#~frost writing

[cryoboards]

Collei Moodboard with themes of Sumeru and nature? :D

It's been queued!

[joytri]

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.

Robert Frost

[crowliphale]

The downside of 2/3 of your direct family being covered in fur

[thoughtkick]

In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life. - It goes on.

Robert Frost

[perfectquote]

In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.

Robert Frost

[perfectfeelings]

A poem begins with a lump in the throat.

Robert Frost

[raincoatpng]

I keep drawing characters napping because I can't sleep properly myself and I'm in desperate need of several days (weeks. months. years.) of rest✌️

colouring this was a pain I'm not used to working with this palette auhghh... but oh well this wasn't supposed to be super polished anyway

[ledetlore]

Morning Frost inspired tattoo, lads!! Love him so much, artist is ulfrbarni on insta!! He's on my thigh, my little companion <3

Who knows, maybe I'll get a Kremy alligator some day >:3

[jacksdreams]

There’s a quiet kind of magic in Velaris , the kind that settles into cobblestones and lingers in the air like perfume after laughter.

They say the High Lady’s older sister carries it with her. That wherever she’s been — not where she stayed, just where she was — something begins to grow. At first, no one noticed. But then, after a visit to a lonely corner of the city, tiny blossoms began pushing through stone. Lavender in winter. Ivy curling up walls that hadn't known green in decades. Pale roses blooming along balcony railings where no one had planted a thing.

The florists don’t sell them. The shopkeepers never sweep them away. Artists sketch them in the margins of their canvases. Because the people of Velaris know now: when the flowers come, it means she smiled there once.

Not out of duty. Not for anyone’s sake but her own.

They don’t say her name often, but when they do, it’s soft — almost like a blessing: Elain. The one who sees, the one who blooms, the one whose quiet joy grows roots even in stone.

And if you ever pass a sprig of forget-me-nots growing where it shouldn’t — pause. Let it be.

She was happy there.

🎨: @/somethingdeviant

[lady-of-tearshed]

Request - will you do one where Azriel is trying to seduce his gf who is so tired and overwhelmed of everything that she just ends up hugging him and crying and he comforts her? She kisses him back and lets him pick her up and take her to bed but as soon as he puts his arm around her to unlace her dress she unexpectedly breaks and this happens.

I'll Be There To Hold You

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel has neglected his training with Cassian lately to stay at home with you and your growing babe.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: None.

A/N: Hi hello you! I've made it a teeny tiny bit different from what you've requested, but i think (and i really hope 😅) you'll still like it nonetheless! Enjoy! 💕

Dividers made by @tsunami-of-tears 💙

Azriel hasn’t seen you since Solstice, months ago. The last time he saw you is when you traveled from the Dawn Court on your holiday break to celebrate Solstice with him and his family. 

This past year has been a real test on your relationship. The distance, plus your busy schedules, makes it quite difficult for you to see each other. Azriel would fly over to visit you when he could, and you came back home when you had enough free time to do so. But—Azriel has to remind himself this very often—this whole situation is just temporary. Once you’ll be done with your healer program, you’ll come back to the Night Court, move in together, and you’ll work at Madja’s side, like you always dreamed of. 

Azriel remembers when you used to work under Madja’s command, as her assistant healer. For years, Azriel has tried to make you see the expense of your talent, how much you could achieve with it, and how many lives you could save if you became a healer yourself. All you needed was a little push from Madja, whom offered you to pay for your healer program and become your mentor afterward, for you to finally come out of your shell. 

You had been so worried to move away from Velaris to the Dawn Court’s healer institute.He’s never been able to forget the way you had looked at him that day.You had turned around to face him before embarking the carriage that would take you away from him, assessing any sign of hesitation coming from him. He’s pretty sure that if he had shed a single tear or shown a fragment of hesitation, you would’ve stepped back from this opportunity to stay by his side. But he had stayed strong and held back his tears, because this was—is—your destiny, a chance you simply couldn’t miss, not because of him or anyone. It would’ve been a waste of your incredible potential. 

These past weeks, your correspondences with your boyfriend have been shorter and less frequent. Azriel heart aches everytime you mention how you still find it hard to acclimate to the shift in environment in Dawn, how you struggle to handle your academic workload and how much you miss your friends, family, but mostly him. Your most recent response to his letter truly alarmed your boyfriend. You’ve let it shown that you started doubting your worth as a healer, and you explained how tired and exhausted you were currently feeling, alone on the opposite side of the continent. So Azriel took matters into his own hands. 

Now, there he is, standing on your doorstep with a sweet filled onyx box wrapped in a glittering navy bow. Softly, he knocks on your door, aware that you could potentially still be asleep, although the sun was already far up in the sky. His heartbeat picks up as he picks up the sound of your footsteps coming from the other side of the door. His shadows—being as excited as he is—swirl and twirl around him. The world seems to stop spinning when he sees you opening the door, your eyes looking up at him and oh… Azriel has missed those eyes, terribly so. 

Your whole body stills in the doorway, and Azriel takes his time to admire the sight of you. You look tired, sure. Your hair is messily tied up to the top of your head, your pajama’s—is it one of his shirt you’re weaning?—hands loose off your body, and your lips are parted as you look back at him.

“Az?” 

“Hi, baby.”  

A wet chuckle escapes your lips. You try to hold yourself up by tightening your grip around the doorknob, but before your knees can give up, you’re scooped into Azriel’s arms and pressed into his toned chest. 

“You’re here… Gods, you’re really here…” You sniffle, pulling back from him slowly to make sure that you’re not being half delirious from the lack of sleep. 

“I am, baby. It’s okay.” He feels his heart snapping back into place, like two pieces of puzzle connecting together. Never have your reunions felt so emotional before, but seeing you like this, needing him, makes his heart thump loudly in his chest. 

The two of you eventually make it out of the doorway and settle into your tiny temporary loft. The place smells like you, and Azriel lets himself bask in it. Part of him selfishly hates having you so far away from him these days, but the other part of him, the reasonable one, knows that bringing it up would only make you feel worse. That this—although the whole situation is making it hard on the both of you, but most specifically you—is a good, temporary situation. That the best is to come. 

“I can’t believe you came all the way here,” You whisper, nuzzling deeper into his neck as Azriel lies down onto the couch, keeping you glued atop of him. His wings must be uncomfortable, all squeezed up to fit onto your small couch. 

“Well, you seemed… not quite alright, on the last letter you’ve sent. I…” He frowns, gulping the lump of emotions in his throat down. He presses his lips to your forehead, inhaling deeply the smell of your shampoo from his nose. “I worried. I don’t want to distract you, I know you have a lot of work to do still, and many exams coming up but-”

“Hey,” You cut him off, lifting your head to look into his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here. Thank you.”

Azriel smiles fondly. 

—

You and Azriel spend the rest of the day in your apartment, per your request, cuddling, playing board games, reading books, and eating from the sweet filled box Azriel brought from you favorite candy store. 

Around the end of the day, you find yourself pressed against the counter, your lips having distracted Azriel from his drying task. The kiss, starting out slow and gentle, quickly trunks up in intensity. His lips chase yours more urgently, his tongue demanding entrance which you grant him happily. Azriel groans into hit, his hand removing itself from your right hip to roam up your body. It slips under your shirt, feeling the warmth and the softness of your skin as it moves to your stomach, then higher, higher… 

“Az, wait, I-”

Azriel steps back so quickly you have to hold onto the countertop to regain your balance. He lifts his hands in front of him as if he’d just been caught doing something wrong. Worry is written all over his face and his cheeks heats up. “I’m so sorry, Y/N, I should’ve-”

“No, no,” You quickly cut him off, trying to take your raging breath back to normal. “I… It’s fine. It’s just, uh… It’s not that I don’t want to-”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to-”

“I have an exam tomorrow but-”

“Oh, you’re right, perhaps I should leave to let you rest then-”

“I’d really like you to stay the night, if you want. But as much as I’d like to do indulge in more pleasant activities with you in bed, Az, this exam tomorrow is really important and I need all the rest I can.”

You move closer to Azriel, placing your hands around his neck as his come to rest naturally on your hips. He searches your face, but all he can see is deep love emmating from it. “You… You’re sure you want me to stay the night?”

“The real question here is are you sure you want to stay the night and sleep beside a snoring me in a tiny bed barely big enough for one Illyrian male?”

“I’m sure we could make it work,” He chuckles, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” You breathe against his lips. “Gods, I can’t wait to be fucking done with this formation.”

Azriel hums, scooping you up into his arms and dragging the both of you to bed. He lays down decide you, limb all tangled together with barely a millimeter of space between your two bodies. 

“Good night, baby,” He whispers against your hairline, his arms tightening around your form. “You’re going to do great on your exam tomorrow.”

“You just say that because I’m your girlfriend.” You snort against his chest.

“No, because I really think it.” He says with false indignation. 

You smile fondly, burying your face deeper into Azriel’s body. “Goodnight, Azzie,” You murmur as you let the sound of his breathing gently lull you to sleep. 

[tinrange]

Its actively disheartening to have seen so many reactions to Wen Yifan in the first frost be 'shes constantly being saved' or declarations that Sang Yan is healing her.

Sang Yan as a character is aware that he cannot heal her, he hasnt even been able to fully Access her at this point — including the times they were in highschool. TFF has been making a point to show that he's always been good to her, but goodness and kindness can't "heal" a person, especially one who genuinely feels as though they can't recieve it.

And that loops right back into that very aggravating first point, that Yifan is always being saved and has no agency. In every way that matters, Yifan has saved herself. Shes managed to extricate herself from her familys grasp, even through abuse and grief she managed to keep her scores high, she managed to make it to university and build a career from the ground up, she's even managed to stand up against these family members that have traumatized and retraumatized her repeatedly.

Whsn she doesnt ask Sang Yan for help and he has to rush in and help her its not just a dashing romantic moment, its also her doing what she does best. Saving herself alone. The main crux of Wen Yifans arc isnt whether she can to be saved and fixed, its that constantly saving herself is what's been beating her down and her reception of new love is being hindered by it.

The drama makes it a point to show that she is consistently being harmed in places Sang Yan cant even access, like her workplace and her home, and that she has been taking every Correct Step advised and it still hasnt helped her. She's a victim of familial abuse, literal incest (presumedly), and several forms of harassment from a number of places. Her being on survival mode is whats forcing her hand in being unable to connect with people, and as a woman theres many ways in which that Cannot change without societal reform.

Very depressing to see a character whos arc and hurt is being dealt with so delicately recieve responses in this way.. Sang Yan wanting to support her and be there for her is something of a wish fulfillment fantasy but its also a plead for rest. Yifan is so busy saving herself that its chipping away at her soul. She is constantly on guard, she can't even shower without waiting for that hand to creep around the curtain. Romance is not a vehicle to "return" people to what they were, instead the show is pleading for her to truly try trusting all the people in her circle so that she can finally find new joy and create new happiness.

[redheadspark]

Azriel 9

A/N - Thanks for the request, I hope you like it!

Whipped

Summary - Azriel has it bad, and he won't admit it

Warnings - Fluffiness

“Spill,”

“It’s not your concern, Cassian,”

“It kind of is since you almost killed one of our best recruits,”

Azriel looked from top of the table in front of him over to Cassian, whim had a raised brow at him as he sat across the desk in Rhysand’s chair.  Rhysand was causally behind him, leaning against the tall window of his person study at the River House, his arms crossed and watching the Spymaster who was feeling as though the spotlight was on him. It was, given the recent stunt he pulled and how it came out of nowhere. What he did was not like him: in fact it was far from it.  He was usually cool and calm, his mind was always clear and he knew what the next step would be in his day.

But that day was not like any other day, all because of one person.

Cassian, a small smile on his face, reached over to pour a small glass of whiskey for Azriel.  He reached over to place the glass in font of the Spymaster.  Azriel glared at Cassian, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“Come on, we’re all friends here, best to get if off your chest now while you can,” Cassian joked as Rhsyand rolled his eyes.

“You’re not going to let him down when it comes to this, are you?” Rhsyand asked Cassian lightly, whom was still watching Azriel with his trained eyes.  Azriel hated this, he would rather be back at the camps with the reckless recruits that were too cocky for their won good than be  here with his two childhood friends that knew which buttons to push.  But this was his own doing, and he took the whiskey to drink it in one go with grimace.

“Damn, and that’s my good whiskey as a gift from your High Lady,” Rhysand grumbled in amusement as Azriel clanked the glass back on the desk top.  He sighted, rubbing his face in frustration. 

“Azriel, best to let it out than keep it in,” Cassian advised his old friend and fellow Illyrian.  Azriel took in a long breath, closing his eyes for a moment.  It felt like he was about to go through an insane torture session, but he was one being tortured not the other way around.  

It was best to let it out than keep it in, even with how embarassing it was.

Earlier that day he was up at the camp, the winter winds whirling above the camp as most of the recruits were out and about for a day of training.  Azriel wasn’t meant to be there, he had obligations back at Velaris with plenty of paperwork to keep him busy and his mind occupied.  He was distracted as of late, he could admit to that.  He hated being distracted, it was the last thing he needed.

It wasn’t one thing that made him distracted, more like someone.  A particular person in fact, whom was been haunting him for some years.  This person was someone who crept into his life from the first meeting.

It was you: a high fae from Dawn Court.

Who were hired to come to Night Court by your old back in Dawn Court, you were head of security for the high fae families and was now needed in Night Court to not only fight alongside the Illryians but to train them as well.  You were a tougher leader, someone none of the soldiers expected when Cassian introduced you to the entire camp.  Of course, some Captains grumbled at the notion of a female running a camp and giving out orders.  But that didn’t stop Cassian from being smug and happy at the notion of someone else training the cocky newbies.

Azriel met you with a firm handshake and a shy smile.  But your own smile made his heart race, it was so wide and seemed so pure and genuine.  How can someone with a hard shell be so gentle in a smile and kind in tone?  You were a mystery to him, not to mention the rare beauty that you had in the shine of your hair.  

How can someone make him question all that he knew?  

That was months ago, and you and Azriel grew a good friendship with one another.  You both worked with each other constantly, helping out with new training tactics, putting the recruits in their place, even  where to place security throughout Night Court and Velaris.  You had plenty of ideas to share with Azriel, whom was taking in all you told him.  He loved hearing what you had to say, taking his own notes.

But that also meant his own feelings would get to him from time to time.  He would catch himself watching you for a few seconds longer, his gaze lingering when you would walk away to chat with the others captains  or go over paperwork in one of the main tents.  He hated that it was distracting him or making his thoughts wander, but he couldn’t help it either.  This never happened to him before, not with anyone else in his life.

He was catching feelings, and it was saying him.

The day it went too far was when you were chatting with one of the Captains out the outskirts of the camp.  Azriel could only watch from the other side of the camp, seeing with burning eyes as the Captain was chatting with you as if you two were old friends.  You weren’t, in fact you barely chatted with anyone else there almost the Illyrian.  You had a few friends in Velaris where you were living since it was not safe for you to be a female captains amongst plenty of Illryians.

Azriel felt like he was about to throw up and pass out at the same time as you were still talking to that Captain, your smile radiating like the sun and your long hair in brains behind you,  He hated this, hated how a simple gaze from you can change his day or how hearing your speak would make his world a bit brighter.  And because of those light feelings, jealousy was ensuing.  This was also new: the Spymaster of Night Court behind jealous or anyone talking to you or making you laugh.  Why would he be concerned about this?  Who was he to worry about you and whom you talked to?

Did he love you?

Azriel watched with trained eyes as you were looking uneasy in the conversation then, almost like you were felt off.  But the Captain you were chatting with did not care, he was even hovering a bit closer to you.  Almost a bit too close to Azirel’s liking, who was now seeing red at this point since he could see and almost feel how you wanted to back up and leave the spot.  Azriel knew body language well, and your body linage was putting up red flags.  

The one thing that did change the tides was Illyrian placing his hand on your arm a bit too roughly.

Azriel saw red.

“So…that led you to almost breaking his nose and nearly ripping his throat out?” Rhysand asked tentatively, Azirle grimacing from the question as he sighed and rubbed his eyes with his fingers.  He hated reliving it in his mind, it all felt like flashes that were blinking one moment after another.  But he did remember hitting the Illyrian’s face over, slamming him to the ground like he was a sake of potatoes.  He remembered seeing the shocked look on your face as Azriel stalked away with a clenched first that was speckled in blood.

But he was glad he did it, no matter how bad it looked.

“Rhys, our boy is whipped,” Cassian said in a light manner and a chuckle on his lips.  Azriel glared at him, though Cassian was not scared one bit.  In fact he laughed as Rhysand could not help but smile.  He was nothing to admit that the did have feelings for you, but it was real to him.  He was officially afraid that his feelings made him could his sight, but he also was not going to run from it.  Not like when he would run and his shadows were follow him.

No, he was planted where he was

“Say one more thing about it, and I can rip your wings off with ease,” Azriel warned Cassian, whom just licked his tongue as Azriel poured another friend.

“Yeah, you’re beyond whipped,”

The End

[resqectable]

A poem begins with a lump in the throat.

Robert Frost

[seafoamdew]

Wip after wips after wips

[thoughtkick]

A poem begins with a lump in the throat.

Robert Frost

[thehopefulquotes]

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less travelled by, and that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost