#chunkyasks

My favorite time of the year.

@azrisweek !!!

🖤🖤🖤Thank you for giving us a space to obsess more than usual. 🖤🖤🖤

And for putting this questionnaire together. If YALL want to fill out your own, which I would love to see all the Azris freaks do… you can find it here

What drew you to Azris?

A sirens call. 

 2. What themes do you explore most often in your fics? Do you have a favorite image or location to return to again and again?

Sacrifice is always a big one; love and survival (mostly) against all odds; I just like to put them in the most challenging situations I can imagine and see them succeed despite me. Even when they don’t, they still have each other. 

 3. If you could only write one, which would you choose: Fluff or Angst? Yes, you must choose one.

ANGST 

 4. Favorite Azris AU? Why?

Ohhhh there are so many good ones. 

Some of my favorite AUs come from

@iftheshoef1tz - AO3

@jules-writes-stories - AO3

@ysmtttty AO3

 5. Name a favorite Azris fic/art that you've created.

Why?

My favorite fic of mine is always the one I’m writing at the time, so Carve Me Open, right now. Though, Kerosene is my first and while it’s a mess I do love her dearly and probably the most. 

My favorite Azris art so far is probably:

Click here for the full piece 

 6. Do you have a favorite ACOTAR pairing other than Azris?

Canon probably Nessian (though I have my woes); non canon, I fucks with Neris, and anything weird. 

 7. Have you worn wigs?

 8. Will Eris ever wear wigs?

If @the-darkestminds is writing him he might have to. 

 9. What are some of your favorite head cannons about Azriel? Eris?

I have many and most of them are sad. Go figure. Here’s a (bitter)sweet one:

I’ve actually spent way too much time thinking about how Eris fell in love with Azriel because of his gentleness. He’s never at the receiving end of it but he notices. Over time, as he spends more time with his new allies he sees it over and over. The careful way Azriel hovers near Mor, protecting her, or the easy brush of his hand against Rhysands back when they talk. Eris notices how Azriel affectionately grabs at Cassian’s shoulder or the back of his head. He sees it when Azriel treats Elain like glass, or how he hugs Nesta and his High Lady, and especially when he gets glassy-eyed, with a soft smile when someone asks him about his mother. Each time he sees it, something chips away at Eris. Watching the fierce warrior who has never been anything but angry and hostile toward him, melt around those he cares about makes him ache.At first it makes him rage inside. Knowing it was possible for someone so hateful to have such a sweet and soft true nature. Reminding Eris of how brutally his father treats him and how he has always harbored a secret wish that Beron was capable of gentleness too, that he wouldn’t always want to hurt his family. When the ice between him and Azriel starts to thaw it’s impossible for him not to notice when his wings subtly shift to block the sun from Eris’ eyes. He can’t help but fixate on the playful but achingly light touch of their shoulders as they walk side by side. The first time their knuckles brush Eris was pretty sure he was going to burst into flames on the spot. Before he knows what’s happening, he starts to want to belong.  

Azriel didn’t know he was seeing Eris any differently until he heard his laugh. After all the time spent spying on him, Azriel had only ever heard him cackle in sick amusement at someone else’s expense. He had never heard him laugh. Something shattered in him in that moment. He tried desperately to put himself back together and ignore that new fragile part of himself, pushing as much of his former hate towards the male as he could and almost hurts Eris irreparably because of it. 

   10. Why do Eris and Azriel deserve each other?

WHERE DO I START?!?!? 

first, thier colors, cobalt and orange, at complimentary on the color wheel. 

They are broken in mirror wasys and can relate to one another in a way that no one else can 

They are set up specifically to compliment each other’s traumas in a way where only the other could provide what they need to heal from it

  11. How do you find inspiration for your creations?

(It could be music, other creators---anything!)

I get a lot of inspo from music. Catch me listening to me “Hurt Me” Playlist all day long! 

12. Have you ever felt creatively blocked? How have you overcome it?

I give myself space and refuse to come back to something until I get excited for it again. I will read or create in other ways while I rest my Azris brain so I can come back refreshed and ready to go hard! 

13. Any advice for a content creator who is working yuts to share/post for the first time?

14. Are you a long or short-haired Eris truther? Yes, you can only pick one.

I only NEED to pick one. LONG HAIR!!! 

15. If you could choose one court to live in Prythian, which would it be and why?

I want to say autumn becuase it’s Autumn BUT honestly the Dawn Court seems the most chill and innovative. Though, the Day Court has similar vibes and all those libraries! 

16. Azriel and Eris are having a silly disagreement. Something about socks on the floor, or dirty mugs in the sink. Maybe someone forgot to let the smokehounds out. Who are you more likely to side with?

Eris probably picked the fight to begin with just to be petty so I’m going to side with Azriel. He and I are very similar in our thoughts on self-worth, etc., so I feel like I need to be in his corner. 

17. Who has a worse temper: Azriel or Eris?

Azriel for sure. The High Lords meeting was so damning. lol. 

18. What are some WIPs or ideas that you're excited about?

I will finish carve me open this year!!! Then I plan on finishing up all the other little things I have left open-ended so I can get to two more new fics I am very excited to write. 

Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train:

Lemon glow bcs its my fav beach house song

It took me a hot minute to realize you were saying, N: The color green

U: Coming home

S: Music

... and not asking me to write about you. LOL

You didn't specify, so I assumed Azris.

Verdant walls thick with moss, but your back is pressed against unforgiving stone. It cuts into the places I want my teeth, the places I try to get my teeth. I cannot reach. 

Like it knows your heart, the flame of your hair curls around the jagged walls and reaches for the moss, for a softer landing. You want me to reach for you, to hold you. The look in your eyes tells me so. I ignore it.  

Held in place by your thighs, my fingers dig into the meat of them. When you bleed, I will drink from you. That’s the softest promise I can make. 

Your pupils are dark, heavy where they linger on my lips. They ask a question I can’t answer. Not here inside the shadows of our secrets. 

But I want. 

Shame is a lustful creature that wraps around my throat. Offended by my thoughts, agonized by the air I stir with each breath, it squeezes. The desire inside me feels like destruction. My stare dips down to where your lips part, the tip of your tongue tasting them, asking me if I want to. I don’t answer. 

The inside of you is a closeness that I am not afraid of, a heat I chase rather than shy away from. It welcomes all of me.

When the light of dusk spills through the cracks in the ceiling where the water cascades down, streams of citrus fall in glittering waves over your face. It strikes me that we cannot hide in the dark forever. My shadows retreat behind outstretched wings, and I close the space between us. 

You taste like dreams, and I shatter. 

Honey pours from me. 

A sweet nectar made from the pieces of you I’ve collected, like bits of pollen hidden between the petals of something much softer than the words you like to sharpen. I fill you with it, then warmth spills onto me, your fire flowing out of you with a soft cry. 

Now I know what I wish had remained a secret. 

I belong I belong I belong.

Updated tag list for 2026. If I added or removed you by mistake, as always, just holla at ya boi to be taken off or put on. 

For your mini game fic may I request Azriel and the letter U ??

Thanks! I think it will shape up nicely.

U: Coming Home

I think I misunderstood the assignment. The word mini was probably just a suggestion, right?

Here's 2400 words of Azriel being sort of sad, but mostly happy.

Azriel ghosted the tips of his fingers over the package in front of him. The small Onyx box felt warm under his ice-cold touch. He was resting his head in the crook of his elbow, staring at it from where it sat on his desk. 

For the better part of an hour, he had been pacing his room with the box moving from his hand to his pocket, to the void between worlds, and back into his hand again. The longer he held it, the more it seemed to burn in his palm. A part of him wanted to throw it in the Sidra and be done with it.

Now it was sitting on his desk, mocking him. 

Azriel let out an annoyed puff of air, nudging the little thing with his fingers. 

“Still sulking?” A velvet smooth voice asked from behind him. 

“I’m not sulking.” He replied, turning to see Rhys leaning casually in his doorway as if he belonged there. 

Those violet eyes caught sight of the box and lingered there for a moment before turning their attention to Azriel.  With a sigh, Azriel stood up from his chair and sat on the edge of his desk instead, effectively hiding the box from view. 

At the sight of Rhys’s raised eyebrow, Azriel crossed both his ankles and his arms, leveling a bored look at his brother. His mental shields were tight, but he silently begged his brother not to mention it anyway.

Azriel’s muscles were tight, expecting the worst. 

“I can’t believe we won’t see you tonight, Az.” 

“I’ve already told Feyre Happy Birthday and given her the gift I bought for her.” He started to explain defensively. He had been expecting this, but it was still tiring. “And-“ 

“Relax, Az. I’m not here to scold you. I just wanted to say goodbye and Happy Solstice." 

There was something sad in his eyes, and Azriel felt immediately guilty. 

“I’m sorry, Rhys.” He blew out a breath. “I’m just a little on edge.” 

“I know just…” Rhys worried his bottom lip, looking past Azriel toward the window. Starlight glinted off the silver sheen in his eyes. “Don’t think you can’t talk to me about … anything.” 

It was very rare that Rhys fumbled over his words, and the sight made Azriel want to snort with laughter. Then he felt the weight of what the shadows deposited into his pocket and felt nausea rise in his throat instead. 

“Yeah, Rhys. I know.” 

His High Lord shook off whatever melancholy had settled across his shoulders and let a smile bloom on his face. 

When they clasped hands over each other’s arms, Rhys asked, “Off to Rosehall then?” 

Azriel nodded. 

“Bringing a gift?” His eyes flicked down to Azriel’s pocket like he could see through the layers to what was inside that box. 

“Course.” He mumbled, moving to step past the other male. 

“You’ll tell her I said hi?” 

“You know I will.” 

“And that, despite what you tell her, it’s you who works me to death, not the other way around. 

Azriel rolled his eyes. 

“Goodbye, Rhys.” He shoved his brother playfully and moved out into the hallway.  

“Bye, Az.” He heard Rhys murmur as the shadows swept him away. 

Cold wind whipped at his face, and Azriel tucked his wings in tight. Out here in the middle of nowhere, the winter was unforgiving, and the last thing he needed was getting air caught underneath them. If he pulled a muscle trying to keep them from being ripped off, Azriel was going to be pissed. 

It wasn’t until he made it past Rhys’s barrier that he let his muscles relax. Ensconced in warmth, Azriel shrugged off his coat and walked inside the small cottage. It was surrounded by a lush garden that stayed in perpetual bloom, protected by the High Lord’s magic. Azriel never did have the heart to ask Rhys if it was real or just an illusion. He could see the flowers, smell them, and even touch them; that was real enough.

Once inside, he took off his boots and shuffled into the kitchen. For the next few minutes, he bathed in ritual. As Azriel let the kettle come to a boil on the stove, he ran his fingers over the altar and remembered the last time he was here. It had been too long since the last visit. 

“Hey, Mom.” A genuine smile flashed across his face, making his cheeks hurt. “I brought something new to try today. You’ll like it, I promise.” 

With that, Azriel set about clearing the altar and resetting it, making sure to set out enough plates for the bread Elain had baked for him as well as the cookies from Cassian. 

“I can’t vouch for the sweets.” He said with a grin. “But the rest of it is very good.” 

Carefully pouring four cups of tea, Azriel settled on the carpet and turned his attention to the portrait at the end. 

“Elain is trying to teach your son how to bake, but it’s not going well. I’m sure you can imagine.”  

Next, his gaze settled on the portrait in the middle, smirking. “He sends his love.” 

The shadows dropped something in his lap

“Right. I thought you might want these.” He placed two small paintings next to the portrait of Rhys’s mother. One of Rhys and Feyre together, and the other of Nyx. 

Just like the portraits of the three females in front of him, Azriel had asked Feyre to paint these for him.

Rhys’s Mother had been a simple task. Between Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys, her memory was alive and strong, so Feyre had plenty to work with. His mother's portrait was a little more difficult. Though he did have some memories of her, most were hazy at best, and there weren't many people left who remembered her when she was young and vibrant, which is what Azriel wanted painted. That's how he wanted to see her every time he came for a visit.  

What had been most difficult was finding people who remembered Cassian's mother. She had lived a hard life, and since Cassian had killed all of those responsible for his mother's pain, it made finding a trail of her memory almost impossible. They got lucky eventually, and the portrait they repainted felt right even though he had never met the female. Cassian had her eyes and her bright smile. 

Though this place was just for Azriel, his brother knew the painting existed. Feyre had even given him a copy, but Azriel was not convinced Cassian had ever looked at it. Some things were just too painful. It was a good thing he now had Nesta to lean on if he ever did decide to look at it.

There was no telling what the others thought about him coming out here to sit with the three of them. Likely, they didn’t care, but he had never asked outright for fear they wouldn't understand. Though Rhys maintained this place for him, had created it for him, he sometimes saw a hint of worry flash across his brother's face whenever Azriel announced he would be visiting. Maybe that's why he had not come in such a long time.

Though only his mother was buried here, he could imagine the other two females coming by to visit often. Now that he was sitting here letting his heart rest, Azriel remembered how much he loved it. There was such a sense of peace that came with caring for their memorials and altar spaces. He enjoyed talking to them and catching them up on all of their lives. It soothed the jagged edges of his tired soul.

"There is someone… New.“ He started, slightly apprehensive. “Well, they are not new, but this … feeling is.” Azriel swallowed. The words were stuck. It was ridiculous that he couldn’t even talk about it here, of all places. 

Rhys had this place made for him after the war. After the male became High Lord, Azriel sought out news of his mother. While his father had been High Lord, it had been impossible to search, even with his shadows. There was no good news to be found at the other end of that search. 

Cassian’s anger about the discovery of what happened to his mother had been violent and deadly, but what Azriel had done, he still couldn’t talk about. Not even Azriel fully understood the depths of his abilities as a Shadowsinger, and that day he learned that not knowing came at a terrible price. 

Rhys found him in the aftermath and did his best to cover it up for him. After memories were wiped and the land was abandoned, Rhys had this place built. It took Azriel a long time to be able to even set foot here, knowing his soul could never be whole again. Now it had become somewhere he could soothe the mangled pieces of himself when life got too heavy. 

“You would like them. They’re…” Nice? No. Nice would never be a word he could use to describe them. The thought made Azriel smile. 

No. Not nice but … “Kind. They’re kind.” 

For the next hour, he just talked and sipped at his tea. No one had ever heard him like this, not even his brothers. If Azriel’s family could see how animated he was now, they would probably all keel over from shock. 

His mother had been the only person he had ever wanted to be this open and vulnerable with. That was until he found himself at the center of someone else's universe, trapped by the weight of all they meant to him. It was inescapable, but somehow felt more natural than anything else ever had. How far they had come, and here Azriel was about to push for more.

As he told his mother about them, Azriel toyed with the small box in his hand that had somehow migrated out of his pocket while he talked. It felt heavier than it had just a few hours ago, and, more than anything, he wished his mother were here to see the gift and tell him what she thought of it.

That could never happen, so, standing, he stretched his cramped limbs and wings.

"That's where I'm going now,” he said to her. “It's the first solstice I've spent apart from everyone.“ That thought alone made him want to throw up.

Was he doing the right thing?

“You are the closest thing I've ever felt to home.” Azriel sighed. “I love the family I have built, but there has always been something missing. I think I have finally found what that was.” 

Home. 

Velaris had been home in a sense, but now that he was facing down a future he was too scared to say how much he wanted, Azriel wondered if he ever truly understood what home was meant to be. 

He took his time cleaning up and arranging his offerings exactly how he liked them. Perhaps he was stalling a bit. 

When his boots were back on, Azriel gave his mother and the others one final goodbye, then stepped into his shadows. A step closer to everything he ever wanted, a step closer to home. 

A moment later, the chill from the void was quickly swept away by the warmth from a fire in the hearth. The only fire he had ever been able to trust. That alone should've clued him in to how he felt much sooner than it had. 

He slipped off his boots once again and padded over to the figure asleep on the couch, careful to avoid piles of hounds littering the path. Lit by the orange and gold glow of the flames, Azriel was struck by how beautiful the male looked, more beautiful than he could ever put into words. His heart clenched at the sight.

Azriel exhaled and felt every muscle in his body relax, the tension melting away now that he was here. He leaned over the back of the couch and kissed a pale, freckled temple that felt as smooth as silk under his lips. 

“You’re late.” The smoky timber of that voice, still dressed in sleep, somehow never seemed to lose its snark. 

“Sleep.” He shushed, placing another kiss, this time against that warm, supple throat. The scent he inhaled made his knees wobble, but still somehow gave him the courage to crawl onto the couch, positioning them both until Azriel was stretched out, slotting his lover between his legs. 

The solid weight of those muscles lying on top of him settled his racing heart. Before he knew what he was doing, Azriel placed the small onyx box he had been carrying around all day onto his chest. A glowing amber eye cracked open at the movement and just stared in silence. 

It wasn't until he opened the hinged lid that both of those golden eyes met his, wide with shock. He felt the heartbeat on top of his begin to beat faster and faster in anticipation. Slowly, so very slowly, Azriel picked up the ring that was resting on that black velvet and slipped it effortlessly on a waiting finger, never breaking their stare. 

They looked at the ring where it sat, and Azriel followed their gaze. It looked like it had always been there, like it had always meant to be there. When those eyes met his again, all of the gold had nearly been swallowed by the black of blown-out pupils. 

Azriel's breath caught, and before either of them could say a word, pillow-soft lips surged for his, and they lost themselves in each other for countless hours. Clothes came off gently, reverently, and teeth and tongue nipped and tasted every inch of newly revealed skin.

As they moved inside each other, reaching and reaching and reaching, Azriel felt everything fall into place. He gasped into the feel of it, crying out every time he shattered, and running his scarred, rough hands over every smooth surface, unable to get enough. 

As whatever they were forging together solidified between them, Azriel felt the truth of it. It shone bright and unwavering, hollowing him out and filling him back up with something new and so, so real. The power of it beckoned him forward, daring him to fall further, deeper. 

So he did, knowing that he had come home at last.

Beautiful dividers by @olenvasynyt !!

Updated tag list for 2026. If I added or removed you by mistake, as always, just holla at ya boi to be taken off or put on. 

Oh that's a good one. I: Broken glass

I'm scared. Perhaps we should all be.

TW: Torture

1400 words

Eris + a touch of Azris

(You should know that I went through several options during brainstorming and THIS is the one I ended up with, but look what you could have had: Mirror - self hate, Window- suspense, Bottle- drunk/sad, Fight scene, Au - dropping something meet cute )

“I thought I told you to leave.” Silence answered him.  He would never admit to it, but Eris had hoped the male would regret the way he left and come back. Still, he refused to turn around and give Azriel the satisfaction. 

A brush of shadow across the nape of his neck nearly made him shiver, but Eris remained still as stone, waiting. It was an insistent touch that left a trail of pebbled flesh in its wake. If he had not been so focused on not giving in, Eris might have noticed that it was far too warm to be a wisp of familiar shadow.  

“Just go,” he said again, a little bit too soft, too wounded. “It’s over, Shadowsinger. You made that perfectly clear.” 

A dark chuckle landed heavily in his ears, and Eris went rigid. He felt his face drain of color as the glass of whiskey he had been holding shattered on the floor at his feet. A broken heart had been his only worry just moments ago; now he knew something far worse prowled in the dark corners behind him.

“Father -” 

“Quiet.” 

Good training had his jaw snapping shut instantly, head downcast. Eris watched as a tiny stream of liquor inched toward his bare feet. 

“Look at me.” The command bent bone and twisted muscle, forcing Eris to turn and face Beron. His eyes were the last to obey, and it cost him. 

He didn’t see the fist coming. 

Pain exploded around his eye, and Eris was sent straight to the ground. He groaned, trying to move before the next bit of punishment, but he was too dizzy. A hand wrapped around his braid and pulled his head back until he could see the amusement playing on his father’s mouth. 

“You’ve been bad, bad, bad, Eris.” He tsked, crooning as if he were talking to a toddler who had tracked mud on the carpet. “Don’t fight this.” 

The whisper of his father’s words slid along the shell of his ear, making his stomach churn. 

Panting like a panicked animal, Eris’s hand closed around the first thing he touched. When Beron hauled him to his feet, Eris screamed, thrashing out wildly. An invisible force wrapped around his wrist, halting his movements. The broken glass clutched tightly in his fist was only a scant distance from his father’s eye, Eris’s own blood dripping from his fingers. 

Flames danced in Beron’s eyes, glinting off the shard of glass as a smile curled his lips. Eris went cold as the sound of his father’s steady heartbeat began to sound like a countdown. 

“Shadowsinger.” The word was a purr on Beron’s lips. Eris had to fight a gag. “A few centuries too late, but perhaps it’s time I dropped a gift onto the Night Court’s stoop, to return the favor.”

He opened his mouth to protest, to scream, to hurl an insult, Eris didn’t know. He never got the chance. With lightning-quick speed, Beron’s hand wrapped tightly over his son’s mouth, slamming the back of his head into the wall, and everything went black. 

When Eris came to, he was on his knees. Both of his arms were stretched almost to breaking on either side of him, tied to posts, and his head was sagging toward the ground. At first, he wasn’t sure what brought him back to consciousness, then fire lanced across his back. Eris cried out, the muscles in his back contracting against the pain. It happened again only a few moments later, and again, and again, not allowing him to catch his breath.  Over and over, something sliced deep into his flesh, a dull throbbing left in its wake. 

“I’m disappointed in you, Eris. Attacking your father with a shard of broken glass like some common bar waif.” Beron drawled from somewhere behind him. “Though I admit, the look does suit you.” 

Every movement felt like it should have been his last as Eris tried to lie very still on the cold, hard ground where his father’s men had left him. Only allowing himself sips of air to keep his breathing shallow, he became dizzy quickly, and when the rain started, Eris thought he would pass out again from the pain. 

A low wail vibrated out of his throat and past his lips. It was an uncontrollable moan that reminded him of desperate and dying things. Death felt like a mercy just out of reach. 

Time passed by, but he could not keep track. Eventually, a low murmur of angry voices surrounded him. Eris blinked, eyes focusing on a head crowned with gold. 

“Nobody touch him.” Mor sneered. “Isn’t that what you told your men all those years ago?” 

“Enough.” The word was a quiet, deadly command. “Get out of my way, Mor.” 

Shadows blanketed him, and the sounds and textures of the forest were replaced with soft linen and blissful quiet. 

Once settled, Eris heard the stopper being uncorked from a bottle, something medicinal wafting toward him.

“Wait.” Eris heard himself say from a great distance. It was almost as if he wasn’t in his own body. “I want to see what he did to me.”

Azriel paused where his hand had been hovering over Eris’s back, undoubtedly looking for a place to start. 

“You shouldn’t.” 

“Help me up,” Eris demanded, voice raw from screaming. 

Azriel paused, and Eris wasn’t sure he would do as he was told. In the end, the male relented, helping Eris to his feet. Black spots seemed permanently etched into the edges of his vision, and several times, Eris thought he wasn’t going to make it to wherever Azriel was leading him. 

In the end, it was just a few steps to the vanity in the corner of the room. Azriel set him down, back facing the mirror, and handed him a second one to hold in his hand. Shaking, Eris lifted the mirror until his back was in full view. He knew what he was going to see but was somehow still unprepared for it. Silver moonlight danced off the edges of thousands of perfectly placed shards of glass embedded in his back. 

“My father’s punishments have always been creative, but he really put on quite the show this time.” He couldn’t keep his voice from wobbling. “It’s a work of art, is it not?” 

“Eris.” The sound of his name in Azriel’s mouth made him crazy. It was so soft and yielding. The exact opposite of the last time he heard it. 

Something about that was terribly funny, and Eris couldn’t stop himself from laughing. It started as a quiet chuckle, more sardonic than anything, but once he started, he couldn’t seem to stop. Tears blurred his vision, and what had grown into a hysterical, unending rage of laughter, transformed until great heaving sobs wracked his whole body. 

“It hurts,” he said, still in between that disturbing laughter and genuine sadness. “It hurts so much.” 

By the look Azriel was giving him, Eris knew the male understood he was talking about so much more than his injuries. 

The feel of rough skin on his face startled Eris, and when he looked up, hazel eyes stared back at him, unforgivingly beautiful. The colors swirled like dappled light bouncing between branches in the Autumn canopy, winking playfully in the breeze. For a moment, he felt no pain at all. 

“You’re safe now,” Azriel promised with that quiet intensity he was known for. The hands that had gripped his face softened until they were cradling him. “And I am going to take care of you. I promise.” 

Eris stared at him for a long time, something passing between them that didn’t need words. Eventually, Eris decided he could trust that promise and tried hard not to think about whether or not he even had a choice after his father threw him out like garbage. He nodded almost imperceptively, but that was all the confirmation Azriel needed. 

The male got up and turned away from him, no doubt to call in his High Lord, but Eris was afraid of being left alone again, and his hand shot out without permission to take hold of Azriel’s tunic. He regretted it immediately as a smugness rolled off Azriel in waves, but didn’t let go.  

Eris glanced up at Azriel, who turned quickly away from him, but before he had, Eris swore he saw a slight curve of the male’s normally stoic lips. 

It was an effort not to smile back. An effort that Eris failed. 

For 6 & 12, please!!

Listen… as far as satosugu #6 goes… do I need to even say anything??

Gojo wore his dead boyfriend’s sweater so much he stretched out the neck.

For Azris I think Azriel is more openly sentimental. He would have something small though, a torn piece of red cape tied around his wrist or something. But he would surely lose his mind the day it falls off.

Eris would have a shirt but it would be locked away where he tries not to think about it, only pulling it out in the darkest days so that it can smell like Azriel for a little longer. The day it Bo longer carries his scent, Eris will have to start his mourning process all over again.

Number 12

Satosugu- I struggle here bc both of them went to such great lengths NOT to accidentally kill people they were close to. In jjk 0 Gojo only went after Miguel and only to stop him, never to kill, and Geto even left Maki alive.

Azriel reacts more emotionally and I can see him accidentally offing someone in the heat of a battle. There are a lot of Vanserra brothers and their mother has been hurt before bc of the Night Court’s temper.

now im the first person to lick ur new blog

Thank you!

K: On the edge of consciousness

You know me so well 😈😈

Divider by @olenvasynyt

There was no coming back from this. Eris thought as the horror of what was about to happen to him fully sank in. No matter if he survived or not, the male would be forever changed.

Maybe I should just let go, then.

He told himself.

Wouldn’t that be easier?

Blackness crept in at the edges of his vision as the water closed in around his head. All of that fire that lived in his blood was little use against the heaviness of this place.

Magic far beyond him held Eris in its grasp, promising him peace. He wanted that.

As darkness swallowed him, Eris let his flames weaken. A cruel laugh of triumph was the last thing he heard as his face was pulled beneath the surface of the lake.

That laugh.

It reminded him of something. Something he had to do. No, all he had to do was sleep. Peace was absolute once he closed his eyes… but that laugh.

Eris’s eyes shot open, a molten core staring up at the surface, just out of reach.

No.

A scream tore away from him, pitiful and unheard. Fire was alive inside him once more, and Eris fought. But with every frail attempt, he only sunk further, it was too late.

Too late.