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Do you have something for the Cassian week this year? If you do, can you give us a little sneak peak 👀

Unfortunately, I don't plan on participating this year. (Not that I did a spectacular job of participating last year, either!) My IRL world has gotten busier and I'm juggling (quite badly) more things. I've got one "comic" WIP that I've been working on here and there.

I really enjoyed drawing these romance covers that riffed off of the old school illustrated regency romances, so I wanted to do one that was a tongue-in-cheek nod to Frank Frazetta (think Conan the Barbarian) and more... modern? Or maybe not so modern romantasy books.

I started getting the ick tho when I started the base colours to the cover, and I thought I'd be open about why. This post is getting long so I'm just going to pop these thoughts underneath the read-more to save people as they scroll by.

Basically, in my interpretation of SJM's work, the Illyrians appear to be a brown people who are continuously and coldly othered by their own author. They're depicted very broadly as barbarians—a warrior race, as if fighting was part of their genetic makeup and not a militaristic role that is foisted upon them by the Night Court—and their home is portrayed as a cultural backwater. (Or at the very least, we are given no indication of any culture beyond wing clipping and strict caste and societal roles that seem to be tied to whose bits one's left and what bits one's got. And it makes you wonder: so what are their songs like? Their art? Their dances? If I had to predict SJM's response to these questions, I'd guess that she would simply say that all of the above were warlike and leave it at that! We only know that they've got swirly tats and runes aslfkajsfd) So we're given Velaris and Windhaven as two diametrically opposed places: one where art and culture is stressed and another where war and violence is stressed. But that's often part of a superficial story that's told in real-world colonisation narratives (to the tune of: we're keeping those savages in line, we're bringing them OUR culture and thus the mark of true civilisation, they would RUIN our culture if they were to live freely HERE, etc.).

Then, you add to that the sexualisation of Illyrians - that wing size corresponds to penis size and that penis size is tied to sexual performance and PS THESE bat boys who have been given a Velaris Values Education on top of their Illyrian Child Soldier one have the biggest ding dang wings you've ever seen. And priapic penises, being primal or animalistic in bed (if memory serves me correctly, it is interesting that it's CASSIAN, an Illyrian, who says that the Fae as a whole are closer to animals like what kind of person thinks like that about themselves), having a voracious libido, or being thought of as rapists (Jurian implies this of Illyrians at the beginning of ACOWAR when he says that Elain's "probably been fucked by half the Illyrian army by now" to Lucien), etc. are also present in real world civilisation-vs-barbarian narratives that run all the way back to Ancient fucking Greece AND in white-vs-literally-anyone-else narratives.

My hope is that the cover I drew is sufficiently in-world and that people don't think that I think of the Illyrians as a barbaric brown people. I think they're a people the author gives fuck all about because it doesn't seem to me that she actually really cares about meaningful world-building that goes beyond Pinterest board aesthetics. And neither does my imagined version of Selyn Drake.

But I also want to acknowledge that the reason it became weird and icky for me to finish the piece was because even though the white woman on the cover is half-naked and in a submissive position at his feet, I'm still at the end of the day drawing a brown man however fictional in a derogatory position and role that literally and figuratively paints him as a barbarian in a very sexual context that directly mimics real-world racial, cultural, and colonial dynamics even within a romantic context (for a real-world example, see: The Sheik (1921)). And that part just felt gross. :\

ANYWAY, TL;DR: I won't be finishing this piece the way that I intended. Felt like I was toeing a line I wasn't sure I was fully equipped to toe, so to speak. I'm trying to write Fix It Fic for the first time in a long time and salvaging this fuckin' depiction of one of the few brown peoples in a whole ass world has been an uphill battle in all directions.

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...I still haven't drawn modern Rhys😅😅

In the modern AU head cannon Emerie is a personal trainer at Cassian's gym and a big buff lady, because if all Illryian men are buff because they need muscles to hold up their wings, then ladies are buff too. (never mind the modern Emerie has no wings)

Modern Gwyn is business bitch Nesta's shy secretary and Nesta will ruin your career if you're mean to her. They join the gym together and Emerie and Gwyn fall in love.

As a bonus have some modern AU valkyrie training. 😂Maybe eventually the 3 of them join roller derby partly to make Gwyn bold and to help get Nesta's aggression out and they call their team the valkyries.

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Bryce Quinlan & Danika Fendyr - Crescent City Series by Sarah J. Maas

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🧜🏼‍♂️ The Kings of the Waves 🌊

*Cue Queen of the Waves from Barbie in a Mermaid Tale*

I drew this piece the other day, very last minute for MerMay and Tharion Day. I just couldn’t resist making a silly little piece of him and Ithan, the best bromance of CC. This is my first time drawing any Crescent City characters. And poor Bryce, her Jelly Jubilee collection never knows peace from the boys. She should definitely lock them in a safe. I don’t know about you guys but I feel like Ithan would be a terrible swimmer, doing half assed doggy paddles hehe.

Be sure to follow me on Instagram at jennastokesart to stay updated with my shenanigans 🩵

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Posting these old ass doobles of Beastie Tam bc I promised I would in exchange for SOMEONE'S tamcien fic 😒 Enjoy | guess

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I always thought of Devlon as some old grumpy grizzled warlord guy

BUT YOUR DEVLON IS SO HOT WTF 😭

Sfhdsj I haven't had the time to draw him lately so have an unfinished WIP. I'm of the conviction that every warlord should have a slutty ponytail

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An iconic line and a hilarious reinterpretation of it by @: bluenefelibata

Support the artist here!

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Kindly asking if you have some other Nessian sketches or something else you might want to show us! I miss your Nessian, it's really wonderful!

Thank you! I do, I suppose, but all my WIPs are very, very rough and not worth posting. Here's the one that was the most legible of the lot if you ignore the fact that I still haven't figured out the perspective or Nesta's frilly nightgown or Cassian's wings. Oh well! Unfortunately, I just don't have the bandwidth to draw as frequently as I used to. ꃋᴖꃋ

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I heard Barbara ask for undercut Yang ✏️

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More of Nesta moving to the Spring Court instead of the House of Wind.

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Yang 💛💥

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The Prince & The Popstar

pairing: Ruhn Danaan x Reader

word count: 2k

warnings: none

tags: popstar!reader, first meeting

a/n: surprise! here is part 1 to the new series i’ve been hinting at. this idea hit me randomly and i somehow managed to preemptively write the first 10 parts. i hope you enjoy!

The bass throbbed through the walls of The White Raven, each beat a pulse in the heart of Lunathion’s most popular club. Lights flickered in time with the music, bright bursts of purple and blue strobing across bodies packed tight on the dance floor. It was chaos. Controlled, beautiful chaos. The kind that could only exist in the beating heart of the city, where Vanir lost themselves to the thrill of the night.

Ruhn Danaan lounged in the VIP booth overlooking the crowd, half-lit by the glow of the chandeliers above. He’d pulled his usual dark ensemble tonight—black combat boots, worn jeans, a form-fitting black tee stretched over the muscles of his chest, and his signature leather jacket. His black hair was tied back loosely, dark strands curling at his temples. Tattoos snaked down his arms and across his neck, glinting faintly as the lights flashed. He sprawled out on the booth seat, legs wide, as if he owned the place. Like he was royalty—because he was.

The Prince of the Valbaran Fae.

Not that it meant much here tonight.

He nursed a glass of whiskey, elbow propped on the armrest, while Declan and Flynn argued about some Sunball score from earlier in the week. Ruhn tuned them out. Not because he didn’t care—well, maybe he didn’t—but because he’d heard the whisper hours ago.

You were performing tonight.

He didn’t follow pop music. Never had. But he knew your name. Everyone in Lunathion did.

The voice of an angel that sang about partying and breaking hearts over the perfect beat for dancing. You were newer to the scene, but already a rising star, your name climbing charts and echoing down the streets of the city. Rumor had it your performances were something else. Wild. Electric. Unforgettable.

And Ruhn Danaan was about to find out why.

The crowd started shifting, a hum of excitement rippling across the room like a spark catching dry leaves, and the overhead lights dimmed. The DJ’s last track faded into a slow, building beat. Somewhere backstage, a microphone crackled.

And then the screen above the stage flickered, displaying your name in glowing cursive as smoke crawled across the stage.

The music shifted.

And you walked out.

Ruhn sat up straighter, glass forgotten in his hand.

You were a vision.

Dressed in white thigh-high boots and a glittering, form fitted one-piece that caught the lights like twinkling stars, you moved like you owned the room. Like every step was choreographed to seduce the crowd, but your smile—gods, that smile—was wicked. Confident. You didn’t need them to love you. You already knew they did.

Your hair flowed behind you, wild and perfect, and your makeup shimmered with tiny gems at the corner of your eyes.

And your voice—

Holy fuck, your voice.

It cut through the air like molten gold, smooth with a rasp beneath the surface. The kind of sound that could break hearts and stitch them back together in a single verse. You didn’t just sing. You performed. Every lyric was an invitation, every note a challenge. The audience was under your spell, and Ruhn?

Ruhn was no better. He couldn’t look away. He didn’t even want to blink.

You flirted with the crowd, danced with your backup performers, and let your fingers trail across the mic stand like a caress. The song swelled, and when you hit the high note, the lights burst into flame-like strobes behind you. The crowd screamed.

Ruhn barely heard them.

He was too busy watching your hips sway, your eyes glitter as they scanned the club… and then lingered, just for a breath, on the VIP section.

On him.

Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

When the set ended, the crowd erupted. Screaming, cheering, hands thrown in the air like worship. You offered them a lazy, sultry bow, then disappeared backstage with a final wink.

Ruhn blew out a slow breath, his chest tight with something that felt dangerously close to want.

Declan was grinning beside him, already pouring another drink. “Well, shit. I get why she’s famous now.”

Flynn let out a low whistle. “She’s hot. You think she’s single?”

Ruhn didn’t answer. He was still watching the stage like you might return. Like he could manifest you with sheer will.

The afterparty began in earnest. The dance floor stayed packed, and the DJ returned to spinning popular club mixes, but now the energy had shifted. It wasn’t just about the music anymore. It was about being close to you. About maybe catching a glimpse of you at the bar, or near the booth, or brushing past you in the dark.

Ruhn leaned in to speak to the nearest bouncer—a burly male with a heavy brow and an earpiece—and handed him a sleek, black business card.

“Go find her manager,” Ruhn said over the thrum of the music. “Tell them the Prince of the Valbaran Fae would like to speak with her.”

The bouncer gave a sharp nod and disappeared into the crowd.

Flynn raised a brow. “Pulling the royalty card, huh?”

Ruhn just smirked. “Call it… diplomatic curiosity.”

And maybe something else, he didn’t say.

Backstage, your manager paced with his clipboard clutched like a lifeline.

“Phenomenal,” he said for the third time as you took a long sip from your water bottle. “Absolutely electric. They were eating out of the palm of your hand.”

You grinned, toweling off your neck. “They usually do.”

“Smug looks good on you,” he said with a smirk, then flipped a page on the clipboard. “We’ve got three interviews tomorrow, don’t forget. And the shoot for—”

A polite cough interrupted him.

The bouncer stood at the edge of the dressing room hallway, his stance official but non-threatening. “Excuse me. Are you her manager?”

Your manager—Jeremy Bell, one hundred and twenty-eight, a caffeine addict, and the only fae who could handle your schedule—stepped forward. “I am. What’s this about?”

“The Prince of the Valbaran Fae requests a word,” the bouncer said, handing him the card.

Jeremy read it, and then his brows shot up so fast they nearly left his head. “You’re kidding.”

“Dead serious,” the bouncer replied.

He turned to you, grinning like a cat who’d just been handed an entire bowl of cream. “This is huge. I mean Ruhn Danaan? That’s a headline. You spotted with the Prince of the Valbaran Fae at The White Raven? We’ll be trending in seconds.”

You raised a brow. “So… what, he wants to talk to me?”

Jeremy waggled the card. “He wants you at his table. Alone. With him.”

You blinked. “Alone?”

“Do it,” he said, practically vibrating. “I’m begging you. Five minutes. That’s all. You don’t even have to like him. But this kind of exposure—this could put you on a whole other level.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you looked into Jeremy’s pleading green eyes. You’d seen Ruhn from the stage—broad shoulders, dark hair, tattoos and danger wrapped up in one. He hadn’t blinked once during your performance. He had watched you like he knew you, or like he wanted to.

And okay, maybe that had thrilled you a little.

You shrugged. “Fine. Five minutes.”

Jeremy practically squealed. “Urd, bless you.”

You took your time.

Not because you were nervous, but because you weren’t. This was your element, after all. The lights. The noise. The attention.

You sauntered up the stairs to the second-level VIP section like you belonged there—because you did. Every head turned as you passed. Your outfit shimmered under the low lights, and your perfume trailed behind you like sin in the air.

And then you saw him.

Ruhn Danaan.

Gods, he looked like the dictionary definition of trouble. Leaning back in the booth, legs spread, arm slung over the back of the velvet seat, whiskey in hand. His tattoos glowed faintly in the dimness, his jaw sharp and shadowed, his eyes—

Those eyes met yours the moment you stepped into his space. Deep, electric blue. Focused. Hungry.

You tilted your head, letting your lips curl into a slow, amused smile.

“Well,” you drawled, “you went through a lot of trouble to get me up here. What if I’d said no?”

He smirked. “Then I would’ve kept watching you from afar. Probably for the rest of the night.”

You laughed, low and sultry, and slid into the seat opposite him. “Good answer, Your Highness.”

He rolled his eyes. “Please don’t call me that.”

“Alright. Ruhn.” You let the name roll off your tongue. “So what is it? Big fan? Looking to request a private concert?”

“Maybe,” he said, voice rough with something unreadable. “Or maybe I just wanted to meet the only person in this club who made time stand still.”

You blinked.

Well, shit.

“You say that to all the girls?” you teased, sipping the cocktail that had been set out for you.

“Only the ones who sing like goddesses.”

You laughed again, leaning forward slightly. “You have a type, then.”

His eyes dropped to your lips. “Maybe.”

The air between you stretched, tight with something unspoken. Something that hummed just beneath the surface, like a second bass line no one else could hear.

And you knew, right then, that five minutes wouldn’t be enough.

Not even close.

You didn’t know how long you sat in that velvet booth with Ruhn, the world outside the VIP lounge melting into white-noise. Time blurred as if the two of you were the only ones in the club.

He leaned in close as you talked, voice low, attention never straying far from your face. And you—gods, you were flirting like your life depended on it. Each laugh and brush of your fingers against his arm deliberate, each sly look returned with a smirk that said he wasn’t missing a thing.

“So,” he said at one point, tilting his head, the silver ring in his ear glinting under the club lights, “is it always like that?”

“Like what?”

“You walk out, sing a few songs, and leave the entire club dizzy.”

You smirked, swirling your drink. “Only on the nights I feel like being generous.”

He laughed, the sound rough and warm and so real it tugged something in your chest. Ruhn Danaan, Prince and Commander of the Auxiliary—was laughing with you like he wasn’t used to this either. Like something about you was unexpected.

You leaned closer, just enough that your knees brushed beneath the table. “Tell me something real, Ruhn.”

He raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Anything. No politics. No titles. Just you.”

He studied you for a long moment, then looked down at his glass before saying, “Sometimes I wish I could disappear. Just… for a little while. Go somewhere no one knows who I am. No obligations. No power.”

Your heart skipped. “Do you?”

He nodded slowly. “And sometimes, I think I’d lose my damn mind without it.”

You didn’t say anything for a second, then murmured, “You’re more complicated than I thought.”

He chuckled, taking another sip of his whiskey, and when he looked at you again, it was softer. “What about you?”

You shrugged, looking away. “I got into this industry because I wanted to share my music. I wanted to do something I loved. Unfortunately, that came with the paparazzi, and thousands of eyes on me and opinions about me at the same time. I’m grateful for my fans and my life, but sometimes I wish I could have one without the other. But I’m not allowed to complain about it, because if I do, I’m told I asked for it”

His gaze sharpened. “You’re allowed to complain about your life not belonging to you anymore.”

Those words hit harder than they should’ve. You didn’t know what to say—so you said nothing, let your fingers drift along the edge of your glass, and tried not to think about how fast your heart was racing.

Ruhn cleared his throat after a beat. “Can I have your number?”

You blinked.

His smirk returned, lazy and cocky and somehow sweet. “In case I want to see the real you again.”

You handed over your phone, ignoring the flutter in your stomach and the whisper in the back of your mind that this was only the beginning between the two of you.

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Day 5 of @tamlinweek - Biting

Inspired by THIS POST by @extremely-judgemental

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Humour me for a moment, please 🙏

A lot of people like talking about what if there was another Archeron sister? Just like, four instead of three, not like a secret sister. And since I really like your story telling, what do you think she would be like? Where would she fall in the birth order? What would her powers be? Etc. Obviously being that in depth is optional, but I, again, really like your story telling abilities and wanted to see what you would think!

Beware, some drawings look wonky and please excuse the poor dialog. I just drew it all over the weekend.

Meet Edith Archeron:

Let’s start with her past: Edith was born from a scandalous affair between Mr. Archeron and a wealthy lady. To protect her family’s reputation, her mother gave Edith up to the Archerons. It all happened shortly before Mrs. Archeron fell gravely ill and they lost their fortune. So unlike her sisters, she only ever knew poverty.

There was no one to properly raise Edith, even with her family around. Feyre was always out hunting, Nesta and Elain busy with chores, and their father sat uselessly in his chair. Edith grew up without guidance, no education, no manners, and little love. Nesta, angry at their father, would at times take it out on her, Elain was too focused on keeping herself alive, and Feyre believed that keeping them all alive was enough— Once, when Edith asked to join Feyre hunting, her clumsy movements scared off the prey and it frustrated Feyre a lot, she told her to not bother and go back. That’s when she got lost in the woods and got bitten by a magical little plant that infected her body. Without immediate treatment, she’s cursed with a slow, incurable disease. She’s in the early stages in which she can‘t use her bitten leg properly. She didn’t tell her sisters about it, thinking that it’s no big deal. She might not live past her early 20s.

I love to think of Edith as this weird, awkward, nonchalant kid. She‘d spent her time either helping with some chores, sleeping through the day or doing whatever she could outside (not far from the cottage) to entertain herself. She made some animal friends as well, hehe.

She also has no chill when it comes to saying what’s on her mind. Like when the Bat Boys meet the Archeron family for the first time— while Nesta and Elain are trying to stay calm despite their fear of Faeries, Edith just watches that one big bat spit some chewed-up food bits right into her dish. You can imagine how she called him out on it.

On to your question about her powers: She has none. She’s human and stays that way.-> After Tamlin provided them with enough wealth, Edith developed a habit of going out in the middle of the night to dip her feet into the lake. This act saved her from being kidnapped by Hybern‘s beasts when they came and forcefully took Nesta and Elain. It was quite a scare to run back in and find her sisters gone and their rooms destroyed.

While we see each of her sisters healing, finding their purpose in life and accepting their reality in the recent years, Edith starts to wonder about her future. She pretends it doesn’t bother her, but she questions her worth. She has no passions, any goals or a purpose in life and so It’s hard for her to watch her sisters happy while she’s left behind with nothing, merely passing through the days and waiting for the disease to take over. That is until she stumbles upon Bryaxis while trying to find a book with interesting enough pictures and doesn’t require reading.

The friendly, near invisible demon seems to know everything about her. It convinces her to strike a bargain: To live and be like her sisters in exchange for a favor it will call upon. (See the sketch above far right)— Don’t blame her, remember that she wasn’t taught basic survival skills and to be cautious.

It tells her exactly what to do, how to become immortal and powerful. The catch? She has to steal it from Rhysand. It was difficult but she pulled it off. ( Don’t ask how cause Idk. Maybe by using Faebane or something)

Edith now enjoys her new life. For the first time she has something that brings her genuine joy and she becomes quite obsessed with it. She even feels no pain in her left leg anymore! Her sisters though aren’t particularly happy about it and that bothers her a lot. She doesn’t understand what she‘s dealing with, nor that her sisters’ concerns come from love, not hatred. With that, Bryaxis takes advantage of her hurt and confusion and becomes her only „friend“. It speaks to her in mind, whispering manipulations, convincing her that everyone is against her. The more her emotions spiral, the stronger grasp Bryaxis has on her.

(Don’t mind the sketch below far right with the broken wrings, it has no relation to the story. I just thought it looked cool)

There’s a long history between Bryaxis and the royal family of the Night court. Long story short, It was hunted down and forced into servitude by a former High lord. In an act of vengeance, Bryaxis used people as vessels to spread chaos and destruction within this court. Therefor the High lord at that time caged it in the heart of the House of Wind, no one ever allowed to enter the the pit of the library and awaken this monster. (You can keep the scene of Bryaxis scaring the living sh*t out of Cassian when the bat boys were on their rebellious phase. It revealed its true form to him)

Rhysand is completely stripped of his magic and his immortality. You can Imagine how the power-hungry king feels about this. (Not to mention how disastrous it would be if people, within and outside the Night Court, hear a whisper of Rhys‘s current state). Rhys could learn how to view the lower class as more than weaklings.

And finally, when Edith completely loses control does Bryaxis step in and demand that she fulfill her end of the bargain: giving up her very soul to fuse with Bryaxis. Combined, they (more like Bryaxis) destroy everything in their path within the city of Starlight. Though Bryxis cannot venture beyond Velaris, it is more than satisfied with its newfound strength to destroy what’s precious to Rhys.

Feyre, of course, won’t stand for this. Since she cannot defeat Bryaxis without losing Edith in the process, she strikes a compelling bargain. Rhys isn’t at all happy about it.

As punishment, Edith is permanently banned from the Night Court. With Thesan's approval, she‘s sent to reside in the Dawn Court, where she undergoes surgeries and a mental recovery process. Elain decides to temporarily accompany her, working with scholars and scientists to assist in her treatment. Some of the researchers are excited to document her case, particularly the rare disease she contracted. With Elain's help, they manage to create a cure for it.

This is my design of her grown. During her recovery, Edith decided that perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to receive an education. In the years that followed, she discovered her aspirations and passions and learns to be content with herself as a human

Don’t forget that Bryaxis is still out there, though no one heard a whisper of it since that incident. What if they meet again? And this time Edith‘s not interested in conserving with it while Bryaxis is kind of obsessed with her. I‘ve also added some love interests for it (see the rough sketches). I personally prefer no love interests, but if people like they can decide between the 2 or have both.

I‘m not quite sure what profession she‘d take. I’m thinking of her in the engineering field, working to progress the human lands maybe? Or she stays in the Dawn Court and work as an historian. Idk.

That was fun. When I first read your ask I actually just wanted to tell you that I‘m not a fan of the 4th sister theory and move on, but I decided to think on it. I wanted to draw it all too, but it didn’t come out right 😬

It’s not going to be a part of my remake though. Just a fun little story that could be applied to the original if people don’t have a problem with Bryxias & Feyre’s first meet up being changed. But thanks to you I have a new oc now! 🤗

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Day 6 of @tamlinweek - Spy / Warband

"Prototect your borders Tamlin!" "No, not from us, Tamlin!"

Tam when the Night Court presents him with another 'damned if you do, damned if you don't'.

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Day 4 of @tamlinweek - Powers

Being able to shapeshift himself AND other people is op actually. If only SJM let him unleash his full potential!

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Hc that by Illyrian standards Azriel is considered unattractive.

Illyrians are a more practical group, they’re strong and have traditions they want to follow. They live in cold mountains in camps. Strength and endurance is a top quality, and while Azriel embodies this— He doesn’t look it.

Illyrians want someone whose body reflects their strength. Huge arms, wide wings, tall and bearing tokens of war (scars but not too many scars because that then signifies defeat). Azriel is trained for reconnaissance. His job is to be unnoticeable, being a huge hulking figure doesn’t make that easy. He’s tall and large yes, but he’s not that ideal Illyrian man. Hes just slimmer that average and plays sneaky. Not the big bold way that they believe is honorable. So by the cultures standards, he’s not attractive.

Cassian and Rhys both know this, that their sworn brother is considered “unattractive” by their peers. They never really think about it because that’s their brother, you don’t go around agreeing that your partner in crime is ugly. (Also because he could totally kick their asses and hey you don’t call the guy who is covered in conscious shadows ugly)

It becomes irrelevant as azriel ends up sticking to his job and doesn’t have to often interact with large groups of Illyrians (that gets to be Cassians job).

On the flip side, other groups of fae need that man CARNALLY. What makes him unideal in Illyrian standards makes him the perfect man in theirs. Strong beyond what they could achieve, skilled, quick witted and mysterious—he’s a 10/10.

Rhys learns about this after Azriel makes a rare appearance at a large event to let Rhys know about a new development in one of his missions, the crowd immediately hones in on this hunk of a man. Later, Rhys has to deflect multiple offers of marriage from court nobles.