I Tried Sketching The Version Of Eris That's Always In My Head, But I Don't Think I'm A Good Enough Artist

I feel like in the rush of “throw out etiquette who cares what fork you use or who gets introduced first” we actually lost a lot of social scripts that the younger generations are floundering without.

quick reminder that my own lesbian-nonbinary-ass genuinely supports the hell outta each and every one of you. regardless if i know you or not, im happy to be living in this shithole of a life in the same world with you.

and im proud of you, i know in my heart just how beautiful, amazing, talented, smart, and worthy you are and i hope you can see that too🏳️‍🌈🌈

i could not go to be until i finished this piece! Here is Lucien Vanserra, emissary of the Spring Court/Night Court. Did I base him on Val Kilmer's Mad Martigan in Willow? Yes. Yes I did. Gimme a time machine bc that is my fan cast, lol.

“I was now High Lord and could do what I wanted with trespassers threatening the peace of my lands. I claimed Lucien as my own—named him emissary, since he’d already made many friends across the courts and had always been good at talking to people, while I… can find it difficult. He’s been here ever since.” - ACOTAR, Chapter 18

Tamlin rescuing Lucien from his brothers. I thought about drawing this scene ever since I read it and wanting to make a gift for @yaralulu, who loves angsty stuff as much as I do, I finally took the time for it!

Hello, a little request here!! ❤️‍🔥

Azriel gets jealous when Eris courts a female his father has ordered him to win her favor. The sole view of her hooked to his arm makes Azriel see red, and unable to bear it any longer he's dragged to the Autumn heir's chambers where he waits for his return to make a clear statement of possession and raw desire. *winks, winks*

helloooo lovely anon!! thank you for the request!! i love it and it made me realise i've never actually written jealous!azriel so must remedy that immediately. Hope you enjoy!

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It’s the colour of her dress that Azriel loathes the most. 

A deep emerald green, layers of silk and lace that fall on the floor like spilled ink. They trail after her every delicate step, the click of her heels against the marble grating on Azriel’s nerves like clashing blades. 

She has no name—but she smiles and holds her head high and her eyes are green, two shades lighter than her dress, and cunning. The words she says are few, but the looks that dawn on the other guests’ faces as she speaks tells Azriel enough—that she is as cruel and mean as the male whose arm she hangs off, that she is smart, that she is familiar with the game she has come to play, here, tonight.

Her wings rest folded against her back, the open back of her dress framing them perfectly. Green, like her eyes, like her dress; beautiful gossamer webbing sparkling against her deep skin. 

Eris’ hand brushes against the small of her back. 

Azriel looks away. 

The ceremony is dreadful; he does not want to be here. But Rhysand dragged him here with a single, menancing look, and Azriel hates his brother, just a bit, just enough for his skin to pull tight over his hands when he curls his fingers into fists. 

At least the stone wall against his back is cool. They are in Dawn, and the night, as it descends slowly over Thesan’s court, is pungent and bright. 

The air smells faintly of oranges, blown into the open-roof ballroom by a gentle breeze. All manner of Fae mingle together, talking in low tones or bursting into laughter or dancing, fine dresses fluttering around ankles and females dipping low towards the floor. 

Azriel tries not to stare at her—but the light refracting off her wings catches his attention more times than he would like. When his gaze falls on her, his stomach clenches, a feeling like spiders crawling up his throat causing his wings to twitch against the stone. 

He should be working—he should be paying attention to countless of other things but her: this Fae that glides across the room with an ease even Rhysand would be envious of. 

Eyes other than Azriel’s track her movements avidly; whispers follow her as she makes her rounds across the room, leading Eris more than Eris leading her. She takes a sip of the peach-coloured wine in her glass and Azriel shadow’s show him how Eris’ eyes fall to her mouth, how they linger, for a moment, on the wet curve of her bottom lip, painted a burgundy shade. 

A burning ache alights in Azriel’s stomach. Eris’ hand on her back pulls her a little closer. The golden embroidery of his tunic shines against her green dress. 

Azriel wraps himself in shadows and disappears, just as Eris looks away from her and towards him.

He reappears high in the sky, the deep purple of the nights echoing green against his closed lids. He flies all the way from Dawn to Autumn, his shadows coiling around his limbs, demanding he return. 

But Azriel can’t, because the ache in his stomach has grown into a fury that stretches and wraps around his very bones. His pulse thrums in his ears, louder even than the wind as he flies over red and golden trees. 

He dives with desperation clustering his sternum and when he lands in front of Eris’ garden doors, the earth shuddering beneath him, Eris is already there. 

Eris’ eyes are bright, his long hair dancing with the wind brought forth by Azriel’s landing. 

“Azri—”

Eris’ words are cut short by Azriel’s mouth pressing to his, by his hand cupping Eris’ neck and bringing him closer, until thier bodies are flush. 

Azriel kisses his anger and hunger into Eris’ mouth—pushes him backwards until the curtains of Eris’ bedroom part and make way for them. 

Eris grunts into his mouth and kisses him back with the same desperation, his hands cupping Azriel’s face, fingers tangling in his hair. 

“Who was she?”

Azriel presses the question against the hinge of Eris’ jaw as he pushes him down onto the bed. 

“No one,” Eris says, then groans when Azriel’s blunt teeth bite just above his collar, where Eris’ pulse is alive and thrumming and Azriel’s. 

Azriel wraps one hand around Eris’ waist and pulls him closer to him, until their hips are pressed together and Eris’ breath hitches. 

Eris captures Azriel’s mouth in another searing kiss. Azriel wishes, fervently, that the Mother would let him rest, let him live in this moment forever. Let him keep Eris for himself, tucked away somewhere no one will ever find them.

“You’re mine,” he says into Eris’ mouth. “Even if they don’t know it, you’re mine.”

Eris’ fingers tug at Azriel’s hair. He pulls Azriel’s mouth away from his to leave a burning kiss against the side of Azriel’s neck. “Always.”

What I draw at 12:30 AM when I need to sleep but the IDEAS

@nestaarcheronweek Day 3 - True North

One of my favorite parts of ACOSF is seeing Nesta come into her own as a warrior. She’s collected some titles along the way — Valkyrie, Oristian, Lady Death — and I think her path is going to continue taking her to new heights in combat. With Cassian, the Valkyries, Ataraxia, and the Trove at her side, she’s a force to be reckoned with throughout Prythian (and maybe beyond?).

Thank you to the amazing @shakioo for creating this fanart! Doing this series of Valkyrie art with you has been so much fun!!

✨ Please do not repost or alter images ✨

Matching Gwyn and Emerie images below!

how to be the ultimate tool of destruction

Pairing: Azriel/Eris Vanserra

Rating: M

Chapter Count: 1/3

Description: Even from the other end of Prythian, Eris Vanserra manages to unravel the careful tapestry of Azriel's stoic exterior one thred at a time. The Shadowsinger is no stranger to wrath, but the kind that the Lordling inspires is one that he just can't seem to get a grip on. He hates it. The loss of control, the thoughtlessness, the total dissociation. He doesn't want the rage or the blindness that it brings, but he just can't seem to help it when the First Son of Autumn is involved.

Especially not when a mating bond snaps between them.

But when Azriel's instincts are forced in a new direction, and his rage takes a different shape, he is confronted with truths and feelings that he'd previously thought impossible. Because, at the end of the day, Eris Vanserra is his mate.

And there is little that Azriel wouldn't do for the one tied to his soul.

hello hello! if you like azris and you'd like to see what i lovingly refer to as Angry Azzy, feel free to check out my most recent fic! you can access it on AO3 from the hyperlink above, or here. and let me know if you'd like to be on the taglist, or if you already are and i've tragically forgotten you, which is a very real possibility. i'll be sure to write you down and include you in future azris posts if you're interested! And if I tagged you and you didn't want to be tagged, don't be afraid to let me know and I'll take you off, no sweat

@secret-third-thing @g00seg1rl @the-darkestminds @jules-writes-stories @amalhe-kofee @molcat07 @iftheshoef1tz @mudandmire

Wip update in honor of poly week @polyacotarweek

Nesta x cassian x azriel just having a Sellyn Drake good time