#cresseida style

[desolationfires]

A Court of Thorns and Roses

𓇼 Cresseida 𓇼

[kvitkapaporoti1]

Cresseida in the Autumn Court.AU where she is married to Eris.

First it was a political alliance, now they’re a couple who love, support, and of course, furiously protect each other.

Here she is in autumn court’s style gown (summer and autumn palettes, I couldn’t decide which one I like more)

[mhevarujta]

Tigris...

I keep going back to her. In fact I think there will eventually be a book, a short story, or something, simply because her story is left so open.

When we were first introduced to her in Mockingjay she was an oddity to me. Cresseida saw a friend in her, she was a rebel sympathizer, risked herself by helping, had not been part of the Hunger Games in years and years... yet she was immersed enough in capitol culture that she had almost turned herself into a tiger? At least I had assumed that she had chosen to have cosmetic surgery. It was striking to me, because I'd assume that one who has enough judgement to do the previously mentioned things despite the constant propaganda (including the one happening within her one house throughout her upbringing) would HAVE some kind of line concerning what is style and a bit of interfering with natural looks and what is pretty much madness.

TBoSaS only enhanced such thoughts. The girl we meet there? The one taking care of her cousin, doing her job well but still having a mind to judge the demeanor of her employer, living in poverty, having been through the same bombings and hunger that Snow has. We don't even know how she kept herself and her grandma going when Snow was away. Did she have to sell herself, which IS something she migh have done in the past considering Snow's thoughts immediately going towards that direction when she was trying to fix his clothes? She was even being so creative in finding natural ways to make things beautiful and stylish... I don't see her becoming a woman who goes into this animal-like transformation.

Now, we know that she was part of some of the earliest (post-10th, but still very early) Hunger Games as a stylist, when the job was yet not even an official one. There is one line Katniss has that really pops out to me:

Why is she doing this? She's no Cinna, someone willing to sacrifice herself for others. This woman was the embodiment of Capitol shallowness. She was one of the stars of the Hunger Games until...until she wasn't. So is that it, then? Bitterness? Hatred? Revenge? Actually, I'm comforted by the idea.A need for revenge can burn long and hot. Especially if every glance in a mirror reinforces it.

But we know that Tigris never started as any of those things. Neither does she seem like a shallow, empty-headed person by the time we needed. So what if what happened to Tigris is not cosmetic surgery?

I can definitely see Tigris being the stylist of a tribute, genuinely trying to help, being indeed the first 'Cinna'. Then the tribute wins, she at least gets the sense of having helped someone through that and he/she is forced into sex-work by Snow. That is a step too far for her, she makes a point of it in the next games and the surgery becomes her punishment. After all, let's consider Gaul, her creation of mutts and even Snow studying under her. Tigris growls, she doesn't eat proper food (just raw meat), she doesn't just look like a tiger, but has this animalistic movement. Whatever that surgery was? It did NOT just affect her appearence.

[queercontrarian]

cresseida with a combination of these two styles

[ae-neon]

ACOTAR Ships I Think About For No Reason (gimme fic recs please)

Feycien/ Feyre x Lucien (take me back!!!)

Lussian? Lucien x Cassian (the enemies to lovers Nessian could never be)

Feyssian?? Feyre x Cassian (maybe the best friends to lovers that never happened)

Feyre x Lucien x Cassian (heavy Band of Exiles vibes actually?)

Rhycien / Lucien x Rhysand (this is actually just a variant of the no-no ship, ifykyk)

Nezriel (I've read every fic and they're all delicious but Nesta vs Buffer is compulsory)

The no-no ship that everyone hates

Nesseida? Nesta X Cresseida (why did autocorrect try make that Nessian, Ew)

Nesquin / Nesta + Tarquin

(I've made a few posts based of my vision of Nesta in the Summer Court

+ I swear I've read two fics about them but I can't remember the names!! I just know at least one was from Flowerflamestars cause of their distinct style)

Actually wouldn't Elain and Tarquin be so cute omgggg!!! (I'm going to be consumed by this idea for the next 3 to 5 days)

Elain x Mor

Emerie x Cassian (I'll admit I don't know much about ACOSF but Emerie is the most prominent and probably the only real look at an Illyrian woman we'll ever get and old/fanon Cassian had so much potential to represent Illyrian men. We need poc x poc shiiiiipppssss)

Human!Elain x Graysen (I'm tired of anti human propaganda especially since in both acotar and cc they represent previously enslaved peoples and minorities as a whole, just say it out loud Sarah)

Rhysand x being alone as a morally gray person unsanctified by sjm's narrative.

Rhysand x Amren (villain power couple with rich guy bending over backwards to shower his enby lover in jewels, also poc x poc if you close your eyes and just accept it cause I said so)

Amarantha x being a more complex and competent villain

King of Hybern x a name

Papa Archeron x sitting in Human!Elain's greenhouse and thinking of his beloved bitch wife (love them idc idc)

Vassa x her throne in acotar Russia

Me x writing without spiralling down 3 separate tangential rabbit holes

[gracie-rosee]

Weirdly specific things I want to see in the next acotar book

-Cresseida trying to set Tarquin up on blind dates 24/7

-Eris playing with puppies

-Elain reading more smut than all the Valkyries combined (this is canon to me)

-Azriel’s birthday

-Cassian having a bunch of houseplants, despite not being able to keep them alive

-Elain chopping her hair off Mulan style. She’d rock a bob don’t even try to tell me otherwise.

-Amren (and Varian) adopting a dog (Varian calls it their child)

[vulpes-fennec]

Hot Springs Soak (Gwynriel) 🎁

Summary: A series of fluffy/smutty ACOTAR winter one-shots! 12 stories for the 12 days leading up to Solstice (December 21).

Just a fluffy scenario of Gwyn and Azriel visiting a hot spring in the winter! Also trying to expand our ACOTAR world beyond the Night Court because there are only so many things you can do in Velaris.

Read: Masterlist | AO3

The Dawn Court’s hot spring resorts were renowned even among the continental Fae. Powered by the same geothermal energy that fueled the court’s master forges, the hot springs were an especially popular tourist attraction in the winter. Azriel was lucky he managed to book a weekend getaway through one of his contacts at Thesan’s court. 

He winnowed Gwyn to the resort, checking into their cozy room. Gwyn was chattering excitedly as she changed into her bathing suit in the bathroom. “Az, apparently we are supposed to put on these clay masks while we soak! There’s a jar of it in here!” 

“What are the benefits of the clay masks for our skin?” Azriel slipped into black swim shorts and tossed on a heavy jacket. 

“It says…it says the clay will draw out toxins in our skin, and the other minerals will reduce redness,” Gwyn read. “The steam from the hot springs will also unclog our pores.” 

Although he was over 500 years old, Azriel had never soaked in hot springs before. Gwyn, who was an avid reader, always had ideas for things to do around Prythian. Having her push him to try new things was one of the many reasons why Azriel loved his mate so much. 

“I still can’t believe you won’t let me see what your swimsuit looks like,” Azriel complained when Gwyn stepped out of the bathroom. Gwyn wore a flowing skirt and thick coat, and he could not tell for the life of him what she might be wearing. 

“You’ll see in a couple minutes, shadowsinger. Now let’s go!” 

The pair walked in sandals along the cobblestone mountain path. Trees were dusted with snow, craggy lilac peaks rose up ahead of them. The individual hot spring pools were tucked away behind boulders, ensuring the visitors had some privacy. Small rivers of melted water ran down the hill, replenishing the pools with fresh water.

The winter chill was almost unbearable, but Azriel finally located the hot spring assigned to their room. The pool was fairly wide, with carved white steps leading up to it. Slabs of stone lined the edges of a bubbling blue pool. 

Gwyn whistled as Azriel took off his heavy jacket, revealing sculpted pectorals and bronzed abdominal muscles. The shadowsinger folded his arms over his chest petulantly. “Go on, Berdara,” he prompted her, hazel eyes shining. “Let’s see your outfit.” 

Gwyn shrugged her skirt and jacket off. The black swimsuit she’d picked was custom ordered from the Summer Court. According to Cresseida, the one-piece style was trendy once again. The black suit dipped low with a v-cut, with sweeping cutouts that displayed skin despite the modest coverage. Gwyn had to admit: the high waistline and stretchy material made her ass look nice. 

The awe in Azriel’s face as he looked her up and down only boosted Gwyn’s confidence. Water nymphs swam naked, but her upbringing in Sangravah, with long-flowing priestess robes, had her used to more modest clothes. But Gwyn wanted to feel comfortable trying new styles, so a weekend away at the Dawn Court’s hot springs seemed the perfect opportunity for a cute swimsuit. 

“Where’d you buy this?” he breathed, gently fingering the slippery fabric of Gwyn’s swimsuit. “I think we should buy ten more of these.”

“A shop in the Summer Court. It was Cresseida’s recommendation.” 

“I’m going to send Cresseida a thank you note the next time I’m in the Summer Court,” Azriel murmured as his hands snaked down to give Gwyn’s ass a friendly squeeze. “You look amazing, Gwyn.” 

Gwyn beamed. “Thank you, Azriel. I’m glad you like it.”      

Azriel kissed her lightly. “As long as you like it, I’ll be happy. Now come on, I’m getting cold out here.” He’d originally planned to help Gwyn into the hot spring pool by holding her hand, like a courtier. But the water was searing hot, causing the shadowsinger to hiss like a cat. 

“What’s wrong?” Gwyn gasped. 

“It’s hot!” 

“No shit, Az, we’re at a hot spring.” Gwyn glanced at the steaming, whirling pool before them and took a bold step into the pool. Then another. And another.

“Gwynnie, be careful!” Azriel’s wings flapped with trepidation when his mate let out a little squeak of surprise.

“I’m fine! It’s actually not that bad once you get used to it.” Gwyn let out a pleasant sigh once she was neck-deep in the pool. She paddled around the pool in circles. “Come on, Az, join me.” Gwyn held out her hand. 

With support from the priestess, Azriel managed to immerse his entire body, wings and all, into the hot spring. The water was so hot that it almost felt cold. But sure enough, once he got over the initial tingling sensation, the heat soothed to his tired muscles. 

The air steamed with the heavy smell of various minerals as the pair soaked in contented silence. Gwyn occasionally dove down, swimming through the heated water like the water nymph she was. Her coppery red hair floated loose and soft in the water. Azriel was enamored with running his fingers through it. 

“I think the steam will have opened enough of our pores. Here, I’ll go get the clay mask jar.” Gwyn got up out of the pool, walking towards their bench of belongings. Now Azriel was the one who whistled as he admired her swaying, dripping curves. 

“Oh stop it, honey.” Gwyn swatted him playfully as she opened the lid. Azriel peered down at the gray white paste. It looked strange, but at least it smelled nice. Like some floral essence oils were infused with the clay. 

Gwyn and Azriel took turns applying the mask onto each other’s faces, gently tracing the curve of a cheek and smoothing the clay over nose bridges. Gwyn took her time, appreciating the little details of her mate’s face. And Azriel drew little hearts and stars all over Gwyn’s face before properly applying the mask.

“You look good with a clay mask on, shadowsinger.” She kissed him softly on the lips. 

“Better than the raven mask I wear into battle?” Azriel teased. 

“Hmm.” Gwyn tapped her chin contemplatively. “I must say you look better in that one. All edgy and intimidating.” She giggled when Azriel pulled her into his lap.

“Edgy?” Azriel’s voice was indignant. “I am not edgy.” 

“Yes, you are, Az. Fine. You’re broody. How about that?” 

“I’ll take that description,” Azriel conceded. His hands held the Valkyrie close, tracing the edges of swimsuit that exposed her pale skin. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Gwyn said after several moments of comfortable silence. “I love this. It’s so hard to be near water during the winter, because it’s so cold. But this is amazing.” 

“It’s an early Solstice present. But there will be more to come.” 

Snow began to fall, the flakes dissolving into steam before they hit the water. But the spymaster and Valkyrie warriors did not mind. Gwyn and Azriel soaked in the hot spring pool, relishing each other’s company, their troubles far, far away. 

[vestige-of-hope]

chibi cresseida <3 she may look cute, but she can still kill you

[writtenonreceipts]

Feysand and “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” - “Well, you shouldn’t be saying it then.”

<3

Kinda sappy? Kinda cliche? Kinda...idk.  

Thanks so much for the prompt!

 #

Words, Words, Words

Escape.

Escape.

Escape is all that is pounding through her head.  Just that one word.  One simple action that one would think it would be simple enough to obey.

But Feyre is stumbling as she back peddles and tries to weave through the bar.  Why did it have to be a Friday night?  Why did she have to pick tonight to come out with her friends?

“Feyre,” his voice is almost desperate in the way he calls out.  Desperate and afraid.  And everything she doesn’t need.

She ignores him.  Feyre’s gotten pretty good at it too.  As much as she loves her best-friend, it’s been harder and harder to be around him because that love isn’t what it should be.  That love is a raging fire within her.  That love should not be reciprocated.

“Feyre.” Rhysand manages to grab her hand and swing her around to face him.

In the jostling crowd she is pushed flush against him, the heat of his body flaring around her.  His cologne, a familiar haze to her senses.  By the cauldron she has to get away from him.

“I can’t do this right now, Rhys,” Feyre says.  

Rhys’ violet eyes bare into her, scanning every inch of her face as though he can keep her there himself.  But the longer she stares at him the harder it will be to walk away.

She shakes her head and pulls back, turning to leave the bar. She's not sure why she trusted Mor. Or course the young woman would spend the weekend hanging out with her cousin.  She should have known Mor would want Feyre to talk to Rhys.  It was Feyre's mistake to trust her friend with the sensitive information of being in love with her best friend.

Feyre is outside in the stiff chill of autumn and is desperately looking for a cab. But it isn't the right time of night. The street is just a touch too busy and Feyre is out of luck.

She pushes a hand through her hair and begins walking. A cab will show up eventually, won't it? Besides, it's only a few blocks to her apartment.

"Feyre!" Rhys calls again. She can hear him running to catch her. She doesn't slow down. When he finally does reach her, he makes it a few steps in front of her and stops, forcing her to run into him. 

Feyre snarls, bracing her hands on his far too sculpted biceps. Damn him.

"Rhys," Feyre says when his hands grip her waist. She can feel her heart thundering in her chest. Feel her breath catch in her throat. Feyre refuses to look at him. Even when she can feel his eyes baring down on her.

"Please just let me explain," he says.  The desperation to his voice returns and in the overhead street lamps she can see the tension lines in his face.  This is so different from the calm and collected Rhys that she knows.  So different from his usual confidence.  It almost makes her want to laugh.  To tell him that he’s being over dramatic as always.

“Rhys,” she begins.  He lets her pull away and she wraps her arms around herself, holding her coat closed against the wind. “There’s nothing to explain.  I decided I’m not feeling good and want to go home.”

The lie is blatant and obvious that it causes her to cringe and look away.  A couple walks past, too engrossed in each other to even notice Feyre and Rhys.

“You weren’t supposed to hear what I said,” Rhys explains.  He runs a hand through his hair mussing it up from its usual neat style.  “Cassian and Azriel were being asses and wouldn’t shut up about and I just--”

He’s floundering for words now, his mouth agape and eyes wild.  He doesn’t even know what he’s saying.

Feyre shakes her head and exhales slowly, trying to remain calm. “If I wasn’t supposed to hear it then maybe you shouldn’t have been saying it.  I mean, dammit, Rhys you’re my best friend.  It’s just--I mean.”

Now it’s her turn to struggle for words.  Heat rises on her cheeks and Feyre looks down at her feet.  She’s probably said too much as it is.  But the conversation that she overheard is all she can hear and it’s hard not to say too much.

How can you be in love with me?

The words are on the tip of her tongue.  They could slip so easily from her lips and stain the night with uncertainty.  But she stays silent.  Nothing good has ever come from bar gossip and if she knows Rhys, he’s already got at least three beers in him.  Maybe more.  Definitely on the road to getting tipsy if not drunk.

“Can I just explain?” He steps toward her, slowly, as though she’ll run away if he moves too quick.  And she’s ready to bolt.  Ready to flag down the next car that passes and bum off a ride.

All she feels is mortification.  Why did she have to overhear that conversation?  Overhear Rhys’ exact words.  And then she ran out of there the way she did.

Feyre stuffs her hands into the pockets of her coat.  Her keys dig painfully into her palm, but she welcomes the distraction.

“You know I’m an idiot Feyre,” Rhys says.  He tries to smile, but she doesn’t return the gesture.  

Feyre rolls her eyes and brushes past him, determined to walk home and get away from him.  Because of course tonight she came to realize the extent of her feelings.  Of course tonight she was feeling a bit more willing to act on them.  Of course tonight had to be the night where Rhys went and ruined it all.  He is actually very good at doing that--saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing.  She used to find it endearing, humorous even.

Rhysand is quick to keep pace with her.  His long legs eat up the distance with ease, his jacket flying open around him.

“Feyre.” He’s pleading as they walk.  She knows he’s watching her so Feyre tries to keep her expression blank.  But Rhysand has always been able to get under her skin. 

She stops abruptly causing Rhysand to swing around and almost collide with her.

Standing flush together, Feyre has to tilt her head to avoid squishing her nose against his chest.  Which wouldn’t have been quite a terrible problem if he weren’t wearing that cologne she likes.  Swallowing roughly, Feyre meets his dark gaze.

“If I wasn’t supposed to hear what you said, then we shouldn’t be talking about it,” she says stiffly.  And she really doesn’t want to talk about it.  Because how did you tell your best friend you were in love with him?  It didn’t matter that she’d heard him admit to the same thing just minutes earlier.  He’s already denying what he’d said so why not help him along by keeping her mouth shut?

Rhysand’s hands come up to her forearms, holding her in place.  He leans forward enough that Feyre’s heart skips a beat and she knows they’re in a far too compromising position.  One that would be so easy to sink into and cross all the boundaries of friends.

She steels herself and lifts her gaze.

In the streetlights overhead Rhysands eyes become pools of black.  Deep and endless it is so easy to get lost in them.  There’s a furrow in his brow as though he’s trying to solve some equation or think of a solution to an impossible scenario.

“Feyre.”

He’s always used her name so casually.  Tossing it around as though he’d never tire of it.  Using it almost as a punctuation mark when they’re having the most mundane of conversations.

This time is an exception.  This time her name is a prayer lilting off his lips.  

Slowly he brings a hand up to her cheek.  He brushes his thumb along her jaw and a shiver races over Feyre’s skin.  She can’t help it, can’t control it.  There’s always been something about Rhys that causes her to lose control and slip up just a little.

So now, when she has this little bit of courage, she keeps his steady gaze.

“You said you loved me.”

Somewhere in the din of the bar as she was weaving around patrons, Rhys had been sitting with Cassian and Azriel.  He hadn’t noticed her approach otherwise she was certain the discussion wouldn’t have been anywhere near where it was.  But Cassian and Azriel were pestering Rhysand about something laughing and giving him knowing looks.

And somehow amid the rest of the noise of clinking glasses, conversation, and music she’d heard Rhys’ words clearer than anything else in that bar.

I’m in love with my best friend, what else do you want from me? 

Feyre isn’t interested in the exact nature of the conversation.  The boys have always kept up strange discussions and debates.  She isn’t interested in Cassian and Azriel’s reactions to what happened either.  She's more concerned with the utter panic that consumed her and forced her to run in the opposite direction.

“Yeah,” he replies, “yeah, I did.”

Because, really, how can Rhysand be in love with her?  It’s some sort of sick cosmic joke for this sort of mix-up to happen right when she’s starting to realize her own feelings for him.  And hell, who is she to say that Rhys was even talking about her?  He can have other best friends.  Amren, for instance.  Cresseida.  Vassa.  She’s grasping now, desperate to fil her mind with anything than to respond to Rhys.

Maybe a hole will open up beneath them and swallow her up.

“And I meant it,” Rhys continues.  

“You’re drunk,” Feyre says and rolls her eyes.

He shrugs. “Only a little.  But it doesn’t make what I said any less true.”

Feyre squeezes her eyes shut, unable to tell if he’s being serious or not. “Including the bit about being an idiot?”

She opens her eyes in time to see a smirk flash over his mouth.  His hand brushes softly against her cheek and Feyre knows she could so easily get lost in his touches, so easily get lost in him.  Despite his arrogance and nonchalance of everything--she knows Rhys for who he really is.

“I’ll let you go if you really want, but I just needed you to know, I meant what I said.” He drops his hand to his side, fingers flexing.  

Unconsciously, Feyre tilts forward, missing the contact.  In his eyes she can read every emotion.  Everything on his mind is laid bare for her to see and Feyre knows just how deep his words run.

“Rhys,” Feyre whispers as she snatches a hand out to grasp the front of his jacket before he can pull away. Oh hell, oh hell, she has no idea what she’s doing.  And before she can stop herself or convince herself it’s a terrible idea, Feyre surges up on her toes and kisses him.

Feyre never would have guessed that she would be able to catch Rhys off guard, considering how collected and confident he always appeared to be.  But the second her lips meet his, Feyre knows she’s surprised him.  And that’s fine by her.  She put all her feeling into the kiss, despite leaving it at barely more than a brush.  She still wants to give him the opportunity to pull back and take back what he said.

Rhys however doesn’t have any qualms about being surprised.  When Feyre pulls away, his hands are already at her neck, her waist keeping her close.  His mouth is urgent against hers as though he can’t quite get enough of her.  Feyre gasps, the feeling of his mouth, his hands and the taste of his tongue on hers--everything has her begging to be closer to Rhys.

When they part, foreheads pressed together and hands desperately searching each other’s bodies, Feyre finally catches her breath.  

“You didn’t throw a shoe at me this time,” Rhysand says grinning down at her.

“The night’s still young, we’ll see what happens,” she replies.

Rhys laughs, kissing her again.

#

tags, I think I got the acotar tags right? maybe...and if you didn’t specify which fandom, I put you on my fixed list, please feel free to correct me if you’d just prefer TOG.

tottenhamboys20  @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @bamchickawowow @ladywitchling @ireallyshouldsleeprn @courtofjurdan @sassys-world @sleeping-and-books @superspiritfestival @chieflemming @julemmaes @harrymoncheri @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @my-fan-side @sjmships @emikadreams

[nesta-stan]

Acosf Theory: Nesta being kidnapped by the Mortal Queens will be a major plot point.

We all already know that the queens are going to play a major role from the synopsis. I think that specifically it will be the youngest Queen who will act as Nesta's main antagonist. She is the perfect character to act as a foil for Nesta.

Lets start with the younger queen herself.

"And the youngest two queens … One was perhaps a few years older than me, black-haired and black-eyed, careful cunning oozing from every pore as she surveyed us.

"The youngest queen, the dark-haired one, smiled slightly. Arrogant youth"

Here we see a few similarities between Nesta and that Queen. She is arrogant, "Cunning", proud, and about the same age as Nesta. They were both made into things they didn't want to be. To the Queen, Nesta has everything she wanted; she got the youth the power, and the money.

“The youngest one—that pinched-faced bitch—went into the Cauldron first. Practically trampled the others to get in after it saw what it did to you and your sister.”

Stone screamed beneath twin sets of talons. “But the Cauldron … Oh, it knew that something had been taken from it. Not sentient, but … it knew. It was furious. And when that young queen went in …”

The Ravens laughed. Laughed as the slope leveled out and we found ourselves at the bottom of the library.

“Oh, it gave her immortality. It made her Fae. But since something had been taken from it … the Cauldron took what she valued most. Her youth.” They sniggered again. “A young woman went in … but a withered crone came out.”

And from the catacombs of my memory, Elain’s voice sounded: I saw young hands

wither with age.

“The other queens won’t go into the Cauldron for terror of the same happening now. And the youngest one … Oh, you should hear how she talks, Nesta Archeron. The things she wants to do to you when Hybern is done …”

The Queen is angry at Nesta and Nesta is angry at the Queens. I'm going to be honest, when it comes to SJM's main villains like the king of hybern they seem to be one dimensional but this Queen's circumstances can be what forces Nesta to look further at her own. This Queen is what Nesta might have been. She might even be a deciding factor on who Nesta chooses to become.

Why this would make Nesta going to the Illyrian mountains make more sense

"She wasn’t stupid—she knew there had been unrest, both in Prythian and on the continent, since the war had ended. Knew some Fae territories were pushing their new limits on what they could get away with in terms of territory claims and how they treated humans."

These are Nesta's thoughts before going to see her sister in the sneak peak. I, and a lot of others, have never been able to wrap our heads around how the Illyrian mountains could ever be a good place for Nesta. Yes, a lot of people use the excuse "it's for her healing" but there is never any reasoning behind why illyria?

The mortal Queens know about Velaris. If Feyre and the inner circle have caught on to a plan to kidnap Nesta, than it makes sense that they would try to hide her away somewhere safe. Especially since she is basically helpless on her own. Cassian is the only character, besides Feyre, that cares about Nesta's well being and Illyria is filled with soldiers ready to fight at a moment's notice, while Velaris isn't. It is also where she can train. This threat has probably made Feyre realize how defenseless her sister is and to give her a fighting chance, she forces Nesta to train.

Now, let's talk about the "Ally" the synopsis mentioned. I think it's the Illyrians. That's how she still ends up captured. They betray Cassian and offer his mate to the mortal Queens. Though we all refer to this as Nesta's book, it's Cassian’s too. The Illyrians are closest to his heart. So it makes sense that they are included in his Arc. He has long been bad mouthed and treated as lowly for his status but he never stopped loving his people. Instead he internalized it, but what happens when the woman of his affections suffers because of that hatred? It would be the perfect tool to force Cassian to self-reflect on who he is and what he stands for. Can he choose between his people and his love?

This ties in with the snow queen theory

I actually first thought of this when reevaluating the theory that the story that will work as an inspiration for this book is the Snow Queen by Hans Christian Anderson. There are three versions of that story that all could potentially tie into to Acofas. The original, Frozen, and the 2002 movie remake.

Frozen because it is the tale of two sisters coming together after years of estrangement. (Feyre and Nesta obviously). 

I put the 2002 version in their because in that version of the story has "Lady's" portraying and ruling over each season. Their is a spring witch, summer princess (cresseida) , Autumn thief, and then the snow queen(Vivian?). Meaning more characters might play more roles in this story. I did see alot of wanting Nesta to travel to the other courts.

Now for the original, which probably looks like it has the most connection to Acosf. The story is short and easy to find online. In short, it's about a girl Named Gerda who goes on a quest to find Kay, her childhood friend. A magic mirror created by the devil , that I'm not going into detail much but it's basically the Ouroboros, is shattered and falls into the eyes and heart of young Kay. (Snow Queen also speculated to have a shard in her heart) This makes him cruel to his sister like friend over the next year till he is kidnapped by the snow queen.

This story ties in for multiple reasons. I think hear the mirror is replaced by the Cauldron. Both the Mortal Queen and Nesta were made and neither or happy about it. This being the "glass shard that froze their hearts." And the Mortal Queen being the Snow Queen who kidnapped Kay, or Nesta. Also, Kay is cruel to Gerda for a year before he is taken and it's been a year since the war.

Now let's look at this Quote.

“Little Kay was quite blue, yes nearly black with cold; but he did not observe it, for she had kissed away all feeling of cold from his body, and his heart was a lump of ice. He was dragging along some pointed flat pieces of ice, which he laid together in all possible ways, for he wanted to make something with them; just as we have little flat pieces of wood to make geometrical figures with, called the Chinese Puzzle. Kay made all sorts of figures, the most complicated, for it was an ice-puzzle for the understanding. In his eyes the figures were extraordinarily beautiful, and of the utmost importance; for the bit of glass which was in his eye caused this. He found whole figures which represented a written word; but he never could manage to represent just the word he wanted—that word was “eternity”; and the Snow Queen had said, “If you can discover that figure, you shall be your own master, and I will make you a present of the whole world and a pair of new skates.” But he could not find it out.”

I always interpreted that if this was going to inspire something in Acotar it would be Metaphorical. That the injuries Kay suffers would be how Nesta let herself fall apart and the puzzle that he needed to spell eternity for could be how Nesta still doesn't know what to do with her immortal life.

But what if it's literally? What if the Queen captures Nesta and tries to use her powers to fix her. The Queen was also granted immortality. What if Kay figuring out how to spell eternity is Nesta figuring out how to fix the young Queen. And the injuries are of being black and blue are from the queens torchering her?

Sjm's habits.

Sjm always has a habit of making her characters go through even deeper shit, once they finally healed. It would make sense that she would throw us another curve ball like this. She did something similar with Aelin in Koa, and she has reused some points before. Like Aedion and Lysandra taking Nessian's "till the next life".

Also, alot of people don't like Nesta and having even worse charecters be introduced to make the others look better is so in Sjm style. Just in the way that Tamlin and Eris make Rhysand look like a Saint, having the mortal Queen be the "bad" version of Nesta would help people see her in a better light.

I tried to look at this in the way of, What will make these Charecters question themselves and their motives the most. This was my conclusion.

This is just what I came up with, if you have any differing thoughts or ideas I would love to hear them. 

@heylittlemissy @sjm-things 

[desolationfires]

A Court of Thorns and Roses

𓇼 Cresseida 𓇼

[battlestar-royco]

acotar fans are like i can draw tarquin once every 20 years but i draw the line at giving him anything other than stick straight hair

SJ/M artists have no chill when it comes to characters of color. Part of it is SJ/M’s mess for retconning characters like L/ucien and being unclear about certain characters’ ethnicities. Like... the Southern Continent? What region exactly are the main SC characters supposed to be from? Stans can’t seem to decide if A/mren is EAsian or white, if H/elion is MENA or SAfrican, if the I/llyrians are Latine/ME/white guys with tans etc.

Not only are the characters of color whitewashed, but there’s also a major deficit of content for them. If S0rscha art exists, she’s one character in a lineup or a tiny bust on a page of busts, and in edits she’s white. I’ve even seen one artist refuse to paint S0rscha despite having painted every other character in the series. Ouch. Also maybe it’s just me but I feel like Cresseida art and edits are non-existent. T/arquin of course has the whitest of white straight hair and blue eyes. I don’t understand SJ/M’s aversion to black/4C hair, but her stans have that aversion too. There’s one artist I’ve seen who consistently racebent characters and gave them more diverse features, but I haven’t seen their work in a minute so I don’t know if they still make AC0TAR art. The top 5-10 artists have distinct styles but you can tell they’re all focused on the main white characters with the same body types/facial features so they end up looking the same.

[merinnan]

A Court of Azeroth and Prythian - Chapter Three

Chapter One   *   Chapter Two   *   AO3

“Mates,” the woman - Feyre - sighed as his double bolted through the door to whomever this 'she' was. This Amren, he guessed, from what he'd heard so far. Both Tarquin and the other man - Rhys - laughed.

"Like you're one to talk, Feyre darling," Rhys said. She rolled her eyes at him in a far more human gesture than Varian expected to see from an elf.

"Males, then." She stepped back to study Varian, Rhys coming up beside her and slipping an arm around her waist. Varian studied the pair of fae elves in return, trying to identify why they looked so familiar. They certainly reminded him of someone, but unlike Tarquin and his cousins, he couldn't quite place whom. It didn't help that the pair of them both emanated power in a way he hadn't experienced since the last time he'd been in the same place as Alexstrasza, years ago.

By the Light, I hope that doesn't mean that these two have similar power to Aspects. How could that even be possible? No-one else on Azeroth has that kind of power.

Despite himself, he shivered slightly, and Feyre's storm-grey eyes narrowed as she turned on Tarquin.

"Cauldron, Tarquin, he's soaked!" Her tone was accusing, and Tarquin held his hands up in a placating gesture.

"We only just got back, Feyre, I wasn't expecting you to arrive so quickly." He glanced around the three of them, then gestured to Varian. "This is King Varian Wrynn, of Stormwind." Varian noted the way Rhys' eyebrow quirked up in surprise before Tarquin continued. "Varian, this is High Lord Rhysand of the Night Court, and his mate, High Lady Feyre Archeron. Now, let's get inside and settled before business."

Varian barely heard him, focused on how he'd introduced Feyre and the violet-eyed Rhysand. Mate. Not wife, but mate. His jaw clenched a little at the very orcish term. Rhysand gave him a lazy smile in return, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. Tarquin paused at the balcony door; Varian hadn't even noticed him moving.

"Shall we?" Tarquin asked pointedly. Varian and Rhysand broke off their staring match, turning and following Tarquin and Feyre. It wasn't lost on Varian that Rhysand placed himself at the rear, where he could keep an eye on him.

"I imagine you'd prefer to get dried off first," Tarquin said over his shoulder as he led the small group down the stairs. "Cresseida..."

The white-haired princess was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs, and smoothly took over from her cousin in the gap he left for her. "Follow me," she said to Varian, and walked off down the corridor without waiting to see if he followed or not. He debated not for a moment, debated staying and demanding answers from these fae elves, or finding his own way out of here and back to Stormwind, or any lands that he knew. Then he considered how badly he'd stick out in this open, sunny city - both as the only human he'd been able to spot, as well as being dressed so differently to everyone else he'd seen thus far. Not to mention that, until Feyre and Rhysand had shown up, he hadn't spotted anyone with anything approaching a similar skin tone to his. No, trying to get out would mean fighting his way out, and he wasn't stupid enough to think that that was truly a viable option given that he'd been unconscious and drowning not even ten minutes ago. Still, he'd try it if he had to, but...he didn't think that he would have to. Tarquin, at least, appeared to be just as curious about how he'd got here as he was, and if the business he wanted to discuss with Varian and the High Lord and Lady of Night was about that, as he suspected, then perhaps it was worth staying and seeing if any of them had any answers. Making up his mind, he strode after Cresseida.

She didn't say a word to him as they walked through a half dozen corridors, until she stopped before a door and pushed it open. "These are your rooms while you're here," she said. "There's dry clothes that should fit you. I'll come back in half an hour to take you to the High Lord and his guests." With that, she turned on her heel and walked off. Varian waited until she was out of sight, then stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

The room was bright and airy, and far more human-like than Varian had expected. Being a castle of stone in the midst of a city of brick and mortar, he hadn’t expected anything like a kal’dorei room, but even kal’dorei had some similar decorating styles to quel’dorei and sin’dorei. He was so used to all the elven races having similarities between them when it came to their rooms and cities that it was jarring to find himself in an elven castle that didn’t share those traits. The room was decorated richly, but simply, with chairs around a small table, a large canopied bed, and a dresser. Through another door he spotted what seemed to be a bathing room.

Unless these are guest rooms kept specifically for humans, and kept human-like to make them more comfortable. That was a distinct possibility, perhaps. Although, as he’d noted earlier, he hadn’t spotted anyone he recognised as a human on the streets below.  He strode to the window and looked out over the city again. Adriata. Summer Court. Prythian. He’d never heard of any of these places. Was it possible that yet another continent had lain hidden from the rest of the world, much like Pandaria had? He left the window and went to the bathing room. As promised, dry clothes had been left folded near the sunken bath-tub, already filled with steaming water. He eyed it warily, before closing the door and unbuckling Shalamayne, not trusting the sword out of his sight in this strange place.

Half an hour later, Varian was finishing buttoning up the strangely styled shirt that had been left for him when someone knocked on the door. He barely had enough time to call out an invitation to enter before the door opened and Cresseida swept in. She glanced at him up and down, dressed in familiar yet strange clothes that fit him so well that he suspected they belonged to his fae elf doppelganger, and merely raised an eyebrow at Shalamayne strapped to his back once again.

“Ready?” she asked. He nodded at her, tucking the locket with his son’s picture in it away under the shirt, and followed her out of the room and along more corridors until she stopped and entered another room, the barest knock to announce their presence.

“…and Cassian isn’t allowed to visit here,” Rhysand was saying as Varian followed Cresseida into the room. A sitting room, he noted at once, arranged with couches, chairs, and some small tables. Rhysand sat on one couch with Feyre, an arm around her shoulders, and relating whatever story he’d been telling to another impossibly handsome elf with dark skin – although not quite as dark as Tarquin and his cousins – and onyx black hair, who sat in a chair opposite. Tarquin was in a chair between them, and lurking behind Rhysand and Feyre was another dark-haired man, who had – Varian sucked his breath in.

Demon hunter, was his first thought upon seeing those wings. He realised his mistake a moment later, when he noted the man had rounded ears like a human, not long and pointed like an elf. No human had ever become a demon hunter to Varian’s knowledge, only kal’dorei and sin’dorei. There was a flash of two glowing blue stones set into the backs of the man’s gauntlets as he crossed his arms, studying Varian with an unreadable expression, and shadows swirling and clinging to him. For a moment, Varian half wondered if the winged man were a shadow priest, what with the way the shadows surrounded him seemed to be living creatures themselves. Again, he dismissed that thought the moment it crossed his mind – like the fae elf Varian, this man was unmistakable as anything but a warrior.

His attention was drawn back to the others in the room by a bellowing laugh from the black haired elf in response to Rhysand’s words, and by Cresseida slipping away from him to take a seat between that one and Tarquin.

“There’s a reason he isn’t,” Tarquin said sharply. “I don’t care to have to rebuild every time…”

“It was one time,” Rhysand protested.

“Only because he was banned from coming back a second time,” the winged man muttered, eliciting another howl of laughter.

Tarquin waved Varian towards one of the empty chairs. “Varian, please join us. We’ve been waiting for you.” At his words, the black haired elf ceased his laughter, and studied him intently.

“So this is him?” he said.

“Yes,” Tarquin said. “Varian Wrynn of Stormwind.” As Varian prowled over and paused next to a chair, Tarquin indicated the black haired one. “Varian, this is Helion Spellcleaver, High Lord of the Day Court.” Varian gave the man a nod, which Helion returned. “And Azriel of the Night Court,” Tarquin continued, indicating the winged man. Varian gave him a stiffer nod, which was returned just as stiffly, then looked back at Tarquin.

“I see your other cousin is not yet here,” he said. For some reason, Helion found this immensely amusing, Rhysand merely smirked, Feyre elbowed her mate and rolled her eyes, Cresseida sighed, and Azriel remained expressionless. Tarquin just grinned.

“I don’t expect him to anytime soon,” he said. “He’s…preoccupied right now. But please, sit. We’re all very interested to hear what brought you here.”

“No more than I am to learn that myself,” Varian replied, then cautiously sat down. “Because I have to admit that I have no idea where here is, or how I got here.”

[booksapphic]

@cresseida replied to your post: @cresseida replied to your post: also i know i...

the wrath and the dawn single handedly saved my life?? shazi and khalid?? put every single white het cis relationship in their overdue graves?? go read it again!! now!! please!! its so good tho the rose and the dagger wasn’t as good only bc it was more revolution and magic based but twatd is so good i cant believe it murdered all white het ships and white het writers PHEW also like… jalal is mine and i will fight for him but i love you so… don’t make me fight u

i actually remember really liking shazi and khalid (mainly shazi) but I think my big issue with it was it felt very slow?? and idk i think when i was reading it i was too impatient for that but now since high fantasy and that style of writing is getting more popular, i might be able to stand it better?? but yeah don’t worry i bought the ebook of it when it was on sale so i’m planning on reading it soon. and i wouldn’t worry about me stealing jalal; he’s a boy ;))

[ae-neon]

this one's probably kinda difficult, but for the character ask: Cresseida

favorite thing about them

Her title is pretty unique.

least favorite thing about them

Her being portrayed as remotely interested in Rhysand

favorite line

Lmao idk

brOTP

I like to imagine her and Varian as mean siblings who chat shit about everyone

OTP

Cresseida being Tarquin's cousin instead of his mate might count as a hate crime

Eris x Cresseida political marriage is still something I need to dive into

nOTP

I just know she's the one who banned Cassian from the Summer Court and she was absolutely correct to do so, the IC don't deserve the air she breathes.

random headcanon

She teaches Nesta how to Samba

unpopular opinion

She is what Mor failed to be (politically)

They're both cousins to the HL but in charge of the capital city but there's no doubt Cresseida can and does actually do so

song i associate with them

Afro-latin jazz styles remind me of my tropical summer court headcanon but nothing specific to a character

favorite picture of them

[ae-neon]

I’m curious about Nesta x Cresseida…Like what’s the thing that pulled you to them 😭

Hello anon

I was writing my Nesta in the Summer Court headcanon (check pinned) and couldn't quite decide between Nesquin and Nesseida. The headcanon was mostly about Nesta healing and becoming more in touch with being Fae (the seasonal courts are more wild and faerie to me) but in particular I didn't want her involved in the overall politics, I wanted her to rest for years

One of the other things I really wanted was Nesta dancing less rigid styles than I imagine she might have learnt growing up. And I ended up imagining Cresseida being the one to teach her and Nesta would 100% fall in love just from being that close and comfortable and intimate with someone

Cresseida is also a smart, proud woman with a lot of responsibility so I feel like that similarity between them would actually play out less volatile because they understand that about each other

Them knowing that about each other would also make them uniquely suited to help each other and know when the other needs to take a break. Can imagine Nesta quietly reading next to Cresseida on the couch because the Princess is stressed and when it was Nesta she just wanted someone close by even if they weren't talking, just to be there you know?

Stuff like that.

Also them braiding each other's hair, so cute