#Li talks Nuala

[nualaofthefaerie]

Hi! This might be a bit of a broad question but here it goes: What is it about Nuala that you love so much in particular? Is it a general appreciation of fairies or something that narratively you are drawn to re Nuala in Sandman?

Just asking because I’m always so in awe in how much love and care you have for the character and it’s overall such a nice vibe you bring to the fandom 🖤

What a truly wonderful question! Thank you so much!

I will do my best to answer, please bear with me.

First off, I have indeed always had fascinations with fairies. Ever since I was a child, my favourite characters were Tinkerbell and her gang, which at the time looked a tad different, but Tinkerbell was the very first character I fell in love with.

Both the old Pixie Hollow and later the new Pixie Hollow fairies were my chosen Disney poison.

(If anyone ever asks me, I will go into heavy detail).

Another big inspiration to my character love roster (please, bear with me, this is all relevant, I promise), was the original run of the WINX club.

And specifically from both, my favourites were Tinkerbell and Flora, respectively. Now, I am not saying, there is a pattern, but it is quite...on the nose.

The influence is undeniable, side by side.

Another favourite visual inspiration of mine is the Kpop girl group, Red Velvet. Nuala encapsulates a lot of their aesthetic, so that certainly was there as well. Especially, Wendy, is a very seemless Nuala stand-in to me. Because Nuala sings and there is no voice in the entire industry such as Wendy's. So yes.

However, it is certainly not enough. There a lot of beautiful women in the Sandman - Calliope, Titania, they are close to that concept, however why Nuala?

To me the answer is simple - Nuala is one of the very few modern female characters that encapsulates girlhood. She is not a girlboss, neither does she have it all figured out. Cluracan and by extension, Titania in combination with Morpheus, throw her in for a ride where she is forced to explore all that she is, reevaluate it and come on top of what makes her, her. I think this is such a human thing, where our environmental circumstances put us in situations where we are at a loss, so then we have to actually either adapt or lay down and die.

And that very thing, is what makes her the most unique Sandman character to me, alongside Morpheus. Nuala is diametrically opposed to Morpheus. Being put in imprisonment (Nuala was very much imprisoned in the Dreaming, I could write a whole post about that) Morpheus and Nuala react to their world differently. Of course, Morpheus was far more limited and yet, he could always reach out to those who would've helped him. He didn't. However, Nuala in complete opposition makes the best of her circumstances - she makes connections within the Dreaming, creates a "life" that wouldn't fill her with absolute dread, despite the crippling wish to be free. Morpheus believes he shouldn't bother anyone and hence always carries the world on his shoulders, while Nuala infamously says:

And I think THIS one, THIS panel right here, it made me fall in love with her helplessly. She opposes Morpheus by simply breathing, by simply believing no one has to be alone in this world. She is hope. She is kindness. She remains kind throughout everything that happens to her. And even though she cries for Morpheus, she also realises this os her right and it is her journey. And I think if people took her a bit more seriously, they will see what I see. That kindness is not weakness and kindness can be beauty.

But all and all:

"People need people."

Author Note:

I hope this answer made a smudge of sense.

My inbox is always open!

Love,

Li 🪷

[nualaofthefaerie]

I took my time before reblogging this piece because it's far too important to me and I needed to take some time to truly decide how to word all my feelings about it.

1) I want to sincerely again from my heart thank lemon for the honor of having me as an inspiration. I will forever hold this very close to my heart. 🩷

2) I cried when I saw it the first time 🫧🎀 (I cried now, too)

3) I am very happy to see that people appreciate the murals in the back. I very strongly believe Pride and Prejudice is very Sandflowerish 🥺

4) Them sitting by the stairs is still very important to me because Nuala always made it so she would clean the throne room to be closer to him. I like to think he thanked her by engaging her in stories of love and freedom, both of which they wanted, neither of which they got 🪷

" I may read it to you, if you're amenable."

been working on this piece for @nualaofthefaerie and keeping it a surprise for so long!! i'm happy to announce it finally finished!! 🪷💖

some close ups:

[writing-for-life]

To Be Human Means to Die (Even for Morpheus)

I know one of the biggest points of contention in the Sandman fandom (especially between show-only and graphic novel fans) is the end:

On the regular, we all hear the wish that the ending should have been more hopeful, that Morpheus dying is soul-crushing and devastating and sends the wrong message. And while I agree that it is incredibly sad upon first read (I actually cried my eyes out many moons ago when I first read World’s End, because that’s when I knew, without a doubt, what was going to happen), I would like to expand a bit on why I think we are actually getting the most hopeful message of them all…

It’s a Tragedy: Yes, but That’s Also Simplifying It

Let me briefly talk about tragedies first, because many people, myself included, often bring up the purpose of a tragedy first when we are talking about why realistically, there can be no other ending to The Sandman than the one we already have. That purpose is that we, as the audience/reader, are supposed to do better, and that we are supposed to learn from our hero’s fatal flaw(s).

And while all of this is true, it is also too simple.

Yes, Morpheus has fatal flaws, his inherent rigidity being the most prominent of them (on that rigidity, everything else hinges: his occasional cruelty, his sense of responsibility even if it destroys him, his inability to hold down relationships because he won’t communicate and compromise…).

But it would be too easy to say: “This is what we are supposed to learn from it, let’s not do that and instead be capable of change. Lesson learned, the end”.

For me, the most important personal truth of The Sandman goes far beyond that, and it is connected to the through-line:

Gods Can Die and Humans Can Be Immortal

When we first meet Morpheus, he is Endless in the truest sense of the word—although captured, it is very clear that he is not mortal, not human, and one step further: That he also doesn’t always understand what it means to be human. We get to know him as aloof, arrogant, proud, often devoid of empathy, and even cruel. And we all know that this changes throughout his arc. That the being who always asserted he is incapable of change finally has to admit, to himself and others, that he has changed, most poignantly in The Kindly Ones (e.g. when he tells Nuala that he lied to Ishtar when he denied he had changed).

And that change was initially a slow one--perhaps that is why he denied it for so long. But by the time we arrive at the end of Brief Lives, his change and, yes, his humanity, are already so clear to the reader that most of us probably went: “You really are slow on the uptake sometimes.”

Even Frank McConnell writes in his intro to The Kindly Ones: “And with [killing Orpheus], Dream has entered time, choice, guilt and regret—has entered the sphere of the human.” And Nuala is right when she asks him: “You want them to punish you, don’t you? You want them to punish you for Orpheus’ death.” Guilt, regret, and a choice. And his reply is silence, and it’s deafening.

On Becoming Human

By the end of The Kindly Ones, Morpheus basically is human in the metaphorical sense: He feels like a human, and even his body (or at least his relationship to his body) has changed. The most important indication for the latter is when we put in contrast that the Corinthian stabbing him in Collectors doesn’t draw a single drop of blood, but the scorpion whip of the Fates in The Kindly Ones does, and that scar remains. We can of course argue about who can hurt him and who can’t, but in either case, we see a Morpheus now who is more flesh and blood than he has ever been, and he feels a sense of mortality not only mentally/emotionally, but also physically.

(I have to throw in here that the change they made in the show at this point greatly confused me, and I think it is significant, as are a lot of other changes that have been made. And I personally hope they only use them to hint at a more human side to him from the outset to make us relate more, but not as a change to the whole arc. I will admit that I would have preferred if he didn’t bleed at this point because to me, it would have had more impact when we finally do see him bleed at the end. And we got foreshadowing for the scar in the show, when the earthquakes crack one of the windows and he looks through it for the second time. Yeah, I’m really that obsessive when I rewatch it, it’s embarrassing).

To Be Human Means to Die

And before we all collectively go into our evolutionarily ingrained wish to pretend that’s not true (because most of us fear death):

It is our mortality that gives our lives meaning. Without an end, life has no meaning bar feeling empty responsibility (or endless hedonism that gets boring at some point). And after 10 billion years, maybe the burden of that responsibility simply becomes too heavy (“But even the freedom of the Dreaming can be a cage, of a kind, my sister,” he says to Death in #69. And that he is “very tired”). It can’t make up for what truly makes our lives worth living:

The Impermanence of it.

Destruction got it right when he said that the illusion of permanence basically depends on our vantage point. That we can pretend if we so wish, and that there is comfort to be found in that, but that things simply don’t last. And that the Endless are truly no exception to that rule (“…even our existences are brief and bounded. None of us will last longer than this version of the universe.”)

And yet, we look at Morpheus choosing death and think: ”But that’s it then, he can't go back on that, but he deserved happiness because he has changed, he deserved (insert preference/head-canon of choice) and will never get a chance to have it now.”

And I get it. Psychologically speaking, we often fight the idea of death tooth and nail. We fear our own, and we have to deal with the loss of loved ones. So the denial is real—it’s not one of the stages of grief for nothing. But staying in that stage of denial is stagnation—the very antithesis of change. Death and change are linked—in the Sandman, they are not truly presented as alternatives, even if we might think so. They are two sides to the same coin. Death says to her mortal form in The High Cost of Living that the fact that life ends is what gives it meaning. That’s why it always ends. And that message has already been given to us in The Wake: “(Death) gives you peace. She gives you meaning. And she bids her brother goodbye.”

It’s Not Just About Dying, It’s Also About Coping With Grief

It tells us something about our own mortality, but also about mourning our loved ones. That’s why The Sandman doesn’t end with Morpheus’ death/The Kindly Ones, but we get a whole story arc after he is gone/The Wake. Because mortality isn’t just about us. It is also about the ones we love, the ones we need to let go while keeping on living, but we also hold on to them in certain ways (“humans can be immortal” because we make them so). All the mourners are us, and in the case of grieving Morpheus, many of us are probably a bit like Matthew:

In the throes of grief, we don’t care that there might be someone else who might even be more kind and loving (poor Daniel)—we don’t want a “replacement”, we want back what we have lost. And we are not ready to move on, until we somehow are/do. And that path is painful and long, as everyone who ever lost a loved one will be able to attest to. The pain never truly goes away, but it changes, from something so raw and painful that it knocks the air out of your lungs, to something that shows up here and there unexpectedly, still painful, but a little less so. Until it only hurts around the edges of memories that make us smile, miss and love someone, all at once. That love is permanent, even if life is not. It doesn’t really die with us either, because we can pass it on.

And it is somewhat fitting that the idea of “to be human means to die”, and that death is what gives life meaning, also extends to storytelling:

Without an end, a story has no true meaning. Our lives are stories, and every story has a beginning, a middle and an end. Morpheus’ story is meaningful because it has an end (I already wrote about this before in “Why the order of the last three issues of The Sandman matters” and have attached a long reblog chain)—not because it plods on endlessly (no pun intended). And that end is exactly what makes it last, what makes people feel, reflect, understand, learn, pass it on.

We, a whole fandom. continuously talk about how upset we are that he died, what we learned from it, what we would do differently (be that in our own lives or in a retelling of the story), and I’ll just leave it at that, because it drives the message home so much more than any further exploration could….

[coeurdelain]

« Elain doesn’t belong to the night court »

I can’t count the number of people who say that.

Especially when it’s false. Where is the books it’s written Elain doesn’t belong in the night court ?

Cassian was talking about hewn city and actually, he was talking about Elain’s dress. Not Elain herself.

It’s also funny how people forgot Elain said the night court was her home.

Nesta also said that Elain was glowing in Velaris.

People love to ignore this because they just don’t want Elain in the night court, near to Azriel. They know if Elain is still there, she always be in Azriel’s thoughts so they want her away. Away from him.

It’s also funny how none of their theories talk about Lucien staying at the night court because Lucien already said he doesn’t want to stay in Velaris.

They understand when Lucien say he doesn’t want to stay in the Night Court but Elain say the Night Court is her home and suddenly they turn a deaf ear.

And then they say it’s not misogyny.

Also, all the people who love and care about her the most are in the night court.

Her brothers-in-laws especially Rhysand. (I can’t wait for their friendship btw)

Her sisters with who her relation seems to be better and better (I need more moments between them in the next book )

Her friends, Nuala and Cerridwen, who are here for her since the beginning. ( and her story with them just start because she’s probably taking lesson with them.)

And then, there is Nyx now. Her nephew.

How someone can imagine that she will leave all these people ?

SJM loves happy ending.

So you’re telling me that Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Mor, Feyre, Nesta, Amren, Nyx, even Nuala, Cerridwen, Emerie and Gwyn will all live happily in the night court while Elain will be in a other court or the human land with people she barely cares about ?

They will all spend time together while Elain will be alone with a man who makes her lost her boldness, and another man who made a r*pe joke about her and laughed at her (Btw people who ship Vassa with Jurian, you also have a problem. This man doesn’t deserve a LI).

Elain Archeron deserves better than your misogyny and your hatred.

[rheareadsss]

Mistake 16

I hope you guys enjoy!🤍

••••••

Gwyn wrapped her arms around Nesta and hugged her tightly, her eyes were on her mate for a minute but then she looked away to hug and look at her friends. Emerie joined in on the hug “I missed you both” Gwyn exclaimed as she hugged Emerie as well

“Happy Solstice” Rhys said while kissing Feyre in the forehead, Feyre hugged him and instantly Nyx was giving him his arms to hold him

Gwyn cried while holding her girls, Emerie and Nesta were not too far off “we’ve missed you Gwyn”

“Tell us everything!” Emerie exclaimed

Gwyn smiled and nods “of course”

Rhys looked at Azriel, he was glued to his spot but a small smile was forming on his lips. He watched as Nesta and Emerie sat around the table with Gwyn in the middle, they served her a plate and began bombarding her with questions.

He listened as she talked about Valhalla, Monterese and many other places she visited. She talked about her friendship with Lucien and Vassa, she informed them that while Jurien was there she didn’t really bonded with him.

“Have you dated?” Emerie asks

Nesta glanced at Azriel quickly, she knew Gwyn’s answer could break him “of course, I’m single now tho”

“Who are you and what have you done to Gwyn?” Cassian asks a bit exaggerated

Gwyn laughs but then clears her throat “she got more life experiences?” She ended with a smile, she didn’t feel like the girl from before whom shied away from Azriel. She no longer feels bothered by his silent presence.

After they ate they moved to the living room and the conversation continued, Gwyn told the girls about Kelvan and Nesta filled her in everything she missed along with Emerie.

“I am officially in a relationship” Emerie announced

“What?”

Mor went and sat next to Emerie “don’t play coy, you knew before everyone else”

Gwyn laughs “you’re right, I did see you in out apartment once or twice”

Emerie blushed

“It’s been a real challenge to get Emerie to training now” Cassian announced

“Lies! I’m always on time” Emerie exclaims

Everyone laughs, Gwyn could feel his gaze on her. It was a torture not to look at him, she could tell he was trying to control his shadows from searching for her.

Gwyn spied as her shadow peaked from behind his wig, when her eyes landed on him it seemed as if it almost perk up. She gave it a smile and instantly the shadow disobeyed his master and ran to get lost in her hair.

She truly had missed that cold wisp of his shadows when they get lost in her hair or the way they wrap around her fingers or wrists, a second shadow went to her and the first one found his way around her neck like it always had.

It was time to exchange gifts and Gwyn had gone home to get hers, she handed everyone a gift that she brought from all throughout her trips.

Azriel went and sat next to her, he saw an open opportunity as Emerie was sitting with Mor and Nesta was opening gifts with Cassian. Gwyn was carrying Nyx. As soon as he sat down Nyx gave him a wide smile, the baby really loved him.

“He has grown hasn’t he?” He starts small talk

“Definitely, do you visit often?” Gwyn asks him now looking at him

“I’m sometimes the designated baby sitter” he admits shyly

Gwyn chuckles “really?”

“Yeah, everyone is already paired off and have plans most of the time” he admits “if not me then Nuala or Cerridwen” he adds

Gwyn smiles and shakes her head

“how you been?” He asks her while he holds one of Nyxs hand

“I’ve been good, how about you?”

“Not so great” he admits “there is so much I need to talk to you about”

“Rhys filled me in, you don’t have to if it hurts you” she adds with a whisper

Azriel nods “I’m sorry for putting you through this” he adds in a whisper

Gwyn only gives him a small smile

“I don’t know if this is the same pain you went through but I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have” he adds

Gwyn nods “I’m settling in but how about we talk some time?”

Azriel gives her a smile “I’d love that”

•

Gwyn had gone to the cabin the next day to spent the day with them and of course see who won the yearly snow fight, everyone had their money on Rhys or Cassian due to Azriel’s state. Gwyn knew that his competitive side wouldn’t let them, one of the many things they have in common, their competitive streak.

It came to a lot of shock and no surprise to her that he actually won, she cheered him on which made him smile widely.

She hugged him and then everyone went to eat, she helped out in the kitchen as everyone digged in. She sat next to Nesta and Cassian, Azriel was busy talking with Rhys.

“He’s finally eating like normal” Cassian said towards Nesta

“He wasn’t eating?” Gwyn asks

“He was” Nesta says “but his appetite wasn’t the same, this is the most I’ve seen him eat in a while” she adds

Gwyn nods and got to talking with Nesta about the plans for the rest of the day.

The girls went outside so Nyx would see the snow, Feyre was carrying him when Nesta started a snowball fight. She hit Cassian until Cassian got a mischievous look on his face and started chasing her. Rhys got a smile on his face and Feyre only raised her eyebrow, still holding Nyx.

Mor threw Amren a snow ball and a fight broke out, Gwyn quickly geared up and assisted Emerie and Nesta on taking Cassian and Azriel down. She truly had missed her family.

•

Gwyn was wrapped in a blanket and holding a hot chocolate cup when Azriel sat next to her “is this okay?”

She nods “what’s going on Az?” She asks while sipping her hot chocolate

He wore comfortable warm clothing, everyone was inside the cabin drinking and playing board games. “How are you?”

“I’m good, I’m actually glad to be back, I missed everyone” she admits “including you despite everything”

He smiled

“Are you okay? You don’t look like yourself” she says concerned about him

“I’m doing fine, taking it day by day” he admits

“Rhys told me about the suppressants, are they working?” She meets his gaze

He nods “yeah, I mean I’m not jumping on you right now” he jokes “I found out that our bond has been accepted but not really fulfilled in a way?”

“I understand, if it gets too much to be around me I can take another traveling trip” she said with a smile

“No, you shouldn’t have to Gwyn, this is your home as much as it is mine” he says with a sad smile “if anything I would just go to hewn city, that’s where I work from most of the time”

She places her hand on top of his “let’s hope it doesn’t have to come to that”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it”

Azriel rubs her hand with his thumb “do you think I would get another chance?”

Gwyn sighs “Az, you knew” she starts “I told you about our bond before you got engaged and didn’t do anything, we were close, we spent a lot of hours together and basically were there for each other and you never felt that way for me”

“Gwyn-“

“No, let me” says interrupts him “you and I were close and yes I developed feelings for you but you never did for me, right now what I think is that you only want a relationship with me because of the bond, not because you love me for me” she finally says what she feels

“Gwyn I have to admit that I was obsessed with the idea of Elain that I was blinded to my feelings towards you, I don’t want to excuse myself but I think I never allowed myself to think of you that way, you are a priestess and it felt wrong to do so” he admits

Gwyn nods “I get that”

“I want a chance to redeem myself, I want to show you that I really do love you and not only because of the bond” he adds

Gwyn sighs “it would take some time Az, maybe years? I was really hurt with everything” she admits

“I’m willing to wait, I’m willing to fight for you Gwyn not because I feel entitled to you no, because you deserve better and I want to be that for you, I want to earn your love, I want to fight for you because you deserve that, nothing less” he says while looking in to her eyes

Gwyn nods and Azriel placed a kiss on top of her hand.

Tag list_

@rcarbo1 @sillyfreakfanparty

[tadpolesonalgae]

Elain x f!reader: Flour Dusted Marigold

A/N: As a femme who likes other femmes, Elain appeals to me in a more wholesome way. Also this one is pretty short but I’m thinking of adding a second part[*] with a fluffy ending

Warnings: a little sexual tension toward the end

-The Sequel-

It’s getting difficult being around her.

You’re trying to be understanding to her situation. Recently rejected by a man she had planned to marry, lost her youngest sister for an unknown period, turned fae - suddenly having to accept her immortal existence - while all the time struggling to reconcile your kinds nature with the folklore she’s been raised on.

But there’s a limit to your patience.

Aware or not, her breath catches every time you enter the room. Her cheeks warm with a rosy tint whenever she replies to your attempted conversation. And the way her pupils dilate whenever I’m close proximity to one another. You won’t even get started on her plump lips, how kissable they are, how it drives you mad whenever she tugs her lower one between her teeth. The Mother truly knows how to test you.

When you enter the kitchen that morning, Elain’s already hard at work, baking something. Her beautiful, chocolatey eyes settle on you and you take note of the flour dusting the bridge of her nose, the flush on her cheeks making the white powder stand out like freckles.

You offer her a warm smile, “morning, ‘lain.” The flush deepens at the name, her attentions latching determinedly back onto the bowl, focusing on whisking some batter. “Good morning,” she return. Your eyes slam the room as you walk up beside her, noting as she stiffens. “Are Nuala and Cerridwen occupied?” You ask, marking the absence of the twin wraiths. She nods meekly, fingers gripping the appliance a little tighter.

A muscle feathers in your jaw. “Elain.”

She looks over to you, her rich, dark eyes skittishly scampering about the kitchen before reluctantly latching to your own. Elain watches, stills as you take a step forward, entering her bubble. Her delicately floral scent soothes a part of you, it doesn’t shove itself up your nostrils, it’s more a gentle caress, a mere suggestion of a smell. Your tongue wets your lips. “We should talk.”

Her eyes flick away from yours as she returns to her baking, plastering on a smile, “what’s there to discuss?” She’s trying to sweep it under the rug. Not this time. Your hand gently cups her jaw, returning her attention to you as you step closer again, not much room able to fit between your finely dressed bodies.

You had intended to pull away, but the way her breath hitched, how she’d ever so slightly, almost indiscernibly, leaned into your palm had you sticking to your move. Even had you raising your other hand as you hold her loosely. Should she truly wish to step away, she could with ease. “Elain,” you breathe, making her eyes flutter with how it sounds on your lips, “tell me why you won’t act for yourself.”

Her body stills, those breathtakingly painful eyes of hers widening as she’s confronted with reality. She doesn’t say anything, just stared at you. “Do humans see it as unnatural?” You inquire, thumb brushing once over her cheek bone. “Do you believe there’s something wrong with creatures like us?”

She shakes her head, lower lip trembling, “I’m not like you.” You ignore the sting, remembering your own experiences, how scared you had been at losing your people. “Not fae? Or not a female who likes other females?” You ask.

“I’m not—” you swallows, eyes flicking away, “I’m not inclined that way,” she lies.

She starts as your forehead presses against her own, “don’t lie to me, Elain. I’ve been through it, I know what it’s like.” Her lips purse, gaze dropping to the floor. “I just want a taste,” you whisper. “Just one, small taste, and if you don’t like it, I’ll leave it,” you breathe, “hel, just say the word now, and I’ll walk away.” You leave her time to close herself off, should she truly feel unprepared, or in any capacity not ready for whatever would follow.

But she makes no move to push you away. Her eyes raise to yours, “one time?” She asks. You nod, “one time. And I’ll stop.” Her head dips, teeth clasping her lower lip as her eyes take in your own mouth. She’s curious.

So slowly, you move closer, heart rate increasing as her eyelids slide shut. Fuck. You can’t mess this up. You have one chance. You inhale a soft breath. Her rosy lips look so tempting, and she’s allowing you a taste.

You have to bite back a sigh of pleasure as you feel the pillowy heat of her mouth against your own. You swear you feel her melt into you, her lips moving by themselves as she presses against you. Nervously, you wrap your arm around her waist, gently pulling her closer as your other hand cups her jaw.

Her scent wafts up to you and your eyes nearly roll to the back of your skull. The mother really decides to test you when Elain releases a quiet moan onto your lips. You pull away for breath, noting with pride it takes her a while to open her eyes, the surface slightly hazy. She presses her forehead against your own, her own hands settling on your waist as you try not to preen. The pads of her fingers slightly dig into your hips as she pulls gently.

She said only one taste, so you need to listen to her. Reluctantly, you pull away, giving her time to think. Her deep, cocoa eyes rise open, pupils taking up most of the iris as she comes back down to reality. Elain’ slips are more flushed than before, cheeks dusted with marigold orange. Small breaths pant from her mouth as her thoughts fly.

It seems as if something integral shatters within her, some long ago enforced rule suddenly being rebuked. Her hands grip your waist, pulling you against her front almost forcefully, unaware of her renewed strength. She turns you round, guiding you back until your spine meets the floury counter.

Elain’s mouth opens over yours as you release a startled sound, her lips rolling over your own. Her hands leave your waist, lifting to your jaw as she tugs your mouth to hers. It’s exhilarating for her. She doesn’t have to be submissive with another female, there are no societal laws that say she needs to be the follower with you. For once in her life, she can take what she wants because she wants it.

The new found revelation is liberating in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Her hips press against yours as the stance of your legs widen, one of your thighs slipping between her legs and she gasps at the sensation. But you pull back, and she nearly slices her nails into your scalp with the temptation to pull you back.

A growl rumbles across her breast bone and her eyes widen. That sound came from her. You both stare at each other, startled. Neither of you had expected that. She pants heavily, “why did you stop?” Heat flushes your cheeks and she wants to taste it. “You said only once,” you breathe, ears tipped red, arms resting over her shoulders, “I didn’t want to push you…” Her clothes feel restricting, like the air suddenly warmed. Heat pools between her legs and you note the look of discomfort that overtakes the haze in her eyes. She shifts, then winces as your thigh presses between her legs. Her lips part at how nice it feel.

“Elain…?” You breathe, her scent overpowering you, arousal permeating the air, tinting it with her distinctive, pleasantly floral flavour. She’s breathing quite hard, “I don’t feel too right.” Worry spawns in the pit of your stomach. You might have overwhelmed the poor female. “What feels wrong?” You inquire gentle, hands cupping her jaw to tilt her head.

“I…” she trails off as her eyes drop to your mouth, “it’s too hot…and I…” Her eyes are flickering, unaware of her grip tightening on your hips. “Shit…” Your eyes widen as the curse slips from her pretty lips. You hadn’t thought you’d ever hear such an unfavourable word leave her perfect mouth. Her gaze focuses, pinning you beneath it’s awareness.

“I want more.”

Taglist: @myheartfollower

[thelibraryoflightandflowers]

Don't Touch Me

A short one-shot/re-imagine of Feyre's first visit to the Night Court, because I sometimes wish she had been angrier at Rhys and because I need to get some feelings out.

Feyre

I didn’t want to be here. I would have stayed in my bed all day if I had the choice. 

The choice. 

When have I been given a choice, lately? I couldn’t think of one time, since…since Under the Mountain that I had been given a choice. It made some foreign, unbroken part of me sick. The part that roared at the frilly dresses, the jewelry, and choosing decor. I ignored that part of me. It was easier that way. Things would get better; Tamlin would get better, someday maybe I would get better. I just had to be patient with him. 

That tugging on the bond that had dragged me from that enormous bed came again. I had been sitting in the bath for too long, I supposed. I got myself dressed, welcoming the numbness I felt. It was better than honesty. Better than the rage I felt bubbling every moment of my day. Better than that one, old, unbroken part of me screaming in anger at what I had allowed myself to become. 

Nuala walked me back to the hall, where a table with heaping plates of food - far too much for two people - waited. It disgusted me, this extravagance. This unnecessary show of wealth. Somehow, it was different than it was with Tamlin. 

Wasn’t it? 

“Good morning, Feyre darling.” That voice crooned. I hated that voice. Hated the man - male - it belonged to. I didn’t bother to hide it. I ignored him, sitting as far away from him as I could - which was admittedly not that far. The table wasn’t the long, large dining table of Tamlin’s manor. I assumed that he’d shrunken it in the same way Tamlin did at home. I didn’t move to put food on my plate; I simply sat there, staring at my hands in my lap. Ignoring the Night Court attire I wore. His voice shook me from my thoughts again. I hadn’t heard him, and frankly didn’t care enough to bother to ask him to repeat himself. Why should I care what he said? It was all lies anyway. 

“Ignoring me, are we Feyre?” 

I forced myself to look up, to meet the eyes that sometimes appeared in my nightmares. 

“What do you want, Rhysand?” I didn’t keep the scorn from my voice. He deserved it, for everything he had done to me, to Tamlin and his family, to everyone he’d hurt Under the Mountain. 

“Right now, I want you to eat. Then we can talk about the plan for the week.” He smiled in that cold, infuriating way that never failed to make my blood boil. I didn’t move, content to sit there instead. He didn’t get to tell me what to do. That small part of me suggested I throw some food at his stupid, perfect face. I laughed, inside, but refrained, if only because I knew that as good as I was with a bow and arrow, my aim was far from decent. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards a little, as if my refusal was somehow amusing. I scowled. 

“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, did we?” He simpered. Just for a second, I let that small part of me rise, let myself think of all of the hateful things I wanted to say - how awful he was, how much of an utter monster he was, how I wasn’t surprised that he and Amarantha had gotten along - I stopped myself after that thought. I didn’t want to think about her. His small smile slowly faded, replaced for a second by an expression that looked like pain, before it was wiped from his face and replaced with his signature smirk. I didn’t care enough to wonder why. “I wonder why. It’s not as if I was essentially kidnapped yesterday, or anything.” Again, that pained expression flashed across his face. 

“Eat.” He simply responded. Slowly, I moved to place a bread roll onto my plate. Followed by a little bit of the other, many, foods close to me. He watched, silently. So I ate, silently, resolutely ignoring the male sitting across from me. When I was done, he waved his hand and everything disappeared. Another arrogant display of power. I turned over his earlier words in my head.

“Now what?” I asked. 

“This week, I want you to learn to read. You should also really learn how to shield yourself from people like me, especially if you’re going to be a High Lord’s bride.”

I could feel that anger boiling again in me. I shoved it down. “No.”

“No?” He asked, quietly, dangerously. That mortal part of me cowered in fear. That small, unbroken part of me rose to the challenge, roaring back. I ignored both. 

“If I want to learn how to read, or shield myself, I will; but it will not be with you. Ever.” I let some of the malice drip into my voice. He did not get to order me around, that small part of me whispered. For once, I listened. Who knew what would happen if I let him boss me around, gave him that room. He’d no doubt take advantage of it. 

All too quickly, I could feel his dark talons in my mind. Once again, everything I was, my body, my soul yielded to him. I hated the feeling, perhaps more than I hated everything else. 

“ This is what happens when you have an unguarded mind. You are completely defenseless against me. Is that what you want?” He snarled. I was panicking, trying to get him out and it wasn’t working and I couldn’t stop thinking of everything I had been so good at ignoring these past few months. 

“Shove. Me. Out.” He snarled again. I tried, shoving blankly at the darkness, the thoughts trying to pull me deeper into my mind than I was willing to go, and I couldn’t do - I felt that small, unbroken part of me step up, and imagined a wall of black adamant, saving me, protecting me, from this male . I felt it snap down, slicing through the tendrils of power in my mind. I felt him fully recede from my mind, as if letting me win this round. My mind felt like jelly. 

“Good job. Blunt, but effective.” He responded. I could barely hear him over the roaring in my ears. He got up, still talking but I couldn’t hear him, and he walked to the doorway. I felt him pause, and really look at me, and I could imagine what he saw: my hands, gripping the table so hard I thought it would shatter, the face, pale and ashen, the eyes, wild and teary. He started towards me, but I forced that calm, cool numbness back onto my face. Forced myself to control my breathing. I could not show weakness in front of him, I knew that much. It would be like a deer limping in front of a hungry wolf. I stood up, waiting for him to turn back, to walk towards wherever we were going. Forced myself not to panic, to come up with a million horrible possible destinations. I forced myself to meet his gaze, and ignored the flash of something that looked like guilt, like pain , in his eyes. He turned, and walked out of the room. I followed. 

Rhysand

What had I just done? As I walked towards one of the studies, I tried to erase the image of Feyre from my mind. Of her pure, undiluted terror at me, my power, what I had done. I tried to forget the entire interaction we had just had. I had felt so prepared, as I had sat down for breakfast. So sure I could handle this, handle her . I was, obviously, so very wrong. I had tried so hard to stay out of her mind, the unspoken anger there. I was surprised I hadn’t broken down when I had truly felt the extent of her rage towards me. When I had heard the thoughts she had practically screamed down the bond at me . I couldn’t focus on them right now; I just had to keep myself together for the next few paces, and then I could break. Could let myself sink into the hate she had for me - she thought I was a monster, and I couldn’t blame her. 

We finally reached the door, and I opened it, strutting into the space, making sure that mask was present on my face as I turned towards her. Her face was blank, unnervingly so, a mask as careful as my own. I didn’t let myself dwell on it. I motioned for her to sit at the desk, where sheets of paper appeared with a wave of my hand. She bristled when I showed her the alphabet, snarking at me that she wasn’t stupid. I wanted to scream, tell her of course she wasn’t stupid, that it wasn’t her fault, that it wasn’t a shortcoming of hers . I didn’t. I watched her struggle to read the sentence I had written out, crooned out the sentence hoping it would make her laugh - it didn’t. Of course it didn’t. I told her to copy the alphabet, and raise and lower her shields. She snarled at me. I left, without another word.

 I winnowed just outside the door, waiting. To see if she threw something, screamed, slumped onto the desk, anything . Instead, I heard something that hurt worse than anything Amarantha had done to me. I heard her cry, softly, as though she didn’t want to be heard. I had never hated myself more than I did at that moment. Her thoughts replayed in my head. 

No wonder you and Amarantha got along . She thought I was like Amarantha. I winnowed to my bedroom in the palace, the one that I rarely used. I didn’t like staying up here, so close to the Court of Nightmares. So far from my City of Starlight. I sagged against the door, until I hit the floor. I felt sick. I could feel her practicing - at least I had accomplished what I had wanted to. But at what cost? I let her thoughts replay in my mind, let the horrible things I had done wash over me, and I began to cry. Crying, for the monster she thought I was, for the guilt that washed over me endlessly, for the pain, so much pain, that I had caused her. When I felt that the time was almost up, I stopped. I walked into the bathroom, splashing some cold water on my face. I looked into the mirror, and all I saw was the monster she thought I was. Perhaps I saw the monster I really was. I plastered the mask back onto my face, and winnowed back into the study. 

She still sat in that chair, with pages of her letters, copied again and again, spread out before her. They were nearly perfect, a neat scrawl that was so vastly different from before that I beamed with pride, inside. On the outside, I smirked, and tried to sneak a small tendril into her mind. I was met with a black wall of adamant. She had already made so much progress in such a small amount of time. I was in awe of the female in front of me, in awe of how fast she learned new skills. I wished I could tell her that. Instead, I stretched out a hand, which she ignored, in favour of standing up herself, stepping around me, and beginning to walk back to her room. I stayed frozen, my hand still outstretched. She couldn’t even touch me. 

I winnowed without thinking, ending up in the townhouse, where Mor, Cassian, and Azriel waited for me. I didn’t register them, not really, nor did I register falling to my knees, darkness swirling around me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think beyond the fear, the pain, the hatred Feyre had for me. Mor sensed that this was a moment best shared between my brothers and I, and winnowed away - no doubt to get some sweet treat for me, as she usually did. Cassian and Azriel stepped into the bubble of darkness I was in. I didn’t care that they could see the tears running down my face, hear the ragged sobs as they ripped from my mouth. 

“Oh, Rhys.” Cassian breathed, rushing for me. He hugged me, hard, and the darkness faded slowly, returning us to the front hall of the townhouse. Azriel joined the pile Cassian and I had made on the floor on my other side, and I allowed myself to simply cry, knowing I’d never be judged, never had to hide my feelings with these males. 

“She hates me.” I sobbed, not even bothering to control myself. 

“Rhys, she doesn’t know you. Talk to her, get to know her, she will understand, she will see you for who you are.” Azriel, ever the voice of reason, responded. 

“Yeah Rhys, once she gets to know you, she’ll love you.” Cassian chimed in. I wanted to believe them, but I had never told them all of the things that had happened Under the Mountain. I had never told them all of the awful things I had done; I knew they would not see me differently, but I couldn’t admit the things Amarantha had done, what I had let her do. Not just to me, but to everyone in Prythian.   

Feyre

As I walked back to my room, I tried to shove the anger I felt back down into the cage I had built for it. I could feel the careful control slipping, the pain I felt constantly threatening to bubble up into a rage I was scared I wouldn’t be able to control. Although, I wasn’t in the Spring Court. Maybe I should let myself loose on these fae, on that male who ignored every feeling I had because he was bored. Why shouldn’t I? After all, he had done so much worse to me, to everyone in Prythian, to Tamlin and his family. Shoving all of those angry thoughts down, I collapsed onto the bed in my room, and didn’t move for the rest of the day.

It took a lot of energy, not being angry.  

As I walked down the hallway the next morning, I could feel Nuala eying me cautiously. I had woken up this morning because of yet another insistent tug on that bond, and it finally snapped whatever small amount of self-control I had been holding on to. I stormed out of my room, before calming myself enough to go back and change and let Cerridwen fix my hair. At another tug on the bond, I rose, taking a deep breath, before striding from the room and towards the dining room. I did not know what I was planning to do, or what I was planning to say, but I was sure that the self-control I had held on to for so long was finally gone, and I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about it. 

I sat down at the table without so much as looking at the male sitting across from me. Hopefully, he would take the hint and leave me be. However, I didn’t think I’d feel that bad if I snapped at him, if I felt bad at all. He chose to ignore the clear signal I had sent.

“You look lovely today, Feyre darling.” He crooned. My blood boiled. I glared across the table at him, trying not to snap and scream at him. I reminded myself of Nesta in that moment, the fiery temper we shared had reappeared after being dormant for so long, it seemed.

“What, still angry at me?” He smirked, the smile being all I needed to let go of the final strand of decorum I had been holding on to. 

“Rhysand, I don’t think there is a soul alive that isn’t angry with you at the moment - not that I can blame them of course. After all, you whored yourself out for 50 years and let the rest of Prythian suffer, and for what? Was it just because you were bored? Is that also why you interrupted what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, making my reservations very clear as you did?” I was shouting now, and I couldn’t bring myself to care. 

He flinched. It was enough to make me pause, watching him. He seemed…cowed, like what I had said had hurt him more than it should have, and part of me almost felt bad. Would have felt bad, had that angry beast inside me not smothered the feeling in flames. I waited for a response, yet one never came. He just sat there, staring at me. I opened my mouth, and he flinched back again, like he couldn’t hear whatever I was going to hurl at him next. It was enough for the angry part of me to settle, so that I could rise to my feet and stride for the door. He wasn’t worth the anger, and I wouldn’t allow myself, however broken I was, to act this way. I wouldn’t allow myself to become like Nesta, angry and bitter. 

I stopped when a hand grabbed my wrist. I whirled around, yanking my hand from his grip. 

“Don’t touch me!” I screamed, truly screamed. “Why do you think you can touch me, go into my head, take me away from my home, from my fiancé, just because you feel like it?!” I was in his face now. He backed up, face paling. 

“I - Feyre, I -” I didn’t let him finish. 

“Shut up! Nothing you say will undo everything you did to me Under the Mountain, nothing you say will fix it! You can’t lie your way out of this, Rhysand!” I continued to crowd into his space, my finger digging into his chest. His hands stayed by his sides, fingers twitching, as if he wanted to grab me. His face continued to crumple, and I continued to scream, not even noticing his pain…until I saw a tear run down his cheek. 

Rhysand

I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. She was so angry , and I understood why, but I hated it. Hated myself, for not thinking of a better plan Under the Mountain, for being the monster she said I was, and I hadn’t even noticed I was crying until I heard her sharp inhale, and felt the wet streaks on my face. I realized that I needed to be honest, I needed to tell her something , even if I couldn’t tell her all of it, couldn’t tell her what I had wanted to every time I saw her. 

“Cauldron, Feyre, I - I’m” My voice broke “ I’m so sorry .”.  She stopped, then took a step away, and even though she hated me I wanted her to come back, to feel her warmth against me. 

“I - You’re right. I was horrible to you Under the Mountain, and I can’t do or say anything to undo that.” I was crying freely now, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. “I want to help you, not hurt you. I meant what I said, Feyre, I am not your enemy. I’m sorry that I haven’t listened, and that I took you away from - from him. Please , believe me, Under the Mountain, I - I was trying to keep you alive, and I didn’t know how else to do it, but that doesn’t make it right.” I paused, unsure if I should share this with her, this female who hated me, but I knew I had to be honest, if I could even hope of getting her to trust me. “Amarantha, she - I…I was not…with her because I wanted to be. I…I was trying to keep my people safe.” I didn’t go into more detail, I didn’t think I could, not with everything that had just happened, everything I had said, still ringing in my ears. I held my breath, waiting for her to stomp on every part of my heart that I had just laid bare in front of her. I didn’t realize my eyes were closed, until I snapped them open at the feeling of a hand on my arm. She had tears in her eyes, too, and I didn’t step away, letting her touch ground me. 

“Rhys…I am so sorry. I should never have spoken to you that way, no matter how angry I was. Thank you for telling me the truth.”. 

She slowly, so slowly, opened her arms and placed them around me, giving me the chance to move away. I didn’t, letting her hug me, placing my arms around her middle, before slowly, giving her the chance to push away too, leaning down to bury my face in her neck. She didn’t pull away either. 

I didn’t want to let myself hope, but a part of me thought that maybe it would be okay, between us. Whatever that looked like.     

[nualaofthefaerie]

God created me so I could become the Sandflower creator.

There is no better pan4pan flavour in the Sandman, I'm sorry people. You can try and I am open to you trying, but they are just too much of a wall. Once Nuala hits screens, it's game over for everyone, I am telling you from now and my gospel will be heard. The amount of FLAVOUR Nuala brings to every ship is just incomprehensible. She is like Sandman MSG. But here are my Sandman ships in order:

Sandflower - it's my creation (and the 120 people who voted for their name), it's my passion, it's the sun and the moon dynamic, the good and the grey, the kind and the cruel, the unapologetic and the fearful, they are EVERYTHING. They can be such a complex, intricate, slow burn dynamic - in canon, in almost any AU, they are fucking perfect. Try to understand Nuala, truly and she opens up like a leaf. Like the perfect spice. (@ineffablyendless and @anaviarts are the Nuala/Sandflower co-presidents, go to them for details.)

ImmortalFlower - Nuala and Hob have a very princess and knight dynamic. They also actually know each other and I think there is a very specific genre they cover. People who are not into Sandflower are usually into ImmortalFlower. (I won't get into the thruple, but it's not even my favourite Hob dynamic)

Desire x Lucifer - top on top, both are flying the plane and they are doing it in a blonde and immaculate fashion

Bast x Johanna - so complex, so beautiful. I have gone in detail about them in this post.

Lyta Hall x Calliope - the MOTHERSHIP. They posses a certain level of motherhood that is immaculate to me. Extremely sapphic, extremely married. Extrmely domestic. Raise and love their sons together.

Corinthian x Orpheus - my boys, my darling, beautiful boys, they hunt, sing and kiss sometimes.

Hob x Cluracan - Cluracan is a trans man actually (I can go into heavy detail and we @anaviarts will, we WILL go into heavy detail) and my brain is humongous for this (she says even though it's @quibvsposts idea). This is without doubt my main Hob ship and they have this spicy dynamic. The back and forth is immaculate.

Gault x Lucienne - Tumblr convinced me

Me talking about the rare and exceptional dynamics of the Sandman like:

Love,

Li 🪷

I'm curious darling mutuals, treasured followers... Unfortunate souls who accidentally got lost in my corner of tumblr. What are your most beloved Sandman ships? There's been such a glorious explosion of ships lately, I'm interested in which pairings make your heart go all a flutter.

(Fellow multishippers, your absolute favourites only. We all know we have them. 😅 Or the lists could be endless).

I'm currently dangerous levels of feral over Corinthiel (The Corinthian x Daniel) and Desunity (Desire x Unity). I'm also in love with the heart warming goodness which is Lucienne x Calliope. And still dabble with the Dreamling boys. I desperately need an in universe Destiny ship. 😅 Oh and after reading Death: At Death's Door, Despoe for life obviously!

[onehundredandeleventropicalfish]

thinking about that time destruction talked about how the endless aren't just necessary for their specific aspect, they also exist to define its opposite - death defines life, destiny defines freedom, despair defines hope, destruction creation, and so on

and when dream is super skeptical and asks destruction what he supposedly defines in this paradigm, destruction guesses reality

and i do think in some ways destruction was right. reality was the right word to use here. but i don't think reality is necessarily dream's opposite

like, the way most of the endless define their opposite is in a very negative space kinda way - freedom exists within the limits of destiny, and acts as a counter to it, and because of this constant battle the two are in, destiny sets a lot of the parameters for what freedom means. despair comes with the loss of hope, and is in turn countered by hope, it's a give and take. and it's the knowledge of death that makes people realise what life means to them

death has a little power over life, but for the most part, the endless don't have direct control over their opposite, they just move the pieces around it

and you'd think the same would be true with dream and reality. and on the surface it is - he's constantly described by people as a being of metaphor, allusion, abstraction, imagination, myth, stories, and if you're john dee, lies. his realm is where things that are not yet real become real. and his power over 'reality' is only through the ways people choose to act on their dreams

(i put reality in quotes because we don't actually mean reality in that particular sentence, we mean the waking world)

but i think about dreams, and their purpose. and i think about how alex burgess always appears in his dreams as a child, how hob always appears as a medieval peasant even in the modern day, how dream specifically told nuala if she was going to stay in the dreaming, she can't wear a glamour, he doesn't want that kind of magic in his home

dreams reveal your true self. the waking world is where you can put on all your fronts, where you can hide and lie and play as much as you like, but you physically can't do any of that in a dream. pretenses just don't work here, in the dreaming you will always be your truest, deepest self. and even if they did, if you could put on a mask while dreaming, how could that dream ever help you, if you can't face who you are underneath it?

it's why dream gets so annoyed when people call the waking world the real world - from his perspective, the dreaming is the real world, the one full of real people

(somewhat ironic that when john dee was trying to get rid of all the lies and pretenses, he was basically just recreating a dream within that diner - except when the dream is shared and it has actual consequences beyond the end of the dream, when the dream happens in the waking world, that's when it becomes a problem)

(dreams aren't lies. dreams are honest, much more so than the waking world - but it has to be that way, because honesty can be dangerous, for a variety of reasons. dreams allow that honesty to exist free of consequence. the waking world requires masks and social rules because that's how people function as a collective, it can't just be one person's unhindered thought process)

if you define reality as what happens in the waking world, then yes, dream fits in perfectly with his siblings

but if you define reality as the truest state of everything's existence, then the dreaming is far more a demonstration of reality than anywhere else. dream creates space for reality to exist, just as much as he creates space for it not to, he's a master of both

and in my ever expanding thesis on how the endless, bar delirium, are unable to experience their own aspect? dream has just as much trouble seeing himself for who he is, as he does hoping for his own future

[shitwillnotbegiven]

SJM has always been so obvious about the 3 brothers/3 sisters thing that at this point expecting anything else doesn't really make sense.

We all know that she is doing the healing with the help of the LI + 2 friends for the Acotar series and she has already done this with the 3 sisters:

- Feyre's lowest point was the beginning of Acomaf then Rhys steps in with Mor and Amren + (Cassian and Azriel) and help her getting out of that bad place.

- Elain's lowest point was the beginning of Acowar then Azriel steps in with Nuala and Cerridwen and help her get out of that bad place.

- Nesta's lowest point was the beginning of Acosf then Cassian steps in with Emerie and Gw*n and help her get out of that bad place.

It's interesting to note that even without her own book, Elain has already filled that pattern. I'm not saying she is completely healed but her lowest point is far behind her. And that also means her book will be different than Feyre's and Nesta's.

When SJM said it was obvious, she was talking about things like this.

[offtorivendell]

Things/scenes that made you so sure of Elriel

Hi Anon, thanks for stopping by. Sorry this took me so long to answer, but I was taking a break from Tumblr. Now I'm back and refreshed, so here we go.

Firstly, I just want to clarify that while I think Elriel makes the most sense to me, in terms of plot and character dynamics, I'm not 100% sure of them, because nothing is set in stone until the book is published. That being said, I really hope I'm not wrong here, because I love pretty much all aspects of their potential.

I wanted to give this ask some proper thought - because obviously I've said plenty about Elain and Azriel before - but why do I think they're the most likely ship for Elain and Azriel both? The answer, in the end, is really simple, and lies in what we don't yet know.

There are so many questions about the Truth-Teller scene that remain unanswered.

I was talking with @ladynightcourt3 a little earlier this week, and it just clicked. Besides the mystery behind Azriel's own history, shadows and dagger - when and where was Truth-Teller found (in his father's dungeon, or maybe he found it later on), and did Koschei plant some or all of his shadows on a young faerie with an affinity for them, or did Azriel develop them himself as his magic matured, because he's descended from Koschei and/or the Dusk Court? - it honestly blows my mind that people think Elain, who has used shadows herself, not to mention Truth-Teller, to great effect, wouldn't be the one involved in that discussion/revelation.

This is the main reason, of admittedly many, why Elriel makes the most sense to me.

Sure, Gwyn's breath* in the bonus POV appeared to make, or encourage, Azriel's shadows to dance - and I hope we learn why - but Elain has actually, actively used someone's shadows (her own, or Azriel's, Rhys', Nuala's, or Cerridwen's... we still don't know for sure!) and Azriel's Made dagger to kill the King of Hybern. She became the knife in the dark, the name Feyre gave to Azriel. Why would anyone other than Elain be a part of that discovery, given we have so many pertinent unanswered questions about her own role at the end of ACOWAR?

* No, I'm not saying Gwyn is intentionally evil or bad, just that something made Azriel's shadows curious enough to interact with her breath. I also suspect that the vision of her eyes that Azriel saw may have originated from Clotho, who could be a daemati or some sort of Singer or Starborn herself, and that the spark in his chest was possibly latent Starborn magic being activated, like Ruhn from CC, who has to burrow through his shadows to access his Starborn light. Whether that was done by Clotho, or the combined magic of the seven singing priestesses and their magical songs, I'm not sure.

[nualaofthefaerie]

In another post you mentioned you had marked all your favorite Sunflower moments/interactions. Do you mind sharing your favorites with your devout followers?

Much love, Fauxraven

It is high time I come back to writing in here.

I will start by answering some questions, I've been overlooking for a while and then will share why I was away for as long as I have.

Let's discuss my favourite Sandflower interactions though. Thank you for the question and this is going to be quite lengthy as a post, but please bear with me. + the interactions are not ordered by how favourite of mine they are, but rather chronologically for the sake of order in the post 🪷

!Spoilers for the entirety of the Sandman comics under the divider!

Season of Mists

This one is very easy. It's the first time they meet and immediately two panels are very important to me as far as their relationship goes.

People make the VERY wrong assumption Nuala was always enthralled by Morpheus but she wasn't. She met him under her "Ice Maiden" title - a fairy so desired men died for a sliver of her attention. She went to the Dreaming as ordered by Titania, the reasons for which could be discussed in another post. Nuala being a gift to Morpheus is a very calculated move by Titania, putting both Nuala and Morpheus in extremely uncomfortable for them positions. Initially. The reason I love this panel is because it shows simultenously that Nuala didn't care about Morpheus at all and she was being arrogant towards him.

The second interaction in Season of Mists that I want to point out is this panel right here. Although on the surface this entire interaction is quite meaningful this panel right here is very important for two reasons. One and that is the obvious one, he is forcing Nuala on a journey of self-discovery and love, stripping the deceptive glamour thrusted upon her from the moment she first existed (all fairies wear glamour). Second, Morpheus notes to "misliking little magics in his realm", which is factually untrue - everything in his realm is magic in one form or another. What he dislikes is not being in control of the magic being distributed throughout his realm. So here already he had begun very clearly being dishonest with Nuala, which we will see further becomes a pattern - he will say one thing and do the exact opposite.

A Game of You

The famous page. But what people rarely talk about this panel is that Morpheus makes the active choice to be nice to her. Something he doesn't do. It is okay to not believe me, but go back, read for yourself, Morpheus doesn't praise people, he doesn't hand out empty compliments or say nice things to people in general. Now, this is the first time he does that with Nuala. He will do it one-two more times I think - he will praise her to other people and briefly before they separate for the last time. Nuala is someone Morpheus harbours positive feelings for. However, from that point forward, we will see Morpheus making the choice to act in a way he usually doesn't and do things he doesn't usually do. This is the face of the Sandflower community (me and my three bitches), but it is not my favourite panel by a long slide.

Brief Lives

I can choose a lot of interactions from "Brief Lives" however that will take an excrutiating amount of time. The most important thing about Brief Lives is the pendant Nuala receives from Thessaly, Morpheus' nasty attitude, because he is being whiny he got broken up with and what a wonderful pretty girl Lala is. This panel encapsulates that so that's why it's here.

THIS interaction has to be top 3 of my favourite interactions between them. Remember when I said in the beginning people hold big misconceptions about Nuala as a character - that she is a weak, spineless character that fades into the background. This panel is my favourite to disprove those.

"Nuala is meek to Morpheus."

No, Nuala likes Morpheus, there is a difference. Because if she was meek, she would've never stood up for herself or put him in his place, which she does in this very conversation despite their more than obvious power dynamics. While Morpheus shows open distain for her people, Nuala simply and confidently tells Morpheus she cannot change who she is, which is a surprise to the Dream Lord. She is unwilling to allow to be slandered like that whether he is a king or a jester.

This one is here because 1. He lets her keep the pendant, which at that point is not deliberate on his side but it will become a point of deep connection between them (there is a theory about the pendant, another post I want to write a lot), in a way he didn't have with Thessaly mind you. 2. He calls her "Little one" and I think that is adorable.

World's End

I will not put anything from Worlds End because it's the most important Sandflower volume in my opinion. I will, at some point write a whole post about Issue #52. For now, if you're interested go read Issue #52.

The Kindly Ones

This is my single favourite panel in the entire Sandman. Nuala and Morpheus were the original "You came/ You called" and I can't wait to see it in the series through the eyes of Nuala's actress and Tom Sturridge. ( I want to write a whole separate post about the pendant too, so, for now this is enough).

And lastly, I could put their whole conversation here and I could put the numerous comparison's between Morpheus' relationship with Thessaly and with Nuala. But I won't do that because they are irrelevant.

When Nuala became "The Maiden" both in the sense of the Kinly Ones and Persephone, she became a tragic figure bound by her love for a man that is quietly self-distructive. If you go back and read through the comic, there is a distinct uncertainty about Morpheus' coldness from his official partners - Calliope says he suddenly became cold; Thessaly believes he sees people as things he wants until he gets them and then he gets bored; Titania does not talk a lot about the nature of their relationship, however from context we can infer he also stopped responding to her at some point and she is still hung on him (as seen by her conversation with Nuala). Only Nuala recognizes his coldness for what it is - a deep inner hatred of himself and usage of loneliness as a means of punishment of himself. She ecognizes the patterns of his behaviours from his standpoint as opposed to her own, symbolizing the level to which they are connected, whether we as readers realize it or not (because I initially didn't). Nuala wants to save Morpheus, but she is very well aware that she can't.

As for Morpheus he choose Nuala as the last woman (because he did choose to go to her, he had every right to refuse and protect his kingdom, despite the boon) to visit before his death, even though Thessaly had at that point broken him up and he had given up (as by the red flowers in their feet). It is such a heartbreaking panel. Because it is the one that actually shows the depth to which Nuala sees Morpheus past his mask and the level to which Morpheus lies to her for a reason we never find out.

An amalgamation of all they had experienced together is him saying "He didn't notice" and yet, no one who has read the comics from start to finish believes Morpheus. He doesn't believe himself. She was the last person outside of his closest circle he ever saw. Why? Because of his responsibility to a boon? No. He could've left, he knew she would understand, even though she was most adamant he should stay. He stayed because he wanted.

~*~

My personal belief here is that Morpheus in his evident self-hatred did everything in his power to make Nuala turn away from him. He recognizes her as something good and we know Morpheus does not believe he deserves good things. So their last conversation is also a way for him to hurt her to a point where she wouldn't be in pain once he dies. Because she is good and he is not.

Author's note:

It's on posts like these that I realize how much I've uncovered about Sandflower since I first started. I genuinely thought I was in a crackhead space and yet, going back and reading again it's truly baffling how many times Neil wrote actions instead of words - because the good thing about comics is that we can not only read we can see, and the actions Morpheus takes towards someone he doesn't seemingly care about all that much, do not align with his words. I encourage everyone to make their own headcanons or draw their own conclusions. These are my personal and of course they highly reflect my biased viewpoints.

Love,

Li

[high-lady-of-earth]

Court of Nightmares

Azriel x Reader Oneshot

Summary: You and Azriel must go down to the Court of Nightmares. Afterwards, you find out that Az is a little insecure about his scars. This incorporates a prompt I received from @spaghettinoode1234

Hope you enjoy:)

You were the newest addition to the inner circle. You were a high fae, formerly a human, who had been Made during the war with Hybern.

You had a tenuous relationship with society after being alone for years in Hybern, so your residence had become the House of the Wind, which you actually enjoyed, unlike the others. Nesta had been glad to let you live with her and Cassian.

It was once again time for the Solstice and with it came presents. You had to buy presents for Feyre, Rhys, Elain, Mor, Armen, and Azriel. Nesta and Cassian were away on a mission. But with the solstice, came another, darker thing. The visit to the Court of Nightmares.

You were a sort of jammer when it came to magic. Your powers functioned to block the magic of others. With tensions rising in the Hewn City, Rhys wanted you and Azriel to pay Kier the annual visit.

Mor had informed you that Azriel wanted to go tonight, so you had to get your shopping out of the way today because solstice was tomorrow. Clad in a pair of loose pants and a long sleeved mesh top, you bundled up in a fur coat and winnowed to the Palace of Threads and Jewels.

Surveying the vendors, you looked for gifts for your friends. Rhys provided you with more money than you needed, so cost wasn’t an issue. You already had a rough idea of what you wanted to get for everyone. For Feyre and Rhysand, you wanted to find something for Nyx.

For Elain, you had seen a cart that sold rare flowers from the continent. They were roses, but enhanced with magic to sparkle in the daylight. Elain was working hard in the garden’s of Feyre and Rhys’ new house, and you knew they would look perfect on a trellis next to a fountain.

Mor was the easiest to shop for. You described an outfit to a tailor you wanted made and you were waiting for it to be finished. The ensemble consisted of a blouse, cropped to where the ribs ended, covered in thousands of glass beads. The skirt was the prettiest pink color with a slit up the side and an embroidered border made of glass beads at the top and bottom. Perhaps the most striking was the shawl, which drew on Eastern styles and was covered in the most beautiful embroidery and rhinestones. You had truly outdone yourself.

Armen was even easier. You had walked into Velaris’ most expensive jewelry store and had immediately found a something for Amren. It was a delicate necklace with a large stone in the middle. It was a red stone that changed color with the light, shifting between pink, red, and orange hues. You asked the lady what the stone was and learned that legend said it was a single scale from a dragon, given to the jeweler’s ancestor many thousands of years ago. The jeweler had decided to part with it suddenly after the war.

The last gift was for Azriel. You had absolutely no idea what to get him. He had saved your life, and you were head over heels for him, but it seemed as though there was a deep sadness to him. Mor had told Azriel that she preferred females, but he didn’t take it too well. He was still healing and you didn’t want to push him. Thus, you had no idea what was considered an appropriate gift.

You walked through the carts aimlessly, when suddenly an idea came to your mind. From experience, you knew that Azriel’s hands got ice cold. He couldn’t put on gloves because of his siphons. You would have someone make leather gloves lined with fur with an opening for his siphons. You asked a tailor to make the gloves and then started wandering again, looking for baby items.

You came across a cart selling baby jewelry and immediately found what you wanted to give Feyre and Rhys. It was a circlet, made of diamonds and onyx that represented the night court. It was beautiful and expertly crafted. The woman selling it told you it was one of a kind. She had not made any others to sell. You paid the woman in gold coins and gathered the rest of your presents. Then, you winnowed back to the House of Wind.

When you winnowed into the living room, you were startled by Azriel’s presence. He was sitting in chair, shrouded by darkness, looking at your intently. He held a box in his hands, which you knew contained the clothes you would have to wear.

“Time to go already?” You asked him.

“Indeed it is, Y/n.” He murmured. You loved the way Azriel’s voice was deep and smooth when he talked to you, making it almost sensual.

Azriel got up from the chair and banished his shadows to the edge of the room. You could now see his lean form without the darkness of the shadows. Azriel wore his Illyrian fighting leathers as well as his siphons. However, he had decided to forgo some of his armor, displaying enticing planes of his skin on his abdomen and back. You imagined how the muscles in his back would ripple as he walked.

Azriel approached you and gave you the box. He told you that he had brought Cerridwen and Nuala to help you get ready and that he would be waiting here, in the living room. You nodded and walked to your bedroom. Inside, were Cerridwen and Nuala with a steaming bath. They helped you strip off your clothes and then scrubbed your skin raw, rubbing in scented oils.

Once they had dried you off, they brought out your outfit. It was a midnight blue gauzy dress that was more conservative than Feyre’s Court of Nightmares outfit. You had to admit, the dress didn’t look bad at all. It had a plunging neckline that went down to the waist and two slits up the side of the dress that went up to your hips, but the opaque midnight fabric was overlaid with a translucent tulle blue fabric. Your legs were covered. Cerridwen put the dress on you and then Nuala sat you down to do your hair.

She blew it out, straightening it to get rid of the frizz, then she curled the edges. In the front, she grabbed some hair on each side and braided a thin strand, which she clipped in the back using a silver hair clip inlaid with midnight blue gems. Then, Nuala grabbed loose stones and threaded them into your hair.

Next, Cerridwen and Nuala worked on your makeup. They stayed simple, doing a smokey eye, eyeliner, and mascara for your eyes and a mauve berry lip gloss for your lips. They finished by dusting a silver shimmery powder over your cheeks. Cerridwen handed you a pair of silver strappy heels, which you put on and walked back to the living room.

Azriel looked up at you and your eyes met. For a split second, you thought you saw heat in his eyes, but it went away and you thought you might have imagined it.

“I’m giving you your solstice gift early, Y/n.” Azriel said, bringing out another large velvet box. He opened it to reveal several pieces of midnight blue jewelry, all the same color of his siphons.

“They’re all so beautiful.” You whispered to Azriel, looking up at him. He moved around to the back of you and helped you put on the necklace.

“They are nothing compared to you.” Azriel said. Your heart skipped a beat. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t respond. You put on the dangling earrings and bracelets and ring.

“I’m ready to go.” You told Azriel. He stood behind you and put an arm around your waist, getting ready to fly you there.

“You remember the drill, right? You sit on my lap and tell me what people are thinking. Block their magic if you think they are a threat.”

“Yup. The whole Daemati drill.”

Azriel’s arm tightened around your waist and the two of you suddenly traveled through the fabric of space and time itself. The world whooshed around you and you closed your eyes so you wouldn’t get dizzy. Then, almost as suddenly as you disappeared, the throne room of the Hewn City materialized around you.

Azriel had winnowed the two of you onto the single throne on the dais, Feyre’s throne absent since it was only Azriel presiding over the court today. Rhysand had even give Azriel permission to sit on the throne. You had been positioned on top of Azriel’s strong thighs, the thin fabric of your dress allowing you to feel his heat even through his thick Illyrian leathers.

Kier stood in front of the throne, along with about fifty other people. The room was dark, only a few strategically-placed fae lights provided light. This, however, suited Azriel because his shadows could run rampant.

“Welcome to the Hewn City, General.” Kier said in a pleasant tone that undoubtedly was laced with venom underneath. Nobody here wanted to bow to the beautiful male she perched on top of. They disregarded the Illyrian heritage that made him so powerful. So awe-inspiring.

Azriel gave Kier a bored look as if to say get on with it. Kier flicked his glance to you and paused. Azriel’s arm moved around your waist and stopped so that his fingers grazed your hip.

“Who, if I may ask, is this?” Kier asked. You swallowed some fear. Mor’s father had taken an interest in you — not a good sign. You stilled and became stiff against Azriel. His other hand snaked around to rest on top of your thigh. A mark of ownership clear to Kier and the rest of the court.

“She isn’t anyone special. Just a new one to grace my arm today.” Azriel said with cold steel in his voice. You knew Azriel’s words were lies for the court, but it still stung to be called a nobody. The others looked like they believed Azriel, but Kier didn’t. He silently noted how Azriel’s hand had moved to your thigh, almost like a warning.

You knew that Kier wasn’t fooled by your pathetic act and could tell something else was going on here. You cursed inside your head — you desperately needed to do something. You used your power to push a little at the dark sleek walls of Azriel’s mental defenses. He noted your presence and let you in.

“Kier isn’t buying the act.” You said inside his head. “We need to be more convincing.”

You pulled out of Azriel’s mind as his hand, the one on your waist, moved to the neckline of your gown. He began to toy with it, the only indication that he had understood your words.

You could feel Azriel’s callused fingers through the flimsy fabric of your dress. His hand moved over your right breast, and you sucked in a breath as his fingers grazed over your chest.

“You’re doing great, Y/n.” Azriel whispered in your ear. The hand on your thigh inched closer and closer to your core, and you felt yourself flush with embarrassment. You were frozen in place, watching Kier, who’s expression slackened as he undoubtedly scented your very real arousal, and along with it, banished any doubts about you being a threat.

Inwardly, you were mortified, but you didn’t let it show. Azriel’s fingers finally reached your inner thigh, where they played with the fabric of your dress.

“So, Kier, how goes the operations down here?” Azriel asked in his deadly voice. You didn’t hear Kier’s response because Azriel’s hand had suddenly began to rub circles through your dress. You couldn’t concentrate on anything and you felt Azriel stiffen behind you.

You went back into Azriel’s mind. “Everyone is good. Nobody’s plotting anything.” You said. Azriel gave a slight nod.

“Kier, you may go. I’m done with you for today.” Azriel said, dismissing him from the throne room. The hall bustled with activity as other members of the Hewn City moved around. You felt Azriel’s lips on your ear before he began to speak, his fingers once again teasing you through your dress.

“Y/n, I can barely concentrate on everyone’s words. Your scent is overpowering and it’s getting difficult to fight my own instincts. I should fly you back to the House of Wind.” He stated in a husky voice.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll stay with you. Don’t fight it, Azriel.” You said.

“I won’t be able to control myself, Y/n.” He replied. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered as Azriel said that. You already had your answer though. In response to him, you moved one of your hands on top of Azriel’s, the one playing with the neckline of your dress. You closed your fingers over his hand and gently moved it to your heart, which was beating furiously in your chest.

You felt the world darken around you as shadows enclosed yours and Azriel’s bodies. The world spun for a few seconds, but it mercifully stopped as you arrived in the House of Wind. Azriel’s winnowing sometimes made you dizzy.

You were so close to Azriel that your chests were almost touching. Your gaze moved from his eyes to his lips and you could palpably feel the room go warmer. Instinctively, you knew that Azriel’s own eyes had moved down to your lips too. It would be so easy to lean forward an inch and press your mouth against his.

You closed your eyes as the tension between you two simmered and waited for the searing kiss Azriel would place on your lips. But you were left with a gust of brisk, cool air instead. You opened your eyes, but only to see that Azriel had turned away from you and started waking. You felt the anger rise up in you as you took a step after him and grabbed his shoulder.

“You do not get to pull that stunt down there and then ignore me, Azriel.” You huffed. He didn’t even turn around.

“Was it true? Am I just some eye candy that you brought along? Do you not even care about how that made me feel?” You questioned. You saw Azriel bristle, and a part of you was satisfied that he responded.

“Of course you mean something to me, Y/n. That’s why we can’t.” He whispered.

You stepped in front of Azriel and placed your hands on your hips.

“I don’t see how refraining from kissing me shows that you care about me.” You pointed out. Azriel looked away from you, towards the floor.

“I-I’m not a good guy, Y/n. You deserve someone who’s better than I am. Someone who is just a perfect and beautiful as you are.” He said. In the corner of your eyes, you saw Azriel tuck his hands into his pockets.

You quickly reached your hands into his pockets and curled your fingers around his hand. Then, you brought out his hands.

“You know that being perfect doesn’t matter to me. Your scars are beautiful, Azriel. If you don’t believe me about that, then at least believe that they give you character.” You replied.

Azriel looked unsure, so you brought his hands to you face and gently set your lips on his palms, tracing the scar tissue with kisses.

“I think you’re handsome and beautiful and perfect— scars and all.” You whispered.

[gimme-mor]

ACOTAR THINK PIECE: ELAIN AND THE CONCEPT OF CHOICE

*DISCLAIMER*

Please take the time to read this post in its entirety and truly reflect on the message I am trying to send before commenting. My goal is to use my background in Gender and Women’s Studies to deconstruct the behaviors and comments I have seen on Tumblr and Twitter, and, more importantly, bring awareness to the ACOTAR fandom. I WILL NOT tolerate anyone who tries to twist my words and say I am attacking people and their personal shipping preferences. In fact, I AM CRITIQUING THE ARGUMENTS THEMSELVES NOT THE PEOPLE USING THE ARGUMENTS.

As someone who has been a long time lurker on all sides of the ACOTAR fandom, the growing toxicity and hostility has become more apparent to the point that civil discourse is, for the most part, entirely lost. More times than not, the cause of the communication breakdown centers around Elain and the relationships she has with those around her. Before and after the release of ACOSF, I’ve noticed that when the fandom expresses its opinions about Elain and her development as a character, whether in a romantic light or generally, the conversation wholly hinges on the concept of choice. Common examples I’ve seen include:

Elain has been stripped of her choice for a majority of her life

Elain should be able to make her own choices

The King of Hybern took away Elain’s choice to be human when he had her tossed into the Cauldron

Elain did not choose the mating bond for herself, instead it was forced upon her

Elain feels pressured to choose Lucien

Elain should have the choice to stray away from what is expected of her

Elain and Azriel being together represents a different and stronger type of love because she’s choosing to be with him

If you ship Elucien, you’re not Pro-Elain because you’re taking away Elain’s right to choose who she wants to be with and forcing her to accept the mating bond

Elain chose to accept Azriel’s advances in the bonus chapter 

When Rhysand called Azriel away after catching him and Elain together, Elain was stripped of her choice to be sexually intimate with Azriel

When Azriel and Rhysand are talking in the bonus chapter, Elain’s choices aren’t at the center of their conversation

If you suggest that Elain should leave the Night Court, you’re stripping Elain of her choice to remain with her family

If you suggest that Elain should be friends with someone else, you’re ignoring Elain’s choice to be friends with Nuala and Cerridwen

Why is the concept of choice exclusively tied to Elain and everything surrounding her character while simultaneously ignoring that other characters in the ACOTAR series have, to varying degrees, been stripped of their choices at some point in their lives? And why isn’t the concept of choice connected to these characters in the same way that it is connected to Elain? For example:

Did the High Lords strip Feyre of her choice to consent when they turned her into a High Fae?

Did Tamlin and Ianthe strip Feyre of her choice to consent when they started to control every aspect of her life in the Spring Court?

Was Vassa stripped of her choice when the other Mortal Queens sold her to Koschei, which resulted in her being cursed to turn into a firebird?

Was Feyre stripped of her choice to know the risks involved in the pregnancy?

Did the King of Hybern strip Nesta of her choice to be human when he had her tossed into the Cauldron?

Was everyone stripped of their choices under Amarantha’s rule?

Was Feyre stripped of her choice to just be a daughter and a sister when the Archeron family failed to contribute to their survival, which resulted in Feyre being the family’s sole provider?

Did Lucien’s family strip him and Jesminda of their choice to be together when they killed her because of her status as a Lesser Faerie?

Are Illyrian females stripped of their choice to consent when their wings are clipped?

Did the Hybern general strip Gwyn of her choice to consent?

Did Ianthe strip Lucien of his choice to consent? 

Did Keir strip Mor of her choice to consent to her engagement to Eris?

Universally, femininity is synonymous with weakness and women often face discrimination because the patriarchy is part of an interactive system that perpetuates women’s oppression. Since the ACOTAR universe is set up to mirror a patriarchal society, it’s clear that the imbalance of power between males and females stems from sexism. The thing that sets Elain apart from other female characters in the ACOTAR series is the fact that SJM has portrayed Elain as a traditionally feminine character based on her actions and the ways in which Elain carries herself. Compared to them, Elain is inherently held to a different standard because her femalehood takes precedence over other aspects of her character in fandom discussions. These conversations indirectly place Elain on a pedestal and hail her as the epitome of traditional femininity; and when her character is criticized in any way, it’s seen as a direct attack against women, specifically women who are traditionally feminine. Also, these conversations fall back on Elain’s femaleness when analyzing her character since it can be assumed from a reader’s perspective that Elain, despite being the middle sibling, is coddled by those around her because her ultra-feminine nature is perceived as a sort of weakness in need of protection. However, the fact that the concept of choice is used as an argument to primarily focus on Elain’s femalehood highlights the narrow lens through which Elain, as a character, is viewed. It implies that Elain’s femaleness is all her character has to offer to the series overall and insinuates that Elain’s character development is dependent on her femaleness. To suggest, through the choice argument, that ACOTAR’s patriarchal society constrains Elain’s agency and prevents her from enacting her feminist right to choose while failing to examine the patriarchal structure of the ACOTAR universe and its impact on the female characters in the series, the choice argument ultimately falls apart because it shows that it’s only used to focus on Elain’s femalehood. Furthermore, the implication that Elain’s right to choose is, in itself, a feminist act in the series indicates that the concept of choice as an argument is used to promote choice feminism.

Feminism is a social movement that seeks to promote equality and equity to all genders, and feminists work toward eradicating gender disparities on a macro-level, in addition to challenging gender biases on a micro-level. Historically, feminism prioritized the voices of white women, specifically white women who were cisgender, able-bodied, affluent, educated, and heterosexual. But over the decades, the inclusion of women of color and other marginalized women’s voices has broadened the scope of feminism and caused it to take an intersectional approach when discussing social identities and the ways in which these identities result in overlapping systems of oppression and discrimination. On the other hand, choice feminism, a form of feminism, greatly differs from what feminism is aiming to accomplish. In the article “It’s Time to Move Past Choice Feminism”, Bhat states:

“Choice feminism can be understood as the idea that any action or decision that a woman takes inherently becomes a feminist act. Essentially, the decision becomes a feminist one because a woman chose it for herself. What could this look like? It could really be anything. Wearing makeup is a feminist act. Not wearing it is also a feminist act. Shaving or not shaving. Watching one TV show over another. Choosing a certain job over another. Listening to one artist over another. Picking a STEM career. Choosing to dress modestly or not. The list goes on. At first glance, there does not seem to be an apparent negative consequence of choice feminism. A woman’s power is within her choices, and those choices can line up with a feminist ideology. For example, a woman’s decision not to shave may be her response to Western beauty standards that are forced onto women. Not shaving may make her feel beautiful, comfortable, and powerful, and there is nothing wrong with that. Women making choices that make them feel good is not the issue. The issue lies in calling these decisions feminist ones. Choice feminism accompanies an amalgamation of problems‒the first being that this iteration of feminism operates on faulty assumptions about said choices. Liberal feminism neglects the different realities that exist for different women‒especially the difference between white women and women of color, transgender women and cis women, etc. Not all women have the same circumstance and access to choices, not all choices made by women are treated equally, and not all choices are inherently feminist” (https://www.34st.com/article/2021/01/feminism-choice-liberal-patriarchy-misogyny-bimbo-capitalism). 

Just as white feminism ignores intersectionality and refuses to acknowledge the discriminations experienced by women of color, choice feminism and arguments supporting choice feminism have, by default, made the concept of choice exclusionary. The individualization of choice feminism glorifies the act of a woman making an individual choice and, by extension, gives the illusion that women’s liberation from gendered oppression can be achieved by enacting their rights to make personal, professional, and political choices. Herein lies the problem with choice feminism: it (the argument of “But it’s my choice!”) stifles feminist conversations from exploring the depths and intricacies of the decision making process because it’s used as a way to shut communication down entirely, shield arguments from criticism, and condemn those who criticize choice feminism for its disconnection from a larger feminist framework. Contrary to what choice feminism advocates for, it lulls the feminist movement into complacency because women’s individual choices do nothing to alleviate gendered oppression. Choice feminism’s leniency towards choice fails to address the limitations of choice in regards to women’s intersectional identities and enables society to shift the blame of women’s oppression away from the societal and institutional structures in place to women themselves for making the wrong choices that ultimately resulted in their circumstances. Choice is not always accessible to every woman. For instance, choices made by white women are, in some way, inaccessible to women of color, in the same way that choices made by cisgender women are inaccessible to transgender women. Choice is one of the founding concepts of the feminist movement and it “became a key part of feminist language and action as an integral aspect and rallying call within the fight for reproductive rights‒the right to choose whether or not we wanted to get pregnant and to choose what we wanted for our bodies and lives” (https://www.feministcurrent.com/2011/03/11/the-trouble-with-choosing-your-choice/). When choice, in a feminist context, is framed as something that is solely about the individual as opposed to the collective, the feminist foundation on which it stands “leads to an inflated sense of accomplishment while distracting from the collective action needed to produce real change that would have a lasting effect for the majority of women” (https://www.jacobinmag.com/2017/03/i-am-not-feminist-jessa-crispin-review/). 

By linking the choice argument with choice feminist rhetoric and extreme acts of progressiveness, it plays into today’s negative understanding of a social justice warrior and normalizes fake wokeness. In its original conception, a social justice warrior was another way to refer to an activist and had a positive connotation; nowadays, the term carries a negative connotation and is:

“. . . a pejorative term for an individual who repeatedly and vehemently engages in arguments on social justice on the Internet, often in a shallow or not well-thought-out way, for the purpose of raising their own personal reputation. A social justice warrior, or SJW, does not necessarily strongly believe all that they say, or even care about the groups they are fighting on behalf of. They typically repeat points from whoever is the most popular blogger or commenter of the moment, hoping that they will ‘get SJ points’ and become popular in return. They are very sure to adopt stances that are ‘correct’ in their social circle” (https://fee.org/articles/how-the-term-social-justice-warrior-became-an-insult/). 

Today’s perception of the term social justice warrior is directly tied to fake wokeness because both are performative in nature, fueled by the drive to be seen as progressive, and derail necessary conversations from taking place by prioritizing toxicity. According to the article titled, “Three signs of fake ‘wokeness’ and why they hurt activism”, it states:

“. . . social media did not create activism: it did, however, create a legion of hashtags and accounts dedicated to issues . . . Sadly, fake woke people will use these hashtags or create these accounts, see that as contributing to a cause, and just call it a day; these same people tend to shame those without the same level of interest or devotion to a given cause . . . Ironically, as open-minded as the fake woke claim to be, they struggle to deal with opposition. More often than not, those who fit the fake woke bill will ignore, misconstrue, or shutdown anything remotely opposing their stances . . . Now yes, human nature often leads us to possess a bias against that which contradicts our views, but human nature should not serve as an excuse for irrational behavior. Opposition to our stances on issues helps activists more than it harms: it allows them to look at the causes they champion from a perspective they possibly ignored before, further enlightening them. More importantly, by discovering information that may refute what they believe, they can find and eliminate any flaws in their reasoning and strengthen their arguments. Activism involves opening up to change, something one stuck in an echo chamber can never achieve” (https://nchschant.com/16684/opinions/three-signs-of-fake-wokeness-and-why-they-hurt-activism/). 

Rather than critiquing ideas, thoughts, and theories about Elain and her character development with textual evidence, the concept of choice as an argument is used to silence opposing viewpoints. This is similar to choice feminism because the conversations start and end with the concept of choice, leaving no room for a critical analysis of Elain’s character. Although the concept of choice as an argument is intended to shed light on how ACOTAR’s patriarchal structure limits females’ agency to some degree, the fact that it’s only applied to Elain invalidates the point of the argument because it doesn’t include the experiences of other female characters when examining the impact of sexism in the ACOTAR universe. The failure to do so calls the intent of the choice argument into question. As it stands, the concept of choice as an argument frames Elucien shippers and those who are critical of Elain as woman haters, misogynists, and anti-feminists, especially if they identify as women. The belief that a woman is anti-feminist or a woman hater any time she dislikes another woman suggests that women have to be held to a different emotional standard than men. If men are able to dislike other individual men without their characters being compromised, why can’t women? Feminism and what it means to be a feminist do not require women to like every woman they encounter. One of the many things feminism hopes to accomplish is granting women the same emotional privileges afforded to men. 

Terms like “oppression”, “the right to choose”, “feminist”, “feminism”, “anti-feminist”, “anti-feminism”, “internalized misogyny”, “misogyny”, “misogynist”, “sexist”, “sexism”, “racist”, “racism”, “classist”, “classism”, “discrimination”, and “patriarchy” are all used in specific ways to draw attention to the plight of marginalized people and challenge those who deny the existence of systems of oppression. Yet these words and their meanings can be twisted to attack, exclude, and invalidate people with differing opinions on any given topic. When social justice and feminist terms are thrown around antagonistically and carelessly to push a personal agenda, it becomes clear that these terms are being used to engage in disingenuous discourse and pursue personal validation rather than being used out of any deep-seated conviction to dismantle systemic oppression. The personal weaponization of social justice and feminist concepts is a gateway for people who oppose these movements to strip these terms of their credibility in order to delegitimize the societal and institutional impacts on marginalized people.

It’s important to question how an argument is framed and why it’s framed the way that it is to critically examine the intent behind that argument: is it used as a tool to push a personal agenda that reinforces dismissive, condescending, and problematic behaviors, or is it used as an opportunity to share, learn, enlighten, and educate? The concept of choice as an argument is extremely problematic because: it limits fruitful discussions about Elain within the fandom; enables arguments that oppose opinions about Elain and her narrative development to masquerade as progressive by pushing social justice and feminist language to their extremes; normalizes the vilification and condemnation of individuals who are either critical of a ship, Elain as a character, or prefer her with Lucien; encourages an in-group and out-group mentality with differing opinions about Elain’s development resulting in politically charged insults; exploits social justice and feminist terms; ignores that harm done on a micro-level is just as damaging as harm done on a macro-level; and cheapens Elain’s character and her development.

There is more to Elain than her being a female who is traditionally feminine. Elain has the potential to be as complex of a character as Feyre, Nesta, Rhysand, Lucien, Cassian, Azriel, Amren, and Mor, and to reduce her character to her femalehood in fandom discussions is a disservice to Elain as a character, the ACOTAR fandom, and SJM’s writing. So I ask this: is there a reason why the fandom heavily emphasizes the concept of choice when discussing Elain that goes beyond a simplistic analysis of her as a character (i.e. using the concept of choice as an argument to reinforce Elain’s femaleness), or is the concept of choice used as a shield to prop up one ship over another?

gimme-mor library

[captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship]

I'm hoping that Gwynriel aren't friends for now. Even after acosf.

Hear me out! (I've told @the-bookish-valkyrie that too) The reason why I don't want them to be friends already is because I want to see that happening on page from their POV. I prefer couples that aren't already romantically involved. I would've also been content with Azriel being cold to Gwyn because it makes me curious as to how their relationship will develope and I want to see how he goes from cold to warmth. I want to see how they get to the point of friendship and then love. I want to see how they get to the point of sexual attraction, why do they have this interest? Why do they care about each other? How did it start and how does it end? I want to see it all, A to Z, from only Azriel's and Gwyn's POV, ON PAGE. That's one of the big reasons why I'm more interested in Gwynriel and Elucien than El/riel and Vas/sien. Especially Elucien because they aren't on great terms right now and I'm excited to see how that'll play out and who will break first.

We don't know how Azriel got this sudden interest in Elain in the first place. I mean.. well, we do know now and it's because she's the third archeron sister that could give him an HEA. Before Acosf, I just kept asking myself how and why Azriel likes her and why Elain likes him. On my reread, I noticed that when Lucien was more around did Azriel start to have an interest in her. Remember when Azriel won the stick game to Cassian because they both rather wanted to go outside then be Elain's babysitter? Half of their love story happened off page and the other half was from Feyre's POV. Now, there's sexual attraction and... oh come on- where tf did that come from? El/riels are claiming they're already in love. So, Elain and her LI are already interested in each other, she has already found her chosen people (Nuala & Cerridwen), the night court and the IC are her home and she's healing there... so why exactly would we need her book then? Is the mating bond the only problem she has? She will reject it and Lucien would be like "aight, bye". Problem solved.

I'm aware that Gwynriel and Elucien aren't anywhere near the romantic phase right now and thank god for that. I'm also glad that Azriel told us that he wouldn't consider her a friend because I agree, it's too early for that. The bonus chapter and the few scenes in acosf only showed as that there is something between them that will bloom later. Same with Elucien.

And I want Azriel to be an oblivious idiot anyway so...

Sry for the long text

Wow you have really put a lot of thought in this! Honestly I love this. The only thing I worry about is that they will only get one book for their story. I would personally love two books for them, as I think that would be a much better pacing. What I am hoping to see is CC3 as a prequel to ACOTAR 6. I want to see them interact more, get more page time together. Start building a friendship or kinship.

- CC2 spoilers ahead-

I am a firm believer that gwyn will be key to helping Bryce get home, especially since she has interacted with Aidas in the library already. She has also helped with research on the multiple worlds theories, and I have this strong feeling that she speaks the old fae language, or at least knows some from all the hymns they sing at minimum. I think that CC3 will really set up gwyn to get into intelligence, which is Az’s specialty. I want to see them studying/researching in the library together, spar together, etc. We already know they do private dagger sessions so we can’t get the start of those, but I would love to see them meet on the roof of the HoW by accident in the middle of the night and just stargaze and talk.

[kingandfireheart]

What is it that you want, Elain?

Summary: This story is about Elain and Azriel talking about the events of the bonus scene and Elain processing her progress in the Night Court. There isn't much resolution, but it was fun to get into Elain's head for a little.

Words: 2,500ish

My money would be on you happens before this - if you're interested in seeing Azriel processing.

Elain walked on to the verdana of the House of Wind. Nesta and Cassian had insisted on hosting their weekly “family dinner” after returning from their honeymoon. She enjoyed the dinner and conversation, relaxed to see her sisters together and safe. For a long time, Elain had mourned her loss of home, her humanness, but in the last year, she had begun to embrace the fact that her sisters were happy.

Feyre had found her place in the Night Court before Elain had even become High Fae. She had Rhysand, she had Mor’s friendship, and she had her role as High Lady. Nesta took considerably longer to warm up to their new home, but she too had a place - she had friends now - the Illyrian female, and one of the priestesses, a role in the court as a Valkyrie and emissary, and love with Cassian. Elain felt a small pang of envy for what her sisters had. She had befriended Nuala and Cerrdiwen, she passed her time gardening throughout Velaris, and she enjoyed being with the odd family that was the Night Court’s inner circle. Still, Elain felt that something was missing, which had brought her onto the verdana, away from the loud conversations in the family room.

She always loved this view of Velaris. So far up from the city, she felt like her problems may just disappear. Elain also enjoyed the cool breeze of a spring night - she hadn’t brought a coat after spending the day in the sun, but the way the wind bit into her was freeing and calming. She sat down on a bench that Nesta must have added recently, and as if the house had anticipated her needs, a cup of tea had appeared next to her. “Thank you,” she said to the House. Nesta had explained that the house is somewhat responsive to commands, and she didn't want to be rude.

When she had excused herself from the dining room, dinner had devolved into discussing the Autumn Court. Cassian had said “Compared to Eris, Lucien is a saint, loveable even.” Adding, “If you’re into courtiers with a stick up their ass, that is” he said. Nesta had elbowed him for that, clearly knowing that Elain was trying to not look uncomfortable.

Feyre was retelling stories about the Spring Court, which strongly featured her mate who wasn’t her mate, Lucien. Elain had slipped out of the room when Feyre started telling the story about how Tamlin had pushed him into a reflecting pool after Lucien had convinced her to eat some berries that caused hallucinations. She'd heard Lucien and Feyre laughing about it one too many times in the year she had spent in Velaris.

Elain heard steps approaching her, bringing her back to the present. Deliberate steps, since everyone had mastered moving silently, without detection. A deep breath in revealed it was Azriel. Night chilled mist and cedar. That too was deliberate - so as not to startle her of his approach. She turned to find Azriel, predictably clad in his leathers with some shadows swirling around him.

While most family dinners were casual in the state of dress, she rarely saw Azriel or Cassian in anything but their leathers. All three of the brothers had a preference for wearing black at all times - and she couldn’t really fault them. While black seemed to drown out Elain’s features, the Illyrians looked exquisite in black, it brought our their coloring, their ridiculously beautiful features, and their hazel (and in Rhys case, violet) eyes.

That being said, she couldn’t remember the last time she saw any of them wearing a different color, aside from Cassian and Azirel’s siphons. Crimson and Cobalt respectively. She had seen a painting in Feyre’s studio of Azriel’s cobalt siphons against his scarred hands. She always thought they were beautiful, told him as much when she first arrived in Velaris. When she was human, she thought they were ornamental - like jewelry, but then she saw them in use. Azriel had explained that they were ways to channel their otherwise lethal power. That Cobalt power had saved her life from kidnapping, had shielded her from the wind while flying, and patched up a very injured Cassian during the war.

The cold of the wind calmed as she saw Azriel’s blue shields pop up around them. “It’s cold out here”, he stated in his midnight voice that was enough to make strangers swoon. She had seen it in action when she gone to watch Nesta, Feyre, and the priestesses train. The priestesses sighed when he had demonstrated how to shoot an Illyrian bow. Even after all of these months, the effect was not lost on her.

She hadn’t been alone with Azriel since Solstice - they had been keeping their distance for months now. There was something there - some kind of tension, or a pull, but Elain couldn’t quite explain it. She thought she understood on Solstice when he nearly kissed her, but then he pulled away, claiming it was a mistake before disappearing into the shadows. Ever since, their friendship had become polite and cordial, but never more than exchanging pleasantries.

She had learned from watching Azriel that every movement was intentional, and fluid, and graceful. He was predictable and consistent, but still she couldn’t keep herself from watching as he closed the distance between them.

“Are you alright? ”, Azriel asked.

She moved to make room for Azriel on the bench. “I just needed some fresh air to clear my head.” she explained.

“Ah. They can be a lot on a good day, much worse when Cassian breaks out the good wine.” He said, sitting as far away as he possibly could, while folding in his wings. A cup had popped between them, but this one was half full. He picked up the cup and chuckled after taking a sip. She was willing to bet that the contents of the cup was a hell of a lot stronger than her tea.

“It’s not that. I just...” She hesitated, not sure if she was willing to change their current no-depth-relationship. “I haven’t seen Nesta this happy in my whole life. I’m happy for them, It’s just strange.” She half- lied, she knew his shadows would pick up on it, as they likely picked up on the exact moment she had left the room. It was strange, watching Nesta brush Cassian’s hair out of his face, or the way that she laughed at his jokes, or leaned into his chest when they sat next to each other. It was strange to see her sister so unguarded, so comfortable in this new life.

“I could say the same for my brothers.” He said before taking a sip from the cup in his hand. Azriel was usually aloof and distant, rarely letting his emotions show. But something shifted in that cool, beautiful mask of his. “That doesn’t explain why you’re out here on a cold night. Cassian would say to leave the lonely brooding bullshit to me, Elain” He chuckled softly. She loved that sound. His laugh, her name on his lips. She felt her cheeks warm, just slightly and she looked away.

Elain took a deep breath, and an ever deeper sip of her tea. She was nervous. She was nervous about how she felt. She was nervous about letting Azriel in, after she had felt so hurt by his rejection on Solstice. Still, she said what she had been refusing to admit to herself for months now. “I know it sounds petty, but I’m a little jealous.”

“Of Cassian?” He asked incredulously. Again that mask slipped, just slightly as a shadow curled around his shoulders.

“Of their… happiness. I guess. Nesta has Cassian, and Feyre has Rhysand, and I’m just…” She stopped herself. She couldn’t say alone, even though she had probably said too much already. “I know, it’s petty.” Azriel leaned just slightly closer, but wouldn’t meet her eyes.

"I don’t think it’s petty. I understand.” He said softly. He did understand, because he had lived with Rhys and Feyre and Cassian and Nesta after they had accepted their bonds. Part of her hoped it was jealousy - that he hadn’t meant what he had said on Solstice night, that him avoiding her wasn’t personal, that the reason he hadn’t met her gaze when flying her to the House, or the fact that he could not get away fast enough the second he had set her down, meant something. Part of her hoped that he was as jealous of his brothers as she was of her sisters. How funny the six of them would be - three Illyrian warriors, and three Made high fae.

“But, you do have a mate.” he added tightly, as if he was forcing the words out. His wings flared just slightly. A sign of unchecked emotion, if her year of observation was right. She just couldn’t decipher which emotion. Azriel's demeanor was a puzzle she hadn't quite figured out, but she did love trying. Azriel had never mentioned Lucien outside of his role in the courts, he had never pushed her to talk about the bond, had never insinuated she was Lucien's in any way.

She couldn’t stop herself. “That’s not - I don’t want that.” Leaving the rest unsaid, I don’t want Lucien. It was instinct now, to fight the bond. She hadn’t outright rejected it because of the look on Feyre’s face whenever Lucien was in the room, hope. The fact that the mating bond had chosen so well for her sisters.

She could feel Azriel’s gaze on her, could feel his wings, just inches from her shoulder. She knew he wouldn’t touch her - knew that Illyrian wings were sacred and intimate, and that even an intentional brush would mean much more than holding hands, or even a kiss on the cheek. Still, she leaned a little closer to him.

“What is it that you want, Elain?” Her heart jumped at that tone, the softness there, the mention of her name. He set down his now empty cup, and looked at her. The shadows had deepened around him, swirling off of his legs and by her skirts. She looked out onto the view of the city to keep herself from saying the first thing that came to mind: You. She took a breath and made herself look into his hazel eyes - the emeralds standing out in the moonlight.

“Love.” she said quietly enough that he may not have heard her if he hadn’t shielded out the wind. He kept looking at her with that intent but soft gaze she had rarely seen before and had come to savor. Her throat bobbed, but she forced out the words, "I want to be able to choose love." As soon as she said it, she expected him to slip into the shadows, or jump of the verdana. It had happened before - Azriel had a habit of slipping away when things got uncomfortable, but he stayed there, staring at her after she had made such a big confession.

Dangerous. This was dangerous, she reminded herself. Still, she couldn't help but embrace a little bit of danger. “What do you want, Azriel?” She heard herself say. It felt odd to say his name. Not Az, or shadowsinger, as the Amren often called him. There was weight in these words - Azriel was the most aloof member of the Inner Circle, and the least likely to open up, but since he hadn't slipped away just yet...

Azriel tensed only slightly. If she hadn't made a habit of watching him so closely, she wouldn't have noticed. A shadow curled around his ear, as if whispering something. She watched him, knowing full well Azriel was capable of not answering, or holding out for much longer than she was.

“The same thing as you.” He finally confessed, or at least it sounded like a confession - like something else was in those words - longing, pain, desire, guilt?

They stared at each other a long moment - it may have been the first time Azriel’s eye’s were completely unguarded. What she saw there - she wasn’t ready for, it was dangerous, and reckless, and tens kinds of stupid to act on. She did have a mate, who was a perfectly fine male - and they had implicitly decided to take time before dealing with whatever the bond meant. Elain straightened her back, trying to put some distance between them, without closing off this conversation, this connection.

Where did you run off too, Feyre said in her head. I’m sorry I brought up Lucien. Azriel seemed to shift too, as if he too was having a mental conversation with one of the daemati.

Coming she said in her head.

"We should head back in.” She said. They both stood, and Azriel’s icy mask returnEd as if he had just remarked on the weather.

“Thank you.” Elain said, allowing her hand to brush against his, just slightly. “For checking in on me. For being my friend.” She wanted the last word here. She needed to define what this was in un-dangerous terms, to keep him from avoiding her next time, from reading into her why she had pulled away, and to keep herself from kissing his cheek, from wanting more than she ever had a right to ask of him.

He gave her a polite but bland smile that did not reach his eyes. “Don't thank me. That’s what friends are for, right?” He raised his hand as if to cup her cheek, but seemed to reconsider, driving his hands into his pockets.

He dropped his shield of blue and walked back toward the house, as silent and graceful as ever. She was stunned, completely stunned. Azriel had always had that effect on her - taking away her capacity for speech and rational thought.

She gathered the tea cups, using the excuse to take a minute to collect herself before returning to the family room. She sniffed at Azriel’s cup - it most certainly wasn’t tea. Laughing to herself, she walked back into the family room, settling on a sofa between Mor and Rhys . Azriel had already joined Nesta and Feyre on the sofa across from them, holding Nyx as he stretched his tiny wings. Elain's heart fluttered at the sight.

Rhys’s gaze seemed to dart between her and Azriel, but before he could say anything, Mor looked at her, with a conspirators smile. “Next time you want to escape the couples, take me with you instead. I’m way more fun! ” Elain just laughed, nudging Mor with her shoulder.

Azriel chuckled softly from his corner and gave her another smile. This time, Elain returned one of her own.