A summary of A Court of Wings and Ruin
  • Tamlin: *raises his voice when talking to Feyre*
  • Feyre: *looks out the window*
  • Tamlin: What are you doing???
  • Feyre: Don't mind me; I'm just trying to look for whoever the fuck you think you're yelling at, because I know for damn sure it ain't me

I have a soft spot for characters who are assholes and are giant smartasses but are loyal to to the letter and have a heart of gold.


My first time ever drawing Rhysand, and I’m going big cause I had to draw Feysand too at some point. This took a lot of time to make but I like it, though I need more practice in what comes to drawing hands. Hope you like it! :D

  • Feyre : Will you guys stop?
  • Aelin : You are being childish.
  • Rowan : AELIN
  • Rhysand : FEYRE
  • Feyre and Aelin : *continue reading their books*

“Did you know, that one summer, when I was seventeen, Elain bought me some paint? We’d had just enough to spend on extra things, and she bought me and Nesta presents. She didn’t have enough for a full set, but bought me r e d and b l u e and y e l l o w. I used them to the last drop, stretching them as much as I could, and painted little decorations in our cottage… I painted the table, the cabinets, the doorway… And we had this old, black dresser in our room- one drawer for each of us.”

A bride to spring, a mate to night. 

(Tumblr messed up the quality, for a change, so I had to add the borders to post the full drawing, but please also click it for hd :D)

Birth and Bloodletting: A Feysand Pregnancy

This insult had gone on long enough. Kier would not allow this to go on. It was one thing to let a halfbreed be his High Lord. It was one thing to let a former human be his high lady, but  these…children, these abominations that would grow and one day rule over his home, they needed to be taken care of before they grew into their power, they needed to be taken care of before they were born.


Her mate knelt to his knees, his lips brushing her stomach before kissing her, “I’ll be back, Feyre, darling. I promise, just a quick visit and then I’ll come back to you and Bartholomew and Biela. I’ve been gone for too long, they’ll start to think they are brazen enough to stage some kind of rebellion.”

She knew that, she knew that her people were growing restless and reckless. But that didn’t stop her from wanting Rhys by her side, not when she was due to give birth in less than a month. She wiped the tear from her eye, “Damned hormones.” She paused at the familiar name. “Biela? As in your sister?”


She tilted her head in thought. The sister that was taken so savagely from her mate and his family so long ago. The fierce female that she, herself, had grieved despite not knowing her. “It’s beautiful. What about Bartholomew? Why that name?”

He shrugged, “I just like it.”

She snorted, “You just like the nickname we both know you would give him.”

Rhys’s lips curled up into a smirk, his starry eyes alit with anticipation. “That may be a factor.”

“Lucky for you, that name is beautiful. Our poor son is going to be teased so much.”

He squeezed her hand, “But he will be feared and strong and cunning. Most important, he will be loved. They both will be.”

Feyre kissed him, “Take Cassian and Azriel with you. I will stay with Mor and Amren. Me and the babies will be safe.”

“I’ll take Cassian but I’m not taking Azriel. Mor is so close to giving birth, I don’t want to separate him from her, not if I don’t have to.” Mor was only a few months behind her, the pregnancy has been a bit difficult for her. Her nightmares making it hard for her to relax. “I’ll take Blake and have Nate sit with you and the others. He’ll bring Bay and Az wont feel so outnumbered.”

Of all her nephews and nieces, Nate was the one she was closest to. He shared her passion for art. His talent was true and good. Many years of perfecting his craft, Nate was magnificent in his ability to create.

“Be careful, Rhys.” She wiped away the tear on her face, these damned hormones were getting on her nerves. “I already lost Nesta and my nephew. I can’t lose my mate too.”

“You won’t,” he swore. “I promise. You will still feel me through the bond. You won’t lose me, not anytime soon.” Why did it feel like those words were a direct challenge to the Mother?


Cassian lowered to his hanches, only for Aysel’s hands to rest on his face. He took one and kissed her palm. “Be a good girl for Aunty Amren. Daddy will be back sooner than you know.”

His daughter’s lip wobbled, a sure sign he was going to get a cry sounding through his head. “Don’t cry, Baby Girl. Bay will be here too.”

Her face lit up at her brother’s name. Her arms reached up, ready for him to pick her up. Pulling her up to his hip, Cassian whispered his last goodbye before handing her to Amren. “Take care of my daughter.”

She sniffed, “No one is getting their hands on the Princess.’


Azriel surveyed his sons, Blake just came from the cabin. His shadows told him that he was there with Aurora and that Nate almost got his head bit off for retrieving him. “I would go but I need to stay with your mother and the High Lady.”

Blake’s face was smooth, the only lie to his irritation was the darkness of his son’s shadows slithering around him. “Yes sir.”

“Protect Rhys. There is something brewing in the Hewn City. I just haven’t been able to pinpoint what exactly. Protect him and protect yourself.”

“Yes sir.”


Keir turned to the others, “This will work. In order to end this insult, the High Lord needs dealt with first. He needs to be taken out of the equation. Lucky for us, we have had a benefactor who has taught us a few things about weakening his magic.” Keir’s lips stretched into a beautifully terrible smile. “Then we take out the Illyrians. They may be great, but our numbers even the odds. The whore won’t be able to help herself. She’s feel that bond go quiet and she’ll make her way to us. When she comes, I’ll cut those abominations from her stomach myself. This insult will not stand.”

The cavern of males and females of the purest blood grinned at him, thier smiles ready for the bloodletting that will finally come. Ridding their court of the half bred High Lord, the whore of a High Lady and those abominations in her womb.

It was his turn to rule.


Here’s part one, IDK how many parts there will be, I’ve been daydreaming this fic for…awhile. Please leave a comment! XO

Holy stars this was complicated as hell. Sooo many textures though I’m pleased with how the mural turned out even if getting all the colours to work right was a nightmare.

Anyway a scene from ACOTAR this time, since I was rereading it, and this scene stuck in my set designer’s brain and had to paint. I can’t help but imagine how awesome this scene would look on screen <3

Also played around with the lighting, and hopefully I’ve managed to achieve that dusty atmosphere the scene invokes.

Feyre and Prythian belongs to @sjmaas

paint tool sai and wacom bamboo

Inner Court V Squadre

Authors Note: For the Anon who asked for the showdown between The Squadre and the Night Court. Enjoy!

The mountains around them reminded Rhys of his home. This place, wherever the hell it was, was not Prythian. And these people who stood in front of them, they were the guardians of this realm.

Rhys tried to look into the blonde female’s head. She radiated an aura of power and queenlieness. Somehow, this Demifae was able to push him out of his mind. And by the look of rage in her eyes, she knew Rhys tried to look into her mind.

“There is only one being I know that has that ability, male,” blue flames licked off of her arms, “How do you know of the late Queen Maeve of Dorenlle?”

He had never heard of that name, he told her as much. She narrowed her eyes but her flames flickered out.

His court assembled in a half circle in a field, Rhys stood with Feyre, Cassian and Azriel next to them and Mor and Amren on either side of them and Nesta by Amren, her arms crossed and her eyes cold. He looked at the Queen of Terressen, her eyes hard and chin raised. He had heard stories of the princess turned assassin turned queen. She and her forces even rivaled his for cunning and deadliness.

On either side of her, a fae, her mate, Rhys assumed, with pine green eyes and silver hair was on her right while a black haired blue eyed man was on her right. They were flanked by a witch with gold eyes and a shifter and they were flanked by a male that was near identical to his queen and a lowering dark skinned fae. His eyes were black abysses.

The Queen stepped forward, her mate flanking her, “One chance, High Lord. Concede and we all go home happy.”

Rhys smiled bitterly, “We don’t want a fight, Queen. We were ripped out of our world and sent to this one. But if you want a fight, a fight you shall have, but I would prefer to not ruin my jacket.”


Aelin took in the violet eyes, he was telling the truth. Someone or something ripped him away from his home. Despite him telling the truth, Aelin did not know him or his friends. She will be damned if another force from another world tried to take her home again.

She drew a set of hunting knives, “I will not have my kingdom taken by again by another world’s force.”

The male in front of her smirked bitterly, his hands in his pockets. Most likely a mask to make himself seem uninterested and relaxed. But Aelin could see the calculations running in his eyes, the feline grin on his face as he said, “That is not my intention.”

Aelin rolled her shoulders, her blood starting to sing, “No magic, just blades.” She could feel the magic pouring off of each of them. If this turned into a magic fight, hundreds of miles would be ruined, along with hundreds of lives.

At the male’s nod, the silver eyed creature launched itself at Manon.


Manon ducked, her claws scraped into the silver eyed creature’s face, blood ran down through the jagged lines but it healed quickly, “What are you?” Manon hissed. Manon knew that this female, if she was indeed female, was not fae or witch or human. She was something darker than her Darkness.

The creature’s blood-red lips smiled terribly, wickedness lit her smoke-under-glass eyes, “My name is Amren, witch, and you do not want to know what prowls under my skin.” Manon was fairly certain that she didn’t.

Amren wrapped her legs around her neck, rolling, dropping Manon to the ground, her back barked in response to the sudden impact with the ground.

Rolling back onto her haunches, Manon sneered, “I’m not afraid of you.”

Amren gave her a serpentine smile, Manon’s blood spiked from the need to draw more blood. She whirled around, ducking low, she cut the tendons at Amren’s ankles, bringing the female to her knees. She looked down at the creature, at Amren, “You may heal fast Amren, but even fast healers need tendons to stand.”


Cassian flew towards the blonde male, a replica of the queen of the land, the arrogance poured off of him, but Cassian felt that the demifae could back up the swagger. His grin was wide and near feral, Cassian asked, “What’s your name?”

The general swung low, blonde hair glinting in the sun, his bone-pommeled blade narrowly missed Cassian’s side. Cassian fell back, as the wolf answered, “Aedion Ashryver. The Wolf of the North. General of the Bane.”

Cassian hit the General’s blade with his own arching their swords, their faces close enough Cassian could see the gold in his eyes. He offered, “The name is Cassian.”

Aedion barred his teeth into a smile, kicking him hard enough in the chest that he fell backwards to the ground. Aedion stood over and looked down at him grinning, “Good to know.”

Despite this being a battle, despite being ripped from home, Cassian grinned back up at the demifae.


Darkness enveloped Lysandra, her senses cut out by shadows. So she stretched out her skin, it coating itself into white spotted fur, her ghost leopard eyes able to see into the darkness. She took in the ghost leopard’s animal stillness, the savagery.

She shifted her eyes to the source of the shadows. The black hair blended into the shadows, his hazel eyes carefully calm.

The fae with the scarred hands.

He drew his sword waiting for her to strike.

Lysandra stalked towards the fae, slowly, deliberately.

Lysandra was going to take his head off.


Nesta took in the fae with the harsh tattooed face, his hunting blades were in his hands, a stern line between his eyebrows. She ran at him, her own hunting blades in her hands.

Whirling she managed to slice into his arm, a heavy stream of blood coming from the wound, but she had a matching wound on her leg, it bleeding just as badly. She growled.

She turned to him, his eyes rivaled her iciness, “What’s your name?”

The fae’s lips twitched, “What’s yours?”

She rolled her neck, pulling a blade and threw it at him, nearly hitting between his eyes, “I asked you first.”

He grabbed the blade with ease and sent it back, responding, “Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, King of Terressen. Your turn.”

“Nesta Archeron, Queen of Hybern.”

He smiled ferally at her, “Well met.” Well met indeed.


Lorcan waited for the blonde female with the hazel eyes to strike. She stood there, waiting for his move. Hellas was telling him to not charge after her. She had her own aura of death. Where ever she was from, this female was powerful and she was a queen in her own right.

Instead of running to meet her, he threw his ax with careful precision. She whirled out of the way gracefully, easily, her blonde hair fanning out. She moved like a dancer. Quick, graceful, fluid.

She jumped-started off the ground, running towards him, she jumped, her legs wrapped around his neck, the force of her pull managed to drop him backwards, landing on his back. The ground barked in response to the drop.

The female looked down at him, the sun illuminating her golden locks, smiling widely, “I’m Mor.”



Feyre’s mind briefly flashed to the Bone Carver, who she had seen as an eight year old child. This human looked unnervingly like him. But where the Bone Carver’s smile made her skin crawl, this human’s smirk reminded her of her mate.

She stood toe to toe with the human. He purred, “Dorian Havilliard, King of Adarlan.”

Feyre crossed her arms, “Feyre Archeron, High Lady of the Night Court.”

“Is this where you try to kill me, High Lady? And I heal spontaneously and snap your neck?”

Feyre arched a brow, “I won’t make a move until you do.”

The king narrowed his brows at her, “Agreed.”

Feyre turned her gaze briefly to her mate. His fighting skills were great, but this assassin-queen, she was better.

“She was the most notorious assassin in the world,” Dorian offered.

Feyre nodded, “I can tell.”


Aelin could tell that the High Lord was good. He was indeed very good, but she was better. Aelin striked out, the High Lord met her blow for blow, strike for strike. But he was tiring. And if he was tiring, she would win.

Aelin didn’t want to kill him. He was in a land that he knew nothing of. There was a way to stop this.

Aelin tripped him, and stood over him, her blade at his throat. She needed to show that she would protect what was hers. She looked down at him, understanding in his eyes. She said, “By rule of Terressen’s queen, Do you swear on your life, your name, your honor and your crown that you mean me and my people no harm? Do you swear that you will give the whole truth and hold back no secrets? Do you swear to answer every question asked?”

The High Lord responded, “On my honor and on my life and on my crown, I, Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, swear.”

When she retracted her sword, the High Lord froze the fighting.

With the voice of a queen, the voice of Fire and Light, Aelin stepped forward, “Weapons down. We will welcome theses people,” she looked at him, “unless they give me a reason not to, with no hostility or harm. Should any of you harm one another without direct orders from me or Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, you will instigate war and forfeit your life,” she held out a hand, giving the high lord a wicked grin, “ I am Queen Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius. Welcome to Terrasen, welcome to Eriela.


Nesta was exhausted, she had never known exhaustion like this. Her ankles were swollen and so was her stomach. It happened over night, she woke up one morning and couldn’t see her ankles. She knew it would happen, her bump had been tiny even at six months. But now she was huge, she felt huge. And everyone loved to remind her that she was bigger than the last time they saw her. She still couldn’t get used to people, strangers and family alike, constantly touching her. She hated it. The only person allowed to touch her bump without permission was the person who put it there.

She laid back down slowly, running her hand over her middle, begging their child to stop kicking. She had laid down for bed almost three hours ago. Yet she couldn’t fall asleep, because of the fluttering in her stomach. She hadn’t gotten a full nights sleep since the little bat found that kicking her bladder was more fun than anything else.

She knew this child was going to take after their father in so many ways. While it warmed her heart to think of Cassian’s conspiring smile on their child’s tiny face, she couldn’t handle the constant kicking. She just wanted a moment of peace.

There were dark circles under her eyes. They fell close as a moment of quiet surrounded her. The baby stilled, for a second Nesta thought she was finally going to be able to fall sleep. Even if only for a few hours. Cassien had fallen asleep hours ago, but Nesta was still wide awake. Trying everything she could think of to make their baby sleep.

She sighed as a kick against her ribs jolted her awake. Her eyes opened and she bit back a groan.

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