for you, alright?” The shadows were already bunching around his body, threatening to open up and let him step right through, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple as he passed.

“I’ll walk her up, don’t worry,” Viv smirked, linking her arm through yours and giving you no choice in the matter. Azriel only nodded, disappearing into the darkness with the bags a second later. Turning the both of you around, Viv set a slow pace towards the room, taking you along with her, as the bag hung from her fingers on her other side.

“Azriel is nice.” She offered, and you turned to look at her, trying to work out what she was getting at. “And very handsome.” Ah, that’s where it was going. “He seems to care about you a lot.”

“I care about him too.” You were skilled at navigating conversations, deflections and detours were your specialities, and staying calm under pressure only helped, making you such a good courtier for Rhysand. Sometimes, though, you wished you could do what Azriel did. No staged smiles and polite conversation, just a scowl and some silence until the offender walked away. You weren’t quite scary enough for that.

“You do?”

“Of course I do. I care about my whole family.” She looked dissatisfied with the answer, and you knew what she was digging for. The problem was, you didn’t exactly have an answer. You and Azriel had been dancing this line for years now, decades, and yet nothing ever seemed like it was the right time. Rhys gets stuck Under the Mountain, Rhys is back and utterly broken, Feyre comes along, there’s a war, there are repairs, Nesta needs help, Feyre and Rhys have a baby; a constant stream of unending chaos, the first time you’d been so relaxed this century was on this vacation. “I care about you and Kallias too, you’re my friends. If you ever need anything, or there’s anything you want, you just let me know, alright? We’re real friends, not just political friends.”

Her eyes watered at that, and she nodded. The topic of conversation was effectively changed, and she lifted up the blue bag to you, handing it over. “This is for you, it’s from me and Kal. We thought you might like it.” Putting her hand into the back, she pulled out what could only be described as a hugely oversized sock, fluffy at the top, and your name was sewn into it. “Rhysand had no hand in this one, I promise.”

“It’s a single sock?”

“It's a stocking. You put it on the fireplace, put small gifts in it, that sort of thing. The gifts you don’t put under the tree, go in here. There’s one for Azriel too.” She tucked it back in neatly, and you smiled.

“Thank you, I’ll hang them up as soon as I get in.”

“There’s also a small present from me and Kal in the bottom of the bag, to put in the stockings. But, you can’t open them yet. It’s not time!” You swore not to, nodding sincerely, as the two of you came to a stop outside your bedroom door. She let go of your arm as you opened it, and chose instead to hold your free hand in both of hers. “I wish the both of you nothing but happiness, however you may find it.”

Evidently, that topic had not been forgotten, she was just taking social cues. You swallowed thickly, glancing over to the connecting door which sat barely ajar. “Thank you, Viv.”

“Of course.” You shared a look, a silent conversation in which you knew she meant it, before she was taking her hands back, smoothing down her dress and smiling widely, effectively moving the moment along. “I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast, you know the deal, just ring the bell if you need anything.”

She left, and you stepped inside, putting down the blue gift bag with the others and unlacing your boots. The second they were off, your coat and gloves followed, before padding over to Azriel’s room and knocking on the door lightly.

He mumbled a greeting, and when you pushed the door open, he was hunched over his desk.

“What are you doing?”

“Just taking some notes for Rhys, I didn’t do it yesterday, and we’ve seen and done so much, I want to get it down before I forget it.” He didn’t look up as he spoke, but you could see the speed at which his hand was moving, the shadows swirling frantically on the floor to match his haste, and you just hummed. Closing the door as you stepped back out, you stared at the gift bags all loitering on the couch and the floor beside it.

With a quick ring of the bell and a few requests, you got to work, waiting on your delivery. You spent a while splitting up the bags into ones that were privately Azriel’s, ones that were yours, and ones you’d shared, leaving his pile by his door and gathering your own next to the coffee table. You’d barely gotten all your wrapping supplies laid out when there was a knock at the door, and you were handed several trays and dishes to set down, a trolley left outside the door for you to put them on when you were finished. A pot of tea and two mugs, a plate with a sandwich, and a bowl of winter vegetable soup, which smelt so good your mouth watered. Perhaps you’d have to get another one for yourself.

Pouring a cup of tea into a mug and balancing the food and drink between your arms precariously, you made your way back to Azriel’s room. He was still working just as hard, hunched over the desk and not even his shadows responded when you entered. When you placed the mug down on his desk, however, he glanced up at it, gaze following up to you as you unloaded a soup and a sandwich to follow.

“For me?”

“Duh. You’re working so hard, and I know you were still hungry, so eat up and keep writing.” His throat bobbed, and stared at it all, before picking up the mug first.

“Thank you.”

“Keep going, before you forget it all.” He merely nodded, and you stepped away, closing the door and puffing out a breath at the task ahead of you. There were stacks of presents to be wrapped and labelled, and stockings to fill, apparently, and you wanted to get the gifts you did for Azriel done before he finished his work.

You started with those, sitting down and begging with speedily wrapping up the two sets of gloves, and the boot warmers. Then, you moved on to the other bags, picking through them to find the ones that were for only him, and wrapping them up too, each with a tag on that had his name. By the time you’d finished, he hadn't emerged, and you felt grateful for that, at least.

Several much smaller gifts that weren’t wrapped were sitting around your feet. Another silver ring, a new woodcarving set so he could carve his dagger handles again, and a bunch of candy canes in a ribbon. Locating his stocking from the bag, and the gift that had his name on it from your hosts, you tucked them all in, laying it out before yourself on the table, and laying your own out to join it.

When the door finally opened, you were wrapping Amren’s jewellery set, and his eyes widened marginally at the mess surrounding you, as you took him in. He’d changed into his pyjamas already, a worn t-shirt and baggy plaid pants, bowls stacked up in his arms and hair messy.

“What are we doing?”

“Wrapping up the gifts. Like Solstice, but for Christmas.” You held up a roll of paper you’d found before while he’d been busy, beaming as he wandered across the room to discard of his dishes, as soon as they were gone, his attention was on you. “Look at this wrapping paper I found, it had candy canes on!”

“I love those candy canes.” His wistful sigh made you giggle. “You have enough supplies for me too?”

“I think I have enough supplies to last me until next century.”

“I love a woman who’s prepared.” He grinned, grabbing his own bags from beside the door, and bringing them all over. He collapsed down onto the floor opposite you on the other side of the low table, unpacking things onto the floor out of your view, and began reaching for wrapping paper and scissors.

For almost an hour, the two of you worked, occasionally talking about your purchases, or asking the other to hand something over, until there was nothing but empty bags, pretty wrapped gifts, and a lot of mess. You were drained.

“What’s that?” Following his gaze, you turned to look at the stockings, lighting up a little as you grabbed them.

“They’re stockings! Apparently, you put small gifts in them and hang them on your fireplace.”

Standing, you hung them both up on some of the hooks on the mantle, and they swung for a few seconds, before coming to a stop. “Why is mine heavier than yours?”

“I already put some stuff in it.” You shrugged, and he reached one hand out in a grabby motion.

“Well, give it here, then! Let me see.”

“No! Viv said we can’t open them yet.”

“But they’re going to catch fire just hanging there.” There was a pout on his lips, and you couldn't tell if he truly believed that, or just wanted his presents early.

“They’ll be fine, they’re not going to catch fire.” You moved away, beginning to gather up off-cuts and torn wrapping paper, scooping it up into your arms as he gathered the ribbons and tools. When you turned to toss all the paper into the flames, you found him messing with the stocking again. “Az, they’ll be fine, don’t you worry.”

He turned, hand stuffed into your stocking instead, and the tips of his ears brightened to pink. “They’re for gifts, right? Well, I got you some things from the market, they won’t all fit, but the rest can- what?” He looked like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar, wide eyes and red cheeks as he stuffed little wrapped parcels into your stocking. You could only shake your head and smile, because you had done the same.

Instead, you moved away to pile up all the presents under the tree, and he joined you, neat piles forming with all your friend’s names in bags, and your individual ones distributed along the floor, leaving you both standing with your hands on your hips to stare at it.

“So, when do we open them?”

“I don’t know. Viv just said ‘not yet’.”

“Right. Because that clears it all up.” You rolled your head to the side, grinning at him, and feeling the weight of the day beginning to pull on you. Your shoulders slumped, your body feeling heavy, like after Cassian made everyone do a full day of training because he was in a mood. “You tired?”

“Physically, yes. Mentally, no. I might just get in bed and read for a while.” A humble hush fell between you both, and a fleeting thought crossed your mind. You wanted to chase it away, to rule it out as something that would be crossing a line, but it didn’t feel like it. With the way these days had been going, with how attentive Azriel had been, it felt like the line was blurring. “Do you..”

He waited, eyes staying on you. You couldn't bear the weight of his gaze, and you turned, motioning to the bed. “Do I?”

“Do you want to stay? Read with me for a while, maybe?” The bashful smile on his face put you at ease.

“I was hoping you’d ask me to stay.” He almost whispered it, like he was just as afraid to cross the line as you were. His openness wasn’t something you were so used to, the barriers coming down when you weren’t constantly surrounded by threats, and you were grateful for such a thing. “I’ll just, uh, go and wait in my room until you’re ready, get a book. Just knock when you’re ready.”

With a couple of deep breaths, and a small happy first pump in the air for your bravery, you made your way to the bathroom. Clean teeth, clean face, all your pretty smelling creams and lotions, and your pyjamas, and then you were standing in the middle of your bedroom, once again feeling unsure. You loved spending time with Azriel, you never felt quite as right as the way you fit in his company, and yet he was also your biggest source of anxiety. Your biggest fear, your biggest strength, your best supporter and your biggest weakness.

It was with that thought in mind, the thought that he was always the one to support you, never the one to put you down, that spurred you to the door. Knocking three times, and then backing away slowly, it was as you were lifting the covers of your bed that he stepped back in. He was smiling, and everything felt right once again. Your fears vanished, your nervousness evaporated, and your tension melted.

He held up the book in his hand, waving it lightly as you settled down into the pillows, tucking the blankets around you. His room was dark as he left it, and you switched on the lamp beside your bed, letting him flick out the main light until the room was only lit by a soft, warm glow.

“Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere you like.” His gaze flicked to the side of the bed you didn’t occupy, and you lifted up the covers, rubbing a hand over the mattress. He visibly relaxed, long legs carrying him across the room to the bedside in barely a few steps, and he busied himself with fluffing the pillows up. It reassured you to know that you weren’t the only one feeling nervous as you not only stepped over that line, but leapt head-first in a swan dive over the cliff. “Hurry up, you’re letting all the warmth out.”

He chuckled, standing one of the pillows up to support his back between his wings as he got in, long legs sliding in beside your own. Draping the blankets over his lap and stomach, he tucked himself in, wiggling until he was comfortable, and turning to face you. “This okay?”

“Very.” You picked at a thread on the duvet as he lay his book flat on his lap. “You?”

“Never better.” He mumbled, before opening his book up to read, placing his bookmark down in the small space between you both. He held the book with one hand, the other arm stretching out behind you both, along the back of your pillow. “Is this, uh, I can’t put my arm between us, but-”

You lean your head back, head it on the crook of his shoulder, and the smile he gave you was enough to light up a whole court. Then, his gaze moved back to his book, your attention moved to your own, and despite your racing heart and frantic nerves, it all felt utterly normal.

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel/you #azriel/reader #acotar x you #acotar x reader #acotar/you #acotar/reader #a court of thorns and roses #ACOTAR #azriel

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taff-ebrum · 5 days

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Taff Ebrum - The (almost) 20 year old Kirby OC

You did, in fact, read the title correctly! While Taff's real age may not be twenty, it's been almost twenty years since she was created. She was the first OC I ever created for ANYTHING. Her existence sparked my journey as a storyteller.

Let me start from the beginning.

Taff's creation:

It's December 2006 (I think). A younger me is sitting on the carpeted floor of my living room, it's in the middle of the afternoon, and Mom and I just got back from shopping at Walmart. I had turned on one of the episodes of Kirby: Right Back at Ya! that the DVR had recorded.

The episode playing was Masher 2.0. (which was my introduction to Knuckle Joe) I didn't fully understand what was going on in the episode, so I paid attention to the characters I had attachment to. Tiff and Kirby.

I must have tilted my head a bit, because I heard a light jingle on top of my head. I had deer antlers on, which my Mom had picked up for me at the store. I looked back at the screen.

It was this exact frame that the idea popped into my head. The jingle of the bells stuck with me. Younger me thought back to Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, which had stuck with me. I pictured a small little deer at Tiff's side, maybe helping her bring the tray in.

That's when the idea of Taff was born. A small little pet deer. This was, of course, absolutely not a projection of what pet I may have wanted at the time...

...Okay, well, maybe I did want a pet deer, but that's beside the point.

Younger me lost track of the rest of the episode after that, as I got lost into my own world. I pictured different scenarios where the deer could be interacting with Tiff and the other characters. I played some more of the episodes with this thought in mind.

Then, shortly after, I changed the idea around in my head. What if, instead of a deer character, Tiff had an older sister figure? I adored Meta Knight as a child, so I pictured this older sister fighting the monsters that appeared in Cappytown. That's the idea that stuck.

Early life & concepts

To those who may be on the older side, like me, you may remember an OC named "Petunia Ebrum". That was Taff's original name. At first, she didn't have much of a personality outside of "fight bad guy, love little siblings". But that didn't stop me from asking any fanfic author in the early 2000s to include her in their fics. :'D

No one ever did, if you're wondering!

So I decided to do it myself! I made my own fanfiction.net account and began publishing stories. Most of them stayed in my drafts, but some were lucky enough to make it out into the world. Unfortunately, I don't believe any of these stories still exist, as I deleted my fanfiction.net account after my mother discovered I had one. (I was not supposed to be online, you see.)

Unfortunately, I don't recall much of Petunia's early personality. I think I copied what other people were doing for their OCs personalities and placed that into her. Her personality kind of varied, heavily depended on what kind of story I was writing her for. She wouldn't truly become her own individual until 2011-2012, where I realized vaguely copying other fanfic creators wouldn't cut it.

Oh, and the forms floating beside them... well, I may have taken a bit of inspiration from Sonic the Hedgehog's super forms. I'm willing to elaborate on that further in the future! There are some fun plot elements to it ;D

Enough of the past! Let's talk about the current version of Taff!

Backstory & Lore

Taff was a welcome surprise to Sir Ebrum and Lady Like. Neither of them had moved into Cappytown yet around this time. Thus, the beginning years of Taff's life were relatively normal. She was incredibly outgoing from birth, waving hello to every person she made eye contact with. Since the small ocean village they lived in didn't have a school, Lady Like homeschooled her.

Every day after school was over, Taff would run outside to play games with her friends. They would draw shapes in the sand, play tic-tac-toe, build things out of sand, and splash each other with salt water. Sir Ebrum and Lady Like would watch over the children as they played from their porch.

Taff was the kind of child to make sure everyone could be included in their games. She didn't stand for any kind of bullying and spoke up whenever someone said something out of line. The other children followed her without question and she never took advantage of that.

When Sir Ebrum got his job with King Dedede, Taff was devastated to leave her home and friends behind. No amount of begging on Taff's end could convince her parents to stay in their village. They left. Taff's never heard from any of her childhood friends ever again.

Taff hated King Dedede from her very first interaction with him. While Lady Like and Sir Ebrum dressed to impress and acted the part, Taff refused to respect him. She would not bow to him, she would not call him King Dedede, and, she called him the worst insult she could think of at the time... "smelly".

Being the immature baby King Dedede is, he decided to "show that tiny spoiled brat who's boss". That's when Taff saw her very first monster.

She wanted to leave. She wanted to go home. She wailed and begged Sir Ebrum and Lady Like to move back. But they wouldn't. So long as they were in the castle, they were usually safe. They were safe, but the townspeople of Cappytown were not. Taff would watch in horror as monsters rampaged freely around Cappytown.

Sometimes, they would destroy property. Eat animals. Hurt the villagers. And no one did anything about it. Taff tried yelling at the King, she tried to encourage the townspeople of Cappytown to rebel against King Dedede, she begged her Dad to put a stop to it.

Nothing worked. The King acted on his own and no amount of pleading and sobbing would solve the problem.

They needed a hero.

Taff began to search around the castle for something she could use to fight back. To protect the people she cared about. No one else would do it, so it had to be her. Seeing the helpless state of everybody around her only inspired her to rise to an impossible task. To become Cappytown's savior.

After locating a sword in the Castle's basement, she began to practice with it in secret. Since both of her parents were occupied with meeting the King's every demand, they couldn't keep as close an eye on Taff as they'd like to, which left her with an abundance of free-time on her hands.

She got good. She was far from perfect, but she was good. She'd study at every opportunity, practice into the night, and never let her sword out of her sight. Taff thought out her plan as much as possible. She would practice on some smaller monsters, to learn what techniques worked and what didn't.

Taff was far from a master swordsman. But after a month of doing nothing but training, she decided to take on her first monster.

(...my drawing tablet stopped working after this doodle...)

She didn't come out of the fight unscathed. She got really hurt. Nevertheless, she had completed the task she set out to do. Taff had come out victorious. She had defeated the monster and protected Cappytown.

When Sir Ebrum and Lady Like discovered what Taff was doing, they were fully against it. But Taff wouldn't take their no for an answer. Regardless if they supported her decision or not, she would continue to go out every night to fight the monsters off.

She wasn't perfect. She didn't win every single one of her battles, but with each battle, with each injury, she improved. The King was infuriated. Taff's actions could inspire a rebellion in the cappies and that was not acceptable. But it wasn't like he could get a monster to "clobber" her, she'd become a martyr if he succeeded.

King Dedede presented Taff with a choice. Either she become captain of his royal guard or he'd fire her dad and make sure that her and her families lives are hell, for as long as they live. Mortified, Taff accepted the deal. From then on, Taff's free-time was spent serving and protecting King Dedede.

She was also tasked with protecting Cappytown from any outside threats. Taff would be expected to not only patrol the castle, but patrol the outskirts of Cappytown in search of anything suspicious. Years of this torture went by. Taff bided her time; spending her hours of mind-numbing patrol coming up with the perfect plan - one that could take the King down for good.

When Taff was a teenager, she stumbled upon a light purple star-shaped ship; this was how she met Meta Knight, Sword Knight, and Blade Knight. She did not trust them, particularly after Meta Knight voiced his intentions on serving King Dedede. Meta Knight, Sword, and Blade were new factors she had to account for moving forward. It made doing anything against King Dedede more difficult.

She despised them. Later on, she would come to realize that their goals were aligned. But I'll save the details on how that came to be for now. ;D

King Dedede didn't fully trust Meta Knight at first, hence why he kept Taff as the head of the guard. Taff was grateful for this as well at first; she believed Meta Knight to be unpredictable and wasn't sure what he'd do with King Dedede.

Not too long after Meta Knight appeared, so did Escargoon, the Waddle Dees, and Waddle Doo. While that meant these new people would take on the responsibilities she previously carried, which allowed her more free-time, this also meant more people would be keeping a close watch on the King.

Doing anything she had planned was now impossible with all the Waddle Dees. Taff had run out of time.

Then Lady Like announced to Taff that she was pregnant again.

Taff was horrified. After all, Cappytown was not a safe environment to raise children in. She was terrified her younger sibling would grow up and force themselves into similar roles that she had. She desperately wanted them to grow up with a normal childhood, to feel safe, to be able to play outside without looking over their shoulder.

She attempted once more to sway her parents into moving elsewhere. Both of them had grown comfortable with their luxurious lifestyles, and believed the King would not bring harm to their children. Taff came to the realization that there was nothing she could do to stop this and broke.

She could do nothing... except take out the poison at its source. Taff would be sacrificing her own life to protect her sibling. She would take out the King and go on the run. But before she could put her plan into action, King Dedede brought Taff into his throne room and told her that Meta Knight would be replacing her as the captain - but she could still act as a guard.

Taff's plan relied on her authority as a captain, so this ultimately foiled it, and ripped away her last shred of hope. This would be around the time Taff realizes her goals align with Meta Knight's.

Years go by: Tiff is born, Fololo and Falala are adopted into the family, then Tuff is born. Monster attacks become warnings instead of disciplinary measures against Cappytown. They rarely damage property or cause injury. They merely serve to scare the villagers of Cappytown into compliance.

Taff, while working with Meta Knight, does her best to make sure Tiff and Tuff are kept out of harms way. While she's expected to keep a low-profile and obey the King's commands as to not upset him, she WILL attack a monster if that monster is directly placing her siblings in danger.

Younger Tiff and Tuff got along fine with Taff. As the two grew older, Tiff realized how messed up their situation was, and came to resent Taff for obediently going along with the King.

Which would roughly bring us to the beginning of Kirby: Right Back at Ya!

Personality:

Around strangers, Taff can come across as distant and stand-offish. She's purposefully a bit rude to people she meets, although her behavior is subject to change depending on how the stranger treats her. If she deems them to be a threat, she will close herself off entirely. But if the stranger is in need of her help, she'll be willing to show a more gentle side to them.

She does not trust easily and has high walls that surround her heart. Because of this, she is almost impossible to befriend. Even when someone has proven themselves trustworthy, Taff values consistency and will judge the individual for repeated actions.

Taff is a very good judge of character and can often tell when someone carries bad intentions.

Around people she deeply cares about, Taff is a lot more laid-back. Her old outgoing nature truly shines through when she's speaking to them. She enjoys joking around with Sword, Blade, and other friends she has in the castle. She's often the one to carry conversations. Taff goes out of her way to stay on top of her family and friends lives.

She is intensely protective of Tiff and Tuff, so much so to the point where she gets angry at Lady Like and Sir Ebrum for not keeping a better eye on them. She adamantly refuses to let either of them help out in bigger fights and becomes infuriated if others attempt to involve them.

If either of her siblings need her for anything, Taff will be there for them in an instant. Taff is decent at giving advice, but difficult at explaining it in a way that consistently makes sense to Tiff and Tuff. She also enjoys assisting them with their homework; this often just leads to her doing it for them, which she's aware of but doesn't mind.

Taff has lost a lot of her sense of self due to her childhood. She is incapable of picturing a world of peace anymore. Without her title as a protector of Cappytown, she is unsure of who she is. Taff's made peace with the idea of dying for Cappytown and fully believes that she will likely die in battle someday.

Conclusion

There is so, so much I excluded from this post. Almost two decades of brainstorming will do that to a character. I'm willing to reveal more lore for Taff (example: how she changes some of the episodes of Kirby: Right Back at Ya) the further she gets in the tournament.

I'm really excited to have this opportunity to share Taff with the world!!! I don't talk much about my OCs with anyone, so I'm super happy I discovered this tournament. Thank you to the hosts for the opportunity and good luck to all!

If you, the reader, have any questions about Taff, please feel free to send asks to this blog. Who knows, Taff might even answer some questions... ;D If I can get my drawing tablet working...

Thanks again to @kirbyoctournament !

#kirby oc tournament #taff lore #kirby right back at ya #hoshii no kaabii #kirby of the stars #kirby oc

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taizi · 8 months

Note

could you write something about the crew saving sanji from captivity, like maybe he was caught by marines or somthing, and they hadnt been feeding him, and the crew gets to cook for sanji for once or something like that?

It made sense that they would run into a halfway intelligent Marine grunt sooner or later.

“You don’t fight with your hands much,” he said, opening the file on the table in between them. “Weak arms? Nah, I’ve never heard of a sailor with weak arms. There must be another reason.”

He wasn’t anyone special. Sanji was familiar enough with the uniforms by now to tell at a glance that he wasn’t decorated the way the real heavy hitters were. Chief Petty Officer, maybe. Warrant Officer at best.

Sanji was a Straw Hat. He wasn’t going to break a sweat for anyone less than a Vice-Admiral. He made sure to say as much, to clear up any misunderstandings. The officer didn’t appreciate hearing it for some reason.

He put out a hand without looking up from the file. A guard by the door stepped forward and placed something in his palm.

It was a ball-peen hammer.

“You’re the cook. That’s why you protect your hands. You wouldn’t have a place in that famous crew of yours if you lost those.”

“Well, you’re partly right, at least,” Sanji admitted. “For someone stupid enough to spectacularly piss my captain off, that’s far more than I expected.”

The extraction team arrived in the form of an unhinged skeleton and a six-foot-tall reindeer that tossed his knife-point antlers hard enough to put a decent-sized hole in the doorframe, but only after two fingers were mangled on Sanji’s right hand and one was freshly broken on his left.

The officer whirled around at the sudden appearance of uninvited company—surprised for just a moment, and then gray-faced with fear.

“About time,” Sanji snarked, and wrenched his shackled hands hard enough that the chain links binding him to the floor snapped. He stood, stretched his spine, and flicked a disinterested look at the Marine officer, who went melting towards the back of the room on legs that wobbled like jelly. Disregarding him, Sanji added, “Did Robin have time to get those files she wanted? I stalled for ages.”

For a beat, neither of his nakama answered him. Then Brook’s jaw made a cracking noise like a gunshot, the way it does when he’s grinding his teeth, and Chopper shrieked, “Your hands!!”

Sanji glanced down at them. “Oh, yeah. Our mutual friend over there wasn’t very creative.”

It hurt like a bitch, but it was far from the worst thing he’d ever felt. If it had gone much further, he might have seriously considered deviating from the plan, but a few broken bones? His brothers used to do that just for fun.

Brook tossed his guitar over his shoulder, where it hung against his back by the strap looped across his chest, and withdrew his sword instead.

“I can be very creative,” he said, sing-song.

“We’re leaving!” Chopper proclaimed, and herded Sanji toward the door with his antlers. Sanji went, amused by the pushiness.

It’s much less amusing an hour later, when his fingers are splinted and wrapped carefully, and Chopper tells him in no uncertain terms that he’s banned from work until Chopper’s satisfied with how they’ve healed.

Sanji agrees easily, because Chopper is equal parts adorable and terrifying when it comes to the health and safety of their family. But when he slips into the galley to begin preparing supper, the reindeer is right on his heels, scolding, “Sanji! That’s work!”

“Hardly,” he scoffs. Then, “Wait, are you serious?”

Chopper throws up his little hooves, as exasperated as any healthcare professional four times his age. “Why would I joke? Your bones are broken. Put down that spatula or I’ll scream!”

Sanji puts down the spatula. He’s never felt this wrong-footed before in his life. What does one do in a kitchen they aren’t allowed to cook in? He shifts his weight and looks sideways at the pantry.

“Oh my god,” Nami says. She points at the table. “Sit.”

“This feels kind of absurd,” he says.

“So it’s completely on-brand, then,” Usopp says, frog-marching him to a chair. “Good to know.”

Sanji lets himself be bullied with a scowl, and tucks his hands under the table where they can’t get him into any more trouble. Zoro, from the other side of the table, snorts into his tankard. Carrot drapes herself over Sanji’s shoulders, faux-sympathetic, but her chest rumbles with subvocal animal laughter. Franky and Jimbei are grinning openly.

It’s not funny. It’s time to eat. After all that action, their bodies need to replenish nutrients. They need carbs and proteins. He could at least be making smoothies while everyone argues with him—he can multitask!

Luffy, whose face has been a thundercloud ever since they returned to Sunny, leaving the Marine base actively on fire in their wake, brightens suddenly.

“I got it!” he announces, and that’s his trainwreck tone of voice. The very familiar, always inevitable, ‘you can try to stop me but it’ll just end in tears if you do’ tone of voice. Sanji braces himself, but nothing could have prepared him for Luffy cheerfully declaring, “We’ll make dinner!”

“Uh, no,” Sanji says quickly.

“Captain’s orders,” Robin says peacefully.

She was angry with him before—in that careful, soft-spoken way she gets angry with her nakama that always leaves them feeling lower than dirt—for letting himself get hurt in even this unremarkable capacity. But now she meets his eyes with a smile that only the people aboard this ship are privileged to see, and he fumbles his half of the argument before he even has a chance to make it.

Within that time, half his crew have migrated to the kitchen proper, and Nami is heaving open the huge recipe book that lives in place of pride on the counter.

“Hey, hey, Sanji!” Luffy yells. “What do you want to eat?”

“This is really unnecessary,” he says, shifting to stand. Carrot becomes deadweight on his back, dangling there like the world’s weirdest scarf.

“We’ll survive without five star food for a few days,” Jimbei says dryly. “If I were you, I’d answer their question before they take matters into their own hands and decide for you.”

In the kitchen, things are already rapidly devolving. There’s a lot of clamoring around and shoving of shoulders. This crew would never agree on anything they couldn’t argue about for hours first. Luffy clambers up onto Yamato’s back to get a bird’s-eye view of the recipe book, stretching an arm over Nami’s own shoulder to point out every dish that catches his eye. Yamato is a cheerful, agreeable jungle-gym, not even batting an eye when Luffy’s grip on one of his horns causes his head to tilt slowly to the left.

If Sanji had known letting that measly little officer play his shitty power games would end like this, he would have kicked the creep in the mouth hard enough to shut him up permanently.

He taps his bandaged fingers against his knees, frustrated and restless. Normally his friends’ stubbornness is weaponized against other people. He doesn’t like being on this end and he doesn’t understand why it’s happening.

“They want it to be special for you,” Zoro says suddenly, interjecting for the first time all night with that infallible wisdom he likes to pull out of thin air when it suits him. Then he takes another drink and adds, “God knows why.”

There’s nothing Sanji can do for a moment but stare at him. From the corner of his eye, he can see Robin and Jimbei’s knowing smiles, Franky looking as though he’s about to laugh. Carrot is still purring, tickled pink by the whole thing. All around them, Sunny shifts and groans as she bears them across the sea, and somehow it sounds like she’s in on it, too.

Sanji, who can’t remember the last time anyone cooked for him, refuses to feel touched. Honestly. This isn’t touching, it’s goddamn annoying—but he might as well let them have their fun, right?

“French toast,” he finally says. Not very loud, all things considered. But the anarchy in the kitchen comes to a sudden halt, and Luffy’s smile is bright enough to put that sun god lurking inside him to shame.

“With strawberries and cream,” he says importantly. “I remember! Sanji’s favorite!”

“Oh, that sounds good,” Yamato exclaims, still standing at a weird angle and unbothered by it. Next to him, Brook is imitating the pose, for no immediately apparent reason. “Do we have strawberries?”

“Strawberries!” Chopper yells, in what is either accord or a demand, and Usopp opens the fridge to investigate.

Sanji lets his chin sink into one of his hands, overseeing the chaos from his seat at the table. That itchy, uneasy feeling in his chest settles down. Now he just feels reluctantly fond.

He can’t help thinking about what the officer said to him back on the base.

Sanji is a cook, and he does protect his hands, but that’s the extent of what the self-important stranger got correct. Luffy would drag him back from hell if he died, so the idea of being cut free because his usefulness has expired is outright laughable. Sanji doesn’t need to secure his place here.

The reality is much simpler—providing food for the people that he loves is a privilege, one he doesn’t take lightly. It just honestly hadn’t occurred to him until now that the street goes both ways.

Dinner preparation takes twice as long as it should that night.

Somehow, it tastes twice as sweet.

#one piece #opfic #black leg sanji #tony tony chopper #nakamaship #my writing #op #prompt #anonymous #me pushing my french toast agenda #in my heart carrot and yamato joined the crew so thats why theyre both there #its canon to me and thats all that matters thanks for understanding #it isnt quite what u requested anon but i hope u like it anyway #food as a love language aka (one of) my ultimate weakness(es)

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f4y3w00d5 · 4 months

Text

My mother doesnt believe i could possibly be anything than a cisgender heterosexual monogamous person. She thinks im just a girl and that i couldnt possibly like girls or want to be in multiple relationships at once. Yet she claims to be an ally? Technically she does support everyone else. But I get the feeling that if I come out, in any of the ways, she's going to think im either lying for attention, in some sort of phase, or something else like that. She believes that a... whatever i am who has gotten attached to boys, not love, but this strange sort of... emotional attachement means that im attracted to boys. In my opinion, girls are generally prettier than boys. Sure loads of boys are pretty, but have you seen some of these women???

Point is, she'd try to convince me i was lying to myself if i ever told her about being pansexual, agender/genderfluid (not sure which one, but 90% sure its one of them) and polyamorous. Yet she supports the LGBT+ community. Hah. Unless of course they get representation. She was of course crowing about how the reindeers must all be female cos they had antlers, yet when i told her that meant rudolph was trans because the songs referred to him as a he, she all but yelled at me like 'No shes not!!!'. Which simply doesnt make sense.

#transphobia #homophobia #my mums shittiness

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mostspecialgirl · 2 months

Text

lazy preliminary doodle of new steenbok sona maybe

my ever so lovely pal @/ethylvanny (i don’t know if mentions notify people on tumblr) informed me of the existence of the steenbok tonight (not to be confused with the similarly named steinbock) and must i say i believe i have been graced with the knowledge of one of the few creatures who embody the loosely defined 'sarahcore'. that thing is so me. Look at it. also i’m keeping her horns because of transgender shit. Kill me, if you must.

just LOOK at this goddamn thing!!!!!! incredible !!!!!!!! incredible creature!!!! i tried having a reindeer sona due to my love of the deer-adjacent and Horns And Antlers Galore a while back but it didn’t fit in place too right. many a time i’ve tried all sorts of deers and gazelles of varying heavyheaded keratinery. This however. Hoho. Ohoho. Well. This i can work with. I can very much work with this silly little animal.

hey, don’t get me wrong, i’m as jackal as ever. But perhaps this world has too many wonderful creatures to stay a Generic Canine. Perhaps one must forego to path of tradition and pick out their own personal champion from the endless bounty of our cohabitants of this world. there’s one for each of us out there. Maybe two or three. I think I like the steenbok.

(though,,,, i suppose she is looking a bit thin in this doodle. something to be amended)

#mostspecialgirldoodletag #steenbok sona #oc #oc art #original character #sona shit #fursona #furry art #furry #fursona art #furry oc

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clusterbuck · 2 years

Note

Ooh for the sentence starters:

I’m hindsight, Eddie really should have hid the ring better.

in hindsight, eddie really should have hidden the ring better. but he’d been in a hurry—abuela had dropped by the house one day, unexpected, to give him his abuelo’s ring, and he’d only had fifteen minutes before buck was due home with christopher.

she’d pressed the ring into his hand and folded his fingers over it, then lifted her hand to his cheek. “your abuelo would be proud,” she’d said. “he’s a good man, your buck.”

“yeah,” eddie had agreed. “yeah, he is, but he’s also going to be home soon, so i need to—”

it had seemed relatively safe at the time. buck rarely goes into the hallway cupboard, neither of them do—unless it’s a holiday. like christmas, which is coming up.

now buck’s standing in the hallway, reindeer headband on his head and a ridiculous amount of tinsel wrapped around his neck. he’s holding the ring in one hand, careful, wondrous, and when he looks up at eddie there’s a slight question in his eyes for all of half a second before his face splits into a grin.

eddie figures his own face must make it pretty clear what the ring is for.

buck takes a step towards him, then another, still grinning. he takes a piece of tinsel around his neck and wraps it around eddie’s instead, using it to pull him closer.

“you love me,” buck says, sing-song, teasing, and eddie laughs and kisses the tip of his nose.

“this isn’t news,” eddie says.

“yeah, but you want to marry me,” buck says.

eddie raises his eyebrows. “you know i haven’t actually proposed to you yet.”

buck leans in to kiss him, the taste of the gingerbread they’d baked earlier on his tongue and tinsel itchy under eddie’s jaw, buck’s forearms resting on eddie’s shoulders and the heat of his body tucked in close. eddie gets lost in it, just for a second, just enough that when buck speaks it takes him a moment to remember what’s going on.

“yeah, but you’re gonna,” buck says. “and i’m gonna say yes.”

eddie smiles, swiping the antlers off buck’s head and settling the headband on himself. “yeah?” he asks. “you’re gonna marry me?”

“eddie,” buck says, laughter curling around the word the way it curls around every corner of their house. soft and bright, a sound eddie’s come to associate with home.

buck kisses him again, and eddie lets his hands slide down to buck’s waist, slip under the hem of his t-shirt and rest against the warm skin of his back. his fingertips tap out morse code, idle, a habit he’d picked up in the military, but instead of classified information and redacted coordinates now he taps out the same thing every time. eight letters, over and over. i-l-o-v-e-y-o-u.

“eddie,” buck says again, grinning at him the way he does sometimes, when his whole face crinkles up and eddie can see hints of the wrinkles he’s going to grow into, one day, when they grow old together. “of course i am.”

send me a sentence and i’ll write some more

#yes it’s august yes it’s christmas shhhh #dearestdiaz #ask emma #emma writes #buddie

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redhairedwolfwitch · 9 months

Text

Doctor Y/n - Attending Orthopedic Surgeon - 10 - Grey's Anatomy x Fem!Reader

"What is that on your head?" Jo raised an eyebrow, about to reach over when you ducked, avoiding her hands by taking them into yours and holding them instead.

"Okay, as cute as you are, do not grab my antlers- you didn't read your emails did you? Teddy's doing a Silly Hat Day, and it was these reindeer antlers on a headband, or one of the children's tiaras. You have grand rounds, go!" You instructed, nudging Jo to get going before you went to remove the antlers.

"These are going to give me a migraine..."

///

"Nice to meet everyone. I'm Doctor Addison Montgomery, and you must be the group that's been screwing up the program. Kidding." Doctor Montgomery chuckled to herself, leading the residents to grand rounds on it's feet, as Webber put it.

Joey: Doctor Addison Montgomery is here!!!

Braces: groundbreaking uterine transplant, I heard

Joey: Wow so you sound so excited

Braces: I'm reading more articles Callie sent

Joey: Don't you have surgeries as a big shot ortho attending?

Braces: Link and Nico keep taking the good ones, so I just get the children who had broken their arms or legs falling from trees or trampolines

Braces: when I'm not checking on post-ops

Joey: you sound bored:(

Jo however did not get a response, as another article caught your eye. An article which included the name of a doctor you once knew. Doctor Leah Murphy.

///

You only stopped reading when a rumble from the vents interrupted your thoughts, glancing through the window to spot Link reaching up from on top of one of the desks at the vents.

"Damn. No aircon." You realised, hurriedly putting down your tablet to check on patients who could be at risk with the HVAC system down.

///

"Where the hell is Link!" You shouted as you ran through the halls, but it was Webber that answered, stopping your run.

"He's on the roof looking at the HVAC with Altman."

"Teddy and Link are on the roof... okay I know Teddy installed an air con unit this morning but what the hell?" You replied before you had to check up on another patient.

///

"I delievered two babies today in 115 degree heat." Jo announced as she sat in the morgue, eating her snowcone.

"I mean, it's not a competition but I did help out on a successful uterine transplant." Schmitt added before you arrived, missing your reindeer antlers as Teddy frowned slightly, but you were making a beeline for the snowcones before landing on Jo.

"Oh god, you're all sweaty!" Jo grimaced, pushing your snowcone into your face as you went to speak but Jo who was asking Schmitt to put in a good word in for her, in case Doctor Montgomery came back to Grey Sloan to help deliver the uterine transplant baby.

"Leah's thriving in cardio. Articles and everything."

"Murphy? Good for her." Jo shrugged, glancing over at where Owen was talking to Teddy before leaving.

"Yeah. Good for her... I'm so glad I stashed ice cream in the freezer." You admitted, glancing at where Teddy was wearing her bobble hat indoors and saying bad puns.

"Hunt and Teddy are investigating something with veterans, but neither have said much." You explained, checking your phone to see Callie had asked your thoughts on the articles.

///

"Y/n, are you hiding here looking at research and letting Nico take all the good surgeries?"

"Nico got all the good surgeries, and the patients I do have are waiting on x-rays so I'm reading articles that the former head of Ortho sent me. I haven't been to New York since before the pandemic but there's not a lot of ortho stuff going on this season... I mean lately."

"Well, stick around, ortho still needs you, Y/n." Link replied, looking over your shoulder at the article you were reading and muttering a 'wow' under his breath.

Link had barely made it down the corridor when the hospital began to shake, an explosion heard somewhere that had you ducking under your desk.

///

You were quick to call up to daycare, finding out that everyone was fine as Hunt sent over messages wanting everyone in the ER.

"It was a pipeline explosion. He's still not answering." Bailey tried over and over to call Ben, whilst your eyes lingered on the TV displaying the news.

///

Your face fell as a deceased firefighter was brought in from the pipeline explosion scene. Dean Miller had died on the scene. Dean Miller had died on the scene and Victoria Hughes was in trauma one, alive but experiencing heart arrhythmias due to the electrocution.

///

Walking down the corridors, your eyes landed on Bailey and Warren with a two year old girl you didn't recognise, with many more firefighters in the room of the injured firefighter from before.

Down another corridor, in another room, you recognised Farouk in a patient bed, with Megan, Teddy and Owen. You didn't intrude, instead pretending like you had a patient to attend to. You didn't really fit with the Hunt family, not like Teddy did, or Allison.

"What happens if I die? What happens to Luna?"

"I get the penthouse, and Luna, Scout and I buy an 80-inch, high-def TV with your insurance money." Link replied, but Jo frowned, not even realising you were within earshot.

"Link!"

"I've got Luna. That's not even a question, okay? I've got Luna. And you know damn well that Y/n won't let you die without a fight. Honestly, Y/n would go toe to toe with the grim reaper if it meant saving you." Link pointed out, Jo looking relieved at the prospect.

"Thank you."

Letting out a breath you didn't realise you were holding, you unlocked your phone, hitting 'call' on a contact that you knew would probably complain that it was late for her, but you needed to talk to someone.

///

"Are you sleeping through Thanksgiving?" Was the first thing you heard as you reached for and answered your phone from under the blanket on your couch you had fallen asleep on.

"Joey took a shift, so Luna's at daycare. Allison and Leo are at Hunt's mother's house, Teddy is at the hospital with Megan and Farouk. Link is apparently at Amelia's with Scout and Meredith's kids. I am alone for Thankgiving after falling asleep on my couch last night."

"Are you avoiding Owen, or Owen's mother?" Arizona enquired but you didn't respond at first, rolling over in bed to get more comfortable.

"Both, but Teddy is avoiding Hunt's mother too... because she dislikes Leo's clothing choices, whereas Hunt's mother just doesn't like me. I get the feeling she would have preferred Teddy and Hunt to marry and be a happy little nuclear family." You explained, letting out a sigh.

"I don't fit. I don't really fit in anywhere anymore."

"Tell mini-me to visit us in New York-" "Callie, not right now!"

"I should go, happy turkey and whatever day, 'zona." You forced a smile even though Arizona couldn't see it, hanging up before Arizona could get another word in.

///

Sitting on your couch that lived in the living room of the penthouse, you were waiting on an order of Chinese takeaway to arrive. Jo was at the hospital eating gathered up Thanksgiving food with Bailey, Webber, Nico and Schmitt.

Link and Amelia were looking after Zola, Bailey and Ellis with Scout there too. Amelia had sent you a video of Link dancing with Meredith's children.

Heading towards the door once you knew the delivery person was near the building, your eyes landed on a pile of post that had been left near the door.

///

The Chinese takeaway tupperware sat on the coffee table as you began to go through the post, your heart fluttering at the postcard that Stephanie had sent you, along with one from Jackson that made you laugh. It wasn't until you were opening a letter from someone you didn't think had your new address that your eyes filled with tears.

Leah had sent you a letter, whilst Callie and Arizona had sent you cards from New York.

Heading over to the fridge to put the leftovers, your eyes landed on the familar photos from your intern year. You and Brooks. You missed Brooks. Glancing over the photos next to that one, you spotted the one of you and Leah at the Space Needle, and the photo that Jo had taken of you and Hannah Brody too.

The photos were high up enough on the fridge that none of the small children could reach them yet, luckily.

Tugging the hood of your Yale hoodie over your head, you laid down on your couch and put on one of the movies that Brooks had suggested on her list years ago now. A movie from 1989 called the Little Mermaid.

///

The buzzer going off stirred you from your sleep, sleepily walking over to see who it was, your eyes widened in shock, pressing the intercom to speak.

"Mac! Cody! Rory!"

"Did you really think we'd let you spend Thanksgiving alone?" Cody grinned at the camera, holding up Rory who squirmed and squealed in excitement to see you.

///

Tags: @nnightskiess @emskisworld @multifandomlesbianic @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived @inquisitive-nix @grey-warden-commander @unexpected-character @youralphawolf72 @incorrectlycorrectfun

#grey's anatomy x reader #grey's anatomy imagine #jo wilson x reader #teddy altman x reader #teddy altman imagine #jo wilson imagine

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ahomeforwisters · 4 months

Text

ava gift exchange 2023! 🎄🥳

it's here! happy holidays, lulw (@tdlad), hope you're having a good one! this isn't a piece of visual art since i don’t have the tools to create one, so you get a dr. seuss-inspired fic + a part of a fic i might finish later!

due to irl events, i had to rush these a bit, but i hope you enjoy it either way :) have a wonderful winter (or summer, depending on where you are) week, and happy (early) new year! *gives gingerbread cookie*

(prompt: i tried to combine elements from all three, but i focused on “the dark lord with red coat (that tdl in my posts)” specifically—your art is just gorgeous, btw!)

word count: ~1400 for the first one/the dr. suess-y one, ~1320 (and counting?) for the second one/the unfinished one

(and special thanks to @avagiftexchange for hosting this!)

Fic 1: How the Grinch Dark Lord Stole Christmas (or: dark's christmas cake romp)

Every stick in Stick City, near the end of the year, Every stick in Stick City brimmed with holiday cheer…

But! The Dark Lord, who’s not far from here, Who lived in the wintry woods quite near— The Dark Lord held Christmas even more dear!

~-~

The Dark Lord loved Christmas, this is no bluff, And you’d best believe it, he just can’t get enough! Was it because he enjoyed the sound of children laughing clear, Or did he simply have a particular liking for reindeer? Well I’ll tell you his secret, his reason for this: He really, really liked log cakes, they fill him with bliss.

“Christmas awaits, on the very next day, Christmas really is just a day away!”

But, From his perch in the woods, Watching the stars from where he stood, With hungry eyes and vibrant ardor, With the growing desire for Christmas he harbors, (and a craving for frosting he just can’t ignore), The Dark Lord knew: he needed more!

He needed more of all that Christmas had in store! And he will get more, he swore, He’ll claim even more of Christmas, ‘twas his right as a Lord!

But—how? Christmas is already drawing so near, Soon enough, Christmas will practically already be here! He needed more time, and he needed… a plan! A plan to put Christmas in the palm of his hand.

So The Dark Lord schemed, And he schemed, and he schemed, And he conjured a scheme, A terrible scheme!

“A-ha! I’ve got a brilliant idea!”

Dark cackled, a sound from deep in his throat, As he pulled from his closet his most dapper red coat. “They’ll never see me coming, even from the skies, “So long as I craft myself a most clever disguise!”

So he lined his coat with cotton, like Santa’s coat proper, Just as into the room, his friend Chosen entered— “Look, dearest Chosen, I’ve come up with a plan, “A plan to seize Christmas in the palm of my hand!”

Dear Chosen deadpanned, “Why are you talking like that,” And right after, he inquired, what about your silly Santa’s hat?

“No I didn’t—”

“Right here! I believe my night cap is sufficient,” Dark proclaimed, wearing the hat over his ears. “Now I only need a reindeer…”

But around this area, their part of the woods here, This much Dark knew: you wouldn’t find any deer! But was Dark deterred…? No! He said, “If I can’t find a deer, I’ll just make one instead!”

“...What do you think you’re doing with that big red nose.”

…And Dark ended up sticking the nose and antlers on his one last Virabot instead!

And so, with his little red cap on his hollow red head, And his feet firmly planted in his makeshift sled— He took with him a burlap sack, Which he then hoisted upon his back— He yelled, “Onward!” just before he took flight, Off to steal Christmas, he disappeared into the night!

~-~

Back on the ground, Chosen gazed down at the cardboard box—sorry, at the sled—Dark left behind. He stared at the confused Virabot, wearing an antler headband and sporting a red clown nose glued to its face, and sighed. “This is so stupid…”

~-~

A jaunty holiday tune played from an open Chrome window, But not a sound could be heard coming from inside their homes. He was here at last, and at the perfect time, too— They must all be in their beds, dreaming away without a clue! “Now to enact my plan…”

So he climbed down the chimney, one crafted from brick, It wasn’t too tight a fit, for he was literally a stick. Though he did get stuck once, or twice, maybe thrice— And he cursed his head, loudly, for it was massive in size. “Ow—seriously, who makes chimneys this small—”

“Second, is that you?”

Just as Dark managed to extricate himself, finally, Free from the clutches of that dastardly chimney— He came face-to-face with his first obstacle: Little Cindy-Blue Who, carrying fruits in a bowl.

“Wha… Little Cindy-Blue who?”

That’s right! Little Cindy-Blue Who, probably much older than two, Who… was actually awake at this time? But it’s two (a.m.)!

“Oh, no, we don’t actually sleep. Like at all. Except Second, sometimes, but he’s off doing his own thing right now. But uhh, anyways, hi, Dark Lord! What—what’s up? And why are you dressed like…”

And oh, there was a cautious glint in his eyes— He was nervous! But there was no need for such fright, Not if Dark wanted his plan to go without a hitch. So Dark would assure him, and explain his impromptu visit:

“You see, sweet youth—you see, the job of Santy, “Is to stock up your stockings, and fill them aplenty! “So that’s what I’m here for—but not you, my dear, “For this gift’s a surprise, so I can’t have you near.”

And the lie rolled cleanly off The Dark Lord’s tongue, For he was clever, and sure to fool the young. And surely enough, Cindy-Blue Who was nodding, Raring and ready to hurry back to bed a-plodding. You’re right, Santa Dark, he joyfully exclaimed, I’ll head right back to bed now! With a turn and a wave.

“What? But I didn’t say anythi—”

And so, with his burlap sack swinging, And with Cindy-Blue assuaged, standing there beaming— “Hey, don’t—get back here…!” The Dark Lord marched onward, his first obstacle cleared!

…only to find four more, all waiting at the door!

(…crap)

Ahem—what a surprise! The Dark Lord gasped, He can’t believe his eyes, ‘twas something he almost couldn’t grasp— What a sight, that they’d all come to greet him so, How happy they must be, to all rush out and greet him so!

“Hey uhh… what’s he saying?”

‘What’s he saying?’ They’re asking what game he’s playing! They ask why he’s here, and on what he was preying. But! faced with a barrier of four— Now five, as Cindy-Blue Who, panting, adds one more… They all block his path to the far kitchen door, But has this ever stopped The Dark Lord before? No!

“Hey wait, where are you going?” Cindy-Blue called when Dark showed no signs of slowing.

“Why’d you come here all of a sudden?” Said the yellow, placing a hand on his chin.

“The Cindy-blue-what now?” Slowly asked the red fellow.

“And what’s with the getup?” Queried Green, looking him from the toes up.

“Oh, Chosen told me he and Dark recently discovered these popular picture books. And ever since then, Dark’s been narrating everything he does in rhyme.”

“Ah, is that why he’s talking like that?” Yellow asked, eyeing his little Santa’s hat.

“That’s actually kind of impressive,” Remarked Green, who’s usually quite quick to forgive.

“Ooh, try rhyming something with orange!” Red said as Cindy-Blue stood next to Orange.

“Please stop calling me that, I don’t even know what it means,” Groaned Cindy-Blue Who, beside a laughing Green.

“Hey guys, Chosen texted me again just now—apparently Dark is here trying to ‘steal Christmas’ from us—which really just means he wants our log cakes.”

(goddammit Chosen you traitor)

“Wait, that’s it? That’s what that devious plan he was cackling about is?”

“I mean, Blue could always just make another cake. You could’ve just asked if you wanted one.”

“Yeah, and you’re… kind of really bad at sneaking? We could hear you narrating really loudly as soon as you got here.”

“And cursing out Orange’s chimney, too. Geez, that was vulgar…”

“Well,” with a flourish, the orange stick gestures, Towards the kitchen, where Dark had been hoping to plunder. “We’ve got some cake, if you want it. Next time just let us know you’re coming before you tear a portal through our wifi. And maybe keep your visits during the daytime, or at least don’t come crawling down my chimney past midnight…”

What was this? Could it be—no, it simply couldn’t be… But it was! “They’ll stand here and hand Christmas—to me?” For ‘twas the season of giving, of gifts freely given, Of gingerbread, batter, and cakes in the kitchen.

And there Dark stood and pondered, and pondered, and pondered, ‘Til a bright thought struck him! One that filled him with wonder: Could it be, then, that Christmas was not for the taking, But for shared cheer and laughs and all that in the making?

“Oh, for Adobe’s—just sit down and have some log cake.” And, well— ‘Twas simply an offer Dark cannot forsake.

- the end -

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Fic 2: i don't actually have a name for it yet, but i think i'll call it thaw for now

Christmas. ‘Twas a time of joyous laughter and warm embraces, of fireside affections and wintry escapades. ‘Twas the season of giving, be it presents or sweets or even the simplest of smiles—‘twas a time when even the little things, when given to another, are made infinitely precious.

Christmas. ‘Twas an absolutely perplexing holiday, for a stick such as The Dark Lord—and ‘twas a completely pointless one, too, as far as Dark was concerned.

Yet, when a pair of glittery red envelopes arrived at the doorstep of his and Chosen’s cabin in the woods—and when he opened one of them up to find an invitation inside, filigreed in gold and writ upon with a blue gel pen (in rather shaky handwriting, he noticed)—he didn’t immediately turn it to ash. He regarded it for longer than he normally would’ve, longer than he should’ve, turning it this way and that under the light—‘You’re invited!’, it winked up at him. If he didn’t know better just how sappy the animator’s favorite and his friends can be, he would’ve thought this was some kind of taunt.

(“You’re invited!”? who in their right minds would want to invite The Dark Lord, the outernet’s worst cyber-criminal, to something as mundane—as warm alien pointless—as a holiday gathering?)

While he was still winning gots nose at the gaudy invitation, the only other stick around for miles appeared in his periphery—Chosen picked up an envelope, too, when he saw what Dark was studying at the doorway. Dark almost hadn’t noticed when his fr… when his roommate had snuck up behind him, his pronounced footfalls doing little to breach the chasm between them; it was all he could do to stop himself from launching a fireball at Chosen as soon as the latter reached past him (he hadn’t forgotten how well that’d gone for him the last time…)

Clumsily, fumbling with it once or twice, Chosen peeled at the envelope. His invitation was inked in orange instead of blue, littered with tiny scribbled drawings, and written in much neater script, too. Dark couldn’t catch the rest; Chosen always stood with his feet angled toward him these days, so his invitation turned away from view. That, and he’d moved a few paces away from the doorway—and Dark wasn’t interested anyway, he wasn’t. Pointless, he told himself again, it was such a pointless gesture. It was something he didn’t need—The Dark Lord had better things to do, had more important things to do, than to entertain something as small and banal as a Christmas party—it was a pointless affair, that was all it was.

(and yet.)

And yet. Dark wouldn’t be able to say what possessed him to do it; if it was sheer curiosity, a part of him balking at his own degrading wonder—or if it was when Chosen’s fingers tightened their hold on his invitation, carving minute creases into the paper,

and when the other stick’s eyes crinkled, just barely, in tender longing silent laughter only Dark would recognize—when those eyes finally met his, carrying a question and a spark Dark hadn’t seen in so long—he couldn’t find it within him to say no.

(it was Chosen’s idea, he would say later—it was all his roommate’s fault, the first and last person to extend their hand to him, that he was crashing their little party. he hadn’t wanted this, hadn’t needed it—he didn’t need this, he didn’t.)

~-~

If he was being honest—Dark really didn’t have anything better to do than to attend the party.

Ever since he was blasted to kingdom come by the animator’s favorite, ever since a battered Chosen had found him at the foot of a volcano and hauled his near-corpse all the way back to their cabin—in the months since, he’d seldom left their secluded area in the woods to do anything more than take a short walk. His shoulder still smarted from the hole that’d been blown through it, his skin etched with throbbing green scars all over—he couldn’t travel far beyond the bounds of the woods without wilting, robbed of breath. Needless to say, his heydays of ash and destruction were far behind him.

(and even if all his progress hadn’t been deleted, rendered void when Chosen destroyed the rest of his virabots following the “incident”—these days, looking at the place where he’d once stood tapping away at his computer, believing himself the inheritor of a grander purpose than the one dealt to him by the animator—it left an sour taste in his mouth.)

In his current condition, even petty theft seemed beyond his capabilities. Which was going to be a problem, he realized, when he turned to the back of the invitation and saw the damning first rule of the party written in a bold green: “Come in a costume! No costume, NO ENTRY.”

Well, in the state he was in, he wasn’t going to be pulling any heists anytime soon, not even on cheap outfitters—and he doubted any store would simply let a notorious cyber-criminal waltz into their establishment, even just to look around. That left him with only two options: either go through his own closets, or brave Chosen’s minefield of a room to rifle through his. It wasn’t a hard decision to make.

With practiced ease (and only slightly impeded by his still-healing injuries), Dark picked his way past piles of lightly-charred sweaters, discarded bandages, random knick knacks collecting dust over the years, a self-sustaining tornado of trash—all the way across his roommate’s bedroom to reach the far end where the closets were. While Dark considered his fashion sense to be impeccable, none of his clothes really screamed “festive.” It was all something along the lines of “looks like he could kill you” or “warning: would actually kill you.” Chosen’s taste in clothes, on the other hand, was more… eclectic. There was more variety; he’d probably have a better chance finding something acceptable to wear here than in his own wardrobe.

Dark threw open the leftmost closet, a mahogany behemoth with the price sticker still slapped on the left door, and oh, that was—what even was that? No, those pants were too long, and the pair beside them the wrong shade of green—and oh, that’s garish, why did he even think to nab this? What is this even supposed to be, a mop? Or some kind of shawl? That color is way too bright to ever belong on a shirt, that shirt is a visual safety hazard. And what—why aren’t these socks the same, where’s the other one in the pair? None of these socks are the same—is that a pair of googly eyes—

Dark shut the closet door. He should’ve expected this, really; he’d witnessed the affront to fashion that was Chosen’s wardrobe thousands of times before, whenever they had to disguise themselves to go into the city. The two other closets wouldn’t be much better, he knew, but just as he was turning to head back toward the door—had that box always been there?

Tucked away into the corner of the room was a small cardboard box, a little tattered and stained in several spots from years of disuse but otherwise appearing untouched by the surrounding mess. As an expert at navigating Chosen’s room, Dark knew for certain it hadn’t been there the last time he was here (just over three months ago. he’d been scrounging for one of the aprons he’d left in Chosen’s room; it feels like it’s been forever since then.)

It took only a short hop for Dark to reach it. The next second, he was kneeling down in front of it, carefully lifting the top flaps—and sure, maybe a part of him was prodding at him, telling him whatever was in there was probably stashed away in the corner for a reason, reminding him that things are different now, the space between you and him, it’s different now—but that hadn’t ever stopped Dark before

(aaand that's all i have for this second one for now. i'll probs post the rest on ao3 or something if i finish this, but i'll def let you know!)

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but yeah, anywho, that's all—have a wonderful holiday season! :)

#ava gift exchange #ava gift exchange 2023 #animator vs animation #animation vs minecraft #alan becker #ava tco #ava tdl #avm tsc #avm green #avm blue #avm red #avm yellow #for the first fic i just wanted to write dark being a goof #while the second was more character-studyish #anywho #it's here! gift exchange! :D

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