#AMARANTHA DID IT ASSHOLES

[achaotichuman]

I still have no idea how people can stan Rhysand and think Feysand is the best romance ever, and totally healthy when he LEGIT MADE HER CRY SO HE COULD FORCE HIS PLAN FOR NESTA ONTO HER

FEYRE HAS BEEN GROOMED PEOPLE, IT IS SO FUCKING OBVIOUS

THIS IS NOT BADASS YAAS QUEEN HIGH LADY, THIS IS A 20 YEAR OLD WHO WAS TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF BY AN OLD MAN WHO SAW HER TRAUMATISED, SAED HER, AND FORCED HER INTO A BARGAIN, KEPT HER LOCKED IN A CITY WITH NO CONNECTION TO THE OUTSIDE WORLD, WITH ONLY HIS FRIENDS FOR MONTHS, AND FEED HER LIES AND PUT HER IN HIGHLY DANGEROUS SITUATIONS TO 'PROVE HERSELF' THEN RECREATING THE SCENE WHERE SHE WAS SAED BY HIM IN FRONT OF THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE. BEFORE 'MAKING UP FOR IT' BY SLAPPING A FAKE TITLE ON HER FOREHEAD AND SAYING 'ALL HAIL MY HIGH LADY'

RHYSAND GROOMED HER, HOW DOES NO ONE SEE THIS????

ACOSF just made me hate Rhys more.

It was so manipulative. As Feyres crying into her eggs he pulls out this plan he had been waiting to share for a long, long time, that he had consulted with Amren on for legalities.

And then has it presented to her by the 2 people she does not currently get along with, Amren and himself.

Lmao Rhys just pisses me off.

[mcuamerica]

Loving Flames | Part Two

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Summary: You leave Under the Mountain, going back to the Night Court... but there's a certain red head that still plagues your mind Requested by anon here.

Warnings: 18+ only, canon level violence, alludes to SA, Rhys is an asshole in this, a bit of angsty fluff and a lot of angst, slight claustrophobia, PTSD, (not proofread), let me know if anything was forgotten...

Word Count: 4k

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

Part One

You were in that room for the next 8 years, only going out when Amarantha commanded you to watch the tortures she knew you’d be tormented by the most. The faeries that had wings. Children. Families. You stood by Eris’s side, forced to watch as you clung to his arm. Your nails dug into his biceps so often when she was the most brutal that he had small scars there.

And his back, now. When he came back to the room from the healer that night, his entire back and chest was bandaged.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He said to you when he found you with tears in your eyes, sitting on the bed.

“I couldn’t let her hurt you anymore. Not when it wasn’t your fault.” You said.

“She could still hurt you. She could command you out and force you to be whipped.” He said.

“I’d rather me than you.” You whispered, your knees tight to your chest.

“I wouldn’t.” He whispered. “I won’t be able to stand back and watch if she hurts you.” He said.

“Then kill her.” You simply stated, your eyes unfocused on the rug beneath the bed. “She can’t hurt you. Can’t have anyone else hurt you. Kill her and the threat ends.” You said.

Eris swore, ensuring the door was shut. He walked over to you, kneeling at your side. You felt him take your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “You can’t say things like that out loud… you have to be careful.” He said. “I won’t let her hurt you… and I promise to get you out of this room one day.”

Eris wasn’t able to keep that promise. Not until Feyre came along. But, with the tensions between the Autumn and the Spring Court, he didn’t help her at all. And you were confined to your room for all of it other than Feyre’s trials.

When Amarantha finally died, thanks to Tamlin, you felt your tattoo dissolve against your skin. You nearly collapsed on the ground at the thought of leaving this gods-forsaken mountain. Of never seeing it again. Of never being trapped in a bedroom again, or any room. Of feeling the wind against your skin.

But that meant leaving Eris. Once Rhys told you when you would leave, you went to the room. Your prison and sanctuary for so long. “Eris.” You whispered.

He turned around from where he stood before the dresser, contemplating if he wanted to burn the clothing. “I thought you’d be gone by now.” He said.

“I can’t leave without saying goodbye.” You said, nervously playing with your fingers. “I’m going to miss you…” you whispered, silver lining your eyes.

Eris looked at you again, immediately before you. He took your cheeks in his hands. “Don’t do that.” He whispered. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying. I don’t want to go to the Night Court if it means I can’t be with you.” You whispered. “You were the best thing about this Mountain. The only thing that kept me sane.” You said, tears falling from your eyes.

Eris, tears welled in his own eyes, shook his head. “You will go to the Night Court. And if the Autumn Court ever needs an emissary, you will always be welcome.” He whispered. “You will live a good, happy life. One you don’t want me in.” He said.

“But I do.” You whispered. “I need you in my life, Er.” You said louder.

“Then come find me once you’re settled. You’ll be welcomed. But if for one moment you resent what you went through down here, if you resent me for what I did, please… spend your time with your family. In your home.” Away from his family. Away from the cruelty you would endure under his father. Especially if he knew you were mates.

You sniffed, wrapping your arms around his neck as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. "Thank you. For everything." You whispered, holding onto him tight. He held onto you like his life depended on it. This may very be the last time Rhys lets him see you. And he would remember the moment for the rest of his life.

You finally pulled away, wiping at the tears in your eyes. "I'll come back for you, Eris Vanserra." You said to him, cupping his cheek.

"And I'll never forget you, Princess." He said.

You let out a watery laugh before letting go over him, taking a few steps back before you turned around and left to the upper levels of the mountain. Where you would go home with Rhys. You knew in your heart, in your soul, that you would see Eris again. And not just for courtly activities, but as friends. And maybe... if you found the strength.. more.

You stayed in the Night Court, in Velaris, for four years. Meeting with Eris only for court purposes. And even then, Azriel, Cassian, or Rhys would be by your side, leading you away from them. No matter how much you tried to convince Rhys, and the others, that Eris never harmed you Under the Mountain, no one believed you. Expect for Mor, surprisingly. She was pretty easy to convince he did nothing to you, never laid a hand on you to harm you.

You were serving as the ever dotting Princess of the Night Court when the events with Feyre and her sisters happened. While each one of them tackled a challenge of her own, and ended up with their mates. Everyone was happy... You had a nephew and a family that adored you. And yet something was still missing.

You secretly wrote to Eris every week, it becoming your favorite time when one of his letter's would appear next on your nightstand. They became increasingly intimate, but never crossed the line of love.

One day, just a few months after Elain and Lucien's wedding/mating ceremony, Rhys said the Court would be meeting with Eris at the House of Wind. And while you were to stay in your old bedroom up there, you were not allowed to see him.

"Rhys, I'm not a child." You said, crossing your arms. "I'm the Princess of the Night Court. I should be there when you plot with our allies."

"Eris is not our ally... we have a tentative agreement with him." Rhys countered.

"That's the definition of an ally." You retorted. "And besides, I know him better than you all."

"You know him from the time he held you captive-"

"The time Amarantha held me captive," You corrected.

Rhys ignored you, continuing on, "You are biased."

You took a deep breath. "I will not be kept from this courts happenings because you believe me to be fragile. And I am certain Feyre will not agree with you locking me up in my room while you talk with the Heir to the Autumn Court." You said.

Rhys narrowed his eyes, but caved and said he would allow you to be present. Only if Azriel stayed by your side the entire night. You agreed, as Azriel was one of your closest friends and hadn't been as protective as the rest of them when it came to Eris. Maybe it's because his shadows detected you were telling the truth. Maybe they were keeping an eye on you all Under the Mountain for all those years. But either way, you didn't argue with having Azriel by your side.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed down the loose pants and tight fitting shirt you had on. Your flats matched the attire perfectly, incorporating Night Court black with Autumn Court red. You even did your makeup and hair a little bit more like the Autumn Court style. You hadn't seen Eris since the war with Hybern two years ago. While you kept contact with him, you were excited to see him.

You walked out to the main sitting area where the meeting would be held. Eris was standing there, in an Autumn green tunic and tight fitting pants. His red hair was tousled slightly, and shorter than the last time you saw it. Lucien was next to him, and the rest of your family was scattered around the room.

As Eris turned to you and gave you that smile you missed so much, a string snapped on your gut. Your eyes widened slightly as you felt the bond become even stronger than before. He must have noticed, because you saw his breath hitch.

“Eris,” you whispered, tears brimming your eyes. “It’s good to see you.” You blinked a few times, taking a deep breath to keep your composure. If you and Eris showed any affection here, Rhys would probably throw Eris off the balcony.

“You too, princess.” He said it just above a whisper.

The rest of the room looked between the two of you, all of the tension in the room because of you.

“Come on,” Azriel said, causing you to flinch at his un expected touch. “Let’s sit down.” He whispered and then walked you over to the couch. You kept your eyes on Eris, heart beating out of your chest. To the rest of them, they probably thought you were terrified to see him. Even if you had been completely fine with seeing him in the past.

Rhys walked in with Feyre, narrowing his eyes as he saw Eris staring at you. And you staring back. But you were sat next to Azriel, Eris on the other side of the room, so he let it go. “Okay, let’s talk about how you’re planning to kill your father.” He said.

“Thank you for your warm welcome into your home.” Eris said, voice dripping with sarcasm as he finally tore his eyes from you and looked to your brother.

“My home.” Nesta corrected. The House of Wind was her and Cassian’s now. Azriel was in the Town Home with Gywn and you stayed with Feyre and Rhys in the River House.

“You truly have a plan to kill your father?” Lucien said. Your father. As he recently learned Helion was his dad and not Beron.

“Yes, it’s been in the works for sometime. And Autumn is in a good position right now for a take over.” He said, leaning back in the single chair he was in.

Cauldron, he looked magnificent. He had bulked up more, his biceps threatening to tear the undershirt he wore. You wouldn’t put it past him to wear a tighter shirt to show off. Or was it to impress you? Either way, you couldn’t help but admire him. The way his hair fell onto his forehead, even though it should’ve been slicked back. How the pants fit his thighs just right. And gods, the way that smirk played on his tips as he talked about his plans. He was happy to kill his father. He was doing it for you, though you didn’t know it.

You barely heard a word of what they said as you watched Eris. Your eyes never left him. To the others, again, it looked as if you were scared. But as Azriel glanced between the two of you, and caught some stolen looks from Eris to you, he knew it wasn’t fear that was keeping you quiet. It was affection. You couldn’t think of what to say, so you sat quietly and listened. Or, Azriel thought you were listening. You were just admiring your mate.

Eris was your mate. And you couldn’t wrap your head around it. He must have known… and not told you because of the tensions between Autumn and a Night. But still, how long had he known? Did he know when you were Under the Mountain? Before? Is that the only reason he was kind to you?

Thoughts raked your brain as you spiraled down into your mind, and Azriel was the first to notice your short breathing. “(Y/N)?” Azriel whispered.

You looked up to him, finally breaking your stare from your mate. “Do you want to leave?” He asked.

You shook your head, leaning back in the love seat as you finally started to listen to what they had to say.

Eris would kill his father within the week. And he was requesting help from the Night Court to help him do it. It would be by poison, at an Autumn ball in three days. That each Night Court member would be at. And everyone would play their part.

So, as you listened to the plan, you couldn’t help but wonder what this would mean for you. Would Eris want you to be his mate if he was High Lord? He certainly didn’t say anything to you… maybe he was just being nice because mates shouldn’t hurt each other. Maybe he doesn’t want anything to do with you.

You blinked as everyone stood up, and Rhys shook Eris’s hand tentatively. He whispered a ‘if you betray us, you die’ that wasn’t even a whisper, everyone heard it. And then Rhys walked out. You glanced to Azriel as everyone else walked out besides Eris.

“Az… can you give us a moment?” You asked quietly. Azriel looked between you and Eris skeptically. You noticed as his ears perked and his eyes widened slightly as his shadows told him something.

He gave a slight nod. “I’ll be right outside.” He said before turning around to leave. Once he was out of the room, you ran over to Eris. You slung your arms around his neck as he pulled you close to his chest, his arms around your waist in an instant.

“I’ve missed you.” You whispered against his neck.

You felt him smile against the top of your head, pressing a soft kiss there. “Me too, princess.” He whispered.

“How long have you known?” You asked as you pulled away. “About the bond?” Your voice was shaking, your eyes hoping for a good explanation.

“Since before your mother died… your first introduction to the Courts with your father. It snapped for me the moment I saw you.” He said and cupped your cheek when you pulled away. “I didn’t want to tell you because I knew we couldn’t be together. Your father would never allow it. Your brother certainly wouldn’t.” He said.

“You didn’t think to tell me Under the Mountain?” You asked. You weren’t hurt about his secrecy, surprisingly. He had been protecting you for years. How could you be mad at him?

“I did… I wanted to so many times. But I didn’t want to force it on you down there. Or make it seem like I was trying to win you over. I just wanted you safe. And if Amarantha knew you were my mate, she might have done something to hurt you…” He said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see it until now.” You said, leaning your forehead against his.

“I don’t want anyone to know. Not until my father is dead and he has no chance of using you against me.” Eris whispered.

“I want to accept it.” You whispered. “As soon as we’re both safe.” You told him, searching his eyes.

Neither of you had been remotely intimate. Hugging and sharing a bed was the extent to how you interacted Under the Mountain and after too. But now, you wanted to do everything with him. Wanted to kiss him, feel his warm lips on yours. You wanted him inside you, his flaming body against yours as you connected in a way no one else could. You wanted him to be your mate, officially. You wanted everything with him. Including children. A kingdom to rule, if he’d have you as his Lady.

Eris’s face at your words softened even more, tears lining his eyes. “Soon, I promise. But we will wait until after my father dies.” He said. “And when I am High Lord, we will accept it in whatever way you want. A large ceremony. A small one. You could give me a tree nut and I would be happy.” He said. “As long as I can be with you.”

“I don’t care. I just want to be your mate.” You told him.

“I’m glad we agree.”

After that week, and after the ball where Eris's father "unexpectedly" died from a heart problem, Beron's powers were passed to Eris. And now, the heir of the Autumn Court was no more, instead, he was the High Lord of Autumn. Your mate.

While you wanted to immediately mate him, Eris wanted to establish his court before announcing his Lady of Autumn. So, you needed to distract yourself. And it happened that Tarquin invited you to the Summer Court to help strategize their rebuilding of the city. In reality, you were going for a vacation to relax. And distract yourself.

So, as you were packing your bag, Rhys knocked on the door.

You turned, giving your brother a small smile.

"You sure you want to leave?" He asked you.

"Yes, I can't wait to lay on the beach and relax for two weeks." You said happily.

"I'm sure it's been hard for you this past week," he said.

“Why?” You asked, zipping up your bag before turning towards him.

“Because… of having to be around Eris.” Rhys said, as if it were obvious. Though, while it was hard being around Eris, he thought it was because of how Eris hurt you. For you, it was hard because you wanted to tell the world about your mate. And you couldn’t.

“It wasn’t, not for the reason you’re implying.” You said. “I like spending time with Eris. And I’ve told you countless times before, he never hurt me.” You said.

“He locked you away in a room.” He said.

“Amarantha locked me away in a room.” You said.

“Because of Eris. Because he was trying to get you outside.”

“Because of her. Not Eris. He was being whipped and I made a decision to not let him suffer.”

“Why?” Rhys demanded. “Why make yourself a prisoner for him? Why not let him bleed? He’s not a good male.”

“He is!” You said. “You see what you want to, Rhys. You can assume all you want to but I spent 50 years with him. He never once touched me without asking. Never once crossed a line. And he didn’t even do it because he was scared of you. He did it because he respects me. And he cares for me.” You said.

“Why would he? When you’re the sister of his enemy? He wouldn’t do anything if it wasn’t for his benefit?” He asked.

You took a deep breath. “He’s not as selfish as he seems, Rhys.” You said, crossing your arms. “Why did you help Feyre when she was the betrothed to your enemy?” You asked.

“That’s different. Feyre is my mate.”

You paused for a moment, trying to choose your words carefully. “But no matter how cruel of a male you seemed to the outside, you were always kind to her… other than making her drink on faerie wine and parading her around at night.” You said. “Eris never did that to me…”

“He still kept you with him all those years. He could’ve given you away, let you stay with me. He could’ve-“

“He was protecting me.” You simply stated.

“Why?”

“Because I’m his mate!” You yelled. You knew you were screwed the moment the words left your mouth. Why did you just say that?

Rhys blinked. The only way he showed his shocked. “No, he isn’t.” He said.

“Yes he is. The bond snapped for me last week.” You said. “Before he was High Lord.”

“He’s tricked you. You can’t be his mate.” He said.

“My walls are stronger than yours, Rhysand. He couldn’t trick me if he wanted to. I am his mate. And he is mine. And he took care of me when no one else did.” You said, holding your head high. “As soon as I get back from Summer, I am going to Autumn and offering him food.” You said.

“And what? Leave your home? For that family? For him?” Rhys growled.

“For my mate. For the male that protected me and helped me and kept me sane for 50 years. For him, the male I love.” You said.

“No,” Rhys said, shaking his head. “He isn’t your mate. He must have tricked you… you won’t be going to Autumn.” He said.

You rose your eyebrows. “And how are you going to stop me?” You asked.

“I won’t let you leave.” He said.

“What are you going to do? Restrict me to the Night Court?” You asked. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“Why?”

“To protect you.”

“That’s not protection, Rhys. That’s imprisonment.” You said, searching his eyes. It occurred to you then that he might not be kidding. Rhys was notoriously protective of you. And he would go to far lengths to keep you from harm in his mind.

“You won’t leave this room, (Y/N), unless you promise you won’t go to Autumn.” He said.

“I won’t promise that. I’m not going to stay away from my mate.” You said. “And you can’t keep me here.”

“I will.” He said, taking a step out of your room.

“And what are you going to do? Block my path all night?” You asked, seething.

“No. There are wards around your room now. If you try to leave, you’ll see what happens.” He said.

Your eyes widened at the thought of being trapped in a room. “What?” You asked, your voice cracking.

“Unless you agree to never accept the bond with Eris, you’ll be in this room. And the wards won’t let anyone else but me in and out.” He said.

Your breathing started to quicken, walking towards the door but stopping right in front of it. “Rhys, do not lock me in this room.” You said, tears brimming your version.

“Do you promise to not go to Autumn? To not mate with Eris?” He asked.

“No.” You said quietly.

“You’re meant to be gone for two weeks. I’ll come back then to see if you’ve changed your mind.” He said.

“Rhys, please.” You begged, stepping forward again. You watched as he walked away, your breath catching in your throat.

“Rhys!” You yelled, taking a step to leave the room but coming in contact with a clear hard wall. “Rhys!” You sobbed, backing on the invisible door. You took a step back, trying to find your breath. “Rhysand!” You yelled again, only for your door to slam shut in front of you.

You fell to the floor, banging on the door. “Rhys!” You begged again, leaning your forehead against the. Your vision blurred, the walls closing in on you. Suddenly, you were back Under the Mountain. Trapped in that room with no wind or no windows. Eris healing from his wounds.

Your sobbed shook your body as you tried to breath. You closed your eyes as you sunk to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest.

"Rhysand!" You let out a scream, so primal and raw that your throat strained.

You continued shaking, sobbing, hyperventilating as you rock yourself back and forth. You tried to convince yourself you were safe. You weren't hurt. But you couldn't leave. Couldn't get out of this room if you tried. You couldn't see your mate.

Your sobs overtook your breaths as you lost focus, shaking at the feeling of desperation. You were trapped in this room. You couldn't get out. Wouldn't get out unless you promised something terrible to your brother. Your brother who you thought loved you. But someone who loved you wouldn't do this. They wouldn't trap you in a room after what happened Under the Mountain. What would Feyre do when she found out about this? Would Rhys keep you here longer than 2 weeks? Would you be trapped here forever.

The walls continued closing in on you as your mind spiraled deeper and deeper. When you had the strength to open your eyes, the room was dark. Your powers couldn't get you out, but they consumed you. The darkness wasn't welcomed though. It only made your breath quicken more. No light. No windows. No Eris.

How would you live like this?

Part Three

A/N: GODS this was a good one to write... can you imagine what Eris is going to do when he finds out what Rhys did????

Join the taglist here (I will not be adding people from the comments)

Tagging (thank you for all your lovely comments, they fuel my writing for the better every day): @96jnie @rcarbo1 @circe143 @bookwormysblog @stuff-i-found-while-crying @acourtofbatboydreams @glitterypirateduck @optimistic-but-very-realistic @minaethrym @herondale-lightworm @saltedcoffeescotch @faridathefairy @alliex-o @mariahoedt @falszywe @d3ad-ins1de @anyzandy @mulledwinetea @myromanempiree @ysmtttty @dumblani @brighterthanlonelythoughts @micaxrocky @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @windblownwinston @the-golden-jhope @alittlelostalittlefound @homeslices @todaystheday @quackquackhun @Kayhud05 @forgiveliv

[emmafreakecreations]

Rhysand is not morally grey- He's just an asshole

Rhys stans will say, "He did all those things UTM to protect Feyre and for the greater good!" and then proceed on a lengthy explanation of his reasons.

No no no no. I understand WHY he did it, I just don't agree with his methods. And there is NEVER a good reason to SA someone.

And yes he did SA Feyre. He drugged her- couldn't get verbal consent from her- and then proceeded to touch her everywhere/ make her dance on his lap, while MAKING her wear revealing clothes. But- but he didn't touch her privates! It doesn't matter he still touched her waist and for most people I know that is in the no no square. It's still touching someone without consent, taking away people's choice about their own body is abuse. And that includes him not telling her about her pregnancy. He didn't want to stress her out! That doesn't matter, she has every right to know about what is going on with her body, knowing her options so she can make an informed decision of what she wants to do. In our world that's literally a violation of HIPAA. And if anything it's more stressful not knowing what is going on with your body. You're bringing real world standards into a fantasy world! SJM already did that by bringing her white 21st century feminism into this world and you guys are often treating Lucien and Nesta based on real world standards so I can do that too.

But Feyre forgave him, so you should too. That's her prerogative but if I was in her shoes I wouldn't. Because his long ass monologue that's TEN PAGES never once said the words "I'm sorry for doing that to you." It's only giving his reasons which to me sound like excuses, because there was definitely another way he could protect her without causing her bodily harm. He could have just left her in her cell and sent her mental images of happy things to keep her sane. He could have just communicated with her through her mind. He needed to keep a rouse up because Amarantha was suspicious! No where in the text does it mention that Amarantha wanted Feyre at those parties. For all she cared Feyre could just go die in her cell from infection and she would win. By Rhys bringing her to those parties he put more of a target on her and raised Amarantha's suspicions. And after rereading the monologue some things in Rhys's plan UTM is inconsistent.

"I decided, then and there, that I was going to fight. And I would fight dirty, and kill and torture and manipulate, but I was going to fight. If there was a shot of freeing us from Amarantha, you were it. I thought … I thought the Cauldron had been sending me these dreams to tell me that you would be the one to save us. Save my people." (pg 448 Ch 54- I have a pdf and idk if that lines up with physical prints)

cool fine. but then he proceeds to say two paragraphs later that he was mad that Tamlin didn't get Feyre out when he had the chance. This does not make sense because if Feyre leaves how tf is she supposed to save everyone. She already has a deal with Amarantha to save people and sure she might die but leaving is not going to save everyone.

"I made you dress like that so Amarantha wouldn’t suspect, and made you drink the wine so you would not remember the nightly horrors in that mountain. And that last night, when I found you two in the hall … I was jealous. I was jealous of him, and pissed off that he’d used that one shot of being unnoticed not to get you out, but to be with you.." (Ch 54 pg 448)

After rereading this I'm convinced this man didn't have much a plan and if anything initially was doing these things out of cruelty and just because he could. His plan makes no sense if you really think about it. Once he got the hots for Feyre, he back tracked. His plan to piss Tamlin off so that he killed Amarantha makes no sense, because Tamlin has already delt with this woman not respecting him saying no, disfigured his best friend, cursed him, and is now trying to kill his lover. I don't think he needs more motivation.

But he is morally grey! no he isn't. Most morally grey characters who have a love interest, at least I have encountered never bodily harm her. They have a line they will not cross- they have morals. Rhysand seems to not have a line-no morals- to me he's more amoral. Carden Greenbriar bullied his love interest and did some heinous shit, but he had a line he wouldn't cross-murder. He does not like murder. When the bullying got to a point where Jude could die, he stepped in and he saved her. Jun-pyo from boys over flowers also bullied his love interest basically because of how he was raised he has no understanding how to show love (similar to Cardan). He got the whole school bullying her just because she stood up to him. But when some students tried to sexually assault her he got pissed at them and told them he never said to do anything like that. He also has a line he won't cross, sexual assault.

to quote my good in real life friend @that-sarcastic-writer , who has endured my rants about this series. Who reads dark romance and who I have summerized this series to:

"You don't have him hurt her and SA her and then later you try to backtrack by having him cry about his love for her without truly apologizing. And that's my biggest issue with most dark romance mmcs. They actively hurt/SA the fmc but then oh she liked it and he loves her deep down. Cause it's one thing to "hurt" the fmc emotionally, like a third act breakup, and that's fine, that's human, people make mistakes and fight, but you can't convince me physically hurting or assaulting the fmc is something that can be forgiven with claims of love."

Anyways Rhysand is red flags everywhere and is not a person you should strive to date. Date more men like Lucien. If you like Rhys and are just like, "I like him, I know he's toxic." You do you but don't try to convince me he is a hero, he is only a villain to me.

[pinklayla123]

Imagine the outrage in e/riel if Lucien did to Elain what Rhysand did to Feyre utm, or imagine if Lucien made a contract with Elain where she HAS to spend two weeks every month with him,

They would call every single person shipping that misogynist and a disgust to human race but well when it's their own self insert then it's fine and dandy.

Rhysand:

Purposefully made Feyre drink every night and attend the "parties" to a) ensure she doesn't go crazy with all that time in her cell by herself in the worst circumstances imaginable b) give her a modicum of protection from everyone else UTM because even at like 0.5% strength he was scary enough that people didn't want to mess with Feyre if they believed Rhysand to be interested in her c) satiate Amarantha's desire to hurt and humiliate Feyre in a way that didn't have lasting damage

Had Feyre's body painted so that every place that was touched would be smudged, so she would be sure the next day that even if she didn't remember much she wasn't violated

Was, admittedly, an asshole UTM, but only because he knew that Feyre would have considered his kindness more suspicious than his cruelty

Made a contract where Feyre had to spend 2 weeks every month with him, but later revealed that he had been willing to ignore it if Feyre was happy with Tamlin (as shown by him not contacting her for the first three months after UTM)

Did everything in his power to protect her, including warning the other faeries away from her, the help during Trial 2, the music in her cell when she was at her breaking point, etc. etc. etc.

Was willing to die trying to save Feyre, and almost did die trying to take down her murderer when he felt her die

Lucien:

"Claimed" Elain in a moment where her autonomy had quite literally been stolen from her (I, personally, am of the opinion that that wasn't him "staking his claim" per se but more of a shocked realization, but he reeeally needed to read that room before making that little announcement)

Didn't really do much to get to Elain after Hybern except tag along with Feyre when she left Spring

Did the bare minimum to get to know her when he got to the NC, treating the bond and Elain almost like an obligation that he had to fulfill instead of something he actually wanted

This includes his surface-level gifts (if he had known Elain at all he wouldn't have given her the enchanted gloves because he would have known she enjoys working with her hands)

Makes Elain's boldness go away

Is currently living with another woman

Rhysand was willing to burn the world for Feyre, but Lucien does not seem to care very much at all about Elain (this is not a criticism of Lucien, just the way things are)

So, in summary, if Lucien seemed to care about Elain half as much as Rhys cared about Feyre UTM, Elriel might not have been a thing that jumped out to so many people as the obvious third pairing (because Azriel, unlike Lucien, was willing to go on a suicide mission to get Elain)

[readychilledwine]

Matching Wounds

Summary - The first High Lord's meeting after the war with Hybern brings some old memories up that Lyria and Rhys would have rather forgotten, leaving their mates to try to patch together wounds they can't see.

Warnings - degrading language, asshole brothers, hinting to PTSD without getting into full signs and symptoms

Prompt - Day 2 - Comfort

A/n - Happy @polyacotarweek! I've been asked about Lyria and Rhysand's dynamic as well as Azriel and Feyre's, and I felt today was a good day to give a preview into it, and into what Olive Branch will focus on, which is the comfort Rhys and Lyria found in each other UTM.

This is a non-sex based swinging dynamic. Rhysand is more of a secondary romantic partner to strictly Lyria, as Azriel is with Feyre, which is vastly different than the relationship we see in Fours Company between Lyria, Az, and Nessian.

💙 Meet Lyria Here 💙

✨️ Poly+ACOTAR Masterlist ✨️

There was a reason Rhysand had promised Lyria she would never attend a High Lord's meeting. She was clinging to him in his bed now as Feyre and Azriel just watched. Heavy sobs had turned into small sniffles as Rhys stared at the wall, eyes lost and hand moving absentmindedly along her exposed spine. 

Feyre had only gotten to see Lyria once under the mountain and now she knew why, “Rhysand's whore,” the term had been spat at her by her own older brother before he did truly spit at her feet. “Rhysand's Whore,” who had been trapped in his room. Wasting her days away in the same style of dresses Feyre wore, sitting on his lap the nights Feyre wasn't. 

It was ironic, really. The four of them, Eris, and Lucien all knew Rhysand never touched Lyria, never laid a finger on her skin until they had agreed to this, yet to the outside world, Rhys had already had her in ways Lyria had never experienced. 

Feyre knew from the bond that Rhysand was lost in his own mind as well. Lost in the regret he felt. Lost in the images of different red hair, paler skin, and dead eyes. 

“Ideas?” She whispered softly to Azriel. 

“Dinner and leaving them be,” his scarred hand still held Feyre's perfect one. “It's all we can offer them. You and I do not know what happened to them fully. We do not know what brought them together. We just know Rhys refused to be away from her and brought her here once you freed everyone.”

“Do you want to fly to the bakery they love and pick up dinner with me?”

Azriel rose a brow before kissing her tattooed hand. “Of course.”

Rhysand felt himself clinging to Lyria. Clinging to the soft fabric of her dress, clinging in her textured hair, clinging to the scent of her skin. He loves Feyre. Loves her so dearly and completely, but the comfort he found in Lyria was unmatched. 

She had been there during his darkest nights, whispering how she saw him, how she knew him beyond that mask he wore. 

And now she was paying the price for being his comfort. “Rhysand's whore,” the name replayed itself in his mind over and over. He had watched it land on Lyria. Watched the light in her eyes flicker, watched her shrink into herself, watched her push Azriel, Nesta, and Cassian away.

But she clinged to him. The same way he did her. She wanted him, but she waited until they were home. Amarantha's whore and Rhysand's whore. What a fucking pair, he thought bitterly. 

Lyria had her head buried in Rhysand's neck, breathing in his scent and feeling it wash over her. She thought nothing of it as he laid them back, running fingers through her hair. “Our mates went out.” 

She nodded, feeling his warmth as his head turned to hers. “They shouldn't miss date night because you and I are sad.” 

Rhys simply hummed, hand going to the hair at the back of her head and tilting her face up toward his. “No, no, they should not.” Rhys continued to massage her scalp as whiskey eyes held his. “You know nothing they said was true, right?”

“It does not make it hurt any less. Even if my brother was just saying it as a mask. It also doesn't make those memories of that place go away.”

Rhys understood all too well, pulling her impossibly closer. “I'm sorry I could not protect you soon.”

A soft kiss hit his jawline. “And I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.” 

“He doesn't need protection. Big bad illyrian baby,” Feyre's voice was sarcastic as she and Azriel came back to the room, bags of food in hand. “We are going to leave you two alone, but we brought you your favorites.”

“Why leave?” Rhys rose a single brow, but refused to look away from Lyria. “We Should all eat together. Be together.”

Azriel looked to Feyre, the two of them communicating silently. “We can feel you two wanting to be alone. We're offering that.”

Lyria sighed. “Sometimes wanting to be alone isn't the best answer. Stay. We can all take comfort in each other and all help each other get our minds off what happened.” Azriel looked to Feyre caving as he walked her over to the couches. “Come on, mister High Lord.” Rhys rolled his eyes as he was pulled over, Lyria sitting beside him as Azriel sat beside Feyre. Silence was between the four of them, relishing in the safety and comfort of each other. 

“So, is no-one going to talk about it?” Lyria's face grew into an all too familiar snake-like grin. “Surely you all saw the absolute monstrosity of an outfit father was wearing.”

Azriel smirked at his mate, “Gossip.”

“Learned it from you,” she turned to Feyre. “And you.” She kissed Rhysand's cheek, “And most definitely from you. Now talk about my family with me to make me feel better.”

“The little things make you happy, don't they, darling?” Rhys turned her jaw. “Such a simply pretty girl.”

Feyre's eyes lit up. “The prettiest girl.”

“My pretty girl,” Azriel reminded them. 

“Our pretty girl.” Rhysand and Feyre both said.

“Our pretty girl who deserves all the affection tonight,” Feyre continued. “Maybe she and I will run away and you two can brood and compare shadows.”

Azriel took his turn choking before laughing. “We don't brood all the time.”

“Yes you do.”

Lyria leaned into Rhysand's shoulder, feeling lighter from the distraction. I love you, he sent into her mind. We all love you. You are safe here.

So are you, she reminded him. You are safe and loved, too. This is a good distraction. They are stunning together.

It is, and they are. She loves Azriel very much. By the way, it's not Beron's worst outfit to date. 

Lyria's eyes grew wide turning to Rhysand as Feyre and Azriel continued to agree playfully. “Show me?”

“Of course, darling.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys

Poly+Acotar Week 2024 Taglist:

@amara-moonlight @toporecall @littlestw01f @prettylittlewrites @anuttellaa @nayaniasworld @123345566

[viktoriaashleyyx]

ACOTAR is red pill content.

Tamlin is written in the way incels view a "Chad." Which is why SJM does take the time to say how beautiful he is and all the stereotypically gentlemanly things and then destroys his character to show, in the end, all Chad's are abusive assholes. "Women only want Chad's that will treat them like shit, [incel self insert] would treat them so much better!"

Rhys and cassian are oddly written as "Nice guys" yeah they've both SAd their women but "he had a reason to" and "don't forget he's ALSO a victim of SA so what he did to you should be forgiven."

SJM Dramaticizes the men's SA (at the hands of Amarantha and Ianthe) but justifies the women's SA at the hands of the male charaters because "they are traumatized too." It's giving "Men are victims of SA too!" as used to divert conversations when a woman is SAd.

This explains why she wrote RhySAnd SAing Feyre in the first place. It's put there to belittle women's experience with SA.

I'm not saying she did all of this on purpose, I don't think she's smart enough. I'm saying this is a heavy self insert and it shows what her true core beliefs are.

SJM is a pick me.

[litnerdwrites]

There are three main instances, that we know of, where Lucien stands up to an authority figure.

The first was when he stood up to Baron. Doing so led to Jesminda being tortured and killed by his own father and brothers in front of him, as he was pinned down, before said brothers turned on him too, and tried to hunt him down. He then had to watch Tamlin kill two of his brothers.

The second was when he stood up to Amarantha while negotiating on Tamlin's behalf and lost an eye.

The third was when he helped Feyre during her trial, and was tortured for it.

Yet the IC act like him not pushing Tamlin harder regarding Feyre's wishes was akin to murdering babies for funsies. Like, dude, the last time he did something like that he lost an eye, and the time before he lost his home, his own people turned on him, and blamed him for the death of the woman he loved. A guilt and pain that he likely carried with him for his entire life.

Was he kind of shitty towards Feyre? Yeah, a little.

Does Feyre have a right to be upset over it? Yes.

However it doesn't give her the right to dangle Elain in front of him, while also holding those actions over his head in order to manipulate him, while insulting his newest home, and his new friends.

To add insult to injury, every time he tried to make it up to Feyre, taking her to that town (where the citizens didn't want her help, like he told her they wouldn't), trying to find her after she was (as far as they knew) kidnapped by a psychopath, helping in the spring court, and leaving the spring court, he's treated like the villain. He tried to defend himself to Rhysand, only for Rhys, Cass, and Az, to make it clear that he isn't welcome, or respected.

If Feyre, or the IC, were never going to treat Lucien with any semblance of kindness or respect, then they should've just broken that relationship and moved on. By this point, Lucien's inaction is overshadowed by the punishment that he is dealt. Like in many cases, the IC's form of 'justice' or 'revenge' is worse than the original offence, thus negating any of that aforementioned justice entierly. It just makes them assholes.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 9

Summary: With the bargain in place, you'll have to learn to hide your powers while navigating a possibility of allies within Amarantha's court.

Content Warnings: Slight NSFW, suggestiveness, canon typical violence, allusions to assault.

Author's Note: As a little treat for the last chapter being so short, this one is loooooonnnngg. A couple familiar faces make an appearance here, as I decided I wanted to start combining the Hybern storyline with the UTM storyline.

Part 8 is here, rest of the series can be found here

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Again.”

Breath rasps out of you, hands doubled over on your knees, sweat dripping off your forehead. The pounding in your skull intensifies with each labored breath, spots dancing across your vision as you shake your head. “I can’t!”

“You can.”

You raise your head enough to shoot the High Lord of the Night Court a glare. Easy for him to say, he’s not the one shifting forms over and over again. Do High Lord’s even have other forms, aside from Spring? You can’t recall anymore, your head hurts too much. Rhys had decided days ago--at least, you think it’s days, time has become irrelevant in this dark dungeon cell Amarantha has left you both in--that the best way for you to gain control of your powers to better hide them, is to learn how to control the shift. Yours is not quite a beast form, you’re not fully transforming into some sort of beast, but you can grow fangs and claws and shift your eyes into something other. There’s something deeper there you haven’t quite touched, the image of it reveals itself in your dreams, sometimes as this shapeless empty void, others with scales, but you’ll have to dig deeper for whatever that thing is. For now, it’s dampening your power and glamoring your bargain mark, and keeping a harness on the fangs and claws. It’s excruciating, letting them out and shoving them back in, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve done it already. And Rhys just sits there in the corner, watching intently, giving instructions and being a general pain in the ass with each of them. 

“Did you think it was going to be easy?” Rhys returns.

You massage your jaw, the throbbing from retracting your fangs making your whole face hurt. “Of course not asshole! I’m just saying a little compassion would be nice.”

Rhys smirks, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you wanted to be babied and treated like a doll.”

You snarl at him like an animal, eyes blazing and your fangs slide into place effortlessly, pricking your bottom lip. 

Rhys stands with a grunt, body still recovering from the beating he’d received and the strain on his powers. “You’re so easy to rile up,” he croons, stalking closer. “You wear every emotion so plainly, it’s almost too easy to get you right into this position. And what happens when someone other than me sees, hm?”

He’s right and you hate it. 

He stills when he’s only a hair breath away. “I know it’s hard,” he says more gently. “But consider the alternative.”

You don’t want to even think about the alternative. This bargain has to work, you have to make it work, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how long it takes. You can’t let her win.

Your eyes go to the marks still gouged into Rhys’s neck from the collar; his healing abilities have started to return slowly, but he still can’t get the chain off, the wounds still rubbed raw from any and every movement. You can’t let her keep doing this to him either.

“Fine,” you huff.

“Good girl.”

The remark gets him a nice flash of your middle finger before you go back through the steps he’d taught you. It is nice to have the banter between you as a distraction to the reality of your situation, to the cold and darkness that have become a constant companion here far beneath the Mountain. The lack of food and sleep from the elements and the sounds of things prowling around outside is hard enough to bear without the looming threat of Amarantha’s return. This easy thing between you takes the edge off.

You last maybe an hour more, before you slump against the wall, exhausted. 

“You’re doing good,” Rhys affirms from his side of the cell. There’s barely enough room for the two of you to stretch your legs, knees brushing as you stretch your weary muscles. 

You want to believe him, but you know the confinement is taking a toll on your body. Perhaps part of Amarantha’s plan is to let you go half mad in the dark of the dungeons for your insubordination. At least you had been let out of your room from time to time. Locked away like this, you’re tired more easily. With powers like yours you should be able to do this for longer, but it feels like you’re trying to move the Mountain one rock at a time.

You rub a hand over your face, smearing the filth on your hands from touching the floor across your face. “Don’t patronize me.”

“You can be doing good and still need a lot of work,” he replies. “I thought you wanted me to be sympathetic?”

“Yeah well it means less if I had to force you to say it,” you retort.

He moves so he can come sit next to you. If he had any plans to say anything, it’s halted as the lock on the door slides out of place and it creaks open.

You instinctively reach for his hand, breath caught in your throat, waiting to hear that ominous click of heels on the stone floor. But it’s merely one of her red skinned guards, pushing a single tray across the floor before slamming the door shut again.

Rhys gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before leaning around you to grab the tray, a single, burnt loaf of bread and a cup of water between the two of you.

“I want to go home,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him.

He rips the bread in half. “Don’t get all mushy on me now.”

You take the half he offers, stomach rumbling, but you can’t bring yourself to eat it. What’s the point? 

“Tell me about it,” he says after a beat. “What’s so special about your little farmhouse in Spring.”

You bring your knees to your chest. “It had a lot of sunlight, for starters.” You miss being able to curl up by the windows with your books and a cup of tea, miss going out into the fields to check the mares and their calves, miss finding an excuse to go into town to listen to the minstrels play in the square. 

“I miss my bed and that old quilt I bought off a seamstress on the side of the road,” you continue, tears welling in your eyes. “And my books.”

“What do you like to read?”

“Anything,” you reply. “Everything. Never really mattered to me. Unless it was about math. I hate math.”

Rhys huffs a laugh. “What did math do to you?”

“It’s evil and stupid and who fucking puts letters in with numbers?”  It’s such a stupid statement you can’t help but laugh as the words come out. “But I’d read nothing but books about numbers for the rest of my life if it meant we got out of here.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to pull some from my library for you,” he teases.

You turn to look at him. “How have you survived this long, Rhys?”

He washes down the rest of his food with a bit of the water in your shared cup, violet eyes looking anywhere in the cell but your face. “One day at a time,” he says like it’s something he’s said every day. “And… and when it gets bad I think about my friends, my family. I make a list of their names and I recite it in my head until I don’t feel so lonely.”

You take his hand again, because what else are you supposed to do? You cannot magically make this all end right here and now. It will take time. Maybe that’s what hurts most, because this is the first time in weeks you’ve felt like you understand how your powers work, how you can use them, and yet there’s nowhere to direct them. It’s all a waiting game, moving pieces into the right places until you can finally put all this to use. And cauldron is the waiting game grating on your last nerve, but it’s only been a few days. Rhys has been here for fifty. Your heart aches for him.

“But I think,” he finally turns to look at you, and his violet eyes are damp. “I think I’ve forgotten what they look like.”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“Some days I want to just lay down and quit,” he whispers. “But I can’t. I won’t. Then she wins and everything I’ve set out to do, to protect, was for nothing. I can’t let it be for nothing.”

You lean your head against his shoulder. “It won’t be for nothing.” You won’t let it either, you just need to rest for a bit, then you can get back to it.

He leans his head against yours. “We’ll get you back to your books and your quilt.”

“We’ll get out,” you whisper. Maybe if you tell yourself it enough it’ll be true.

“We’ll get out,” he echos.

After sitting like that for a few moments, collecting yourself, you choke down the stale and mostly ruined bread and little bit of ice cold water you’ll get for the day. It gives you enough energy to get back on your feet at least. Your head still throbs from the strain, but you brace yourself against the wall and will it to pass.

“Let’s try those glamors again.”

“That’s my girl,” Rhys praises.

You focus your attention on the thing that lives in your chest, hoping his position on the floor keeps him from seeing the blush that creeps its way up your neck under the possessiveness in his tone. The banter between you is one thing, but anything else is dangerous territory, and you can’t risk any more danger in your life than you already have.  

---

Time passes mostly the same after that, with a little more banter as the tension of being locked up builds between the two of you and a little less vulnerability, granted, but the training regime is the same, until your headaches become less frequent and his jabs at you make you feel less and less like a reason to bring out your claws. The shift becomes a little more bearable over time, and glamoring the bargain ink across your chest becomes the next focus. It takes all your attention for what feels like days, but it’s anyone’s guess.

The progress should make you feel more comfortable, and it does in some ways, but makes you jumpier in others. Every noise outside the door has you checking to make sure a glamor is in place, has you running your tongue over your teeth to ensure your fangs are hidden. Its been steadily getting colder in the cell, the only true indicator that time is passing, and if you can manage to sleep around the shaking of your body, your dreams have started to become less of a call of your powers and more of nightmare of clicking heels and bright red hair and rooms with black vials full of terrible potions. Rhys isn’t any better. Sometimes he wakes screaming, a bit of night chilled darkness seeping from his flushed skin. Some nights you find him staring dutifully at the door, unable to sleep at all.

You’re not sure how much more of this either of you can take before one of you starts bashing against the door again. Between the two of you, perhaps the damage he’d already done would be enough to get it open for real, but what would you do from there? It wasn’t like you could escape. Even if you managed to get out of this cell, she’d just throw you in another.

So you do your best to endure a little longer, even if that means coming up with new ways to cope with it. Cuddling with the High Lord of the Night Court hadn’t really been an option you’d considered until one night it had become so unbearably cold that you could see the clouds of your breath in the air and there wasn’t a full set of clothes between the two of you. Trying to conserve body heat, you’d rolled right into his bare chest and he’d greedily buried his freezing nose into the crook of your neck, teeth chattering against your skin. He’d mumbled something about conserving body heat and that had been all that you were willing to talk about it. From that point on, if you were tired, you’d just lay down next to his large body and let him wrap his arms around you for however long your body could manage to rest in these conditions.

It wasn’t that it felt wrong, it was that it felt right. You could see yourself tangled up like this, in a nice bed, with some warm blankets and fluffy pillows, sunlight streaming through a window above your heads, finally free and out of this terrible place. You try not to let your imagination go too far with that thought, but sometimes it’s the only reason you keep getting up and training; even if it isn’t going to happen for real, at least there’s something to imagine waiting for you at the end of this. You just make sure your shields are up when the thought runs away with you, lest he see them as his powers start to return.

“Your nose is cold,” Rhys says by way of greeting. You can only assume it’s morning, assume that your internal clock still works and that you are, in fact, still on some sort of sleep schedule, but it’s anyone’s guess really.

You crack an eye open to see what he’s talking about, grumbling about it being too early. At some point, you’d nestled quite snuggly into his chest, face buried in the crook of his neck, despite the collar.

“So are your hands,” you retort, closing your eyes again.

He drags one up your back, where the tattered remains of your dress bare your newly scarred skin, in retaliation. 

“Bastard,” you snarl but you don’t pull away. Pulling away means waking up; means counting the cracks in the ceiling again, pacing until you feel some warmth in your body again. Pulling away means you have to face another day in this cell and you’re not sure you can do it without bashing your fists into the door Rhys had nearly ruined already.

“You like having my hands on you,” he returns.

“Do I?”

“You were practically begging me to touch you on Calanmai,” he says huskily, warm breath ghosting over your ear. 

Your stomach does a little flip at the memory of his hands on you on Calanmai, at the hunger and want that had been so plain on his face you could almost taste it. Things had been so simple then, you didn’t need to worry about letting your own want show. Not like now. “Oh yes, because a night of magic induced horniness is the indicator for what I want.” 

But you do want it. Cauldron boil you do you want it. Every drag of his calloused palms across your bare skin makes you want to arch further into his touch, let him explore and taste and claim every bit of you. It’s becoming unbearable. Calanmai was nothing compared to this.

“So what do you want then?” Rhys asks as his hands draw shapes in your skin, near the base of your neck. You swear you hear a hint of vulnerability there, like there might actually be more than banter in this question.

“To sleep,” you reply, because you can’t allow anything more to happen. Amarantha already knows you care enough about him to surrender your powers, if she knew it was anything more, she’d kill him just to spite you. 

Rhys hums like he’s thinking about it, but eventually says, “We should train more. Your glamours need more work.” 

“Bite me,” you grumble. Training has become even more exhausting. It’s useful stuff for sure, but holding onto your power for too long, then stuffing it back down is starting to feel suffocating. Your powers beg to be unleashed, free and unrestrained from the boundaries you are drawing out for them. No, you can’t allow yourself to think about what you want to happen with the High Lord, but you can’t bring yourself to get up, so here you remain, in limbo between the two. Maybe if he lets you drift back to sleep you’ll never have to make a decision between the two.

He brushes his lips over the shell of your ear, “Ask nicely.”

Your treacherous heart skips a beat at the huskiness of his tone, heat flaring in the pit of your stomach. “Make me, High Lord.” 

A laugh rumbles in his chest. “Darling,” he purrs, “don’t start games you can’t finish.”

You have two options here: You can leave it be and get up, leave the line you have made between the two of you right where it is and not have to worry about it; or you can hold your ground and risk stepping right over that boundary line. You know you’re teetering on the knife’s edge here.

“Why wouldn’t I finish?” You turn your head enough to look him in the eyes, batting your eyelashes in feign innocence, even though you know damn well what you’re doing. 

He moves so quickly you don't have time to realize it’s happening before he’s rolling you over onto your back, the solid, heavy weight of him pressing you into the floor. All rational thought eddies from your mind as his hips shift against your own. 

“You have a lot of attitude for someone so set on going back to bed,” he says and you can’t help but note how dilated his eyes are, the violet almost wholly consumed by his pupils. 

This somehow feels more intimate than what you had been doing on Calanmai, despite the fact that his hands were firmly planted next to your head instead of roving over your skin. Gods you hope the filth of the cell covers the scent of your budding arousal because this--him--you want, need, more of it.

“I  can be more than one thing at a time,” you reply. It’s taking all your restraint to not reach your hands out and touch the muscles that ripple across his tattooed chest from holding himself up above you. Even after a few days locked away, you can’t stop thinking about how it would taste to run your tongue over those dark swirls of ink.

His eyes narrow as if he can hear your thoughts, and shit, you realize too late that your shields have been down this whole time because you’d thought, since he was still recovering, those daemati powers would be the last to come back. There’s not time to throw your shields up before his lips are crashing into yours.

You’d thought Calanmai was as desperate for something as you’d ever feel, but it’s nothing in comparison to the hunger that consumes you as those full lips settle against your own. There’s no stopping the groan that tears itself from you as he slides a hand under your head, fingers tangling in your matted hair as he slips his tongue behind your teeth.

You see stars, taste citrus and jasmine. He invades all your senses so thoroughly that the very cell feels like it falls away until nothing exists in the world but the two of you. 

Calanmai had been feverish, an itch that needed to be scratched, but this is like finding air after being underwater too long. You can’t help but feel dizzy and greedy for more as you drag a hand up the sharp contours of his back.

He hisses softly into your mouth when your fingers accidentally brush the collar and you pull back, finally coming up for air. “Shit, shit I’m sorry-”

But he chases back after you like a man starved anyway. “It’s ok,” in between more kisses, each hungrier than the last, “it’s ok.” You’ve never heard a male’s voice get so low, the sound of it making your whole body turn molten.

Still, you’re conscious of where you put your hands, and sensing your hesitation, he drags them over to his chest, inviting you to touch, to trace his tattoos just as you were thinking about doing the first time you’d seen them. Gods there isn’t a part of him you don’t want to explore; to map out and learn every scare and curve across his bronze skin.

You would have too, if the lock on the door didn’t suddenly click out of place. The resounding echo is like ice water being dumped on your head.

Rhys slides the hand under your head down your back and around your waist, yanking you up off the floor with him while he stands. You’re still trying to get your bearings when he places one last, gentle kiss on your lips. “Remember what we practiced.”

Your head is spinning, legs shaky. Nothing makes any sense. Why is he stopping?

The door opens and more of Amarantha’s guards step in, but there’s no tray of food this time, just a single, metal collar. The sight of it is like having water dumped on your head, all thoughts of Rhys’s body on yours drifting away as reality crashes back into you. 

“Her Highness requests your presence,” says one of the two.

Only two. If they were here for Rhys there would be, at least, four, after the stunts he’d been pulling. He has to know that too, but he steps forward anyway, shrugging like it doesn’t bother him, like the smell of you isn’t all over him for anyone to scent.

One of the guards gets a hand on his chest and pushes him back into the wall. “Not you.”

Your mouth feels like it’s made of sandpaper; hands trembling at your sides. You can’t do this, you can’t do this, you can’t.

There’s a tug beneath your ribs, where the bargain ink lies, some sort of invisible thread going taught as Rhys says, “Breathe. Just like we practiced,” into your mind.

You want to duck behind him and hide, but you do as you’re told, drawing one breath, then another as the second guard steps forward and clamps the collar around your throat. It’s not the same, strange metal that used to dampen your power before, but why would it be when Amarantha thinks she has all your powers? As much as you hated the feeling of it, you kind of wished they’d used it instead, just as an extra barrier to keep your powers at bay.

What little bit of Rhys’s power has returned fills the cell, night chilled mist making the already dark room even harder to see in, save for a slight tint of stardust in his irises. “She’s done everything she was asked,” he snarls. “That collar isn’t necessary.”

“Her Highness says it is.”

You risk a glance at him, needing to steady yourself, dreading the fact that he’s somehow become so important to you that the thought of being taken out of this cell makes you want to start shredding things apart. How had you so quickly dug this hole for yourself.

“I’ll be right here. You can do this.”

They don’t waste any more time, dragging you out by the chain attached to the collar, like you’re some sort of wild animal. It’s degrading; makes you feel less and less like a person and more like a pet the longer time drags on. The guards are quick on their feet too, not giving you time to adjust to your surroundings or the blaring torchlights that make you squeeze your eyes shut as you pass. Cauldron, how long have you been in that cell?

You have just enough presence of mind to ensure your glamor is in place around your chest, before they’re dragging you through the open throne room doors. Another one of Amarantha’s nightly parties is in full swing, dancers in skimpy clothes spinning across the room; servants with pitchers of fae wine weave through the crowd, stopping at tables to refill the cups of several High Fae and someone you think might be the High Lord of Winter. It must be nice to have curied enough favor with the Queen that he was allowed to wander freely, instead of a cell, or, like the High Lord of Spring, chained to her throne. Tamlin’s golden hair is messy, undone around his face. The Mountain has stolen some of the color from his skin, though you suppose you look equally as pale now too. He wears his own, glittering collar, the golden chain draped over the bare expanse of his chest. Amarantha has inked her sigil over his heart, staking her claim over her mate. The High Lord’s eyes are so glassy from what you can only assume is the combination of mirthroot and fae wine that you doubt he’s even aware of where he is. It might be a small mercy, in the end.

The guards drag you through the crowd, where you earn more than a few snickers and stares. You’ve never been more aware of how much dirt clings to your skin until this moment. Gods you were making out with a High Lord looking like this? Could he taste the dirt on you? 

You’re led right to the dias, where Amarantha wears a glittering, ruby red crown, her hair unbound and falling in soft waves around her pale face. She might have been pretty once, but the cruelty in her dark gaze was enough to sour it if you looked too long. She watches with amusement as her guards drag you over, eyes glinting with barely restrained glee. Her new little pet here to entertain.

They finally quit dragging you once you’re at the foot of the dias and the crowd goes quiet behind you.

“Have you had enough time to think about what you’ve done?” She croons like you’re a misbehaving child in need of a time out.

Your cheeks flush, but you focus your attention on keeping the damper on your power. You can’t let her rile you up so easily, that’s exactly what she wants. “Yes,” you grind out through your teeth.

She taps a pointed nail against her chin, as if thinking. “And yet you do not bow in my presence, or acknowledge me as your queen?”

A tingling feeling in your upper jaw is the indication that your fangs want to come out and play and you force yourself to take a breath, then another. Still, you have to grit your teeth and stare at the floor to give her a little curtsey, as best you can in your ruined dress anyway. “My apologies.”

“Again,” she says with a grin. “Like you mean it, pet.”

There’s a couple snickers from the crowd behind you.

You’re gritting your teeth so hard you’re sure they might just crack on you, but you take your skirts in hand and curtsey a little deeper this time. The only way you get through it is to picture all the ways you’ll make her pay for this when the time is right.

“No, that’s not right,” she frowns. “You should be lower. In fact, you should be on your knees, thanking me for the mercy I have shown you after you so violently attacked me. Most people don’t live to see the next morning after such things.” The eye on her ring swivels in a motion that makes you think it’s nodding in agreement.

You risk a glance around, searching for any sympathy, and support, but there is none to be found in the leering faces of the crowd. 

“Go on,” she orders. “Beg for my forgiveness.”

Mother knows what she’ll do to you, or Rhys if you don’t, and you need to be in one piece to fulfill your bargain. Still, the move is so demeaning, your very nature thrashing against it that it’s an effort not to cry as you lower yourself onto your knees at the foot of her throne.

When you open your mouth to spew whatever bullshit you think will appease her, she cuts you off, “Lower.”

Your whole face is red with shame as you lean forward until your forehead touches the floor. 

“Better,” she croons. “Now beg, pet.”

“Please,” the word sticks in your throat like it’s a rock. “Please forgive my violent outburst. It won’t happen again.”

She clears her throat, waiting for you to say it.

“It won’t happen again, Your Highness.”

“Try again.”

The crowd is laughing in earnest now and the tears are flowing down your cheeks. You hate this, you hate her, you want to rip her fucking throat out and make that dreadful, grating voice vanish from the face of the world. 

“It won’t happen again, My Queen.”

“Much better,” she says, taking another sip of wine. “I told you I’d get her in line.” 

You raise your head off the floor enough to see who she was talking to with that last bit, and your heart lurches into your stomach at the sight of the two figures standing to the side of the dias, staring intently at you. Twins, bearing the same dark hair, swept back out of their faces, their eyes the same slate gray. They both wear armor, finely polished over matching black tunics and pants, a bit of silver lining in the stitches of their well pressed clothes. But it’s the sigil, over the heart on their armor, that marks them as Hybern’s.

The female stalks over to where you’re still kneeling and yanks you up by the hair to have a better look at you. Gloved fingers poke at your lips, trying to get a look at your teeth and you wonder if maybe you really have been turned into some sort of animal. 

“No fangs,” she muses, her voice like gravel, nothing pretty or feminine about it. “No claws either,” her hands move from your face to your nail beds, poking like you would at a cat’s paws to get their claws to come out. 

You bite the inside of your cheek until you taste blood. 

“You’ve tested to make sure you took all of her powers?” The male asks Amarantha and your blood turns to ice in your veins. If she tries to use your powers now then you’re doomed before you even get started. 

“I’d be happy to demonstrate,” Amarantha says flippantly, but there’s an edge under it that makes you think even she is trying not to squirm. “But my formula has never failed me.”

“Yours?” The female sneers. “You’d be wise to remember who taught you how to make those potions, General.”

Hybern made Amarantha, Rhys had said, it only made sense that all these little tricks had been part of her training. 

Amarantha takes another swig of wine and waves the disrespect off like a fly. “I’ll happily throw her into the Pit again if you are both so desperate to waste your own time with a demonstration.”

They stare at each other, having some sort of silent conversation. The female finally releases your hair and the ground rises up to meet you as you nearly fall back onto your face. 

“No,” the male brushes a gloved hand over a speck of dirt clinging to his otherwise spotless armor. “I suppose that would be a waste of our time. We have other things to attend to while we’re here.”

It’s honestly a relief. Going back down into the Pit to fight more monsters without being able to summon any of your powers sounds like a complete nightmare, you’re honestly not sure you’re strong enough not to slip up and make a mistake. 

“But we can still check,” the female purrs and that’s when you feel a mental claw raking across your mind. It is not like Rhys’s, not gentle or even teasing, it’s a slash, like someone is trying to cleave through your shields with a knife, and you instantly reach your hands for your head as if it’ll be any sort of protection at all.

You don’t dare call out to Rhys, or even think about what mental hoops you need to do to hide the bargain mark, the glamor should hold for a bit on its own while you put all your energy into tightening your shields against their onslaught. Rhys had been right about your cousins’ daemati powers, they were nothing like his own.

They keep clawing and poking, taking turns trying to tear your mind to shreds. It’s not gentle either, their presence making you whimper and writhe on the throne room floor, regardless of the embarrassment from the still watching crowd. 

“Well there’s been some training here,” the female says. 

“Be careful, Brannagh,” Amarantha hisses. “If you turn her mind to soup she’ll be of no use to us.”

You lock every door and throw up every barrier you can muster, even as they throw themselves against each one, testing for weaknesses. They’re an excellent tag team, every time you think Brannagh might give up, her brother steps into her place and tries again. You’re seeing spots by the time they release you.

The male’s boots come into view as he stops in front of your face. “If you’re so beaten, why won’t you show us how powerless you are, hm?”

It feels like someone’s taking a hammer to your skull, you pinch your eyes shut against the wave of nausea that makes the room spin. “Maybe I just don’t like you,” you hiss.

He too grabs you by the hair, twisting you so your neck moves at an awkward angle to be able to see exactly how badly the remark had hit him. 

“Dagdan,” his sister warns. “Play nice. Our King wants her alive, remember?”

“They said your mother was this untamed too,” he hisses. “Before they broke her.”

You swallow the rage that rises up in your throat, clamp down on everything threatening to bubble to the surface and overflow, ruining all your plans. You have made it this far, you cannot let their presence get the best of you. There will be time to process all this later, when you’re back in your cell. Strangely, the thought of going back to Rhys soothes you, helps you settle. 

“Are you done messing with my things?” Amarantha asks.

“She’s only yours until Hybern arrives to lay claim to Prythian, as is his right,” Brannagh says loud enough for the whole room to hear her. If there was any partying still happening in the corners of the room, it has ceased now, all eyes on the twins.

Amarantha is standing, wine glass clattering to the floor, splattering Tamlin, who doesn’t even look at it. “That’s enough! You will mind your mouths in my Court!”

Dagdan chuckles at that. “Did your Queen not tell you the truth?” Having found a new victim to play with, he finally releases your hair. 

“I said enough!” Amarantha booms, both fire and ice flying from her fingertips. The Mountain trembles beneath her as the powers she’s stolen skitter uncontrollably from her. One eye blazes like a forest fire, the other has gone black and empty, a bit of Rhys’s stolen power flaring. “In my Throne Room you answer to me, regardless of who you serve.”

With the way she jerks back you think the twins might have reached for her mind to silence her, but you can’t be sure. 

“You answer to Hybern, same as everyone else!” Brannagh challenges. “You were nothing more than an experiment, to test and see if Prythian was once again fertile ground for our empire. Did you really think Hybern would just let you walk in here and steal what is rightfully his?”

The crowd begins to whisper amongst themselves, apparently having not heard the news until now. You risk a glance around looking for the other High Lords, hoping some of them, perhaps the ones who had sides against Hybern in the War would be more inclined to fight. If you could gain allies, perhaps this would be over quicker. 

There are many unrecognizable faces in the crowd, some High Fae, some lower, some concealed by the masks of Tamlin’s former court, some fully clothed in their servants’ garb. It is hard to discern between the glittering chandeliers and flickering torches who belongs to what court, and you have only vaguely glimpsed the High Lords themselves. Out of most of the faces, none even look your way, save for one red headed male, off to the side of a group of fire dancers. Golden eyes lock on yours for the briefest of moments before they dart away. If only you had your own daemati powers, perhaps this would be easier. You’ll have to talk to Rhys later about who your potential allies can be here.

“I was promised my part of the land and I will fucking have it,” Amarantha growls, turning your attention away from the crowd.

“You will take what you are given,” Dagdan returns. “And if you cooperate, maybe you will be allowed to keep this dingy little cave of yours.”

Amarantha bristles and sparks fly off her shoulders. 

“You will do your part for the new empire,” Brannagh continues. “Lend us the Lord of Spring to lead us to the Wall. We’ll consider it proof of your undying allegiance and let your outburst slide.”

Amarantha glances down at where Tamlin remains staring at the wall, hands tightening into fists. “Absolutely not!”

“We can take him by force,” Dagdan says with a shrug.

She grabs the chain around her mate’s neck and yanks, dragging him to his feet. “I want him back by morning.”

Brannagh steps over you to get to him, gloved hands running appreciatively over the High Lord’s bare chest. “Maybe I’ll keep him.”

The wrong thing to say. Amarantha erupts in a wave of fire that has everyone throwing themselves out of the way. You roll backwards, away from it, slipping into the crowd. You think they might start fighting--they’re definitely screaming you can tell that much--when a set of hands settles on your shoulders, in what would look like to onlookers was a stranger helping you up, but those hands don’t lift, they hold you in place. 

“Whatever Rhys is planning with you,” warm breath frames your face as the stranger puts his lips to your ear. “Tell him to move quickly. My father will side with Hybern and surrender up whatever army we have left at the earliest chance. He’ll want to get ahead of this. Summer and Winter do not have the strength to fight. Tell him Hellion is with us.”

Us. You risk a glance at him, at the auburn hair falling into your eyes. Not the High Lord of Autumn, but one of his sons. 

“I’ll tell him,” you say softly, praying no one hears.

The male helps you to your feet. “Be careful. We might only get one chance.” And then he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd as the two females on the dias finally start to calm.

Amarantha is bleeding from a gash across her forehead, but Brannagh is laughing as she lets the blood from her nose drip freely down her face. “Mating bond chafing?”

Dagdan has managed to shield Tamlin, sparing him, of no kindness of his own, he is as inclined to look at the High Lord like he’d be his next meal as his sister.

“Get out,” Amarantha snarls.

Dagdan twirls Tamlin’s chain around his fingers. “We want proof the girl will be loyal when the time comes.”

“If a hair is harmed on my mate’s head,” Amarantha snarls in return. “I’ll pin you to my fucking wall.”

“Scratch our back, we’ll scratch yours. Otherwise, I’ll bring you back his head and I’ll take the girl and her powers back to Hybern, where we train in breaking goddesses.”

A few people in the crowd glance your way. 

Shit, that’s what Rhys had been trying to tell you with that book he’d sent in your first couple of days here. Hybern had found a way to breed death gods. Your name would be on that list he’d made in the margins.

A guard finally comes to collect you as the twins drag Tamlin out of the throne room. Amarantha is apparently not done with her tantrum, as she begins throwing anything in reach, stolen powers swirling around her like a whirlwind. The crowd begins to slip away, fearing her wrath if they stay. For now, you’ve managed to keep your bargain and your powers secret, but your cousin’s words hang over you like a ticking clock. It’s only a matter of time before she realizes she has to test you. 

-------------------------------------------------------

Tag List: @mariahoedt , @lovelydove , @twsssmlmaa , @sleepylunarwolf , @judig92 , @willowpains , @daughterofthemoons-stuff , @annnaaaaaa88 , @myheartfollower , @uniquecolorwizard , @eternallyelvish , @waytoomanyteenagefeels , @lovemesomevesey , @localfangirl09 , @isa1b2h3 , @starswholistenanddreamsanswered , @slytherintaco , @iluvewman-blog, @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 4: Eddie

Word Count: 994

Rating: G

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

CW: Language

Summary: A collection of Eddie's reaction to different parts of the book A Court of Thorns and Roses. Inspired by those wives who filmed their husbands' reactions to the books and provided me with hours of entertainment.

@corrodedcoffinfest

A sigh and the closing of a book has you looking away from your own book and over at your husband on the other end of the couch. Your eyes dip down to Eddie’s lap where your copy of A Court of Thorns and Roses lays shut. A look back up at Eddie’s face, staring towards the carpet while in thought, gives you no further clues as to why he has stopped reading.

“What’s up, Eds?” you ask.

He lets out another sigh and drops his hands to the cover of the paperback that’s balancing on his thighs. 

“What the actual fuck?” he starts off. “Feyre kills a wolf—because apparently, she’s the only one supporting her family! So, it’s some faerie wolf and it’s supposed to be a life for a life kind of thing? But then this fucking creature busts down the door all viciously and then is like, ‘nah I’ll just have you come live with me instead.’ What?”

As hard as you try to contain your amusement, a small giggle slips out. You tilt your head as you look at your husband, confusion creased on his forehead.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, babe.”

“This book has some weird as shit names for creatures,” is how Eddie greets you when you step into the bedroom, just out of the shower with a towel wrapped around you. 

“Says the Dungeon Master,” you tease as you walk towards your dresser. “There are no demogorgons in that book.”

“No,” Eddie counters, “just the Suriel. Nagas. The Spring Court is a goddamn death trap! And that’s even before we met this other guy who I just know is gonna cause chaos in some way later. Rhysand. Dude seems dark and I can’t say I hate it.”

You focus on keeping your jaw clenched tightly as you change into one of Eddie’s old t-shirts. If this was the other way around, Eddie would’ve already slipped up and spoiled something as big as Rhys’s role in the series, but you knew watching this all unfold before you would be well worth it.

“Feyre is getting all the feels for Tamlin, too.” Eddie looks over and gives you a cheesy grin. “Is that how you felt about me when we first met?”

“No,” you say with an over dramatic sigh. “Maybe you should’ve barged into my home and whisked me away to a magical escape room and I would’ve. But you missed your chance.”

You sit down on the couch after dinner and it’s not thirty seconds before your husband has his head in your lap and gazes at you with those doe brown eyes. 

“Hello to you, too,” you say, immediately reaching down to play with his hair. 

“Lucien is a cool dude,” Eddie says. “I like him a lot. I hope he doesn’t die.”

“You’ll just have to keep reading to find out,” you tease. 

Eddie raises his arm in the air and it’s the first time you notice he has the book in his hand.

“Gonna start now,” he says. “I think some shit’s about to go down.”

It’s impossible not to watch Eddie’s face as he finishes up reading the first book. The man has always been one of the most expressive people you know and that includes while reading as well. His facial expressions provide grade A entertainment. 

Finally, Eddie closes the book and drops it on the couch cushion beside him. He releases a long breath, followed by an even longer inhale. 

“So Rhys did have reasons,” he starts, nodding his head as he speaks. “He wasn’t just the asshole we were led to believe he was. I actually think I like him the best. Tamlin’s alright and I do like Lucien a lot. But I felt more of a connection with Rhys.”

You listen to him, a smile on your face. The whole time he’s been reading the book you’ve been anxious to see what he’ll think of the end.

“A lot happens, doesn’t it?” you ask.

“Hits the ground running,” Eddie agrees. “Feyre’s tests were brutal. That worm maze was badass though! And I’m glad Amarantha is dead. God, what a bitch.”

“What part were you reading where your nostrils were flaring?” you ask with a giggle. “You looked pissed.”

Eddie thinks for a moment, then his head lifts and he snaps his fingers.

“That was when, ugh,” Eddie pauses, an irritated groan rumbling from his chest, “when Tamlin doesn’t do a fucking thing to help Feyre! Holy shit. Just sits there on the throne except when he gets to make out with her. Jesus Christ. If that were you, I would’ve been out of that goddamn seat and taking anyone down I had to to keep you safe.”

His impassioned words make your heart flutter.

“My High Lord,” you coo.

Your husband seems to like that, a smirk growing on his face as he noticeably looks you up and down.

“You know,” Eddie drawls. “I do have those pointed Elven ears. They could definitely be fae ears.”

Slowly, you push yourself up out of your chair and saunter over to the couch. Eddie leans back as you climb into his lap, straddling his thighs. 

“Eddie Munson, High Lord of the Hellfire Court,” you say, wrapping your arms around your husband’s neck. 

“Mmm,” Eddie hums, angling his head down to press a few kisses along your throat. “Maybe then you could wear the ears and be my Feyre, let me cover your body in paint.”

“Technically she was still a human at that point so she wouldn’t have the pointed ears,” you say softly into his ear. 

Eddie’s fingers dig into your sides, tickling you until a shriek squeaks from your lips.

“Had to ruin the moment with your nerd knowledge, huh?” Eddie asks with a playful smirk. 

A smug grin lights up your face as you answer him.

“About time you got a taste of your own medicine, Munson.”

[shadowqueenjude]

Did I write an Elucien scene randomly in cursive yesterday? Yes. Now I’m typing it out just for you, babes. Enjoy!🥳

Lucien halted at Elain’s attention, his skin flushing with embarrassment. “Erm, sorry lady. I thought you were asleep.”

For he was dressed in nothing but a towel, his golden skin still wet. And Elain was staring at him shamelessly. Unbidden, she had dreamt of him for months, even as she mourned her lost human life. Even then, her thoughts had always strayed to him. Lucien.

Bound to a faerie, a prince no less. A species she’s grown up hating, fearing. That her husband-to-be had dedicated his life to destroying. Mates. Oh, how she hated the word, how it robbed her of her choice and humanity. Yet that word, that bond, had meant so much to him that he’d risked his life to bring back an army based on her vision. And came back successfully.

Any sensible woman would’ve swooned. The old Elain would’ve swooned.

But armies and pearls couldn’t change the fact that he represented everything she had lost. Even if he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. Even if she wanted so badly to-

Control yourself, Elain, she chastised herself. Her arousal was so clear that he could probably smell it. Mercifully, Lucien did not comment. He merely cleared his throat and muttered, “Apologies. I’ll just…go.”

He began to walk away, not turning away from her. Some unknown force prompted her to get off the bed and take a step towards him.

“Wait.” Lucien paused, that metallic eye whirring. Elain kept her eyes on his as she closed the distance between them. Lucien’s body was tense as a coiled wire, and Elain could’ve sworn he trembled as she lightly brushed the tips of her fingers across his chest.

She let her hands skate across and down his arms, which flexed beneath her touch. Lucien’s eyes were wholly focused on her.

“Turn around,” Elain whispered. Lucien hesitated. “I’m not sure if-“

“Turn. Around,” Elain said more firmly. He obeyed, and Elain had to reign in her gasp.

His back was full of scars. Long scars that crossed over each other and formed a messy, brutal lattice across Lucien’s back. While most were faded and clearly old, there were some that looked more recent. Elain picked a particular long one, tracing it with her hand. Lucien stiffened.

“How did you get this one?” Elain asked quietly. She could hear his heart galloping, heard him swallow before he murmured, “The new ones…I got under the mountain. Feyre was in a maze and a monster was about to kill her. I…warned her. Screamed out the direction the monster was coming from. Nearly died for it, but Tamlin begged for my life, so Amarantha reduced my punishment to twenty lashes. On the condition that he administer them.”

Visceral rage flowed through Elain as she marked each scar with her hands. “And these?” she asked after a long moment. Lucien turned his head to meet her eyes and smirked. “Courtesy of dear old father,” he drawled.

“I’m going to kill your father,” Elain said venemously. Her head was pounding with fury. The mating bond screamed, Kill kill kill-

“Easy. I survived him. I am free. Eris shall kill him, most likely.”

“We’ll see.” Then Elain walked back around to his front and placed her palm on his cheek, her thumb brushing the brutal scar on his face. “And this? How did you get this?”

Lucien squeezed his eyes shut. “I…was sent as an emissary to broker peace between Hybern and Amarantha. She refused, and she was being an asshole…so I told her to go back to the shit-hole she crawled out of.”

Elain gasped. “Lucien!”

“I was angry, okay?” Lucien added defensively. “I don’t get angry easily, but that bitch pissed me off. She clawed my eye out for it.”

Elain dragged her hand from his forehead, over his golden eye, across his cheekbone, down to his chin.

“I know it’s ugly,” Lucien muttered, and it simply would not do for him to engage in self-loathing, for the scar not only made him hotter, but was a mark of his bravery.

So, Elain got on her tip-toes and pressed her mouth to Lucien’s skin.

She traced the scar with her lips while watching him. “Beautiful,” she breathed. Then she went to his back. Placed her hands on his shoulders as she kissed every scar top to bottom.

When she walked back to his front and took his face in her hands, she found tears dripping from his eyes.

Elain kissed those too.

Then she brought her lips centimeters from his and smiled. “The most beautiful man I have ever seen.”

[taylors-fourth-cat-meow]

Answering this ask because my clumsy ass deleted the draft of the ans as well as the ask idek how that happened

HERE'S THE COMMENTARY ON ACOFAS CHAPTER 11: THE ONE WHERE RHYISE VISITS A SUICIDAL TAMLIN AND TELLS HIM TO ROT IN HELL 🥰

A tomb.

This place was a tomb.

How can someone be proud of doing something cruel to someone? If they are the saints they claim to be why do this to Tamlin bro? Istg i will NEVER to this understand how on earth did the editors agree to the plotline of the destruction of Spring Court?

Lucien had not come here to make amends during Solstice, I realized as Tamlin opened the door to the dark library.

Lucien had come here out of pity. Mercy.

Bruh why? why? wud he underestimate their bond like that? he speaks as if they hadnt been each others only family for centuries

Tamlin claiming an ornate cushioned chair on one side of it. The only thing he had that was close to a throne these days.

oh fck u little shit atleast tamlin doesnt OPPRESS his people!!

“If you’ve come to gloat, you can spare yourself the effort.”

Tamlin is so non-combative here and people still have the audacity to say Rhysie is the bigger male????

“Do you see any sentries around to do it?”

Even they had abandoned him. Interesting. “Feyre did her work

thoroughly, didn’t she.”

THATS NOT SOMETHING TO BE FUCKING PROUD OF RHYSIE

ISTG this asshole someone needs to kick him in the balls. HARD.

I smiled. “Oh, no. That was all her. Clever, isn’t she.”

No sir she is a dumb teenage girl who taught to destroy a court DURING WARTIME?

tbh if Spring wouldn't have fallen the war would have never gone down i said what i said.

I didn’t smile as I countered with, “I suppose you think I should be

thanking you, for stepping up to assist in reviving me.”

“I have no illusions that the day you thank me for anything, Rhysand, is the day the burning fires of hell go cold.”

my boi tamlin is so savage like??

SLAY

Tamlin deserved what he’d brought upon himself, this husk of a life.

He deserved every empty room, every snarl of thorns, every meal he had to hunt for himself.

Seriously? Tamlin, sweetheart, for the love of good kick this man and his bat dick pls.

Tamlin had burned them long ago, Feyre had told me. It made no

difference. He’d been there that day.

I really want to emphasize that Tamlin DID NOT take part in their death.

Had given his father and brothers the information on where my sister and mother would be waiting for me to meet them. And done nothing to help them as they were butchered.

BRO????

U expect a boy to go against his evil, physically abusive father? NO, strike that.

U WANT A BOY TO GO AGAINT A HIGH LORD?

No tell me? how was Tamlin supposed to fight a HIGH LORD and his brother??? Three against one??

And even if he tried to help them? we will never know? we get only rhysie's side of the story never tamlin's pov

“You brought every bit of this upon yourself,”

Yes yes lets go tell a suicidal person he brought every bit of his misery on himself

Yeh lets all applaud him

“You won,” he spat, sitting forward. “You got your mate. Is that not

enough?”

"No."

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK???

MANNNNNNNNNNNNNN

I WANT TO SCRATCH MY EYEBALLS RHYSIE'S EYEBALLS OUT AT THIS POINT

"You deserve everything that has befallen you. You deserve this pathetic, empty house, your ravaged lands. I don’t care if you offered that kernel of life to save me, I don’t care if you still love my mate. I don’t care that you saved her from Hybern, or a thousand enemies before that.”

THIS UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BITCH?!?!?!?!?

PLSSSSSSSSS

Why doesnt he care that tamlin has saved BOTH their lives on MULTIPLE occasions???

at this point 50% of the IC owe their life to tamlin

“I hope you live the rest of your miserable life alone here. It’s a far more satisfying end than slaughtering you.”

well he isnt even strong enough to keep his people in line and not a hair's breath away from rebellion, i doubt he'll be able to slaughter the HL who tore apart Amarantha, who fought a hundred of Hybern's monsters and soldiers in their camp ALONE, at the same time helping feyre escape AND was able to "drag" another highlord to war

*Drops mike*

But Tamlin only stared. And after a heartbeat, his eyes lowered to the

desk. “Get out.”

Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you the bigger male

Tamlin didn’t have shields around the house. None to prevent anyone from winnowing in, to guard against enemies appearing in his bedroom and

slitting his throat.

It was almost as if he was waiting for someone to do it.

This breaks my heart so much. No, Tamlimn doesnt deserve this. NO ONE deserves this. Imagine being OKAY with someone being suicidal?!

[youareatragedy]

As much as people criticize the Archeron sisters (which a lot of the time I can agree with especially when it comes to Feyre), I think we have to remember that these are early-to-mid-twenties women. They’re traumatized and might be more easily influenced by 500-year-old powerful fae.

So while I want Feyre to serve at least a century in maximum-security prison for what she did to the Spring Court alone, I also want Rhysand to receive at least 15 death sentences. Every time he almost dies, they could bring him back just to inject him with lethal poison again. And I want the Illyrian and CoN women to handle at least the first 10 executions. You know what I’m saying?

Yes, I would breathe a sigh of happiness and relief if I never had to hear about Feyre again. But my hatred toward Rhys… toward Cassian… and toward how SJM and the fandom keep portraying them (especially Rhys and Cassian) as “babygirl” or hot dudes who are oh-so-considerate about the well-being of women everywhere? Unmatched.

Rhysand should be in prison for 1000 years for whatever he did as Amarantha’s right hand. And yes, that’s already a reduced sentence because apparently “he was just trying to protect his family and he had no choice” is a valid reason to be exonerated. I mean, fuck justice for the people who suffered under Rhys's own hand, am I right? “He was just doing his job.”

Meanwhile, Cassian deserves a century in a mental institution for thinking it was okay to avenge his mother by slaughtering an entire village. There must have been at least a handful of people who didn’t even know who his mother was or were helpless and couldn’t have done anything to save her anyway. Nepotism, am I right? No real consequences for him, of course. Oh, and what kind of psychopathic asshole tells his mate he feels shackled to her, knowing her self-esteem is nonexistent? Disturbing fucker.

Lord of Bloodshed my ass. Lord of the Night Court? No, it's Lord of Velaris of "I Love Parading My Very Very Young Wife Around Almost Naked And Spreading Her Arousal Scent Everywhere."

Fuck the IC, and especially fuck those two. Stay away from the sisters.

[lady-bluebird-luv]

Hello again - Santa here! I just can’t stay away. I hope you are enjoying Feysand week, spooky season, and that beautiful autumn weather surrounds you!

You did such a good job of playing the build a fic game, I think you might be sneaking ever closer to Santa’s nice list! However, now I have several ideas kicking around and I would love to hear a little more from you to lock into the best present possible.

1. What do you love about Feysand? What are some of your favorite moments?

2. Is there a certain stage of their relationship you can’t get enough of? UTM, early ACOMAF, Velaris, post mating bond? Or maybe you’re interested in what’s happening after ACOSF?

3. Do you have any favorite headcanons or things you think we missed out on in canon?

Enjoy the rest of fabulous Feysand week giftee!

Santa, all I want is to be on your nice list 🥹. Happy Feysand week!!! I could write 300+ pages on these questions, but I don't think Tumblr will let me write a post that long. I think (I hope?) these answers will still give you plenty to work with, though.

1) The short version is that I love Feysand's unconditional acceptance and support for each other. I saw something about how the appeal behind enemies-to-lovers is that it means your partner saw you at your worst before they saw you at your best, and they loved you anyways. That's very true for Feyre and Rhys. I know some people, especially post-ACOSF, talk about Feyre being naive about Rhys's asshole-ness or being brainwashed by the mate bond. IMO, she's always seen the darkness, and she simply does not give a fuck. Rhys likewise recognized a similar darkness in her before she saw it in herself. Rhys will be a monster to protect the people he loves, and Feyre loves him for it because she's the same.

They're the ultimate ride-or-dies for each other. In ACOTAR, Rhys was ready to damn the world to protect Feyre. When he tried to scare her into leaving Prythian, he wasn't just condemning himself to Amarantha, but potentially damning everyone else to an eternity UTM, too. No cursebreaker, no freedom, right? Similarly, when Rhys dies in ACOWAR, Feyre is ready to daemati the other courts into bringing him back - a diplomatic nightmare in the long run, but she doesn't care. There's something undeniably selfish about their devotion to each other, but for me... it just scratches an itch that no other ship does.

I also adore the mentor/mentee dynamic in their relationship. Maybe it's the daddy kink in me, IDK. Growing up, Feyre hasn't really had someone who will not only be on her side, but also provide for her - she got parentified at 11. Both with Tam and Rhys, we see that she wants a partner who will provide for her if she needs it - the reason Feylin doesn't work and Feysand does is because Tamlin imposes that provision, and Rhys doesn't. Feyre wants room to do her own thing, but she wants to know that, when she needs it, she has someone who she can lean on. I'm obsessed with Rhys both wanting to be that person and with him wanting her to (literally) grow her own wings. He never holds things she doesn't know against her, and I think their personalities are endearing together in part because of their age/experience difference.

One of the songs that reminds me the most of them is Hozier's NFWMB, if that helps. I actually have a whole Feysand playlist here (the order is kinda important but only a little).

2) As far as favorite stages go (and favorite moments, to carry that over from your first question), I'm obsessed with ACOMAF and early ACOWAR. I've talked a little here about how I think Feyre is angry at Rhys in ACOMAF partially because she doesn't know what to do with her attraction to him, and here about how ACOMAF is about Feyre accepting and loving herself, not just accepting and loving Rhys. Both of these threads are a big part of why I love Feysand. IRL, People are messy, flawed, complicated, and almost always still loveable. I think ACOMAF Feysand embodies that perfectly.

I love the moment at the beginning of ACOMAF when Feyre overhears Ianthe suggesting they assassinate Rhys and she's horrified, because it shows how in denial she is. I love the confrontation with Lucien in the mountains because Feyre realizes she's willing to do something that she would have once considered unthinkable (hurt Lucien) to protect Rhys, and she's not upset by it. I love when they pretend the mating bond broke, because their ability to play off of each other shows how they really are birds of a feather.

That's also why I adore Feyre at the beginning of ACOWAR - she's being so wicked, but it's all her. Rhys isn't giving her input on her strategy. Her deception in the Spring Court also shows how much she's learned from Rhys.

3) I really wish we saw more of Feyre being a politician. E.g. Feyre holding court alone in the Hewn City, putting Keir in his place like in the beginning of this fic I'm currently slobbering over from @rosanna-writer. In general, I'm obsessed CoN/dark!Feysand, and I wish SJM leaned into their dark sides more.

I also think we got robbed of a Helion/Rhys/Feyre threesome in canon. (I'm generally intrigued by Rhys and Helion's definitely-not-totally-platonic history, but this post is already pretty long, so that's for another time). Sometimes, I also wish that we saw Feyre and Tamlin sitting down to talk about everything that happened. I'm kinda of two minds about that, though - I don't think Feyre is the one who needs that conversation in order to find closure, and I don't want her to talk to Tam just because he needs her to.

I don't know if we'll ever see adult Nyx in canon, but I would love to eventually see teen/young adult Nyx, especially during his HL training. I want to know how he reconciles the tender, loving parents he has behind closed doors with their sometimes-brutal public personas. I want to know what he thinks of the mythos surrounding his family and how he navigates intercourt relations (especially relations with the Spring Court?) as he takes on more and more responsibility. I want to know what he thinks of Eris: they're both princes, but where Nyx would do anything to protect his parents, Eris is willing to take a blade to his father.

UMMMM I'm trying to think if there's anything else. I think there is, but that's all that comes to mind right now.

Santa, I'm so sorry for the late response! I hope you're as excited to catch up on all the Feysand week fics as I am :).

[flowerflamestars]

Today on I Reread Effloresce And Had What If Pov Thoughts: RHYSAND. Like what is going on in this dude's head? Seriously. In the little snipit we get of his pov it sounds like Hyburn is his biggest concern but that derails into a desperate need to one-up the Archerons SO damn fast. His oh so ~well~ thought out plan gets blown to smithereens instantly and his control freak self is PANICKING while also trying to maintain his whole calm cool casual facade. Will he ever admit how badly he misjudged the whole situation in the human lands? No. Does he even care? Probably also no. All that really matters by this point is that Feyre's sisters keep upsetting her and THAT can't stand.

Added to all this other plan breaking bullshit, Cassian starts following around after the angry loud one like a lovesick puppy and he's not 100% sure what's going on with Az but Something is.

And of course Lucien FUCKING Vanserra.

I'm willing to bet that Rhys's suggestion of going to get shithead papa Archeron is based on just how much Nesta and Elain seem to hate him.(And then Az shuts that down with "I will fucking KILL HIM")

Then the wardrobe of dead birds happens and he thinks for like half a second that he should feel bad about that but then Nesta is shouting at Feyre and he can't have THAT. (Then the sweet polite sister grabs the knife from Cass's boot. Oh yeah, she did STAB Az didn't she)

He looks forward to seeing Nesta put in her place by a bunch of misogynistic Illirian assholes but instead the entire legion is ride-or-die for team Archeron practically from the moment their feet hit the ground. How the HELL did they mange THAT? (it's called respect and basic decency. Try it sometime)

(and then Mor gets there just in time for Az to start noticeably losing his shit.)

(I also noticed that there was a line where Rhys bit back a snarl because even after all this time it would make Feyre uncomfortable. Meanwhile Lucien just has no qualms about being absolutely undeniably Faery in from of Nesta and Elain and they give exactly zero shits about it.)

Oh man, Rhys. Rhysie Rhysie Rhys slowly but surely showing more and more psycho.

So, the thing is, Hybern IS the top priority. However- and I think this is just like, so pivotal to Rhysands character as a whole- it has to be fighting Hybern his way. He has a year to tell the other lords shit, and he doesn't. He steals, he lies, he puts civilians in danger.

And why? Well, because that's the story he's telling.

Textually, observably we have Rhys, arrogant misogynistic selfish fuck face that he is, and then we have Rhys, the battered but unbroken noble underdog fighting against odds for the Good of All tragic hero man- this is the story he tells himself. It's the one he makes sure Feyre believes. It falls apart against all his actions, but that doesn't matter to him.

The humans don't want to talk to him? Of course he's going to find a back way in. Feyre's human sisters might die? Well, one less thing to take her away. Humans might die? Sure, Rhys feels bad, but not enough not to weigh the cost favorably.

Then he actually gets there.

And they're so... Unbiddable. Hostile. They've upset Feyre, they've written blood magic all across their land, and Rhys might appreciate cleverness but this is just more than he wants to deal with.

And Lucien. Sidebar: what I think is hilariously never talked about is. Well. Lucien actually is all the things Rhysand romantically imagines himself to be. He is ACTUALLY the lost heir, the disinherited son, the noble prince. He actually did stand against Amarantha for his friends. He's drinking respect women juice by the gallon while actually being charming and powerful. I cannot imagine this doesn't lie cardinal to the reason why Rhys is so disdainful towards him.

Lucien is easy to write off by himself. (Because Rhys fucking hates him). Nesta Archeron sets everybody's teeth on edge. Elain keeps smiling. They're all the worst and every one of them is important to Feyre and thus, a threat to Rhys. Anything that could hurt her is, he won't allow her to be hurt.

Cassian is acting like an idiot but Cassian is an idiot about women. Azriel is all Azriel but what else is new? Rhys will deal with it.

(Rhys will not deal with it. Rhys does not believe for a second how serious this all is. Rhys is, frankly, already bored. Maybe he'll find Feyre's father. It'll make her happy, and someone else can wrangle the others.)

They're merchants- of course they're merchants, grasping little mortals- they have a contract? Well, if they want to play with magic so badly, Rhys will help them.

(Rhys does not understand what Azriel finds so compelling, much less Cassian. Illyrians do not brook with disloyalty- even the mention is enough for shame. They won't betray him. They won't, but it's still enough to annoy)

Cassian's bleeding heart has always been a problem. Azriels moods. Honor. What honor did they ever learn, starving in the freezing mud, Rhys thinks. These humans want to wade into waters that will only drown them- Feyre will be so much safer, no ties left to mortality- of course Illyrians, backwards, difficult Illyrians, side with these misbegotten nightmare women. Let them be crushed by it, let one rebellious legion die, Rhys doesn't care either way.

He's pissed, but he's also letting things play out hoping it just implodes an entire situation he doesn't want to deal with.

He's also not actually totally in the loop. Cassian's POV makes Azriel really distinct because they are so, so close, but Rhys, for a lot of reasons, doesn't have the same understanding. He knows Azriel went off the rails when his mother and sister died, but so did, you know, half the mountains. He refuses to even entertain how personal it was beyond maternal feelings.

Things get worse and Rhys gets worse because this is not how it was supposed to go. What the hell is it about these Archerons?

[pinklayla123]

It truly saddens me to see people JUSTIFY Rhysand drugging and Sa'ing her, as a Nurse I see so many young women being drugged and assaulted come in everyday and every day I see people saying, well they just touched you nothing else, he just made you take off your clothes, you went to the party on your own, He was trying to protect you, he had to do it for your own good,

My god If something like that happened to your daughter would you ignore it? would you side with a person who did stuff like Rhys?

These people are really vile, god I never knew coming here wouldn't be safe space but people would attack people like that.

Idk why I got this ask since I feel like I've made my interpretation of what happened UTM clear, but no problem, we can address it again.

I feel like when people "justify" Rhys's actions UTM they aren't saying "He was well within his rights to do everything he did UTM" it's more "Yes he did things that aren't really good but they came from a place of saving Feyre from a much much worse fate, and if you hear Feyre's perspective of the events, especially later on in ACOMAF, you can see that she agrees with Rhys that he did what had to be done to keep everyone as safe as possible, and that the things Rhys did UTM did not in any way, shape, or form leave a lasting negative impression on her", which I feel is a little bit obvious if you bother to actually read the books, but I digress.

Also, Rhys wasn't doing all this for his personal enjoyment. He says later on that finding Feyre in Tamlin's manor and later having her UTM had him quite feeling extremely frayed because he wanted to get her away to keep her safe. It's not like he wanted a lap dance so he drugged a defenseless girl to exploit her. I would argue it was the opposite.

Like yes, obviously, drugging someone so they have no memories and have them dance all night is a horrible thing to do, but if the choice is between that and them getting tortured within an inch of their life by someone who has a track record of being extremely cruel and the power to do what they want and genuinely hate the person at risk, you might unfortunately have to go with the lesser evil.

For example, imagine that I am walking on a sidewalk and I randomly push the person in front of me into the road. Obviously that's not a good thing to do. But what if I pushed them on the road because there had been a handyman on the side of the building and he dropped his hammer right where the person was about to pass. Me pushing that person onto the road is still bad, but given that the alternative was a hammer falling on their head and potentially killing them, the situation is a bit more understandable.

Also, it is important to remember that Rhys has spent 50 years wearing the mask of a cruel asshole who give zero fucks about anyone and is in a position where he doesn't really have room to do anything since the safety of the entire NC depends on him being able to keep Amarantha believing he is exactly who he is pretending to be.

So yes, his actions can be seen as morally ambiguous, but really, what else was he supposed to do? Stand beside Amarantha and give her pointers on where to cut Feyre?

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Alright, today Ive read chapters 9-12 and honestly, at a certain point reading this book while knowing all the spoilers stops being frustrating and starts just being funny. Like, Ianthe brings up the fact that people are gonna want to kidnap Feyre for "breeding" to which Tamlin says that no one is gonna dare do that to Prythian's Saviour because then theyll be on the shitlist of the other six courts, but Ianthe says that Rhysand could and would do it because hes The Most Powerful(tm) and hes really manipulative and yeah. shes right. Obviously I know this is gonna be treated as unreasonable and as foreshadowing of Ianthe being evil all along, but shes totally right

Anyway, Rhysand continues to be unbearably annoying but not in any particularly interesting way, so I dont really have anything to say about him. I hate how hes so powerful that six courts all working together would be no match for the night court and he comes across as sooooo insincere. Like, I often talk about not being the biggest Feylin fan because its pretty boring to me, but atleast it was like, sweet because of how genuine and endearingly awkward Tamlin was

Speaking of Tamlin, guess who just keeps getting worse and worse? I had some hope for him when he reduced the guards and gave Feyre more freedom, but then he doubled them again and he did that thing with the barrier around the manor so yeah. Now, if I wanted to be a pedantic asshole I could point out that he listened to Feyre (who managed to very clearly tell him what she needs at the moment, freedom, which was great) and they were doing fine until Rhysand came back, but as much as I would like to blame Rhysand for everything, Tamlin's actions are still his own. And honestly, I find Tamlin keeping any guards around Feyre after what she told him very unreasonable

I think keeping Feyre safe has become a coping mechanism for him because he couldnt protect her from Amarantha back then so now hes trying his best to protect her from Rhysand (and others, but mostly him rn) who was essentially Feyre's very own Amarantha, and obviously its not his fault that thats a coping mechanism he developed, but it is actively making Feyre upset and making it more difficult for her to heal as well, and hes the older one in this situation, hes the guy whos dealt with intense trauma before, he should be listening to her and giving her space

The only thing where I'll kinda take Tamlin's side is him locking her in the manor when he was going to the western border and Feyre wanted to follow them, but even then the force field was way too much. But also, to me it very much seemed like he and Lucien were in a hurry to leave and it was a very hasty spur-of-the-moment decision, but also it felt like the narrative was trying to demonise him more by impling that it was more of a calculated decision. Like, idk thats the vibe that Lucien explaining to Feyre that everyone but her could pass through the shield gave me, but that might just be a personal thing. I mean, Tamlin is clearly being demonised here either way, him being so unreasonable is something that I find very OOC even with the recent trauma hes experienced. But, theres a lot of buts in this paragraph i know, I do also want to acknowledge that Feyre would likely not have wanted to go with Tamlin to this conflict-zone if he had listened to her wayyyyyy earlier and not doubled the guards again. I recognize this kind of behaviour because I also felt like I had no agency over my situation in the past and Im also a very stubborn person, and it lead to me also doing more and more reckless things in an attempt to make the people around me actually listen, and make them understand how serious I was about getting out of the situation that was upsetting me

(In case youre worried, Im completely fine now and Im leaving out a lot of detail for the sake of my privacy and so I can draw a cleaner parallel)

Speaking of Feyre's agency, chapter 12 ended with her having a panic attack because she was trapped and then Mor and Rhysand showed up and Alis just gave them to her??? First of all, insane behaviour, second of all, I hate that Rhysand is meant to be the choice guy or whatever but wont wait for her to come of her own volition. I think it wouldve been better if she had that panic attack and it ran its course and then she either called for Rhys or Mor or managed to winnow to the night court herself and thats how she got there. Also, and this is part of the same issue, I hate that Rhys is the one who originally forced her to read. I think at some point Feyre shouldve realised that all the people in the spring court are withholding information from her but!, she realises that they write shit down sometimes and exchange messages and whatnot so knowing how to read could really help her here and maybe she even thinks about Rhysand taunting her about teaching her UTM, so next time shes at the Night Court she demands that she be taught how to read herself

Because honestly, right now it seems like she has the same amount of agency no matter what court shes in, which is basically none

I was gonna end it on that snappy one-liner, but then I remembered all the stuff with Feyre losing weight and how Rhys remarks upon it and how Feyre notices herself getting thinner as well and I dont have that much to say about it, I just wanted to say that it just made me incredibly uncomfortable

But yeah, now Im done for realsies