#Sarah J Maas

[bindinglove]

the fact that the previous reblog was also tamlin and rhysand tags !!!

starting a collection

[solgasart]

I liked Lucien almost immediately, in the first book.

He is a very lively and bright character. Against the closed and slightly gloomy Tamlin, Lucien immediately stood out and aroused sympathy. I don’t know how his character will develop, but while I’m reading books, I have never been disappointed in him. I’ll show his mask a little later. For now, let’s look at his beautiful face with a sly smile, the son of the Autumn Court. And the mechanical eye doesn’t spoil it at all, do you agree?

[leiaorrganna]

it’s their thing

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Journals (part 2)

Part 1

Summary: new realisations and hauntingly beautiful words

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 2059

Warnings: heavyyyy angst, mental health issues, depression, feeling unworthy of love, panic attack, self harm (alluded to), self hate. thats all i can think of right now, but let me know if i need to add anything

A/n: based on old poetry by @garden-of-runar 🤭i had reblogged them to my drafts on a side blog that i dont use at all, so i couldnt reblog them on my main, but i have put them in the fic, so ig that works🤷🏻‍♀️ also, if i ever write a part 3 (which i might based on feedback) azzie would be the love interest <3

ALSO MY GIRLIE IS SO TALENTED DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED I LOVE THESE POEMS 🥹

(im also tagging people who asked for a part two hope u dont mind <3)

anyways, enjoyyyy!!

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Lying on the ground, despite how it hurt her joints sometimes, was one of Y/n’s favourite pastimes. Maybe because sometimes she did not have the energy to crawl into her bed, but that was not the point.

They hate you.

The hardness of the wood panels was oddly comforting, the way the grains sometimes raised enough for her to feel them with her fingers, the soft creaking when she stepped on them. It reminded her that she was here, that she was alive. That she was getting what she deserved for being so pathetic.

The soft mattress did not give her the same level of comfort. Sure, it was warm and cozy, but did she deserve it?

No.

You deserve this.

You deserve the worst.

Y/n sniffled, lying on her side as she lifted her hand higher next to her, dragging her nails down the planks, the feeling overwhelming in itself but better than not feeling anything. She watched her fingers jerk with the motion, pale and bloodless.

She could feel her tears collecting in a pool and seeping under her cheek. She glanced at the foot of the bed in front of her.

It looks so majestic from down here.

Do people who are worse off think the same way about me?

I don’t want them to. Because I am not worth being thought of like that.

I am nothing. I am pathetic.

It became harder and harder to take in a breath from her nose, as it continued to grow clogged from all her sobbing.

It was one of her least favourite things about crying.

Pathetic.

Stop it!

You’re pathetic. Crying over nothing.

You don’t deserve anything good.

The thoughts kept echoing in her head, louder and louder. She couldn’t breathe any longer.

And it was not because of anything physical.

Her chest began to constrict, forcing her lungs to let out precious air. She tried to breathe it back in, desperately wishing to cling to any remnants of oxygen like a child clinging to its mothers skirts.

Please. Just one inhale.

Her throat tightened.

Just one.

She gasped, futilely trying to breathe one last time to breathe before she knew she would collapse, faint because of the lack of air in her body. It gave her some reprieve, and her eyes focused back to the bed.

The longer she stared at it, the more drowsy she became. Her eyelids were drooping, and she finally, finally decided that maybe letting herself submit to her body’s needs wouldn’t be too bad, if it meant that the thoughts would stop. Maybe if she gave in to the tiredness in her bones after hours of sobbing, her mind would stop being so cruel.

Maybe it would take pity on her.

Maybe.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"We should go out tomorrow!"

Y/n smiled a little. A rare smile that only recently had begun showing on her face.

It wouldn’t be considered a real smile. But it was still there on her face. The tilt of her lips.

We. Not me. We.

They wanted her to be present too.

Cassian jumped up, looking at Y/n with a grin. "I always wanted to take Y/n out to Rita’s."

Her smile grew.

The other members talked, making plans for tomorrow. Slowly, the conversation spiralled, as it always did between them all.

Azriel leaned close to Y/n, whispering jokes in her ear that made her giggle. Rhysand sat on the same couch as Cassian, fighting like children. Mor sat next to Amren, amusement shining in her eyes as she added fuel to the fire, while Amren looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

They talked well into the night, politics, food, court gossip bleeding into one another as the time trickled by.

But the moment the conversations wandered into their future, Y/n’s smile faded. She wondered, would they want her to stay in their life?

She didn’t have to wonder long, as the words they uttered were enough to give her peace.

They talked of vacations, of parties and new traditions. Of getting married, of being with their partners. Of celebrating lives and years and months, of celebrating ends and new beginnings.

They talked, and included her.

They talked in ‘we’s’. Not in ‘me’s’.

And that was enough for her little heart to be happy.

For it to heal, for the blood to return to her face.

For her to smile, free and unbidden.

But then, time passed. And just like the sand in an hourglass trickles away, so do all good things.

As she watched, the scene changed from only housing six people in the living room, to adding three more members. And slowly, she was pushed out.

And they began talking in ‘me’s’.

Some ‘we’s’, but it never meant Y/n.

No, it meant them. Them and their partners.

It meant Feyre and Rhysand. Their new lives and baby.

It meant Cassian and Nesta. Their new mating bond and blooming love.

It meant Azriel and Elain. Their growing infatuation.

Y/n doubted the infatuation had ended, as Azriel no longer sat next to Elain at dinners. Lucien’s visits to Velaris had increased too.

But everyone’s visits to Y/n and their thoughts about her had decreased. No one seemed to remember her existence.

And she deserved it.

They chatted among themselves, and the armchair she sat on vanished from under her, leaving her standing knee deep in the freezing snow. Watching from the outside as the warm interior that had seemed so welcoming just a moment ago turned into a nightmare.

Her worst nightmare.

It left her whimpering, leaving her to curl on the cold ground.

All alone, just like she deserved.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

It was almost sunset, and finally, Rhysand had built up the determination to read the damned journal.

He walked downstairs, peering into the living room before stepping in front of it.

Mor had departed after Y/n had left, tears in her eyes. Azriel and Cassian had been sitting in the living room for the whole two hours since then, staring into space, looking haunted and horrified at the way they hadn’t realised what was going on with their friend. Amren too, sat in an armchair in the corner, looking as unbothered as ever. But Rhys saw the cracks. The shifting eyes, the too hard hold on the book she held in her lap, the downward tilt of her lips more pronounced.

"I think it’s time we read the journal."

Four sets of eyes shot up to his figure.

"Are you sure, Rhys?" Cassian mumbled, standing up uncertainly.

Rhys nodded. "It is the only option we have."

Azriel sighed, mirroring Cassian’s movements and moving closer to Rhysand.

Feyre perked up. "What is going on Rhys?"

He clenched his jaw, guilt and regret festering in his gut. He had been so busy in his newfound happiness, so wound up in enjoying every moment with his mate that he had forgotten family. He had forgotten her to the extent his mate didn’t even know what the slight tang of copper in the air meant.

"Nothing, Feyre." He mumbled, turning away.

"Elain was asking-"

"Tell her to stop asking, then." Rhysand froze at the coldness in Azriel’s voice, his eyes going wide. Azriel never used that tone of voice with anyone outside of work, let alone Feyre.

Feyre stepped back, her calves hitting the couch as she stared at her friend in shock. "Az?"

Azriel pushed past Rhysand, making his way towards his study where the journal sat, looking as frustrated and unapologetic as ever.

After a shared glance, Rhysand and Cassian followed, Amren hot on their heels.

Azriel was already seated in one of the chairs at Rhysand’s mahogany desk, his eyes fixed on the journal that lay in the middle, his jaw clenched. He seemed to be the most affected, and Rhys only had the faintest idea why.

The four of them sat in waiting until Mor finally arrived, shutting the door behind her. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she sniffled lightly as she came to stand next to Cassian.

"Rhys, do we really have to read it? It will be an invasion of privacy."

Rhys swallowed. Thought it over. "We don’t really have a choice, do we? We need to figure out the root of this. She won’t tell us if we ask, we know that. Plus, she might already be way down the path of another breakdown after what happened today."

"That is why I think that instead of sitting around on our arses," Azriel ground out, "we should go and check up on her."

Rhys raised a brow, though concern festered in his gut. "Azriel, we’ve been through this before. She will feel worse about herself, thinking she inconvenienced us."

A muscle feathered in Azriel’s jaw, but he said nothing.

And so they began reading.

Rhysand opened a random page, his breath catching at the sudden tang of copper, and began reading. As he stared at the words before speaking them aloud, he remembered seeing the exact poem in a book he recommended to Y/n over fifty years ago.

Forgotten.That is my nameThat is the path I walkIt has been so longI don’t remember what it is like to be seenAnd I spill, my tears lining the path to the woods where my body lies,Forgotten.- from GardenofRunar

Instantly, Rhysand’s blood ran cold. He leaned back, exhaling. The pages were decorated in flowers and hearts, tiny little clouds and doodles in the margins so at odds with the thoughts spilled onto them like a hauntingly beautiful scenery.

At this point, Cassian and the others had moved to peer over Rhys’s shoulder. Rhys watched as Cassan reached over to turn the page with a shaky hand, pulling it back almost instantly as if the page had burned him. There, just above the words was a small handful of doodles, and he knew the small figures resembled the inner circle before Rhys had been taken under the mountain.

The poem was more a letter than anything, except it contained so few letters but thy hit everyone with a guilt so hard it was almost like a mountain fell onto them.

So like Y/n, to say so less yet still make an impact.

I didn’t forget about you.Can you say the same for me?Don’t bother.I know the answer.-GardenOfRunar

Under the poem, were a few words.

The poet is so talented. Every poem of them I read, it makes me want to sob.Maybe because I relate to these. Maybe that’s why.

Quiet sniffles came from Mor, but Rhys turned another page. It was the first page where blood began dotting the corners, a few drops on the center of the page veining out towards the edges, as if trying to exit but being unable to.

The almost poeticness of the sight was not lost on them. The blood droplets were almost like Y/n, trying to escape a cruel mind but unable to.

My friends are living lives, and I’m trudging through a million little days,Wasting away.- GardenofRunar

A hand snaked towards the book, slamming it shut. Rhysand jumped, his eyes flying to the owner of the scarred hand that appeared.

"Enough." His voice was still, quiet, but so cold it could freeze even the summer court over. And Rhysand knew. He was blaming himself for not paying attention to Y/n.

Rhys nodded, feeling guiltier by the second.

Everyone went back to their places, sitting in silence. Contemplating.

Wondering how they had become so oblivious to the point that they couldn’t see what was right in front of them the entire time.

The regret, the sadness was heavy in the air. It was getting hard to breathe it in.

Finally, Azriel stood, grabbing the book.

Then he turned, and walked out the door without a word, his wings pulled tight against his back.

And Rhysand wondered again.

Was this just some friendly concern, some self blame, or something else entirely?

Needless to say, suspicion took root. But guilt and hate overwhelmed it once more, and the family was left to sit and roil in it.

To wonder, how could they have been so busy that they ignored such an important part of them?

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

(ps. the first part in the memories/dreams Y/n has is based off this poem

You talk in ‘we’s’ Not ‘me’s’ And it heals my heart, just a little. Puts a smile on my face, just a little. You talk about a future One with me in it And I feel the color Return to my face. Just a little. - Runar

)

@velarisnightsky444 @fasoaurore @anainkandpaper @urfunnyvalentin3 @gabbiskylar01

Permanent Taglist: @berryzxx @sarawritestories @milswrites @throneofsmut

@daycourtofficial @sweetorangeblossom @serenescureforboredom @cassie6392 @harrystylesfan2686

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Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @azrielsmate3 @celestialend

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[beaofterresan]

I do not understand why ACOTAR gets all the hype.

its good but not TOG good.

Throne of Glass is the most underrated SJM series. It’s so much better than the other ones in so many ways and I WILL die on this hill

[mellowmusings]

coffee for your head | part 3

part 2

Azriel x reader A/N- highkey dead rn, wanna kms :) let me know if you wanna be tagged. my dumbass confused it with blessed mistakes first lmao Summary-After loosing his mate Azriel falls into severe depression barely living and eating at all, his entire life had fallen apart and even after a century of grieving he still couldn't pull himself up to the surface, but in his hole of self pity a ladder reaches down to him.

part 3- The healing The nights were still hard. Shadows curled restlessly around Azriel, whispering fragments of his past and pulling him toward the memories he couldn’t escape. He didn’t sleep much, haunted by dreams that left him cold and aching. But lately, there was something—someone—that offered a reprieve from the endless cycle of guilt and grief.

You.

It wasn’t as though you had come into his life and magically made everything better. The ache of losing his mate didn’t vanish overnight, nor did the guilt of allowing himself to feel something new. But your presence was steady, warm, and—most importantly—patient.

That patience was what terrified him the most.

Azriel noticed the little things first. The way you brewed his tea just how he liked it, even though he’d never told you. The way you left space for him at the dinner table but didn’t press when he chose to sit alone. The way you laughed—soft and sincere, as if the world hadn’t left its scars on you the way it had on him.

He didn’t know how to handle it.

The first time you sat beside him in the garden, saying nothing but letting your presence fill the silence, he found himself gripping his hands tightly in his lap. The urge to speak warred with the urge to push you away, to tell you that you deserved someone less broken.

But you didn’t ask him to speak. You just stayed. And something inside him cracked.

The journey wasn’t smooth. Healing rarely was.

There were moments when Azriel felt like he was suffocating, the weight of the past pressing down on his chest. He’d wake in a cold sweat, his shadows coiled tightly around him, and he’d remember her—his mate. Her laughter, her voice, the way she’d looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world.

And then he’d think of you. The way you smiled at him, the way your eyes softened when you looked his way. It was different, softer.

It wasn’t wrong, was it? To find comfort in someone else?

But comfort didn’t always come easily.

One evening, you had invited him to join you for a walk along the Sidra. It wasn’t unusual—walking had become one of the few ways Azriel could clear his mind. But that day, he was restless, his shadows unusually loud, their whispers biting at the edges of his thoughts.

“Come with me,” you said, your tone light, though he could see the concern in your eyes.

“I’m fine,” he replied curtly, his voice sharper than he intended.

You blinked, clearly taken aback, but you didn’t back down. “Azriel, you’ve been sitting in this room all day. A walk might help—”

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped, the words cold and biting.

The silence that followed was unbearable. You stood there, your expression carefully blank, though he could see the hurt flicker across your features before you masked it.

“Alright,” you said quietly, turning to leave.

The door closed softly behind you, and Azriel sank into his chair, his head in his hands. The guilt was immediate, suffocating. He hadn’t meant to lash out, hadn’t meant to hurt you.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He didn’t know how to let someone in without fear of losing them.

He found you later that night, sitting by the fire in the House of Wind. You didn’t look up when he approached, your focus on the flames, but you didn’t tell him to leave, either.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low.

You turned to him then, your eyes searching his face. “I’m not upset because you snapped at me, Azriel. I’m upset because you keep shutting me out.”

“I don’t mean to,” he admitted, his shadows curling around his shoulders like a shield. “I just—this isn’t easy for me. Letting someone in. Letting myself feel…” He trailed off, the words stuck in his throat.

You softened, your gaze steady. “I know it’s not easy. But I’m not asking you to do this alone. I’m here, Azriel. For as long as you’ll let me be.”

Something about the way you said it, so quietly but with such conviction, unraveled him. He sat beside you, his shoulders brushing yours, and for the first time in a long while, he let himself lean into someone else’s strength.

The fights were never explosive, but they were frequent enough to be a reminder of how much he still had to learn.

There was the time he forgot to meet you for lunch, lost in his own thoughts, and you had spent the afternoon pacing in worry.

“I thought something had happened to you,” you’d said when he finally returned, your voice tight with frustration.

“I didn’t ask you to worry,” he’d replied, defensive.

“No, you didn’t,” you said, your tone sharp. “But I do. Because I care about you, Azriel. And if that’s going to be a problem, maybe I shouldn’t—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his voice soft but firm. “Don’t say that.”

The tension hung between you like a fragile thread, but eventually, you both stepped back, your anger cooling. He apologized, and so did you, and the rift between you mended just a little.

There were also moments of quiet understanding, of small victories that felt monumental.

The first time he reached for your hand without overthinking it, you’d smiled so brightly he felt like the sun had come out just for him.

The first time he let you into his room, the space he had once considered sacred and untouchable, you had treated it with the reverence it deserved.

The first time he laughed—truly laughed—at something you said, the sound was so foreign to him that it startled both of you.

And through it all, you stayed.

It wasn’t until months later, as you sat together in the same garden where this journey had begun, that Azriel truly let himself acknowledge what he felt for you.

You were reading, your legs tucked beneath you, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow across your face. His shadows were unusually quiet, as if even they recognized the peace of the moment.

He didn’t realize he was staring until you looked up, your lips quirking in a soft smile. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said, though his voice betrayed him.

You tilted your head, studying him. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe.”

You reached for his hand, your touch grounding him. “You don’t have to say it, Azriel. Not until you’re ready.”

But he was ready.

“I love you,” he said, the words slipping out before he could second-guess them.

Your eyes widened, surprise flickering across your face before it softened into something warm and radiant. “I love you, too.”

And for the first time in over a century, Azriel felt something he hadn’t thought possible.

Hope. Beautiful radiant hope.

@anarchiii @darkbloodsly @sunnyspycat @er1023 @clementine111002 @buubblles @onebadassunicorn @donnadiddadog @ren-ni @lilah-asteria @rcarbo1 @tele86 @sillyfreakfanparty @sopheeg @secretlyhers @isa1b2h3 @inkedinshadows

[batboysanonymous]

A Line Between Us

Summary: Y/n thought she could bury her feelings for Cassian beneath years of playful banter and endless training sessions. But when a single misstep shatters their routine and forces them into a moment too intimate to ignore, the boundaries between friendship and something more begin to crack—and neither of them are ready for the fallout.

Pt. I - Pt. II

────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──

The sun had barely risen over Velaris, casting a soft golden hue across the sky, when Y/n found herself on the training grounds. The crisp morning air bit at her skin, but she relished the chill, allowing it to clear her mind. She stretched, watching her breath fog in front of her, and waited for Cassian.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the familiar sound of boots crunching on the gravel reached her ears. She turned just as Cassian strolled in, a cocky grin plastered on his face, hair disheveled in a way that made her heart skip a beat. His presence was magnetic, commanding, and as usual, it set her nerves on edge.

"You're early," Cassian remarked, voice rough with sleep yet laced with amusement. His eyes, dark and filled with mischief, scanned her with an intensity that left her breathless.

"I could say the same for you," she retorted, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest.

Cassian chuckled, the sound warming her more than the rising sun ever could. "What can I say? I couldn't leave my favorite training partner waiting."

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. Cassian had that effect on people—on her. They had been best friends for years, ever since Rhysand’s court had taken her in. Back then, she had been nothing but a broken shadow of herself, clinging to the remnants of a life she could no longer return to. Cassian had been the first to see past the cracks in her armor, the first to treat her as though she were whole. He had been her anchor in the storm, her light in the suffocating dark.

But those years had come with their price. Somewhere along the way, admiration had twisted into something far deeper, far more dangerous. She had fallen for him, and it terrified her. Cassian was unattainable, his reputation cemented in the tales of his charm and conquests. He was a man whose heart seemed perpetually just out of reach, and Y/n had convinced herself long ago that hers was not the one he would choose—if he ever chose at all.

"Ready to get your ass kicked?" she teased, grabbing her weapon from the rack nearby. The weight of the blade in her hand was familiar, grounding.

Cassian smirked, stepping closer until the space between them seemed to disappear entirely. His gaze softened, and for a fleeting moment, Y/n thought she saw something deeper in his eyes. A vulnerability. A hesitation. "You wish, sweetheart."

They squared off, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. Every movement, every swing of their blades, felt like a conversation unspoken. Y/n knew Cassian wasn’t holding back; she could see it in the way his blows came faster, harder, testing her limits. But she met him strike for strike, her body moving instinctively, driven by muscle memory and years of training.

“You’re getting faster,” Cassian admitted between grunts, blocking her strike with ease. The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Almost impressed.”

“Almost?” she panted, sweat beginning to bead at her brow. “I’ll remember that when you’re flat on your back.”

His laughter was a low rumble, a sound that seemed to wrap around her like a warm embrace. “Careful, Y/n. That almost sounded like a challenge.”

“It was.”

Their blades clashed again, the sound ringing out across the empty grounds. Y/n pushed herself harder, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of an easy victory. But she didn’t anticipate the misstep—a slick patch of dew-covered grass that sent her foot sliding out from under her.

The world seemed to slow as she stumbled, her balance tipping dangerously. Cassian’s eyes widened in alarm, and he surged forward to catch her. But the angle was wrong, their combined momentum too much. His arm hooked around her waist just as she fell, his grip tightening instinctively.

The next thing she knew, they were on the ground, her body pinned beneath his.

Her breath hitched, the weight of him stealing the air from her lungs. Cassian’s face was mere inches from hers, his dark hair falling into his eyes. She could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against hers, could see the flicker of panic fade into something else—something she didn’t dare name.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice rough, tinged with concern.

Y/n nodded, but her words caught in her throat. She was too aware of everything—his hands, his scent, the way his gaze seemed to search hers as if seeking answers she wasn’t ready to give.

Neither of them moved. The world around them fell away, leaving only the two of them tangled together in a moment that felt both eternal and fleeting.

“Cassian,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. His eyes softened, and for a heartbeat, she thought she saw him lean closer.

Then, as if remembering himself, he pulled back sharply, rising to his feet and offering her a hand. She took it, her fingers trembling as they brushed against his. But as soon as she was upright, he stepped away, putting space between them.

“Let’s call it a day,” he said, his tone brisk, detached.

Hurt flared in her chest. She clenched her fists at her sides, unwilling to let him retreat without addressing the growing chasm between them.

“Cass” she said, her voice stronger than she felt. He stopped but didn’t turn to face her. She continued, and before she could stop herself, she said: “I wish you would think of me when I wasn’t right in front of you.”

His shoulders stiffened, the words striking him like a physical blow. When he finally turned, his face was unreadable, his eyes dark and stormy. For a moment, she thought he might say something, might finally break the silence that had stretched between them for so long.

But instead, he shook his head. “Don’t do this, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. And then he was gone, leaving her alone on the training grounds with nothing but the weight of unspoken words and the ache in her chest.

Unbeknownst to her, Cassian paused just out of sight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His wings trembled, his breaths uneven as he stared at the ground. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up—this endless game of pretending she didn’t mean everything to him.

For both of their sakes, he had to try.

──────────────────────────────

[unhealthyfanobsession]

You mean to tell me that Nesta and Mor spent several days (if not weeks) rehearsing all of the dances then described in the Court of Nightmares TOGETHER and we didn’t get ANY GAY THOUGHTS FROM EITHER OF THEM????

SJM is a coward for real.

[marvvdraws]

Cousins 🤍 — Rhysand’s sister and Mor gossiping on a late night

[elrielffs]

do you think elain and azriel wasn't set up until acowar??

someone said "if az liked elain why didnt he try anything" ???? im like huh??

People have different opinions on this, even Elriels but I personally think the beginnings of Elriel were in ACOMAF.

Both Cassian and Azriel had reactions to first meeting Nesta and Elain, both had their small dinner scenes sprinkled in with each other, putting focus on each couple. That whole dinner scene was SJM saying "hey take note of this!"

I also think it showed the dynamics of the characters and couples very well. Nesta and Cassian were confrontational and argumentive, explosive just like their romance while Elain and Azriel were subtler, quiet understanding, EVEN THEN. (Azriel saw Elain was anxious and comforted her and Elain saw that Azriel was the one she could "safely" talk to.)

Why didn't Azriel try anything? Because at the time Elain was engaged and Azriel still carried his torch for Mor. The characters IN the narrative didn't instantly develop feelings for each other but they instantly reacted to each other.

It was in ACOWAR where things ramp up because Elain's engagement is broken and enough time has passed that Elain and Azriel have spent around each other for them to lose whatever lingering feelings they have for Mor and Grayson and develop deeper feelings for each other.

Idk why people expect insta love and harmony for Elriel. It's not a standard that any other couple in this series is held to. Azriel can't think sexually about Elain or he's a fuck boy (even though Rhysand and Cassian did the same), we don't know what Elain wants (even when she explicitly says or shows what she wants), Azriel didn't have a powerpoint presentation to show Rhysand after their almost kiss--ergo they aren't serious about each other.

I also think it's a fundemental misunderstanding of Azriel's character. We know he has issues with self worth, we know he's not a male to "make a move", he pined after Mor for 500 years and did nothing and it was ELAIN that made the first step to intimacy that night with the necklace. "Put it on me?"

Honestly, this take is so simplified and juvenile that you like someone=you immediately act on it no matter the circumstances when that's just not how it works in real life or definitely not in a romance book (otherwise we would only get 3 pages of they meet, they like, they boink, they fall in love, the end.)

[ratgirl2020]

I have a dumb question.

A lot of e/riels use this as proof of their ship: 3 brothers and 3 sisters painted by Mor.

After rereading, does it resemble Mors hair or Feyres?

If Feyres hair, wouldn't she have written "flowing hair that resembled mine" or "my own" since it's in first person pov?

[rizzoreads88]

✨Azriel in the Hofas bonus chapter✨

SJM:” Bryce scrolled through her music until she pulled up the folk duo that immediately leapt to mind: Josie and Laurel. Her hand shook a little with the sheer magnitude of picking which od their many songs to play, which sing to be the first ot theirs heard on this planet. Her favourites always shifted depending on her mood, her current phase of life. In the end, she went with her gut.“Stone Mother” began playing, its rolling, thumping drums offsetting the wild, yet mellow, guitars. And then Josie’s voice filled the tunnel, sharp and yet soaring, accented by Laurel’s sweet, clear backups. “

Also SJM:“And with each mile onward, she could hear Azriel humming sofily to himself. The rolling, wild melody of "Stone Mother" flowed off his lips, and she could have sworn even the shadows danced at the sound.”

Gwynr/els: elriels cannot read! They have no reading comprehension! How can they even read azriel humming to one of Bryce’s favorite song and think azriel is even humming one of Bryce’s favorite songs.. it so clear that it’s a hint about Gwynr/el……

Everyone else in the acotar fandom:

SJM please free us from this!!

[lovelyfawnxx]

baby wake up, new Rhysand art just dropped

🎨 by ignartcio

[oristian]

+ PRYTHIAN’S PRETTIEST COUPLES ,

ART CREDIT — frostbite.studios

[rainingriversofyou]

Starborn, Fireheart & Lady Death - CC, TOG & ACOTAR

Artist: renata_watsonn

[oblivionsdream]

Oh hey I get to share another commission- this one is for an ACOTAR inspired puzzle for Reverie Puzzles!