#char: Fae

[mxmorel]

was working on a char design for a little comic yesterday

[lovebugcody]

I have an idea in my head but I can't decide whether to turn it into a d&d campaign or an original novel. or i mean i could do both...

[ayrennaranaaldmeri]

Weisshaupt mission definitively proving that da is at its sexiest when it's wardens and yet here I am feeling an unbearable amount of salt because we walk through a FUCKING WARDEN LIBRARY and they could've put in a fucking NOTE about the HERO OF FUCKING FERELDEN IN THERE. SO GLAD THE FUCKING JOINING CHALICE WAS RECOVERED FROM FUCKING OSTAGAR THOUGH.

[freakinator]

ome day i'll finish my mknecraft species differentiation chart and then you'll see.... you will all see.... why i make certain design choices lol

[starsinthesworld]

”No matter whether it's summer rain and winter sun or meadows full of clover. You are simply amazing and this wedding is a fabulous idea„ ~Husband

(Occ I love games with marriage function)

[dandelion-roots]

[ID: a digital drawing of margot and christine against a gold background. margot is cradling christine's left cheek as she kisses her right; her other arm is around christine's shoulders. christine has her hands on margot's waist. both women are blushing. end id]

[basiliskfeathers]

imo good character-establishing things to have for pcs are like

- the usual why are they on this adventure, why are they w this group, etc

- what's one personality trait that drives them to do the stupid but fun thing

- what's one aspect that might make them act in ways contrary to how they do normally (including Not doing the stupid thing if it wouldn't be fun)

that last one is beneficial for the collaborative aspect of ttrpgs: if everyone else wants to do x, & as a player u wanna cooperate but ur pc would be opposed, how can u navigate that? there's still times to dig ur heels in, but often I've found more value in establishing Why or How my character can be convinced to go along w smth anyway

also just. ppl contradict themselves sometimes, & having even a simple sense of that in ur pcs can both make rp richer & assist in collaborating w the other ppl at ur table

[littlest-w01f]

Protection

Eris Vanserra x Reader

For @erisweekofficial

Eris week 2024 Masterlist

Day 1: Bonds

Summary: Eris Vanserra didn't share much with people, but the attachment he shares with you, someone who was meant to be nothing but one of his father's human slaves, is too different.

Cw: Mentions of slavery/sex slavery, Eris is touchy with his human

The new day had started quicker than you wanted, but humans were never treated well in the Autumn Court, so you stood in the kitchen, cleaning dishes and placing them in their spot by hand when the Fae could've easily used magic. But you didn't bother ranting about it to anyone, you didn't have a choice, but thankfully, none of the Vanserras had chosen you to be 'theirs', those poor humans who were chosen, lived far worse lives than you. So you quietly scrubbed away at the plates.

Eris walked into the kitchen early in the morning, his red hair wet from the bath, spotting you immediately. His eyes trailed over you, taking in your form. His expression darkened, he had always wanted to keep you as his, he felt a serge of protectiveness over you that he didn't feel for any other, even if he didn't let it show. "And why, may I ask, are you up so early?"

You paused your scrubbing, the last two weeks had been a lot on you, with the party that happened, the comments some faeries made at you and your fellow humans, and even if you knew Eris was jesting, you couldn't hold the madness that bubbled in you, you had had enough of faeries, and Eris' cheeky grin was pissing you off. "Because you sick freaks burned the maid who would've been up cause she spilt a little wine." You almost growl, remembering how one of Eris' brothers had burned her using his power.

Eris looked precisely like that brother, the middle one, the poor maid had spilt a single drop and he had charred her in front of everyone, "And don't even get me started on all the hollering you do, absolutely horrid." You set a plate down harshly before grabbing another, after every such party, you needed a few days before you could be out otherwise you always knew you would say something that would get you killed, "We're just playthings, right? Fuckers."

Eris's brows furrowed at your outburst, clearly taken aback by your sudden display of anger. He stepped closer, his amber eyes narrowing slightly as he studied your face. "Playthings?" he repeated, his voice low and measured. "Is that really how you see yourself here?"

"Playthings, toys, pets, slaves, entertainment, servants... call it anything you want, but the job description is the same." He stepped closer to you, taunting, watching as your spine straightened and you stiffened at his approach. "And I suggest you keep a better leash on your tongue, you're addressing a son of the High Lord of Autumn."

As if on instinct, you grabbed a knife from the sink, holding it to his chest. "Stay back." The knife trembled in your hand, but you still held it.

Eris's eyes widened briefly at the sight of the knife pressed against his chest, but then narrowed again as a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Well now," he drawled, not seeming particularly concerned about the blade. "Aren't you my feisty little thing?"

He took another step forward until the tip of the knife was practically touching his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. "Go ahead then, human rebel." he purred, his voice dripping with mockery. "Stab me. See what happens because you're either brave or extremely stupid."

His eyes glittered with challenge and amusement as if daring you to actually follow through on your threat. It was clear he didn't believe for a second that you would truly hurt him.

"I haven't slept in two week cause I've been waiting literally 200 year old children hand and foot, you do not wish to test me." You scoff, turning back to your work.

The fact that this simple human was standing up to him, in his own home, it set his blood aflame, even if admittedly it was rather fascinating that the flames were burning something like lust rather than anger. "Two hundred years old children who could reduce you to ash in the snap of their fingers," He reminded you, his gaze following the movement of your hands as you worked.

"Yes, you still need branded slaves to bring you food, massage your feet, be your entertainment." You rolled your eyes, and you talk to yourself but he can clearly hear, "Oh, human press my legs, massage my back, what are you staring at? Why aren't you working? Do I need to shove my cock down your throat since you think you're on some break?"

His smug smile only grew wider at your words, though there was a hint of curiosity lacing his tone. "It seems my brother's actions have left quite the lasting impression on you," he said softly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"I assure you, most of us aren't quite so barbaric," he added, leaning back against the kitchen slab casually, seemingly unfazed by your proximity and the blade you had once held dangerously close to him. "Though it's certainly amusing seeing you stand up to me."

"I'm just tired..." A sudden tear lined your eye, but you refused to let him look at you.

Seeing the lone tear track its way down your cheek, Eris frowned, momentarily losing the playful edge in his demeanour. "Tired of what exactly?" he asked quietly, tilting his head to the side as he regarded you with newfound interest.

There was genuine concern laced within his voice, despite his earlier taunts. He pushed himself away from the counter, stepping closer to you again, this time without any sign of mockery or aggression. "Talk to me, as a distraction if anything, what do you dream of? What does freedom look like to you?"

"I don't even remember..." You whispered, you knew you could talk to Eris, with how many times you had threatened him and were still alive to do it again.

Seeing your defeated posture and the raw emotion in your voice, Eris's expression softened considerably. He reached out slowly, hesitantly, as if worried you might lash out again, but placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Everyone has dreams, even those bound by duty and servitude," he murmured softly.

"I think you know that better than anyone," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Even the strongest among us crave something more than the life we lead. But dreams can be forgotten, buried beneath layers of despair and hopelessness." He squeezed your shoulder gently, offering comfort in his own way. "But I won't let you forget, not anymore. Tell me, what is it that you desire?"

"To rest..." You slump slightly against Eris, "Or something..."

As you slumped against him, Eris wrapped an arm around your shoulders, supporting your weight as he guided you towards one of the chairs at the main table. "Rest then," he said gently, easing you down onto the seat. "Take all the time you need."

He crouched down in front of you, his hands resting lightly on your knees as he gazed up at you with an intensity that made your breath catch. "As for something else," he murmured, his voice low and enticing, "Perhaps we could explore that together. I've grown quite fond of our little exchanges, haven't you? You threaten me, I laugh at your audacity, repeat."

Seeing your exhausted state, Eris decided to take matters into his own hands, or rather, use his magic to help you find some much-needed relief. With a swift motion, he traced a delicate pattern in the air, the dishes cleaned themselves up, and stacked properly.

His fingers traced idle patterns on your knee, sending tingles up your spine. "I've watched you, you know. Seen the fire in your eyes, the strength in your spirit. It intrigues me, draws me in like a moth to flame."

"You shouldn't say such things, my Lord." You gasped as his hands were behind to massage your calves from where he was kneeling, such a submissive posture, to kneel in front of someone, like he was with you, one your body too had perfected over the years.

"Eris, please," He corrected, his touch firm yet gentle as he kneaded the tense muscles of your calves. "And why not? I find myself increasingly drawn to your company, regardless of the circumstances."

His thumbs dug deeper, pressing into the knots of tension, seeking to alleviate some of the stress that seemed etched into every line of your body. "And besides," he added with a sly grin, "I enjoy making you squirm. It's quite… entertaining."

He moved upwards, his hands now caressing the backs of your thighs, applying just enough pressure to make you arch off the chair. "Let me take care of you," he offered, his voice a low purr that sent shivers down your spine.

"Take care of me how?" you ask, hesitation in your voice.

Eris's fingers trailed higher, grazing the sensitive flesh just beneath the hem of your skirt. "In whatever ways you allow me to," he replied, his voice husky with promise. "A massage, perhaps, to soothe these weary muscles of yours."

His hands slid further up, teasing the smooth skin of your inner thighs as he leaned in closer, his warm breath ghosting across your ear. "Or maybe a soothing bath, scented with lavender and chamomile, to wash away the fatigue of the past fortnight."

He nipped playfully at your earlobe before pulling back to gaze at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Of course, if you prefer something a bit more… intimate, I wouldn't object to exploring those desires as well, to give you pleasures humans only dream of achieving."

One hand crept under the hem of your skirt, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your thigh. "All you have to do is say yes," he murmured, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "Give yourself over to me, and I will worship every inch of your body until you're drowning in ecstasy." His other hand cupped your face, thumb brushing over your lower lip. "What do you say, my little rebel? Will you let me take care of you? Make you mine so no one else can order you about?"

His words hung heavy in the air between you, tempting and tantalizing. There was a pull, a magnetic force that drew you in and made you consider his offer in earnest. The thought of being taken care of, truly cared for, instead of simply ordered around.

Your heart races, pounding loudly in your ears. This was madness, insanity even. You knew you shouldn't trust a faerie, but Eris had every reason to kill you, yet he actually enjoyed your company and damn if it didn't sound appealing, incredibly appealing. You swallow hard, your throat dry.

"Are you going to brand me?" You ask hesitantly, you had seen a few 'private' slaves the brothers kept, some had multiple, but you had never really seen one with Eris or Lucien.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Eris's lips, clearly amused by your question. "Brand you?" He echoed, feigning surprise. "Why would I want to do that? Unless, of course," He added, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur, "you wish to bear my mark, a symbol of ownership and affection."

His eyes glided from your thigh, trailing upward along the curve of your waist, coming to stare just below your breasts, then your shoulders. "Perhaps," He mused aloud, "A small emblem somewhere discreet, a reminder of who you belong to when I'm not near." His thumb brushed over the swell of your breast, teasing the fabric of your dress. "Would you like that, my fiery little rebel? To wear my insignia proudly, proclaiming to the world that you're mine?"

"Please, no." You shake your head, "I really would not..."

Eris chuckled, a rich, velvety sound that sent pleasant shivers down your spine. "No branding then," he agreed, his hand sliding down to rest possessively on your hip, the other playing with your neck, tracing circles. "Though, a collar might do, hmm? You're mine after all. You need to have something that tells others to fuck off."

With a sudden, fluid movement, he stood up, towering over you. His hands found their way to your shoulders, massaging firmly as he leaned down, his breath hot against your neck. His hands began to work their magic once more, tracing lazy circles along your collarbone before slipping down to tease the neckline of your dress. "Mine," he repeated, savouring the word as if it were a fine wine. "That's all I want to hear, my sweet rebel. That you're mine, and only mine. I've wanted you since the day father bought you. I should've claimed you sooner."

The sensation of his hands on your skin, the heat radiating from his body, it was intoxicating. The way he spoke, the way he looked at you, it was all meant to ensnare you, and it was working.

"Yours," You breathe out, the word escaping your lips before you can stop it. It feels right, natural, like a secret you've been holding onto for far too long. Your eyes flutter closed, savoring the feeling of his hands on your body, the warmth of his presence enveloping you.

"Say it again," He commands, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "Tell me who you belong to, my little rebel. Who owns this body, this soul?"

His hands slide lower, gripping your hips possessively as he pulls you flush against him. You can feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, evidence of his desire, his hunger for you. It's intoxicating, knowing that you have such power over him, that you can reduce this powerful man to nothing more than a slave to his own lust.

"I belong to you." You whisper again, a faint smile on your lips, watching how his eyes darkened further. "And I would like to sleep."

Eris laughed softly, "Well then, your first order is to get some fulfilling sleep, and you can't rebel against me, no matter how much your firey heart desires to." His fingers traced your jaw, "Can you do that for me, sweetheart?"

"Yeah..." You nod gently before Eris winnowed you to his room, leaving you there to follow through with his command and drop on the bed.

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo}

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @slut4acotar @secret-third-thing @shadowsingers-mate @fieldofdaisiies @st4r-girl-official}

[etheries1015]

Lilia x reader - A sneaky intruder and the unfortunate bathroom incident.

General warnings: Gender neutral reader, suggestive, minors pls dni

Lilia was notorious for finding his way inside of your dorm for a wide variety of interesting (and poorly explained) reasons. Ranging from sheer boredom (at least he was honest) to "needing more space" in the kitchen for cooking his interesting concoctions, it was practically a given for you to always expect him to come by and possibly find him inside your dorm one way or another.

It's not always fun and rainbows, though. With invasion of property can also sometimes bring an invasion of privacy....on accident, of course. Lilia never truly intends to cause you any form of distress.

On one of his routine visits to Ramshackle, letting himself in (you could have sworn the door was locked) he stumbled upon...singing. The sound of a shower rang through the horribly old pipes of the dorm, your singing bouncing off the walls and filling the rooms with the sound of your (good or bad?) musical display. With a smile of mischief, Lilia decided to enjoy the show. It doesn't particularly matter if you were good at singing or not, he continued to listen on with a smile on his face as he sat in front of the door to bask in your serenade.

It wasn't long until the water turned off, but as fast as you turned the water off, you were already out the door with a towel covering your body and Lilia welcoming you. He opened his mouth to greet you and compliment the show you put on for him, however, he did not expect you to beat him by screaming in surprise and falling backward before thumping to the ground, and unfortunately, the towel followed suit, revealing yourself for a mere second before you scrambled at lightening pace to cover yourself up again.

It was too late. He saw everything.

Queue the moment where you were back on your feet covered by your towel, Lilia on his knees and looking downwards as you scolded him. He wasn't used to being on the receiving end of a lecture, it was an...interesting twist of events.

"I don't mind you coming into the dorm to do things, but this?! What in your right mind did you THINK was going to happen you dumbass?! I was obviously showering!"

"But your singing captivated me-" He tried to justify, but you were quick to cut him off.

"I do not care!" You cried out with a face of red, "Lilia Vanrouge, you are banned from Ramshackle!!"

.....

Yet there you were, pouting with your hair still wet and baggy clothes on, chin resting on your hand that was propped up against the counter as you gazed in annoyance at the fae who

"You think you can buy my forgiveness with half baked cookies and an apology?" You muttered, staring at the plate of slightly misshapen and charred cookies that Lilia had presented to you. Lilia looked at you with his smile only widening. You looked at him...he looked at you...you looked at him... then down at the cookies. They looked edible, at the very least. He said silver helped, so surely they were not bad.

"Well, you're right. your ban is lifted." You took a bite of the cookie and walked away, Lilia bouncing up in joy and floating over to you with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

"Oh, wonderful!! Now, will you be so kind as to serenade me once again? I bragged to Silver all about your singing- oh and let us talk about your physique! truly a work of art. I saw that cute beauty mark on your-"

"Lilia."

"yes, my little bat?"

"Shut up."

[anonymous-dentist]

Or: Prince Roier Hires a Faerie to Help With His Divorce (he hasn't gotten married yet)

For day two of @smallchaoscryptid's Spiderbit Week - Fae/Kiss

-

Once upon a time...

Roier picks his way through the foliage with a grimace. His feet hurt, twigs keep smacking into his face, bugs keep flying into his mouth. This sucks, but it'll all be worth it.

Thunder rolls above, and rain starts pouring down without a second's warning.

...It'll all be worth it.

He's due back at the castle by morning, but, honestly, he'd kinda rather die than go back. If the wolves eat him, so be it!

Grumbling, he pulls his hood up over his head, and he continues onward. If he freezes to death out here, so be it!

He's not planning on going back to the castle alive, anyway.

Legend has it that, deep in the haunted forest surrounding the Kingdom of Quesadilla, there lives a man-eating witch capable of tearing a man's soul from his body before he can so much as breathe in her general direction. Nobody knows this witch's name, but everybody knows that she's totally fucked up: if she isn't eating people, she's eating bears, and her magic is said to be as destructive as the eruption that created the universe.

Roier needs to meet her now.

So he continues trudging through the woods. The lantern in his hand is fighting to stay lit, and his boots are filled with enough water to drown a rat with, but he's fine. He's going to die miserable, but he's fine.

There's a flash of lightning bright enough to blind him, and then there's a crash of thunder loud enough to make him jump and nearly drop his lantern. When his vision returns, the tree in front of him is toppled to the side, leaving only a charred and smoking stump behind.

And then there's the cat.

Roier, frankly, stares. Because... what?

It's a cute cat, at least: brown with black stripes almost like a tiger's and blue eyes so bright that they almost seem to glow in the night. It sits on the stump with its tail curled around its paws, very polite, 10/10 cat.

Hesitantly, Roier approaches. He holds the lantern up to the cat, tilts his head, smiles.

"You're so cute," he coos, bending down to pet the cat between its little ears. "What are you doing out here, eh?"

The cat yawns, and then it huffs, "I could ask you the same question."

Roier screams and recoils and drops his lantern. It goes out, but the forest doesn't grow any dimmer because the cat is fucking glowing now, okay. Okay!

The cat rolls its eyes, tail twitching. "Okay, ouch. I'm not that scary."

"You're a talking cat," Roier breathes. "What the fuck?"

"What, you were expecting the witch?"

A pause.

Then:

"Oh, come on!"

Roier finally collects himself, brushing the water off of his cloak and adjusting his hood and picking up his lantern.

The cat stands and starts pacing the stump in a small, annoyed circle.

"The witch isn't even real," it complains. "She never was! Witches aren't real!"

Roier frowns. "Fuck you, man, my best friend is a witch."

"They aren't. Witches aren't real. Magicians are real, but witches-"

"You are literally a talking cat."

"I am a faerie," the cat corrects, sounding almost pained as it does so. "Faeries are real. Witches are fake. It's all anti-faerie propaganda created by the Federation-"

"By the what?"

The cat flicks his tail at Roier; Roier's mouth shuts, and, to his alarm, he finds that he can't open it again no matter how hard he tries.

The cat angrily swipes a leaf off of the stump. Unfortunately, it is really cute as it does so.

But then it starts complaining again, and Roier decides that this annoying fucking faerie cat isn't that cute after all.

"I haven't eaten anybody in centuries!" the cat shouts. "Fucking Cucurucho..."

Roier's eyes widen.

He waves at the cat until the cat does its magic thing again and allows him to talk.

First, Roier sucks in a deep breath through his mouth. That was uncomfortable.

Then, he says, "I know Cucurucho. I'm supposed to marry him in three days."

The cat's eyes narrow. Its shadow beneath it seems to grow; it tinges itself red like a pool of water with blood in it, wow. That's almost cool.

"That's why I'm here," Roier explains. "I need the witch to kill me so I don't have to marry him."

The cat sits.

"I see," it says. "Unfortunately, the witch isn't real."

"Suuuure, but you are." Roier sneaks closer. "Can't you just-" He opens his hands and wiggles his fingers. "-magic me dead?"

The cat stares at Roier's fingers. "Um. No. Faeries can't kill."

Roier deflates. "Ugh."

With a frustrated groan, he sits on the stump next to the cat. The cat grumbles, but it doesn't, like, magic him onto the ground, so that's kinda nice of it.

"But," the cat says, slowly as if questioning itself as it speaks, "I can get you to kill for me."

Oh. Now there's a thought. But...

Roier looks to the side at the cat. "I've tried. I'm pretty sure he's immortal, man."

"You haven't tried killing him with faerie magic. Now, come here."

The cat hops off of the stump and pads into the forest. After a moment, Roier follows.

They walk until they reach a hollowed-out tree. Then, the cat hops into the tree and mutters to itself as it looks for something.

Eventually, the cat pokes its head out of the tree with an opaque brown bottle held in its mouth.

Roier takes the bottle and turns it over in his hands.

"This," the cat says, "is extract of unicorn. Mix this in with Cucurucho's food, and he'll be dead by the end of the night."

Roier's mouth twitches. It'll happen, just like that? Just like that? Decades of oppression over just. Like. That?

"Okaaayyy," Roier drawls. He looks back up at the cat with a small smile. "Thank you."

The cat responds by clambering out of the tree and lounging on a branch hanging by Roier's face.

"No, thank you," the cat insists. "You'll be doing us both a favor if you manage to kill that asshole."

"If this kills him, you'll be a hero."

"Oh, I'm no hero. I'm just..." (The cat grins with far too many teeth in its mouth.) "...an invested party."

Well, the cat is probably evil. But that's fine. So is Cucurucho, and two wrongs make a right, right?

-

Well, wrong! Because Cucurucho isn't fucking dead.

Roier stomps back to the tree stump with the faerie's empty unicorn piss whatever bottle in hand. He doesn't have a lantern this time because, frankly, he really isn't intent on returning to the castle this time. If he trips over a root and dies, so be it!

The cat is nowhere to be seen. Of course, the bastard.

"Gatinho!" Roier calls. He cups both hands around his mouth and spins in a circle and continues shouting, "Gatinho! Where the fuck are you! Come here!"

No response.

Frustrated, Roier chucks the bottle to the ground and plops onto the stump. He puts his head in his hands and groans.

"I am going to fucking die," he moans. "I can't go home, I need to die, what the fuck."

A twig snaps. A presence ghosts over his shoulder, what feels like fingers grazing his tunic. But, when he snaps his head up and turns around, all he sees is the cat sitting behind him.

Roier's eyes narrow. "You."

"Me," the cat agrees. "Did it work? Is he dead? Please tell me he's dead. He's dead, right?"

"No! He isn't! He thought that unicorn shit was edible glitter! Now he wants it at the wedding!"

The cat blinks. "Huh."

"Yeah, 'huh'." Roier huffs and turns back around and hides his face again. "Fuck you, man. You said it would kill him."

"It should've. He's a demon, right?"

"How should I know? He's a fucking bear wizard thing."

"Okay, again, wizards aren't real, magicians are. But you're marrying him, right? How do you not know what species he is?"

"It's not like I'm getting a choice in the matter," Roier spits. He glares into the palms of his hands, shoulders shaking with barely-concealed rage. "Either I marry him or he destroys the kingdom."

There's a pregnant pause as the cat takes this information in. Fair, honestly. Roier hadn't exactly told him that he's a prince. Wasn't important, still isn't important. Doesn't matter if he's a prince if he's being sold off to marry a goddamn bear like he's a common animal.

It's for the good of the kingdom, Foolish had said. He and Vegetta have always liked Cucurucho despite Cucurucho being a legendary fucking creep. It's either you or Leo.

And Roier isn't the one that's meant to take the throne after his parents die.

"Can't you just kill me?" Roier asks. He waves a hand in a random direction. "Just make a tree fall on me or something. It'll be an accident, it's fine, your faerie cops won't know."

"Um, no," the cat says. "That's fucked up."

"Don't you eat people? How the fuck do you eat people without killing them?"

"Who says I killed them before eating them?"

Ah. Sounds about right.

...Kinda cool, to be honest. Imagining a tiny little kitty cat rip a grown dude apart like he's a slice of bread. Almost funny in a way.

Roier jumps as something brushes the hair out of his face.

He jerks his head upright and glares down at the cat, now sitting delicately in front of him.

"I have an idea," the cat tells him. "Follow me."

As they walk back to the hollow tree, the cat asks, "Does Cucurucho still have that freaky mechanical sword?"

Roier thinks. "Maybe? I don't know, he kinda just sits and stares at people. Sometimes he chases the servants around with a sword? Dunno if it's mechanical, though..."

"Well, any sword will work. Hold on."

The cat leaps into the tree and comes out with a new bottle, this one clear.

Roier takes the bottle and swishes it around. The liquid inside looks like oil, okay...

"This is dragon's blood," the cat explains. "It's corrosive to the touch, so be careful. Tell him that it's a special polish for his sword. It should eat his skin to the bone and kill him dead."

"Huh," Roier says, suddenly much more careful with the bottle. He gently slides it into his pocket, makes sure it's secure between a bag of coins and his headband. "Okay. Cool."

"This should work," the cat says. "But I'll try and think of something else for if it doesn't."

"Yeah, well, it'd better work," Roier huffs. "I'm getting married in two days. Then the gods only know what he's gonna do with me."

"Trust me, we'll figure it out."

"Trust you? Aren't you some kind of evil faerie cat?"

The cat looks offended. "Excuse you, I'm barely evil anymore. All I do is read these days. Do you know how many books I have at my house? More than Cucurucho, that's for sure."

"You have a house?"

The cat visibly bristles. "Of course I have a house. What, do you think I'm homeless?"

"You are a cat."

"Not all the time!"

Oh, that's interesting. Roier can almost imagine what the cat looks like in a human form, but the idea escapes him at the last second.

"Whatever," Roier sighs. "Just kill me tomorrow if this doesn't work."

-

Roier doesn't even bother shouting as he storms up to the stump.

He sits, pulls his cloak off, tosses it to his feet, kicks it away. What the fuck!!

He doesn't so much as blink as the cat appears by his side.

"It didn't work?" the cat cries. "Really? That should've worked!"

"Yeah, well, it didn't," Roier huffs. "He wore gloves today. And Cucurucho figured out that I've been sneaking out to see someone at night, so he told my parents that we're going to move to a different castle out in the middle of nowhere. I bet he's going to lock me up, the piece of shit."

The cat's ears lay back on its head. Its eyes narrow, and its lip curls back in a clear snarl.

"I know," Roier agrees. "Fuck this guy for real."

"Fuck him."

"Fuck him!"

Roier smiles just for a second, and he even manages a brief laugh before remembering, right. He's fucking doomed. Right.

Sighing, he slumps to the side until he's tumbling off of the stump and splayed across the ground. He buries his face in the grass and screams.

To his credit, he hardly jumps as a hand firmly settles on his back and rubs it. Small circles, firm hand, big hand, it feels like, wow.

Something- a knee?- presses against Roier's arm firmly. It's grounding in a way. Almost.

"I'm getting married tomorrow," Roier whines. "Just kill me, gatinho. I promise I won't tell anyone."

"I'm not going to kill you, guapito," the cat says. (Roier blushes. Guapito...) Its voice sounds deeper, almost. Louder. More clear. "I can't."

"Then what am I supposed to do? Marry Cucurucho?"

"I won't let that happen."

"Why? Because you want to kill him? Because that hasn't exactly been working so far."

"Because it's super fucked up that he's forcing you to marry him. I don't give a shit about the kingdom, I don't live there. I want him dead, but I'm starting to think that he's unkillable."

The hand moves from Roier's back up to his head. Fingers sift through his hair. Woooow, that feels good. When's the last time Roier got touched this softly? Before Cucurucho arrived?

"I've been thinking," the cat continues. "I've been keeping an eye on Cucurucho for centuries, but he's never tried destroying the kingdom before now. Before you. I think that, if you're gone, then he might leave, too."

Roier cracks an eye open. He doesn't shift his head at all, so he can only just barely make out a hint of cloth. So the cat has clothes when he's a human, that's cool, Roier guesses. Makes him wonder where they came from.

"So... kill me," Roier tells him. "If it'll get him to leave the kingdom alone, kill me."

"I can't do that."

"I'm not next in line for the throne! It's fine! Just push me into the river, I can't swim."

"You can't swim? Really?"

"Well, I can, but I can pretend that I can't!"

"You are so... selfless," the cat says, sounding completely exasperated. "And stupid. No, come with me. I know how we can solve this without killing you."

The hand leaves Roier's head, and then a cold nose is poking at his cheek until he's sitting up and looking the cat right in its little kitty eyes.

"Do you still have cat eyes when you're in another form?" Roier can't help but ask. "That would be really cool."

The cat chuckles. "Maybe. Come on. I have one last thing we can try."

They go to the hollow tree, and Roier waits as the cat scrambles into the tree and surfaces with a necklace clutched in its teeth.

Roier takes the necklace and inspects it. It's a solid gold chain with a little charm that looks like a cat's head. Cute.

"What, is this evil faerie gold that will melt Cucurucho's skin off?" Roier asks.

"No, it's for you," the cat replies. "Wear it tomorrow. When the wedding reaches the climax, take the necklace off and break it."

Roier points at the cat accusingly. "You are going to kill me!"

The cat rolls its eyes. "I'm not. Just... trust me."

Trust the man-eating faerie cat, sure. Right.

Roier sighs, but he puts the necklace on, anyway. It's surprisingly warm around his neck.

The cat almost seems to smile. "You look lovely."

"This thing is going to explode and blow my head off."

"No, you'll see."

And, well. What choice does Roier have but to wait and see?

-

The final wedding preparations go by in an uncomfortable blur.

Leo comes in to hug Roier goodbye. She then punches Roier in the stomach and tells him to write to her once he's at his new house.

Jaiden comes in to help Roier finish getting ready. She's happy about the marriage because she really thinks that Cucurucho is a good person, and Roier can't help but be happy that she's happy.

Foolish comes in to walk Roierto the church. He and Vegetta each take one of Roier's arms, and they walk.

And then Cucurucho is waiting at the church in front of the altar in an all-white suit. His fur is meticulously brushed, his claws are polished, his smile is painted on, he's absolutely grotesque.

Roier hates him.

"Good morning," Cucurucho says as Roier settles in front of the altar.

"It's sunset, you fucking idiot," Roier snaps. He can say what he wants now, right? He's going to die, anyway. The cat is going to kill him.

Cucurucho laughs, and then the ceremony starts.

Roier tunes out most of the goings-on if only to keep himself from breaking down and breaking the necklace before it's time. The cat said to wait until the climax, so Roier's going to wait for the goddamn climax.

He comes back to himself as the cleric asks if anybody in the audience has any objections to the marriage.

This sounds like a fucking climax if Roier's ever heard one.

"Yes," he says. "I object!"

He tears the necklace from around his neck and throws it to the floor. Before anybody can stop him, he slams his heel into the charm.

The entire church erupts into screams as a blinding white light fills it. Magic tears at Roier's skin, biting and pulling. He squeezes his eyes shut, anticipating the end of it all.

But:

"I also object," the cat says.

Two large hands settle on Roier's upper arms, and he's pulled back and against a firm chest.

Roier tilts his head back- not too far, because the cat's human form is shorter than he is, funnily enough- and his eyes widen as he takes in the most beautiful man in the world. Long hair the same color as the cat's coat, scarred face, feathery earrings, cat eyes.

"No," Curucucho snaps. "No!"

"Yes!" the cat- well, not the cat, Roier supposes- shouts. "The prince is mine! He swore himself to me the moment he accepted that necklace, and so he will go back with me to the Faewild and become my husband. You know the rules, bear."

Leo, in the audience, cheers. So does Foolish, who always appreciates a good show.

"Gatinho," Roier hisses.

The faerie shrugs his concerns off. Roier is annoyed about this for exactly three seconds before he gets caught up in the faerie's eyes.

Could be a worse arranged marriage, that's for sure...

A long moment passes, but Cucurucho eventually says a begrudging, "Yes."

"So," the faerie continues, "you will not destroy the kingdom for this. If the prince has already been promised to somebody else, then he never rejected you."

"Yes," Cucurucho sighs.

"You're hot when you're arguing," Roier whispers.

The faerie's cheeks redden, as do the tips of his pointed ears. Cute!

Yeah, no, this arranged marriage will be way better than the last one.

"So!" The faerie turns Roier around so that they're looking at each other properly for the first time eye-to-eye. "You will be coming with me."

"Yeah, okay," Roier agrees. Hell yeah. "Take me, gatinho."

"'Take me'?" Foolish gasps. "Ooooo, this is getting spicy!"

"All you need to do is say my name," the faerie says.

He leans in close and whispers right into Roier's ear, and Roier returns the favor... with a couple of flirtatious remarks thrown in for good measure. Sue him, he's about to get married to a sexy faerie. He's going to make the most of the situation.

"Cellbit," Roier murmurs, and something tickles at his skin. Something... purple. It feels purple. Soft and purple.

"Roier," the faerie replies. He looks positively flustered, aww. He's going to be so fun to tease once they're out of the church.

As the Faewild's magic starts to pick up, Roier can't help but give the faerie a grateful kiss.

The faerie blinks away from the kiss after a moment of some very eager lip-chasing. His face is completely red, and his eyes are wide and unblinking even as the magic around them whips like the wind.

"There's more where that comes from," Roier teases. He puts his arms around the faerie and smiles. "You're marrying me, get used to it. That's just part of the deal."

Because faeries are all about deals, right? Well, Roier's the best deal this guys is ever gonna get.

The faerie swallows, an eager grin teasing at his face.

"Yeah," he breathes. "Alright."

He pulls Roier's head down for another kiss just as the Faewild swallows them whole.

-

(Legends say that there are monsters living in the haunted forest surrounding the Kingdom of Quesadilla. Once monster is a man-spider with glowing red eyes and fangs the length of one's sword. The other is a furry snarling beast of a thing with magic worthy of the most powerful of witches.

Ah, but don't worry, my child, for these monsters don't hunt humans.

No, they hunt bears, and isn't that a good thing for us?)

[theolivetree123]

Here's some very rough sketches of new twst OCs bc I can’t figure out the logistics for my Christmas event 🫠

I might ship em with other chars, but idk who, PLS GIVE ME IDEAS 😭😭😭

Yapping below 💙

So, if u couldn't tell already, these three characters are RSA students.

Azmi is an adventurous prince who hopes for freedom from his royal status to live a normal life,

Dom is a shy boy with dreams to be a performer, yet struggles with self-image,

And Reverie (Rev for short) is a positive fae guy who could rival Malleus and who is the son of RSA's headmage.

I honestly haven't come up with much for these characters other than those short spurts of info abt them, but I might flesh out them later (especially Rev bc I love his design the most- even tho I used other ppls designs as references I swear I tried to make it my own 😭 hopefully I did good)

Tagging: @cheerleaderman @the-rini-rush @babyghoul138 @moonyasnow @gimmeurmoneyagh @scint1llat3 @screamintoad @bunniehunn @oya-oya-okay @angelwishess @mirioho @fell-e @sunnysidesevenup @jovieinramshackle

[slytherin-pen]

A Lover’s Wrath

pairing: Lucien x Nesta

word count: 2.4k

warnings: canon typical violence, female rage, injury cleaning, Lucien’s abs make an appearance, hurt/comfort

a/n: written for day 5 of @sjmromanceweek “favorite trope”. i’m not sure if female rage/revenge is considered a trope, but hurt comfort definitely is so i added both. i hope you enjoy your feast, my children 🫶🏻

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

The scent of blood hung thick in the air, metallic and pungent. The bond in Nesta’s chest tying her to Lucien practically screamed at the recognition it was his blood. Nesta wove through the trees, each step deliberate, silent. The Autumn Court woods were dense, their ancient branches curling like skeletal fingers, but she didn’t falter. Not when she was this close. She trekked through the woods in the Mortal Lands alone to find her sister—she could do this to find her mate—and this time, she would not fail.

She had been fuming when she heard Lucien had been taken. He’d gone on a mission to the Autumn Court alone to meet with Eris—a foolish mistake, one she would berate him for later—and she could only assume that on his way back is when he was caught. Or so she hoped. Killing the Autumn Court heir wasn’t on her list of things she’d like to do, but she wouldn’t hesitate if he had betrayed Lucien. All she knew was that she had been anxiously waiting in the house for his return when Tamlin burst through the door giving her deja vu of the day he took her sister.

“Lucien’s been taken,” he’d growled, dropping a sloppily written, crinkled ransom note at her feet.

Once Nesta had snapped out of her stupor, she’d hastily read the note. Autumn Court rebels had taken Lucien thinking he’d be a carrot to dangle over High Lord Beron’s head. Nesta would have laughed at the absurdity of it, of their stupidity to think Beron would care about his exiled son if she wasn’t so furious. Eris had magicked the note to Tamlin before Beron had a chance to see it, knowing Nesta and Tamlin were the only ones who could help him. All of Eris’ plans ‘would be ruined’ if Beron caught him snooping around the court trying to find Lucien. The next time Nesta saw the eldest Vanserra, she’d strangle him for his selfishness.

But that was a matter for another time. Now, she was a wolf prowling through the woods for her prey. All those times she’d been scolded for her sharp claws and teeth blew away like ash being carried by the wind. She didn’t care if she was a bitch or a monster, she was Lucien’s. She’d be damned if she didn’t use every weapon at her disposal to save him.

As Nesta crept through the trees, she heard voices.

“That beast of a High Lord should be here soon.”

“Do you have the crossbow ready?”

“Yeah, we’ll shoot him down before he even has a chance.”

Nesta nearly snorted. Tamlin wasn’t coming, something about the treaties between High Lords being precarious and crossing borders uninvited could lead to a war that Spring had no chance of winning at the moment. That was fine. Nesta was much worse than the beast they were expecting.

She approached where the males stood, their faces nothing but shadows, the only light from the full moon. She felt her power thrum, knew her eyes were glowing silver, and her magic was buzzing at the prospect of bloodshed. It had been waiting for this moment, for Nesta to finally unleash it outside of training with Lucien. She’d practiced her aim on trees and had mastered how much to allow to the surface near the river so Lucien could dunk her in when she overheated. She was ready. These males were not.

Silver flames burst from her hands, charring the first male until he was nothing but a pile of bone dust.

“What the-“

She stepped out from behind the trees. Let them see her power, her rage. Flames covered her hands up to her elbows. It was cold, it felt like the death she was about to deliver to every Fae that laid a finger on her mate.

She aimed another blast. Another pile of dust.

The third male held up the crossbow, arms trembling with fear. Her magic preened at that. Reveled in it.

“Where is he?” she demanded, voice void of any emotion. As if it wasn’t her that was speaking but something older.

A wet splotch appeared on his pants, slowly spreading down his legs. “I’m not telling you. We need him to bribe the High Lord.”

Nesta tilted her head, sizing up her prey. “The High Lord isn’t coming, you buffoon. Your friends are dead. Are you really going to die over a mission you’ve already failed?”

The male dropped his crossbow and sunk to his knees. With the added light of her flames, she could see how pale he was. The scent of fear permeated the area. “Okay, okay, he’s that way,” he pointed West, “please don’t kill me.”

She laughed, low and dark. “Oh, you silly male. You were dead the second you touched my mate.”

The male paled further, but he was dead before he had the chance to scream.

She stood there—surveying or appraising she couldn’t quite tell—the damage she’d done. Then she strode off in the direction the male had pointed.

A dilapidated hunting lodge came into view, and the bond hummed.

Lucien was here.

She pushed open the rickety door, grimacing as it nearly fell off its hinges. The room reeked of animal carcasses, mildew, and blood—his blood. Her throat tightened as she spotted him, shackled to a chair, golden skin marred with bruises and a gash along his temple.

Lucien barely lifted his head at her arrival. His red hair was matted, and one eye was swollen, but that metal eye of his still widened with awareness. Recognition.

“About time,” he rasped, a smirk ghosting his cracked lips. “I was beginning to think you’d take this as your chance to get rid of me.”

Nesta’s fingers curled into fists. “Shut up.”

His smirk faltered just slightly, and he gazed into the silver flames roaring in her eyes. She crouched in front of him, channeling the flames to her palms, just enough that she was able to break the chains. The moment his arms were free, Lucien slumped forward, and Nesta barely caught him before he hit the ground.

He hissed in pain as her hands steadied him, but she didn’t let go. Couldn’t. He was warm beneath her touch, warmer than he should have been, fever burning at the edges of his exhaustion.

Nesta swallowed, her voice quieter now. “Can you stand?”

Lucien’s good eye flicked up to meet hers. For once, there was no teasing, no amusement—only relief. His voice was softer than before, almost hoarse. “I think I’ll manage.”

Nesta rolled her eyes at the stubborn male. But when he staggered, she slipped his arm over her shoulder without a word, bearing his weight. Lucien didn’t fight her, just let out a quiet breath, pressing his face briefly against her hair.

She ignored the warmth curling in her chest. Ignored the way her pulse stuttered as she helped him out of that wretched place, his fingers gripping her just as tightly as she held onto him.

When they made it to the border between Autumn and Spring, Lucien had just enough energy to winnow them straight to their house.

Once inside, Nesta laid him down on the couch in front of the fireplace.

Lucien groaned and she brushed some of the bloodied strands off his face. His beautiful face, now marred by the damage those males caused him. She had half a mind to find a way to bring them back from the dead just so she could kill them again. Slowly.

She shook her head. She needed to tend to his wounds, not have murderous fantasies. Just as Nesta turned to head into the bathing chamber for a healing kit, it plopped down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Another matter to be dealt with on a different day. The house had come alive at some point in the last few weeks. The windows opening near her reading chair just the way she liked in the afternoon. Dinner was magically prepared for them when they came home late from council meetings. It had freaked her out at first, at what her magic was capable of without even trying, but this time she was grateful.

She distantly heard the sound of a bath being drawn in the bathing chamber as she plucked a cloth and disinfectant tonic out of the kit. Yes, he’d need a bath too.

“Are you not going to scold me?” Lucien croaked.

Nesta huffed as she turned to him, kneeling down by his head. He hissed as she dabbed the soaked cloth on the wound on his forehead. “I’m not a total monster. I’ll save it for tomorrow when you can argue back, because you have hell to pay for that stunt, Lucien Vanserra.”

He chuckled, then winced. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from my formidable female.”

She humphed, but couldn’t hide the heat spreading on her cheeks.

Lucien raised a trembling hand and swiped his thumb over her jaw. “You came for me,” he whispered.

“Of course I did,” she snapped, then cleared her throat. Softer this time, she said, “Of course I came for you.”

Blue met russet, and it was like a thousand words passed between them.

I was scared.

I know.

You came for me.

I always will.

I love you.

I love you too.

Then her eyes snapped down to where she was placing a bandage on the gash on his chin. She turned back to the kit, grabbing the tonic for fever.

“Here,” she murmured. “You need to take this.”

Lucien held her gaze again as she gently cradled the back of his head to lift him enough that he wouldn’t choke, then brought the vial to his lips and poured it down his throat.

His eyes glossed over, swimming with emotion she couldn’t quite place. Then he cleared his throat and it disappeared. “I’ll need help in the bath,” he smirked. “Bruised muscles and all.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Yes, the big baby will need help in the bath. Shall I grab your rubber ducky?”

Lucien snarled light-heartedly and pinched her ribs.

She yelped and swatted him away, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Careful, Vanserra. You don’t want to pick a fight you can’t finish.”

Lucien smiled, the most him thing she’d seen from him since he returned. Like the sun peeking out from behind storm clouds. She couldn’t help but smile back.

She moved his legs to fall off the side of the couch, then slung an arm over her shoulder. “Come on,” she said softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

When they made it to the bathing chamber, they both paused. They had been taking things slow. Nesta found herself tolerating his endless flirting, appreciating his closeness and affection, but they had yet to see each other naked.

“I can wash myself,” Lucien whispered.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’d come in here to find you drowning—“ she paused. “Unless it’d make you uncomfortable.”

Lucien shook his head vehemently. “Absolutely not, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Nesta scoffed. “You may be an attractive male, but bruised and battered is hardly my type. This is simply a necessary evil.”

“A necessary evil?” Lucien questioned with a raised brow.

She swatted his chest, then apologized when he flinched. “That’s enough out of you.”

“Yes ma’am,” he grinned.

Nesta slowly started untying the front of his shirt, helping him lift it over his head before tossing it in the corner. They held eye contact as she sank to her knees, a blush creeping up Lucien’s face. She glared at him but found her face felt warm too. She undid the ties to his pants, pulling them down over his muscular thighs. She swallowed, staring at the floor as she helped him step out of the pant legs, Lucien’s hand firmly gripping her shoulder for balance.

She gracefully rose from the floor, keeping her eyes on the wall to the side of him until she stood upright again, tossing his pants into the pile. She held his hand as he lowered into the bath, sighing as the hot water embraced him.

She grabbed the stool by the sink, placing the vase of flowers on the counter before situating the stool by Lucien’s head. The bubbles covered his bottom half, but her eyes roamed over the planes of muscles across his chest. Lucien coughed, and she looked up to find him smirking like a proud male, and she quickly yanked the washcloth off the side of the tub before dousing it in the water.

Nesta meticulously scrubbed every inch of him. From the blood on his face to the dirt under his fingernails. Lucien was leaning back against the tile with his eyes closed, unconsciously twirling the end of her side braid. When she finished the top half, she handed the cloth to him while she went to work on his hair. She cupped her hand at the top of his forehead to prevent any water from pouring over his face as she drenched his hair with a cup the house provided.

Lucien moaned when she started massaging shampoo into his scalp, and Nesta smirked to herself as she used her nails lightly.

“Wicked female,” he muttered.

“You like it,” she retorted.

“Undeniably so,” he said.

She ran her fingers through the ends of his hair as she applied conditioner, letting it soak for a minute before rinsing it out. The tub started draining itself as she grabbed a towel off the rack and promptly wrapped it around his waist as he held on to her shoulder, and then her hand as she led him to the bedroom.

He sat on the edge of the bed as Nesta went through his wardrobe, grabbing loose linen sleep pants, deciding he needn’t bother with a shirt. She pulled them over his feet, then turned around as Lucien dropped the towel to pull them up to his waist.

He scooted back until he reached the headboard and lifted the covers over himself while Nesta busied herself behind the dressing divider putting on a nightgown.

She crawled in on the other side of the bed and removed the pillow that usually separated them. “Is this okay?” she asked.

Lucien nodded and pulled her into him, resting her head over his heart. “Thank you, Nesta. For everything.”

Nesta pressed a lingering kiss to his chest, to his heart, and intertwined their fingers beneath the covers. He returned it with a kiss to her head, whispering into her hair, “I love you.”

She squeezed his hand once before his eyes shut, and Nesta found herself lying awake all night listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

taglist: @tele86 @viktoriaashleyyx

[ayrennaranaaldmeri]

so glad bioware ignored the pesky world states, would have only been awful and horrible and not neat at all to have two wardens (rook if u play one and davrin) comment that a certain someone who bioware wants to erase from existence potentially killed an archdemon and lived, you know, while they're talking about how you always have to die when u kill one.

[kiame-sama]

hiii!!

can I get a description for Cater, Sebek, Rollo, Neige and Che’nya for the HAE au? kinda wanna draw them!

thank you! I love your writing so much!!

Cater is a Lake Water Nymph;

- Cater has bright red hair closer in color to a red Ludwigia than the orange of cannon. Cater's eyes are bright green and his skin is pearl white, slightly clammy, and semi-translucent due to him being a literal creature that is akin to living water that grew flesh. In the water Cater gets fins more adapted to swimming in calm water, his semi-translucent skin taking a faintly striped green and red tone like his eyes and hair.

Che'nya is a Bakeneko;

- He is similar to his canon appearance, but the purple and pink of his hair is also visible on the skin of his forehead, cheeks, neck, arms, legs, and back. He also now has a two pronged fluffy tail with similar stripes that is often seen waving mischievously behind him. His forearms are furred and more like paws from the elbow down and his back legs are similar to that of Leona- furred cat legs with raised heels.

Neige is a Mourning Dove Harpy;

- Neige has the same dark black hair and big brown doe eyes he does in cannon but he also has grey-brown feathers throughout his black hair. His cheeks, neck, shoulders, and upper back have the same gray-brown feathers with speckles of dark brown, white, black, and gray feathers throughout giving a light speckling pattern. His wings are that same gray brown color and are 6.5ft (200cm) in length. The ends of his flight feathers are often trailing over the ground beneath him when he is relaxed and he rarely opens his wings fully. His legs from his knees down are large bird-feet that are a pinkish-burnt sienna with white talons he often paints various colors.

Sebek is a Raiju Fae;

- His hair is a bit more wild and fur-like compared to his canon appearance with yellows mixed in to the sage green color. His teeth are much sharper and he actually has more dog-like qualities similar to Jack's canon appearance with the beastman ears and spiky furred tail that has a rougher texture compared to most fur. Along his back, at the edge of his hairline, and throughout the ridge of his tail fur, he has crocodilian scutes that harken back to his non-Fae Raiju half. He has the lower legs of a dog and longer than usual claws on his paws.

Rollo is an Inferno Fire Nymph;

- Rollo's eyes are a deep ashen gray as is his skin and hair when he is not in his active inferno flame form. His skin is paler than his hair but still a gray tint of white. Much like a burned log, his flesh will bare the same ashen and faded look to it. Around his eye sockets is dark, almost black, like the charring of burnt wood. When in his active inferno fire form, his ashen hair will ignite into flames, his gray eyes turning a bright fire red. Similarly, his skin will take a redder tone and embers will float off of his hair. Along his dark eyes and skin will be lines of what look like fire burning within like veins.

[vyntera]

I am chill. Plus what if my sweet daughter eats something she shouldn't eat, than i have to blame you and get my brother than resurrect Rev again

also did you get me anything ?

　﹙⠀…⠀﹚ i just got here.

[lovemyromance]

No bc if ALL SJM was doing with Elriel was setting them up to be the charred ruined ashes from which the Elucien & Gwynriel ships set sail....

Why even include Elriel at ALL?

Sorry - correction - why ONLY include Elriel moments from ACOWAR - ACOSF? And no moments with Elucien? No mention even of Gwyn or Gwynriel?

Feysand had setup and chemistry with each other in ACOTAR. Nessian had setup and chemistry as early as ACOMAF, 3 whole books before we got their story.

But you're telling me, on the eve of an Elucien or Gwynriel book, we have had ZERO displays of their chemistry and setup together?

This is not a standalone series. It's a continuation - a spinoff from Feyre's story. There is no reason why there should be ZERO build up between these alleged couples in a spinoff. That's the exact OPPOSITE of what authors do for spinoffs and sequels.

Elriel is not "build up for Elucien". It can't be - if there's no Elucien in sight. Now, if SJM had written Elriel - but ALSO had Elain & Lucien interact and be in each others orbit over the past 3 books - then I would be more open to considering this argument.

But alas / every plot point Elucien should've had to set them up (rescue scene, power discovery scene, giving Elain an almighty weapon scene, potatoes scene, bonus chapter scene) -> all that has been given to Elain & Azriel.

If SJM planned on EL/GA - all Elain & Azriel would've hypothetically shared is an off page hookup. But that's not what we got. We got scenes where they start to understand and care about each other. We get scenes where they show their subtle attraction (and eventually - right in your face attraction) to each other.

If SJM wanted to make Elain & Azriel a bump in each others roads to HEA -> she would've written them the same way Nesta fucked some nameless fae in the first chapter of ACOSF.

Vaguely. Barely a paragraph. ONE mention.

You don't painstakingly set up quiet moments with them in the background of Feyre or Nesta's book. In fact - you don't even bother with setting up any interactions between them until this supposed Elucien/Gwynriel book.

There is simply no reason to waste words like that. SJM has already said the spinoff is dual POV, one couple.

This is not throne of glass where Aelin went through 2 men in 3 books just to end up with someone new. This is not CC, where Ruhn went through Hypaxia to end up with Lydia. Those were multi-POV, and relationships were developed across multiple books.

And all this is just based on the logic of how Elriel has so many interactions together - let alone the actual quality and significance of the actual scenes. Their stories have been woven together since ACOWAR.

SJM compared Elain's potato steam to Azriel's shadows for fucks sake. Think about how y'all would react if Elain baked a caramel tart that was described as "the same golden hue as Lucien's eyes". Think about how y'all would react if Gwyn gave Azriel a book on how to sing better idk - a gift that made him laugh so hard his eyes brightened / a gift that he stared at for a YEAR

Y'all would go nuts, don't even act otherwise.

The mating bond between Elain & Lucien is the obstacle here. Not Elain & Azriel's blooming relationship.