37 posts
Heirofshadowsingers - I Just Wanna Be Part Of Your Symphony - Tumblr Blog
it's not even funny anymore
I NEED Gwyn to make a friendship bracelet for Azriel, like I might start a riot if that does not happen.. sorry not sorry.
like IMAGINE him getting it and he just can't belive someone made something for him, SHE made something for him, and Gwyn helps him put it on and he realizes he doesn't care about her touching his hands or his scars against her skin bc all he can think about is how bright her eyes are, how sweet her smile is and how even when he goes to sleep later it feels like he has a part of her with him ALWAYS and he'll never take that bracelet off!!!
Gwyneth Berdara - Our lovely, ethereal River Nymph Priestess in all her glory
Doesn't she look absolutely divine amongst the waterfall, the rose petals, & water lillies? I know I'm starstruck by the beauty and grace she exudes here, and the lighting is just 😍😍😍😍
Artist: Evaroseart
Commissioner: Bookish_Embers (Me) - Link to support on IG if you'd like to 💕
“He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it.
But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly.
A thing of secret, lovely beauty.”
I imagine Az doing his mundane tasks (like sharpening his daggers for example) and then his mind goes back to Gwyn's teal eyes lighting up... and he always goes: WAIT A DAMN MINUTE!
(and obviously their shadows know everything so they just think it's funny) 🤭
nesta's character is so personal to me. she's sharp and cold and fearsome, she's soft and warm and scared. she's an unyielding woman. she's a girl who grew up too fast. she's angry. she's hurting. she hates herself. she hates the world. she also loves the world too much but it does not love her back. she needs vengeance. she needs music. she needs a hug. she feels she doesn't deserve the gentleness with which she treats those she cares for. she went to the wall for her baby sister, she shields her softer sister from the harshness of the world that hates her, she loves her sisters and they love her and they are cruel to each other and they would die for each other and she does not know how to speak to them or how to be with them in a way that does not break either of their hearts. she wants fiery passion and sweeping romance, but she also wants to be held and told she is loved. she is never held and told she is loved. she wants to be better, she wants to be good, she is never enough, she is too much. she would tear herself apart for those she loves. who would tear themselves apart for her?
✨☀️ 𝐸𝓁𝓊𝒸𝒾𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝒟𝒶𝓎 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓇𝑒 ☀️✨
✨ I saw this beautiful dress on Pinterest and it gave me such Elain vibes, but in Day Court? So I had to try and draw those two together. They absolutely own me. 🥺 ANYWHO, I’m loving this new style and painting the characters on rather than drawing them and being messy—there’s something fun about not having to follow the lines!
“Nesta had enough” I’m in the middle of working when this idea suddenly popped So… yeah, swipe left please ACOTAR fanart A novel by @therealsjmaas
so this happened on solstice
and this was later
i'm willing to bet money azriel was fighting for his life trying to keep that image buried and i do wonder if his chest sparked again?probably 🤫
Any Mean Girls fans amongst us?
This also means we’re 17 days away from the beginning of Valkyrie Week! Are you counting down with us? We’ll have some interactive questions posted in our stories over the next week, so keep an eye out! (Make sure you follow our Instagram account found here!) We also have some other fun things planned as we count down to celebrating the Valkyries reborn!
This Mean Girls inspired piece was commissioned by @melphsreads and @adrianivashkovc artist : @kure_indreams
I think the reason Elain didn’t have the same disdain for Papa Archeron’s carvings as her sisters is that she also understands the importance of making something beautiful in a dark place.
Surprise!!!
Happy Wednesday! I've got a Gwynriel comic for you all to enjoy this fall season that was done by none other than the amazing, talented @kloartz!!
On this beautiful day, Gwyneth is outside enjoying the autumn weather. Little does she know Azriel is coming up the path behind her.
She looks behind her as she hears the crunching leaves beneath his shoes and then.....➡️ to the second slide.
They end up enjoying the autumn weather together as Azriel pushes her on the swing and his shadows dance around him. Both are filled with joy and happiness. 💕
Link to my IG post if you all wanted to like, comment, share, and support on there 🥰
there’s just something about this
"They call you shadowsinger. Is it because you sing?"
“I am a shadowsinger— it's not a title that someone just made.”
“Do you, though?” “Sing?”
“Yes.”
and this being said after
“See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger.”
does it mean anything? who knows 💁♀️ but it makes me giggle 🤭
I love Azriel’s shadows and I especially, loved that one shadow who reached out to dance with Gwyn’s breath 🥰💖
Happy early Halloween! My latest commission by Arospaintbrush of instagram 🧜♀️ who has your acotar shipping preference already on her feed. Please support her print shop 🩵🩵
Lucien in Feral Mate mode:
Lucien snarled at the king over the bite of the magic at his throat, “Don’t just leave her on the damned floor—” There was a flare of light, and a scrape, and then Lucien was stalking toward Elain, freed of his restraints.
Lucien was shaking his head, panting, and whirled to us. “Get her back,” he snarled at Tamlin over the ranting of the king. A mate—a mate already going wild to defend what was his.
Jurian stalked over to Lucien amid the rising squabble, laughing under his breath. “Do you know what Illyrian bastards do to pretty females? You won’t have a mate left—at least not one that’s useful to you in any way.” Lucien’s answering growl was nothing short of feral.
I was fairly certain that only centuries of training kept Lucien from leaping over the table to rip out Jurian’s throat.
Touch her, smell her, taste her— The instincts were a running river. He fisted his hands at his sides.
But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate.
He fought against the bristling rage, the irrational urge to find the male who’d claimed her and shred him apart.
He paused right between them and said to me, to Nesta, “She needs fresh air.” “We’ll judge what she needs.” I could have sworn his ruby hair gleamed like molten metal as his temper rose. But it faded, his russet eye fixing on me. “Take her to the sea. Take her to some garden. But get her out of this house for an hour or two.”
But Lucien’s attention went right to the hallway toward the back, his nostrils flaring as he scented Elain’s direction. And who she’d gone with. A low snarl slipped out of him—
The words were little more than a growl.
His russet eye flashed with simmering rage. An uncontrollable instinct—for a mate to eliminate any threat.
Lucien in Calculating Mate mode:
“Forever,” I parroted, glancing behind—to where Lucien stood in the gravel drive. His gaze on me. Face hard. As if he’d seen through every lie. As if he knew of the second tattoo beneath my glove, and the glamour I now kept on it. As if he knew that they had let a fox into a chicken coop—and he could do nothing. Not unless he never wanted to see his mate—Elain—again.
Lucien breathed, “Where is he keeping her?” I knew who he meant. I shook my head. “I don’t know. Rhysand has a hundred places where they could be, but I doubt he’d use any of them to hide Elain, knowing that I’m aware of them.” “Tell me anyway. List all of them.” “You’ll die the moment you set foot in his territory.” “I survived well enough when I found you.” “You couldn’t see that he had me in thrall. You let him take me back.” Lie, lie, lie. But the hurt and guilt I expected weren’t there. Lucien slowly released his grip. “I need to find her.”
Lucien in Respectful Mate mode:
“Is … is there anything I can get for you?” I’d never heard my friend’s voice so soft. So tentative and concerned.
The words were a rasp as he instead said, “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Are you hurt?” he asked, coming toward us. Spying the blood speckling Elain’s hands.
Lucien now stood in the sitting room, close to Elain’s side.
“How is she?”
But is she still …” A muscle flickered in his jaw. “Does she still mourn him?”
Lucien had encountered him, I realized. Somehow, in living with Jurian and Vassa at that manor, he’d run into Elain’s former betrothed. And managed to leave the human lord breathing.
But he remained sitting. Even as his fingers dug into the arms of his chair.
The bigger box is for you. The smaller one is for her.” It took me a heartbeat to realize he meant the presents. I glanced over my shoulder to the careful silver wrapping, the blue bows atop both boxes.
Lucien in Sad Mate mode:
Lucien leaned his head back against the rock wall behind us. “And then I’ll ask your mate how he survived it—knowing you were engaged to someone else. Sharing another male’s bed.”
But Lucien was standing in the doorway. And from the devastation on his face, I knew he’d heard every word. Seen and heard and felt the hollowness and despair radiating from her.
She did not love him, want him, need him. Another male’s bride.
Only concern for her. And … sorrow. Longing.
He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap. “I’m not needed here. I’ll fight if you need me to, but …” He offered me a grim smile. “I do not belong in the Autumn Court. And I’m willing to bet I’m no longer welcome at h—the Spring Court.” Home, he had almost said.
Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye—the longing and sadness.
“She wants nothing to do with me.”
Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing.
Lucien in Perfect Mate mode:
Water poured forth, Lucien hoisting Elain in his arms and out of the way.
he’d been more than happy to do so, given that his own status as a mated male made him uninterested in any sort of female company these days.
“I’m a mated male now.”
But Lucien gripped my arm, halting me. “I’m going with you,” he said again, face splattered with blood as bright as his hair. “I’m getting my mate back.”
“Tell me about her—about Elain,” Lucien said quietly. As if the death that squatted in the dark beside us had drawn his thoughts to his own mate as well.
But he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.
“Let me do something. About Elain.
“Please tell me,” Lucien said when I crossed the threshold into the foyer. “What the healer says. And if—if you need me for anything.”
“Did you sense anything?” “No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek.
“I’ll go.” Lucien was staring at Elain as he spoke. We all looked at him. Lucien shifted his focus to Rhys, to me. “I’ll go,” he repeated, rising to his feet. “To find this sixth queen.”
Lucien, haggard and bloody, panting for breath. As if he’d run from the shore. His gaze settled on Elain, and he sagged a little.
“I’m fine,” Elain said quietly. And then asked, noticing the gore on him, the torn clothes and still-bloody weapons, “Are you—” “Well, I never want to fight in another battle as long as I live, but … yes, I’m in one piece.” A faint smile bloomed on Elain’s lips.
Lucien. He noticed it. “I heard you made the killing blow,” he said.
Lucien's lament
Bonus page!
This was inspired by a conversation with friends! @olenvasynyt shared something in which people called Lucien weak. It seems the community loves to dog on this man for how he does or does not treat Elain despite him being the most respectful of her needs and wishes! People forget that he's got the mating bond too, and has a voice in this as much as she does.
Also, the last panel featuring Gwyn lol! These poor red haired babies deserve all the love after what they've been through!
Imagine reading ACOSF where Gwyn's story is so plainly, obviously left unfinished and purposely described as such in the LAST CHAPTER and thinking she's irrelevant and that the author isn't laying the groundwork to explore her character's journey in the future
I could never. Anyways, stan Gwyn Berdara
Honestly, I would crack up if we're ever shown part of the reason Elain keeps such a distance from Lucien is that he sends her brain straight to the gutter in the extreme.
But specifically, this somehow coming out where Elain's mortified and someone finally tells her that, "Oh, that's not a mate thing. That's everyone's reaction."
obsessed with characters who were written for one another. like, what do you mean the reason for my existence is to be by your side? what do you mean our divine purpose is to belong to one another, for better or worse?
i think about this often… this right here
is very interesting when you look back at this
I used a second canvas to design and arrange the characters for the nessian scene from my blob comic and thought i'd show you guys some of the funnier(to me) things that came out of me playing around with them:
Feysand tying up blob Tamlin and SO SAD LITTLE BEAN ELAIN 😭:
The finished picture for reference:
Also Hybern in the blues clues chair and the happy little guard about to dunk nesta in the cauldron still make me laugh (I think I’m hilarious)
Wanna be yours
pairing: azriel x reader
summary: When you fall alseep on his shoulder, Azriel does not know what to do, and everyone are being so damn loud
word count: 2.2K
warnings: this is pure fluff and azzie being utterly smitten and fussing shadows
a/n: hiii! this is the first fanfic i've written for acotar, i've fallen down the rabbit hole lately and made this blog. and i just had this idea and had to write it, thought i might as well post it. hopefully someone will enjoy it<3
Azriel thought he had learned how to master his cool mask. Beyond everything he had experienced as The Night Court’s spymaster, nothing had tested him more than his family – a bunch of busybodies who drove him insane most of the time. He had played the role of chaperone between Cassian and Nesta, had been the one to drag Cassian’s ass out of The Summer Court when he wrecked that building and, for the third year in a row now, he had to re-decorate after Cassian and Feyre decorated the living room drunk.
Actually, the more Azriel thought about it, Cassian was usually the one who tested his control and threatened to ruin his cool composure.
And yet, despite years of practice, he forgot how to breathe when your head fell onto his shoulder. He had to force himself to remain nonchalant as your luscious scent overtook his senses. The river house was still loud and full of life, and the rowdy Winter Solstice party had not yet reached its peak. It was long past midnight and his family showed no signs of slowing down. The faelights above cast a golden light over their drunk faces as Mor continued to pour wine into all their glasses, declaring, “No one is allowed to go to bed until dawn!”
Which was why, an hour ago, Azriel had found himself slipping away to the couch in the corner of the room. Varian had joined him shortly after, the two of them chatting quietly while watching everyone else continue their quest to get as drunk as possible. Azriel didn’t know if it had been wishful thinking, or just pure naivety, that had made him believe Winter Solstice would be calmer after Nyx was born, but he had been wrong. After Feyre and Rhys had put him to bed earlier -- Rhys had been the one to pull out the fancy bottles.
While it warmed him to know that nothing had really changed, that his family was still the same after everything they had been through, Azriel was also the same; he still preferred to wake up the next day and remember what had happened the night before.
Although, he doubted he would ever be able to forget anything that involved you. You had joined him and Varian in the corner a while ago, stumbling and falling next to him on the couch in a drunken mess. His shadows danced around you as you giggled to yourself, and Azriel thought that the sound of your laughter was the best Solstice gift he had ever received.
The knitted gloves you had made and given to him earlier were a close second.
“So your hands won’t get so dry from the cold,” you had told him shyly, your cheeks flushed, and his heart had nearly burst out of his chest. Two days prior you had spotted him coating his hands in a thick layer of the salve Madja made for him, his scarred skin tended to get tight and uncomfortable, and even worse so when the temperatures dropped and the air became crisp and dry.
He most likely would not get the chance to wear them very often, the soft silky yarn was not made to withstand any fighting or training, and he could not bear the thought of ever losing or ruining them.
But it had still not stopped him from blushing as he opened the gift -- Cauldron, he blushed just thinking about them. The image of you rushing home and knitting him a pair of gloves after he told you how dry his hands became during winter... yeah, Azriel would never forget anything when it came to you.
And when you sat so close, your body pressing tightly up against his, warm and inviting, there was just no way to overlook the emotions that sparked in his chest. Your words were slurred as you talked about an elderly female you had met at the market earlier that day.
Though, it did not matter that the story you were drunkenly telling him was so ridiculously incoherent, your soft voice still enthralled him. Because if you wanted to talk to him, well, he would listen to whatever you had to say. Always.
But when your voice had faltered and your head fell to his shoulder, Azriel did not know what to do.
Varian was quick to join the others again when he noticed you leaning on him, leaving him alone with you in the corner. Despite Cassian’s and Rhys’s loud voices booming through the room, arguing about something that had happened during the snowball fight that morning, you had fallen asleep right there on his shoulder. Your lips set in a small pout and your dark lashes resting delicately against your cheeks.
Azriel could not move, could still not breathe, in fear of waking you. A single shadow brushed against your cheek, soothing and gentle, and you let out a content sigh. It took everything not to wrap his arms and wings around you and winnow away; the urge to tuck you in under a heap of blankets and hold your body close overwhelmed him.
And you were not even doing anything more than leaning on his shoulder. But it was all it took for Azriel to lose his cool completely.
‘So beautiful’ his shadows whispered around him. It had been a year since you had first walked into the training ring, into his life, and the shadows had not stopped whispering about your beauty since.
As you had introduced yourself as the new healer, employed specifically to help Madja with the Valkyries and their injuries from training, Azriel had struggled to restrain the shadows. He had never felt them be so curious before, swirling eagerly around him before darting off toward you. He had managed to call them back just before they reached you, but they had still caught your attention, and when he tried to apologize -- you had ignored him.
Instead, you had focused on the fresh wound on his chest and scolded him for not having it looked at. He had been too stunned to say or do anything else.
But the shadows had not lied; you were the most beautiful female he had ever seen. Your hair flowed around you in effortless waves, eyes shining with compassion, and you had not looked at him in fear or reluctance like most did. No, you had reprimanded him and forced him to sit down while you tended to his wound.
You had owned his heart from that very first day, even if he had not told you that yet.
“Feyre, look!” Cassian’s voice made him snap back into reality. “There’s your new painting!” Azriel glanced up only to discover that his family had turned their attention to the corner, looking at him and you with knowing smirks.
“Ohh yeah, I can see it,” Nesta mused and bit the inside of her cheek to stop the grin on her face from growing. “'The love-sick Spymaster and his dreamy Angel.'”
Feyre could not stop her giggles even as she tried to end his suffering, “C’mon guys, don’t tease him. I think it’s sweet. They are taking things slow and at their own pace, leave them alone.”
Azriel's face grew hotter, and yet, he remained as still as possible, afraid that any sudden movement would make you stir and wake up.
Though, he would have to agree; you were an angel. The kindest, most loving, and charmingly stubborn angel to exist in the world. In any world.
“Sweet?” Amren rolled her eyes. “You need to grow a pair and tell her already, boy. We are all sick of watching you two dance around the fact that both of you want to devour each other whole. It’s nauseating.”
Cassian let a loud howl thunder through the room but quickly smacked a hand over his mouth to stifle it as Azriel sent a icy glare in his direction.
“Shut up,” he hissed, trying to keep his voice low. He let his gaze fall to you again, hoping the annoying chatter had not disturbed you. “You are going to wake her.”
“I think you just proved our point, Azzie,” Cassian sniggered and shared a mischievous look with Rhysand, no doubt contriving more ways to get under his skin.
And the only response Azriel could think of was, “Shut up.”
Thankfully, they seemed to take some pity on him as they returned to whatever conversation had kept them busy earlier.
Or perhaps, they noticed how his shadows had moved across the room, swirling along the walls in annoyance, ready to strike at any moment if anyone disturbed you. Azriel released a heavy sigh of exasperation, reminding himself that they were just a bunch of idiots and that he loved them dearly.
“You know, your voice is far more comfortable to listen to than theirs,” you murmured suddenly, your voice full of sleep and still slightly slurred. Azriel couldn’t stop the shiver running down his spine, his shadows quickly drew themselves back and danced across your smooth skin, checking to see if you had been bothered or needed any assistance.
When he looked down your eyes were still closed, but a playful smile flickered across your face.
Azriel’s mouth ran dry, “I’m sorry-- I tried to tell them.”
“I know,” you told him and opened one eye to peek up at him, clearly amused. “I heard you.” You made no attempt to move away from him, and, for that reason, he did not attempt to move either. When you closed your eyes again he could’ve sworn you pressed yourself into his side a little bit closer and, Gods, had it always been so difficult to breathe? Azriel wasn’t sure anyone's presence had ever made him feel so utterly captivated.
And, he just really, really, fucking adored you.
Before he could think of a proper reply though, you spoke again, “We should do this more often. You make a good pillow.”
When your lips twitched into a small smirk, Azriel knew you could hear how fast and hard his heart was beating, and his ears burned from his own awkwardness. So all he said was, “I think it’s time to get you to a real bed.” He shifted his body to get up, lifting his arm to wrap around you. “C’mon, I’ve got you,” he kept his voice low; only for you to hear. Your slender hand stopped him, pressing into his thigh dangerously high, forcing him to remain on the couch.
“Noo,” you pouted. “Please don’t make me move yet... can’t we stay here like this for a couple more minutes?” It did not help his poor racing heart slow down. “...Or maybe even an hour?”
And how could he deny you that when you looked at him with those beautiful eyes? How could he ever deny you anything?
“Fine... here,” he mumbled and reached for an actual pillow, placing it in his lap. “At least lay down so you won’t strain your neck.”
The smile that broke out over your face; it needed to be Feyre’s new painting. Perhaps he would have to let her into his head, let his High Lady see your joyful eyes and glowing face, to make sure your smile could be captured forever for everyone to see.
As you settled down, your head now resting in his lap, Azriel could not help himself. He let his hand fall to your head, threading his fingers through your soft hair. His shadows settled on his shoulders, peering down at you as well, and he could not focus on anything else. The world could be on fire and he would not have been able to tear his eyes away from you.
“Azzie, stop looking like that.”
You glanced up at him again, brows knitted together in a small frown, and Azriel couldn’t stop himself from laughing, “Stop looking like what?”
There was a moment of silence, the hollering of his family a distant background noise, as your eyes met his. The sparkle in his chest became more intense, impossible to control, and even as you tried to look annoyed with him, the smile twitching at the corner of your mouth gave you away.
Eventually you huffed and curled into him a little more, “... you’re lucky you're so beautiful.”
And as you pulled his hand away from your hair and laced your smaller fingers through his, Azriel knew there was no turning back -- knew that there was no one else.
He raised your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it before whispering, “You are beautiful.”
Azriel thought he had learned how to master his cool mask, but when a golden thread weaved itself between his soul and yours, Azriel realized he was more than willing to let his mask slip for you.
ps, english is not my native language, so if there was any spelling or grammar issues; sorry! Thank you for reading <3