Thank you all so much for participating this Azris Week - we added over 50 fics to the Azris tag in just the past seven days! Some of you delivered with a work on each day, and some of you posted TWO, you beasts.
Stay tuned for the winner of the Hype Bat Challenge...
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First art piece I've posted in a while that has not been related to some type of event! I might touch this up later and repost a refined version, but I needed to get it out before the perfectionism devil got to me :)
Brief Azris Rant (related to this art):
I think these colors sum up how Azris feels in my head. They're (the colors and the characters) not particularly vivid for their own sake, but together they blend very well. I did try to give Azriel's siphon and Eris's crown a stronger kind of glow (because of their strong connections to their roots). I also wanted the swirls to look a little like shadows and a little like smoke.
We delve deeper into Autumn's culture and learn about The Marital Three.
This is one of the bigger bits of this story.
**PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION**
CW - Mentions of SA/PDF File situations. Genital mutilation.
It is Autumn, folks. Shit is shit here.
As always, thank you to the wonderful @tessville and @chunkypossum for your contributions to this bit and all the bits of the story so far. āØILYSMāØ
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. Heās 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. š¤š¤
Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train:
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Summary: āA boon,ā Eris murmurs, and Azrielās nails pause. They are still against Erisās stomach, still threats that make Erisās blood sing. āI would ask a boon of you.ā
Written for @azrisweek 2026, Day 4: Dark and Stormy Night.
Notes: Happy Azris Week!! I have been having a hell of a time getting ye olde braine to cooperate, but it suddenly kicked into gear in the last week and I was able to finish this weird little guy. Mild content warning for organ harvesting. (Is it consensual? Yes. Is it sane? Mmm, you decide.)
Title is from The Old Religion by Florence and the Machine. Special thanks to @jules-writes-stories, @yams-77, and @secret-third-thing for looking this over for me.
Eris frames the moon between his hands. It is astonishing how bright it is tonight: he imagines he can pick out the eyebrows of the Man in the Moon. As always, the Man looks surprised. Maybe he is shocked at the company Eris keeps.
āA telescope would work better.ā
Azrielās voice is quiet, velvety, the way it always is. Expectant, too, because they both have been waiting for a clear night and a bright moon for nearly a season.
This was originally meant for Day 3 (creature), but it is currently day 4 (dark and stormy night). While there are no stormy nights prevalent as of yet in this fic, I would argue Azris' collective mental states are the stormiest nights of all.
Thank you to @mistandmemories for dropping this entire idea that I have not been able to stop thinking about since. You're a genius and your mind is a wondrous place.
I'm very excited to write this and participate in my first Azris Week! It's been less than a year since I've joined this side of the internet and I've loved it very, very much. Thank you to all the people who've welcomed me and made this fandom a place that I love to hide away in!
--
LAPDOG
LINK: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86459301
SUMMARY (cw: mention of pet death in the summary) :
Azriel stops. There lies a puppy the size of his palm, wiggling in the dirt. The smoke from its dying mother wraps the poor creature in a blanket of ash. The mother closes her eyes, and the remaining smoke billowing off of her fades into nothingness.
Through it all:Ā Naiya, his shadows repeat, chorusing joyously.Ā Naiya!
He takes a moment to whisper a quiet prayer for the felled hound. Then, he scoops up the infant, its eyes scrunched shut.
Or: All the ways in which an action has consequences. And: Two very guarded males are brought together by a happy puppy.
Chapter 1/10: 3.3k
SNIPPET UNDER THE CUT:
Azrielās feet press, soft and steady, against the giving earth of Autumn.Ā
Thereās a nice breeze going ā a welcome reprieve from the biting cold of the mountains of Night. Sun shines on his back, absorbed by the black of his leathers and heating his skin. If he cranes his ear past the ever-present humming of his shadows, he can even hear the gentle splashing of a lake on shore.Ā
Itās a wonder, he thinks, that a place so idyllic can breed some of the worst fucking people heās ever met.Ā
There!Ā His shadows insist, interrupting him with their song. They dart across the floor like children, skittering to their destination. He dares not cross Them, so of course he leaves it be.Ā
Where does Your mind take you?Ā He asks back āĀ ili mansi vikra?Ā ā but his feet already move behind them. Their senses invade his entirety.
Following patiently, watching the light hit the trees hit the ground from about fifty different angles, from every one of his eyes, he thinks he smells a little bit of smoke.
Naiya, the shadows sing at him.Ā Naiya.
Before Azriel can process why They insist on discussing dogs when there might be an active fire, he hears a bark himself, then a sort of pained yowl. The scent of smoke bites at his nose.Ā
His feet carry him to a birthing hound, in visible pain, sloughing smoke off her back like a snake shedding skin.Ā
Azriel stops. There lies a puppy the size of his palm, wiggling in the dirt. The smoke from its dying mother wraps the poor creature in a blanket of ash. The mother closes her eyes, and the remaining smoke billowing off of her fades into nothingness.
Through it all:Ā Naiya, his shadows repeat, chorusing joyously.Ā Naiya!
He takes a moment to whisper a quiet prayer for the felled hound, and for the magic she homed. Finishing his mutterings, he scoops up the infant, its eyes scrunched shut. A little maneuvering and āĀ itās a girl.
The shadows crow in delight, rushing in at once, peeking down at the little creature. Their joy smothers Azriel and he has to bite against the feelings, the whole force of Them. Then, as fickle as the rain and as changing as the tides, They demand alterations. The love cuts off immediately; it turns into warning.Ā
Azriel focuses hard to try and split his attention once more, to spread his fracturing being across the shadows and the hounds and the dying and the earth. He hears the thud of footsteps, and concentrates until he smells the fire magic of Autumn.Ā
It is Eris, Son of Autumn, who rushes into the square, feet slamming against the leafy dirt in his hurry. His eyes catch sight of his smokehound, dead on the floor, and only a flicker of grief lasts in his eyes before it is smothered out by rage.Ā
He whirls on Azriel. āYou.āĀ
Azriel looks at Eris for a moment, and he sees, from a shadow behind him, a tinge of red beginning to seep through the Heirās back. His hair, unraveled, matted ā not perfectly combed as usual. Cracks on his cuticles. He mustāve just gotten out, Azriel realizes, from a conversation with Beron. Torturous in both a metaphorical and physical sense.Ā
āShe was dead when I arrived,ā Azriel says, and itās as much of a condolence as he can muster, being caught how he is. āIām unsure why.āĀ
Erisās face scrunches up in fury, and it would be comical if it wasnāt so sad.Ā
He almost looks like the wounded parakeet that his shadows were taken with in Summer, squawking and injured, lashing out with talons too dull to achieve much. āItās obvious why she died,ā Eris spits out. āSmokehounds are blessed by the Mother for their magic. It elongates their lifespan to the hundreds. But magic is finite.ā The explanation comes out somehow both bitter and distracted. In fact, the Son of Autumn is not looking at him at all, his eyes instead busy searching for remnants of smoke that no longer exist.
Azriel understands, and thinks clarifying aloud would be a mercy. āThe smoke transfers to the infant after birth as the magic cannot sustain two. The mother dies as age catches up to her at once.ā It is this truth told to air that breaks the redhead free from his compulsive searching, and amber eyes find him again.Ā
Eris sneers. āThe motherĀ orĀ the father. But Letheās mate died already, in the war.ā He snaps, once. āThis is irrelevant. Where is the pup? What have you done with them?ā
Azriel holds his palm out, lifting it up from his shadows, baring the curled up pup within it. āSheās safe,ā he says, flatly. āRegardless of what you no doubt think of me, I wouldnāt slaughter a puppy.ā
Thereās a brief sort of silence before despair hits Erisās face all at once. Itās a far cry from the relief Azriel expected to see written on his face. āWhat,ā he grits out, āhave youĀ done?āĀ
Eris rushes forward, and Azriel instinctively shields the small animal from him. The heir looks almost sick at the action.Ā
āI didnāt do anything,ā is what Azriel says in his own defense. āI picked it up. Itās unharmed.ā
āItās imprinted to you, you Illyrian bastard.ā Eris snaps, incensed, and Azriel stops in his tracks. āCongratulations, shadowsinger. Youāve damned this child to a life bonded toĀ you. āĀ
Blood sprouts new flowers beneath his tunic, staining the embroidery red. And silence is all Azriel has to offer, his shadows dancing in the air beside him: victorious.
Eris stares at him. āNot a word in response, shadowsinger?ā
With no choices beyond the obvious or obscenely cruel, the spy elects neither and begins to spout nonsense.Ā
āIāll take it to Night, then,ā he offers, knowing as he says it how empty the suggestion is. He canāt take care of any hound ā he barely suffers through caring for himself. Dependent on him for survival, the pup would be lucky if it lasted the week.Ā
āYou will, will you?ā Eris taunts, viciously. āItāll die before it leaves Autumnās borders. Itās too young and its magic too weak.ā
Azriel purses his lips. āThen Iāll leave the pup here.āĀ
āAre youĀ slow? It will die without you.ā He pinches the bridge of his nose. Erisās shadow sings to Azriel and itās more like a verse ā tense, anxious. Rigid, like the male himself. Cowardice and avarice is all that he finds.Ā
āThen Iāll visit. Periodically. Once a month.āĀ
Eris scrunched his nose. āGive her to me.Ā Now.āĀ
Azriel does, obediently dropping the little puppy in Erisās waiting hands. Eris examines it, and seems almost distraught when the puppy mewls out for Azriel instead.Ā
Azrielās shadows wail in kind, thrashing unhappily at his feet and wriggling in his ears until his head pulses painfully. But he can not acquiesce to Their whims anymore. Rhysand will have his return.Ā
He winnows out of the clearing, his shadows screeching, singing, chanting oppressively in his ear. He leaves a piece of his soul behind when he departs.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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A compilation of little vignettes of pranks over time. Not a parody, but this is not a serious fic. No angst or smut, just a few ideas I jotted down over the year that never made it into one-shots.
For Azris Week 2026 - Day 1: Contact
He'd never admit it publicly, but Azriel started it. No one talks about how boring fieldwork is, especially when the High Lord of Night, father of your chosen brother, sends you to the Autumn Court with instructions to discover Beron's latest scheme⦠and not to come back until you know it.
Read the rest on AO3:
6.2k words, 6 chapters, Teen and Up
My usual Azris tags: Let me know if you want on or off the tag list!
āThere will never be anything like you again. Not for me.ā
The words were spoken like a promise, but the threat lurking in each sound was a noose around Erisās neck. They had never been so careless but as secrecy strangled them, their longing only tightened the knots.
Inevitability was at their core,their love and their loss.
Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train:
the whole point though the whole point of neris is that deep down they are eldest siblings who cant stop gathering sheep up like dogs. Which is why Eris canāt stop loving his soldiers as much as he loves himself, which is why Briallyn can use them to get to him without lifting a finger, because he canāt abandon his men who need to believe they are fighting for something real, because he desperately needs to believe that the thing heās fighting for is real. Which is why Nesta would have stood at the pass of enalius for any young woman with a bruise in her who wanted something bad enough to risk her life for it. Nesta didnāt want to fight originally and im not sure that Eris does deep down either but the point is if being a general or a Valkyrie is the language you use to tell people who need you that they arenāt alone then theyāll speak it. Theyāll speak it over and over and over
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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OMG look! It's club rat Azriel and definitely NOT a mostly naked Azriel hiding from this app's purity team!
Whatever you do, DON'T go looking for a different version over HERE ON AO3.
WAIT! Know before you go! There are two versions, one of them is bloody and chained and torn up a little. IT'S NOT THAT BAD... but it could be to you, so look with caution.
If you look at him and donāt leave a nice comment I will actually cry.
Also, special thanks to all the Azris stories Iāve been listening to while painting this!
Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train:
People in a fandom who donāt post art/fics, but who reblog/like/follow/otherwise support artists and creators, my beloveds
If artists are the backbone of a fandom, then you all are the muscles. Connecting everyone and everything. Spreading fun and whimsy. Thatās real neat, I think
I adore you all so much
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