#I love your Eris!!!

[myromanempiree]

stomach sleeping - eris drabble

pt 2 up now!

A hand snaking up your spine, paired with a gentle kiss on the back of your neck, disturbed your slumber. “Doe?” Eris whispered softly. “Are you awake?”

A single nod from you induces a gentle smile on his face. His hand move from your spine to cupping your face. “You can't lay like that, my love.” He said, his voice soft, an enlightened tone only you have had the pleasure of hearing.

You groan, perfectly comfortable. “I'm fine, Eris.” You chastise, curling up into the silken covers, the auburn color a shimmering molten in the moonlight.

As you fall back asleep you let out a sign of protest as his arms wrap around you and turn you over, so you rest in the crook of his arm, back against his chest. “It's bad for the baby.” he retorts.

“I'm hardly two and half months pregnant.” A sigh from your lovely, but worried mate. “That's too many, I mean you've never been pregnant before—”

“Have you?” You said, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “You are a stubborn, foul female.” He whispered.

Despite this the ever-so-gentle, sweet peck to your neck begged of his never ending adoration

a/n: I've never published a fanfic before so this is definitely a WIP, but what do we think of the writing style?? Any notes? I'd take some if offered 😅

[deathbealady]

I keep listening to Sabrina Carpenter’s “Please Please Please” and desperately thinking/crying about how I don’t want SJM to ruin Lucien and Eris for me in future ACOTAR books

just fully looping in my head like “with fire in their veins are the Vanserra brothers, I beg you don’t embarrass me, motherfuckers”

[lucienarcheron]

Eris wearing cobalt is a look 🫦

my guy is not here for this meeting without that wine 😭

he literally does not give a shit 😭

[loneliestluvr]

𝑻𝒐 𝑴𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝑰 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑮𝒐, 𝒊.

i. ii.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron OC

Synopsis: Caught up in a world of hollow grief for her people, her life, and her father, Blair Archeron is forced into a life under the light she wants no part of after ghosting through immortality since being Made. But what she finds, is not what she expects.

Warning: depression, worthlessness, cauldron trauma, angst, that’s kinda it for now tbh.

Word Count: 1.9k

taryn thinks: ive been thinking about eris vanserra for a long time and reading lost bonds by @readychilledwine about tamlin kind of gave me some inspo and motivation i haven’t had in a while to write this. also ttpd because ive been down in the dumps and feeling angsty so… enjoy!! 🫶🏼 i apologize if it’s a bit scrambled lol, i just wanted to write it out.

The fabric Nuala and Cerridwen had dressed her in erased any and all traces of the truth. The destitute it had felt her life became since this newfound immortality ripped everything Blair Archeron had ever known away from her, tucked away. Hidden behind the gauzy chiffon.

There had been small pockets of awareness, of feeling like she had control over herself lately. Where she didn’t rot away in bed, or a chaise— alone and wrapped in the quiet of her mind. Staring into open space, ghosting through whatever this life was.

Those times were hard to come by, and even when the war against Hybern was raging it was decided Blair would stay safe in Velaris. Where she had always remained. Where she did not leave, until today.

It was a pointed argument among their small circle that this life was no better than what Feyre had been through with Tamlin, but Blair did not fight it. Simply… existed inside of it.

It wasn’t that nobody tried to help, they did. They asked questions, gave the second eldest sister every chance to open up. To get out, to experience this new world. To talk.

Elain would argue even when she did, it was mere hollows of the person Blair had been who responded. The echoes that remembered how to speak, that walked so smoothly and carelessly that she seemed to float on a hot wind.

Blair was not fearless, she was not cunning, she was not soft, nor was she anything that her sisters were. She was simply… other.

And maybe that was the furthest thing from simple, that there were no words to describe the ethereal beauty of her hollowness. Maybe there never would be.

Blair didn’t seem to mind, and she got away with it.

Content was the feeling that seemed the most appropriate to describe the life she lead now. Moved into her youngest sisters River Home, with a large room at the end of the house overlooking the winding waters. The gardens Elain had crafted and tended when she wasn’t at the townhouse sat below, the large expanse of the land out to the river in full view. The snow capped mountains that danced across the skyline, one’s she sometimes watched Feyre paint in front of from her window day after day, month after month.

She supposed she had it coming when Nesta was forced to the House of Wind. When her older sister by a mere year had pointed out that Blair had amounted to nothing in the time Nesta had been taken hostage inside that House on the side of the mountain. When Nesta had been expected to work and be something, Blair had still remained as useless as before.

“She is adjusting,” Feyre had argued on Blair’s behalf. Blair had been the kindest of their sisters to Feyre when they were in that cabin, poor and broken and nothing. Who had helped with no qualms, who had genuinely cared for them all— even their seemingly worthless father. “—she did not ask for this, the same as you. At least she is not drinking herself to death.” The smartest of them, as Feyre had described to Rhys’ Inner Circle before those meetings in the mortal realm, others would have thought the same if they knew her before.

Before she became this… thing.

“You let her wither away, sitting about in her sadness and grief and her muteness. I would think she had forgotten how to speak if it weren’t for the utterly mundane responses she gives.” Nesta had barked back at their little sister while Blair sat by the window, unmoving. Her face a mask of cool indifference like she wasn’t quite hearing anyway. “How is what she’s doing any different than what I have? Because she isn’t spending your money? Because she hasn’t tainted Rhysand’s precious Court image?”

She didn’t care how they spoke of her, didn’t care to defend herself from Nesta’s forked tongue— it took more energy than she had to argue. Blair could have washed away right into the water that rushed through the river she stared into for all she cared.

Everything had just gone so… wrong from that point. As if Nesta’s breaking point was seeing her first baby sister be so broken and discarded, she had ripped into a secret nobody had even bothered to tell Feyre or Blair— that Feyre’s babe would kill her.

The rest had been a blur like usual after and here they were, dressed and gowned in the finest clothes they had. In the short time since finding out about Feyre’s deadly predicament, everyone seemingly had agreed with Nesta about Blair’s lack of presence in their court… or any at all.

The only people who knew she existed were those that were present when she was forced into the bitterly cold water of the cauldron. When it had felt as though she drowned, that she had died there and something else had filled her body. Felt as though she could only see herself from outside of her body, outside of whatever she had became.

Blair Archeron would be making her debut to the Court of Nightmares in the same fashion Feyre would be revealing her pregnancy. She didn’t know much else, didn’t care for the details or even why Nesta had been training in dances they both knew since childhood. Just what she was to wear and to come when called.

To admit the dress she was now wearing wasn’t utterly beautiful would be a disgrace in itself, and she looked stunning.

Despite her pointed ears being viewable, Blair’s long and heavy gold-brown hair had been curled gorgeously, cascading down her freckled and fair bare back to cover where her dress did not. Kissing and tickling the skin when she moved her head, half of her hair pulled back from her face into loose twirls and braids.

Her face painted in light cosmetics that she didn’t need. It was no secret that her beauty came first out of the four sisters, even before dear Elain’s— skin freckled, dark lashes and brows, cheeks usually tinted pink naturally. But her eyes, her eyes were the rarest of her sisters and what made her so profoundly different.

A base of that gray-blue that grew more vibrant as it met her pupil. But the flecks of nearly golden amber splattered like an artist had flicked their wrist in a rush is what made them so different.

Why the black of her dress fit her so much better than it did poor Elain, her second youngest sister nearly washed out by the bleak darkness she had been presented to wear.

The dress clinging to Blair’s torso was bedecked in gold sparkling beads that formed lines of detail along the bodice and the hem by her feet, the fabric black beneath it. Hugging tight to her figure. Eating and drinking had gotten easier after the war and had allowed her to fill out again.

Her full breasts wrapped tight to her chest where they sat prettily, the dips in her hips and waist outlined by the sheer sleeves that flared well past her hands, capped around her shoulders but left her back utterly bare despite the illusion of the chiffon looking like a cape.

The dress hung from her body as she waited almost carelessly to enter the throne room of Hewn City, and Blair felt a little like she might die.

The air here, anywhere, was so much colder than the sweltering heat of her bedroom where she kept the fire roiling day and night— where she felt like she was at home even if it was just in her head. Sleeping on the floor in front of it most nights, where the crackling of the fire could drown out the sound of her thoughts. Where the warmth could make her feel something other than empty.

Now. Feyre’s voice rang warmly in Blair’s head, echoing outside of the thick walls of forest she’d been taught to put up. Spruce and oak, winding paths lined with red poppy’s and orange geraniums, fogged over meadows to traipse through at will. A maze for anyone else, with no beginning and no end.

The rest of them had gone in a half hour ago it seemed, Blair to be used if they needed to pull a distraction or anything. She would be introduced no matter what, but timing was to be used as an advantage.

The towering doors to the throne room boomed open as Blair turned the corner to the hallway, the curls in her hair bouncing with every step despite the light wind billowing through her flowing sleeves as if she were gliding.

The music continued as she kept her head high and entered the space, hands folded neatly in front of her. A small upward twitch of her pretty red lips, her face calm and still.

Still as the room became when her feet hit the marble across that threshold.

She walked, one foot in front of the other. Head in a full fog before she even entered the throne room— but there was a tug. Something that had almost made her stumble, but she sucked in a tight breath as she focused on the dais ahead.

Pulling, tugging, a line going taut the closer she became and her vision cleared. Someone that had been in deep discussion before Blair entered, someone now turned to face her as everyone else did.

All but the Court of Dreamers gaping at her, at her beauty. So much different than her obvious sisters, a third sister to the High Lady of the Night Court, but so much the same that it was easily distinguishable. Gasps and whispers filling Blair’s now clear ears, but she didn’t look anywhere but the male in front of Rhys and Feyre— as much as she wanted to. As much as she pleaded with herself to look away, she could not.

The bright auburn hair, the pale and freckled skin of his handsome face. All fae were gorgeous, she’d been told and equally come to learn but… just the very look of him made her skin heat.

A look of something similar washed through his amber eyes, the matching amber to the flecks in her own, his throat bobbing.

Something like devastation went through this male and though Blair couldn’t tear her eyes from his as she finally made those last steps to the dais, she could see Rhys’ mask slip ever so slightly from the corner of her eye before it went back up.

There was a part of her, so enamored by whoever this person was— and something about him made her slip back into consciousness. That outside look at herself faded back into her own body and she didn’t realize until she breathed again that her heart had been beating so rapidly.

Or that she hadn’t addressed her High Lord and Lady.

Or that they’d demanded the crowd go back to dancing and drinking and eating.

Or that all she did was face this male, a look of shocked confusion painting her usually dull expression because somehow, someway, she felt like she knew him.

And that the tug she felt, that line, went utterly taut before him.

🏷️: @thehighladywrites and anyone else that wants to be added to a tag list for this or anything else lmk lmfao

[luck-of-the-drawings]

!!! FLASHING LIGHTS WARNING!!! [IM NOT FUCKIN AROUND!!]

REACHED THE CUSP OF 'THIS MAY NEVER BE ABSOLUTELY FINISHED N IF I DONT SHOW IT NOW, IT WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY.' SO HERE, A PROJECT IVE BEEN ORBITING AROUND UHH SINCE 2021 OR SO.

[cthoniccompanion]

I'm so deadly serious when I say I want it to be revealed that eris and melinoë are exes

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part XVIII

Find all previous parts on Ao3 :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge thank you to the lovely @sad-scarred-sassy who deserves all the credit for the post that inspired me to start writing this :) Another huge thank you to everyone reading! ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 / @cauldronblssd / @xirose / @rarephloxes / @thehighlordishere / @the-darkestminds /

Lucien adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, wanting to look his absolute best during the dinner his father had decided to personally invite him to. 

The corridor was empty and quiet, Eris was his only company as they both waited for Elain to finish getting ready for the evening. Lucien could sense she was equally as nervous to be spending more time with his family. 

He bit the inside of his cheek as he straightened his jacket. 

“Stop worrying,” Eris snapped, voice cold and uncaring, as if he could not be bothered to reassure his youngest brother. Lucien thought It sounded more like an order than an attempt to settle him. 

He sighed as he faced the High Lord’s heir. “Are we late?” 

Eris rolled his eyes, the torches along the walls flashing momentarily. “Take a breath and stop fidgeting, this dinner is a peace offering.” 

While his brother had not actually answered his question, Lucien was almost sure Eris would have made an effort to rush them if they were at risk of upsetting their father. He had once believed wholeheartedly that Eris would not let any harm come to him. After Jesminda’s death, he had come to the conclusion that Eris only had his own best interests in mind. 

Lucien looked at Eris as they continued to wait for Elain, questioning if his eldest brother fell somewhere in the middle of his assumptions. Eris had gone out of his way to ensure Lucien had been released from the dungeons, and had proven himself an ally to Elain. 

Lucien’s golden eye clicked into place and Eris turned to face him. 

Eris frowned as their eyes met, almost as though he knew exactly what Lucien was thinking about. The torches flared once more as he opened his mouth to speak, but the doors to the chambers opened suddenly and they both turned to face Elain and Cora. 

All of Lucien’s thoughts about what Eris might have said had they not been interrupted quickly left his mind as Elain walked elegantly into the corridor.

Lucien straightened as she approached, her dress was lovely, the material fading from black to orange, her skirts looking like the forest floor as they dragged along the stone ground. Like most dresses in Autumn, it was modest, and very little of her skin showed. Elain had pinned her hair up with the comb of pearls Eris had gifted her, and Lucien’s eyes fell to the pale column of her throat. 

Elain Archeron was stunning, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and Lucien suddenly became very aware of the scars that marred his face.

Elain looked at him and blushed, she paused, skirts in her hands as she spoke. “Sorry to make you both wait, it took Cora ages to figure out the ties,” she laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the corridor, echoing loudly in Lucien’s mind. 

“Did it?” Eris raised a brow at Cora as she shut the doors to the suite and walked to Elain’s side. 

Wrinkling her nose in distaste, she said, “I hate Autumn Court gowns.” 

“Some lady’s maid you are,” Eris replied with a scoff, clearly intending to annoy her.

“Do all the clothes really need so many laces and buttons?” Cora clipped, gesturing to the back of Elain’s dress. “Hardly my fault the females here have to suffer in such a fashion.” 

Eris waved a hand lazily and Lucien watched with great interest as his brother’s lips tilted up at the corners, flames in his eyes. “You should have stayed in Night, where the nobles have much simpler tastes.” 

Cora looked prepared to bite back a response, but Lucien pitied the poor female for having to put up with Eris’s moods and spoke before the situation could escalate.

“You look beautiful, Elain.” 

His mate blushed an even darker shade of red. “Thank you,” she said softly, trailing her eyes from his booted feet to the high neckline of his jacket. “You look nice, too.” 

Lucien bowed his head, keeping their gazes locked. It felt as if just the two of them were in the dark space, that no one else existed beyond them. 

Lovely. 

Elain was breathtakingly beautiful, and Lucien questioned the cauldron’s decision to make them mates. 

Eris cleared his throat, shattering the silence between them along with the illusion that only Lucien and Elain were present. 

“You also look very handsome, Eris.” Elain added as she reached for Lucien’s arm. He offered it to her without hesitation, and she grabbed onto him with no consideration. If it were not for the amusement ringing in her tone, Lucien might have been irrationally jealous at the statement. 

Cora hummed in agreement, and Lucien could have sworn a flicker of shock flashed across his brother’s features as he glanced at the Night Court female. “Are family dinners always so… formal?” She asked none of them in particular. 

Eris merely shrugged in response, “It’s not every night you welcome back an exiled son.” 

Lucien nodded, keeping his expression serious. “I’m so flattered.” 

Elain giggled at his side and Lucien caught himself genuinely smiling. 

“Wish your lady’s maid a goodnight,” Eris interrupted, “we should be going.” 

“I’ll find you in the morning,” Elain promised, waving at her friend as Eris began to walk away.

“Enjoy yourselves,” Cora called after them and Lucien almost snorted, knowing the evening would probably be torturous. 

Elain was comfortable as she loosely held onto his arm, her heartbeat steady, nothing negative making its way down the bond. Eris slowed his steps, letting them catch up, and he walked next to Elain. 

As soon as they walked up a flight of stairs, ensuring there was enough distance between them and Cora, Elain used the hand that was not holding onto Lucien to swat his older brother. 

“You could use her name,” she scolded, "it's not as if you don’t know it.” 

Lucien’s mouth fell open in silent shock. He wondered when his eldest brother might have last been chastised, who might have been brave enough to dare. 

“Whose?” Eris said, disdain dripping from the one word, although it was obvious he knew who Elain was referring to.  

Elain hit him again, this time with more force. “You could be nice,” she suggested, disappointment lining her lovely features.

“Being nice might actually kill him,” Lucien mumbled, but they both seemed content to ignore his presence. 

“Stop hitting me,” Eris said, sounding unbothered.

As Elain raised her gloved hand one more time, Eris did not miss a single step as he winnowed to Lucien’s side, maintaining their pace effortlessly. 

Elain attempted to get through to him one last time, leaning past Lucien so she could frown at him. “It’s rude, Eris,” she observed. “You ought to know as much.”  

Lucien could have told her that arguing with Eris was akin to arguing with a stone wall, but he watched as they interacted, surprised at how comfortable they seemed to be with each other.

“Remember yourself at dinner,” Eris warned, “I’m not too sure that the rest of my brothers will appreciate your more violent side.” 

While Lucien could tell Eris was not being serious, he felt as Elain tensed, clearly worried by the words. 

Lucien shot Eris a glare, but his brother had already begun to speak, paying attention only to his mate.  

“You’ve managed to charm even my father, Elain Archeron,” Eris added, having noticed her change in demeanour, and Lucien was grateful as she straightened her shoulders back. She already looked more confident as Eris gave her a final piece of advice. “So keep at it.” 

Eris’s praise was enough for Elain to maintain an attitude that made her seem entirely at ease among the most important family in the Autumn Court. While the High Lord sat at the head of the rectangular table, no one else faced him from across the other side. 

Lucien’s mother was at his father’s left side, and Eris was on his right. Elain had quickly found her place sitting between Lucien and the Lady of Autumn, who she spoke with softly, answering all of his mother’s pleasantly worded questions while everyone else ate their perfectly cooked meal. 

Lucien was surprised with how well-behaved his brothers were, considering how he had witnessed more than enough brawls during their family dinners before he had been exiled. Beron watched with observant eyes, paying attention to the conversation between Elain and his wife. 

Eris had said very little, just like Lucien remembered, choosing to eat slowly and avoid meaningless small talk. Callum was expectedly next to their eldest brother, looking at the very least like he was carefully listening to Elain as she spoke. Ronan had drunk so much wine Lucien was wondering if he would be able to walk out of the dining room on his own, which seemed a bit unusual. Felix had his elbows on the table, head resting on his fist, decidedly choosing to be disrespectful. Lucien was surprised that their father had yet to say anything, knowing how much the High Lord valued appearances. 

“I was thinking of sending invitations out in the next couple of days,” Lucien heard his mother say, a repressed excitement in her voice. She placed her napkin next to her full plate. “Of course, Night will be receiving theirs first.” 

“Thank you,” Elain added, “We’d been planning a smaller affair, very few knew about it outside our little circle of friends.” She glanced to Lucien shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear endearingly before turning her attention back to the Lady of Autumn. 

“We could send Spring an invitation,” Beron added, voice quiet but authoritative. He looked at Lucien with a raised brow, “We wouldn't want to offend Tamlin.” 

“How considerate,” Lucien said, feeling his teeth grit in annoyance. 

“And we must invite the human queen and her general,” his father continued.

“I don’t expect them to travel into our court.” Lucien responded, wanting his friends to stay far away from the Forest House. 

“Why not?” Felix asked. “We have such a lovely court,” he flashed Lucien a grin daring him to argue. 

Lucien set his cutlery down with a loud sound as it hit against the side of his plate. 

“I don’t care much for Queen Vassa,” Elain interrupted before Lucien could say anything. There was honesty in her words, he could tell, perhaps even a hint of jealousy, but he knew she was only saying it for his benefit, 

Elain had come to his defence in the hopes that Beron would leave his friends alone, and the respect he had for his mate only soared at the thought.

Ronan chuckled, raising his glass in a salute towards Elain, which she returned elegantly despite her clear discomfort at being addressed directly. “I like your mate’s honesty, little brother,” he confessed before drinking deeply.

Beron hummed in response, placing his hand, palm up, onto the table. Lucien watched as his mother laced their fingers together, the gesture coming to them naturally. His much larger hand engulfed her smaller one, and Lucien had to fight the urge to wince.   

Everyone went back to eating in silence, and Lucien recalled the countless family dinners he had silently sat through. With Beron present, his brothers were achingly careful with their words and their actions, not wanting to upset him. It was like trying to walk in the woods without snapping a branch, nearly impossible without practice, but each of them had learned to read their father’s moods. 

As though Elain could sense the troublesome direction of Lucien’s thoughts, she placed a comforting hand on his knee. Covered by the table, no one else noticed the startlingly soft gesture. 

Lucien realised quickly that Elain’s action had not been for show, that it had not been a part of their roles, it was simply a moment shared between the two of them.

[climbthemountain2020]

The Adventure - Eris Week Day 5

@erisweekofficial Day 5: War/Adventure

Biggest thanks ever to @cauldronblssd and @witch-and-her-witcher for the beta reads on this. Also @cauldronblssd made this mood board and I haven't stopped laughing since hahaha.

Ao3 Link

For some sibling bonding after a lost bet, Lucien takes Eris to experience a rite of passage. But is Eris ready to enter this new, strange world?

“Lucien, are you absolutely certain about this?”

“Eris, seriously?” Lucien rebutted with a long-suffering sigh, pulling the car around the nearly empty lot.

He shot him a look, irritation and wariness clear on his face.

“Don't Eris, seriously me. This place looks like it might give me tetanus if I touched any surface for too long.” There were dark clouds building on the low horizon, and Eris couldn’t help but see it as a portent of things to come.

“You're too high brow. You need to relax and come join the rest of us plebeians for some joy every once in a while.”

Lucien slammed the car into park, Eris huffing as his head slapped back against the seat. Years of experience hadn't made Lucien any better at driving, though Lucien seemed entirely unaware of it every time he got into a car to put the rest of the community at risk. Eris rubbed the back of his skull with a hand while Lucien ignored him. As always, Lucien was calm and collected as he pulled his keys from the ignition, an assured air in everything he did that Eris had never experienced a single day in his life without faking it.

“I'm certain I just saw a man fighting a raccoon behind that dumpster.” Eris was only half kidding.

Lucien smiled broadly, the wisps of their mother's copper hair hanging loosely around his face. “I'm not gonna discount that. That means the food is good.” Eris wasn’t sure if Lucien was more than half-kidding, either.

He grimaced, but followed suit as Lucien opened his door. The air here was hot, muggier somehow that it was further inland in the city. Lucien spent his time further out by the coast, his and Elain’s pricey beach house intentionally looking well-used and well-worn. It was both opulent and cozy somehow, but Lucien fit in out here. He enjoyed being surrounded by people and novelty and community.

Eris, on the other hand, preferred his upgraded, updated, historical and now very fashionable Tabby home in the center of the city. He liked being a brief drive or walk from wherever he needed to go–typically a drive because the air here was insufferably heavy year round. When he'd been promoted last year and found that the new offices were on the Lowcountry coast, he'd envisioned antebellum architecture, sandy beaches, and swaying palms. What he’d not anticipated was that every single season seemed to be covered in a weighted blanket of salty sea air heavy enough to bring sweat to your lip the second you stepped outside the loving, protective bubble of the air conditioning.

“It's a crime you've lived here this long and never been here.”

Eris scoffed, looking down his nose at the squat building, tones of yellow, red, and gray mixing in a discordant mix of colors that didn't quite fit together. He had acquiesced, though, after losing a bet with Lucien last week, who had been absolutely appalled to hear Eris had never been to a Waffle House.

“Stop acting like you’re going to war. It’s literally a Waffle House, Eris.”

Lucien opened the door, gesturing his brother through. He was greeted with the smell of frying meats and brewing coffee, twisting around his nose and enveloping his senses lovingly against his better judgment. Eris paused for a moment before opening the inner door, wondering if he might use his handkerchief to open the greasy helm of this establishment, but Lucien was already there grabbing it.

“Pussy.”

Eris gritted his teeth and shoved him, following Lucien in, who was of course waving at everyone, looking like an old friend.

“Lu! Back so soon? It's not Wednesday!” The cook was a rotund older man, his salt and pepper stubble covering every inch of his lower face. He could have been someone’s grandfather had his face not been entirely filled with prison tattoos.

“Can't stay away, Bo. The waffles call to me.” Lucien slid easily into a seat at a booth by the windows, Eris following suit and grimacing as the hard plastic of it cracked against his tailbone.

“How often do you come here?”

“At least once a week. Elain loved their grits bowls when she was pregnant with Lara, and then we just made it a habit.”

Eris startled as a grizzled old woman seemed to suddenly appear at the side of their table, her haggard appearance reminding him of the witch masks they used to sell at Kmart in the early 90s.

“Rena! I haven't seen you in awhile. I wondered if you were still here.” The aged woman grinned a near-toothless smile at his little brother. She reeked of stale cigarettes layered over the smell of coffee and the cloying undercurrent of weed. Her curled bangs were teased to the skies, and her baby blue eyeshadow was sparkling over wrinkled eyelids.

“Yeah, well I was workin’ night shift until Katie beat the shit out of Carl on Sunday. Now I'm coverin’ until we can find someone else.” The drawl to her voice was unmatched, truly a relic from the coasts down here.

Lucien let out a low whistle. “That was bound to blow up eventually.”

What the fuck is happening, Eris whispered under his breath. How did Lucien know these people?

Rena shot him an ugly look, not missing his comment, but Lucien stepped in. “It's my brother’s first time. Gotta pop the Waffle House cherry,” he laughed out, wiggling his eyebrows at Rena. She turned and shot Eris a mocking, saccharine smile while Eris fought the urge to roll his eyes.

She sat a menu down lovingly in front of Lucien, as though cradling a laminated babe, then haphazardly tossed Eris’ at him.

“Coffee?”

Eris and Lucien both nodded and Rena left to go grab mugs.

“How the hell do you know all these people, Lucien?”

“I told you, I'm here at least once a week. If you're not a surly asshole all the time, people talk to you.”

“Then thank God I'm a surly asshole.”

Eris looked down at the brightly colored and slightly sticky menu. He wasn't sure where to begin, and some of the combinations of food were things he'd never even seen before.

“Why would you put scrambled eggs into your grits?”

“Careful. Elain might have your skin for talking shit on her favorite breakfast.” Eris grimaced. “Everything is great, truly you can't go wrong.” Lucien wasn't even looking at the menu, probably assuming he'd just say “my regular” when the waffle bog witch returned.

And return she did, silently again as Eris fought the urge to jump, setting two steaming mugs of coffee down. She was unsettling, a single milky eye tracking him with absolutely unveiled distaste as she dropped a bowl of tiny creamer pods in front of him with a clatter.

“What'll ya have?”

Damn. Eris hadn't decided yet. Lucien, annoyingly gallant, just grinned with all his teeth, pulling her attention to him.

“I'll get my usual.”

Knew it.

“And he’ll have the hashbrowns, double order, extra well, smothered and covered. Do you like it spicy?”

Eris nodded, dumbfounded at the string of words leaving his brother's mouth like some sort of code or spell. “Peppered and country, too, Rena, please.”

She smiled at Lucien. “You want a grits bowl for Elain and a to-go chocolate for the little one too?” His grin broadened and his eyes sparkled.

“You're too sweet to us, Rena, but the girls are at the beach today, so just us.” She patted his shoulder.

“You let me know if you need anything else, and I'll get that right in for ya.”

She left without a single look Eris’ way while he tried to decide what just happened and decode what the fuck Lucien had just ordered him.

“How's work been?”

That, Eris could talk about. He dumped a cream and two sugars into his coffee and stirred.

“Fine. Busy lately with the Strayer case.” There had been a big local uproar lately about the Strayer family–old money and a succession of attorneys with a long line of suspicious crimes covered up over the decades. It had finally all come to a head this past year when the wife and youngest son had been brutally murdered on their plantation property.

Eris had been assigned as partial counsel on the case, and it had been consuming all his days and some of his nights, too. It was invigorating in a way work had never been for him before, and he'd been happily enjoying the challenge

“It's all over the news. You're gonna be some big hot shot now?” Lucien asked, teasingly. Eris sipped the coffee, strong and hot and, against his better judgment, not half bad.

Eris couldn't help but laugh at his brother's teasing. With twelve years between them, they hadn't always been close, but it was nice getting to live near him again. He liked Elain, and he enjoyed being around Lara and playing the fun uncle.

“Hardly. But it has been nice.”

“Has dad called?” The question might as well be rhetorical. Their father, a once-prolific attorney himself in North Carolina, would sooner drop dead than offer a word of praise or kindness towards his children.

“Of course not. But I did talk to mom. She said she’ll be down to visit for Christmas?”

“Yeah, she’s staying with us. You’re welcome to stay at the house–”

The food arrived just in time, steaming bowls of…something dropped in front of both of them, then plate after small plate of orders descended until it felt like the whole table was full. Rena ignored him again as she asked Lucien if he needed anything else before leaving.

“What the fuck did you order me?”

He couldn’t deny it smelled heavenly–some sort of monstrosity with a variety of breakfast foods involved.

“Don’t be a dick, Eris. Just try it.” Lucien was already shoveling food into his mouth. Ever since he’d turned ten, he’d become a human garbage disposal. Eris grimaced, but lifted his fork, checking it for cleanliness before tucking in.

Lucien watched him, still shoveling some sort of breakfast sandwich into his mouth.

The hash browns were a crisp caramel color and shining with grease, the melted “cheese” on top giving off a sparkling sheen of plastic. It looked like onion and jalapenos had been mixed in with breakfast sausage. Eris had never in his life seen anything so ridiculous, but it smelled incredible as he raised a forkful to his mouth.

As soon as he bit down, he knew he was a goner. He’d lost, and now he’d have to humble himself in front of his little brother for being right.

“Well?” Lucien was smirking like he already knew.

“Fine.”

“Fine what, Eris? I couldn’t quite get that.”

“It’s delicious.” The words were garbled as Eris was already barrelling another forkful into his face. He’d never had anything like it. It should be illegal to have any breakfast items this good. No wonder this place needed to look like a back alley diner attached to a prison–it would be flooded if everyone found out how good the food was. He was already calculating the time it would take to drive here on his way to work in the mornings.

As if reading his mind, Lucien pointed the fork at him. “Now you have to make friends with Rena”

“I’m not sure anything I say can endear her to me at this point.” They looked over to find Rena outside lighting a blunt in the parking lot. “Something tells me she isn’t a fan of law enforcement.”

Lucien laughed. “Elain brought her fudge. I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Eris was wondering if she might like those cookie baskets the interns were always buying and leaving around the office when she turned, caught him staring, and spit onto the sidewalk while maintaining eye contact with him.

“Yeahhhhh, I’m not gonna hold my breath on that.”

Before he knew it, Eris was scraping the bottom of the plate, the last slips of hash browns evading his fork while Lucien leaned back in his seat, sated.

“Now wasn’t that a lovely breakfast, Eris?” Instead of answering, he swigged down the dregs of his coffee, more satisfied than he’d been at a breakfast in, well, ever.

“Yes, yes. You win, I yield.”

“See, now, if you’d just be more open to going places with me without having to lose a bet to do it, who knows what you might find?”

Eris grumbled something unintelligible.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” The wild eyes of his littlest brother sparkled with mischief as he leaned across the table.

“I’m NOT going to South of the Border with you, Lucien. I don’t care how many times or ways you ask.” But there was a hint of amusement in Lucien’s voice as he issued a responding cackle, the two brothers happy and laughing in the marbled gray plastic booths of the Waffle House.

Taglist: @erisweekofficial @chunkypossum @clockwork-ashes @acourtofladydeath @secret-third-thing @the-darkestminds

[sistersofsilver]

despite whatever melinoë thinks is happening and what eris is actually doing i know aren't lining up right. but i know strife is trying to get local titan killer to speak her mind more.

"Tsch! No! Whatever you say!"

[jinhogae]

BLACK AND BLUE ⤿ for @xiaojuun 💙

[myromanempiree]

Eris Vanserra

A series of Eris x Fem!Reader headcanons

tw: the last two are NSFW

Eris Vanserra who gently cradles you in his arms when days get too hard and the months draw too long, thumb gently tracing circles right where your shoulder meets your arm.

An Eris that is obsessed with you hips, cradling them in his hands while you get ready and resting his head on your shoulder.

Eris who adores when you call him sickly sweet pet names like baby, honey or even sugar. It reminds him that he is no longer under the abusive strenuous reign of his father, and safe with the love of his life.

He adores any body fat, stretch marks or other "imperfections", they ground Eris, and remind him he is different than his father, that if he was a lesser male like his father, he would have been disgusted with them.

Also, they are the only scars on ones body that you don't get from pain. Just change. And here of late, he finds change to be beautiful.

Eris that watches you get ready with an adoring look on his face, eyes darting around, curious about what his mate does to make them so perfect. (he never finds out, just concludes you are Mother-sent.)

You often find Eris with his hounds, either out in the forest, or his favorite resting her head on his lap as he does High Lord work.

Eris who prefers intimate sex, Eris that grips the soft flesh of your waist and watches your face contort to pleasure as he thrusts into you.

Eris that groans every time he moves into you, inhaling the delicious scent of your arousal, knowing he was the male that caused it

a/n - I'm too horny to live in Prythian. I would get knocked up so quick.

[lizzieraindrops]

BRING ME PINS FOR MY RED STRING BOARD

Eris looked to the last card. The Wish puzzled her. A wish is desire, the greatest power in this universe. Eris had wished before. It had led her here. Would she be asked to wish again? What else would her desire wrought? Turning away, Eris left the cards on the table and took her questions with her.

From the Ex Diris exotic grenade launcher lore. This will obviously be highly relevant to the resolution of Season of the Witch. What does Eris really want??

guiding others down the same path that saved me. But... I might allow myself to want more than peace. What, I am not certain. Is joy the word? Might I find that again?

From Eris' last radio message in Season of the Haunted. Once resigned to misery, Eris now wants something more than the peace she has gained helping others process and survive trauma like hers. She even entertains the once-impossible idea of seeking joy in her life.

"Hey," Drifter said. "You find that joy yet?" "Soon," Eris answered. "Joy is built... but I have taken the first step."

From the IV. Tether in the Purpose lorebook from Season of the Deep. She's seeking the joy, folks! But still, what does she want?

I am lost in these lunar tunnels. Out of ammo. Short on Light. I am out of moves, save one. I clutch an Ahamkara bone in one hand, and my dead Ghost in the other. I hear a whisper. My vision is gone. My face itches from the viscous flow from my eyes. Though I can't see, I find that I suddenly know the way out.

From the Cloak of the Great Hunt lore all the way back in Forsaken. She wants what she's always wanted, what she originally wished upon an Ahamkara bone for. A way out. Of the Hellmouth, of her personal misery, of the Sword Logic and the greater horrific positive feedback loop of violence that the Hive have been enacting upon the universe for billenia.

Your star got its name from the oldest myths in that archive. and when your mother told your father that story...the star became your name. A prayer that all will go as it must... and the way it must go is struggle." "Aiat." Not a word in Ulurant or any other Cabal tongue. "But Caiatl means something else." "Yes. 'It may not always go as it needs to go.' A good name for a soldier." (emphases mine)

From Caiatl's journal in the Lightfall Collector's edition. A way out!!! It keeps coming up in the lore again and again. Ending vicious cycles and finding out what's beyond them, even the Hive's unstoppable AIAT.

Recovery is a spiral, not a circle. You may return to the same patterns, but you will break free." —Eris Morn

From the Refashioned Shapes (!!!) ship from Shadowkeep. Perhaps the most iconic Eris line in the game. This is who she has always been! This is what she has always sought. By finally fully embracing and claiming the way the Hive have affected her, she is going to paradoxically END THE HIVE'S CYCLE OF VIOLENCE. The HIVE!!! She is going to FREE HERSELF and in doing so FREE THE HIVE FROM THE SWORD LOGIC!!!!!

[queenofqueensarcheron]

Can you imagine the chaos a friendship between Nesta, Azriel and Eris would be like. I just need them to like go on a mission somewhere for whatever reason in the next book. And then Nesta does something with her powers because she doesn’t fully control or even understand them. Because nobody is really teaching her. Like she blows up a tiny mountain or something . And all she says is “oops” or she starts thinking that Rhys is actually going to ���� her. And instead of screaming at her, they all start laughing so much that their belly starts hurting.

Can you imagine the chaos. Please give it to me 🙏🙏🙏

[novaricewrites]

Sometimes I almost understand those half-feral artists with their muses.

It is absurd how much the idea of Tamlin and Lucien have me in a chokehold. Especially when SJM likely did not mean for me as an audience to contemplate them like this. And the more she means for the readers to hate on the characters, the more I end up thinking about them.

Socially awkward and complex character who never wanted to be in a position of power, was pretty much set up for failure by the narrative from the start? Also has hobbies as a musician and writes limericks? Tragic and absolutely has my attention.

A loyal, silver-tongued man with burning red hair and sad brown eyes? A past drenched in loss, loneliness and betrayals? Completely done wrong by the author and other characters around him and isn't given justice? I am weak.

Yes the characters and the series have problems (which also drive me up the wall) but sometimes I want to be a simple girl and appreciate simple ideas and pretty things.

Some characters are so very lovely to me in an abstract way and I can't explain it. I love the idea of characters but often the lost potential makes me sad.

That is all.

[flowerflamestars]

Timeloop snippet

Eris Vanserra was born in a land where magic lived. Alive under his fathers hands, shaped  by a raised voice, his mothers tears, changed and shifted by the year or the day, the stars and his brothers, the sun and his bothers.

Old was Autumn, bloodied long before Eris had looked through the ancient hungry trees with a childs smoke spark eyes. No amount of the blood that indeed followed had fully shaken wonder from him. Horror and hate held fast, won often, but Eris was not man who discounted what was wild of faery, even if it existed outside his reach. The Courts were older still, but not eternal. What was truly immortal, among immortals, was what Elain Archeron had in her damned garden shed. Eris watched, still past stone, body screaming warning, as she slipped past him, light summer gown trailing flagstone, just to croon hello and rap her knuckles against the wide iron rim as though she were entering a building. Her head tipped- hearing what he could not, as though Eris could hear anything at this moment over his own heart, rendered prey by greater power- Elain smiled down into murky, glowing water, before twisting to grin over her shoulder. “It was lonely,” Expression gentle, a little line forming between her intriguing eyes, their darkness catching otherworldly light. “They buried it again. Alone in the dirt.”

[catboyazem]

eris morn