Eris: Oh, So When Crows Remember People Who Wronged Them And Hold Grudges, Its "intelligent" And "really

before you stab someone: THINK!

how can you make it Tender?

how can you make it Homoerotic?

how can you make it Implicitly intimate?

how can you make it Noticeably a metaphor for sex?

how can you make it Kind of gay?

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!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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.”

reblog this if your icon could kill a man

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Sister Scorned

It is @nestaarcheronweek aka the best week of the year!

For Day 1: Bonds, I have brought you sibling bonding, women helping women, and holding Rhysand accountable for his actions.

Read the full story (Completed!) on A03.

---

Feyre had made this child out of love, with the notion that she’d be there to raise him. Nesta had thought, as High Lady, she’d have been granted the utmost care, the ability to make every single decision, to have a full working knowledge of her world.

Instead, they treated her sister no better than they did herself. With secrets.

Nesta closed her eyes, readying for her abduction off the streets.

Instead, the earth trembled, tilted, and abruptly, the male she felt too much for yet no longer knew how to deal with was stumbling away, flames erupting between them.

“Put your hands on her and you’ll lose them.”

Nesta blinked, pushing herself upright on the wall of whatever building she’d been leaning against, and looked over the barrier to see her sister in all her glorious fury, her hand outstretched.

“Feyre,” Cassian croaked, looking as shocked as she felt, something agonized in his eyes. “Rhys told me to-”

“Speak his name to me again, I dare you.” Her sister hissed. “I know exactly what he told you.”

---

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64906348/chapters/166834348#workskin

Tag List: @c-e-d-dreamer @podemechamardek @talkfantasytome @moodymelanist @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @eerievixen @sweet-pea1 @thewayshedreamed @agents-assemble @jsmelodies @aelinchocolatelover @unlikelypersonalknight1 @bri-loves-sunflowers @misswonderflower @acourtofladydeath @natasharomxnov @unhealthyfanobsession @fiction-loving-person @daddyduncan69 @bobanna81 @a-trifling-matter

@blueunoias @authenticgaymer @xstarlightsupremex

if you receive this, you make somebody happy! Go on anon and send this to ten of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up (don't feel pressured if you don't want to though). If you get one back, even better! 💖💖💖

💖 TYYY

IM SO HAPPY I MAKE YOU HAPPY

YOU MAKE ME VERY HAPPY ALSO

YAYYYY *begins violent Irish jig to show appreciation because yes*

I shall go send this to ten more people...

BRINGING HAPPIESS AND CHAOS WHERE I TREAD ;)))

I love this WHOEVER SEES THIS, PUT IT IN SOMEONE'S ASKS AND MAKE THEIR DAY :)))

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.

I have to assume that in the fullness of time, at least once, a mouse has used a mushroom as an umbrella.

That’s enough to keep me going.

My entry for @tamlinweek Day 1: Forgiveness / Change

This is based on the Witch Hat Atelier art challenge that was on the bird app a while back (you can find the original art under the cut).

I thought the image fit Tamlin so beautifully.