Hi I'm Julia! I mostly write azris. All of my work is on AO3 here. Behold! My stuff:
Azris
Autumn's Shadow | WIP (36/42)
A covert meeting between Azriel and Eris to exchange valuable intel leaves Azriel reeling—and questioning everything he has ever felt for the Heir of Autumn. Azriel finds himself inexorably drawn to Eris, unable to resist his captivating allure. With the threat of Koschei and Beron looming ever closer, can their forbidden love endure in the face of such danger?
Autumn’s Shadow Chapter 20 art commission
Perhaps Tomorrow | Oneshot
Eris gives up trying to piece it all together. He’s tired—exhausted, really, and he’s got all the time in the world to worry about it later.
Perhaps tomorrow, when the sun is shining and he can no longer feel the bruising outline of Rhysand’s fingers on his skin.
Remind Me Where The Light Is | WIP (5/14)
Two years after the Autumn Court’s defection to the Loyalist cause, Azriel of Illyria is sent on a dangerous mission under orders from the High Lord of Night. His objective: meet with a secret contact within Hybern’s ranks and secure critical intel to shift the tide of war. What Azriel doesn't anticipate is the contact's true identity—Eris Vanserra, his sworn nemesis and Heir to an enemy Court.
Bound by duty and forced into an uneasy alliance, Azriel and Eris must navigate the deadly politics of war while grappling with the unexpected passion simmering between them.
He Comes At Night | Series | (2/2)
all and then most of you
Azriel seeks out the Autumn male for comfort.
some and now none of you
Eris summons the Night male for comfort.
May The Shadows Carry You Home | Oneshot
Eris recalls a memory with Azriel.
go now, quietly | drabble
Written for a 5-word prompt game.
Silly Halloween Art!
Feysand
Rhysand Is The Most Handsome High Lord | WIP (2/?)
Feyre puts her shapeshifting powers to good use.
Ongoing smutty series of Feyre and Rhysand abusing their daemati and shifting powers.
Elucien
It's Just A Burning Memory | Oneshot
Elain and Lucien find healing and comfort in each other's arms.
Eris x OC | Gen Eris
His Father's Son | Eris x Liam | Oneshot
Lonely and struggling to navigate life in the Forest House, Eris Vanserra finds a friend in Liam, a lord’s son whose father works closely with the High Lord. Love blossoms between them as they explore their connection, along with the weight of the expectations placed on them by their fathers. When a devastating betrayal leads to tragedy, Eris learns for the first time what it means to be his father’s son.
Desolate Autumn | Eris & Lucien | Oneshot
Eris Vanserra refuses to kill Lucien's lover, Jesminda, at the request of his father, and faces severe punishment. Lucien flees the Autumn Court.
A Dying Flame | Eris | Oneshot
Eris Vanserra is forced to watch as his youngest brother Lucien is tormented by Amarantha under the mountain.
Azriel x Eris Vanserra | Azris ⚔️ Written for @azrisweek Day 5: AU
Welcome to this 60s!Prythian!Modern-ish!Everyone Is Alive AU that has been on the boil for a little while. thank you to my darlings @buffy-vanserra @olenvasynyt @eatsbooks @musty-old-claptrap for holding my hand and beta'ing this at various points (and please pretend i didnt forget to thank you my b)
Azriel and Eris met at law school. They're rivals. Friends. Something of the sort. But now it's Solstice and they're back home, yet, their minds seem to linger on each other. Willingly. Not. Not much difference between them in the end. [3.7k words]
warnings: anxiety, smoking, allusions to drugs, shady business adjacent night court, media empire vanserras, eris vanserra is a dick (affectionate), swearing, if i missed something, lmk!
Prefer Ao3? | the Azris Week blog!
Too many plates and not enough space on the dining room table. He’s holding a steaming dish of roasted potatoes—they smell so good. Elain already tossed them and salted them. Nowhere to put it. The heat is there. The edge of comfortable.
‘Oh, Azriel, you’ll burn yourself.’
Rhys’ mother takes them off him, hand already wrapped in a tea towel for it, and shuffles the stuffing and gravy so that the potatoes can slot into the gap in front of Cass. His fingers itch. Cass leans back in his chair, already pretending to be half asleep. For half an hour now, he’s been waiting for a call from Nesta. If she bothers at all. Non-chalant. Hah! Every now and then, Az watches him stop his knee from bouncing.
‘And turn that television off,’ Rhys’ mother says, flitting round into the kitchen, ‘we can do without that Amren woman telling us we’re losing three-one to Spring, thank you.’ A distant mumble as she disappears behind the wall: ‘It’s Solstice, gods help us, don’t they give the poor thing time for family?’
Az goes to turn it off. Cass glares at him. Az, shit-eating grin, flicks the switch. Asshole, he mouths. A shrug. Never was one for football anyway. He leans against it, the television, a great big thing, sturdy as a brick wall, and warms the back of his thighs with the heat of the screen. He wouldn’t dare touch it. Keeps his arms folded, hands tucked into his elbows.
Backdoor shuts. Feet shuffling. ‘No rest for the wicked, Ma. Amren knows that better than anyone.’ Bags rustling, left on the kitchen counters. Bread and butter and staple things for tomorrow, when the markets are closed and everyone is too full from the night before to move. Az hears her kiss him on the cheek.
‘You said you’d be late,’ she says. Maybe a little tearful already. Not the same without him.
‘Pa let me off early.’
‘Well. Never mind that. Go on, sit down. We’re almost ready.’
‘Sure, sure. Hello, Elain. Fey here yet?’
Feyre’s out on the front porch trying to hide that she’s started smoking again. They have this little pact, between him and her, where when he catches her, she gives him a cigarette, and he promises not to tell Rhys. Az can keep a secret, and isn’t precious about bribes. If Rhys had come in the front way, she’d be busted. She’s smart enough to know there’s only room for the car in the alley out back.
‘Somewhere around,’ comes Elain’s soft voice. ‘You know how she is.’ Said with a smile, Az can hear it.
Ah, there’s the telephone. New just last month. Better cord. Louder ring. Better to have it in the kitchen, he’d said to Rhys’ mother, no need to traipse through half the house. Nesta will tell him she isn’t coming.
‘Leave it!’ Cass shouts, hauling himself out the chair that is starting to look too small for him. He’s so broad now, shoulders packed in with tight muscle. Hugs from him are pleasantly crushing. ‘I’m coming.’
A pat on the back from Rhys, crossing him in the doorway. A smile and a good luck, you’ll need it.
‘Here he is.’ All dressed up. Shined shoes. Dark, woollen overcoat. Leather gloves. Hair slick but not perfect. Mussed. Easy smile. Feyre will climb him when she sees him. Az feels distinctly underdressed, even with nice slacks and an ironed shirt. Rhys wears a tie like his father these days. ‘Brooding already?’
‘Funny.’ They embrace, claps on the back, and maybe they hold each other a little tighter, a little longer than usual.
Rhys grips him by the shoulders. Looks him up and down. ‘Big college boy, eh? He doesn’t even wear a jacket for Solstice. Call yourself a law student.’
All squared away and paid for. He’s got potential, that one. Smart. Always thinking, aren’t you, boy? But he’s home now, just for a few weeks. Back in the city, ready to fill his lungs with the sea air and drink his weight in wine. Trip over cobbled streets. Get dragged through the Rainbow by Mor. Get dragged to Rita’s by everyone. And he’ll pretend to hate it.
With a huff, Az shoves him in the chest. ‘Yeah, yeah. At least I’m not getting dolled up and… oh—’ he snickers—‘you got powder on your nose, Rhysie—’ Rhys swipes at it with the back of his hand, reflex, just beak, I swear, a little, every now and then—‘fix yourself up in the ladies’ before you got in the car?’
That earns him a clip round the ear, but not hard enough to hurt. ‘Shut it.’ Then a tender pat at the cheek. ‘It’s nice to have you around,’ he says. ‘You’ve been gone so long Cass was planning on coming up and kidnapping you just for a weekend.’
‘Oh yeah? How’s he getting to me?’
‘Guy was gonna walk it.’
‘Dumbass.’
‘Yeah, well,’ Rhys says, ‘he’s got no one around to temper his stupid-ass ideas nowadays.’
Speak of the devil, Cassian pokes his head around the doorframe. Frowning. Elain comes through with another plate—where on Earth—? oh, by the pickled cabbage—and Rhys’ mother follows with the main attraction. A huge bird, a chicken, the biggest one from the Palace they could find, covered in tin foil, ready to be deposited onto the empty platter at the centre of the table. Az, so used to shitty canteen food and cheap takeaway pork ramen which has never so much as seen a pig in its life, is dying to sit. His mouth, watering. Then too does Feyre appear, pulling off her boots, wafting floral perfume, the good one, into the room. Rhys goes all soft and draws away, his sharp eyes gentle a touch and—
‘It’s for you.’
—they’re good together. Az likes Feyre a lot—
‘Az.’ Cassian smacks his hand against the doorframe, bashing so hard Rhys’ mother barrels a look at him. He grimaces, sheepish, but it got his attention.
‘For me?’ Az asks. ‘Why? Who is it?’
No one from university knows this number, even really knows he lives in Velaris. They look at him, see an Illyrian, and don’t ask any more questions until he beats them in class, then they ask how he cheated. Maybe an old friend from school could guess it. Might see the name in the phonebook and put two and two together. Gwyn does keep sending him nice letters from Autumn down south, after all. He already sent her a card for the holiday. Hope this piece of folded paper lets you know I’m thinking of you. He’s certain she’ll laugh.
He dares not entertain the idea that his mother might have remembered it’s Solstice. Or even that they would let her call him if she has.
Cass makes a face. ‘I don’t know. He says he’s a friend. Has the number anyway. Be quick about it, would you?’
He rolls his eyes. Nesta won’t come, but it’s so blunt. Cass will be devastated. It’ll be on him and Rhys to take him out and play wingman for him to get over it. Tomorrow. Probably two nights in a row. Everyone tells him not to be too long.
‘Don’t wait up for me,’ he says, taking the phone.
The kitchen still smells delightful. His stomach rumbles when he pulls the phone to his ear. Heavier than the old one. Different latch. On the other end, very little. Quiet. Fuzzy ringing.
‘Hello?’ he asks. Not seeing someone in front of him makes him ansty. No face to read. Things, hiding. Feelings in shadows between words.
‘Azriel. Good. I was beginning to think I had the wrong house.’ A pause. Infinitesimal. ‘Such a charming brother you have.’
Phone in hand. Squeezed around the grooves. Of the phone or his hands. They itch still. His whole body does this thing where it freezes, hardens. Temples fizzle. Melts a moment after, more like ice. Very slowly, he pushes the kitchen door to.
‘Have I stunned you to silence, Azriel?’
His mouth is very dry. ‘How—’ no, wrong question. Phone book. Two and two. Or, spoke to a guy. I know someone. Don’t worry about it. Yeah, no, we can find him. ‘Why?’
Bemused silence. Az can see the smile. The dimples. Freckles. Fucking freckles. Click of the tongue.
‘It’s the Solstice. Don’t you celebrate up there?’
Prick. His lips suddenly work to create noise. Unthinking noise. ‘Most people send a card.’
A little, exhaled laugh. ‘Should I be offended that you count me in with most people?’
Ball rolling now. ‘You can’t call the house.’
‘And yet.’
‘You still can’t.’
‘Not even for Solstice?’
‘Why do you even care?’ he hisses, hand hovering at the receiver. He’ll hang up. It’s easy. Just push down. Easier than talking.
‘Am I not allowed to care about you?’
‘Fuck off.’ Latch down.
Easy. Phone on the hook.
There, hands, really itching now, braced against the wall, alone in the kitchen—delicious smelling kitchen—Az waits a minute. Actually counts the seconds from one to two to three to four to—
Again goes the phone. Too fucking loud. Az snatches it.
‘Eris, you can’t call the fucking house.’
For just too long, the words hang.
‘Who’s Eris?’
Oh, gods spare him.
‘Nesta, I—’
‘No,’ she says sharply, ‘actually I don’t care. Tell Cassian I’ll see him later.’
Line dead.
Azriel, breathing a bit heavier than he’d like, places the phone back on its latch very carefully. Waits. One, two, three, four, five. Six. Seven. Eight. Shit.
How can he go back in—well, he can’t just yet, can he—or? He’s going to have to tell Cassian. Poor, poor man. He’ll leave dinner early just for her. Stumble around the city looking for her if she isn’t in her apartment.
Yes. Tell Cassian.
He can do that.
Should he?
What’s the alternative?
Die here in this kitchen? Bash his fucking head against the new marble counter? Wait for Eris to call back?
Azriel slips in through the door and closes it gently. They didn’t wait for him to start serving themselves, but they haven’t started eating. He takes his seat next to Rhys and Elain.
‘All good?’ Cass asks, fork in hand, eyeing up his chicken, salivating like he hasn’t eaten in days, not even sparing him a glance. ‘That guy sounded like a fucking asshole. Never heard an accent like that.’
Those potatoes are calling him. He shrugs, serves himself three, hm, four, and hands them to Elain who thanks him quietly. ‘Just someone from my classes. Wishing me a good Solstice.’
‘Someone who knows the home phone number?’ Rhys. Suspicious. Or curious.
‘No, I—’ take chicken next, Az— ‘sometimes, I use your name, in class.’ Not a lie. ‘He saw it in the phonebook. And yes, he’s an asshole.’
‘Well, if he bothers you again,’ Rhys’ mother says calmly, but firmly, ‘I’ll be happy to give him a few choice words.’
They all smile. ‘Thank you.’ Sweet. ‘He’ll think twice after that I’m sure.’
But conversation eased. Crisis? A little one. He needs to tell Cassian. He looks like he’s having fun over there with Feyre. Talking training. Technique. He should go back to the gym. Going soft. Rhys could floor him. Embarrassing; Rhys wears ties. Pull him aside, afterwards when they start drinking the fortified wine from the cellar. Nesta said she’ll see you later. Okay.
Compliments about the food get dished out, and Az has to agree that the stuffing this year is the best they’ve had for a while. Maybe since the time they got snowed in up in the cabin, remember that? Lina was there—she couldn’t make it this year, Rhys? No, she’s somewhere in Montesere. Got a boyfriend apparently. Oh, another one? Watch it. Rhys kicks Cassian under the table. Never know what your sister’s doing these days. She’ll be alright, Ma. I know. I just worry about you kids. They haven’t been up to the cabin for so long. Long gone are the days of snowball fights with Mor.
‘She isn’t coming either, I take it?’ he asks. ‘Mor, I mean?’
Feyre scoffs. ‘Keir’s got her tied up in work until Starfall.’
‘Oh, what a horrid little creature he is.’ Rhys’ mother should slow down on the wine. ‘Why your father ever went into business with him I do not know,’ she grumbles. Money, Az thinks. ‘That for a sire, bless her.’
All of them unlucky there.
Azriel looks over at Cassian again. This time, Cassian catches him. Subtle, he gives a look. Azriel, less so, frowns. Can’t tell you in front of everyone. Telepathically, he must understand. Rhys, of course, catches them in turn.
‘Do we think they’re speaking mind-to-mind or just having a staring contest?’
Cassian laughs. ‘We’re complaining about you, Rhysie. Can smell the three tubs of shoe polish you used from all the way over here.’ And they get into it. Az suddenly remembers to finish his potatoes.
‘Have you spoken to Nesta?’ He hears quietly beside him. Elain. Somehow she always knows. He jabs a potato.
‘She wants to meet Cassian later,’ he tells her, voice lower than a murmur, but she hears it. Always does. Always knows.
A wry smile. ‘Poor guy.’
A small smile of his own returned. ‘Have you not seen her?’
‘She’s never in. Or at least she pretends.’
‘I’m sorry, Elain.’
She waves him off a little, disguising it as a pushing around of food on her plate. ‘She’ll come around. It’s been hard for her. I just wish she and Cassian would… I don’t know. Settle. Or not. Decide one way or the other.’ Then a wince. ‘That feels like an awful thing to say. It’s hardly my business. I wouldn’t want her saying anything about me.’
He snaps his gaze towards her too heavily. ‘You and who?’ he asks. Tries to sound soft.
‘Oh—! I—I suppose I haven’t mentioned it, with you being away. No, I met someone. He came in for flowers one day and… anyway. He’s nice.’
‘But not here for Solstice.’
She shakes her head. ‘He doesn’t celebrate. He’s, uh, actually he’s one of Feyre’s friends. They studied down in Spring together.’
He tuts. ‘And she still speaks to him?’
‘Like I say, he’s nice.’
A silence settles between them. Too hefty to name.
‘I’m happy for you.’
Another soft, soft smile. She pats his hand. He stiffens.
‘You’ll get there, Az. These things have a funny way of finding us.’
*
One, two, three, four… Eris stamps out the fifth under a polished shoe on his mother’s back porch. And she said she was quitting. He debates it, then decides it doesn’t matter much anyway, and rolls another, thinking about the dimples on the back of Azriel’s shoulders when he flexes, and how he’ll need to wash his hair in the morning to get the smell of smoke out of it.
It’s all quiet out here—three-in-the-morning so why wouldn’t it be?—and he has only the chill in the air for company. It’s fine. Better than his brothers, some of them out in the town, probably not coming back until morning, afternoon, the whole day is perhaps preferable, some of them asleep. Lucien asleep. Because he doesn’t go out anymore. Some mystery girl he’s so cagey about. After Jesminda, he can hardly blame him.
The thought makes his next drag taste sour. It’s all fucking sour. Am I not allowed to care about you? Bitterer still.
The back door opens and shuts behind him.
‘I thought you were quitting.’
He glances back, but his mother is already sitting down next to him.
‘That makes two of us, doesn’t it?’ he says, handing over his lighter.
Like this, they could be friends. Just sixteen years between them. Just sixteen when he found her here the first time, fag hanging, an indictment, from her mouth. Tastes like it did back then, the whole thing; very, very sour.
‘Your father—’
‘Please, let’s not.’
She puffs smoke out into the dark shadow of the night, wisps of foul breath swirling. ‘I was only going to say that the doctors—’
Eris shoots her a look. ‘I don’t want to know.’
If he dies, Eris will learn of it. Until then, his father’s health means nothing to him. Cancer. Colon. Yes, sounds about right for him. The company board are hungry to replace him anyway, even if he recovers, and Eris knows they will pick him. For a stake. He hasn’t even graduated. Fuck. He takes a long, long drag, and presses the palms of his hands against his eyes and wills it to rid him of his three-day-long headache.
Someone else’s mother would comfort him now. A hand on the shoulder. A maternal word or two. Know some implicit way to try and help him like mothers do. His just keeps smoking, because she’s smarter than most people’s mothers. Of course, she’s also hardly his mother. Genetics. Hair. Jawline. Eye shape. Disposition for bad decisions. Bad choices of partner, that’s all.
‘What’s troubling you, Eris?’ But not that fucking smart, apparently. ‘Haven’t seen you in a mood like this for a while.’
He scoffs. ‘You haven’t seen me in a while, full stop.’
‘Well,’ she says, coughing a little, as though it were something that would catch her off-guard and not the truth, ‘whose fault is that?’
Eris just huffs a laugh. No. Barely a mother. Just a woman unlucky enough to be married to his father and have his children. ‘You live in the middle of nowhere, so.’
‘You used to be more creative with your excuses. I still remember when you—’
He squeezes his eyes shut very tightly so that he can hear it in his skull. ‘We don’t have to go down memory lane. Why are you up?’
He doesn’t really care, he just doesn’t want to talk about himself. Or anything.
‘I don’t sleep so well these days.’
‘Oh? Helion not knocking it out of you enough?’
‘That’s disgusting, Eris.’
He really wishes he’d just gone out somewhere to smoke. To drink. Or that he was back at university, fucking holidays, holed up in his room and reading case studies. Thinking about Criminal Procedure and pissing off his classmates by being right all the time. Thinking about whether Azriel is going to inconspicuously hang about outside his own class—something about the Federal Courts—so he can drag him to the library or take him to the green where he can look ridiculous and sun himself while Eris actually does work. Just, he wishes he were only thinking about Azriel, actually. Azriel is so much simpler than the rest. Sounds like an insult. Maybe it is.
He’d laugh, but Azriel doesn’t really laugh. He… smirks, turns up his lips, not a smile, but his eyes go bright, some shade of hazel, and Eris can tell.
Then he starts thinking about how completely fucked he is.
Of all people, some pretty Illyrian who piped up to bite his head off about the ethics of sectioning in the middle of a debate. Practically had him by the throat. Could’ve been anyone. But it’s not.
Headache tenfold.
Am I not allowed to care about you?
Gods above.
‘Who is she then? Important enough to leave dinner for.’ He snaps to look at his mother, who’s watching him with a half-smile. ‘It’s always a girl with you.’
It isn’t. It’s never been a girl with him, has it? That’s half the fucking problem.
‘That isn’t your concern,’ he tells her, finishing his cigarette. Stamping it out. Number six.
‘I’m your mother, Eris, of course it is.’
A wry smile. He stands, his joints stiff from sitting still so long. An hour, at least. ‘Goodnight.’
Her parting gift is one she’s given before. He can mouth the words along with the exact cadence that it leaves her. She likes to know things only when she knows Eris keeps them from her—ash in his throat. ‘You always were a spiteful boy, you know that?’
His hand stills on the door handle. He glances back at her, cigarette burning down between her slender fingers. Yes, that too they share. Pianist’s fingers.
Maybe she should have been a pianist and not a mother.
Maybe doesn’t fucking cut it. So sick of not knowing. Of vaguery. Of patience—is he even gay? Gods take his fucking headache.
‘Finally,’ he says to her, ‘there’s something you and father can agree on.’
And the dark look that comes across her face is so satisfying that it shakes the weight in his chest off for a moment. Just one, tiny, blissful moment.
She sucks on the cigarette like it’s the only thing she cares for. ‘You’re going to the gala tomorrow.’
How quickly she can move on.
‘So that’s why you came out here. Don’t ask me to play messenger,’ he spits.
‘Helion—’
‘Helion visits every weekend if you’ll hear Lucien tell it. Sometimes more.’
She scoffs. That too a commonality. ‘What would Lucien know? Like the rest of you, he’s never here.’
Eris laughs, because it is funny, really. ‘Hm, like father, like son,’ he says.
‘Careful.’ As though they aren’t all so careful already. Then she softens. ‘Just—send him my love, will you do that for me at least?’
His hand tightens around the door handle. ‘Call him yourself,’ he says. ‘I’m not a fucking errand boy.’
‘Like I say, spiteful.’ And she turns away, staring out into the trees which line the back of the garden.
Eris makes sure to slam the back door behind him, kicks at the kitchen island as he rounds it when he remembers she still has his lighter, and stews up every step to his bedroom where the wallpaper is still covered in silly drawings of dogs, painted by her hand.
Had a lot of fun and people in this corner of the fandom are soooo talented, it's incredible. Thanks so much for organizing 🖤🩷🖤
Day 7: Free Day
Is it lust? Is it violence? Attraction? Repulsion?
I recently saw Edvard Munch‘s The Bite on tumblr and thought: Azriiiiissss!!! and wanted to see if I could play with the reference a bit to get looser in my drawings.
Sketching digitally didn‘t work for me; sometimes I just need a thick marker and a fountain pen. I don‘t know if I will come back to it but I love looking at other people‘s rough sketches. So, here‘s one from me.
Art created by: @hornysadfrog who really went above and beyond for this. It took me a long time to take my jaw off the floor!! Her Eris is one of my most favorites. He’s so regal and lovely I could cry. Little frog you are a light in this fandom and I appreciate you so much!
A gift commissioned by me for @pippsmcgee and her word vomit in my DMs over the years about the wonderful stories in her brain. Even if you never write them I will cherish your talent for speaking them into existence anyway.
If it wasn't for you and your tenacious comments on my fics, I would have never gotten back on Tumblr, and I would have never met any of the wonderful people in this tiny corner of the fandom. I will forever be thankful for that and you. Your handle is all over ao3 in all the Azris comment sections passing out love and thoughtfulness that make it worthwhile for writers to post! Your amazing imagination is on my mind all of the time so I hope this gift is a reflection of that. 🖤🖤
Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train:
It's finally here! Book III: Therapon & Thetis - A burgeoning relationship, a mother’s love. Just in time for @azrisweek free day.
Catch up on the series, read a snippet below, or read the entire chapter on AO3!
The floor beneath his knees was hard and uneven where Azriel knelt. His eyes traced the dust that scuttled across the rough hewn stone.
“Father, I have come to ask your pardon.” Though he did not see it, Azirel felt Eris’s eyes as they cast over his freckled shoulder, exposed just slightly beneath his tunic, to gaze briefly at his form.
“What have you done?” Azriel felt the harsh question land like a blow.
“I was remiss in informing Amphidamas that I had taken Azriel as my Therapon, and that he will only train with me.”
Though his eyes remained on the sand slowly trickling by in the gentle breeze from the open stone arches, Azriel felt the hostility radiating from the throne and the man atop it. Through the oppressive animosity, he could not help but savor the way his name had sounded off Eris’s tongue. Instead of letting it roll together in a hurry to be rid of the sound, he rang each syllable: Az-ree-el. The relishment did not last long.
“This boy has a stain upon him, Eris. You are to be a god! For years I have urged companions on you. Again and again you have denied me this.” The anger in each word beat down upon Azriel like the sun's rays on the hottest summer day, burning his soul instead of his skin. “Why.” The word was a demand, for answer, not a query. There was no choice but to answer.
Eris did not shy away. Azriel heard him step forward, sandaled footsteps echoing as they moved away from him across the sand-dusted rocks.
“He is surprising.”
Finish the chapter on AO3.
Let me know if you want on or off the taglist! @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @bubybubsters @queercontrarian @yams-77 @fieldofdaisiies @iftheshoef1tz @secret-third-thing @jules-writes-stories @the-darkestminds @climbthemountain2020 @amalhe-kofee @molcat07 @sleepyy-ollie @astra-aeterna @popjunkie42 @tegantales
Art created by: @werehorsebite ! Your art is so beautifully vibrant, I just knew when you got LD that you would be able to bring her visceral scenes to life. I really loved this story and was so happy you picked it because they are just so deliciously sad and bloody and full of angst here! The details are incredible!
A gift commissioned by me for @acourtofladydeath and her story A Wound so Deep - The quiet, almost desolate hope in this story stuck in me like a thorn. I’m so glad to have it under my skin!
Ahhh! You're sweet, kind, and adorable, human! Your Azris, even when it hurts so much, is such a soft place to land for me. The pain is always worth it for the beauty you wrap it in. All of your work has an importance that's hard for me to explain. It just feels so necessary, the amount of thoughtfulness and care you put into everything you do really shows, and we are all the luckier for it! Plus, the tireless efforts you made to create safe and fun spaces did not go unnoticed, and I am so glad to have met you and been a part of it. Here's to all your talent you've gifted us Azris junkies! To whatever you put your talents toward in the future, I hope it fills you with such peace and love and community!
Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train:
Here are some sketches/progress photos and a timelapse! Thanks again to @chunkypossum for commissioning me! And to @secret-third-thing for writing a fic that was insanely good (Leave My Body to the Earth) <3
[Originally this was a reblog but I wanted to post the speedpaint so here we are! Tumblr still insists only the 30 sec video is acceptable but it's better than nothing:]
Thank you so much for organizing this week full of all my favorite things. Thank you to the showrunners, to the writers and artists, the commentators, and rebloggers. I'm so thankful for you all!
We're not done yet. I still have a couple more creator shoutouts to do, so stick around until the very end!
Anger seemed out of Azriel's reach. He tried to grasp for it anyway, but the trees were in him. They sang an ancient song that rattled his singer bones and made his eyes leak gemstone tears. The land was asking for his knife, as if he still had something left to offer.
Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train:
This piece was originally gonna be for @fanartfrenzy way back in January, for the bingo square “make fanart for a fic that features an Original Character”, but obviously that didn’t happen, so I repurposed it for @azrisweek !
It’s based on a scene in Chapter 5, Congress of Weapons Manufacturers and Military Leaders, in stellar fic “Taming of the Vanserra” by the iconic @futurehunt ! One of my fav azris fics of all time fr fr (FUTUUUURE drop another chapter and my LIFE is YOURS) (jk obviously take your time). Future’s OC that I decided to focus on is Larssen, pictured here being a cheeky little shit and facing the immediate consequences, but obviously I had to give a lotta love to the main pairing of the fic, so I figure it still works for the event week😜
I reaaally wanted to get the part 2 finished for today as well but that obviously didn’t happen so knowing me it’ll probably take another 5 months. Anyways. Please ignore the 1 million tangent lines. Also side not, this is maybe my favorite Eris Outfit I’ve ever drawn. Shoutout to futurehunt for describing him so HAWT. Whew. Thank you future, for making such a fun and engaging and just downright COOL fic! I will have a part 2 one day!
Thank you so much to the mods of azris week for putting on yet another fantastic event!! I look forward to this every year and I feel so lucky to be amongst such amazing writers and artists not just this week, but all year round. Yall are seriously a one of a kind community and I’m so glad to have gotten to know some of you, and excited to meet those I haven’t yet!
LOOK BIRTHDAY BUDDIES! It's @theiudices birthday today and it was @secret-third-thing birthday just last week! Everyone wishes them both a happy, wonderful birthday and a long life full of all their favorite things!!
Art created by: @theiudices her work is so full of ethereal beauty and a specific kind of whimsy that when I saw this I screamed! Her talent and kindness are a wonder and I’m so glad she was a part of this project.
A gift commissioned by me for @secret-third-thing and her story Leave My Body to the Earth I just ate all of this up when you posted it and I hunger for more!
First, you should know that the craft of your writing is an inspiration but it’s also just such a freaking wild joy to read. You are a master of your art, even if you can't possibly believe that to be true, and I am so very excited to see where it takes you! The creativity and spark that you gave Azris while leading our teeny little community was such a gift, and I am so happy to witness all the work you put into everything that you do. The way you inject this fandom with such whimsy is incomparable, matchless and so desperately needed. You are strong and wonderfully weird, helping to remind us all what it is to have fun here! Thank you for everything you have done and all you will continue to do for yourself, for fandom and for anyone who is lucky enough to read your writing.
Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train:
Raivis, the second son of Beron, oh my awful angsty demon
Getting more portraits of my OCs done!! This dude needed the darkest, cruelest looking frame ever but with the coldest more contemplative face to really show his plotting nature 😚
Censored for Tumblr, but honestly, I think this version has its merits too 🍊
I've been working on this piece off and on for the past year, and Azris week has given me the final push to get this done!! Thank you to everyone in the Azris community who have seen snippets of this as it's come along.
So many thanks to the @azrisweek admins for putting this event on. This entire week has been a huge pleasure, both as a reader and as a creative.
Check out my Patreon if you want to check out the process video.
Art created by: @froggybogwitch whose talent is inspiring! After I saw the finished piece I had to go lie down.
A gift commissioned by me for @jules-writes-stories and her story Held Close, Like a Secret which also just happens to be chapter 8 of her legendary Azris longfic - Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows! JEL is giving "Azris week day 6: Lonely together" LOL
My darling. Your work brings me so much joy, and it is such an honor to know you. I had so much to say about this chapter when you posted it! I scrumpt a lot of screams and whined about how lovely it was for weeks! The voice you give them is so powerful and poetic, and Azris wouldn't be the same without your efforts. Thank you for always being a fun and uplifting voice in this community and for all you do to move it forward. Your silliness is one of the best parts of my day! Forever wishing that your creative journey is full of excitement and fun for always!
Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train:
My brain has been full of Heated Rivalry for months, so I had no choice but to make it as an AU for Azriel and Eris, lol. This is purely self-indulgent, but I'm probably not alone in thinking it's a good idea, so here you are!
Title is obviously from "Bad Things" by Cailin Russo ❤️
Summary: Azriel has kept away from rival hockey player Eris Vanserra for two years, but for some reason his resolve is cracking. Eris, on the other hand, has been pushing to reconnect just as long, and he is set on finally getting what he wants. Which is Azriel.
Elise: How many times can you come in an hour?
Ariel: The fuck is wrong with you
Ariel: We're about to play a game against each other!!!!!!
Elise: [attached: selfie of a shirtless Eris, his hockey gear with nr 11 Vanserra visible in the visitor's stall behind him]
Elise: Duh
Seen
Elise: If you won't tell me, I'll just have to come over and find out
Elise: Really test the limits of your body
Elise: You can log it as exercise on that sponsored watch of yours
Ariel: …
Ariel: Idk, a couple times if I'm really into it
Elise: 😈
Elise: You will be
Azriel stared at his phone open-mouthed, his face a hot mess.
"Whatchu looking at?" Cassian asked from the stall beside him.
Quickly closing his mouth, Azriel glanced down at him, at the tape he was wrapping around his stick. He was suddenly grateful to be wearing a jockstrap.
"Nothing."
Cassian grinned. "Whoever it is, tell them I said hello."
"Fat chance," Azriel mumbled. Just as he was about to put his phone down, it buzzed again. He didn't even have time to talk himself out of checking it before he confirmed it was Eris Vanserra again.
Elise: Are you as hard as I am right now?
Azriel slammed his phone down so hard the screen might have broken. His ears were ringing. No way in hell was he gonna tell Vanserra yes.
